#wire wheel adapters

[denishsmith]

Your Home For Everything Related to Wire Wheel- British Wire Wheel

[britishwheel]

Wire wheel adapters, often overlooked yet immensely significant in the world of automotive customization, serve as crucial connectors between your vehicle's hub and the wheels of your dreams. In this blog, we'll delve into the versatility and importance of wire wheel adapters, offering a comprehensive understanding of their role in the world of custom wheels.

Wire wheel adapters, also known as hub adapters or wheel spacers, are essential components that enable you to adapt the fitment of your vehicle's wheels. They provide a practical solution for those seeking to install custom wire wheels, or even wheels with different bolt patterns, on their vehicles without the need for costly modifications.

One of the primary advantages of wire wheel adapters is their adaptability. They come in various sizes, thicknesses, and configurations, allowing you to achieve a perfect fit for your specific wheel application. This adaptability empowers you to express your individual style, whether you're leaning towards classic elegance or contemporary aesthetics.

Moreover, wire wheel adapters offer more than just aesthetics. By ensuring proper wheel fitment, they can enhance vehicle stability and handling, contributing to an improved driving experience.

Join us as we explore the multifaceted world of wire wheel adapters in this blog, uncovering their transformative potential in customising your vehicle and improving your driving dynamics.

[sufrimientilia]

whumpy jail thoughts…

obvious cw

Whumpee in jail for a long stint and playing it cool, everything breezy. like this is exactly where they belong

Whumpee framed for a crime or unjustly imprisoned. Caretaker fighting relentlessly to get them out

Forced confessions that are obviously forced. bruises and hollow features, glazed eyes and mechanical words

Whumpee and Caretaker sitting together in a cubicle, separated by glass, voices cracked and hollow between old hand phones

Whumpee fiddling with the metal cord, nervous or embarrassed or traumatized, so shell-shocked by their situation

Whumpee taken off protective custody when they should definitely be on it

“Are you sure everything is okay?” everything is very obviously not okay

new bruises or injuries every time Caretaker visits

After legal efforts Caretaker finally gets visitation. Whumpee getting wheeled in, so beaten by guards and inmates alike they can’t even stand

Whumpee so mercilessly fucked up they can’t even track the conversation, and the guards hold Whumpee’s head up and act like everything is normal as Caretaker cries and pleads behind the glass

Caretaker advocating in vain to do something about Whumpee’s condition. the guards never care

“Prisoner is in infirmary. No visitation.”

“Prisoner denies visitation.” Caretaker never knows if it’s what Whumpee wants or just what the guards say

Caretaker increasingly desperate to see Whumpee. Coming to visit day after day or yelling at the visitation clerk and finally getting kicked out

Whumpee looking so small and frail, hunched over and handcuffed to a silver metal table

Whumpee nothing like their former self, washed out in bright orange or dull beige colors

Whumpee still so intimidating and dangerous shacked from wrists to ankles. Always flanked by guards with rifles, tension so heavy with the very real paranoia he’ll just snap

bruises and abrasions and flakes of red caked around wrists, purple and jagged and ugly

Whumpee in solitude. Alone day after day, stuck with their own thoughts and forced to sit in silence, talk to the walls, stare at nothing but grey and grey and grey. Hearing voices and arguing with themself and spiraling with every thought they didn’t want to confront

Whumpee pacing back and forth until every inch of the cell is memorized and written into their core

Whumpee stuck with a cellmate so vicious, so abrasive, so overwhelming. Not a single moment to himself without violence or discomfort

Guards who are dirty, crooked, corrupt. turning the cameras every time batons are raised or ignoring the violent rackets in the yard and the screams between prison bars late at night

Inmates who run the place, beating Whumpee to make a point, establishing their place as top dog through force and blood and fear

Prison fights, so dirty and rabid. rusty shivs, getting outnumbered, guards who either take too long or tase and beat everyone into submission

Whumpees who can barely eat, barely sleep. Never given the option or just so damn wired up and on edge all the time with damn good reason

Whumpee is always looking forwards to visitation day. anything is a threat to take it away

Forced to be a snitch. threatened by fellow inmates, threatened by the guards, absolutely no one Whumpee can trust

Conversations with Caretaker are heavily monitored. words always loaded and coded, unable to touch and barely able to talk

Visiting Whumpee in the infirmary. Wrists cuffed to the bed, not enough pain relief, obviously neglected

Whumpee shackled to the bed and no one bothering to feed them, food sitting just out of reach

Caretaker promising to get them out of here. Whumpee knows they can't do anything

Whumpee is forced to adapt, be a part of the system. prison only makes them worse and they become even more violent than before

prison riots that put the place on lockdown. Caretaker denied visitation, not being told if Whumpee was involved or is okay

Whumpee getting addicted to whatever drugs get smuggled in. getting forced into doing them or just desperate for an escape or actual pain relief

Caretaker only being able to witness Whumpee's decline in brief increments days or weeks apart. like snapshot after snapshot of worsening abuse they can do nothing about

Whumpees finally getting out and given the same folded clothes they wore when they first got to this place. none of it fits right anymore

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

[greentrapped]

Imagine if you will: A land of ruins - a fallen civilization rests upon these plains and hills. The ruins themselves are of stone and metal, char and rubble, grass and dirt. Hints of gold among the cracked arches, animals wandering through the cities long fallen, trees and flowers flourishing inside and around the collapsed walls...

But this land is not forgotten. Wander long enough and you'll likely meet someone - robed, masked, short and stout folk exploring, dismantling and salvaging whatever they consider useful - always in a group, save for the rare outlier that seems to do something entirely different - hunting.

When I say masked, I don't mean a white, porcelain mask you'd see on actors in a tragic opera, I mean something that looks like a mix between a gas mask and an astronaut helmet. A rounded visor and an air filter, with attached tubes connecting to a machine on the wearer's back - wires, lights, indicators and an air tank. Yet just when you think it might be some kind of life support - you see one of them grab the other's mask and rip it off, cackling with delight whilst the prank victim complains and puts it back on. Turns out they're not vital, but are merely making the people more comfortable up here - a sign of long days of work.

Who are these people? Well... They're Dwarves.

