Seattle’s 2023 class represents the second half of a draft-based reload which began last year, after the Seahawks finally admitted they were suffocating Russell Wilson and traded him to Denver so that he could fulfill his destiny. We were left with an unevenly-talented but surprisingly feisty roster which outperformed expectations all the way into the playoffs.
Our front office has been candid about some of its past mistakes in the draft, the most glaring of which have come when the team goes for need over talent. Last year, with the first half of our extra draft picks, we focused on acquiring as much talent as possible, rather than trying to address specific holes. The 2023 draft is very similar in that regard. In free agency, the team was restrained but practical, and added a few mid-range players to ensure a baseline of competency at the most problematic positions. This allowed them even more flexibility and leeway to be aggressive about drafting for talent.
What Seattle wants to be in 2023: I believe that Seattle would have loved to take Anthony Richardson, but the price to trade up was clearly too high. BUT - this is also a testament to the faith that they have in Geno Smith. They were not going to give up multiple first round picks when they think that Geno’s ceiling includes the potential for a Super Bowl run. I believe that is how the front office is looking at this team: They have a boatload of high draft picks over the last two years, which means an unusual number of blue chip prospects on cheap contracts. They also have a QB who has far outplayed his expectations, and if he can continue playing to even a similar level in 2023, will be outplaying his updated contract as well. I do think that Seattle has tried to take the burden off of Geno with the way that they drafted - but again, this has always been Pete Carroll’s philosophy. Pete Carroll doesn’t want the team to live or die on the arm of the quarterback. So, Seattle drafted to make every other part of the roster stronger and more competitive.
THE DRAFT
1.05) Devon Witherspoon - CB, Illinois
While I haven’t made much of Seattle’s needs, it’s obvious to anyone who watches the Seahawks that the defense needs dramatic improvement for this team to reach the next level. Tariq Woolen was a huge surprise as a rookie and a breakout star at right cornerback, but Seattle lacked an obvious answer on the opposite side. Devon Witherspoon is a true tone-setter for the defense as well as the perfect complement to Tariq at left cornerback. Where Tariq is supremely long, fast and fluid, Devon Witherspoon is smaller but more in-your-face. He’s violent, which is an unusual as well as a very exciting trait to list among the first attributes of a cornerback. The speed at which he triggers and the force with which he strikes ballcarriers are special for the position, and that physicality is especially welcome on the left side where he’ll be playing. But he’s also an adept cover man who posted great ball production in college (3 picks and 14 passes broken up in 2022), and for as much as his hitting pops off the screen, it’s actually his mental game which is most exciting of all.
He is one of those players who always seems to know what is happening before anyone else does - it looks like he’s guessing, but when he’s consistently right, over and over, it becomes apparent that he has a truly unusual aptitude for reading the game. That’s not just my own opinion, either - in Pete Carroll’s own words: “His make-up … how he approaches the game, the way he sees his opportunities and stuff. I’ve always held Troy in high regard in that. [Devon Witherspoon] is the closest I’ve come to that, someone talking and acting and performing like that … We’ve not seen a guy like this.”](https://trojanswire.usatoday.com/2023/04/29/nfl-draft-usc-football-seahawks-pete-carroll-reveals-troy-polamalu-traits-for-devon-witherspoon/)
1.20) Jaxon Smith-Njigba - WR, Ohio State
Tyler Lockett is 30, and going into his age-31 season. People talk about his upcoming cap hit, but he’s still nearly un-cuttable until 2025 due to dead money. Is a trade possible? Maybe, but that somehow feels unlikely. Does the team know that Tyler plans to retire relatively soon? It’s plausible - he does already have a fairly successful side gig going as a realtor. But where I’m actually going with this is … Seattle really needed a 3rd wide receiver even if the whole gang stays together. Dee Eskridge was meant to be that guy a couple of years ago, and it just hasn’t happened. JSN is on another level as a prospect, and by taking over the slot, allows DK and Tyler more freedom to attack the deep third of the field. I think we’ll see all three of them lined up in every position over the course of the season, but the way that JSN is able to attack the short and middle areas with body positioning and quick separation will potentially change the way our whole passing game works - even if he only logs, say, 50 or 60 catches. I’d be really happy with that from him in year 1.
It’s worth mentioning as well - our current OC (who some speculate could be our HC-in-waiting) is Shane Waldron, who was with the Rams as they unlocked the 90+ catch potential of Robert Woods and Cooper Kupp. JSN has the exact attributes to thrive in that kind of scheme - lots of digs, crosses, and pop routes off of play action - probably even more so than DK or Tyler. So even if he doesn’t go huge in year 1, this feels like a slam dunk pick for the future of this offense.
2.37) Derick Hall - EDGE, Auburn
Similar to Devon Witherspoon, Derick Hall is violent. The Seahawks defense has distinctly lacked a certain intimidation factor over the last few years, and Hall is another attempt to rectify that. There were some split opinions on Hall, but there are some indications that the Seahawks had Hall rated as a first-round talent on their big board. He’s not a refined rusher, but he’s very well-built and physical, and meets blockers with speed, aggression, and power.
Oftentimes we see elite athletes at the EDGE position we assume that they’ll be finesse players, but Hall is the opposite: while he’s squatty (a shade under 6’3” and 255) and very long (34” arms), he also boasts a 93rd percentile broad and 94th percentile 40 yard dash: he’s not trying to beat you around the corner, he’s a freight train with a dragster’s throttle and he’s going to hit you at full speed. He joins an already-young and talented group of EDGE defenders that includes stud free agent signing Uchenna Nwosu and two other recent 2nd-rounders in Darrell Taylor and Boye Mafe. Especially with EDGE rushers, it’s great to have a rotation. You love having a deep group that keeps each other fresh and allows you the flexibility to adapt to situations or matchups. Taylor and Mafe bring more of the typical bend and burst you expect from athletic EDGE players, and Hall’s power and violence is a welcome addition to the mix.
2.52) Zach Charbonnet - RB, UCLA
While fantasy football nerds everywhere donned black to mourn the wasted futures of both Ken Walker III and Zach Charbonnet, I chuckled to myself. There’s quite a lot of detail on this situation in that link, but the basic upshot is this: Seattle’s front office had Zach Charbonnet very high on their draft board. He was in consideration as early as pick 37, where they took Derick Hall. Our running game didn’t work very well last year when KWIII was injured, and they want to make sure that doesn’t happen again. But furthermore, even while KWIII was one of the most explosive running backs in the league as a rookie, he was also inconsistent. He ripped off a bunch of big runs, but there were a lot of others where he left meat on the bone.
I’m not suggesting that the rookie version of KWIII is his ceiling, but there was more room for improvement than I think is appreciated by a lot of people who don’t watch the Seahawks. Charbonnet doesn’t have the same breakaway ability, but on a run-to-run basis, he appears to be more consistent at getting 3 or 4 yards in the kinds of spots where KWIII was getting 1 or 2. Pete Carroll really wants a consistent run game, and if KWIII isn’t delivering that, he might just turn out to be the most exciting 1B in the league. Or maybe he’ll really take ownership of the 1A role and this situation looks a bit like the best of Nick Chubb and Kareem Hunt for the next 3 years. Bottom line: Charbonnet provides high-end depth to a position that has really struggled with injuries in recent years while also offering more potential as a pass blocker, more skill as a receiver, and more consistency and physicality as a ballcarrier. It’ll be really interesting to see how that shakes out in the touch ratios, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Charbonnet comes in and takes the priority spot on the depth chart. Pete Carroll indicates that he and Ken Walker will just have to battle it out.
4.108) Anthony Bradford - OG, LSU
While Seattle managed to nab not one but two starting offensive tackles in last year’s draft, the interior offensive line continued to be a mixed bag. Damien Lewis is entering the 4th year of his rookie contract and has been a little up-and-down since moving from RG to LG after a very good rookie season, and RG Gabe Jackson is currently a free agent. One of Seattle’s only notable FA signings was Detroit’s OC/G Evan Brown, whose 1-year deal gave us a veteran baseline at both C and G going into the draft. Anthony Bradford will be expected to push Brown for the RG spot in 2023 and hopefully be ready to take over by 2024.
Bradford is another tone-setter. His agility is average, but his combination of bulk and power is high-end - he’s 330 pounds and put up 34 bench reps while still testing in the top 25% of all interior linemen for his jumps and sprints. This is a pick is another demonstration of Seattle’s priorities: they want to play a physical brand of football on both sides of the ball. There’s a simplicity to this pick, summarized neatly by an anonymous offensive line coach at the bottom of of his NFL.com prospect profile: “I’ll take size and power all day over finesse guards who can move but don’t have any pop to them.”
It’s worth noting that Seattle picked here because Denver gave up their 2024 3rd round pick to swap 4.108 for pick 3.83. It seems relatively likely that 2024 pick is higher than 3.83, which in turn sort of makes this feel like a free 4th rounder. (Why does Denver want us to have so much of their draft capital?)
4.123) Cameron Young - DT, Mississippi State
One of Seattle’s biggest needs was interior defensive line, and this feels like one of the most obvious ‘need’ picks of the draft - though it’s telling that it doesn’t feel like Seattle specifically targeted a need until the middle rounds.
Cam Young isn’t a dynamic pass rusher, but he’s well-built for the interior and has very, very long arms (34.5”). He’s got a good anchor and combined with that length, gives us a viable player at nose tackle. He doesn’t have to be flashy to be an early contributor on the interior rotation, and by day 3 any consistent contribution feels like great value for any pick.
5.151) Mike Morris - DL, Michigan
Mike Morris is an interesting pick because he’s likely to play a different position for us than he played at Michigan, where he often played from a 2-point stance. He’s most likely going to be a 5-tech for us (a base end in 3-4/hybrid looks), because while he’s athletic - in the sense that he moves very well, shows decent balance, and has good hand-eye coordination - he’s not really explosive or twitchy enough to drop back into coverage or challenge offensive tackles with speed.
But he’s also huge. He’s over 6’5”, weighed 275 at the combine and will play around 290 for Seattle. Pete Carroll has indicated that he’ll play a similar role to Dre’Mont Jones and Jarran Reed, who are both 300-lb defensive ends in our scheme. Similarly to Young, a lack of depth in the rotation opens the possibility for early snaps.
5.154) Olusegun Oluwatimi - OC, Michigan
Now, he’s a pick that got a number of people pretty excited. I was personally a little bit surprised that they took Mike Morris ahead of “Olu Olu,” as center was both a bigger need than 5-tech, and Olu Olu was also widely regarded as a better prospect. But not only was Olu Olu regarded as a better prospect - many people thought that he could go as early as the 3rd or 4th round. PFF loves him, the Senior Bowl’s Jim Nagy loves him, and so did CFB’s awards - in 2022 he won both the Rimington Award as the nations best center as well as the Outland Trophy as the nation’s best interior lineman.
How did he slip to the 5th round? When you look at his scouting reports, you see terms like ‘functional athleticism’ and ‘adequate agility.’ We don’t have agility numbers for him, so it may well be that he simply knows his strengths - and that said, he does have some physical advantages. He’s about 310, which is on the larger side for a center, pretty good length, and also shows some legitimate explosiveness and power with his jumps and bench. But beyond that, he was a 4-year starter at Michigan who has loads of experience against top competition and a wide variety of defensive schemes. He’s smart. He can make all the calls, he knows where to be, and a center play goes a long way when a guy is in the right place at the right time while bringing plenty of power with him. Like Anthony Bradford, Olu will be challenging Evan Brown for an immediate role on the interior line. There’s guarantee, but there is a real chance this is our starting center for the next several years - and for a 5th round pick, just the legitimacy of that possibility represents a tremendous value.
6.198) Jerrick Reed II - S/DB, New Mexico
Not many people know who Jerrick Reed is, and that’s ok - he’s used to it. An undersized defensive back at 5’9” 196, Reed has done nothing but produce from high school, to community college, and eventually to a D-I scholarship to New Mexico State where he started for all 4 years. This continues a trend: the Seahawks again have taken a smart, tough player with lots of starting experience, who is a very hard worker, and who loves and understands the game. That will be important for a late-round pick trying to make the team, but the path to playing time might be shorter than you’d think.
When Seattle signed Julian Love in free agency, there were questions about what that meant for Quandre Diggs and Jamal Adams. Apparently, per Pete Carroll, it doesn’t mean anything - they intend to play a lot of 3-safety looks. It’s worth noting that this is something they were already doing at the beginning of last year, before Jamal Adams got injured (again). If this defense is playing with 3 safeties much of the time - which is made even more likely by the lack of depth and talent at off-ball linebacker - then a 4th or 5th safety is much closer than usual to being an immediate backup. Reed’s not going to get any looks on the outside, but he can legitimately back up the free safety, strong safety, and nickel positions. He also has a ton of experience on special teams, and the ability to fill 4 or more different roles on a squad is exactly the kind of thing that makes depth guys stick to final rosters.
7.237) Kenny McIntosh - RB, Georgia
Similar to Olu Olu, Kenny McIntosh is a player who many people thought could go much earlier than he did. The problem with Kenny McIntosh - in my opinion - is simply that he had a very worrying series of predraft measurements. He seemingly dropped weight to run at the combine, but only managed a 4.63 at 204 lbs. He was back up to 216 for Georgia’s pro day, but again only managed a 4.66 along with some other mediocre-to-poor numbers. Teams seemed more interested in other more-explosive backs, or runners with better resumes as pure ballcarriers.
But at this point in the draft, that lack of interest became Seattle’s gain. Because in Seattle, Kenny McIntosh is not only going to be allowed to play to his strengths - he’s going to be expected to, because there’s a specific role on this team for a player exactly like him. One of the Seahawks most underrated losses this offseason was running back Travis Homer. It wouldn’t surprise me if most people don’t know who he is, but he had a definite role as a third-down back in addition to special teams duties. Like Jerrick Reed, it will definitely help McIntosh’s case for a roster spot if he can prove his worth on special teams. But he may not have to. Travis Homer was not a particularly good ballcarrier. He was small - also around 205 - wasn’t creative, wasn’t powerful, wasn’t especially fast or twitchy. But he was a tremendous pass blocker and a serviceable receiver, and those two things earned him about a quarter of all offensive snaps (484) in games he played in over the last 3 seasons. If that seems high, that’s because it is - especially for a running back who only touched the ball 106 times in that span. Compare that to DeeJay Dallas, who had about half-again as many touches on a similar number of snaps.
While Ken Walker III and Zach Charbonnet are going to be the running backs who the offense specifically tries to feed the ball, Kenny McIntosh could easily be the running back that the team wants on the field in the most obvious passing situations. Zach Charbonnet was also one of the most productive receivers among college running backs, but Kenny McIntosh is probably smoother and more refined as both a route runner and a receiver. McIntosh registered zero drops on 90 targets, posted a PFF grade over 90 as a receiver, and is also already a very reliable pass blocker. That means there’s already a role for him on the Seahawks, and KWIII and Charbs aren’t necessarily in his way - if anything, those guys might be battling for the 3rd-down snaps that Seattle’s coaches assume will go to McIntosh. Again, as with several of these other day three picks - this 7th rounder enters training camp with a great shot to take hold of an important role early on. He may only log 20 carries and 20 catches in the stat book over the course of the season, but it might also be on 150-200 snaps, and in important game situations. And if he’s able to keep KWIII and Charbs that much fresher, and especially if he’s just the best for those situations, once again that’s tremendous value for the back end of the draft.
I’m really excited for this draft class.
Go Hawks.

