will i get in trouble for not being able to work if i need to call in? (before 90 days)
I took a fall on Saturday and notified supervisors ASAP steward helped, ended my shift didn’t go in to Amazon Sunday (couldn’t walk up stairs) called in yesterday still injured I’m here today but was sent to a new station they know my situation but I can’t walk up stairs leading with my left leg only right doctors appointment was made

Union of Journeymen Tailors Found Guilty (1836)
On this day in 1836, 27,000 people gathered at New York City Hall Park to protest a verdict against the Union Society of Journeymen Tailors for a "conspiracy to injure trade", a result which undermined the legality of trade unions. In the early 19th century United States, the legality of trade unions was frequently called into question. Some courts called them "conspiracies to restrain trade", and therefore illegal.
In 1836, twenty-five members of the Union Society of Journeymen Tailors were found guilty of "conspiracy to injure trade, riot, assault, and battery" in the state of New York. On June 6th, 27,000 people gathered in City Hall Park to protest the court decision.
A radical pamphlet circulated, titled "The Rich Against the Poor", denouncing the judge who issued the decision as a "tool of aristocracy". The protesters established a "Committee of Correspondence" that comprised of people working in trades, which went on to found the working class Equal Rights party.
Read more:
https://www.historyisaweapon.com/defcon1/zinnother10.html
https://books.google.com/books?id=ipw1joa9xMoC&pg=PA324&lpg=PA324&dq=judge+edwards+tool+of+aristocracy&source=bl&ots=nBZtPHzrD4&sig=ACfU3U3PnRA5HTG-kVWu839Mlrf70pwo2Q&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi7rfqb-K_qAhWFU80KHYg3AVgQ6AEwAHoECAcQAQ#v=onepage&q=judge%20edwards%20tool%20of%20aristocracy&f=false

Dear members of our community, I suggest you familiarize yourself with some very instructive examples of the disclosure of infidelity by redditors.
Please pay attention to the successful methods and tools that helped the victims of cheaters in the disclosure of affairs (I specifically emphasized them in the text). It is interesting to note that quite often such extraordinary ways of determining the truth are used as interviewing children and obtaining information from notebooks (diaries).
Ok_Insurance_3011
SHE DIDN’T REALISE THAT HER IPHONE MESSAGES WERE ALSO SYNCHRONISED TO HER MAC, WHICH I WAS USING TO STREAM MOVIES ON.
I SAW TEXT POPPING UP WITH HER WRITING TO HER EX about how she loved taking his load on her face. I just packed up my shit and left
Character_Moment_689
HE APPARENTLY WROTE AN ADDRESS WRONG AND THE LOVE LETTER HE WROTE WAS RETURNED TO OUR HOME.
It was a great way to come back from vacation.
PumaRevived
·One of her friends was a photographer and wanted to do 'tasteful nudes' which apparently includes penetration! And multiple days of getting the right shot...
WE HAD A SHARED GOOGLE DRIVE, WHICH HER FRIEND DIDN'T KNOW WE SHARED.
forcekin69
SHE DEMANDED TO READ ALL THE MESSAGES ON MY PHONE, I SAID NO PROBLEM BUT ONLY IF I COULD READ THE MESSAGES ON HERS.
SHE HAD FORGOTTEN TO DELETE A MESSAGE FROM A GUY saying "All we ever do is fuck, can't we hang out some time?"
beerdybeer
MY 9 YEAR OLD SON TOLD ME THAT THERE WERE STRANGE MEN IN THE HOUSE WHEN I WAS AWAY WORKING. She'd been at it for years.
andromeadus
... my ex’s step dad found out through FB messenger because his phone broke and was using her phone at the time (we were in high school). THEY HAD THIS JANK OLD PHONE WITH NO CELL SERVICE THAT SHE USED TO TALK TO ME(AND THE OTHER FUCKER) AND SINCE IT WASN’T HOOKED UP, SHE HAD TO USE FB MESSENGER TO TALK TO US. HE WAS GETTING PINGS ON HIS PHONE FROM THEM TALKING.
LemeSayDis
Wife (soon to be ex) was in rehab and started fucking someone. She got out and told me she was going to a meeting. Suddenly, I REMEMBERED I COULD TRACK HER CAR CAUSE I PAY FOR THE LEXUS ENFORM APP. SHE WAS AT A HOTEL.
1plus1equals8
Came home off a deployment. Now (ex)Wife was acting really weird but I figured it was because I had been gone for a year and everything was just taking time to get reaquainted. About 3 days after I returned I HAD A NOTICE FROM MY UNIT STATING MY VEHICLE HAD 3 TICKETS AT ANOTHER BASE (WE WERE IN GERMANY) A FEW HOURS AWAY IN THE PAST FEW MONTHS. WHEN I WENT IN TO FIND OUT WHAT THE DEAL WAS ALL 3 HAD PHOTOS ATTACHED TO THEM FOR SPEEDING THROUGH A CHECKPOINT. ALL 3 HAD MY WIFE AND SOME OTHER GUY. SHE WAS KISSING HIM IN THE 3RD PIC..HE WAS DRIVING MY CAR.
Huge_Helicopter
I had just gotten home for 3 weeks summer holidays. I hadn't been home or seen my wife for a few weeks so I was excited to get home. It was on the Saturday night and I could sense she was awake into the small hours on her phone. I never thought anything of it as I'd never had a reason to not trust her.
At 4.30am she got up out of bed and said she was going to pick her brother up from a party. Covid lockdown had just ended so everyone was partying. We have 2 young kids so we didn't go out. SHE COMES HOME JUST OVER AN HOUR LATER AND JUMPS INTO BED WEARING SEXY UNDERWEAR, WHICH WAS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT SHE WENT TO BED WEARING (MARRIED MEN WILL UNDERSTAND!).
I woke up with the kids at 7 and the whole situation didn't sit right with me. I TOOK THE DASH CAM FOOTAGE FROM THE CAR AND LOADED IT ONTO THE COMPUTER. THERE IT WAS, CLEAR AS DAY, SOME DUDE WHO DID NOT LOOK LIKE HER BROTHER AT ALL WAS THANKFUL SHE CAME TO PICK HIM UP AND THEY FLIRTED IN THE CAR FOR A BIT BEFORE DROPPING HIM OFF AT HIS HOUSE.
It was difficult to watch but when I confronted her she broke down and confessed. 2 weeks later and the car was sold, 6 weeks after that the house was sold, a year later and were divorced.
It was a tough point of my life but THANK GOD FOR THAT DASHCAM! SAVED ME WASTING MORE TIME OF MY LIFE with a woman that didn't value me as much as I valued her! I've now moved on with an absolutely fantastic woman and I have my life back (but better!)
Rooster1984
My ex was having a long term affair that I knew for sure was going on but she would not own up to anything. KEYKOGGERS, HOME CAMERAS, AND ONE GPS TRACKER LATER I CAUGHT THEM IN THE FAMILY MINIVAN IN A PARKING LOT - RED HANDED. FOUND ALL THE LOVE LETTERS NEXT DETAILING THEIR PLANS TO BOTH LEAVE THEIR SPOUSES AND MOVE IN. He backed out of the deal and I’ve moved on after I told his wife what was going on. Lots of fun.
Definition_Far
THE HONDA APP ON YOUR CARS SCREEN GIVES YOU A MOST RECENTLY VISITED PLACE OVERVIEW THAT CONNECTS TO YOUR GOOGLE. I WENT AWAY FOR BASIC AND AIT, AND AT THE END OF BASIC TRAINING, WHEN WE GOT OUR PHONES BACK FOR AN EXTENDED TIME, IT GAVE ME THE MOST VISITED PLACES. IT WAS ANOTHER APARTMENT COMPLEX I DIDN'T RECOGNIZE, BUT GOOGLE MAPS HAD A PICTURE OF HIS CAR THERE. He had emotionally cheated before, so I kinda knew because none of friends had mentioned living there and it would be a got there at 7 or 8pm and then leaving for his classes in the morning for school without going back to our apartment 2x a week.
GOOGLE STILL TRACKS YOU EVEN IF YOU DONT USE GOOGLE MAPS TO GET THERE.
TeacherMan78
I was clearing internet history/personal data off my work laptop before I turned it in as I was leaving for a new job. I REMEMBERED THAT MY NOW EX-WIFE HAD USED MY LAPTOP FOR SOME FREELANCE WORK, SO I WENT IN AND CLEARED OUT THE INFORMATION ON HER GOOGLE PROFILE AS WELL. UNBEKNOWNST TO HER, GOOGLE PROFILES TRACK DATA ACROSS ANY DEVICE YOU USE. THAT’S HOW I FOUND OUT MY EX-WIFE WAS MOONLIGHTING AS A CAM GIRL while I was working.
JanuarySoCold
They used to keep a NOTEBOOK by the window to record the different kinds of birds at the feeder with date and time. THE ENTRIES WERE ALL MY HANDWRITING AND HIS. THEN THERE WAS A ENTRY IN A DIFFERENT STYLE WRITTEN AT SUNRISE ON A DATE THAT I WASN'T THERE.
BrianofMadison
I was showing someone how to use GOOGLE EARTH. I ZOOMED UP ON MY CONDO AND THEY HAD JUST UPDATED THE PICTURE. THERE BEHIND MY GARAGE WAS THE CRAPPY YELLOW PICKUP TRUCK BELONGING TO THE CONTRACTOR WHOSE SERVICES WE HADN'T USED FOR MONTHS. WHEN I ASKED HER WHATEVER HAPPENED TO "THAT CONTRACTOR WHO WAS INTERESTED IN HER" SHE SAID SHE HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT AND WHAT WOULD BRING THAT UP. SO I SHOWED HER GOOGLE EARTH.
Jeremy-Presley13
Long story short SHE GAVE ME HER OLD PHONE BECAUSE MINE BROKE. I DOWNLOADED A RECOVERY SOFTWARE AND SAW ALL THE TEXT SHE WAS GETTING FROM ANOTHER GUY SHE MET.
swimmersean
We had a SHARED GOOGLE PHOTO DRIVE THAT UPLOADED ALL OF THE PHOTOS WE TOOK. BEING AN IPHONE USER SHE FORGOT THAT IT DID IT AUTOMATICALLY.
She was taking selfies and then nudes that she didn't end up sending to me.
shaqdeezl
KEY-LOGGING SOFTWARE. I COULDN’T AFFORD THE FULL VERSION. BUT THE FREE VERSION TOLD ME ENOUGH.
But I didn’t learn the REAL cheating story until much, much later in life.
beakrake
Went down on her and was pretty sure I could taste condom.
TOOK A PEEK IN HER DIARY THE NEXT DAY, BECAUSE I HAD TO KNOW FOR CERTAIN, AND SURE ENOUGH - SHE'D THOROUGHLY DOCUMENTED ALL 7 GUYS SHE'D CHEATED ON ME WITH.
_Stole_My_Ex_Pantie
INSTALLED AN APP ON MY PHONE TO SEE DELETED TEXTS. IT WORKED. (2011-2013) SHE CAME HOME DRUNK ONE NIGHT, AND I DID THE GOOD BOYFRIEND THING AND GOT HER INTO BED, THEN IT WAS TIME. INSTALLED THE APP ON HER PHONE AND THERE THEY WERE. NUDE PICKS. TALKS OF MEETING UP AND TALKS OF HOW GOOD SHE WAS. LEFT THAT ON HER SCREEN AND STARTED PACKING. She woke up and asked what I was doing. I told her that her phone had the answers, and kept packing. She took a peek and all the color drained from her face. Then proceeded to football tackle me on the bed and started crying on me begging for me to stay. The tears of a cheater are bitter and I wanted nothing to do with them. (If your gonna cheat, just break up, the relationship is ruined at this point)
EntrepreneurWaste241
CONDOM WENT MISSING, even though we weren't having sex at the time. When I asked my wife about it she claimed that she had used it on herself to simulate real sex.
A WEEK LATER SHE WENT ON BIRTH CONTROL CLAIMING IT WAS TO CONTROL HER APPETITE.
THEN SHE STARTED GETTING EXPENSIVE PRESENTS THAT SHE CLAIMED HER PARENTS HAD BOUGHT HER.
THEN STARTED BUYING NEW UNDERWEAR TO TAKE ON WORK TRIPS THAT IS ONLY DESIGNED FOR THE BEDROOM. SHE CLAIMED THAT SHE WORE IT FOR CONFIDENCE WHILST IN MEETINGS.
Needless to say she was a shitty liar and it was obvious from day 1. I had to stick it out for about a month as I didn't have the money to leave our house straight away and we had a very young son, but I got out as soon as I could.
Final twist, she then demanded I continue paying for everything, the house, her lifestyle and more and stopped all visitation with my son for 6 months when she didn't get her way. Not a very nice person!
Sweetdeeknowsnothing
When the idiot WROTE HIS TRANSGRESSIONS IN A NOTEBOOK THAT WAS SITTING OUT IN THE LIVING ROOM, AND I WENT TO GET A PAGE OUT OF IT FOR HIS KIDS TO WRITE/DRAW ON. HE EVEN TITLED THE ENTRY AND EVERYTHING, HIS HANDWRITING WAS BARELY LEGIBLE BUT I UNDERSTOOD ENOUGH.
It was the first experience of being cheated on and it felt like a punch in the gut. I think I actually didn’t take a breath till I was done reading it.