Explore a bit more and you'll find several checkpoints guarding heavily armored doors - entrances to their civilization. Go through and an expansive network of underground tunnels will appear before you - sturdy and industrial. Some trucks move along the roads, hauling salvage down below, others, completely empty, are followed by vans with crews wearing the same uniforms as the folk above - more people heading out to begin their shift. They put on their masks after the inspectors make sure everything is in order (a process that takes around 20 seconds on average, if we don't take into account some casual banter between them).

Meanwhile, some checkpoints serve a different purpose - they're not for the working crews, but instead the outsiders - depending on where in the region you are, you'll see either a transport or two, or heavy traffic through wide, arch-like gates leading to the surface - All of them inspected right before the tunnel roofs conceal the skies above (or the other way around, if they're leaving). These range from simple civilian transports to large, industrial lorries hauling all sorts of goods across the border.

Let's go deeper, then! As the roads go deeper, some of them split, whilst others merge. The smaller off-shoots lead to all manner of areas, though they aren't anything novel or impressive typically. Fuel stations, Garages, guard stations - the like. The bigger roads naturally lead to bigger locations - and more important by association. Moving up on the hierarchy from 'Jim's Wheels' workshops and 'Roadside Upside' stores we find villages and farms where hardy crops and adapted livestock is grown for produce, towns and mines where precious metals and fuels are extracted and later shipped to cities and industrial areas where the raw product is turned and refined into products with quality sought after across and outside the entire continent - for it is of Dwarven origin.

When you want absolute assurance in the quality of materials - you turn to Dwarves. When you want the most reliable equipment - you turn to Dwarves. When you want manpower for construction of critical projects - you turn to Dwarves.

When you want hard work done right, you turn to Dwarves.

You turn to Talamrab.

Talamrab, With it's expansive underground megalopolises and workregions, is a nation of hard-working, skilled folk who make up for their height and with expertise tenfold. You come here to find people who were driven underground long ago by their masters, elves. Their class was deemed unworthy of the surface, for the sun was for the beautiful, elegant nobles and their foreign guests. Over time they adapted to full lives in the depths - tolerance to cold, physiques forged by cave threats and hard work.

At one point they had enough.

Their numbers were bigger, as was their strength and discontent. In a manner of weeks the uprising proved successful as noble, now disgraced Elves were exiled from their former kingdom while the poor, now empowered Dwarves claimed the kingdom they once built for their oppressors. They didn't wish to move back up onto the surface though, spare for a few. Instead, they grew accustomed to the underground - finding it much more comfortable and promising.

Centuries later, those promises held up.

[formulaphoe]

the thrill of the dirt track

rally racing for beginners

image source: youtube

rally racing isn't just a sport; it's an experience that blends precise driving with a touch of madness, all wrapped up in the stunning backdrop of nature. if you've ever watched a rally on the telly and felt your heart race as those cars zoom through forests, mud, and gravel, you know what i'm on about. let's dive into the world of rallying, from its gritty origins to its rising popularity, especially across the pond in the us.

what is rallying?

image source: wired

at its core, rally racing is a motorsport where drivers navigate through a series of timed stages on public or private roads. unlike traditional circuit racing, where cars lap a defined track, rally cars race against the clock over various terrains—dirt roads, snowy trails, and occasionally tarmac. the beauty of rallying lies in its variety; no two rallies are the same, and each one presents its own set of challenges.

in rally, teams consist of a driver and a co-driver. despite the inferior title, the co-driver plays a crucial role, relaying notes about the course ahead, which can range from smooth bends to hairpin turns and other treacherous obstacles. communication is key, and that's what sets rallying apart from many other motorsports.

a brief history

image source: hotcars

rallying as we know it took off in the early 20th century. the very first rally is often credited to the monte carlo rally, which began in 1911. it was a glamorous affair that attracted car manufacturers and drivers alike, setting the stage for future events. as the sport evolved, rallying gained recognition not just as a test of speed, but also as a grueling endurance challenge.

over the decades, rallying has produced some iconic moments, like the legendary group b era in the 1980s, known for its powerful cars and heart-stopping speed. unfortunately, this era also saw increased safety concerns, leading to stricter regulations. nonetheless, the excitement of rallying only grew, resulting in the establishment of the world rally championship (wrc) in 1973, which remains the pinnacle of the sport today.

rallying in the modern era

image source: forbes

fast forward to today, and rallying is experiencing a resurgence, particularly in the united states. the sport is making significant inroads in the us, with grassroots event gaining popularity. this shift is partly due to a growing interest in alternative motorsports that offer thrilling experiences without the rigid structure of circuit racing.

moreover, organisations like nasa rally sport are making it easier for newcomers to join the fun. they provide resources that cater to various skill levels, ensuring that anyone with a love for speed and adventure can get behind the wheel.

the thrills and skills of rallying

image source: grassroots motorsports

what makes rally racing so thrilling? the unpredictable nature of the courses means that drivers must possess not only speed, but exceptional car control and adaptability. navigating through a forest at a high speed, with gravel flying by and trees zooming past, requires nerves of steel.

additionally, rally cars are specially designed machines, built to withstand the rigors of the terrain. from reinforced chassis to powerful engines, these vehicles are marvels of engineering. drivers also need to have a good understanding of their car's capabilities, knowing when to push the limits and when to hold back.

community and culture

image source: reddit

one of the most appealing aspects of rally racing is its community. it's not just about the drivers and cars; it's about the fans, the crews, and the camaraderie that comes with the sport. events often feel like family gatherings, with supporters cheering on their favourite teams and sharing tips and stories.

rally events also embrace a wide range of participants, from seasoned pros to enthusiastic amateurs. this inclusivity fosters a unique environment where everyone can learn and improve, making it accessible to all who have a passion for motorsport.

the future of rally racing

image source: ewing subaru of plano

looking ahead, the future of rally racing seems bright. with a growing interest in motorsports as a whole, rallying stands out due to its adventurous spirit and connection to nature. events are becoming more accessible, and with technological advancements in both cars and navigation systems, we can expect even more thrilling competitions.

as rally racing continues to evolve, it's bound to attract even more fans and participants, keeping the spirit of this exhilarating sport alive and well, so, whether you're watching from the sidelines or dreaming of taking the wheel yourself, rally racing offers a unique blend of speed, skill, and sheer excitement that few other sports can match.