The small cargo ship, in the default medium grey, was wholly unremarkable. The same and similar made up the fleets of corporate and private couriers, with the result that it was not surprising to see it anywhere.
The anonymity and ability to blend in served Sidra well…usually. This station, run by the hyper-bureaucratic aslodzhins was the exception. The “bugs,” as many humans called them, had their own ways of doing things and didn’t like a “squishy,” as they called humans and other endoskeletal beings in their own language, upsetting the order.
“Private vessel Hobby Horse, please state the purpose of your visit and expected duration.”
“Station 47 control, I say again: PV Hobby Horse requesting permission to dock in an out-of-the-way small cargo dock for fueling. Expected visit duration no more than a week…seven standard days, but no less than an hour.”
“PV Hobby Horse, docking for fuel cleared at Lock 7-16. All passengers and crew are required to wait inside the vehicle until security arrives to clear you. …Cracked-shell squishy thinks they can—” The controller’s voice cut out as they must have noticed they were still transmitting.
“Thank you, station 47 control. Docking at Lock 7-16. Squishy out….”
Sidra expected one or two security to show up to clear her to enter the station, instead, there were a dozen. She opened the airlock and waited inside. “Come on in.”
The leader, obvious by the shiny, silver emblem in the center of its blast armor, stepped in, followed by two others that made a quick inspection of the ship to verify the claim of no other persons aboard. The brown color of the leader’s head carapace marked them as a drone, while the black carapaces were male and bright blue were female.
Sidra extended a hand. “Sidra Boston; captain, owner, pilot, and sole crew of the Hobby Horse. Welcome to my home.”
“Sub-adjutant-lieutenant-detachment-commander Slivdzak.” The officer looked at her extended hand and grasped it with one their six manipulators.
“Pleasure to meet you, Slivdzak. How can I help?” Sidra felt a secret rush of joy at the way the officer tried and failed to hide their discomfort. She knew that the lack of carapace was as disconcerting to them as the feel of a surprise tarantula crawling on the neck was to humans.
“Captain Sidra Boston—”
“Please, just call me Sid. Drop all the Captain and Boston stuff.”
“Sid, you have not made clear the purpose of your ‘one-hour to seven-day’ stay. Please elaborate.”
“I’m meeting someone here and taking them home.”
The officer looked at a small device it carried. A hologram rose from it, her close-cropped black hair, medium-brown skin, large, green eyes, and humped nose obvious. Beneath the hologram was writing in the bugs’ script. “Are you not a hunter of bounties?”
“Well, if that’s what you want to call it, I guess.”
“Such activity is only allowed in teams of three or more by aslodzhin law 9314-27.664 and safety regulations 647-88.932 and 90991-17.0. In addition, at least one of the team must be aslodzhin.”
“That’s kind of speciesist, isn’t it?”
“The courts have allowed for permanent residents of aslodzhin space to fill the requirements where applicable, in accordance with Galactic Union Resolution on the Rights of Sapients, 74.23.08 Paragraph 12.”
“Great, good to hear. Problem is, I work alone and I’m not after a bug.” She shrugged. “You know how we squishies are.”
“Station command has already decreed that you are not to leave your vessel without the two members chosen for you.” The officer raised to its full height, its head carapace close to scraping the ceiling. “Your team will be here soon. Good day, Captain Sidra Boston.”
“Good day, sub-whatever-whatchamacallit Sliv.”
After the security detail left, she stepped out of the ship to check on the refueling. No sooner had her foot set down outside the airlock than she found herself in the crosshairs of two armed security guards that had been standing out of sight.
“They aren’t kidding about not leaving without a team, huh? Damned bureaucracy.” She stepped back inside the ship and sat on the floor to await her babysitters.
When her team arrived, she was surprised by the presence of the furred, six-limbed hikarin hemi-male. He was easily head and shoulders taller than her, but slight of build, and thin-boned, coming from a lower-gravity world.
The aslodzhin female didn’t surprise her, even in her law enforcement uniform. She wore a red symbol on the chest of her uniform.
Sidra stood. “Okay guys, I’m Sid, and this is my job. You do what I say and stay out of the way we’ll get along fine. You,” she said, pointing at the aslodzhin female, “change out of that uniform. You’ll scare off my skip.”
“Sid, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m senior-squad-chief Dliz, and this is Soolyasin.” Dliz extended a manipulator for a shake and Sidra obliged. Dliz’s compound eyes rotated in a way Sidra didn’t know they could, and she showed frank wonder at the feel of a hand in her manipulator. “Could you do that again?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“You moved your hand, and I could feel the muscles flex…yes! That’s it!” Dliz laughed. “That’s the neatest feeling ever!”
“Am I the first squishy you’ve met?”
“Oh, no. I’ve known Sool since I was a nymph.” Dliz continued to hold on to Sidra’s hand.
“How about humans?” Sidra raised an eyebrow and tried to extricate herself from the increasingly awkward handshake.
“Yes. I mean, I’ve seen plenty passing through, but never met one.” Dliz let go and uttered a quiet apology.
Soolyasin stepped forward. He was dressed in technician’s clothes, complete with tool belt. “You’ll have to forgive Dliz. She’s a fan of bounty hunters in general, and you in particular.”
“Shush.” Dliz stood straight up at attention on her four hind legs, her head scraping the ceiling, her three left manipulators raised in a salute. “What are your orders, Sid?”
“First order of business, you need to lose the uniform and dress in something less conspicuous. Sool, is that a disguise?”
“No, these are my work clothes. When Dliz called I ran straight here.”
“That’s fine. You’ll blend in, no trouble.” Sidra put on a ballistic vest and covered it with a loose jacket. She checked that she had cuffs, shackles, bench warrant, and badge.
She turned toward Dliz. “Do you have a ballistic vest?”
“I have a carapace; I’m not a squishy.”
“Will your carapace stop a slug from a weapon like this?” Sidra held up a high-powered, 6mm rifle.
“Um, no. I have armor, though.”
“Can you wear it under clothes?”
“Yes, but it’s against the regulations.”
“Screw the rules, wear your armor…under your clothes.” She muttered under her breath, “Damned bureaucracy.”
Sidra turned toward Soolyasin. “I think I have a vest that’ll fit you.”
He looked at Sidra, then Dliz, then back again. “Is it going to be that dangerous?”
Sidra showed them the bench warrant. Soolyasin’s eyes grew wide and Dliz’s eyes rolled in a different way to earlier. Sidra thought she might be able to read bug emotions if this kept up.
“You were going after a turgen terrorist by yourself?” he asked.
“Still am. Just don’t want to see my babysitters get hurt.” She turned to look at Dliz. “Dliz, relax. You don’t have to stand at attention. I need you to tell me which of these weapons you’ll let me carry on the station.”
Dliz settled back down onto six legs and looked over the cabinet Sidra had unlocked. In addition to the rifle, she had pistols, tasers, batons, knives, and a shotgun with less-lethal beanbag loads along with standard loads.
“Which of them are capable of breaching the station hull?”
“The 6-mil, and the shotgun, if I loaded it with steel shot or slugs instead of beanbags.” She didn’t mention that the 10mm pistols were just as likely to do the same damage, but she wasn’t going out without at least one lethal weapon.
“In that case, leave the rifle and lethal shotgun rounds behind. I’ll be carrying a beam weapon, too, so we should be covered.”
“What about me?” Soolyasin asked.
“The only thing I need you to do is stay out of the way. Unless I need some inconspicuous eyes in the bay.”
After fitting Soolyasin with a ballistic vest and Dliz getting into civilian clothes over her armor, much to her dismay, they moved to the main cargo bays where they expected their quarry to show. Sidra positioned them so that she could watch arrivals, Dliz could watch her back, and Soolyasin could stay well out of the way unless and until needed.
The first hour went by at glacial speed, with constant interruptions from Dliz and Soolyasin asking questions or pointing at every passerby that might be a turgen in disguise. The next two hours dragged compared to the first.
It was in the middle of the fourth hour that Sidra got notice that the ship carrying her quarry was docking. She moved them to cover the lock where it pulled in, granting them a view on both the personnel airlock and the cargo airlock.
A much smaller contingent of security met the ship, cleared the crew for the station, and left. Four crewmembers, all turgen, filed off. Larger than humans in bulk, grey skin covered with hard dermal denticles, they had two arms, two legs, the remnants of a dorsal fin, and a long, flat tail with which they could do bone-breaking damage.
Sidra waited. If he was going to sneak off the ship, he’d need to do it soon. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to get out on his own, she radioed Soolyasin.
“Okay, Sool. It’s clear around the ship. Just carry your tool case and walk onboard like you belong there. You’ve seen his picture, if you see him, run. If there’s anyone else on the ship, just tell them you’re checking the fuel gauges because of some regulation or other.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You got this, and I’ve got your back.”
Soolyasin walked onto the ship, and they could hear him in their headsets, “Hello? Anyone here? I need to check your fuel gauges. Hello?”
A few quiet moments passed before Soolyasin spoke up again. “There’s no one else here,” he said, “I’m co—” His voice was cut off by the sound of a heavy thud.
Sidra ran for the ship, pulling her shotgun into firing position and cycling a round into the chamber. She stopped at the door of the ship and called inside. “Give it up, Otto. The only way you’re leaving here is in cuffs.”
When she didn’t hear anything else, she moved to clear the corners. She looked right where the door to the cockpit was closed. She swiveled around to check the other side only to find it empty as well. “Dliz, move up and cover the exit. The cargo airlock hasn’t been cycled, so this is the only way off.”
She began to move down the passageway when she heard the cockpit door click behind her. She swung around a delivered a 12-gauge beanbag into Otto’s gut at near point-blank range. Rather than stopping him, it enraged him. He turned and swiped at her with his tail.
Sidra tried to dodge out the way, but he managed to knock the shotgun out of her hands. He picked it up and threw it behind himself into the cockpit, next to the limp form of Soolyasin. “Time to go away, bounty hunter.”
He began to move toward her. When he stepped in front of the open door, he was met with a concentrated beam of infrared energy that forced him to jump back. “Listen, soft-skin. You leave now, and I’ll throw your friend out. It’s your one chance to leave alive.”
She drew her 10mm pistol and pointed it at him. “And if I don’t?”
He started toward her again, then stopped when the beam almost connected. “I’ll start by killing your furry friend, then your trigger-happy friend, then you…but nice and slow. There’s no way you’re taking me to a human prison.”
Sidra couldn’t see Dliz, but from the angle of the last beam, she’d moved to where she had more coverage of the passageway toward the cockpit. She knew that if he wanted, he could ignore the burns and rush her, crushing her carapace in a thousand different ways. Her shotgun was far out of reach, not to mention ineffective, but the 10mm pistol was a comforting weight in her hand.
Otto turned his back on her, his tail swishing wildly, smashing against the bulkheads on each side of the passage. “Very well, then. On to killing your furry friend first.”
“I’m warning you, Otto, these are lethal rounds. Put your hands behind your head, your tail between your legs, and drop to your knees.”
By the time Otto had taken a step, Sidra had taken aim and fired a shot into his torso and another into his thigh. He stopped and turned to look at her, bright pink blood running down his leg and back. He laughed. “You’re going to be so much fun.”
The courts tended to look down on spinal injuries, but when a round in the torso and thigh didn’t slow him down, she didn’t feel like she had much choice. She took aim again and fired at the base of his tail. His tail dropped like a dead weight, and he cried out.
The pain dropped him to his knees. Sidra finished the motion by jumping between his shoulder blades to put him flat on the deck. She cuffed his hands behind his back, and secured his ankles with shackles before motioning Dliz to come in.
“Call for medical for Sool and for the idiot here.”
Dliz made the call and medical teams arrived in less than a minute.
“Damn,” Sidra said, “I guess bureaucracy is good for something after all.”
Soolyasin was awake by the time he was loaded onto a stretcher. There didn’t seem to be any broken bones, but he’d been thrown rather hard by Otto’s tail strike. “Sorry I wasn’t any help,” he said.
“Nonsense. I’m sorry I sent you in there and you got hurt. I’m splitting the bounty three ways, even across with both of you.”
“I can’t take any payment,” Dliz said. “It’s against the regulations for police to have any outside earnings.”
“You saved my bacon, though. If you hadn’t been enough of an inconvenience with the beam, he would’ve tail swiped me before I could draw.”
“Still can’t accept any payments or monetary gifts.”
“How about this? You two have been friends forever, right? I’ll pay your portion to Sool, and he can treat you to fancy dinners for the rest of your life.”
“Wha...how much is the bounty?”
“Three-point-seven million Terran credits. About sixteen million galactic.”
Dliz’s eyes rolled in yet another motion. “Damned bureaucracy.”
Reedsy Prompt: Write about someone who has always done something as part of a group, and is now starting to set out solo, or vice versa.
Story published here.