My wife and I visited Sydney last weekend and had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Really had no idea where would be the best place to stay or visit but just thought I’d share our experience for anyone who might be unsure about how to plan their own trip to Sydney, especially overseas visitors unfamiliar with Sydney, because I think we made/fluked some good choices. While not an exhaustive list by any means, it is of places I would thoroughly recommend and probably visit again. We are 55 yo. from Melbourne, and have only visited Sydney very briefly in the past concentrating mainly around Circular Quay, Darling Harbour, Manly, Opera House, Harbour Bridge, so previously not really experienced everything Sydney has to offer. All times below are walking distance from our hotel.
Accommodation: Sydney Boulevard Hotel (90 William St) Great central location. Very reasonable price ($240/night). 12 minutes to two stations (Museum, St James), Woolloomooloo, Darlinghurst, Royal Botanical Gardens. 21 minutes to Darling Harbour, 24 minutes to Circular Quay.
Breakfast: Industry Beans (York St. 17 minutes) and The Rusty Rabbit (Forbes St, Darlinghurst. 12 minutes). Also considered Quick Brown Fox Eatery (Pyrmont) and Parlour (next to the foyer of the State Theatre, Market St). Will definitely visit next trip.
Lunch: Harry’s Cafe de Wheels. Always knew of the history, just had to experience it since we stumbled across it while exploring Finger Wharf.
Dinner: Rekodo (Bangaroo House. 21 minutes) and Aster (Rooftop of InterContinental Sydney Hotel, stunning views from the 32nd floor looking north over Sydney Harbour. 21 minutes).
Drinks: Smoke (Bangaroo House. 21 minutes) and Slims (Rooftop, Hyde Park House. 2 minutes)
Some different interesting places visited: Finger Wharf, Anzac Memorial, Hyde Park, Carriageworks, Queen Victoria Building, University of Sydney quadrangle.
Hope someone finds this information useful for their trip to this beautiful city. Feel free to comment and suggest any improvements for our next trip.

[14M]Just hanging around. It's summer break and I'm just watching YouTube and Netflix. Always happy to meet new friends. Age, m,f or whatever. I don't care. Just bring good vibes and let's hang out awhile. I really enjoy Parks And Rec, Stranger Things, and Starwars. See ya in the DMs.

This guest post by SHRIMOYEE NANDINI GHOSH is based on two essays about the men and women of Kunan Poshpora, that appeared in the Kashmir Reader dated 1 September 2013, and 13 January 2014.

