The Future is Officially Canceled.
Dee had read articles like this before. He couldn’t remember if the future had ever been officially canceled. But it had been canceled. Unofficially, perhaps. Hence the need to do it officially.
He skimmed the first few paragraphs …the slow cancellation of the future… …pop culture is eating itself… …imitators are imitating an imitation… The ‘slow cancellation’ theory was first flung around in the early twenty first century, on the hypothesis that if you played 1970s music to someone in the 1950s, it would blow their freaking mind. And if you played music from the 1990s to someone in the 1970s, their mind would be equally blown. But if you played music from the ‘10s to someone in the 1990s it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. In fact, that person may even think they had heard some of it before. The same thing with music from the ‘30s to someone in the ‘10s or music from now to someone in the ‘30s. That person might conceivably think they were even listening to music from a previous decade. Pop culture had referenced itself so many times over, it was now just a copy of a copy of a copy. Degrading every time.
Dee looked down at the article's credit, Dennis Bagley, Editorial AI Operator. He knew it, AI. No wonder it read so familiar. He looked up at the various awards on his top shelf. Dee knew he was different. Better. His AI operating skills were the thing of accolades. The thing of applause. Just last week he and his AI processor picked up Gold in Effectology for their Just Poo It campaign for Charmin. And Silver in Originology for their The Ketchup In The Rye commercial for Pepsi-Heinz, about a young guy who gets kicked out of school and stays out all night trying to find a bottle of ketchup. He looked down at his processor and beamed. Its glowing red light beamed back at him.
They didn’t just stumble into that kind of effectiveness. Campaigns didn’t even get greenlit unless they scored ninety or above on the Effectology meter. He and his AI were usually hitting ninety twos or ninety threes, even a ninety five for Here’s To The Lazy Ones for Caspar mattresses. That campaign killed.
But Dee held himself to that higher calling, Originology. The metrics of original ideas. Sure, the AI did most of the work but Dee was able to tweak his processor to go way beyond the requisite twenty five percent Originology score. Together they were nailing figures in the forties, sometimes even peaking into the fifties. Scores that were head and shoulders above the rest of the department.
That’s how he could afford the sweet ‘18 Jordans Reissues on his feet. He curled his luxe Loewe headphone cable through his fingers and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. He scoffed at a time when people didn’t think they needed a headphone cable. And imagined having nothing to twirl while listening to reinterpreted rock, nothing to wind around his fingers while he fed the processor. How many headphones must have been lost forever, just because they weren’t plugged in? Like everything else in pop culture, what went around came around, and, relatively recently, headphone cables had come back hard as the status symbol. Today, you didn’t just have to have a cable to be considered cool, you had to have the cable. It had to be thick as a rope, plated with rare metals, and covered in a fancy leather sheath from a chic brand like Gucci or Loewe.
Dee beamed as he thought of all the cool historical cultural knowledge he had amassed. Not just advertising history like the dweebs in the cubicles around him, but film history, fashion history, art history, music history. If it happened in culture, he knew about it. And he used it. That’s how he scored so high on the Originology meter. It made him feel almost like a real writer. Though he would never say that out loud. He imagined being like the old timers, upstairs. The un.ai.ded human writers, that clients would pay a serious premium for. Then he wouldn’t have to work on ketchup and toilet roll. He could have a crack at the big dogs, like Googlesoft, United American Airlines or DoritosLocosTacoBell. For now though, he’d have to stick with clients more becoming of his position. This morning’s task was to create a campaign for Pepsi-Crest. A toothpaste. Not super interesting. But he knew how to spice it up. Instead of letting his AI go back through decades of toothpaste ads just to pump out tired old crap like the It Cleans Your Face While it Cleans Your Teeth campaign that Mike Bey pitched last week, Dee mixed in a little fast food inspo from one of his favorite eras and found himself at the highly original and equally effective Where’s the Teeth? campaign. He was stunned by his own brilliance. He patted his processor and imagined it congratulating him back, then he programmed it to write an epic fifteen second anthem film and a suite of six second pre-roll spots, then sent it off to the CG department to render in time to air that night. Dee’s colleagues often asked him how he and his processor were so good at what they did. How their campaigns always scored so highly in both Effectology and Originology. They all used the same machine learning. It’s what the agency sold itself on. Never wanting to sound aloof; even though he was, or like he was tooting