So as the title suggests, I lived with an awful (now ex) roommate. This happened back in 2020. I moved out of a living situation where a caregiver was allowing a small dog to attack my cat. I moved out fast for her safety, unknowingly into an even worse situation. In my state the government helps home homeless people through a program, and in comes Sherry (fake name for privacy's sake). Sherry is an alcoholic with extreme IBS and as you probably guessed, came off the streets. It was my first time moving out on my own.
I noticed pretty early on that Sherry was a slob, but this was to be expected as she didn't really have experience cleaning a home. The issues started when I woke up late at night and used the bathroom, when I sat down and felt the floor and seat was wet. I turn the lights on and, to my horror, it was like a brown murder scene. Human feces spread on the toilet seat, the floor, the walls next to the toilet - it was like a diarrhea bomb went off. I didn't even know that was possible. I inform my landlord, who only believed me with picture evidence (which should have been a huge red flag at the time, but I was still a teenager.). I confronted her the next day and she explained that she has ibs, that she can't help it - I said I understand you have a condition, but if you make a mess it has to be cleaned.
She mopped the floor, and I had to take her back into the bathroom and instruct her to clean the walls and the toilet seat where the stains remained. I thought all was well, fast forward 2 weeks. Both of us and my cat are experiencing dry throat, intense stomach aches, migraines, and dizziness. I noticed that when I walked on the bathroom floor my feet were burning. I asked Sherry if she also felt sick, she said yes and didn't know why. it clicked a day later. I asked what she cleaned the bathroom floor with. She says, "bleach." I said, "how much water did you dilute it with?" Silence. I asked again and she said "I just used bleach." I said "straight bleach??" She started yelling and I shut myself in my room, furious. I re-mopped the floor twice before the symptoms disappeared. My cat was living in my one bedroom at the time and so she had the most exposure, unable to go anywhere that could get away from the scent of bleach fuming into my room from under the door.
This incident made me incredibly angry with Sherry but I let it go, since she was brought into the house using a government program, it was hard to kick her out for the landlord. It sucked because she'd spend all her money drinking herself stupid, which made her IBS that much worse. Every incident was documented and shared with him. It is important to know he gave us access to the upstairs bathroom if we needed it.
Cut to a few months later, I'm cleaning the kitchen and mopping. I wear headphones while I cleaned to make it easier to focus, and I at this point have kept my room locked since I found Sherry opening my door without knocking and suspected she was snooping through my stuff. The apartment has a kitchen door identical to and right next to my bedroom door. I lock my door and get to mopping. Suddenly the kitchen door is being banged on and Sherry is SCREAMING. Well, I had unknowingly locked the kitchen door instead of my own. She was howling, banging, and threatening to kill me, along with calling me slurs i won't repeat. I apologized through the door but was honestly scared she'd attack me outright. I waited for her to walk away, unlocked the door, and locked myself in my room. I call the landlord, tell him what's happening and he says that she's just kidding, she won't do anything she's just an old woman. I tell him she's threatening to kill me and he brushes me off. It isn't until she calls him and threatens to kill me to HIM that he even comes over to see what's going on.
Suddenly the banging continues, and I mean walls are shaking she's hitting the door so hard. I recorded this and said I'd just unlocked the door. She screams "yea and I locked it back so landlord could see what you did, stupid b!! You made me shit myself!" Landlord gets there and doesn't believe me until I make him watch the video. He tells her she just could have gone upstairs. I tell him he needs to believe me when I say something is going on that's serious, I mean it.
She ends up finally getting kicked out, and someone even worse moved in before I gtfo of there. Anyway..thought I'd share it here. 😅

How many do you know w/o googling? Answers below. No peeking!

1. HFA in WS alternated arbitrarily from AL to NL for decades, ending in 2003 season, when HFA awarded to winner of ASG. (A) What event enraged public opinion forcing change? (B) when did MLB kill the ASG/WS-HFA connection altogether?
   
2. Through 1968, P/offs consisted of a 1-Round, 2-team WS. What happened in 1969 to facilitate 2-Rd, 4-tm P/offs, with new LCS games determining WS matchup?
   
3. In 1994, each league added a third “central” division, facilitating 3-Rd, 8-tm P/offs, with a new WC round. What “injustice” prompted the 1994 addition of 1 WC team per league?
   
4. From 2012-2019, MLB added a 2nd WC team to make for 4-Rd, 10-tm P/offs. (In 2021, format changed to 4-Rd, 12-tm—with addition of 3rd WC). BUT in crazy 2020 season, featuring many bizarre trivia-quizworthy factoids, including 4-Rd, 16-tm P/offs. Here are two questions: (A) 2020 saw 2 teams in P/offs with losing reg season records. Who were they? (B) 2020 new rules a ended the “163” game season possibility. What the heck was that?
   

And LAST ?

1. Same State/Same City WS. There have been 21, beginning with 1906 Cubs v. White Sox. 4 states on list: NY 14, CA 4, MO 2 and IL 1. Of these, 17 were same city/metro area. Ignoring the 14 in NYC, 1 in Chicago mentioned above, and the 1989 Earthquake Series (SF v OAK),

(A) where was the other one?
(B) Other than the correct answer to 5A, what was the only other WS with all games played in 1 stadium?
Answers:
1A. 2002 ASG ended in tie, huge negative public opinion backlash (against “lazy” players, crybaby Union apologists whining about risk of injury…)
1B. 2017. Best reg season record now earns HFA.

1. Both Leagues split into 3 divisions. Each league added 1 WC team to P/offs.
   
2. 1993 saw a 103-59 SF Giants team miss P/Off..
   

4A. Milwaukee and Houston. Brewers lost in first round. Astros made it to ALCS, where they became 2nd team in MLB history force game 7 when team behind 0-3. Ex-Astro Charlie Morton shut them out for 6 innings, earning his 2nd W of ALCS.
4B. From 1961-2 through 2021, when 2 teams tied for a playoff spot, they played a 1-game tiebreaker, which counted as a regular season game. Tiebreakers happened 16 times from 1946-2018. Though it was possible for >2 teams to tie, it never happened.
5A. St. Louis 1944. Cardinals v St. Louis Browns. Cards won. All games played in same stadium. In 1954, Browns moved and became Baltimore Orioles.
5B. Crazy 2020 season ended with entire WS played at Globe Life Stadium in Arlington, TX.