Beneath the horrors of the mass rape committed by Indian troops in the twin villages that night in February 1991, lies the untold story of systematic torture of men, carried out by the same forces with the precision and deliberation of a planned military operation.
In June 2013, a Public Interest Litigation filed in the Jammu and Kashmir High Court, by fifty Srinagar based women, supported by human rights group Jammu and Kashmir Coalition of Civil society (JKCCS) had resulted in a Magisterial order for the further investigations of the mass and gang rape by Indian army personnel of the women of Kunan, and neighbouring hamlet Poshpora, in Kupwara District of North Kashmir on the night of February 23rd-24th 1991. The police, it appears from the lack of any remotely investigative activities in the villages to have done little if anything, by way of following the court order in the last six months. On 14 September, 2013 they asked for and were granted an additional three months time for further investigations, without notice to the survivors who are legally represented in the case.
However, the closure report, which police had failed to file for twenty – two years, and which had been presented before the Magistrate of Kupwara just weeks before the Public Interest Litigation, in March 2013, had yielded several important previously unavailable official documents. These included a hand drawn police map, a nominal roll of 125 army personnel (including several officers) who were admittedly part of the operation and in Kunan-Poshpora that night, statements from victims, witnesses and army men mentioning specific locations, times and incidents, and the official medical reports of some of the rape victims. JKCCS had decided after some deliberation that if the police did not appear to be doing any investigations, they would themselves, aided by the new documents, attempt to rescue from oblivion the events of that night. Over the last three months, they have been engaged in a process of interviewing villagers, explaining to them what the police papers say, seeking clarifications, and attempting to piece together as coherent a narrative as possible given the constraints of resources, the lapses of memory, the reticence of rage, grief and repeated recounting, and the deaths of crucial witnesses. On 24th August 2013, I accompanied a team of human rights lawyers and researchers from JKCCS to the village of Kunan, on one of their visits. I was told that their interviews with those of the women who wished to speak was almost complete, and the day’s planned interviews were mostly with men from the village. Previous conversations, as well as police statements showed that interrogation centres had been set up in the village during the operation, and witnesses referred to extreme and extensive torture of men, but this was not specifically recorded in the First Information Report, and formed no part of the official list of crimes that occurred that night, which consists of rape, house trespass and illegal confinement.
As in the police documents, Kunan Poshpora has become inscribed as a story of rape in Kashmir’s public memory. But something else also happened that night. A crime so commonplace in that age of cordons and crackdowns that even the men who were its victims, barely thought to mention it, attending instead like the rest of us to the outrage of the raped women. As Ahmad Ameen put it, ‘They let us go home after the crackdown, in the morning at about 9 am.’ [Some men were bleeding; others were barely conscious and had to be carried. One man told us he crawled home on all fours].‘That’s when we realised what had happened. What they had done in every house. Then all hell broke lose.’ Several of the men were somewhat laconic when the interviews began. ‘Joh karte hai, wahi kiya’, Rahim Dar said. ‘They did what they do.’ And indeed they had– with wood, water, electricity–those universal implements for the infliction of finely calibrated pain. JKCCS believes on the basis of preliminary conversations that between hundred to a hundred and twenty men from the two villages were tortured that night. A total of twelve men were interviewed during the course of the day I visited, by three teams of researchers. I think it was after the fourth time I heard mention of medical treatments for sexual dysfunction, that the true irony of the ‘emasculation’ metaphors that are so abundant in talk about the Kunan-Poshpora rapes dawned on me. What I often dismiss as misplaced patriarchal indignation had been repeatedly made flesh that night. ‘Oh! Come on’ I want to say aloud, every time I hear or read the words ‘rape’ ‘our women’ and ‘impotency’ in close proximity–‘It’s NOT about you!’, but this time it was. And it involved wires, needles and a portable DC battery.
A kind of unmooring from the realms of human language has characterised the description of the Kunan Poshpora rapes. District Magistrate S.M Yasin’s report speaks of being unable to put down in ‘black and white’ the acts committed by the ‘beasts’ for instance, and the rape survivors themselves talk of the chaos of a toofaan, of foul smelling shaitaans apparating through their black-outs and disassociated states as they lay in the dark . But, as I listened to the men, ranging in age from 90-year-old Lal Dar (68 at the time of the torture) to 40 year old Manzoor (18 in 1991) their torture seemed to bear a somewhat different relationship to language and the world. What happened to them was nailed to a scaffolding of banal bureaucratic and military terms—interrogation, information, identification, search, cordon, crackdown—and tethered to mundane physical objects and familiar places–-buckets, logs and planks of wood, helmets, torchlights, batteries, wood sheds, barns, streams and trees. As the men spoke I began to picture that night, not as an endless orgy of a horde of rampaging beasts, but as a quiet and efficient military operation, carried out by trained men. Four companies of men from the 4th Rajputana Rifles, 68th Mountain Brigade commanded by a Colonel K.S. Dalal, in fact, as the army itself admits in police statements. Alpha and Delta Companies were deployed in the outer cordon, Bravo and Charlie in the search and interrogation. While teams of ten to twenty soldiers, sometimes headed by an officer who they were heard referring to as ‘Sir’, went on a systematic house to house search, rooting men out of their beds, demanding to be taken immediately to militants or hidden weapons, strip searching them and burying them in the snow, their comrades were otherwise engaged. Most of the commissioned officers were deployed at the ‘interrogation centres’ according to the army. Two kuthars (large barn like outbuildings for storing grain, fodder and cattle) within yards of each other, belonging to Asad Dar and the village numberdar (revenue official) Aziz Shah, and Abli Dar’s home, on the main lane of Kunan’s maze of winding alleys, were quickly commandeered and their lofts or rooms converted into make shift ‘interrogation centers’, while their compounds formed a holding space for the men. All three were provided with the same basic equipment – a bench fashioned out of planks of wood, a large wooden log, a bucket of chilli water, a couple of wires connected to a radio battery forming a crude live-circuit, assorted sticks and ropes, a few chairs, and somewhere to suspend the men from–but adaptations were made according to available resources and geography. For instance, in Asad Dar’s yard through which the village stream ran, repeated dunking in its icy depths formed part of the standard procedure. At two of the compounds, Aziz Shah’s and Abli Dar’s where firewood was stored in the wood-shed a bonfire was lit, around which parka-clad soldiers chatted and drank, and villagers recovered from their water treatments. At Asad Dar’s kuthar a tall, fair and somewhat chubby faced officer sat on a chair before a wireless set, giving orders and flashing his torchlight. Downstairs, in all three yards, men squatted or stood in the snow waiting for their possible turns on the equipment. Occasionally when they went up, they saw a neighbour or brother who was before them in line, slumped on the floor at the head of the stairs. Some like Salim Dar, whose brother was a surrendered militant, paid a visit to two of the three centers. He still walks on crutches as a result.
The village of Kunan has changed in twenty-two years. It is no longer ‘the huddle of thatched and wooden houses’ that journalists described in 1991 (‘Indian Villagers Tell of Mass Rape by Soldiers’, The Independent, March 19, 1991). Buildings have been torn down, and rebuilt in brick, cement and tin. The chashma (natural spring) that emerged from the earth behind Aziz Shah’s kuthar has dried up, and only a muddy depression now marks the spot. Ghulam Afzal walked with us around the hamlet amidst squawking chickens and curious children, pointing out the sights– ‘this is where the Abli Dar’s old kuthar stood, that there- is his new house…this is the wood shed in which I hid, this is the nallah along which Naba ran, this used to all be clear ground then…’ For some reason, seeing those buildings brought home to me an intimation of what it was like to be a man from Kunan-Poshpora on that night, in a way even their words hadn’t.
What was it like, I found myself imagining, to be squatting in your own snowy barn yard, drowning in your tin bucket, broken and blubbering on your hard granary floor, blinded by chillies from your own store? And then all the hypotheticals began, as my mind ran on and on. How did it feel I wondered to hear the sounds coming from the village? Yah Khudaiyo! Yah Khudaiyo! Could you hear them over the sounds of the interrogation? Pakistan, Militants, Samaan, Information, Bol Saala! Could you hear them over the groans of your neighbours? Could you hear them over your own yells? Which was worse–to definitely identify the scream of a loved one, or merely contemplate if it was them, through the fog of your insensibility? What was it like to be told you could leave in the morning, to be given painkillers by the army doctor, (Capt. Dr Shyam Sundar accompanied the unit according to his own police statement), to come home and realise what had seemed so far like a recurring nightmare—another crackdown, agonising but vaguely familiar –had been another kind of visitation altogether? And then, to unable to leave or get help for two days, because of the army siege around the village? To have no family or neighbours to turn to, because everyone you knew, was in precisely the same state as you? What kind of courage did it take to be Abdullah the compounder, from neighbouring Trehgam who snuck into the village using the back route through Chopan Mohalla, to deliver what analgesics and first-aid he could knowing it to be hopelessly inadequate? Or most unimaginably of all, to be Abdul Wani. To return from an over night business trip to Srinagar and find your front door broken, your two sons in bed electrocuted, your wife and three daughters raped, and your family’s barn turned into the village torture chamber? How does one live with such knowledge? And having held one’s peace for twenty two years, how does one begin to tell a stranger with a note book, not about what was done to the women, not about what was done to the never to be named teenaged girls, but what was done to you, to your own aging and scarred body, all those many years ago?
That night is full of other kinds of silences, not as innocent but just as tortured. What can one say of Abdul Ghani, the police constable who was related to several families in the village who accompanied the soldiers on their rounds, and signed a ‘No Objection Certificate’ (NOC) the next morning stating that the villagers had no complaints? He appears in many accounts like some kind of will o’ the wisp with a torch light— relaying messages between houses and family members; accompanying one man back to his home to fetch more firewood, allowing him to peep in through the windows and see his wife on the kitchen floor but not to enter; giving water to a woman with a broken spine; getting locked in a cow shed for remonstrating with soldiers; carrying a cousin home on his back in the morning, weeping as he related what he had witnessed. How do we begin to disentangle the betrayal, the subversion, the unlooked for kindness of it all? Constable Abdul Ghani Dar’s statement of what he heard, saw, and did that night, would have formed a crucial part of the prosecution evidence, if the case ever comes to be tried in a court of law. But ‘unidentified gunmen’ murdered Abdul Ghani in his bed in 1993, pumping thirty bullets into his gut, rendering his words hearsay, and obliterating them from the legal record.
Several other critical eyewitnesses have died in twenty two years, including Sharif-ud-din Sheikh who led the fight to get the police report registered and the case heard in the State Human Rights Commission. Some have died as a result of their rape or torture that night, others from age, bullets or disease. By some estimates from villagers, fifteen of the rape survivors have had hysterectomies. Along the way I lost count of the many other surgeries, unsuccessful treatments, chronic aches, intolerable pains and nameless ailments I heard described. One, however stood out. Lal Dar, whose knee was shattered by a rifle-butt early in the proceedings, and who spent most of the night sprawled in the snow outside his home watching the comings and goings of the men, said that he subsequently had two surgeries, the second to remove his knee cap. He said he could not bend his left leg any longer. He finds it hard to pray.