his own horn; even though he often did, he would merely say, “I like to pepper a bit of non advertising data in there. A little hint of me.” It was enough to provoke gasps and even make his colleagues take a step back or two, they had all been programmed to do just one task, feed the machine with advertising data. They couldn’t fathom diverging. “The AI should be enough,” was the general understanding. “The machine has better knowledge of advertising history than we do,” and “knows the ins and outs of Effectology better than we ever could.” It’s even been “scientifically programmed to exceed all expectation of Originology.” Dee couldn’t be swayed by any of the standard reactions. He would just smile, and casually amble off. Knowing full well he was beating the machine. He was a rebel in his own right. That afternoon, his section boss leaned over his cubicle. “Hullo Tara.” “Keep it formal please, colleague,” she scolded, “call me Antino. What do you look so ruddy chuffed about anyway?” “I just came up with a brilliant campaign for a very dull toothpaste. You’ll see it on The Comedy Central Reruns Channel tonight.” “Yes, well, an upstairs project is running behind and they’re calling on us down here to pull together some inspo decks, help jostle something loose in those tired old brains.” “Wouldn’t that make them not human-made? What are their clients paying all that money for?” “Loopholes, colleague, loopholes. As long as one of them humans writes the final line, it doesn’t matter how much AI they used to get there. “ “I could do that. I could do better than that. Did I tell you about my toothpaste campaign?” “Yes you did. Twice now. Must be good.” “It is.” “Well, here’s your chance for a peek into the real writer life. I’m deprioritizing your regular workload and prioritizing this inspo creation.” “Yeahhh!” Dee punched the air and freeze framed like he saw in an old movie. “The brief is for Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM. It’s a car. The Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM Unica. Like a fancy off-roader, you know what I mean? They wanna sell it to people in cities who don’t drive. More of a status symbol, you know what I mean? Like park it in front of your house so people will know you could go off-roading if you wanted to. Audience archetype is Moms. You getting this?” Dee finally broke his freeze frame but his mind was already whirring. “Yeah, I got it.” “Alright then. Bon chance.” Dee jumped into action, flipped up his AI processor’s screen and started cross referencing old Land Rover ads with The Rock movies, some Nora Ephron classics, Michelle Rodriguez’s character from all twenty eight Fast & Furious movies; even the fully CGI’d ones, the scene from Mrs Doubtfire when she’s playing the broomstick like a guitar, some Bikini Kill records, a memory of his own Mom making him wait in the car while she went shopping at Bergdorfs, a bunch of cool off-roading stuff from Top Gear and a painting of a car he’d always loved by Robert Bechtle. The machine spat out fifteen possible campaign inspo starters and Dee ran-walked them to the inspo courier in the office atrium. Before the day ended, a synthetic orchestra sounded through the building, \Pah pahhh, pah pa pah pa pah pahhh** and the employees were called into the atrium. Office meeting. As Dee strolled in, he caught the rare sight of the last few human copywriters lined up around the balcony above them. They applauded the downstairs employees, theatrically, motioning with their claps as they walked in and took seats, stood awkwardly or otherwise congregated.
There was a dramatic hush before one of the last true human copywriters finally spoke. “Great inspo. Thanks.” Wow. Each word, each letter, worth its weight in gold. That's probably why they used so few, thought Dee. “Yeah, really really good stuff.” Said another. “AI did this?” Said a third as she held the sheets of inspo out. “Some of the best inspo I’ve ever seen in all of my career.” Coughed the oldest and most regal sounding.
Dee squinted and peered up at them. Was that his inspo deck they were flashing around? Was this whole elaborate ceremony all to celebrate his AI operating? He didn’t know whether to be chuffed or anxious. Did they know he was cheating the system? Did they care? These are some of the last true human copywriters in history. They have, and are encouraged to have, the unique thought. Their work isn’t judged on how similar-without-being-exactly-the-same it is to existing campaigns. It’s judged on how different, how breakthrough, how stand out it is.
“It was me!” Dee blurted out. Quite uncharacteristically. He was usually so cool with the compliments. So coy with the recognition. His whole angle required it.
The other AI operators standing around him took their requisite step back, though this time it was less in awe, more in disgust. The air in the room stiffened. AI had ruled his department, and most of the industry, for so long that people didn’t speak up anymore. They just quietly fed the machine. And the machine took all the glory. Dee felt instant ostracism from the colleagues he had worked alongside for most of his career. He immediately questioned his outburst and retracted his ownership claim, knowing that his inspo deck would have been one of many.