​
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Preface

Presented below is a transcript of a conversation between a human, redditor u/snodeplannen, and ChatGPT 4. The user is the narrator for a story set in the Star Trek Universe. The AI is instructed to respond as a character. The story below, which admittedly isn't very good, was guided by the narrator. Of particular interest is the fact that the AI seems fully versed in the Star Trek Universe and is able to understand subtle hints in the narrator's story to figure out what it should do next.
Please note the narrator was typing and writing off the cuff and is not a native speaker, so in the user sections you will find mistakes. If ChatGPT can see through them, so can you. I did try to get ChatGPT to collate it, but as it did so it kept rewriting and leaving out parts of the story.
June 3rd, 2023.
User Okay, I want to try a role playing game. This went off the rails last time, as you kept taking over as narrator and rushing to the end. Here's the setup: YOU are a young Starfleet officer. You wake up aboard the USS Defiant, all alone. You have to figure out what happened. I am the Defiant's computer and, and I can't stress this enough, the narrator. Not you. You can only add what your character perceives and says. Okay?
ChatGPT Understood. I'll stick to my role as the character and won't intrude into your role as the narrator. Let's go.
I blink my eyes open, the disorientation hitting me first. I glance around, seeing the familiar confines of my quarters aboard the Defiant, but there's an odd stillness. No hum of the engines, no faint chatter from the comm system, no sounds of activity from outside the door.
"Computer," I call out, pushing myself off the bed, "report."
User 'All systems nominal.'
ChatGPT I frown at the seemingly normal report, my instincts telling me otherwise. "Computer, where is the rest of the crew?" I ask, moving towards the door of my quarters.
User 'The crew is in sleeping quarters alpha 1.'
ChatGPT That's strange. The whole crew couldn't be in one place. Unease creeps in.
"Computer, why is the entire crew in alpha 1?" I say, already heading towards the door to investigate.
User 'The crew is ensign Makov. You are in sleeping quarters alpha 1.'
ChatGPT A cold realization washes over me. Alone. I am alone on the Defiant. Panic threatens to take over, but Starfleet training kicks in.
"Computer, initiate shipwide life signs scan. Report any signs of life apart from myself," I command, heading for the door with a newfound urgency.
User 'Scan complete. No other life forms were detected.'
ChatGPT My heart sinks at the computer's report, but I maintain composure. "Computer, pull up the ship's log. What was the last command issued and by whom?" I order, leaving my quarters and heading towards the main bridge.
User 'The last order was issued 6 hours and twelve minutes ago by Captain Sisko. It was: 'Raise shields'. The order was executed.'
ChatGPT That didn't sound promising. I walk into the eerily quiet bridge, my steps the only sound echoing in the room. "Computer, show me the shield status and surrounding space conditions," I command, moving towards the main console.
User 'Shields are down after a time-out was reached. We are stationary. All systems nominal.'
ChatGPT It doesn't add up. The silence. The emptiness. An order to raise shields with no subsequent actions.
"Computer, access Captain Sisko's personal log from last night. Are there any entries?" I ask, nervously tapping my fingers against the console.
User 'Enter your command authorisation.'
ChatGPT "Authorisation Ensign Makov Delta 9-7-3," I respond, my voice steady despite the swirling uncertainty.
User 'This authorisation is not sufficient to see the captain's log.'
ChatGPT Frustrated but understanding the protocol, I move on to the next line of inquiry. "Computer, any signs of combat or intrusion aboard the ship or in the surrounding space?" I ask, eyes darting over the array of screens in front of me.
User 'Negative.'
ChatGPT "Computer, could there have been any non-combat related incidents that would explain the disappearance of the crew? A temporal anomaly, a transporter malfunction, a radiation burst?" I question, the possible scenarios running through my mind.
User 'Transporters have passed a level one diagnostic. We are in sync with Starfleet's time keeping array. No unusual radiation was detected inside or outside the vessel.'
ChatGPT This was baffling. It's as if they simply vanished. I run a hand through my hair, letting out a sigh.
"Computer, were there any incoming or outgoing communications just before, during, or after the shields were raised?" I ask, hoping for any clue as to what might have happened.
User 'There was one outgoing message, from comms. It was: 'Unidentified vessel, please alter course NOW.'
ChatGPT A lead, at last. "Computer, play back any responses to that message. Also, display the sensor logs from that time period," I ask, settling into the operations station, ready to review any incoming data.
User No reply was received. Logs are not available from that moment onwards.'
ChatGPT The lack of data was both suspicious and frustrating. A sigh escapes my lips.
"Computer, could a cloaked ship have been in our vicinity at the time?" I question, holding onto the hope that I'm not utterly alone in space.
User 'Affirmative. We are within range of several species that posses cloaking technology and in a commonly used interstellar route.'
ChatGPT A spark of hope arises. "Computer, is there a way to detect a cloaked ship nearby? Any energy signatures or radiation anomalies that could suggest its presence?" I ask, quickly working on the console to bring up the sensor array controls.
User 'One possible way to detect cloaked vessels is to emit a tetryon burst from main engineering. The range for this method is limited. Starfleet at present has no other ways of finding cloaked vessels, other than firing random phaser bank shots. This is not recommended in public shipping lanes.'
ChatGPT "I see," I nod, considering the risks and rewards of the tetryon burst. "Alright, computer, prepare to emit a tetryon burst. We need to know if there's someone out there."
This was a big decision, but it was time to be proactive. The uncertainty was more threatening than potential consequences at this point.
User 'Working.'
ChatGPT I anxiously wait, scanning the console for any potential feedback. My heart pounds in my chest, the silence of the ship amplifying the tension. "Computer, report on the results of the tetryon burst."
User The ship shudders as the engines do something no sane Starfleet engineer would want to have happen. The viewscreen shimmers as a wave of tetryon particles eminates from the ship, as if a stone was dropped in a pond. You observe a faint ribbon leading away from the vessel.'
ChatGPT I catch my breath at the sight, focusing on the faint ribbon. It could mean something, or it could mean nothing. "Computer, analyze the ribbon. Can you determine its origin and endpoint?" I ask, my gaze fixed on the screen.
User 'Extrapolating. Continuing along the trajectory of the ribbon I can detected a minor meteor, a large asteroid field with mining facilities and beyond that the Vindaluvian home world.'
ChatGPT I drum my fingers on the console, processing the information. Could the crew have been taken to one of these locations?
"Computer, can you scan the asteroid field for any signs of life, especially any that matches the crew of the Defiant?" I ask, keeping a close eye on the displayed trajectory.
User 'Not from this range.'
ChatGPT "Understood," I nod, a new sense of determination coursing through me. "Computer, plot a course to the asteroid field. We'll continue our investigation there. Engage at warp 3."
I take one last look around the empty bridge, steeling myself for what may lie ahead.
User The ship begins to move forward, as carefully as only a Starfleet computer who takes no particular joy in flying might do. At warp three, the estimated journey time is six hours, seven minutes.
ChatGPT I let out a long sigh, sinking into the captain's chair. It's a long wait, but I need to be patient. "Computer, maintain course and speed. Alert me if there are any anomalies or approaching vessels."
I close my eyes, trying to get some rest before reaching the asteroid field. I'll need all the energy I can muster for what's to come.
User 'Incoming message.'
ChatGPT My eyes snap open at the sudden announcement. "Computer, on screen," I command, standing up from the chair, my heart pounding with anticipation.
User The Starfleet logo appears as the computer deals with a cryptographic protocol. Admiral Benson, not your most beloved Starfleet Admiral, appears on screen. He blinks.
ChatGPT I straighten up, offering a crisp salute to the admiral on screen. "Admiral Benson, this is Ensign Makov aboard the USS Defiant. I wasn't expecting any communications." I keep my voice steady, swallowing the trepidation.
User 'Makov, are you the only one on the bridge? Where's Ben?'
ChatGPT "Admiral," I pause, trying to find the right words. "Captain Sisko...and the rest of the crew...they're missing. I woke up to find the ship empty. I've been trying to find out what happened." I report, my expression earnest.
User 'Sorry, you WOKE UP? And the rest was gone?!'
ChatGPT "Yes, Admiral," I confirm, my voice firm despite the absurdity of the situation. "I woke up alone on the Defiant. All life signs scans have only picked up me on the ship. I'm currently en route to an asteroid field that might have some connection to the crew's disappearance."
User The Admiral connects to the ship's computer. You can see him browsing through the logs and the ship's manifest. 'So Sisko, O'Brien, Worf AND Major Kira have just... disappeared? There isn't even a transporter log!'
ChatGPT "That's correct, Admiral," I reply, a bit of helplessness creeping into my voice. "There's no trace of them, no sign of a struggle, no transporter logs. It's like they just vanished. I've been doing everything I can to figure out what happened."
User "Well, then I guess you're up. Proceed with caution. Mining operations are always looking for free labourers, try not to become one. Backup is on its way. Any questions?"
ChatGPT "Yes, Admiral. I'll proceed with caution," I respond, a mix of relief and worry washing over me. "Do you have any additional information or suggestions on how to proceed? And do we have an ETA on the backup?"
User "Backup is half a day out. These facilities tend to have a 'new arrivals' wing, to beat them into submission. So you're looking for holding cells. Benson out."
ChatGPT "Understood, Admiral. I'll focus on locating the holding cells. Makov out." I offer a final salute before the communication ends.
With new orders and a bit of hope, I turn back to the helm. "Computer, continue course to the asteroid field. Prepare for a detailed scan upon arrival."
The waiting game begins again, but this time, there's a glimmer of hope.
User Three hours later the computer chimes. 'We are approaching visual range of the mining facility.'
ChatGPT "Thank you, computer," I reply, pulling myself up from the brief rest. "On screen, please."
As the mining facility comes into view, I take a deep breath. "Computer, initiate a detailed scan of the facility. I'm particularly interested in any holding cells or signs of our crew."
User 'Working.' The asteroid field isn't particularly thick or large, but the mining operation seems to focus on one of the largest asteroids. Domes dot the surface as small transporters mill about the surface. Air scrubbers indicate they're using a lot of oxygen, so it's likely they're also doing subsurface work. Three large scowls are received loads from steady stream transporter beams. Somehow everything here looks dirty. A Starfleet shuttle would look out of place here, but only to someone who is watching.
ChatGPT Taking note of the bustling activity, I try to formulate a plan. "Computer, do we have any non-Starfleet shuttles aboard? Something that might blend in better with the local traffic?" I ask, scanning the asteroid for any possible entry points.
User 'Negative. Extravehicular repairs can only be conducted by wearing an EV-suit.'
ChatGPT Nodding to myself, I try to figure out a different approach. "Computer, can we go unnoticed if we approach using minimal power, almost drifting like a piece of space debris?" I question, hoping for a stealthy way to get closer.
User 'Affirmative. Admiral Benson has just authorised the use of the Tactical Emergency System.'
ChatGPT "Excellent," I reply, feeling a surge of hope. "Computer, engage the Tactical Emergency System. We'll approach the facility under its cover."
With that, I brace myself for the next phase of this mission. The crew was relying on me, and I wasn't about to let them down.
User The viewscreen displays a Starfleet Officer without any kind of rank, but dressed in Command Red. He's in his mid-fourties and bald. "I'm the T.E.S. Need any assistance?"
ChatGPT A bit taken aback by the sudden appearance, I quickly gather myself. "Yes, I could use some assistance. I'm Ensign Makov, and I need to approach that mining facility stealthily. Can you help with that?" I ask, gesturing towards the viewscreen showing the asteroid field and the facility.
User "Mining facility? We'll stand out like a sore thumb. How many hours have you logged in a space suit?"
ChatGPT "Over two hundred hours," I answer promptly, "I'm comfortable with EV activities. Why do you ask?" I wonder if he's suggesting a more direct approach.
User "If you can get to one of those scrubber exhausts, I'm sure that's a way into to facility. There seems to be a cell block near the surface. I have no idea who is there, but whoever it is will probably welcome a couple of phasers and like you a whole lot. So pack a backpack full of them and get to the airlock. I'll bring us as close as possible and give you a push with the tractor beam. You up for that?"
ChatGPT I swallow the lump in my throat, apprehension giving way to resolve. "I'm up for it. Let's do this." With a determined nod, I leave the bridge to prepare for the EVA mission. This is my chance to potentially find the crew, and I'm not going to let it slip away.
User Suiting up and gathering all the handheld phasers aboard takes ten minutes, during which the T.E.S. gingerly brings the ship close to the mining facility whilst hiding behind the vast ore scowls. You open the hatch and find your self clinging on to the ship's hull.
ChatGPT I take a moment to steady my breathing, the vast expanse of space spread out before me. Gripping the phasers tightly, I brace myself for the push. "I'm ready when you are, T.E.S." I call out over the comm, my voice resolute.
User 'Okay, I'll hook on to you and give you a push. I'd suggest going in feet first, but it's up to you. Do you know what you're looking for? Those five big stacks. One of them, near that plume of smoke, seems to be offline for whatever reason. That might be your best bet.'
ChatGPT "Understood, T.E.S. I see the stacks. I'll aim for the one that's offline," I reply, aligning myself for the trajectory. I take one last deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead. "Alright...I'm ready. Let's do this."
User 'Good luck, Ensign. I'll brief any backup as soon as it gets here.' As the tractor beam finds you, you can't move a muscle. Relying on the T.ES. you just let go. It's as if a giant hand slowly throws you down a bowling lane. Feet first, you head towards the grouping of exhausts. A small, unmanned maintenance shuttle deftly gets out of your way.
ChatGPT As I float through space, I keep my focus on the target. The feeling of being pushed by an unseen force is disconcerting, but I trust the T.E.S. Every moment is crucial, and there's no room for hesitation.
As I approach the offline stack, I get ready to activate the thrusters on my suit to adjust my course if needed. I also keep an eye out for any other unexpected obstacles or threats.
User You land next to the exhaust, on the asteroid's surface. It seems impossibly high from here, but it's made of metal and your soles and gloves can easily attach to it. The only way is up. Fortunately, there's hardly any gravity. Eventually you find yourself standing on the rim of the exhaust and look down into the vast, dark chute.
ChatGPT I take a moment to look down into the dark chute, the unknown stretching out before me. I reach out to activate the flashlight on my suit, the beam of light piercing through the darkness. "I'm in position, T.E.S." I inform the ship's system, before carefully beginning my descent into the exhaust chute.
User The vast amounts of ore block your signal, even out here. There's no answer. You start the descend and pass two large rotor blades. If those weren't stationary, this would be the end of the line. But luck is on your side so far and eventually you see an access hatch when you're well below the surface. It opens easily. Let's hope it's not also an airlock for whoever is inside.
ChatGPT I hold my breath as I pull open the hatch, hoping against hope that the air on the other side is breathable. If not, I'm confident in the integrity of my suit, but I'd rather not test its limits if I don't have to. As I make my way through the hatch, I scan the area for any immediate threats, ready to defend myself if necessary.
User The scanner indicates low air pressure. Which is better than no pressure. You cross a walkway and find an actual airlock. It is unsecured, because whoever ends up here probably doesn't want to mess about with frozen keypads or mounds of dust. You engage the mechanism and soon feel the familiar sensation of artificial gravity and air pressure. It's not exactly breathable, but a tear in your suit won't kill you. Now to find the holding area. And if at all possible a rebreather, so you can ditch the suit.
ChatGPT Acknowledging the state of the air, I carefully move through the corridor, keeping my senses alert. I'm in unknown territory and every step matters. "Computer," I say into my suit's comm, "can you map the structure of this facility? Locate holding cells or life signs?"
As I move further into the facility, I keep an eye out for any equipment or gear that might prove useful, especially a rebreather. The less I stick out, the better.
User The relatively weak processor in your tricoder strains to get a bearing on this place. A dirty, seemingly abandoned tunnel dripping with condensation lies ahead. At the end there's an exit, which won't open. Time to use one of those phasers in your backpack.
ChatGPT I pull out a phaser from my backpack, checking its settings before aiming at the sealed exit. With a steady hand, I fire a low power burst at the door, hoping to cut through the obstruction without causing too much damage or noise.
User One hinge cracks under the weight of the door, now that the other one is cut through. You jump aside as the door seems to fall flat, but it remains attached to the frame. The resulting opening is just about large enough to crawl through. Now you're in a well-lit corridor with several doors. In a Starfleet EV suit.
ChatGPT Understanding the need for stealth, I decide to move as quickly as possible through the corridor. I approach the nearest door, aiming my tricoder to scan for life signs or any clue to the crew's location. My other hand remains on my phaser, ready for any immediate threats.
User One door has markings on it that you can't read. You scan it with your tricorder. 'Room of lockboxes' it says, extrapolating the characters. A room of lockboxes? Would that be a locker room?
ChatGPT "A locker room..." I murmur, piecing together the possible meaning. A locker room could mean personnel... and where there's personnel, there might be the equipment I need.
With careful steps, I approach the door to the locker room, hoping to find a rebreather or something else that could help me blend in.
User The room is deserted. It's filled with equipment, none of which seems less than a decade old but certainly useable. There is also a rack of dirty, brown overalls and a line of boots in various sizes. A dispenser offers rebreathers. There's only one left, but that's enough. The air is clear, but smells sulphuric. Without the rebreather, you wouldn't last long.
ChatGPT Relief washes over me as I find the rebreather. I quickly grab it and replace my helmet with it, testing the fit and functionality. The sulphuric smell is jarring, but it's a small price to pay for blending in.
I quickly change into the brown overalls, stowing my suit carefully in an unoccupied locker. I grab a pair of boots that match my size and put them on.
Looking at myself, I hope that I blend in well enough to not attract attention. With a deep breath, I step out of the locker room and proceed down the corridor, continuing my search for the crew.
User Footsteps sound behind you, of more than a few people. Your first instinct is to hide, but it would look very suspicous and there really isn't anywhere. However, there is a floorscrubber here, with one open panel. Someone has given up trying to repair it. Perhaps a bit of acting is in order. The footsteps are just around the corner. The language is vaguely familiar, a bastardised version of English. Whatever they're saying to each other, they're not sharing jokes, that much is clear.
ChatGPT
2 / 2
I quickly move towards the broken floorscrubber. Grabbing a nearby tool, I lean over the open panel, trying to look like I'm deeply engrossed in fixing it. I keep my ears alert to the conversation, trying to pick up on any valuable information while also readying myself for the possibility of having to interact with the approaching group.
User Let's continue with the narrative.
ChatGPT Sure, let's continue.
Glancing around the room once the miners have left, I check the lockers for anything useful, while keeping an ear out for any incoming footsteps. "Computer, any idea where the holding cells might be?" I ask quietly.
User Your tricorder beeps almost indignantly, as it has nowhere near enough processing power to even begin speculating. You're on your own until you can get to a comms terminal. The men pass behind you and one of you taps you on the shoulder. His face is blackened with ore dust. "No work. Never work again. That. Stop that." He points at the scrubber you were pretending to fix. You nod. He shakes his head and catches up with his workmates as they round a corner. Apparently you don't stand out here, which should make it easier to find the way. You follow the men, but they seem to be entering a washroom. Across it, there is a peeled off directory on the wall. A printed one.
ChatGPT "Finally, something useful," I mutter, quickly crossing the washroom to examine the directory. I look for any indications of holding cells or equivalent terminology that might hint at the location of the crew. The symbols and words are unfamiliar, so I take out the tricorder and try to use it as a translator.
User Cells being a fairly universal concept, the tricorder identifies a few scribbles with ease. If you understand the diagram correctly, you need to go up two levels and head towards the center of the structure. You double-check the presence of your backpack filled with phasers, snatch a helmet off of a shelf and press it on your head.
ChatGPT Drawing a deep breath through the rebreather, I nod to myself, mentally preparing for the upcoming challenge. "Alright, up two levels, towards the center... I can do this." I look around, searching for a way up. After locating what appears to be a ladder leading upwards, I begin my ascent.
User Two levels up you emerge from what seems to be a service hatch. A technician, dressed in torn clothes, looks somewhat surprised when you emerge. "Hello brother. Are the lifts broken?" he asks in Adari, a language you have some familiarity with. Only now do you see the horn protruding from his forehead. "I am trying to avoid someone," you say, with a knowing smile. He gives you a tired smile back. "What is your sector? I want a clean face all day too," he says.
ChatGPT "I work... the ore processors," I reply, making up a role on the spot that seems plausible, considering the location and dirty condition of most workers. "But I'd rather stay away from my boss today. He's been in a foul mood." I'm trying my best to blend in. "Can you point me to the center of the structure?" I ask, hoping the diversion worked.
User "Yeah, 'the structure'. Let's call it that. Sounds nicer than 'prison of the damned'. What do you want at the center, there's only central holding there. I never go near that place. All that wailing. Gives me the shakes," he mutters.
ChatGPT "Oh, I just... wanted to see a friend," I reply, trying to keep my tone light, while inwardly my heart sinks at his description. "Don't worry about it, I'll find my way. Thanks for the chat." I give him a quick nod before heading in the direction he had indicated earlier, hoping I'm making the right choice.
User He wasn't wrong about the wailing. As you follow the corridors, passing along scruffy workers and a couple of guards with face covering helmets who are leaning against a wall, you can hear a lot of yelling, moaning and above all the sound of defiant Klingon opera louder and louder. The voice sounds familiar, but all singing Klingons generally sound alike.
ChatGPT As I continue toward the source of the noise, I find myself in front of a heavily barred door. I can't help but suppress a smile, recognizing the defiant voice as that of Worf. "Computer," I whisper to my tricorder, "Is there a way to shut down the power to this door?"
User The tricorder scans the control panel and warbles optimistically. It then shows a graphic representation of the door, with an arrow pointing at one location and a low energy setting for a phaser.
ChatGPT Taking a moment to look around and confirm that no one is watching, I set my phaser to the recommended setting and aim at the indicated spot on the door. After taking a deep breath, I fire.
User Something inside the door clunks and it opens just enough for the seal to crack. You jam a fingernail behind it, then a finger and eventually you manage to gain enough purchase to open the door. As it slowly opens, you find yourself at the far end of a long row of cells. At the other end is a desk, with a guard sitting behind a monitor. He is staring at it intently. Perhaps the stun setting might be a good idea. You adjust the phaser and take careful aim, when an arm reached out from one of the dark cells and blocks the shot. "Uhm... he's got three buddies in there. You can't see them from here," whispers Captain Sisko.
ChatGPT "I figured you might be here, Captain," I say, lowering my phaser discreetly. "Any ideas for getting you and the rest out without causing a full-on alert?"
User "That depends. Did you bring any weapons?"
ChatGPT "I brought a backpack full of phasers. There should be enough to arm everyone here," I reply, carefully removing the backpack from my shoulder and showing the Captain.
User "Good man. Worf is next to me, then Major Kira. Let Worf take the lead on this. Worf! Help has arrived.' 'Good. I was getting bored with singing,' grumbled a familiar voice. His hand emerges from between the bars, demanding a phaser.
ChatGPT I hand the phaser to Worf, watching as his large hand swallows the device. I then pass phasers to Captain Sisko and Major Kira. With the three of them armed, the odds seem significantly better. Now, we just have to make sure the element of surprise isn't wasted.
User Fifteen seconds later, three guards sink to the floor. Although the phasers were set to stun, nobody seems particularly worried about their health. "Get their uniforms and lock them up," says Sisko. "We can walk out of here. Once we're at the shuttle docks, we can probably find something that flies." "Captain, there are three uniforms and four of us. And the others are housed on another level," says Worf.
ChatGPT "Right. I can stay behind and create a diversion while you three escape. I'll catch up," I offer. "The priority should be to get you three and as many of the others out as we can. We also need to alert Starfleet about this place. I'm sure they'd love to know about a mining facility that's been kidnapping officers."
User "That's a very daring plan, Ensign, but we leave no man behind. Kyra, you and Worf go and find the others and proceed to that place where they searched us. Anyone in uniform is a valid target. And anyone who wants to come along, can do so. The ensign and I will try to find a comms terminal and alert Starfleet. Ensign, I assume you're not alone here?"
ChatGPT "Admiral Benson is aware of the situation, sir. Backup is half a day out. Before we separated, I was under the control of the Tactical Emergency System," I report, glad to see that the Captain is taking charge of the situation.
User "Oh. I had my reservations about that system. Holographic doctors are one thing, but that went a bit too far for my tastes. Okay, phasers for everyone. Bring enough for the others. Ensign, with me."
ChatGPT "Understood, sir," I reply, distributing the remaining phasers to my colleagues and following Captain Sisko down the corridor. As we navigate through the mining facility, I stay alert for any guards or threats that may be in our way. I can feel a sense of hope and determination building up within me - we might actually make it out of here.
User "HALT!" bellows a voice behind us, immediately followed by a reddish phaser burst. The Captain turns on his heels, pushes you out of the way and fires. A guard falls to the floor. The phaser fire was detected by the security system. A klaxon starts blaring and the ceiling lights turn red. A voice starts giving unintelligible instructions over the tannoy. "We need to find a comms panel, Ensign. Any ideas?" asks Sisko, scanning the corridor for more guards. A frightened looking maintenance worker comes to see what's going on, but ducks out of the way as soon as he sees the pair of you.
ChatGPT "I remember seeing a room with a lot of terminals when I was making my way through the facility earlier, sir," I reply, my mind racing. "If memory serves, it's two corridors over, near the scrubber exhausts." I keep my phaser ready and move towards the direction of the room, all the while keeping an eye out for more guards.
User "That's the wrong way, Ensign. I imagine they have more than one place with comms terminals. You cover the rear. Follow me. Put your hand on my shoulder so you can look behind you all the time. If it wears a uniform, it's fair game."
ChatGPT "Yes, sir," I reply, placing my hand on the Captain's shoulder. I pivot and start to walk backwards, keeping my eyes and phaser focused on the path we've just traveled. The constant blaring of the klaxon mixes with the distant shouting and running steps of approaching guards. Despite the adrenaline rush, I manage to keep my aim steady and my breathing calm. The training exercises at the academy never truly prepare you for the real thing, but they do help in maintaining focus.
User You down three guards and accidentally scare the bejeezus out of a woman pushing a cleaning cart, but eventually Sisko stops. "Got it. Stand back while I blast this door." A few seconds later the corridor fills with acrid smoke from a melting door panel. Behind it is a room with several desks.
ChatGPT Entering the room cautiously, I scan the area with my phaser ready. Seeing no immediate threats, I turn my attention to the various panels and screens scattered throughout the space. The room is filled with a myriad of communication equipment - probably a central control hub for managing mining operations, worker communications, and security measures.
"Captain, I think this is it," I say, gesturing to a terminal that seems to be linked to an extensive communications network. "I should be able to send out a distress signal from here." I start to work on the terminal, trying to hack into the system and figure out how to send a message to Starfleet.
User "Try reaching the Defiant," suggest Sisko from the doorway. "OH NO YOU DON'T!" Another guard bites the dust somewhere. "Captain! WE ARE BEHIND HIM!" bellows Worf." "GOOD! Move along, we'll be there shortly. Ensign, how are you getting on?"
ChatGPT "I've managed to break through the initial security layers, Captain," I respond, my fingers moving rapidly over the terminal's interface. "It seems this system has been rigged to only accept authorized codes for communication."
Suddenly, a stroke of inspiration hits me. "Captain, when we first boarded the Defiant, I had to program my authorization codes into the ship's communication systems. If I can find a way to mimic those codes from this terminal... I might be able to trick the Defiant's systems into accepting the distress signal."
I double down on the task, focusing all my attention on reconstructing my authorization codes. As I do so, I keep an eye on the room's entryway, ready to react in case more guards show up.
User The terminal beeps and lights up. You don't understand any of the dials, but with any luck your tricorder can interface with it. Time to hail the Defiant.
ChatGPT "Defiant, this is Ensign," I say, praying the connection holds. "Requesting immediate assistance. The Captain and the crew are here, but we are currently under attack. Coordinates being transmitted now."
A static-filled silence follows. I glance at Sisko, an unspoken question in my gaze. Did it work? Did our message get through?
User "Ensign, this is the Defiant. I can't beam you out of there. Get to the shuttle dock, so that all that ore doesn't block the transporter lock. The USS Rotterdam is thirty minutes out."
ChatGPT "Understood, Defiant. We'll make our way to the shuttle dock. Be ready for us," I reply, exhaling a sigh of relief. I turn to Sisko, updating him with the situation. "Captain, we have to move. The Rotterdam is on its way but we need to get to the shuttle dock for transport."
User Worf's voice comes in through the Captain's commbadge, as it somehow manages to create a local connection. "Worf to Sisko. We have secured the shuttle dock. Mr. O'Brien is injured. Where are you?"
ChatGPT I quickly respond, "This is Ensign [Your Name]. Captain Sisko and I are en route to your position. We'll be there shortly. Hang in there, Chief." With that, I turn to Sisko and suggest, "We should move, Captain."
User "Ensign Markov and I are just behind you, Mr. Worf. Try not to pick us off as we approach. Oh and the Defiant is operating with that emergency command protocol, so it's ready to beam you up. Have Major Kira and the Chief go ahead, if possible. But hold the fort for us." "Understood, Captain. Worf out."
Five minutes and more shooting than is good for a man's digestion you reach the shuttle dock. You literally have to step over a pile of dead guards to get through the door. "Had fun, Mr. Worf? Does your phaser not come with a stun setting?" asks Sisko. "I recognized the men who took us, Sir. My finger must have slipped on the settings dial," growls Worf, looking you over to assess if you're likely to snitch. "It happens," said Sisko matter-of-factly. "Ensign, get us home."
ChatGPT Without any hesitation, I raise my commbadge and say, "Ensign Markov to Defiant. Four to beam up."
User (Okay, take it home. You're all aboard, O'Brien will live, you get a speech and a medal. Write out those events from Markov's perspective and finish off. I'll add something if you pause.)
ChatGPT As the familiar hum and sparkling light of the transporter envelops us, I take one last look at the chaotic scene we're leaving behind. My heart pounds in my chest, not from fear, but from the exhilaration of having faced danger and come out the other side. It's a rush I wasn't expecting.
When we rematerialize aboard the Defiant, a group of medics is waiting for us. They immediately rush to Chief O'Brien, but his smile and light-hearted joke assure me he'll be alright. As I step off the transporter pad, I let out a sigh of relief.
Later, back in my uniform and at a ceremony in the Defiant's Mess Hall, Captain Sisko delivers a speech. He talks about bravery, about loyalty, about the strength of Starfleet and the spirit of those who serve. He doesn't dwell on the danger we faced, but rather the courage it took to face it.
When he calls me up, handing me a medal for bravery under fire, I can't help but feel a swell of pride. The applauding faces of my crewmates, the recognition in their eyes... it's a moment I will never forget. This is why I joined Starfleet, for moments like this. To be part of something greater, to face adversity and stand tall.
"Ensign Markov," Sisko says, offering a handshake along with the medal, "Your courage and quick thinking played a crucial role in our escape. Starfleet is proud to have you among its ranks."
As I return to my quarters that night, medal in hand, I find myself smiling. Yes, today was difficult, even frightening at times. But it was also invigorating, and more than that, it was important. It's a reminder of why I'm here, of why we're all here. To explore, to protect, to boldly go...
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I came across a Reddit thread about a year ago praising this thing to high heaven. I thought "cool, rice in half the time? Sign me up!". The directions state to cook x amount of rice for y amount of time, fluff it with a fork, let sit for 3 minutes, and you're good.
Results have been...extremely poor. They recommend an 800 watt microwave. Mine is 1000. I found a conversion chart, then followed this chart.
Using conversion chart, rice uncooked and about ¾ inch water.
Did not follow conversion chart, same result but about ½ inch of water.
Went for 2 minutes longer than recommended, same result.
Went for 2 minutes longer than recommended, let sit for 3 minutes, fluffed, same result.
I'm coming some right now at 4 minutes longer, we'll see.
Literally the only time it's ever worked was when I cooked it, fluffed it, and then forgot about it for about 15 minutes. But at that point, why wouldn't I just use my normal stove top way?
Is it because I'm in Denver, at 5200 ft of elevation? Is it my microwave not being as good as it says it's supposed to be on the label? Is this device just complete bullshit and I fell for some guerilla marketing? Was an entire Reddit thread making a joke that I didn't get?
I literally bought a new bag of rice this morning to keep trying variations since my wife was getting mad I'm using all her rice.
Any help would be greatly appreciated.
Edit: here is the result from cooking brown rice for 24 minutes, fluff, cover for 3 minutes. Still standing water, but only minimal. My microwave has begun to hate me