sources

"rally." encyclopedia britannica, www.britannica.com/sports/rally-automobile-racing

"rallying." wikipedia, 30 sept. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/rallying

iger, bradley. "hit the dirt: how rally is making inroads in the us." performance racing industry, 1 jan. 2024, www.performanceracing.com/magazine/featured/01-01-2024/hit-dirt-how-rally-making-inroads-us

"what is a rally?" nasa rally sport, www.nasarallysport.com/main/what_is_a_rally

"the history of rally racing: origins, evolution, and iconic moments." rethink your rubber, blog.tirestreets.com/all-blogs/origins-of-rally-racing-part-1

"rally basics." world rally blog, www.worldrallyblog.com/rally-basics/

"rallying - the beating heart of uk motorsport." motorsport uk, www.motorsportuk.org/get-started/types-of-motor-sport/rallying/

wood, robert. "car rally racing the sport." top end sports, mar. 2015, www.topendsports.com/sport/list/rallying.htm#google_vignette

if any errors or typos are noticed, PLS PLS point them out via comment, ask, or dm. if there is a specific topic you would like me to cover, send in an ask and i'll look into it!

[smittenroses]

— Broken Parts

Carrd | Ko-fi | Patreon | Archive of Our Own Mirror

Fandom No Straight Roads Pairing 1010/reader Chapter Summary The boys have landed themselves in a situation again, and with their situation comes a new addition.

Masterlist | Next Chapter »

Rin knew he wasn’t special, he was a robot that was made to be easily replaceable; his mind was able to travel between bodies, different systems — it was in his nature to be able to overcome and adapt the many scenarios he would have to face, but, this little robot that had been cleaning their home was now laying at his feet, broken.

This robot couldn’t be as quickly replaced as they did.

It was made to be sturdy, it had been made to last a long time, but, as it laid there in a mess of parts from where their bodies had collided with the machine, Rin couldn’t help but give it a nudge with the tip of his foot, watching the lights of the machine slowly blink away, almost as if trying to get out a message before it finally would die.

“I didn’t break it.” Haym was the first to speak, yellow eyes shifting between the different brothers as he stood there, the tablet that he had been crying over moments before clutched to his chest, the sleeves of his shirt hung over his hands. “I swear I didn’t break it, I didn’t move from the couch by choice.” The couch was currently flipped, an effort made by Eloni to keep himself upright when his prank had gone off, causing the couch to jump from his position.

“I didn’t break it either.” Purl-hew was the next to speak as he stayed as far back as he could, though he wasn’t able to hide the panic in his eyes at the scene, Rin being able to see the way his eyes glitched behind the glasses, either knowing he broke the machine or he had sustained damage to his visuals. “I think Zimelu broke it.”

“The fuck?” Zimelu started, the red one throwing his arms up in the air as he spoke, “I didn’t break anything, I was just proving you wrong that you’re not the one they like the most.”

Rin knew the truth behind it but he kept his mouth shut, letting the silver eyes of his flicker over to Eloni, watching as he held the oversized party popper in his arms; a prank that the two of them had been planning for show on an upcoming live, it seemed that Eloni’s effort had gone to waste, instead, it now painted the crime scene in streamers and what Rin could assume was the washable ink that children would use in their art.

“Well, I didn’t break it either.” Rin tossed the script he had been rehearsing onto the glass coffee table that stood next to the robot, the only thing that hadn’t been upturned in that wasn’t bolted to the floor or the wall. It didn’t resemble much of the clear substance it was made of more than a party table cloth one would use at a children’s birthday party, but, as he crouched down to the robot again, he could see that there was still some battery left.

He watched the warning flash on the screen in multiple languages, the wheels of the robot spinning wildly in an attempt to try and upright itself despite the odd angle the wheels were bent at, knowing that the smell of burning rubber would be incredibly hard to miss to the human nose.

“We should bury it,” Zimelu said, picking up the cleaner robot easily, the strength that they had built into their skeletons coming in handy as he held the bot like it was nothing, listening to the inner mechanisms try and work themselves out. “Hide this from the big J, he can’t get upset if he can’t find it, yeah?”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea…” The party popper was gone from his hands as Eloni stood next to Zimelu, picking up the mess of wiring that spilled from the robot’s neck, piling it on top, “He can’t remember them all, right?”

“Until he notices that a robot is missing from a charging station.” Purl-hew’s fingers noticeably clutched the book in his hands as he spoke, barely containing the strength from ripping it in two, “Maintenance days, routine cleaning, he’ll eventually notice.”

“Then we hide the charger too.”

The noises blurred together into one at this point, Rin staring hard at the machine that sat in Zimelu’s arms, watching the warning blink and flicker, watching the robot desperately run a system diagnostic and silently call for help. It was pitful, he was glad that the robot was unable to talk or do anything like they did, fearing that the robot would scream out and sound too human for them to do what they needed to.

A shrill screech filled the room, Zimelu dropping the robot onto the hard wooden floors out of shock, the robot screaming its final cry before the screen finally went flat, laying limp in a sea of bright colours and several colourful bodies. Rin heard them long before they came, his head tilting towards the doorway to watch as their creator and their ‘father’ rounded himself into the room, a sword high in his hand.

One would question where he got the sword, but, when there was a sword around the corner every step you took just for decoration, you knew where it came from long before you could guess where he got it from. “What was that?!” Neon J shouted in alarm, the screen beeping with alarm as he attempted to locate the sound of what had screamed.

The sword was lowered as the boys stepped away from the body, revealing the cold metal to their creator. If he still had his face, Rin could imagine that it would be twisted in annoyance, the screen turning off for a moment before walking off slowly, a familiar white and pink face peeking around the corner soon after.

“What was that about not needing human staff?” Eve tsked to the cyborg, leaving the robot boys to stand in the middle of their mess.

Rin picked up the script again, leaving the room.

Rin had rarely found himself interested in others outside of their social circle, however, when a new face showed up at his home, he couldn’t help but be taken aback. Neon J rarely brought in help from the outside, even rarer that they would be within the home. Rin had listened to the ramblings of Neon J before about his paranoia that someone would come and steal things or even steal their blueprints to make knockoffs, but, Rin had never really thought on it too much until now.

