This is a strange one. I broke down with starter motor failure on Friday evening and today I replaced the starter motor and the car starts just fine now. One thing that has happened though is that the heater blower fan for the climate control has stopped working. I don't think that the two events are related, but the fan not working has me scratching my head. I found a slightly melted 30A fuse (F22?) in the fusebox at the side of the dashboard (the fuse is intact though, it's not blown) and I've replaced it with a new one, but the handbook states that this should be a 40A fuse. I've stuck a 30A in for now but I still get no blower. The air con switch lights up when I press it and I can hear the air con pump turn on and off.
Are there any other fuses that I need to check? I've searched for fuse box diagrams and have found loads of them but they seem to have the fuse box images reversed, as if it's Europe or the US, not the UK. My dashboard fuse box is on the right. The numbers of fuses are also different.
The blower was running right up until I parked up and I came back to no starter motor on the key.
I'm confused at this point, how do I trouble shoot this?

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.

Ok guys and gals, I'm stumped. My wife's car, '14 Escape SE 1.6L Ecoboost 60k miles, has been having recurring overheating problems the past month. A year and a half ago I had to replace the cylinder head temp sensor and it's pigtail connector. Everything fine since then. A few weeks ago she started getting regular overheat warnings, low coolant warnings and going into limp mode.
I changed out the thermostat/ housing (one self contained unit if you didn't know) and one of the radiator hoses in which I found was cracked and slowly leaking (small diameter crossover line w/ 3 branches to degas bottle, back of head and radiator).
I've bled and topped off the system, levels are as they should be, water pump works fine. Still she gets an overheat condition when driving for longer than 20 minutes, especially with the ac on high. I've found no signs of coolant and oil mixing, so I don't think it's the head gasket.
Any help is appreciated.

The other day I was ordering takeout from a restaurant that sells milkshakes. While I was waiting for my order, I was watching a restaurant employee making a milkshake. It looked like it might have been mine, but I wasn’t sure.
She was pumping flavor syrup (which was in a metal dispenser) into a cup and was having a hard time getting the syrup out. So she goes and takes a short plastic fork to scoop the syrup out. Since the fork is so short and she isn’t wearing gloves, I get a bit uncomfortable, but figure that as long as her actual hand doesn’t touch the syrup inside the dispenser, it’s all good.
But then, she spills syrup on the outside of the dispenser. And instead of just cleaning it up later, she scraped it off and put it into the cup.
I was disgusted and pissed, and I was debating in my head whether I should speak up. I didn’t want to be a Karen, but I felt what she did was unsanitary. Plus, I paid $10 for that shake and would’ve felt some type of way if I didn’t speak up. I have a history of not sticking up for myself.
In the end, I did speak up. I asked her if the shake was the flavor I ordered. When she said yes, I told her I saw her scrape the syrup off the outside of the dispenser and that I needed her to remake my drink because what she did was unsanitary.
She looked like she was about to argue with me, but another employee was there and told her to just make me another. She did, and I watched her like a hawk.
Obviously, she was pissed, and now I feel like I can’t go back there because she could spit in my food for all I know. It sucks because this is one of my favorite places.
Anyway, was I wrong?

The idea that my slacker boob was actually a slacker boob has always been sus to me because baby prefers that side. I had already sized down from 17 to 16mm after regulating and decided on a whim to try these 15’s I got some time ago. Lo and behold, 15 on the slacker makes it slacker no more! I haven’t done a full pump session yet but from what I can tell, the milk is coming out lot faster. Woo!

Hey all, I wear a U.S. men’s 16, wide (usually 4E but I can swing a 2E on occasion). I’m heavy and an avid walker, so I wear through generic insoles very frequently. The replacement ones that come in my size are always quite expensive and usually aren’t nearly as comfortable as just the generic New Balance insoles I usually wear, and of course they don’t seem to sell generic replacements as is the case for most smaller sizes.
Has anyone encountered a decent, not super expensive option here? I don’t even care if they only last a few months, if they’re under like $45 I’d roll through them no problem.

timestamp
Prices are shipped/insured paypal FF or zelle. Can take more photos for serious buyers on request. All items will include complimentary golden retriever hair

• DD factory (not brownell's) MK18 w/ brand new Surefire 4P installed w/ shims & rocksett $800 - only a few mags down the pipe (unsuppressed), upper receiver has some paint residue, mint condition FDE RIS installed to replace the previous black one which was rattlecanned
  