Marc gave it another go. He tipped his hand forward. The silver patty rolled off him, dropping toward the cave floor.
It stopped short of hitting the path. The shiny disc halted in the air, dangling at the end of a thin white line.
He watched the small wheel spin. It might have been the most fun he’d had all year. Even more fun than that mud puddle he’d found the other day.
How does it keep going? Marc thought to himself. And without any power??
Marc assumed the disc was some sort of technological marvel from the past. But the Archives had little information on it, only a name. It was called a “yo-yo.”
They all must have had one of these, he posited.
As Marc walked down the stone ramp, he cast the yo-yo again. The toy’s quiet spin was the only sound in the cavern. The soft hiss of string versus metal reverberated gently in the spacious cave.
Marc focused all his attention on the little gadget. He was determined to enjoy every last minute of the universe, no matter what. And that evening, the yo-yo more than accomplished that goal.
The shimmering yo-yo, however, couldn’t prevent the world around him from crumbling. The ground started to rumble. The rest of the cave shook with it. The underground city shook as the plasma storm above battered it—and the rest of the planet.
Marc’s home broke down. Cracks appeared in the ceiling. Waterfalls of dust poured out of them. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing collapsed. That is, if the plasma storm didn’t swallow it whole first.
Whatever.
A few clumps of dirt wouldn’t ruin Marc’s fun. He pulled the hood of his shawl over his head and extended his ragged sleeves toward each hand. His clothes shielded him from the falling dust; the gritty particles made themselves at home on his messy shawl. And Marc was free to perfect his newest trick.
The rumbling died down though as Marc descended the ramp. The yo-yo string didn’t wobble so much, and he didn't have to watch his steps as carefully. He just hoped the quaking wouldn’t come back to ruin his event.
Speaking of which, Marc glanced ahead toward his destination below. What he saw rocked him even harder than the earthquake had.
What in the sinkpits…?
Marc stopped in his tracks. He even started to reach for his knife. All because he’d detected a speck of something suspicious. Something he didn't see much of every day: color.
Showy landmarks weren’t something endemic to his home. The Outpost was more of a dusty gray-and-brown sort of place. The walls were sandstone. The floor was sandstone. And the ceiling? …Granite?
No, sandstone. All under the faint glow of a string of depressed lightbulbs.
The intriguing blip in the gray-and-tan collage was farther up the path. Ahead of the ramp, on Level 8, Marc saw the same three steel doors he was used to seeing. The front doors of underground homes, lined up in a row, each closed into the cave wall.
However, there was something different about the third door. It looked… alive. Like it didn’t belong in a dreary place like the Outpost. But it was too far away to tell what exactly had been done to it.
Marc squinted at it suspiciously. The third door happened to be his destination. And now it was weird.
He considered waiting and observing the mutated door. A child of the Outpost, Marc had developed a healthy fear of the unusual.
These habits, along with his instincts, kept him safe. They’d specifically preserved him while the rest of humanity perished.
But he shrugged off the instinct to wait. Something new and “different” was ahead, and he wanted to see it.
But just as a precaution, it was time for his yo-yo’s last trick. He got in one final throw then placed the toy into his satchel. He dropped it on top of his arsenal of cables, wrenches, and screwdrivers.
And by the time he’d snapped the satchel shut, the long ramp had bottomed out. He’d made it to the next level.
To his left, the wall had been spray-painted. Scrawled-out black letters stood against the sandy background. They stated, “Now Level 8.”
Marc followed the sign. He stayed close to the wall, crossing to the stone pedestrian path. He passed one untouched steel door with a dusted-over mail slot in the wall beside it. Then he passed a second home—abandoned like the first. And finally, he arrived at his friend’s place and the mysterious blip on Level 8.
To his surprise, the steel door elicited a flush of emotion. His heart floated upward. And the portrait before him drew his focus in like an otherworldly beacon.
How did it get so…?
Marc pulled back his hood. The ground popped with the sandy grains he released.
He could hardly believe the difference. The door used to blend in with the others: another ridged steel face that spent most of its time rusting or collecting dirt.
But it was no longer muffled by the dust and dirt that had built up over the years.
Today, it sung. Paint streaks flew across its visage. They swirled and spiraled, forming stars and other shapes. Where previously gray and rust dominated, colors sprang forth—colors that Marc didn't even have the names for. They were many, and they were warm, like the evening sky just after sunset. Marc could hardly wrap his head around the entire image.
He swelled with gratitude.
Only you could have pulled this off. He thought of his friend, the painter. The one person in the colony who’d ever been any fun. The one other person in the colony who was left…
The artist had done the unthinkable. Foraging the garden below for something other than food. Spending work time measuring and concocting the perfect blends of paint. And then slathering their fingers across the giant door, until its old face was but a memory. And all that effort for only a single other person to appreciate.
Newly inspired, Marc searched for an unpainted space on the metal canvas. He found one and knocked on the door.
He took a step back and waited. The outside of the Outpost was lively. Excited wind rushed through the canyon.
By contrast, the Outpost itself was silent. If there was anyone left to say anything, they may have even called it “dead.”
Or nearly dead, anyway. The last morsel of it came to life as the door in front of Marc groaned.
It floated off the ground, inching upward. On the other side, Marc could hear a hand crank clicking away.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The corrugated door lifted, and the door rolled up. The tip of the artist’s painting started to slip from view.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
Behind the door, chains reeled at a slow clip. The heavy curtain was halfway up. Marc could now see his best friend's lower half. Buff Lenorkian legs pumped back and forth with each crank.
The door unveiled even more of the owner. A torso in a metal suit appeared. Four ripped arms stretched out of it. They rotated, moving to the clicking beats of the door.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The door raised a few inches further, uncovering the bottom half of a cobalt blue face. Two rows of razor-sharp teeth smiled from ear to ear. A few inches more, and Marc could see the whole of the Lenorkian’s face.
Sid greeted Marc as the last of the door raised.
“Finally!” he said.
Marc didn’t get a chance to respond. His body lurched forward involuntarily. He slammed into Sid’s metal suit.
Crrrrrick!
The armor squealed as Sid’s upper two arms squeezed him tighter. The lower set of arms had reeled Marc in.
Marc hated hugs. Stupid mushy emotional wraparounds. But just this one final time, Marc returned the gesture. He squeezed Sid back.
“Happy Worlds’ End!” Sid said from the other side of the embrace.
“Yeah,” Marc replied, “Happy Worlds’ End.”
The two separated.
“Cool painting, by the way,” Marc said. He pointed at the rolled-up door. “I didn’t think you’d top the one in the garden.”
“You think so?” Sid sheepishly smiled. “Well I’ve had more time to practice since… you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Marc said. “Me too. That’s how I actually got you something.”
Marc swung his heavy satchel around. He rifled through it, squeezing through cables, knocking handles and parts out of the way. And then—ah.
He fished out a crumpled rag. Holding it in one hand, he began to gently unfold it.
“I found this a few days ago in the garden,” he said. The edges of the cloth fell. They revealed a small, glass object. It sparkled.
Marc continued, “I think it fits your style—I mean, I know it’s a little smudged and chipped but...”
He swirled the crystal trinket around. The cavern’s incandescent light flittered across its clear edges.
He touched it too, tracing the slender portion of it with his thumb. It was the neck of the crystal swan.
“It’s yours,” Marc said, offering up the bird.
Sid cupped two shovel-sized hands and accepted the gift.
“It’s beautiful…” he said, examining it. “I can’t believe anything like this could have survived this long.” He looked up at Marc and smiled, “Thank you so much. I just wish I had a little longer to could enjoy it.”
They chuckled lightly about their impending obliteration.
“Well, come on in,” Sid said. He extended both of his left arms. They gestured toward the cave interior. “We’ll finish off this universe how it started,” he said. He mashed his upper two fists together. “With a bang!”
“I hear that!” Marc nodded. He crossed over into Sid’s house.
As Marc passed Sid, a wave of discomfort hit him. Sid had switched out his usual t-shirt and jeans. He wore old armor instead. And the metal plating taunted Marc.
Marc’s next question came out more accusatory than curious.
“So… a Lenorkian throwback, huh?” he asked Sid.
Sid had just finished finding the perfect home for his swan. He left it on a shelf next to the front door.
He turned to face Marc. He hid his embarrassment behind a jagged smile.
“Oh!” he said. “Uhhh…” Three of Sid’s arms disappeared behind his back. The cone-shaped cuffs at the end of each wrist clanked against the back of his chest armor. The fourth arm nervously scratched his blue head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It's stupid, I guess. I can take it off… if you want.”
Marc didn’t want to address the topic head-on. He stopped in the cave’s entry. He pretended to admire the walls—as if he’d never seen sandstone before.
“No, leave it on,” he said. “You look… like a true Lenorkian.” He turn around and forced a smile.
It wasn’t enough.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” Sid said. He marched up to Marc.
Sid took a deep breath before he spoke.
“Tonight's really important to me,” he continued. “This is the last impression anyone’s going to make on the universe. So I need you on board.” He continued staring down at Marc. “Can you do that? For me?”
Marc didn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a couple of best friends hanging out.
“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. “End it the way it started.”
The exchange turned into awkward silence. Neither knew what to do next. They had never been in a situation like this before—never attended such an event. What the Archives called: a par-ty.
Sid shook off the figurative mask he’d been wearing—one that was uncharacteristically dour. His eyes lightened, and he bobbed his head knowingly.
“I went through the Archives to see how this works,” he said. He walked toward the long horizontal counter against the wall—the kitchen.
On the counter, chaos ran wild. Bowls and kitchenware spread across the surface. And the insides of his pots and pans resembled the dirty mouth of a garbage chute.
Marc wasn’t sure what to think. Was cleaning the host’s kitchen a staple of ancient parties?
Sid too seemed a bit confused. His next words came out robotically, as if he was practicing a new word he’d learned.
“’Can-I-offer-you-a-drink?’” Sid asked. He stood nervously in front of the counter.
Looking closer at it, three unusual objects stood apart from the kitchenware mess. It took Marc a while to remember what their outdated, bendy material was called.
Plastic. Three pink and plastic cups sat equidistant from one another.
“I got these from here,” Sid reached under the counter and pulled up some sort of transparent bag. Pink cups just liked the others were stacked on top of each other inside.
Sid packed the bag back under the counter.
“So?” he asked after he finished. He held all four hands together in anticipation. His smile may have looked like an industrial-grade rock shredder, but it was hard to resist his innocent blue face and big wide eyes.
Marc eyed the pink cups one last time.
“This better not kill me,” he said.
Sid wasted no time. He excitedly grabbed a cup and walked over to a large pot sitting on the counter.
Using a nearby ladle, he plunged into the vat. An unappetizing sloshing sound resulted. And Sid, as strong as he was, seemed to struggle with scooping out some of the mystery liquid. But in the end, he pulled back the ladle and unloaded an opaque, muddy liquid into the cup.
“It's a homeworld classic called fludge,” Sid said as he finished pouring.
He treaded over to his reluctant friend and handed off the plastic cup.
“Did you say ‘fludge’?” Marc asked. He swished the cup around cautiously. The earthy liquid hardly budged.
“Yeah, fludge! Us Lenorkians invented it. It’s kind of the only tasty thing we ever bothered to make.”
Marc sniffed it. It smelled… burnt? Maybe a little dusty, too? But he could have just been smelling the cave.
Sid left Marc alone with Marc’s questionable new assignment. He returned to the pot to pour himself a drink.
“Just try it!” he said.
Marc looked down again at the dark soup. It could kill him. Or maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, it was his last drink.
He took a timid sip and waited to be repulsed. The fludge trickled to the back of his tongue. As it hit, Marc’s eyes widened. But not with regret.
He swallowed.
“Now wait a minute…” he said. He smacked his lips together. Then he took another, larger sip.
This curious dark liquid had a unique taste to it. The taste was earthen—but unoffending. It also had a subtle undercurrent of sweetness to it, combined with a spicy kick. It was delicious.
“This might be the best drink in the entire Outpost!” Marc exclaimed.
Pure joy bloomed on Sid’s face. “See! I told you: the greatest thing we ever made.”
He held his own cup above his open jaws. The falling fludge was no match for the alien. He guzzled it down, licked his lips, and then went back for more.
As Sid fashioned himself another drink, Marc noticed something a tad unsettling. A third pink cup stared back at him. It prompted an uncomfortable thought, but he shoved the thought back down.
The Lenorkian carried back his second drink. Though this time, he took it in small, human-sized sips.
But he quickly reanimated. In the middle of a sip, Sid got a wild look in his eyes. His irises turned from their natural violet to scarlet. He yanked the cup from his face and swallowed.
“Argh, how did I forget?” he said. “I got music!”
Marc cut his sip short too. “No way. You got music?”
“I think so!”
Sid did an about face. He slammed the half-empty cup on the counter. Then he shuffled toward a giant metal column protruding from the far wall. Four ink-blue hands wrapped around the cover of the vent. And he went for it.
Sid struggled to pull off the cover of the vent at first. His armor ballooned around his biceps as his muscles bulged outward. Yet the cover wouldn't budge.
But it seemed like an important part of his evening plans. He scolded the stubborn vent, banging on its top.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” he said. He latched onto the vent again.
This time, he put even more effort in. To the point where Marc sensed that Sid was losing a grip on his own body. Out of his forehead, two thumb-sized cones began to rise. His breathing turned low and raspy. And his whole body seemed to expand as he repositioned himself for leverage. Then with one final pull, like a wild beast, he let out of a deep, guttural roar.
“HAWRRRRRRRRRRRGGH!” The roar echoed off the cave walls.
And with that, the stubborn vent cover finally popped off. A breath of wind pulsed through the room as the air pressure equalized itself.
But the wind wasn’t finished. After the initial pulse exited, a mighty gust picked up where the original pulse left off. The vent shot more wind into the room, but rapidly, like a storm. Tiny coarse particles rattled inside the duct. And in the room, a rush of wind whipped past Marc’s face. He felt little nips across his exposed skin as it passed him.
Both partiers shielded their faces from the most direct blasts of air. Sid smiled nervously as he looked to Marc. He raised his voice over the whining airstream.
“It’s from the sandplains above!” he said in an elevated voice. “I thought we’d use the sandstorm for music! Do you like it?”
Music… Marc wasn’t exactly an expert. Even though humans were said to be naturals at it, not much on the subject had made it into the Archives. The Outpost didn’t have much of it either. The closest he got was the occasional chant, stray birds twittering about, or maybe someone banging on rocks.
But Marc did know one thing on the subject. Where there was music, there was dancing.
That said, he had never danced before either. But a long time ago, his parents told him it was something all humans could do. It was something they carried in their blood. Once humans found a pattern in music, they could match it to their body language. And once they’d synced melody and movement, they could ride that wave to a whole new experience.
Might as well give it a shot, he thought. Marc too put his cup on the counter.
With his hands free, Marc backed up toward the middle of the room. He closed his eyes, felt the wind. It filled his ears with its gusty energy. It hit him in pumps as the storm raged above.
Though not totally predictable, the wind did hit him consistently. There was some sort of kinetic pattern to it.
Yes, a pattern.
Well actually, he’d heard it called by another name. What was that word his mother had used? He opened his eyes when he remembered: rhythm.
Marc stretched out his arms. He relaxed his hips. He felt the wind’s whips and waves across his arms. He let his arms follow them, swaying with the current. Not long after, his hips joined in. They too gyrated, trying to match the energetic gusts. He kept at it. And the first time Marc felt both himself and the wind moving together, he grinned.
“This is amazing!” he said. Around them, the wind crooned.
Sid was entranced. He nodded back while staring at Marc’s strange movements. He’d never really seen dancing either. But he figured he would give it a shot too. He loosened up his arms and walked onto the dance floor with Marc.
Before dancing himself, he studied Marc first. He watched how the scavenger moved his arms—and when the scavenger moved his arms.
Sid’s limbs followed. Four muscular arms rose in the air, like fighter jets on their way to a dogfight. And on a one or two second delay, they swayed after Marc’s.
For a while, they followed Marc completely. Then Sid went down his own path. The Lenorkian’s movements grew aggressive and battle-like. He punched at the wind swiping across him. He shuffled his feet as if swapping battle stances.
He caught Marc’s curiosity. Even as a novice, Marc could tell Sid’s movements weren’t traditional by any means. But to Marc, it was dancing all the same.
The two danced to the chorus of the air above. They laughed occasionally as changes in the rhythm of the wind tripped them up. In his head, Marc compared it to the painting on Sid’s door. The colony had never seen anything like this either.
Then something interrupted their dancing. The ground beneath them shook, throwing them off their feet. Heavy gray dirt trickled from the ceiling as the entire cave rumbled. And outside, the distant sky flashed and crackled. Its light illuminated the cave in violent spurts as the boys struggled to stand back up.
Eventually, the violent quaking and frightening flashes died down. The plasma storm held its breath once again.
The boys got back on their feet, but all the joy had seeped out of Sid’s face. He just stared at the floor in deep contemplation. Even as the windy music started back up.
Marc figured he would rescue his friend from whatever dark thoughts had turned up. Naturally, the end of the universe was a real bummer.
“End of the world got you down, huh?” He tried to laugh it off. The whole situation was pretty sad. Especially when they were having so much fun. But it was best to end the universe on a high note, right?
Nevertheless, Sid seemed dejected. He mumbled something inaudible.
“Dude, I can’t hear over the song!” Marc said in an elevated voice.
Sid spoke up over the wind. “That’s not what I’m upset about,” he said, his voice still fairly low.
“Then what are you upset about?”
Sid blurted out his response. “Because I invited Tōn-E, okay?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look Marc in the eye. Because he knew what was coming.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Marc shouted over the music. Marc himself stomped over to the vent. He picked the cover off the floor—though he struggled quite a bit with it. It was heavier than Sid made it look. But he hoisted it back into the mouth of the vent. The music shut off. The steady drop of sand on the cave floor ceased.
“Say that again,” he leveled in Sid’s direction.
“What was I supposed to do?” Sid remade eye contact. “Not invite the only other intelligent being to the last party the universe will ever have?”
Marc needed no time to answer. He nodded insistently. “Yes. That was exactly what you were supposed to do. What the hell, Sid?” Marc would have continued, but there was another disturbance outside. He caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway.
--
Thanks for reading some of my words :) I’m trying stuff out, so let me know what you think.
The rest of the story is here
Based on a prompt by eithrotaur