With the uniform and the cleaning supplies they lugged around everywhere, he knew this had to be the replacement for the robot that now sat at the bottom of the bin, but, it felt weird knowing that there was a living human in the mansion’s walls that wasn’t one of the other stars.

Even weirder still, she didn’t seem to react too ‘fannish’ around them. As a robot built to entertain and bring joy to people, Rin was used to people looking directly at him whenever he passed by, always reacting in a very similar manner no matter who it was, but, every time he passed this maid, this lady, he noted how she never batted an eye unless she was spoken to. It hadn’t taken long for his brothers to follow in his footsteps in their confusion, Rin able to see how each tried to gain knowledge on who the favourite may be by being around her.

She didn’t react besides the pleasantries.

“Do you think she’s a robot too?” Haym whispered, the group of ‘brothers’ hiding around the corner from where the maid currently worked, watching as she polished silverware, sitting at the big dining table that only served as decoration more than practicality. It had been a question Rin had asked already, but, watching Haym’s eyes turn briefly red before returning to their usual yellow, he watched his shoulders fall.

The maid had a heat signature, she was human.

“Maybe she’s a super spy who’s been sent by another government to steal us?”

“Eloni, that’s the stupidest thing I have heard you say.” Zimelu’s answer was to the point as he leaned against the wall next to Purl-hew, Rin turning his head just enough to watch as his brother flicked through something on his phone with the help of the synthetic skin on his fingertips.

They said they were tagging along to make sure the other three weren’t getting in trouble, but Rin knew they were just as curious about the human woman.

“It could be likely…” Rin said, peeking his head around the corner again, watching as the human put down another spoon, the small pile of silver growing, “But she’s also good at what she does.”

The silence was deafening, too much so, but, as Rin saw something begin to descend from the ceiling in the middle of his vision, he crossed his eyes and watched as a spider slowly crawled down, and down, flicking his vision between Haym who was crouched below and the spider, reaching out his hand to grab at the web string that connected it above. Watching with horror as the spider dropped the string, it landed on Haym’s hand as it reached up to adjust some of the fake hair on his head.

The fallout was instant, Haym attempting to get away from the spider as fast as he could — too bad he didn’t realise he went backwards, crashing into Rin’s body as he went. Crashing, banging, errors flashing across Rin’s screen, it all happened so quickly and everything was just too loud for him to hear the rushed footsteps over to the doorway, seeing the maid staring down at them with such alarm.

He knew one of his hands disconnected, that was for sure, but, as he sat up, he took note of the pressure in his lap and looked down. Haym’s head stared up at him, disconnected from the rest of his body.

“Oh goodness!” The woman said, her hand coming up to her mouth as she took in the full extent of the chaos, “Are you ok? Do you feel pain?” It seemed that Neon J hadn’t briefed her on how they worked based on the reactions, Rin still attempted to clear his system of the errors as he listened to the maid, remaining seated on the floor as he ran a system diagnostic to check for anything else missing.

“We just fell for you, sweetheart.” Rin’s programming took control, feeling the control he had slip for a moment as it took over, spitting out the line that he had been pre-programmed to say in case of collisions on the stage, his brothers saying similar things that even Rin couldn’t help but cringe at, their voices as flat as the line was.

Yet she didn’t react to it, instead choosing to kneel by Haym’s body, hands hovering over it, almost unsure of what to do.

“Having trouble touching perfection?” Haym said. Rin knew he was crying on the inside knowing that he hated that line in particular, but, as her gaze focused on the disembodied head on Rin’s lap, the flirting, the programmed lines, they came to a halt at what was said.

“Do… Do I have permission to touch you?”

Rin had never heard it before. Fans had a habit of taking, and taking, and taking, never giving anything back in return despite everything that they did for them. He was used to just being the machine that entertained people, that was just there to be… a machine.

Never before had he been asked this, never before had his system gone as quiet as it did, leaving Rin’s conscious mind floating in a void.

“That…” Rin knew that if he were alive like he had thought about many times before, he would have a dry mouth, but, processing his words carefully, he nodded slowly, “That would be great.”

The maid’s hands worked with instruction, Haym finding his own words as he instructed her what to do, Rin holding his brother’s head upright with the hand that was still attached, watching as the woman asked questions, made sure they were comfortable with each movement, with each touch she gave to the parts that had been flung across the hall.

It made Rin’s system question the feeling that warmed his circuits as she finally got to him, her hand gripped his disconnected hand, holding back the feeling of wanting to squeeze it back as he felt his system pair it back to his body, fingers twitching as the warmth left his palm.

He was the ‘selfish’ one for attention on stage, but, he wished he was able to feel that warmth a little longer.

[diabolus1exmachina]

Rochdale GT

Rochdale Motor Panels & Engineering Ltd started in 1948 as panel beaters before turning to the manufacture of aluminium bodies for competition cars and then glassfibre bodyshells for the specials-building industry. By 1954 Rochdale was offering its MkIV glassfibre body, intended for the pre-war Austin Seven chassis. With the latter's availability declining, Rochdale offered the more extensive 'ST' kit for the Ford Ten/Popular chassis. The 'ST' was an open design lacking torsional stiffness, and after a few had been made it was superseded by the beautifully proportioned Rochdale 'GT', which according to its maker was 'not a shell to adapt to your Ford but a complete body designed specifically to fit'. Intended for the Ford 8/10hp chassis, the 'GT' became available from 1960 with Rochdale's own frame. One of the most elegant small sports cars of its day, the 'GT' would go on to be Rochdale's best-selling model, with an estimated 1,350-or-so made, of which it is believed fewer than 80 survive. Rochdale abandoned the kit-car side of its business in the early 1970s.

Featuring a lightened semi-spaceframe chassis, built in period using Ford Popular side members, the car is powered by a full-race specification 1½-litre Coventry-Climax FWB engine producing 140bhp. Other specification highlights include an integral roll cage; straight-cut close-ratio gearbox; double-wishbone front suspension; Lotus 11 front discs and magnesium callipers; Austin Metropolitan rear axle with limited-slip differential and five-link location; competition brake linings at the rear; 15" wire wheels shod with Dunlop racing tyres; long-range 'Le Mans' fuel tank; Speedwell gauges; Halda Speedpilot; and Heuer Monte Carlo stopwatch.