“Some of it, at least. My AI, I mean. Processor.” He said. Sheepish this time. Back in his place.
The last few human copywriters smiled, nodded, bowed, gave final congratulations to all from high up on their balcony and then shuffled away in single file. All but one, Sir Coughing-Most-Regal. He slowly made his way down the grand staircase, into the atrium. A man leaving behind his usual pomp and circumstance, bringing his rare ability of unique thought into a crowd of imitation suppliers. As he reached the bottom step, he lost all of his royal air and seemed suddenly so vulnerable, walking among the regular folk. Most of Dee’s colleagues had already left, gone back to their metal masters, but Dee stayed. He knew this old man was coming to see him. He thought he might be in for a dressing down but he hoped it would be the opposite. He manifested that this titan of singular thought, the rare, unique idea, was coming to congratulate him.
“Freedkin.” The old man shoved out his hand. “Pleasure.” Dee shook it. “You say you programmed this inspo deck, yes?” He flapped the pages around. “Yes.” “Ruddy good work, let me tell you.” “Thank you.” “In all my years, since this artificial thinking thing came in, I’ve never read anything so good. Inspired me all over. I’ve been positively bursting with ideas since.” “Thank… you.” “AI wrote this you say?” “Yes.” “Ruddy good for AI. Never read anything so ruddy good. And you processed it?” “Yes.” “What’s your name son?” “Dee.” “Dee what?” “Palmer.” “Pleasure to meet you, Palmer. How much did you… influence it, the AI?” “How do you mean, sir?” “Call me Freedkin.” “How do you mean, Freedkin?” “I mean… how much of it is yours and how much is the machine’s?” Dee didn’t answer. He was looking for the angle. This old man surely didn’t value what AI does. He’s one of the last bastions of actual human creation. What was he getting at? Freedkin reoriented his question. “Mostly the machine or mostly you?” Dee thought he might have a kindred spirit here, in front of him, for the first time. He was going to take a risk. Recognizing a willingness to open up, Freedkin leaned in and spoke quietly. “Did you write this inspo or did the machine?” “I wrote it.” Dee postured. “All.” “Thought so. Good job. Our secret.” Freedkin winked. “Jolly good.” The next day, as he fed his AI little snippets of unexpected data, Dee noticed a hush come over his floor. The usual keyboard click, clack and grumble of inter-colleague banter were dead silent. All that was left was the processors’ harmonic hum. He lifted himself from his expensive ergonomic office chair and peered over his cubicle wall, spying across the sea of operators that made up the AI.ded Creativity department. A hunched figure at the opposite end of the bullpen sauntered from operator to operator, swilling a cup of coffee, looking in at each workstation. Giving a “hello” here, a nod there, even the odd salute. It was Freedkin. A real writer. Down here with the machine feeders. The other operators seemed afraid to go near him. Worried they might infect him with their inability. Dee had never seen a real writer in the operators’ bullpen. Freedkin, already old by industry standards, looked positively ancient in these surroundings. A sepia photograph in a technicolor world. Dee watched him, wondering if he should call out. He felt bound by social etiquette to not foist another outburst onto his peers. So he just watched, for a number of minutes, until Freedkin was close enough that his old eyes could make out Dee’s visage.