A Meeting in the Park
Impressions and reflections on meeting the survivors of the mass rape at Kunan Poshpora, at the Sher- e-Kashmir Park in Srinagar on Human Rights Day, 2013

It came as a surprise. I don’t think any one, even amongst the organisers of the event at Sher- e Kashmir Park, on December 10th, had expected that women from the two villages would come. It was assumed that the survivors would be represented by members of the Village Committee, elderly men folk from Kunan and Poshpora, themselves survivors of the mass torture that took place on the night of February 23rd-24th, 1991. But the women had come, almost thirty of them. They had arrived in Srinagar by Matador van, leaving their homes in Kunan and Poshpora at seven in the morning, when the frost was still hard on their windows. I had met some of them before, but it was different seeing them here in Srinagar. I couldn’t remember all their names; their biographies had come detached from their faces. Many of them hugged me.
I remembered S. though, one of the more outspoken survivors I had met— her sharp, twinkly eyes behind thick, black rimmed granny glasses, her wide smile full of crooked teeth, in a face wrinkled and brown like a walnut. We had met at Kunan, in August 2013, when I accompanied a legal research team, from Jammu and Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society (JKCCS) who was representing them in their recently renewed litigation against the Indian army. She had spoken fiercely about the injustice of it all; the many outrages that she read about everyday in the papers, her desire to see such criminals behind bars for life. Her anger was loud and visceral. But when it came to the actual events of that night, she had refused to answer any questions. She had a terrible headache, she said. She could not wait, she had blood pressure, she was dizzy—she had to leave, she always felt like this when she thought of that night, she would not talk to us anymore. It was the only interview that had to be abandoned half way. Today, she was complaining about the long journey, ‘bumping-bumping-bumping all the way.’ ‘We should have come by Sumo’, she grumbled. But, it seemed to me that despite this, she couldn’t quite mask her delight at being out in the sunshine. In the open, amidst the falling leaves, outside the shadows of their men folk, their kitchens, their village, the women grew garrulous. S. told me of her daughters, one married to a doctor, the other working at the Social Welfare Department. At one point, Gul Fatima, from the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons, wife to a disappeared man, came over to the group of Kunan Poshpora’s women. ‘Where are you from?’ she asked them. ‘From Kupwara’ S. replied, naming the district. Then, a shadow seemed to cross her face. ‘Kunan – Poshpora’ she said. We’re here from Kunan Poshpora.’
Many of the women from Kunan Poshpora, did not wish to be photographed. The cameras made them uneasy. Some of their children, and grand children they said, did not know their stories. They huddled together and covered their faces with scarves, but the photographers persisted. It felt undignified– cringing behind shawls, cowering under ‘We Demand Justice for Kunan Poshpora’ posters, being asked to join the circle and sit in the appropriate place like an errant schoolgirl, when one had wandered away to avoid the cameras. In 2004, Manipuri women activists protesting the rape and killing of Thangjam Manorama had shocked us by their dramatic inversion of the figure of the cowering and shamed raped woman. Stark naked, they had stood in front of the Assam Rifles Base at Imphal, holding a banner that read ‘Indian Army Rape Us’. The photograph had made headlines across the world. I thought of it as I pleaded with a particularly intrusive photographer on behalf of the women to ‘please respect their privacy’. At this, he turned around and asked me, ‘Why have they been asked to come here, then?’ .I didn’t really have a good answer. It is true. We do need them. We want to have their pictures. We want to put faces to their tragedies, to commemorate their losses and violations. We need them to remind us that we remember, that we have not lost the battle against forgetting yet.
After I got home, the women of Kunan Poshpora, and their attitude to the news-cameras, made me think of a question. Would the agitations against the Shopian rapes in 2009, have been so angry, so volatile, so strong, if Asiya and Neelofar had lived? If they had survived, would we have heard of them at all? And if we had, what particular stories would we hear? Perhaps their rapes would have been covered up, as so many have been in the villages of Kunan and Poshpora, in the name of marriages, families, reputations, futures, for the sake of preserving innocence. A raped dead body makes for an uncomplicated heroine– worthy of both victimhood, and martyrdom. But a living rape survivor is a different being altogether. Her speech and her silences are more fraught. The women of Kunan Poshpora have been voices, not victims through these twenty three years. They have spoken back to the forces of occupation, before media crews, independent fact finders, the police, the state human rights commission and the courts of law. But, they constantly remind us– by covering up before our cameras, by getting dizzy, by blanking out, by her reticence before our questions, that we are all incriminated in her secret yet public shame.

https://kafila.online/2014/01/20/kunan-poshpora-the-other-story-shrimoyee-nandini-ghosh/

I am new to running and would like to run with some folks. I am not looking to socialize or anything, i think it's just nice to be able to run and listen to nature and run at a specific pace with other beginners.
I'm a block from prospect park so looking for something in Brooklyn. a google search yielded a lot of diff results but curious which is the best resource to find active groups.
thank you

Im not talking about cross trading between platforms, I know that’s impossible, I’m merely asking if there is an easy way to sell them on one platform and buy them on another
I used to play 76 on PlayStation and now I’ve went over to Xbox and left all of my items on PlayStation. Is there any possible way that I can bring them over through trading? Does this kind of trade between platforms even exist?
I know it’s a long shot that could only be possible if I find someone who’s moving over to PlayStation the way I did to Xbox but I’m just wondering if there’s an easy way to do it or if it’s going to be too difficult.
Im not after trading 1:1 for the items or getting the most value out of it, I don’t mind underselling what I have if I can get something from it on my new platform

Hi am new Stellaris player, I been playing with Ai and currently am fighting against AI with all level 3 Railgun’s on all his ship destroyer and corvettes . I did some research , and decided to design my own ships , I when with missal corvette and destroyer with Red laser, as AI put a lot of amor in his ships and ignore shields.
I declare war and fought his station. I lost badly, I my two fleet lost around 37 covert against his station which had all railgun. I don’t understand why. I watch YouTube video and they all said middle and torpedo are best for corvettes and destroyer. Why did I lost like half my entire fleet to a single station.
I just want to know how to counter railguns and amor focus ships.