I've been looking for you forever. I've been wanting you forever. All my life I've wanted someone who knew me, every detail, good and bad. I've wanted someone to love and someone to love me back. Call me old school but I want us to spend the rest of our lives loving each other ❤️
I want us to grow together, make a family together and learn new things together. I'm sure we've both been drifting through life wondering if there's something better, something more, someone perfect.
To everyone else we're not perfect, there's something wrong with us, too introverted, humour too dark, too nerdy, plays too many video games, has one too many takeaways and watches too many movies that we quote movie lines back to each other and laugh at because we're that ridiculous but we love it because to each other we're perfect.
Hopefully this is where we find each other, this is the day where you slide into my inbox and go "Hello Darling, I'm Here", let this be the day we start our adventure, our paths cross and never uncross instead our paths entwine, never splitting, never growing apart, just growing closer and closer together as the years go by.
Before we do that though, let's get the introductions out of the way, my name surprisingly is not my username and I'm sure the same can be said about you, either way it's nice to meet you [INSERT NAME HERE], you have a beautiful name 😘
As we're meeting through the magic of the vast complex internet I'm interested to know where you're from, I'm from the UK so I'm one of those British people who have the fancy accent and like to take things that aren't theirs and refuse to give them back! Speaking of taking things can I take your hand and take you on an adventure for a first date? Go Karting? Bowling? People Watching? Just walking around getting to know each other? Where would you like to go?
Although we have all the time in the world to get to know each other let's find out the basics, I'm a 27 year old Male with an Aquarius Star sign and INTP-A personality type, the star sign and personality type are not important to me in a match, though I'm interested to hear your side of things regarding these, are you a believer in star sign compatibility?
Looks wise I have one thing to say, you're beautiful inside and out, don't let anyone tell you otherwise 😘 But in terms of looks, if you want to imagine me, think Tom Holland, are you imagining him? Okay good, now scrap that and think of this, I have short brown hair, blue eyes, a dad bod, I'm 6'0, slight stubble and good bum (apparently), that's me haha. What do you look like? If you want I'm happy to swap pictures just so we know what we actually look like instead of imagining.
But yeah, I think the basics are done and hopefully you're reading this like, "I must message him, he sounds a delight!" If so, please do, maybe we are soulmates, maybe we can spend the rest of our lives together?
As we've come this far let's find out how much more we have in common, maybe you'll read the below and think you're reading an autobiography because we have that much in common? Shall we see?
I have a full time job so that's my social life, I occasionally go out on weekends but not nearly enough for that to be called a social life. Instead I'd rather stay home and watch a movie, TV, YouTube or play video games.
Though if you want to know what media I like let's see if we match;
Movies - MCU, Scarface, Harry Potter, James Bond, Resident Evil, Austin Powers, Ghostbusters, John Wick, Matrix, Twilight and more!
TV - Doctor Who, Supernatural, Absolutely Fabulous, Taskmaster, Mandolorian, Parks And Recreation, The Office, Breaking Bad, Game Of Thrones and more!
YouTube - Sidemen, Yogscast, Syndicate, Jesse Cox, Call Me Kevin, Modest Pelican and again,more!
Games (video and board) - Monopoly, Cluedo, COD, Far Cry, Elder Scrolls, Mafia, Dark Pictures Anthology, Assassin's Creed, GTA, Forza, Dead Rising, Resident Evil and you guessed it, many more haha!
But the above is not everything I do as I also like to go on walks so it would be nice to have a walking partner though maybe it could turn into a hiking partner? I like cooking and make a good Spaghetti Bolognese. I can clean lol, I'm quite domesticated when it comes down to it lol. I'm also a keen gardener and like to keep a tidy garden.
What else is there, I suppose it's worth mentioning I can drive (people up the wall with bad jokes), I can write (see this post where I've gone on and on) and I can be very open minded 😉 Which is something best left to a private conversation.
Erm, so.... Yeah? I think that's it, though if you have any questions then feel free to ask, my inbox is free for public use, though not in that way? Or it might be? Who knows it's an inbox, anyone can message haha 😂 But yeah, oh it's also worth stating that I am open to long distance though that may have been hinted at before. But yeah, this is definitely it, the end of the post, I suppose the last thing to say is, if I sound like your perfect partner, your idea of a soulmate then message me, let's cross our paths and start our journey.

