embedded technologies

So I’ve seen a lot of dystopian stories with “Everyone in the world except a few off the grid people get technology permanently embedded in them and then the world goes to hell” and like that’s cool and all, but there’s no way everyone would do that. Amish people wouldn’t. People in the orthodox Jewish community wouldn’t cause you can’t use tech on shabbos. I bet most Buddhist monks wouldn’t. Pretty much every religion has a group that can’t have 24/7 use of technology for one reason or another.

What I’m saying is dystopian worlds need much fewer motorcycle gangs and much more roaming bands of monks fighting zombies.

Wings: Part 2

Prompt: Since I loved Wings so much (I still love it what am I talking about?) could I request a Part 2 in which Reader’s sleeping habits gets worst and Jaime and Bart are trying their best to at least get Reader’s sleeping schedule a bit more normal? 

Part One

Requested by: @temperdragoness


    “This is getting ridiculous.”

    “Are you telling me it wasn’t ridiculous when we caught her napping under the sink?”

    “No, I’m saying it’s ridiculous that we are carrying her through the base, and SHE’S STILL ASLEEP!”

    Bart stares down at you, a small smile on his face, “She’s a weirdo, but she’s our weirdo.”

    Jaime just rolls his eyes, “Need I remind you that you can run faster than anyone alive, and I have alien technology embedded in my back?”

    Bart stares at his friend, “She was asleep on a treadmill, and it was STILL RUNNING! That’s strange, even by our standards.”

    Jaime just sighs, “Let’s get her through the zeta tube.”

    They walk through to the station to find your dad and brother on the other side. They stare at the two boys for just a minute before your father sticks out his fist and a green light comes out of his ring. He mutters something about things getting out of hand before he takes you to your room and lies you down on your bed.

    You wake up minutes later. It takes you only a few seconds to realize that you’re back in your room. You lie in the bed for a minute before getting up. You’d been spending less and less time in your room lately. You found your bed too soft, and the walls stifling.

You slip out into the hall to find your dad waiting for you. He’s in what your mom calls his general pose, “And where, young lady, do you think you’re going?”

You smile, “The rafters?”

“To do what?”

You wince, “To sleep.”

“You realize you have a bed, right?”

“It’s too soft, I can’t sleep on it.”

Your father sighs after a moment, “Should have figured this would happen. Lord knows I couldn’t sleep on a bed when I came back from my first tour. I think you need some time off.”

You blink owlishly at him, “Excuse me.”

He smiles, “Your body is on alert. You’re used to putting yourself at risk, and now your body wants to be prepared at all times. It feels vulnerable in a bed. The best medicine I can think of is time off. No missions, and only light training. That’s an order.”

You don’t talk to your dad for a week after that. And if he enters a room, you leave it. You spend most of your time at the mountain. You can at least fly there.

Bart and Jaime confront you after three days, when they find you sleeping in the shower. You’re hesitant to tell them what’s going on, especially after what happened with your dad. Of course, by now you should know to expect the unexpected with them.

“Seriously, that’s it?” Bart asks.

You nod, and he pulls you to your feet. He drags you down the hallways to his room, with Jaime following behind. Somehow you end up sandwiched in-between them, and to your surprise, you’re out within minutes.

Social construction of technology (also referred to as SCOT) is a theory within the field of Science and Technology Studies. Advocates of SCOT—that is, social constructivists—argue that technology does not determine human action, but that rather, human action shapes technology. They also argue that the ways a technology is used cannot be understood without understanding how that technology is embedded in its social context. SCOT is a response to technological determinism and is sometimes known as technological constructivism.
—  Wikipedia
S13 E14

I’M DYYING! MAINE! I can’t hold out hope anymore; they have a cause of death which means there IS a body and Maine is gone, truly without a hope gone. I hurt so much and so does my poor Mainewash heart because of this episode.