I think it is time for EV owners to reach out to potential charging installers. Here is my list of established businesses that could benefit from adding chargers.

• Waffle House - Seems like a no-brainer. Many locations near highway exits and a ready supply of customers who naturally would use charging as a meal stop. Maybe it could also bring ICE and EV owners together and foster a change of attitude among the charger ICEers.
• Quick Trip - We all know that QT (like other stations) values the inside business far more than the gas sales. They also tend to have much bigger parking lots than other brands. They already have many food options so they can server as a meal stop as well.

Walmart has already announced their intent to build their own charging network. While there are many WM haters out there (and probably more among the EV world) there is no company better suited to take on this challenge. They have many stores in smaller towns that would fill gaps in the charging network, huge parking areas that can hold a larger station and if they build their own network they might be more inclined to keep them working.
If EV owners start voicing their support to potential corporate headquarters, then they might just listen. Don't just raise it as a green initiative, be sure to mention the potential profit of increased (and fairly long) visits by customers.

First Previous
Memory Transcription Subject: Vichak, venlil school principal
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-23
I told my vice principal that I didn't come to this predator planet for a vacation, so I need some knowledge or study results to bring home. Johan, my possible future brother-in-law, suggested that I could perhaps observe a human school. Keristian, the human coordinator for the refugee apartment, assured me that he had contacted an elementary school and came up with a schedule. For now, he told me to familiarize myself with the amenities in the apartment.
Besides their blocky design, human apartments had the same general functions as venlil ones. The staff provided us with a stepping stool to account for the larger dimension of the furniture, but other than that it has all that we needed.
Well... we could use a full-body dryer.
I found some alien features too in the apartment, such as the artificial pond, which humans use for recreation. They call this activity 'swimming', something that translates into "moving in water". Their First Contact package insisted that they came from arboreal lineage. Yet, their movements in water betrayed a hidden skill. After considering it, it made sense in a way. The water in their world is teeming with life, and they would benefit from aquatic hunting skills.
Adjacent to this 'swimming' pond, the apartment also had a gym. We have gyms back in the home world, but here on Earth, a wide range of humans frequented them, not just their armed forces personnel. They perform a variety of body movements such as lifting and putting things back down or running on a conveyor belt.
Does this dedication to simulated hardship serve as a means to channel their inherited predatory aggression? They didn't turn themselves from savage beasts into civilized people without some way to temper that excess.
We expected to meet a lot of gojids in the apartment, but it felt sparser than I had imagined. Keristian explained that the gojids here had entered into employment within the Capital. A large number had secured work on the farms. Some had brought seeds from their homeworld, which they planted back in the camp. After the human experts determined it safe enough for Earth, they transplanted the sprouts to one of the farms around the city.
I wondered if any venlil plant species had established themselves on this foreign soil. After Timür explained the concept of invasive species, I realized that I misinterpreted their cautious approach as predatory territorialism. On the other paw, the unspoiled wilderness that I witnessed on my journeys to and from the camp made me appreciate the inherent beauty of preserving such a wild landscape.
Some other gojids chose careers in logistics, serving the complex system that kept the goods in the region moving. Right now, humans directed most of their effort into alleviating the ruined cities. Some of the gojids had even volunteered to help the human, despite the presence of arxurs in the affected cities.
For our last meal of the day, we had gojid dishes made out of earth ingredients. I have to admit that I have not tried gojid cuisine before, but it grew on me just like human cuisine did.
The midday heat on Earth felt milder compared to the scorching intensity of a Deep Day in Venlil Prime's sunward section. Unlike our homeworld, where night temperatures could plummet beyond freezing, Earth's night felt comfortable.
I spent my first night on Earth sitting on the rooftop garden of the apartment. The blanket of darkness that stretched all around us sparked feelings of unease. However, the glimmering towers of the Capital provided a comforting backdrop, their lights twinkling like terrestrial stars. One of the staff members commented on how the city's light pollution obscured all but the brightest celestial bodies.
The staff member was a human after all and would do insane human things like complaining about their city not being dark enough.
Nevertheless, humans did appreciate the necessity of artificial lighting. As night fell, we could illuminate our room with the voice command, a comforting alternative to the deep night outside. I shuddered at the thought of enduring a night in such complete darkness.
Yesterday, I decided to explore the downtown capital to familiarize myself before I visited the school today. Mom insisted on tagging along and Keristian wanted Sukma, his aide, to guide us. We wanted a self-guided exploration, so as a compromise, the human equipped us with wrist-worn devices. These gadgets allowed him to track our whereabouts and also functioned as a means of payment. While the coordinator insisted we needn't worry about finances, he explained a rough price guide to prevent any possible exploitation.
Humans, in stark contrast to the lone arxurs, put heavy importance on socializing. While we waited in the station, the rhythmic cadence of Bahasa, their local language, filled the air. Thanks to Vani's provision of a language model, I could comprehend their dialogues, and snippets of human conversations drifted toward my ears.
"Do you see those domba?"
"Shhh... don't call them that. But yeah... I thought we had just one here?"
"Maybe Vani's relatives came to visit?"
However, even with the additional language model, my translator couldn't decipher all of their voices. Vani informed me that Bahasa serves as a trade language for the region and they had a plethora of other tongues that our translation device has yet to have the data for.
Once aboard the train, the humans adopted a collective silence. Being surrounded by humans aboard the train felt daunting, but this discomfort came from me standing out in this setting. I would feel the same on any other planet inhabited by a different species, carnivorous or not.
When we came to the downtown station, we plunged right away into an endless sea of humans.
Timür's unapologetic display of his face had acclimatized us to humans. We learned to perceive them not as threats but as just xenos with weird faces. It also helped that the humans in our vicinity maintained a respectful distance. However, they almost always locked their curious gaze onto us, averting their eyes when they figured out that I noticed them from my peripheral vision.
Distinguishing individual humans posed a challenge due to their similar appearance, but I soon learned to note the distinctive fabric of their clothing and the accessories they adorned.
The bustling capital of Nusantara presented us with new experiences and opportunities to learn about human culture. Mom and I took full advantage of our time there, immersing ourselves in the vibrant atmosphere provided by the city.
We first stopped at a local market, a bustling hive of activity that operated around the clock. Here, we observed humans haggling over the prices of fruits and vegetables, inspecting textiles, and purchasing a bewildering variety of cooked foods. The rich aroma of exotic spices and prepared meals filled the air.
We had a pleasant experience in the market until we stumbled onto the flesh section. Mom caused some embarrassing commotion when she vomited at the sight of the flesh.
So we decided to visit something less challenging and found ourselves going to museums and galleries. The tour guides in each institution we came to explained the history of this island while showing a collection of historical artifacts and artworks. It offered a captivating glimpse into the ancient human civilizations that once inhabited this region, and their struggles and triumphs.
We decided to have our last meal of the day in the city. With many of the buildings crammed in the city center, the place we had access to the open air lay at the top of the building. We watched the sun setting on the horizon.
As we ate through a platter of addictive fritters, Mom said that we venlil did construct similar dense settlements. Her explanation surprised me at first, as I almost forgot that Mom used to work as a civil engineer. She then explained that dense arrangements for habitats like this only made sense in colonies that lacked land or breathable air.
Humans seemed to have other motivations. They prefer gathering close to one another, creating bustling metropolises to allow for large swaths of untouched land for their wildlife.
So today, having learned to navigate the urban labyrinth of the Capital, I bid a temporary farewell to my mother at the outskirt station. Her exploration of this city would take her further out, where she would visit one of the human agricultural facilities. On the other paw, my destination lay at the heart of downtown.
Once I arrived at the downtown station, I switched on my visual overlay, allowing it to project directional instructions across my visual field. It painted a pathway to my destination through the tunnels and covered walkways. The direction landed me in one of the city's gargantuan towers.
The visual overlay translated the name of the school in venscript. Since humans write horizontally, the resulting translation turns a quarter circle. The sign above the entrance says:
"State Elementary School #1"
Number one? I suppose in a city this big, they did need more than one school. Under the sign, I spotted a human figure standing. She waved her arms and I could tell that she had waited for me. When I got closer, I made out the warm and inviting expression on her face
"Hi, I'm Andin, and you must be Principal Vichak?" Her voice sounded melodious and soft for a human. The human clasped her hands in front of her and bowed.
"Hi Principal Andin, nice to meet you," I replied to her with the same gesture. "I can't wait to see your school."
"Excellent! Follow me," she said. Her billowy one-piece dress twirled around her when she turned around.
Andin led me through the lobby and toward a balcony overseeing the heart of this educational facility, an internal atrium spanning three stories in height. The humans embedded the school inside one of their superstructure, and due to the lack of outdoor space, this architectural feature provided a simulated outside area where young humans could engage in physical activity and socialize. A synthetic material replicating grass covered the atrium's floor. Simulated sunlight streamed projected from the ceiling bathed the area in warm daylight.
An assortment of colorful play structures and exercise apparatuses dotted the periphery of the atrium. I presume they provided the students with ways to release those predator energies. Balconies jutted out from each floor, giving educators an overview of the bustling space and enabling effective supervision during playtime. The classrooms and learning spaces surrounded the atrium. As we walked past, I noticed that several of the glass panes had turned opaque.
"I read from the sign that this is an Elementary School. How old are your students?"
"Our elementary school caters to students from the first through fourth grades, so they are between six to ten years old. However, we sometimes admit older students. For instance, we have a few twelve-year-olds in the fourth grade."
Something felt a bit off from her answer. "What's next for them after this?" I probed.
"After completing their time here, students move on to four years of middle school, followed by another four years of high school. During high school, they can choose a specialization before they move on to university."
