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TodayOkay, done for now...3 comments · 91 views
Thanks to Google's unreliable chat on the doc, I'm afraid I'll be cutting tonight's session short. I will, however attempt again tomorrow night, if anyone is interested.
If there's an option you guys might know to allow people to chat so that there's more interaction than just me typing away, please let me know.
6 comments · 187 views
Here's some flavor text to put us in the mood:
Commander Shepard - Male: What're you up to now, Zaeed?
Zaeed Massani: Next time another clone of yours tries stealing your life, we'll have a nice little surprise rigged for them. Isn't that right, Garrus?
Garrus Vakarian: [Over Zaeed's radio] Spared no expense.
Zaeed Massani: So, in walks your clone, takes a look around, sees this great hot tub and says to themself, "hey, I fancy a dip."
Garrus Vakarian: Big mistake.
Zaeed Massani: Huge. The minute they put so much as a toe in the water, a timer starts counting down.
Commander Shepard - Male: To what?
Zaeed Massani: Arma-fucking-geddon. Thirty seconds later, this baby heats right up.
Commander Shepard - Male: And then what?
Zaeed Massani: You ever swim a few laps on the surface of the sun? No? Well, your clone will be. Heh-heh. That'll teach 'em.
Commander Shepard - Male: But what if I want to use the hot tub?
Zaeed Massani: Covered that. It's keyed to your DNA.
Commander Shepard - Male: But a clone would have the same DNA as me.
Zaeed Massani: Goddamned clone.
8 comments · 170 views
1w, 2d43 Students Killed59 comments · 1,086 views
I normally don't use my blog for this, but if I don't say anything about this, I'll regret it.
Now, some of you are probably aware of what happened in Mexico with the 43 students gone missing in September and what happened afterwards... the fact that it basically exploded into violent riots is not surprising.
A couple of years ago, a friend of mine decided to drive from Mexico City to New Laredo, a drive he had done several times before. We never heard from him again. A couple of cartel members were caught at one point and identified his vehicle and confessed to shooting him because they had felt like it.
Several years ago, the cousin of a friend of mine was abducted and killed by kidnappers seeking money. Another acquaintance at the time got shot for bumping someone on the road. And those two were before the Cartels became the big news item internationally.
This might seem distant and possibly irrelevant to you, since you're most likely not in Mexico and who cares about other contries right? Well, there's plenty of us who do care, who have friends and family there, and it affects us. You know us. You read our stories, and blogs and share with us pictures and memes on Tumblr or the Social Media site of your choice.
Tragedy happens all over the world, but remaining silent and doing nothing, is not a good way to deal with it. I'm not advocating violence here, either, but I think, that if I have about 3440 followers here, all of you with contacts and all of them with contacts of their own, we can do something. Something small, maybe, but perhaps enough to add up to what's happening out there and make a difference.
So what am I asking for? Get informed, see what's going on, how others around the world are already protesting it, from South Korea to Brazil. Think how you would feel... if you're a student, the morning after you said goodbye to your friends, they're gone. A classroom full of empty desks, save for you and a few others.
If you're a teacher, you've thought about this when you have seen school violence in the US, for example... the lives you're helping shape, the families you have affected... broken and gone. You wonder what happened to them... and you find out. Ashes. The rest? Thrown into the river to hide evidence.
If you're a parent... last night your kid called you, "Hey, dad/mom, I'll have to call you later, the police is picking me up."
I'm a parent. Whenever I see news about school violence here, I freak out about the future of my son. I have a sister... and parents in Mexico. Cousins, uncles, aunts. I know, one day, I'll find out that someone they know has gone missing, if not something closer to home.
So what am I getting at? Once you get informed, once you decide that yes, that is shit you wouldn't want happening to you or those you love, do something simple. Create more awareness on your blogs, tumblrs, imgur, reddit, facebook, etc. It's a corruption that won't be gone until we all, Mexicans and The World put pressure on until we crush it. Make memes pointing out what's wrong with this and why we're all together as part of this same crazy-ass world and that we don't want that crap happening to our neighbors and friends any more than we want it happening to us.
Don't get in trouble, but make some trouble, as we can and peacefully, for those that need to be in trouble.
5 comments · 367 views
I wrote this little piece of sci-fi-thingy back in 2008... it still functions as a bit of a novel seed for me, don't know if I'll ever really go back to it. It's nothing too special, but I thought about it today and figured I'd share it here with you guys. It's just a curiosity, really.
“Time to wake up!”
Life frizzled into white existence once, then disappeared into darkness.
“Don’t you want to eat something before going to school? Wake up!”
Consciousness remained. Certain bits of information poured like green and red raindrops, flashing against the darkness; only to vanish in the unending abyss beyond his vision.