[saucy-mesothelioma]

October 4th: The Exorcist

The Exorcist was released in 1973 and was directed by William Friedkin. The plot of this film follows the plight of single mother Chris MacNeil (played by Ellen Burstyn) as she struggles to help her daughter Regan (Linda Blair) who has begun to act strangely, completely changing her personality. When medical help fails them, Chris seeks out a local priest by the name of Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller). After visiting a quickly worsening Regan, Father Karrass agrees to perform an exorcism on the girl along with the help of expert exorcist Father Lankester Merrin (Max von Sydow). The Exorcist is a wel-known and beloved horror movie, and was the first horror film to be nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars. It won two awards for Best Screen Play Adaption and for Best Sound Mixing, and it is considered by many to be the scariest horror movie of all time. The film avoids typical horror tropes, focusing on the pain endured by Regan rather than relying on cheap jumpscares. It slowly builds its horror, allowing the audience to learn to care about Regan's character before forcing us to witness the waking nightmare she is forced to live through. Since Friedkin primarily directed documentaries and had never done a horror movie before, he opted for a "realistic" approach: sticking with something familiar to many people (the topic of religion, primarily Christianity/Catholicism) and using that familiarity to draw the audience in. It's thanks to this unique approach that The Exorcist managed to reshape aspects of the genre and continues to be considered one of the greatest and influential films to horror media today. I could not find any platforms where you can watch it for free. Content Warnings for the Film (may contain spoilers): strong religious themes, calling a German a Nazi, medical scene with prominent needles, child abuse/torture (via demon), child self-violating/mutilating with a crucifix, vomit

And as an added bonus, which I might continue for specific films, I'm going to go on a quick tangent on some of the practical effects in this movie because I'm obsessed with that kind of thing. Since the Steadicam hadn't been invented yet, for the scene where the camera follows people up the stairs a swing was actually built for the cameraman to sit on, where he was then pulled up the stairs by other crew members. For the final act of the film, which consists of the exorcism itself, it required three different bed rigs, eight pneumatic wheels to shake the entire set, and intense refrigeration so the actors' breath could be seen. To achieve the refrigeration, the walls of the bedroom set were insulated with 8 inches of fiberglass so four massive AC units could cool the room overnight to 40 degrees below 0. Due to the lighting rings heating up the room, that meant that they had to shoot those scenes in one hour increments over 60 days. For the iconic head-spinning 360 degrees, a full-scale animatronic in the likeness of actor Linda Blair. And finally, for the similarly iconic levitation scene, Blair was held up with wires that were hand painted with dotted lines, which allowed them to blend in with the lighting no matter how much it changed. Without Dick Smith's makeup and Marcel Vercoutere's special effects expertise, this movie wouldn't have been as incredible and influential as it is today. If you want to see more of the behind the scenes process, check out this great Behind the Scenes footage Raising Hell: Filming the Exorcist, which includes some of the practical effects I mentioned here

[devnmon]

Days Gone Bye.

Chapter One: Written in My Stars

Summary: Daryl and his brother Merle hear about the impending state of doom that's brought the apocalypse on in Atlanta. They hit the road, ending up in a nearby forest where Merle hatches a plan in order to get them "on top again", or so he says..

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter warnings: Merle Dixon, typical TWD violence/walkers, scary situations

wc: 3.1k

The distant echo of sirens and helicopter blades filled the sky as Daryl Dixon and his brother Merle drove through backroads in a truck, with the trailer carrying Merle's motorcycle. They'd been ready to travel back into Atlanta, until the two heard reports of people dying and coming back to life, only to become a brainless species of creatures that roamed the Earth feasting on human flesh. Luckily for the Dixon brothers, their hobbies allowed them to adapt somewhat easily to living in the woods.

Granted, nights were terrifying, having to park on the side of the road, taking turns staying up all night to watch for the dead strolling by. Due to the rising number of walkers by day, the brothers found themselves stuck in one area or another.

A while passed before Merle spoke, the two sharing a pack of Daryl's cigarettes and listening to whatever broadcast on the radio they could find. Most of the stations replayed the same message, their outage for any connection to other individuals burning out. Daryl found himself sat chewing on his nails, another anxious habit and coping mechanism he couldn't seem to break.

"Ah shit.. damn tank's empty." Merle glanced down to the fuel indicator, lingering way past empty. Startled, Daryl looked over at his brother as they noticed the truck was starting to slow on its own.

"Guess we're walkin'.." Daryl trailed off as a police vehicle came into view. "Unless..."

The breaks of the truck squealed and brought it to a full stop, getting rolled off the road. Daryl b-lined right for the police vehicle with his knife drawn, clearing his sight line for walkers.

Daryl's better judgment deceived him, knowing there was no possible way a police vehicle this intact would have any fuel or power. As he opened the door, a stench of bad coffee and stale donuts wafted right into his face. Daryl hopped into the driver's seat, checking the console and glovebox for keys to the truck, before ripping the wires out from under the steering wheel to hot-wire.

Once, twice, three times Daryl tried to start the engine up, growing frustrated and sweaty at the dried out truck.

No gasoline, no food, and no useful supplies.

Daryl almost gave up, looking around until he remembered that all police cb radios run on battery power. The truck didn't need to have gas in it, the radio had its own supply of power. His hands shot towards the black box, twisting and turning dials for a more stable connection. He came across repeats of the same message, broadcasted on most of the news and local channels.

He was persistent, relentlessly tuning the radio for any chance of survivors, thinking he failed, until he'd heard a voice from one of the channels. He clamored for the walkie attached to it, finding the button that would communicate his voice with anyone's on the air.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" He panted, waiting for a response, but only getting broken pieces of audio in return. It was nothing he could make out. he was about to try again, until Merle's voice echoed behind him.

"What the hell are you doing over there, huh? Ain't no way you're gonna get through to anyone on that piece of crap." Daryl whipped his head around to where his brother sat, giving him an unbelieving look, shook his head, and continued calling out.