Her response left me flabbergasted. "Twelve years of education?" I said in disbelief. "It takes a full twelve years to complete education here?"
"Uh... yeah. That's pretty much the standard timeframe for education all over the planet. Just... how long does it take for you to finish your mandatory education?"
"Seven years," I responded. "By the age of thirteen, kids can start two years of vocational school and most venlils started working at fifteen."
Andin's eyes widened, "Wait, you have children working full-time at fifteen?"
"No, they're not children. They're adults." I realized that humans might have different lifespans. "What's... your age of majority here?"
"In this country, people can vote at the age of seventeen. But in our local culture adulthood starts at twenty." Andin explained.
"Alright, maybe we have a different lifespan?" Andin suggested, echoing my thought. "What's the typical lifespan of a venlil?"
"The average life expectancy hovers around ninety years, although many people live past one hundred," I explained. I wonder if perhaps humans live much longer? I didn't expect predators to live long, but humans tend to defy the norm.
"We had the same lifespan," Andin admitted.
"Wait... what?"
"Maybe we have a different education system?" She suggested again. Andin offered me her pad. "Feel free to observe any class that interests you. Here you can see the schedule for today." The contents had been translated into Ventongue. It presented a timeline of various subjects that took place throughout the day.
As my eyes skimmed over the list, one caught my attention. "Can you explain physical education?"
"In this class, we teach children how to exercise." she explained, "In fact, a PE class should begin now."
An adult human arrived on the field, followed by human children chattering and making all sorts of kid noises. They sounded just like venlil juveniles. At the command of the teacher, the students aligned themselves into a tidy grid pattern. A rhythmic melody started to play, filling the atrium with an energetic ambiance. The teacher at the front began to move in sync with the music, demonstrating a series of actions that the children mirrored.
"What are they doing?" I asked, intrigued.
"They're warming up to prepare for the activity ahead."
They performed various movements, the fluidity and synchronization of which appeared almost like a dance to my venlil eyes.
Once the 'warm up' concluded, several large, blocky objects rolled into the atrium. With a series of arm gestures from the teacher, these objects positioned themselves around the area. Some expanded to form rudimentary structures complete with roofs, transforming the atrium into some sort of tiny city.
The children gathered in a circle. Following a brief, excited chatter, they each presented a hand, some with palms facing upward, others showing the backs of their hands. According to some unspoken rule, those showing the backs of their hands stepped back, causing the circle to contract. This ritual continued and I figured out that the group with the most members excused themselves until one kid remained.
"Ah, it seems they're playing 'Hide and Seek' today," Andin commented, watching the unfolding scene with a warm smile.
"Hide and Seek? What's that?"
"One child plays as the 'cat' while the others will play as the 'mice'," she explained, her expression turning somewhat hesitant. "Ah... perhaps this wasn't the most appropriate activity for you to observe."
My translator didn't quite capture the nuances of 'cat' and 'mice', but I gathered they referred to Earth animals. The child designated as the 'cat' stood in the center of the atrium, standing near a pole with their eyes covered, while the 'mice' scattered, seeking shelter behind the fabricated structures and blocks.
The 'cat' began a loud countdown. Upon reaching zero, they removed palms hands from their eyes and commenced their search. A realization struck me as the 'cat' started prowling around.
"This... is," I murmured, taken aback by the implication of the game. "You're simulating a hunt."
From time to time, the humans can't help but remind me that despite their friendliness and civility, they had a history as predators.
"Well... yeah, when you put it like that…" she paused. "But, the children didn't see it as a hunting simulation. I mean… I doubt that none of them will become a hunter when they reach adulthood. Most of us nowadays don't hunt."
"I understand." I looked down and the cat had found a mouse, chaos ensued as the two of them rushed to the pole. The mouse touched the pole first and laughed. "You humans do need an outlet for your aggression to maintain a civil society."
"What? No…" Said Andin. "We have Physical Education to encourage a habit of fitness."
"So, you don't feel the urge to get violent, sometimes?"
"Most of us don't. Those with that kind of urge receive treatments so they don't harm themselves or other people."
I looked down at the human children below. Despite their concerning activity, they looked like they enjoyed it.
"But if this display makes you uncomfortable, we can see other classes."
I looked at the pad, where another class intrigued me.
"You have an art class? In elementary school?"
"Yeah, it encourages creativity… you don't have art classes?"
"No, those with the aptitude will go to art colleges after they graduate from school."
"Oh…" She gave me a look that I think signifies pity? "Are there other things you don't see in Venlil school?"
"The English class seems interesting. I noticed that most of your people can speak in English when needed."
"Heh, that one is contentious." She chuckled. "English is waning now, and people proposed that we teach our kids Chinese, Hindi, or Swahili for the foreign language class. I take it… you don't have a foreign language class?"
"We do, but… like art school, you learn it at the university level, usually as part of a Foreign Relation Studies. Because foreign languages are spoken by other species."
"Interesting." Again, she gave me that concerned look. "So, do you want to see the art class or the language class?"
"Art class. I think."
"Sure, let's go," Andin said, guiding me down the stairs toward the art classroom.
Upon entering the room, chaos greeted us. An eclectic array of children's artwork adorned the walls, showcasing vibrant landscapes, portraits, abstract shapes, and depictions of what I assumed were various earth creatures.
"Ah, Principal Andin," the art teacher greeted us with an inviting smile as we entered. "And we have Principal Vichak as well!"
"Meet Harta, our art teacher," Andin introduced me.
The moment we entered the room, a sea of young faces turned towards us. It felt like a forest of eyes scrutinizing us.
"Children, say hello to our visitor today, Principal Vichak."
"Good morning, Principal Vichak!" They speak in harmony. The children then refocused on their tasks, their hands returning to their brushes and colored pencils.
Some students here worked alone, while others collaborated in small groups. In one corner, I spotted a screen displaying 3D artwork, sculptures made from what looked like recycled materials, clay, and even intricate artwork made of folded paper.
"Today we have a free-form class," Harta explained. "With your visit, I asked them to make something about our two species."
Several children gathered around a large screen at one end of the room, using it to sketch out their designs before replicating them on canvas. They drew scenes of humans and venlils with a level of technical skill and creativity that amazed me, considering the young age of these kids. In one section, busy children molded a piece of clay, their tiny hands trying to create something that looked like a venlil.
"But how do you evaluate their work?" I asked, confused. "And for that matter, how do you grade students in the Physical Education class?"
"In this school system, we don't include art and physical education to determine if a student has what it takes to continue to the next grade," Andin clarified.
"We do give individual feedback to each child," Harta chimed in. "We aim to ensure their personal growth and development, not just their academic achievement."
"Indeed," Andin asserted, her voice reflecting a sense of profound conviction. "The role of the school has evolved over time. These days, we don't work just as a hub for academic instruction, but as a second home where children learn essential life skills. We work hand-in-hand with parents to nurture these young minds, helping them develop into thoughtful and responsible individuals."
This notion brought back memories of my own school back on our homeworld. People would often refer to our school as a "nursery" due to our additional class on socializing and communication. I remember Renata, the human psychologist stationed in our homeland, said that my school had the basis of a well-rounded education. Here I learned just how more "rounded" we need to be.
Throughout the day, we ventured into different classrooms, each offering a snapshot of the subjects covered in human elementary education. The STEM classes felt lackluster by my standards. However, I soon appreciated their teaching approach which encouraged students to arrive at their conclusions.
On the other hand, the social studies and citizenship curriculum appeared more intricate, which made sense, given the complex social structures of the human race, a species as varied and divided as the primitive yotuls.
Midday brought a meal break, during which I had the chance to mingle with some of the other faculty members. I learned that a significant portion of the adults currently abstained from food and drink, on account of what they called the "fasting month". Andin observed the fast as well, but she kept me company in the cafeteria despite her abstinence from eating.
"Are you sure it's alright for me to eat while you're fasting?" I asked, somewhat.
"Of course," she assured me, her face warmed by a gracious smile. "Self-restraint is a fundamental aspect of being human."
Self-restraint, a quality I found woven into the fabric of human nature. Despite the invasion hurling their world into chaos, humans displayed remarkable restraint, refraining from lashing out in anger.
Post-meal, our educational exploration resumed. The sheer number of classes devoted to non-academic skills struck me. For instance, they had a class dedicated to environmental education, where they instructed young learners on how to care for their planet. Another class, called Health and Wellness, focused on areas such as hygiene, nutrition, safety, emotional well-being, and mental health. My visit coincided with a session of "meditation", a peculiar human practice to calm themselves. When I observed the children sitting in tranquil silence with eyes closed and serene music enveloping the room, I realized that they do have a method of quelling aggression, by nurturing a peaceful disposition.
The complexities of human pedagogical methods began to dawn upon me. The length of their educational journey lasted longer than ours because of this multifaceted curriculum. They didn't focus just on the injection of academic knowledge, but they also introduced human development in theirs. Even their academic lessons went beyond feeding students with facts and figures. Instead, they encouraged a more gradual learning pace that fostered independent thinking.
Such an extensive approach to education daunted me. Could we even implement such a model in our venlil school? Considerable obstacles lay on our path, given the expectations of parents and our society at large, who were accustomed to a quicker, more streamlined education.
In any case, my day reached its conclusion, and my time to depart came. When I bid her farewell, Principal Andin provided me with a binder filled with artwork created by the students, along with personal messages for me and the students back at my own school.
I had time to reflect and consider as I walked toward the downtown station. I recalled how Andin and Harta viewed the institution not as a place of learning, but as a secondary caregiver, working hand-in-hand with parents to nurture the holistic development of their young ones.
On my way to the station, my mother called. She informed me she would be coming downtown so we could share a last meal of the day together.
"How did the farm tour go, mama?" I queried, eager to hear about her day.
"It was enlightening," she replied, leaving me curious about her experience. "And what about your day?"
"Oh, mama," I began, a sense of excitement rising in my voice, "I had an extraordinary day."
Afterwords: Humans with their 22nd century education.
Somehow this is the longest chapter I have ever written. Also note on my update schedule. I'm posting update on every date divisible by 3. That means some updates can appear 96 hours later when the last post is on 30th and the month ends in 31st,