I've been looking for you forever. I've been wanting you forever. All my life I've wanted someone who knew me, every detail, good and bad. I've wanted someone to love and someone to love me back. Call me old school but I want us to spend the rest of our lives loving each other ❤️
I want us to grow together, make a family together and learn new things together. I'm sure we've both been drifting through life wondering if there's something better, something more, someone perfect.
To everyone else we're not perfect, there's something wrong with us, too introverted, humour too dark, too nerdy, plays too many video games, has one too many takeaways and watches too many movies that we quote movie lines back to each other and laugh at because we're that ridiculous but we love it because to each other we're perfect.
Hopefully this is where we find each other, this is the day where you slide into my inbox and go "Hello Darling, I'm Here", let this be the day we start our adventure, our paths cross and never uncross instead our paths entwine, never splitting, never growing apart, just growing closer and closer together as the years go by.
Before we do that though, let's get the introductions out of the way, my name surprisingly is not my username and I'm sure the same can be said about you, either way it's nice to meet you [INSERT NAME HERE], you have a beautiful name 😘
As we're meeting through the magic of the vast complex internet I'm interested to know where you're from, I'm from the UK so I'm one of those British people who have the fancy accent and like to take things that aren't theirs and refuse to give them back! Speaking of taking things can I take your hand and take you on an adventure for a first date? Go Karting? Bowling? People Watching? Just walking around getting to know each other? Where would you like to go?
Although we have all the time in the world to get to know each other let's find out the basics, I'm a 27 year old Male with an Aquarius Star sign and INTP-A personality type, the star sign and personality type are not important to me in a match, though I'm interested to hear your side of things regarding these, are you a believer in star sign compatibility?
Looks wise I have one thing to say, you're beautiful inside and out, don't let anyone tell you otherwise 😘 But in terms of looks, if you want to imagine me, think Tom Holland, are you imagining him? Okay good, now scrap that and think of this, I have short brown hair, blue eyes, a dad bod, I'm 6'0, slight stubble and good bum (apparently), that's me haha. What do you look like? If you want I'm happy to swap pictures just so we know what we actually look like instead of imagining.
But yeah, I think the basics are done and hopefully you're reading this like, "I must message him, he sounds a delight!" If so, please do, maybe we are soulmates, maybe we can spend the rest of our lives together?
As we've come this far let's find out how much more we have in common, maybe you'll read the below and think you're reading an autobiography because we have that much in common? Shall we see?
I have a full time job so that's my social life, I occasionally go out on weekends but not nearly enough for that to be called a social life. Instead I'd rather stay home and watch a movie, TV, YouTube or play video games.
Though if you want to know what media I like let's see if we match;
Movies - MCU, Scarface, Harry Potter, James Bond, Resident Evil, Austin Powers, Ghostbusters, John Wick, Matrix, Twilight and more!
TV - Doctor Who, Supernatural, Absolutely Fabulous, Taskmaster, Mandolorian, Parks And Recreation, The Office, Breaking Bad, Game Of Thrones and more!
YouTube - Sidemen, Yogscast, Syndicate, Jesse Cox, Call Me Kevin, Modest Pelican and again,more!
Games (video and board) - Monopoly, Cluedo, COD, Far Cry, Elder Scrolls, Mafia, Dark Pictures Anthology, Assassin's Creed, GTA, Forza, Dead Rising, Resident Evil and you guessed it, many more haha!
But the above is not everything I do as I also like to go on walks so it would be nice to have a walking partner though maybe it could turn into a hiking partner? I like cooking and make a good Spaghetti Bolognese. I can clean lol, I'm quite domesticated when it comes down to it lol. I'm also a keen gardener and like to keep a tidy garden.
What else is there, I suppose it's worth mentioning I can drive (people up the wall with bad jokes), I can write (see this post where I've gone on and on) and I can be very open minded 😉 Which is something best left to a private conversation.
Erm, so.... Yeah? I think that's it, though if you have any questions then feel free to ask, my inbox is free for public use, though not in that way? Or it might be? Who knows it's an inbox, anyone can message haha 😂 But yeah, oh it's also worth stating that I am open to long distance though that may have been hinted at before. But yeah, this is definitely it, the end of the post, I suppose the last thing to say is, if I sound like your perfect partner, your idea of a soulmate then message me, let's cross our paths and start our journey.