MAINE WASN’T THE META AFTER SEASON 6, BUT WASH STILL CALLED HIM THAT! HE HASN’T CALLED HIM MAINE SINCE PROJECT FREELANCER- NOOOOO!! *GROSS SOBBING*

If there’s a known cause of death, then I have no choice but to accept that Maine is dead, BUT please consider:

Maine died by drowning in icy waters and that would preserve his body until he was fished out. Cryopods are a thing in the Halo verse and dead bodies are generally put on ice to prevent them from rotting anyway, I’d imagine. Maine might not be recently deceased, but his body has been quite well-preserved since the time of his death, especially his brain because in the Halo verse, AIs are made from recently deceased brains (most AIs) or flash-cloned brains of living humans (Alpha [RvB] and Cortana [Halo] from Dr. Church and Dr. Halsey respectively) because the Cognitive Impression Modeling process that creates them destroys the brain.

Please consider that the Chairman has Maine’s armor and is looking for an AI to run all the enhancements. I didn’t think Santa was likely from the beginning and I think it’s even less likely now. I’m not even sure if Santa can be removed since he’s an alien AI embedded within the technology/temples all across the planet. Hargrove implied he had a way of obtaining an AI through legitimate means though progress was slow.

Please consider that the AI that Hargrove is working on acquiring is one created from Maine’s brain. Apparently, Maine post-E.M.P. sought power to fill the gaps left behind by the missing AIs, and that’s what Hargrove sees and thinks that would be the perfect type of AI to run such a heavily-enhanced armor.

Please consider that Locus gets his hands on Maine’s armor and now also has the Maine AI running the suit when Locus confronts Washington for probably the last time. Wash is shocked to see Maine’s armor and beyond furious that Locus dares to wear his lover’s armor, but that reaction is nothing compared to when the Maine AI materializes next to Locus and Wash completely loses his goddamn mind.

PLEASE CONSIDER THAT WHEN META-LOCUS IS DEFEATED (idk how, but i kinda want Carolina there for this) WASH KNEELS DOWN NEXT TO THE ARMOR AND DOESN’T SAY A WORD AS HE REMOVES THE AI FROM LOCUS, BUT THEN HE DOES THE UNTHINKABLE AND SLOTS THE MAINE AI INTO HIS OWN NEURAL IMPLANTS!

pLEASE CONSIDER THAT THOUGH THE CHAIRMAN SEES A POWER-HUNGRY MONSTER AS WHAT REMAINED OF MAINE FROM THE META AFTER SEASON 6, WASH INSTEAD SEES THE BROKEN EMPTY SHELL OF THE MAN HE LOVED, BUT HE HAS THEIR MEMORIES TOGETHER IN HIS HEAD AND WHEN MAINE ENTERS WASH’S MIND, HE TAKES IT ALL IN AND IT FILLS UP THE BROKEN-MAINE AI AND HIS HUNGER FOR POWER IS BROKEN BECAUSE HE’S FINALLY FIXED AND WASH IS CRYING BECAUSE MAINE IS BACK AND HE NEVER THOUGHT HE’D SEE HIM AGAIN AND HIS MEMORIES FINALLY DID SOMETHING GOOD FOR HIM FOR ONCE! ONCE AGAIN, MEMORY IS THE GODDAMN KEY!

i thought it was over too

Title: Suppression
Words: 3717
Notes: an extra afterwards or something. another sequel, even?! idk why i keep writing for this it’s such a trashy au. (first one-shot / prequel+sequel)
KotoUmi, NozoEli, and RinMaki mostly.
[CW for violence and stuff]

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Soulmate Clock: After Zero

(inspired by the “soulmate clock” concept that’s been floating around Tumblr, and the short stories people have subsequently written about it.)

It’s been years since my soulmate clock hit “0.” I remember exactly where I was, too. The middle of a grocery store, thumbing uselessly through bags of brown sugar and spices, patiently yet stupidly waiting for that Hollywood moment when my shoulder would receive that tap indicating he’d arrived for me at last. 

Three. Two. One.

Zero.

I spun as if thinking he’d be waiting to surprise me from behind with a clever smirk, flashing his depleted timer to match mine. The wait was over and the magic was ready to at last flourish in a frenzy of words, touches and kisses. But all I got was an old crone and her husband staring at me oddly.

“Excuse me, could I… please get some of that sugar there? You’ve been looking at it for the past ten minutes…”

“Oh… yeah. I guess.”