He couldn't move yet.
With pulsating slowness vision returned, still blurred, still pixelated on certain areas… but he could see as well as hear now.
He moved his eyes, roaming across the remains of the warehouse for possible enemies.
None, but he could see the result of his battle.
The warehouse floor was a sea of mist, waves crashing and flowing around the few concrete columns still standing. Sunlight streamed down from holes in the roof; it made him think of clouds letting light through for a second during a storm.
Clear sunlight highlighted swirling mist here and there, or reflected off the armored remains of his enemies.
The scrap carcass of an almost arachnid metal monstrosity, created either to fight in tournaments or for military use, had crumbled in the middle of the room.
Among the mist it reminded him of a ghost ship, like the ones in the old pirate novels he used to read when he was a boy.
He closed his eyes, but darkness was replaced by opaque windows of several colors, all of them detailing just how bad his situation was.
He ignored them, instead concentrating on sudden images that came to mind. The girl… had she been really a red-head? Had he been human then?
He opened his eyes and tried to move his neck. With a whirring protest, he positioned his head downwards, now able to asses the damage visually.
A steel pipe had run him through the stomach, and the remains of a wall had encased much of his shoulders and arms in the metal framework of the warehouse’s wall.
One of his legs was useless. Sparks and metal clicks came from within the joint when he tried to move it, but it remained in place.
He had once broken that same leg while playing football.
The other leg simply did not respond. One of the many windows in his internal vision was loading a bar labeled “Extremity Usage Percentage.”
He was singed and soot covered most of his otherwise black and red armor.
“Don’t worry we can get the stains off your uniform… you’ll see.” A smile. “It will be as good as new.”
His eyes noticed the oil accumulating on the tips of his left hand fingers, then falling down in a black drop into an equally dark puddle.
He had wailed and cried when he had cut his finger with paper a long time ago. His father had put down the mug of coffee and told him that it was alright, that the pain would disappear soon.
His father was dead now. His brother, his friends… the red-headed girl...
A green light on the periphery of his sight…
He experimentally closed and opened his right hand. Then the left.
“Now count with me using your fingers, one…” a voice echoed in his head. He tried to follow along with the sentence, but he couldn't. Speaking was not an imperative process for a machine. It could be delegated to follow other, more important, internal repairs.
“What do you want to be when you grow up? An astronaut? Fire-fighter?”
His functioning leg slowly dragged back, scratching the concrete floor with a metallic whine until it settled down, bent at the knee.
Static crackled inside his head. “… are you there?”
“Are you there?” The red-head climbed up the branches to where he hid, holding his knees against his chest. “What’s wrong?”
Rubble fell as his arm reached back, his hand opening to lay palm down against a large segment of concrete wall.
“Lie down, dear…” He couldn't remember her, just the voice. “The doctors say the cure will be available soon… you just need to sleep until… until then.”
Static again, then followed by another voice. “…are able… your signal… conscious? ...answer us? …on its way… help!”
“I’ll help you. I promise!” The red-head swore. He felt cold as more scientists poured ice over him. “I’ll find a cure…”
His right arm forced his malfunctioning leg into a similar position to the other one, then grabbed the jagged corner of the concrete wall.
“These people are responsible for her death.” The memory was clear in his databanks, or was it his mind? The voice mingled with the static-distorted words that reached his internal receiver. “We can’t cure you now, but there are other ways… it wont be the same… I’m sorry.”
The servos in his legs started working full force. One whirring, the other click-clacking in a mad tempo as it tried to perform a task it was not able to do. His arms tensed as his elbows bent then stretched, pulling him up. The metal pipe scratched inside him, setting off sparks and making him vibrate as it slid down the way it had come in, in a slightly different angle.
Warning lights flashed and flooded his vision.
“Why that model? It is designed for combat.”
He invoked a picture from his archives. It covered the warning lights; the mist rolling off the extremities of the destroyed robot-tank faded; the sight of his armored body spewing liquid and sparks disappeared.
She had long red hair, reaching past her shoulders. She was wearing a white lab coat, covering whatever clothes she wore underneath; she held a medical chart in one hand, the other rested on the top of a cylindrical tank, big enough for a small child.
She was thirty in this picture.
“We will do it, she asked us to give you whatever you wanted… but why? Please?”
The noise stopped, the lights died out and the image faded, leaving him staring at a group of people. Another red-headed woman stood before him. Her hair reached just above her shoulders.
Around him and around the remains of the robots, disturbing the mists as colossus wandering in the sea, were scientists and armed guards.
His vision blurred as his neck vibrated. She was doing something. When she finished another green light popped up for a moment.
“Why did you come alone? Why do you keep doing this?” The woman had tears in her eyes.
“I don’t know anymore,” He answered.