Note: Links are gonna be posted in the comments, apparently I am disliked by the deities of this website. Also trying out a different approach to editing, feedback appreciated.
Loyalty to the ASS (Actively-Shitposting-Scriptwriters) u/Saint-Andros & u/Killsode-slugcat is mandatory. I thank them for the assistance provided.

{The Snake and the Scrapper}

[3rd of June, 2224] - [Tajara, Serdanisk refugee]
“Welcome to Velatum, friends. Once again I shall remind you. This is not under the jurisdiction of any power, the Free Systems are a loose confederacy. Different planets, even regions, have different laws.”
The pilot was a Cornacchiaris, one of the species that my nation came into contact with.Then immediately went to war with.And what do you know? Nobody won. Actually, the only ‘winners’, technically, were the Free Systems.
The bastards managed to get their own little slice of paradise…that’s why I’m here.
I held my two vestigial arms together, while I held onto a support with my left arm. The ride was rather bumpy, due to the constant cloud-cover and storms that gave this planet its name. Apparently it meant ‘Veiled’ in a dead human language. Oh Well.
I had escaped the habitat I was hatched on to find myself a new life. The Free Systems was just that. Earth and Alari were both no-gos, even though they were all about freedom and equality, the underlying hatred for my species was ever-present. Idraxi was part of the Free Systems, but there was still some Sahlari presence on that planet. Velatum was the only choice for me, it was both populated enough to where it wouldn’t feel lonely, and empty enough to where I didn’t have to breathe someone else’s air every second.
The only downside was the damn clouds. I would be getting barely any sun, and my pale-green tail was going to need it.
The shuttle touched down, and the rear ramp opened, letting us leave the tin-can that is a standard Free Systems shuttle. My objective? A scrapyard owned by one James Walken, apparently the nephew of one of the humans first contact crew.
It was less of a scrapyard and more of a tinkering workshop, as he put it. Frankly, I couldn’t care less. I just need a proper job on this damn planet. ‘Least it isn’t mining.
After an hour of treacherous roads and privately owned infrastructure, I could finally see the sign: ‘Walken Workshop’, with the word workshop being written over what I believe said ‘scrapyard’.
I knocked on the side of the open door.
“Ah hello! Welcome to my workshop. I’ve got some UNO-Standard mags and sidearms on discount right no-”
“I’m here for the job.” I wanted to cut off his sales speech before it even started, but his speaking speed was impressive.
“Oh! You must be… Tajara?”
“Yes, that’s me.” The human was more excited than me, for some reason.
I guess he didn’t have many people working with him?
“Thank you for actually coming in, seriously. I was left on read by other people after they realized they wouldn’t work under UNO jurisdiction.”
“Happens often?”
“Yeah, it does. It’s not that bad here, you definitely have more freedom than in Orion, but I guess the pirates scare everyone away.”
Pirates? Oh fuck, I forgot about that.
“About pirates, what’s their activity around here?”
“Surprisingly little, they only go against UNO and Sahlari vessels, apparently the locals made a sort of privateer pact with them.”
That’s… good? That’s really good!
“That’s nice to hear, I imagine it doesn’t impact business that much?”
“The opposite, in fact. I get some pirate crews who want repairs or modifications to their weaponry and systems. Definitely not the cleanest business, but money’s money around here.”
“I understand.”
Decent enough income… Steady stream of business… Getting to tinker with alien tech? Dear Moons, this really is a paradise!
“Anyways, you didn’t send me a resume.”
Shit.
“That’s because… I didn’t… What in the stars is a resume?”
“Oh. You don’t have those? It’s basically a summary of your past experiences.”
“I kinda… ran away? I could tell you my past experiences?”
“And what are those?”
Don’t mention the military, don’t mention the military-
“Well I have extensive knowledge on the usage of chemicals for sanitary purposes, I am capable of safely handling and connecting high voltage cables-”
“You can clean and do basic wiring. Anything else?”
“No…” Moons, don’t kick me out, please!
“That’s fine. You can be an apprentice, I guess.”
Did he… did he say yes? He said yes! By the Moons, he said yes! I am indomitable-
“You will handle the cleaning first, though.”
Fuck!
“Right.. Right. When do I get started?”
“Is it okay for you to start right now?”
Fuck it, why not?
“Yeah, it is.”
“Great! Cleaning supplies in the back, third door on the right.” I immediately headed to the back, quickly identifying the door and gathering a… bucket and strange stick with very large hairs coming off of it?
“What is this?”
“Oh that’s a mop.” Wha-
He had appeared right behind me, somehow remaining perfectly silent and covering his metallic and oily sce- Metal and oil, that’s the entire atmosphere in this damn place! That’s why I couldn’t smell him!
“Do not scare me like that! What is a mop, and how do I use it?” I quickly shoved the mop into his hands and put my fists on my waist.
“You don’t have mops…?
“Apparently we don’t. What do you use them for?”
“Cleaning the floor?”
“You don’t get cleaning robots to do it for you?”
“Do I look like a guy who owns an army of roombas?”
Huh?
“What the fuck is a roomba?”
“Forget it, why do you not have any mops?”
“I was born on a habitat-station, human. We didn’t have the luxury of letting water evaporate freely.”
“Don’t ‘human’ me, snake. You haven’t even signed a contract yet, I can kick your as-tail out.”
This fucker. I turned, quick as lighting, and nearly smashed into this jackass.
“Listen here, James. Let me make it very clear. No, I didn’t sign a contract, and no, you wouldn’t be able to even get near me without me smashing your head in.” Was that too far? Fuck it, might as well go through with it.
“You waltz in, act like you want a job, then start shit with me-”
“An insufferable little shit, that’s what you are!”
James fell silent. Then he started smirking.
“You’re hired.”
What?
“Huh?”
“Can’t have an employee who can’t back up their words, welcome to the workshop.”
Is this human serious?
“I… don’t get it?”
“Neither do I. Now all you have to do, is pour that cleaning solution into the bucket with some water, put the mop inside, then start cleaning. Don’t drench it too much, though.”
As the human, James, went back to… whatever he was doing, I started actually cleaning the floor. After two hours, that floor was spotless. There isn’t even a ship's radiator as shiny as that.
“I… am the best janitor this side of the Systems.”
“Don’t get too cocky, now.” He appeared behind me, again.
“Oh fuck off!”