"Anyone?!? Is anyone there? I'm just off of mile 41 on the highway I-"

Daryl was so focused on trying to get in contact with the voice he heard, he hadn't picked up on Merle walking toward him. Out of nowhere, he slapped the radio out of Daryl's hands before he could go any further.

"Ain't nobody there, I told ya! Nobody gon' answer ya, boy! Now you listen to me, we're gonna take whatever shit we can carry, and get the hell outta here before someone shows up! Ya hear me?!"

Always with the yelling, his brother.

"Man, ain't you wanna know if there's people out there? We should at least try!" Daryl scoffed as he threw his hands in the air, hopping out of the truck.

"Both trucks got no fuel, no food. It's a waste of time. I say we leave 'er here, mark it on a map and then come back for our shit when we settle someplace.. You good with that, baby brother?"

"When you come back for your shit, ya mean.. Whatever. Let's jus' get outta here." Daryl gathered his pack and bow and slung them on his back.

"Alright, help me hide the truck." Merle started gathering some branches, but dropped them as Daryl just stood there.

"For what?"

"So my hog don't get stolen, that's why. No reason to leave a perfectly good bike out in the open to rust." He began picking them up again, Daryl helping him do so. They rolled the truck next to the police vehicle, draping the two of them with leaves. Against the trees, there wasn't much to see when the two trucks were covered. The brothers picked up what was left of their belongings, and headed out into the forest.

Merle spent much of the day blabbering on about the kind of misbehavior he used to get into when Daryl wasn't around; but he always reminded him that blood was thicker than water, making it clear to him that nobody would be there for him like his brother was. It was one of Merle's more manipulative tactics of getting Daryl to stay by his side, since the younger Dixon believed that he could only trust family in a time like this.

"So, ya really believe all that nonsense 'bout people comin back from the dead? Chewin' on human flesh? I dunno, man.." Merle's voice cut through the silence of the path they walked.

"Seems believable enough... mean, I haven't seen one of 'em dead freaks yet but when i do, I'll let ya know." Daryl continued to stare out into the distance.

The two were thick as thieves, set loose roaming a large section of a Georgia forest. These woods were familiar to the Dixon brothers, growing up hunting and camping here after their mother died.

Daryl had always been good with a crossbow, while Merle preferred guns, their weapons somewhat a mirror of themselves in a way.

Merle always said everything he was thinking, the exact minute he thought it. Always nitpicking and going on and on and on about things from the old world he got annoyed with, and how he would change it if he could. It was narcissistic and undeniably exactly who Merle was. Daryl on the other hand, only said what upset him when Merle pushed the right buttons. Most times they hashed it out, letting it go after that.

Other times, when Merle had made it so far under Daryl's already thickened skin, was when he truly couldn't tell his brother off. Instead, he took his thoughts out in a journal. Ever since his mother gifted him one, Daryl and his journal were inseparable. He found it comforting to place his thoughts somewhere else, relishing in the fact that he was putting his brain on paper. Daryl never told anyone about this hobby of his, since Merle would belittle him for not being "man enough" and dealing with his emotions a different way. Daryl wouldn't couldn't let Merle ruin his one safe space.

He found it easier to write how he felt more naturally when he was alone. Though he was alone the majority of days when Merle was hunting, he preferred when it was safe for him to let his guard down around himself. Sometimes he wished he could tell these thoughts to a person he loved. He had his doubts to if he would ever have someone like that in his life. But Daryl would wait for that day, no matter how long it took.

The first few days of travel were rough, the two learning to get used to the elements of earth once again. They camped out every two to three days in a different area, their daily activities including collecting tinder for campfires at night, since the summer days cooled down immediately after the sun set. It wasn't until Daryl started catching squirrels that they finally didn't go hungry for days.

One particular afternoon, after his daily, more than always successful hunt, Daryl returned to Merle packing up their supplies and campsite. Daryl didn't expect to be moving this early, since the two had just set up this site the night before. The squirrels he caught flung from around his chest as he walked toward merle.

"What's goin' on? We leavin' already? Man, I jus' got back from huntin' so we could eat!" Slightly agitated that Merle hadn't said a single word since he came over, his heart rate quickened and beads of sweat began to coat his palms.

"We gotta move on, baby brother. Can't stay here forever. Plus, I got an idea." Merle's smirk plastered across his face had the telltale signs of a plan that most likely had an ulterior motive.

The gear Daryl took off of his body clattered to the ground as he began to help Merle pack up their site. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto his arm, his light colored hair damp from being out all day in the heat.

"Yeah? An' what bright idea is that?" He shared a looked with Merle, skeptical at what was about to come out of his mouth. Most of his brother's plans involved violence, or not-so-friendly actions.

"We find a camp.. small one. Not too many people. We introduce ourselves, get to know 'em. Then one night while they least expect it, we rob 'em blind."

Holy shit, my brother's gonna get me fuckin' killed.

Merle's plan left Daryl realizing his brother will never change, knowing his juvie days were most, if not all, due to theft. It was a bad plan that could get the both of them killed, but he trusted Merle more than he doubted him. He only shot him a look of disbelief.

"What? Don't look at me like that, Darlina. You know that's exactly what we got to do in this world, or we ain't gonna make it. Admit it. C'mon.. First camp we find, we just wait for our moment."

"Alright, I'm in." Merle laughed and clapped his hands together, knowing he'd just roped Daryl into another one of his devious plans. The rest of his day was spent wondering silently if he was going to follow every single little thing Merle did, including his plan to rob the first camp they found.

He couldn't be bothered to pester his brother in order to change his mind about it, Daryl knew better than that. Instead, a begrudging feeling washed over him, resent for his brother poking at him.

As night came, the brothers set up camp once again, Daryl going out to hunt for their dinner like he always did. The older Dixon set up the campfire, kindling it and keeping it low until Daryl returned with meat. It was usually always squirrel, but on some occasions, Daryl was able to find a good size bird or slightly bigger animal to sustain them for the night. The two were a good team; always had each other's backs, cracking jokes and whatnot until they eventually ended up arguing again.

This time, it was over who got the bigger piece of meat; Daryl believed he was entitled to it, being the one who always hunts for their food. Merle chose to butt in with his ever so familiar I taught you everything you know about huntin', baby brother, so you should show a little respect.