And that was that. The clock was a dud.

I have a habit of wearing long sleeve shirts now, because I’d rather not be looking at the flashing row of zeroes, mockingly staring me back in the eye. My friends think I’m crazy, especially during the summer seasons when it’s obvious that I’m sweating through the unnecessary layer of clothing. But none of it mattered to me. I wanted no reminder of it at all. Surrounding me were all my friends and loved ones, inexplicably finding their soulmates right to the moment their clocks hit zero, and yet I was the only idiot I knew whose clock was after zero, and yet there was nobody standing next to me to validate it.

Can you believe I’ve even tried going to supposed repair shops that try to fix or tweak these things? I was desperate enough to be scammed out of money to try and get mine fixed, only to have them all tell me in the end that mine was “just broken.”

Just broken. Okay. I can accept that, I guess.

I was sitting in a coffee shop one day in the middle of June, sipping an iced coffee and reading the paper when a figure approached me. I looked up and saw a man. The tall, dark and handsome type. But my cynicism quickly overlooked all of that and all I did was raise my eyebrow in a twitch of curiosity.

“Can I help you?” I asked, monotone. He smirked back.

“No, not really. It’s just… aren’t you hot?”

I sighed in quiet frustration. It was a somewhat normal occurrence now for people to ask this of me because of my obviously over-dressed attire for the weather. I should’ve been used to it by now, but it still annoyed me.

“No. I’m fine.” I replied flatly.

“Oh… alright. Mind if I sit with you?”

I reeled back a little, alarmed at his sudden interest to want to talk. Part of me wanted him to just leave me be. But the other part of me couldn’t resist his outward charm, and the fact that he had the nerve to simply walk up and ask to sit with me. So I bit.

“Yeah… sure, I guess.”

A month goes by, I returned regularly to this coffee shop. And sure enough, right as rain, he was there either waiting for me or arriving just a few minutes late, insisting on joining me. I was resistant at first, but I gradually warmed up to him. He was charming, he was sweet, he was cordial. He had the courage to break me down bit by bit, and I guess part of me liked that and that’s why I kept letting it happen.

I happened to glance at his wrist one day when he wasn’t paying attention. His clock appeared. And I couldn’t help reading what it said:

“0032d 04h 51m 7s”

He was going to meet his soulmate in a little over a month. Good for him, I guess. But I never asked him about it. Nor did we ever speak about the clocks. Nor did he even wonder why I always dressed the way I did. We talked about a lot, but those were subjects that never once came up. Maybe he thought I cut myself and had scars to cover up, and he was too embarrassed to ask? Regardless, he just… always wanted to talk. 

Before I knew it, we’d moved beyond the coffee shop, and into each other’s homes. Sometimes at his apartment, sometimes at mine. Usually, I had trust issues bringing strangers into my home, but something about him made me feel comfortable with allowing it. And again, all he ever wanted to do was talk. No sex, no scam, no games. Just two… friends, I guess, we were at this point.

“Do you always second-guess yourself?”

He asked me this out of the blue one evening while we drank coffee in his kitchen. And naturally, I was a little puzzled.

“… what?”

“Well…” He thumbed idly at his mug, “You always seem so sure of yourself. So confident. And yet, it also always seems like you start or end all your sentences with ‘I guess.’ I’m a little curious as to why.”

It never even occurred to me that I said it so much to a point that it was something worth pointing out as a strange quirk. It was just always something I said, albeit subconsciously. 

“I guess…” Whoops. Did it again.

“… as confident as I might seem, I’ve always had my doubts.”

My hands rubbed uncomfortably against each other. My thumb grazed over my sleeve, where I knew that right underneath it was my failed soulmate clock. Yes, I had my doubts. I might always have them. I had a fizzled out piece of technology lifelessly embedded on my wrist as proof. Life would always keep me guessing. Human nature, right?

It was about two in the morning that same night when I at last decided it was late and was ready to go home. 

“Time for me to head out, I guess…” I bit my tongue as those words escaped my mouth again, but he just chuckled. I pushed away my empty coffee mug, and he just smiled and nodded as he stood up, ready to walk me to the door.