My now ex gf 16f who i will refer to as "A" broke up with me 16m (both 15 at the time) because she was going to kill her self.
When i first met her she was the average uk stoner having done a few class As in the past, only having one other relationship where she was abused mentally. she did not like talking abt it but i think i can infer the details. i had had 0 experience in relationships 0 experience with drugs/ alcohol, i was a complete newbie to everything. we were almost polar opposites to each other: she had dropped out of school and now goes to a special school for kids with behavioral issues. i was and still am high achieving whilst maintaining a good reputation with my peers, i think this is what made us so interested in each other to be honest.
She had opened up to me about her depression and her trust issues before going into our relationship. i would like to say we fell pretty hard for each other but im sure i fell hardest as im still in disbelieve she did this to me even two months later. when i was with her i was the happiest i had ever ever been. it was weird, i did not think just being with somebody else could make me this happy. we were both in love. during our relationship we only had 2 arguments with us both getting over them within in at least 12 hours, we had a pact where we wound not bring them up again this worked very well, this was her idea to which i mutually agreed.
one day out of the blue i woke up to a long paragraph from her, she said we should end it because she was not in the right space for a relationship at this time, this was a lye which i later found out. i did not read the whole thing i think i was too in shock to after the first two lines everything was a blur. the message did not seem remorseful it didn't seem sincere. i asked to meet later that day which i knew she could as she only went to school once every blue moon. we met up later that day after i had school, she said she was going somewhere. she couldn't tell me where, she couldn't tell me who she was going with, she couldn't tell me what she was going to do there. perhaps she was talking about the afterlife, im not sure. that was all she told me - that day.
i was livid, i could not believe she was going to do this to me. me and her bsf 15f were both in denial that she was actually going to do this as all three of us knew we made each other happy. i took her on the right path to improving as a person, she so said her self and her bsf. right there and then whilst both of us were in tears sitting on my bed i blocked her and her friends on all socials systematically followed by delating every photo i had of her, im still unsure that this was the right decision to make at the time but it was the only thing i could think of to do as a last attempt to make her turn around and say don't do this or something like that. i hoped wrong.
one of the last things i said to her was promise me your not going to kill your self, she nodded gently. we both left my house and walked to the station holding hands in silence. i think i was too starstruck to talk. we got to the station, she asked if i wanted to kiss, without saying anything we both leaned in. i said i love you as she walked off to board the train after not talking for a long, panful 45 mins, this was reciprocated by "i love you too". later that evening i went round my mates house got drunk and talked the whole thing over with him i had to get this off my chest (pun intended) right there and then. this was the end. so i thought...
we didn't talk for two weeks. all i could think about was her. she messaged me on my birthday to say "happy birthday elliot" i now hate her for this. why had she done this to me right now, why is she messaging me again. i had made it clear in the break up that we were not going to message each other again. i had blocked her on everything. but i had forgotten to blocker her number. i don't remember exactly what i said but i was desperate, something along the lines of "i could have fixed this im sorry". she said i couldn't have fixed this and that the entire thing was her fault.
we kept messaging for another week. this was hell for me, im still not sure why i hated this week so much. on the 6th day of messaging she confessed to me, i remember it word for word, "i don't plan on being alive for much longer after summer". i didn't react. i just continued the previous conversation im not sure why i did this either. this pissed her off i think. i dont remember much more of what was said but i remember simply saying your not going to do it. she said she was going to. the next day i told her she was week and selfish for doing this to me i told her she was, "taking the easy way out". i blocked her number this time. we haven't messaged since.
a week back i messaged the same bsf, as i mention earlier, happy birthday we have been talking since, mostly not about her just other things. on a completely different note i have a new girl, im going to call her E, who i am messaging she wants to meet after our gcses (the UKs SATs equivalent). shes high achieving, smart, funny, cute but a tad on the boring side, unlike A. i believe i have moved on from A.
however last night we talked about A. she said she believes that A is likely not to kill her self anymore, i was fuming to hear this. i want her to do it i wont lye. i said this to the bsf she said she understand how i feel. i told her to message A if she would ever think about getting back with me because admittedly i would get back with her. i have had nobody make me this happy before in my life, i want that feeling again. A said she would see whether she would reconsider in collage (all four of us are going to the same collage the bsf, A, E and me). collage is 3 months away.
also to add, i manipulated A a lot along with E who i am currently talking to. i know i have to stop this but i cant. its almost pleasurable, i get some kind of sick enjoyment out of doing it. i also believe i am a narcissist, so say my friends, my family, and the bsf.
this brings me to the current moment. im not sure why i am writing this tbh. please feel free to give me advice in the comments thank you very much for reading this wonderful people of reddit x

Do any of the nearby hotels have shuttles?? Closet recommend is the new Marriott, 12 minutes walk. Other similar distance or closer? We have 1 person with a mobility disability and have reserved a electric scooter for inside the park. So, checking if anywhere has a reliable shuttle if they aren't able to walk back to the hotel. Or close enough I can run, get the car and pick them up in under 20-25 minutes.

I've taken 2 road trips between Denver and OKC mostly on EA stations. Besides some of them being derated I have not had a big issue traveling between these 2 cities. Except when they failed to notify on the app that the entire station in Colby KS was down and we had to "slow" charge at a nearby Chargepoint station. If the dispensers would provide my Ioniq 5 with the power that the car demands it would certainly cut my trip time by quite a bit. Let's all hope this new CEO manages to make EA a more reliable company

soo hello people of reddit, i am looking to talk to new people, listen to their experiences and share mine as well, im 19 years old, gamer, computer science student, indian ( just your typical avg guy ) .... i love to listen to people, read books, and listen to linkin park on repeat
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thanks for reading my post, my dms are open, feel free to reachout to me :)