Exhausted from his travels, Daryl decided to bite his tongue and leave it at that. He scowled at his brother, watching as he chowed down on the bigger piece of meat, leaving his brother the less-meaty other half. Daryl grunted to himself as he ate, picking the bones clean and flicking them off into the distance. He glanced over at his brother once more as Daryl stood, picking up the strap of his pack and flinging it over his shoulder, doing the same with his bow.

"Takin' a piss. Be back." He glanced around the campsite, grabbing the flashlight he'd placed on the log stump near him, "An' put out the fire."

"Whatever you say, Darlina." Merle chuckled to himself, continuing to eat his portion of meat by the fire. He watched as Daryl walked away, knowing he would return sooner or later.

Daryl found himself wandering for a place to sit and relax for a few minutes without the presence of Merle. Grabbing his flashlight, he clicked it on for more visibility of the forest, although he was always aware of his surroundings. Daryl was skilled in everything Merle had taught him, almost better at everything than him. The archer was more precise, more patient, more undetectable when he hunted. Not to mention those skills coming in handy in times like this. His left hand went for his belt, the leather sheath carrying the blade Daryl's had since he was 15. It was a simple hunting knife, with a wooden handle, his initials carved into it as well.

Unsheathing the strap just in case he needed to act fast, Daryl's eyes darted around the dark forest. Only the sound of crickets and nocturnal animals filled the air, still cooling down without the sun's blazing heat. The time was lost to him as he continued to walk through the trees.

Daryl froze in his tracks as he picked up scattered footsteps nearby. The steps sounded human, but he'd been confused by the sound, since he knew Merle wouldn't leave the campsite unattended.

He crouched down behind a nearby tree, pulling out his knife and gripping it in the palm of his hand. As the footsteps grew closer, Daryl turned to the right, a large tree coming into view. This was the perfect spot he'd been looking for, until he bean to hear those same footsteps again.

Staggered, like a wounded animal, but coulda sworn those were human, unless...

In that moment, Daryl reacted the fastest he ever had, whipping his body around just in time to push away a geek one step from taking a bite out of him. This was the first one of the dead he'd come across, so he was a little overtaken by how it repeated to lunge at him, driven by the hunger death brought.

Daryl grasped for its neck, the groaning sound and stench of the dead-body-walking overwhelming him. It took Daryl a minute to realize his knife was in his hand. As a reflex, he plunged the knife into the geek's abdomen, but when it faltered only slightly, Daryl's eyes widened.

Grunting, he pushed the figure back, kicking its knee when it approached again so it fell, still grabbing for him.

"Maybe this'll do it..." He raised his right arm, plunging the blade into its forehead. A slight cracking sound was heard, before the walker ceased movement, lying lifeless on the ground.

Daryl's chest heaved, glancing around cautiously, to check if any walkers decided to tread behind the one he'd already put down. He pulled the blade out of the walker's head, the cracking of it's skull sounding out. His hand tugged at the red rag in his back pocket, cleaning the sharp metal of his knife, sheathing it back around his waist.

The first time Daryl actually looked up from the body below, a small smile cracked onto his face. Though he'd almost been food for a walker, he still thought it was the perfect place to take a seat.

"So that's what ya sumbitches look like, huh? Me, one, geek, zero."

Daryl spit at the lifeless body on the ground, and walked away.

He approached the area he'd spotted earlier, dropping his bow and pack to the ground, reaching for his pack quite quickly. The buckles clinked as his leather bag opened, rough against the skin of his fingertips. Daryl reached inside, his brain knowing what he's grabbing for. As his hand felt around in the pack, the object in mind was book-like, but not quite close. Daryl finally pulled the leather bound journal out of his pack, his hand diving right back in to find his writing utensil. He was picky with those, only wanting to use a specific type because of how smoothly they wrote.

He knew it was irrational to be picky with pens, this was the apocalypse, of course. But he always went out of his way to find more pens every time he went out, never wanting to run out of the right kind.

Daryl muttered to himself as he finally found the pen, stuffed in the bottom, under everything else. Relief washed over him as he undid his journal, flipping through pages of past entries and little drawings of things he saw on the road.

He started a new entry, labelling it 'day one' for the first day of the new world. Daryl only had one rule for himself: don't let anyone know about your journal.

God forbid Merle found out.

Daryl knew the only thing he would hear from him about it was a tangent about how soft he was, how he needed to just face his emotions like "real men do". It was just one bit of the bullshit Merle threw at him. Daryl only threw punches when his brother infuriated him to no end, always going on about some stupid minuscule thing he did before the fall. Though he felt guilty for going along with all the things Merle did, some legal, most illegal, at least he had someone that would always be there. Daryl believed that he would only have family in the end.

For now, he only had Merle.

As he sat, Daryl took the opportunity to look up at the stars that now populated the sky. He took a breath, inhaling as his lungs filled with air, and exhaling, taking the stress from his day today and letting it wash out of his body. The cool air settled on his skin, settling his heart and calming him.

Daryl finally looked down at the page, clicked his pen, and began writing.

Day one

Been out n on the road with Merle since we got back from huntin’ and everyone was sayin' the dead were walkin' round chewin' on people. So we packed what shit we had n left. Been in the woods huntin' and eatin' whatever we could manage. Merle’s been sayin we should rob the first camp we find. Dunno how I feel about it, don’t think random people deserve that shit. They deserve to survive as much as us. Hopefully we’ll find somewhere safe soon.

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this fic! Feedback motivates me to write more, so please don't hesitate to leave some in my inbox!!

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[denishsmith]

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[britishwheel]

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[madokamagicasecrets]

I got a discounted Steam Deck and I have a few requests for if Valve ever makes a deck 2.

I think instead of using the leftmost mouse pad type thing as the scroll wheel, I think the L1 and R1 should have clickable scroll wheels, which would feel much more organic for things like scrolling through weapons in an FPS or Minecraft's hotbar. Plus, the clicking could be used for secondary hotbars, menus or weapons.

Second, while I like that you can "click" the mouse pads, I think each corner should be its own click. It would make it a bit more natural to map the top 2 as left and right click, and perhaps the bottom 2 could be like when some mice have extra buttons on the side.