• like new Wasteland Kooks x Grave Solutions AOR1 sling (does not include QD's) $55
  
• Androcorp (Azimuth) enhanced BCG. Made by same OEM as Radian's BCG. Take off from upper I purchased here, low round count per previous owner$100 $90
  
• 2x one remaining - brand new in plastic FCD EPC ODG single dimple $69 each
  
• LBT 2684 underwater deployment bag. LBT product page link $120 - used overseas but in good condition. Full waterproof liner on the interior and bombproof zipper for when you "lose all your guns in a boating accident."
  Sick bag but I have no space for this anymore and my wife is sick of looking at it. Perfect if you wanna larp as a JSOC cool guy, good size for plate carrier, helmet, rifles etc.
  

I’m interested in swapping out my AC in favor of a dual-fuel heat pump system. Curious if I need to replace my furnace or a simple AC swap is possible? I currently have an Amana furnace (model AMVC960804CN).

Hi friends!
I am super excited to grab my Ally in 2 weeks! A little later than everyone else due to work/life, but still.
Anyway, my current sitch is a 3080 desktop and no laptop. I work in medicine and haven’t needed a mobile Pc. In its wake I have used an iPad Pro for about 5 years and it fits my mobile needs; Reddit, plex, web browsing and Twittediscord (seriously that’s it). The iPad is approaching sluggishness and with this purchase this year I prefer not to drop another 800+ in the next 2 on a replacement portable when this thing is a laptop/tablet essentially.
I have 3 questions I was hoping to crowdsource ideas for.
1 - Since it’s windows it can run in tablet mode (?). Would that mean I can install mobile style versions of apps such as Reddit and Twitter?
2 - What peripherals would you throw in a hard case for mobility to function more like a laptop? I plan on getting a hard case like the pelican I got for my analogue pocket, but sadly there isn’t an ideal size one unless I snag a steam deck one and hope it fits well. I am thinking a multiport usb c adapter for BT M/KB (unless it has built in BT!) and perhaps a small usb c powered screen. Any other ideas?
3 - general fan question of what unique purposes do you intend to hybrid use your ally for? This thing seems to have some big versatility and I love seeing what people have come up with so far.
Cheers!

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

Hello! I have a Suzuki 6hp on a gheenoe that won't start. First issue I noticed was that the fuel pump was leaking from the main block. That has since been replaced, and the leak has gone away. I though that would solve the issue, but unfortunately no. Next we tried to rule out the external tank - luckily this model has a built-in gravity fed half gallon tank. It also will not start when switched to that fuel source.
I pulled the carb off, and cleaned thoroughly with a carb cleaner after my last outing. It also has a brand new spark plug - I keep several on hand as they're only like $2 for this motor lol.
Last time I had issues it was the carb and just needed cleaning. Then it was the spark plug. No weird symptoms on the water, and it was last used ~ two weeks ago with no issue and about 20 miles trip.
What else can I look into? Thank you!

I'm having issues sourcing a binder, I have a large chest and a disproportionately small body- I also have extreme sensory issues.
I'm in the UK, I've tried Spectrum in 7 sizes and multiple styles and I've broken my ribs twice following safe binding rules, I also hate the sensory aspect of them. I've heard nothing but bad about recent gc2b, ForThem looks like it wouldnt be enough for my large chest, and Underworks looks like too much as i dont over-flatten now, i'm injured and have chronic pain plus sensory, but i'd rather kms than not be passing, plus i'm put off by the designed for cis guys thing, people usually say they're the most affective at binding but most uncomfortable. I don't want to try random small brands i can't afford trial and error. I can't afford custom ones either.
I was using Fytist for the past year and they were excellent, the most comfortable ever. Except mine split about 3 months ago, I contacted customer support and they said they'd send another one as replacement (that email chain took a month), but as it never arrived I enquired and found out they'd gone out of business.
I'm using my emergency spectrum one now and it's hurting me (its oversized by miles), I have been doing so for 3 full months waiting on a replacement that never came (I have a refund now).
Does anyone have any suggestions? I'd prefer something lycra-based with a nice non scratchy inside panel and enough arm room to not squish, also prefer thick straps, it needs to be quite a strong bind too as I'm large chested so most of the androgynous comfy ones don't work on me. Quick-ish shipping times would be preferred as I'm on emergency. Nothing with hooks or zips thats a hard no. My budget is around £40-60?
I know i'm asking for a lot but if you can tick as many boxes as possible it would be much appreciated.