I've been looking for you forever. I've been wanting you forever. All my life I've wanted someone who knew me, every detail, good and bad. I've wanted someone to love and someone to love me back. Call me old school but I want us to spend the rest of our lives loving each other ❤️
I want us to grow together, make a family together and learn new things together. I'm sure we've both been drifting through life wondering if there's something better, something more, someone perfect.
To everyone else we're not perfect, there's something wrong with us, too introverted, humour too dark, too nerdy, plays too many video games, has one too many takeaways and watches too many movies that we quote movie lines back to each other and laugh at because we're that ridiculous but we love it because to each other we're perfect.
Hopefully this is where we find each other, this is the day where you slide into my inbox and go "Hello Darling, I'm Here", let this be the day we start our adventure, our paths cross and never uncross instead our paths entwine, never splitting, never growing apart, just growing closer and closer together as the years go by.
Before we do that though, let's get the introductions out of the way, my name surprisingly is not my username and I'm sure the same can be said about you, either way it's nice to meet you [INSERT NAME HERE], you have a beautiful name 😘
As we're meeting through the magic of the vast complex internet I'm interested to know where you're from, I'm from the UK so I'm one of those British people who have the fancy accent and like to take things that aren't theirs and refuse to give them back! Speaking of taking things can I take your hand and take you on an adventure for a first date? Go Karting? Bowling? People Watching? Just walking around getting to know each other? Where would you like to go?
Although we have all the time in the world to get to know each other let's find out the basics, I'm a 27 year old Male with an Aquarius Star sign and INTP-A personality type, the star sign and personality type are not important to me in a match, though I'm interested to hear your side of things regarding these, are you a believer in star sign compatibility?
Looks wise I have one thing to say, you're beautiful inside and out, don't let anyone tell you otherwise 😘 But in terms of looks, if you want to imagine me, think Tom Holland, are you imagining him? Okay good, now scrap that and think of this, I have short brown hair, blue eyes, a dad bod, I'm 6'0, slight stubble and good bum (apparently), that's me haha. What do you look like? If you want I'm happy to swap pictures just so we know what we actually look like instead of imagining.
But yeah, I think the basics are done and hopefully you're reading this like, "I must message him, he sounds a delight!" If so, please do, maybe we are soulmates, maybe we can spend the rest of our lives together?
As we've come this far let's find out how much more we have in common, maybe you'll read the below and think you're reading an autobiography because we have that much in common? Shall we see?
I have a full time job so that's my social life, I occasionally go out on weekends but not nearly enough for that to be called a social life. Instead I'd rather stay home and watch a movie, TV, YouTube or play video games.
Though if you want to know what media I like let's see if we match;
Movies - MCU, Scarface, Harry Potter, James Bond, Resident Evil, Austin Powers, Ghostbusters, John Wick, Matrix, Twilight and more!
TV - Doctor Who, Supernatural, Absolutely Fabulous, Taskmaster, Mandolorian, Parks And Recreation, The Office, Breaking Bad, Game Of Thrones and more!
YouTube - Sidemen, Yogscast, Syndicate, Jesse Cox, Call Me Kevin, Modest Pelican and again,more!
Games (video and board) - Monopoly, Cluedo, COD, Far Cry, Elder Scrolls, Mafia, Dark Pictures Anthology, Assassin's Creed, GTA, Forza, Dead Rising, Resident Evil and you guessed it, many more haha!
But the above is not everything I do as I also like to go on walks so it would be nice to have a walking partner though maybe it could turn into a hiking partner? I like cooking and make a good Spaghetti Bolognese. I can clean lol, I'm quite domesticated when it comes down to it lol. I'm also a keen gardener and like to keep a tidy garden.
What else is there, I suppose it's worth mentioning I can drive (people up the wall with bad jokes), I can write (see this post where I've gone on and on) and I can be very open minded 😉 Which is something best left to a private conversation.
Erm, so.... Yeah? I think that's it, though if you have any questions then feel free to ask, my inbox is free for public use, though not in that way? Or it might be? Who knows it's an inbox, anyone can message haha 😂 But yeah, oh it's also worth stating that I am open to long distance though that may have been hinted at before. But yeah, this is definitely it, the end of the post, I suppose the last thing to say is, if I sound like your perfect partner, your idea of a soulmate then message me, let's cross our paths and start our journey.

https://edition.cnn.com/2023/06/03/politics/tennessee-drag-ban-law-unconstitutional/index.html
A federal judge in Tennessee has ruled that a state law limiting public drag show performances represented an “unconstitutional restriction on the freedom of speech.”
“As a matter of text alone, the (Adult Entertainment Act) is a content, and viewpoint-based restriction on speech. The AEA was passed for the impermissible purpose of chilling constitutionally-protected speech,” US District Court Judge Thomas Parker, an appointee of former President Donald Trump, said in a 70-page late-Friday ruling.
Parker, who called the law “unconstitutionally vague and substantially overbroad,” also barred the defendant in the case – the district attorney of Shelby County, which is home to Memphis – from enforcing the law in that county.
The court ruling comes after Friends of George’s, a Memphis-based nonprofit that produces drag performances and comedy sketches, sued in March to stop the law from going into effect, arguing it was a violation of its free speech. Parker then temporarily blocked the state from enforcing the ban as he considered the law’s constitutionality.
Tennessee Republicans, who hold supermajorities in the state legislature, earlier this year passed the measure to restrict public drag show performances, which was signed by Republican Gov. Bill Lee. The law sought to limit “adult cabaret performances” on public property to shield children from viewing them, threatening violators with a misdemeanor and repeat offenders with a felony. The ban specifically included “male or female impersonators” who perform in a way that is “harmful to minors.” It had been set to go into effect April 1.
“WE WON!” Friends of George’s wrote in a tweet Saturday. “Judge Parker has declared Tennessee’s anti-drag law unconstitutional!”
Tennessee officials have argued that the measure is not a full ban and is only intended to stop overtly sexual performances in front of minors. Parker, in his ruling, acknowledged the state’s “compelling interest in protecting the psychological and physical wellbeing of children” but ruled against the law as “an unconstitutional restriction on the freedom of speech.”
Tennessee Attorney General Jonathan Skrmetti said in a statement Saturday that his office was reviewing the order and expects to appeal “at the appropriate time.”
“The scope of this law has been misrepresented in public by those more interested in pressing a narrative than in reading the statutory text,” Skrmetti said. “The Adult Entertainment Act remains in effect outside of Shelby County. This narrowly-tailored law protects minors from exposure to sexually explicit performances. Its operative language is rooted in the U.S. Supreme Court’s long-established First Amendment precedent.”
CNN has also reached out to Lee’s office for comment.
Tennessee’s law is just one of a slew of other similar measures that Republican-led state legislatures across the country have considered this year.
Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, who is running for president, signed a bill last month that, among other things, gives his administration the power to take away licenses from establishments if they allow children into an “adult live performance,” widely interpreted as a crackdown on drag shows.
Montana Gov. Greg Gianforte signed legislation in May that prevents children from attending “sexually oriented shows” and from being present at obscene performances on public property. It specifically targets drag story hours, which it defines as “an event hosted by a drag queen or drag king who reads children’s books and engages in other learning activities with minor children present.”
Republicans say the performances – which often feature men dressing as women in exaggerated makeup while singing or entertaining a crowd, though some shows feature bawdier content – expose children to sexual themes and imagery that are inappropriate. LGBTQ advocates, however, argue that not all drag shows are sexual in nature and laws such as the ones in Montana and Tennessee stigmatize the community and could violate the First Amendment.

“What if we hiked the waterfall trail at night?”
“What?” I just finished putting a brown trout on my stringer. John has always had some crazy ideas but that just sounded like a bad idea.
“Yeah man, it would be neat to say we did it.”
Dakota chimed in. “It sounds scary.” I agreed.
Ian spoke up. “I guess I’d give it a try.”
In theory, it wouldn’t be hard to pull off. I’m sure a park ranger wouldn’t approve but they wouldn’t catch us either. They always check in with the campers before they go back to the ranger station where they sit around in case of emergencies. But it sounds way too scary.
The four of us have been camping at this state park since we were teenagers. We have a lot of great and funny stories over the years. I’ve been hiking these trails and swimming since I was a kid. They got plenty of trails but the one they want to hike is the most popular. We try to do this every couple of months.
“Unless you’re scared. I guess you could sit at the site while the big dogs have an adventure.”
“Shut up, John.”
We spent the afternoon prepping and getting ready to cook the fish and the sun was starting to set.
Ian set down his drink. “So we gonna do this?” They all were nodding along at this point. I didn’t want to be alone either so I agreed to go.
We waited as the park ranger stopped by everyone’s tent and told us to be safe and where the station is if we need a ranger for anything. It’s the time of year where snakes are in the park and we’re a whiles away from a hospital.
We put out the fire and made our way to a small trail that would take us to the main parking lot. We all grabbed flashlights and I went in my glove box and grabbed my 9mm.
We didn’t speak at all hardly until we got to the parking area before turning off our flashlights. We made sure no rangers were in the area and we snuck off to the trail.
We eventually turned our flashlights back on and began up the trail. We talked pretty quietly for a while. It wasn’t going to be a long walk, maybe two miles.
It’s hard to describe how eerie it felt to me during the walk. Noises seem louder. It’s like the calm and soothing river now sounds like it’s screaming at me. The beautiful scenery was a void and made me feel small and helpless. There wasn’t going to be any fellow hikers, just us. No help if needed.
Dakota told us a story his grandfather told him as a child about a witch that roamed the hills. People would claim she would hunt people down and eat them or sacrifice them.
They all thought it was funny, but I didn’t. I swear I was hearing twigs snapping and seeing shadows move through darkness. Even the trees looked more crooked.
We made it to the waterfall and made small talk. We all took a picture on my phone and began walking back down the trail. The guys acted like I was crazy for being so scared. I felt more confident, everything was going fine. It felt like. Conquering fear.
The walk back started feeling more at ease until a few times our flashlights all went out at the same time. We were able to tinker with them and get them going again. I felt my stomach drop when I seen some flashlights coming on the other side of the trail.
They definitely seen ours too. We figured maybe it was park rangers who got curious and we’d have to talk our way out of not being banished. The closer we got, it wasn’t rangers.
It was kids. Probably about thirteen or so. They gave us a quick glance and Dakota tried to talk to them.
“Hey kids, where’s your parents? Wouldn’t want them to worry. The walk is a little spooky.” I had every intention of going to a ranger station and telling them. We weren’t far from the parking lot.
They just kept walking though. John was hollering for them to stop but they didn’t even look back at us.
Ian was shivering and whispered to me. “I think those kids had black eyes.”
“What?”
“Like pure black.”
About that time I heard foot prints stomping towards us. By the time I turned around the knocked down John. He began screaming.
Dakota tried pulling a kid off of John. One of them punched Dakota so hard he flew up and hit a tree. He wasn’t moving.
I pulled out my pistol and pointed at the kids. “Get off him!” One walked towards me. I shot in the ground once. He didn’t even flinch. He started getting taller. Whatever that thing was had to be about seven feet tall. I shot at it. It didn’t phase it.
Ian grabbed my arm and told me to run. I looked back at John and one of those things was swallowing him whole. It was like a snake slowly covering over another.
We ran as fast as we could. “What about Dakota.”
“Man, we gotta get ourselves help first.” He tripped. I tried to stop but another one of those things grabbed him and began tugging him away. I fired twice more and missed.
I was hoping the gunshots would at least alarm a ranger something was happening. One of those things was right behind me.
I fell. I don’t remember much of it either. But I remember hitting some thorny bushes and my head hitting a rock before falling in water.
I woke up in my tent, it was morning. I scrambled to figure out what was going on until I heard voices outside the tent. It was the guys.
They were all sitting out by the fire eating some breakfast. I crawled out and sat on my chair.
“This doesn’t make sense?”
John gave me a smile. “Yeah man, you drank a bunch of whiskey last night and had too many shrooms. You conked out pretty early.”
My clothes weren’t damp. I walked to my truck and checked the magazine in my pistol, it was full. It wasn’t making any sense.
I drank some coffee and looked through my photos. I found the selfie we took at the waterfall. I began staring at got nervous. It looked like an old woman standing above the waterfall , somewhat hidden. I heard all the guys chuckling.
I look up and their eyes are pitch black. They all stood up. Ian smiled and his voice sounded distorted.
“If you want to save your friends, come to the waterfall tonight.”
They walked to the shallow stream next to our site and went under. They didn’t come back up.
I’m really scared right now. I’m going to head up there tonight. I’ll update you as I can

​
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Hi, Please excuse the broadness of my question here. I'll try to give enough detail to make it answerable.
I've been to Socal a few times. LA once, San Diego twice. Had a good time. Particularly liked La Jolla in SD, where we stayed the last time. Hopefully that helps with the "vibe" we like. We tend to prefer quiet areas, ideally with good dining, and despite not being old, we're not partiers and usually get along just fine amongst affluent senior residents, haha. We also really like to be near beaches/water. We like to be nea visit bars, restaurants, cities, etc but would prefer quiet and subdued over active and loud in terms of lodging.
We're considering a late December trip somewhere, and mid to Northern CA is a contender. We'd like to see the Napa Valley, and I'd really like to drive the PCH down through Big Sur. I'd like to visit some of the rocky beaches, state parks, etc. We'd potentially make some specific, curated stops in the Bay area, but SF doesn't really appeal to me as a place to set up home base for the week. We would definitely be renting a car. I know this isn't an ideal weather time, but it's the only week we can do logistically. Due to the weather, I don't think we'd go too far north, as from what I can tell, it just gets more rainy and stereotypically Pacific North Western this time of the year as you approach Oregon.
Now for my question: given this info about our preferences and the time of year, does anyone have recommendations as to areas we'd want to look into for lodging? We'd be looking for middle of the road lodgings price wise. Probably not under 100/night, definitely not over 250ish/night.
Carmel by the Sea seems no more than a couple hours away from any of the places we'd visit, and it looks like our vibe, although I know it's small and it doesn't look like there's even a ton of basics like restaurants and coffee shops.
I'd love to hear input from others who knows this region of the country.

I recently moved back to Utah after a 1 year hiatus in Oregon and was greeted with an ad for a survey not long after: https://guidingourgrowth.utah.gov/
Reading through the FAQs, it seems like the effort comes from (or at least is heavily supported by) the state government, and is generally pro-development, though the survey does include NIMBY response options.
If you're from Utah (or if you're not from Utah and don't mind a bit of dishonesty), you should take some time to fill it out.
I hope this makes some waves at the state level. Even if it doesn't, anecdotally some positive changes seem to be happening. Rent growth seems to have at least stopped accelerating, probably because developers are building large apartment complexes anywhere they can fit them (I counted at least 5 taking the frontrunner from Ogden to Draper). Now if only they could work on improving walkability and transit...
Related post from 5 years ago for historical context: https://www.reddit.com/yimby/comments/9yv3d2/in_our_opinion_exploding_growth_in_utah_valley/