It was strange, but he was so much more different than anyone I’d met before. His kindness, his generosity, his openness, his caring and loving nature without expecting a thing in return. Nothing but wanting to talk. It was like talking to someone I’d known all my life. If I didn’t know any better, it almost felt like I was falling for him. But his clock was still running. And he was going to meet his own soulmate soon. And mine had already run out. Much as I wanted to reach out to him, I couldn’t interfere with that.

I reached for the doorknob, about to open it, when he gently grabbed my hand. My heart throbbed once, and I spun around as if thinking he was going to pull some stupid stunt. And he did. Stupid idiot.

He pulled me in for one long, tender kiss.

I allowed myself to fall into it for only a moment, but I quickly pulled away in retaliation. The hand that was grasping mine was now reversed, and I defensively gripped his wrist. I caught sight of his clock then, and realized there were only 10 seconds left on it. 

I heard a faint, warped beep, and for a second, I thought it was coming from his clock. But I turned my wrist and yanked down the long sleeve covering the clock I hadn’t even dared to look at for a long time, and was shocked at what I saw: the numbers appeared glitched, and for a while, was unreadable. But he soon took my hand back in his. Before I knew it… my clock was reset again. Only this time, it didn’t read days, hours and minutes. Only seconds. Seven seconds.

I glanced at his. Seven seconds. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Zero.

One long beep. And my timer reached “0” again. Only this time, there was a timer next to mine that reached “0” at the exact same moment.

He kissed me again, but I didn’t fight back this time. And as tears welled at my eyes, years of hardened anger and callousness shattering, it was at that moment I understood.

He was my soulmate… I guess.

No. No guessing this time. I’d never felt so sure about something before in my life. I knew he was. 

My clock was never broken.

It just needed a little extra time.

'The 100': Alycia Debnam-Carey Reflects on "Passionate Response" to Season 3's Lexa Twist

During a conversation with The Hollywood Reporter at the PaleyFest panel for Fear the Walking Dead, Debnam-Carey addressed the reaction from The 100 fans and clarified her interpretation of Lexa’s death.

“I think it’s incredible to see such a passionate response,” she said. “I think it’s important for me to note that that decision was never made from a negative point of view; it was never an attempt to bait or to enflame a social issue. It was a creative choice and it didn’t come at the expense of thinking about a social issue — maybe it should have more. But I definitely want fans to think that the love for Lexa on the show and a collaboration that we’ve all made on that show has only come from a good place.”

“It’s a really important thing to note that it wasn’t in any way an attempt to aggravate a social situation,” she added.

Debnam-Carey parted ways with Lexa due to “other obligations in my personal life,” referring to her role as a series regular on Fear the Walking Dead, where she plays Alicia Clark — an ironic surname, given the actor’s connection to The 100’s protagonist, Clarke Griffin. But even if she had to leave the show, does Debnam-Carey think Lexa needed to die?

“I must say, I always — from experience when I watch TV shows and I see characters leave without a proper explanation or leave with not enough time, I get irritated,” she said. “I like it when there’s a clean-cut reason or a defining moment where they have to go. Whether that’s death or not, I think that’s subjective.”

However, she added, “I like Lexa going out with a bang in a way.”

Indeed, Lexa goes out with a literal bang, as well as a figurative one: her death comes paired with the game-changing revelation that each successive commander of the Grounders possesses a century-old computer chip, one with an artificial intelligence system that bonds with its human host. When Lexa speaks about feeling the souls of past commanders, she’s not speaking metaphorically; she actually has access to these people, thanks to the technology embedded in her neck.

Now that Lexa’s dead, will the next Commander of the 12 Clans feel Lexa’s presence? Better yet, is it possible that this twist allows for a future appearance from Lexa as a vision instigated by the A.L.I.E. 2.0 technology? It’s not impossible to see how such a twist could intertwine with the season’s City of Light story — an enigmatic virtual reality “without pain,” where deceased characters have appeared seemingly alive and well.

For her part, Debnam-Carey is tight-lipped about a return appearance to The 100: “I’ll let you find out,” is all she offers. But perhaps there’s reason to hope fans of the show and Commander Lexa may meet again. (x)