I'm having issues sourcing a binder, I have a large chest and a disproportionately small body- I also have extreme sensory issues.
I'm in the UK, I've tried Spectrum in 7 sizes and multiple styles and I've broken my ribs twice following safe binding rules, I also hate the sensory aspect of them. I've heard nothing but bad about recent gc2b, ForThem looks like it wouldnt be enough for my large chest, and Underworks looks like too much as i dont over-flatten now, i'm injured and have chronic pain plus sensory, but i'd rather kms than not be passing, plus i'm put off by the designed for cis guys thing, people usually say they're the most affective at binding but most uncomfortable. I don't want to try random small brands i can't afford trial and error. I can't afford custom ones either.
I was using Fytist for the past year and they were excellent, the most comfortable ever. Except mine split about 3 months ago, I contacted customer support and they said they'd send another one as replacement (that email chain took a month), but as it never arrived I enquired and found out they'd gone out of business.
I'm using my emergency spectrum one now and it's hurting me (its oversized by miles), I have been doing so for 3 full months waiting on a replacement that never came (I have a refund now).
Does anyone have any suggestions? I'd prefer something lycra-based with a nice non scratchy inside panel and enough arm room to not squish, also prefer thick straps, it needs to be quite a strong bind too as I'm large chested so most of the androgynous comfy ones don't work on me. Quick-ish shipping times would be preferred as I'm on emergency. Nothing with hooks or zips thats a hard no. My budget is around £40-60?
I know i'm asking for a lot but if you can tick as many boxes as possible it would be much appreciated.

I'm having issues sourcing a binder, I have a large chest and a disproportionately small body- I also have extreme sensory issues.
I'm in the UK, I've tried Spectrum in 7 sizes and multiple styles and I've broken my ribs twice following safe binding rules, I also hate the sensory aspect of them. I've heard nothing but bad about recent gc2b, ForThem looks like it wouldnt be enough for my large chest, and Underworks looks like too much as i dont over-flatten now, i'm injured and have chronic pain plus sensory, but i'd rather kms than not be passing, plus i'm put off by the designed for cis guys thing, people usually say they're the most affective at binding but most uncomfortable. I don't want to try random small brands i can't afford trial and error. I can't afford custom ones either.
I was using Fytist for the past year and they were excellent, the most comfortable ever. Except mine split about 3 months ago, I contacted customer support and they said they'd send another one as replacement (that email chain took a month), but as it never arrived I enquired and found out they'd gone out of business.
I'm using my emergency spectrum one now and it's hurting me (its oversized by miles), I have been doing so for 3 full months waiting on a replacement that never came (I have a refund now).
Does anyone have any suggestions? I'd prefer something lycra-based with a nice non scratchy inside panel and enough arm room to not squish, also prefer thick straps, it needs to be quite a strong bind too as I'm large chested so most of the androgynous comfy ones don't work on me. Quick-ish shipping times would be preferred as I'm on emergency. Nothing with hooks or zips thats a hard no. My budget is around £40-60?
I know i'm asking for a lot but if you can tick as many boxes as possible it would be much appreciated.

I'm having issues sourcing a binder, I have a large chest and a disproportionately small body- I also have extreme sensory issues.
I'm in the UK, I've tried Spectrum in 7 sizes and multiple styles and I've broken my ribs twice following safe binding rules, I also hate the sensory aspect of them. I've heard nothing but bad about recent gc2b, ForThem looks like it wouldnt be enough for my large chest, and Underworks looks like too much as i dont over-flatten now, i'm injured and have chronic pain plus sensory, but i'd rather kms than not be passing, plus i'm put off by the designed for cis guys thing, people usually say they're the most affective at binding but most uncomfortable. I don't want to try random small brands i can't afford trial and error. I can't afford custom ones either.
I was using Fytist for the past year and they were excellent, the most comfortable ever. Except mine split about 3 months ago, I contacted customer support and they said they'd send another one as replacement (that email chain took a month), but as it never arrived I enquired and found out they'd gone out of business.
I'm using my emergency spectrum one now and it's hurting me (its oversized by miles), I have been doing so for 3 full months waiting on a replacement that never came (I have a refund now).
Does anyone have any suggestions? I'd prefer something lycra-based with a nice non scratchy inside panel and enough arm room to not squish, also prefer thick straps, it needs to be quite a strong bind too as I'm large chested so most of the androgynous comfy ones don't work on me. Quick-ish shipping times would be preferred as I'm on emergency. Nothing with hooks or zips thats a hard no. My budget is around £40-60?
I know i'm asking for a lot but if you can tick as many boxes as possible it would be much appreciated.