Third, I think the pads having mouse acceleration by default is a bit weird and makes things harder to navigate, especially on desktop mode that I'm betting most people using the deck seriously will be primarily using. I also wonder if maybe the corners of the pads should be separate buttons rather than part of the pad, so that clicking doesn't accidentally cause you to slip the cursor and accidentally click the wrong thing, which I have done.

Fourth, I think that there should be additional USB and C ports for things like wired keyboards, mice, or Bluetooth devices that need adapters to function. It would also make porting over files a bit easier than the microSD slot is. And given things like a keyboard and mouse might be crucial to certain games, it should probably have a kickstand and maybe even an HDMI port.

Fifth, and this is much more minor, I think modification should be a bit more accessible, maybe with a hatch on the back held by a screw rather than just screws on a flat back. That way you could throw bigger SSDs in more easily and also do RAM upgrades, which would definitely extend its lifespan. I wanna get a lot of use out of this thing, even with the discounted price and a drop from its initial price on top of that. Plus, if you make the shell more accessible, people can customize the shells, and maybe Valve could even sell their own first party ones. Different colors or patterns would be neat.

I'm still pretty happy with it, but these are all small things that would push it from "something I'm happy with" to "certified best handheld machine I could possibly buy".

[thursdayisbetterthanfriday]

Simulations of Cybernetic Meadows - Recreating Life

Part 1 - History of Technology

The New Yorker recently put out a great article, covering the modern day conversations we're having about how "lifelike" AI systems are:

It's a great article, which covers a lot of modern discourse around the last 25 years around how we've attempted to make "lifelike" machines. In an age of incredible speed and velocity in progress, we often forget how things have ended up this way. If you look, it turns out the quest for lifelike machines has been going on for a lot longer than people might suppose.

1st Century Antiquity - Age of Inquiry - The Mortal Hephaestus:

When people think of lifelike robots, they often jump to the robots of the 20th century. The past, however, is deep and full of secrets for those who know where to look.

Hero of Alexandria was a master craftsman, and mathematician, famous for one of the world's first steam engines, and Heron's formula for calculating the area of a triangle. He also created some of the first known humanoid automata.

This video is slightly misleading, as it shows a combination of his efforts, and that of another, but Hero himself was able to create moving automata that used weights as potential energy to drive wheeled devices around a room. The Herakleidon Museum does also have videos recreating his original mechanism.

The Greeks were, in particular, prolific in their creation of automata which mimicked life.

18th Century - Artisanal Age - Dreams of Automata

The writer is a mechanical automaton, created in 1770, by the aritst Pierre Jacquet-Droz. It is a marvel of early engineering, using a series of what are called "cams" to direct a machine in the shape of a child to write sentences.

It combines the mechanical aspects of writing, with the aesthetic appearance of a child, in order to create a work of art. It is also one of the first programmable machines, using a series of replacable letters to change what words are written.

But machines with lifelike qualities are not just limited to human motions. Master British automata makers John Joseph Merlin and John Cox created an astoundingly lifelike rendition of a swan in 1773, which preened its feathers, and caught fish from a pond.

Both of these devices were driven by the creation of advanced clockwork, and machining technologies. As with today's semiconductor revolution, clockwork started off the size of rooms until it was progressively miniaturized into the palm of your hand.

While the 18th century artisans and mechanists were able to create wondrous mechanical motions, they were not truly able to replicate the mechanics of "thinking". The writer is one of the few examples of programmatic "thinking", but cannot independently operate.

20th Century - The Cybernetic Age - Adaptation and Evolution:

The advent of thermodynamics, and the rise of electronics, led to new means by which to create "living machines". In the 20th century, it also led to differing approaches to simulating life, such as cybernetics and expert systems. Walter Grey's tortoise robots are a great example of the cybernetic attempts to create complex behaviours by using simple rules in the form of both a light and touch sensor.

This robotic tortoise was able to exhibit very lifelike behaviours and reach goals without explicit instructed programming, such as with The Writer automaton.

This is a key "adaptation" and evolution from the concept of an automaton. Whereas automatons had simulated the mechanics of life though motion and muscle, robots such as the tortoise started to simulate the mechanics of thought through electronic wiring and circuitry.

The rise of the integrated circuit, and transistor, has been key to allowing modern automata/robots to reach advanced levels of ability unthinkable in pre-modern times.

Shakey represents another branch of 20th century robotics, the expert system, led by ideas similar to the 19th century automata, but updated exponentially. By using several sensors, Shakey was able to navigate around rooms and create internal representations of the rooms it was in, in order to perform objectives.

21st Century - Age of Artificial Neural Networks - Memory and Thought:

Similar to the age of automata, we have entered another age of biomimicry, this time using Artificial Neural Networks. Instead of attempting to replicate the mechanics of actions, we are instead attempting to replicate the organic mechanics of thought. One of the key ideas behind life is that it is self-sustaining - it operates all on its own. 18th/19th century automata weren't able to do this and 20th century automata/robotics did to a certain extent, but were often still viewed as machines with function.

Sony's AIBO represents a more "lifelike" kind of design - where the entire system is driven by "curiosity" rather than by specific instruction. While it posseses some subroutines, similar to its 20th century counterparts, it surpasses them in how it can also adaptively learn new behaviours to better suit its surroundings, both in practical settings (finding its way around) and social settings (recognising people, and interacting with them in a socially "successful" way). The fields of reinforcement learning and artificial neural networks allow for complex behaviours to be simulated for the first time. Sony's AIBO is an excellent example of this in practice, with the robotic dog able to learn through positive reinforcement verbally, or via tactile methods, to promote certain behaviours.

It can even use computer vision capabilities to recognise specific users on sight, as well as allowing it to create its own internal model of the world around it. Much like the 18th to 19th century automata, AIBO also attempts to replicate the actions of life itself, with its design, and actions, replicating that of a puppy or small dog. Unlike the automatons of old, however, the use of tactile, vision and sound sensors allow its form to play some function in its operation aside from aesthetics.

Cybernetic Meadows - The Future?

As we endow robotics systems with ever greater ability, how will we interact with them in the future, and how lifelike will they truly become? Humanity has always, in some form or another, sought to replicate life itself through the medium of art and engineering. Only in time will we see the results.

[elisdodo]

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