I browse the CS and SE subreddits a lot and I comment on a lot of the threads which talk about hiring, interviews, and recruiting. Since I end up repeating similar information across these threads, I figured I should compile all that information into one post.
Some background about me: I've been building software professionally for around 8+ years, and am currently a Senior Software Engineer at a company that has absolutely nothing to do with delivering food to people who don't want to cook. I have done a lot of interviews, been the interviewer for many candidates, and been HM a few times.
I have only worked within the "big tech" scene, so I have no idea how things work at startups, local, small/medium sized, or non-tech companies, so the information in this post is relevant just for tech companies. I will also mostly focus on the entry-level interviews in this post.

What are the goals of the technical interview?

These are some of the high-level goals for the interview:

1. Be cost effective
2. Do not use too much engineer time
3. Do not make a bad hire
4. Be able to recruit from the largest pool of candidates available
5. Do not make a bad hire
6. Evaluate culture fit (mostly through communication skills)
7. Make a good hire

When you are getting thousands of applicants and conducting hundreds of interviews, you need to be very efficient throughout the hiring pipeline. The interview process has to scale with load.

Why do they always ask for a Bachelors degree when you can learn programming from online for free?

Companies want to be cost effective and avoid making bad hires. Bad hires are expensive.
A Bachelors degree in Computer Science means that various third parties (professors) have already validated a candidate's skills (through tests, projects, exams, etc.) over a 4 year period. This is work the company does not have to do, money saved!
It also standardizes all the applicants. Everyone with a Bachelors degree in CS (or CE, SE) has had the opportunity to learn the same concepts, so we can use a similar interview process to evaluate every candidate.
If I have two self-taught candidates, I have no idea what they have in common. One might have only done React tutorials on YouTube and not know about DSA, and the other might have done the MIT open courseware courses and know about DSA: so they can't get the same questions. Companies don't want to come up with bespoke questions for each candidate, it's too expensive!
A "Bachelors degree in computer science or similar discipline" has been required for all the job postings at all the places I have worked. 3-4 years of work experience as a SE can often offset this requirement.

How many applicants do big tech companies even get?

At most of the places I have worked, most entry level job postings get around 2000+ applications for the duration they are up. This gets cut down by the ATS and the recruiter, but even afterwards we are left with hundreds of applicants. The goal of the interview process is to cut this down aggressively until we get to the 1 person we want to hire.
At Senior+ levels, the number of applicants go down drastically.

Why do they always use DSA/Leetcode questions?

1. It is fairly easy, quick, and cheap to come up with new questions. Algorithms is a very wide topic, with many possible problems.
2. When problems are inevitably leaked, we can quickly deprecate and replace them.
3. They can be asked to every applicant because due to their shared background as BS in CS graduates.
4. It is language and tech-stack agnostic. We can use the same interview questions for someone who knows Ruby, Java, C, Rust, etc. We don't have to come up with unique bespoke problems for each language or tech stack.
5. Since DSA is very general, interviewers don't need to be an expert in the interviewee's language choice, since the concepts are agnostic.

Why do you want to recruit from the largest pool of candidates? Why don't you focus on one language and stack?

Big tech companies always want strong generalist engineers because we use a lot of different technologies. My team could be using Go for our services today, but we could transition to Rust or C if need be. We also want candidates to be able to fit into any team if required, and not every team uses the same language or stack.

But Leetcode is not what software engineers do day to day, why don't you interview them on REAL SKILLS?

It is not feasible to interview each candidate on "real skills" because of the volume of candidates we interview. Lets consider some other interview options:
Take home projects:

1. These questions take a long time to come up with, which means an engineer has to take a lot more of their time away from actually doing engineering work to come up with questions.
2. When the question gets leaked, it takes a lot of time to replace them because of (1). Leaving leaked questions up for too long can lead to bad hires.
3. We need to make a version of the question per language per stack for us to be able to recruit from the largest pool of candidates. This is very time consuming.

Building an application/API during the interview:

1. These questions take a long time to come up with... same as above.
2. When the question gets leaked... same as above.
3. We need to match the stack that the interviewee chose, with an engineer who also knows that stack. This is not always feasible due to scheduling.
4. We do use these kinds of interviews for Senior+ interviews, which are much lower volume.

Debugging a snippet of code:

1. These questions take a long time to come up with... same as above.
2. When the question gets leaked... same as above.
3. We might need to match what the interviewer's stack to the interviewee's stack depending on the complexity.

So that's why we don't use these kinds of other kinds of interviews for entry level interviews.

Can't people just memorize answers and pass the DSA/Leetcode interviews?

Memorizing only gets you so far, and interviewers can usually detect it. It's not like a school exam where you write the correct answer and that's it.
We ask lots of questions about the thought process behind the candidates solution. Someone who simply memorized answers will not be able to able to answer all the deep dive questions. Why did you use a Min Heap and not a Max Heap? Why did you use BFS and not DFS? Can you solve this without sorting?
There's also multiple layers of difficulty to the same problem. If someone solved the problem in 5 mins, I can bump them up to the next level.

Can you even solve the questions you are asking yourself?

It is customary to solve the question you are going to be asking before the interview. So yes, I absolutely can solve all levels of the problem I will be asking. SEs who regularly conduct interviews are generally not too rusty when it comes to solving DSA problems.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sb0p1-TGjmc is great watch, which touches on this a bit.

How do you decide which questions to ask?

We have an internal interview problem database. We can only pick problems that exist within these database. Periodically engineers will get assigned to remove leaked questions and add new questions to this pool of questions, to keep it fresh.

Isn't there luck involved?

Yeah, luck is always involved. You could practice Tree problems all month and get hit with a Heap problem, while someone else who practiced Heap problems will make it through.
Luck is involved in most things in life, even in non-DSA interviews.

I'm not good at Leetcode and I don't want to practice, what should I do?

There are still many companies which don't use DSA problems in their screening. When I was a new grad I interviewed at a consulting company and their interview consisted of them asking me some OOP concepts, some Java concepts, and a simple problem like FizzBuzz.
https://github.com/poteto/hiring-without-whiteboards has a list of companies which do not use DSA/Leetcode interviews.

I think these interviews are unfair!

That's valid. But like most things in life, the more popular a thing is, the more competition there is for it. It is more difficult and requires more studying and effort to get into MIT than University of Phoenix, the same applies for tech companies.

Are you even making good hires if you are not testing their REAL SKILLS during the interview?

According to our analytics, we are making good enough hires. We have found that people who have good generalist and foundational knowledge are able to learn whatever REAL SKILLS are required quickly, and end up becoming very productive members of our teams.
At one of my previous companies, we did an AB test where one cohort got the regular DSA/Leetcode interview and another cohort got a take home assignment. After 3 years the data showed that the hires from the DSA/Leetcode cohort got promoted to SE2 slightly faster than the hires from the take home assignment set. The increase was not too significant, but it proved that it was not worth spending the extra resources on coming up with take home assignment questions.
Of course we do make bad hires every now and then, but they are rare, and PIPs exist for this reason.

What about all the good engineers you are missing out on because they don't like DSA/Leetcode interviews or are bad at them?

We might miss out on some good engineers, but it does not end up mattering because of sheer volume. For example, if only 5% of 2000 applicants pass the interview, that is still 100 people.
There is probably at least 5 good engineers within that 100. So even if 500 good engineers got filtered out, we can still hire the 1 good engineer we need for that specific open role.
I'm sure MIT misses out on many exemplary students every year as well!

How many candidates actually pass these interviews?

I would say anywhere from 5-10% of the total interviews we do at the entry level turn into offers.

Summary

I hope that explains the reasoning behind why these interviews are the way they are.
I personally think the perfect system would be similar to how it works for med students with medical school. You get your BS in CS and then go to a 4 year "software engineering school" and a government body (similar to the LCME) will hand out out licenses upon completion. Then you do 3-7 years of residency in various domains. The top of the class get placed into the company and domain of their choosing, and the bottom get placed into whatever is available.
/s
Feel free to ask questions, I will try to answer them. I will not argue with you though since that's pointless.