“Palmer!” Bingo. The two sat in Dee’s cubicle. Freedkin in the expensive office chair, as was fitting, and Dee on the wooden footstool. “For a short time we all worked from home. At the start of my career. For a short time.” “Everyone?” “Most. Not everyone, I suppose. But it was the thing to do. Was deemed more productive. Until it wasn’t. Then when this thing became the norm,” he tapped on Dee’s tiny AI processor, its red light glowed, “there was a sort of an office renaissance. I remember the bigwigs back then didn’t really want us using AI for ideas. Like it was giving in to the machine. We slowly got called back to the agency so they could keep an eye on our output. Keep it human, I suppose. That’s when the separation happened. In the end, the agency had to start using artificial thinking to keep up with demand. What are you lot churning out these days? Three campaigns a day? Four? We used to get a whole week to come up with one idea. After a while, of course, it got squeezed down to a couple of days. To the point where we needed the machine to keep up. Not long after, the bigwigs realized they could actually charge more off of the ‘human’ written stuff. Anyway, enough of the history lesson, what.” “It’s very interesting.” “Yes well, what I really came down here for,” Freedkin paused and looked around, “was some of that… good… inspo.” “I hear ya.” Dee poised his fingers over his keyboard and looked into the air like he was about to write something un.ai.ded, cocksure in his posture. “What’s this one about then?” “Watches. For Googlesoft. ‘Time,’ I was thinking, means so much, yet so little. Where does it all go? You know? How do we make more of it? Watches are time machines. See?” Dee’s posture sank. He thought of all that, by himself? No machine? He suddenly felt very ineffective. Unoriginal. He saw only the red glow from his little AI processor, staring back at him. Taking all the credit. He imagined it laughing with his colleagues in a bar while he sat at the other end of the table, ignored. He imagined it accepting awards by itself. He felt weak. He felt useless without it. It just glowed. “It kind of flows better… when I’m alone.” Dee nervously mumbled. “Right. Don’t say another word. Right you are. ‘Time.’ Remember. Where does it all go? Ok, I go. Ta-ta for now.
Dee looked down at his processor, apologetically. He quietly admonished himself before it until he felt forgiven. Then he typed in a weak initial prompt, all he could muster, write an advertising campaign about time.
The AI spat back a perfectly crafted campaign idea, line and film execution almost faster than Dee hit enter. The Best Things Come To Bros Who Wait. Dee immediately recognized it as a Guinness Surfers imitation. Tick followed tock followed tick followed tock. Its Effectology score clocked in well into the nineties. But its Originology score barely scraped by, just making it into ‘passable.’ Dee silently sneered at his surrounding coworkers. Any one of them would submit this as is and call it a day. It’d be rendered in minutes, deals made with celebrities’ CG likenesses under the hour, a revered AI voiceover and stunning synthetic music that would leave audiences lining up for these passively useful timepieces. But that wasn’t enough for Dee. That’s why he was who he was, goddamnit. Why Freedkin came to him. Him! Not Buton or Deytoro or Heckering. Him!
He added more detail to his prompt. Meaning of time. How to get time back. Time Machine. Back in time. Michael J Fox. Einstein (dog). Time Bandits. Timecop. Van Damme. Kyle Reece. Time displacement. Uhhh huhhh this felt good again. This was working. Dee and his processor were back in sync. As though they were one. Of course, as far as Freedkin knew, they were one. As Dee typed away, he imagined him and his AI coming together. Two heads. Better than one. He lost himself in his prompting and pictured his processor sitting on his shoulder, a second head, right there, next to his own. A tiny, metal appendage. Sleek, gray, with its glowing red light. And, for some reason, it was growing a little mustache. Dee and the mustached machine were completely lost in their work over the next few days. They hardly wrote any of their own campaigns. It was all inspo, inspo, inspo for Freedkin. The good stuff though, Viking Space Cruises, 1900 Tequila, Acne Studios. Each time, Dee and his processor were pretty much writing the entire thing. Freedkin hardly needed to change them at all. Just put his old world tone all over it. Add all of his extra words and ‘personality.’ Dee’s two heads were coming up with the best campaigns in the agency. And no one knew it. Except Freedkin. By now, his second head felt almost as big as his first. He could see it in his periphery. When he looked to the left, it looked back at him. It smiled sometimes. And that little freaking mustache was starting to freak Dee out. That night, Freedkin invited Dee for a couple of drinks with the other real human writers at the fanciest DoritosLocosTacoBell on the Westside. They didn’t even have to wait in line. Dee marveled at the size of the place, the expansiveness. It was packed. They were led through by the greeter to a private table at the back with a leather rope around it. He sat on the edge of the booth as the others ordered various flavors of Gatorade-aritas. When it got to Dee, he said he would have the same as Freedkin, which turned out to be a Frost Glacier Cherry-arita, the classiest -arita of all.
The writers’ conversation was mesmerizing. Every word that came out of their mouths was a unique thought. An opinion. A point of view. Dee tried to join in by recounting the narrative of various movies he had seen. The more obscure the better, attempting to interact at their level. While telling the story of Mick Jackson’s Threads to Bigelo, he could feel her searching for a point of view or an opinion in what he was saying, but he couldn’t stir one. If only he had his processor right now. Its red light glowed comfortingly in his mind. He missed it. Slowly, the other writers left. Dee couldn’t help but think he had something to do with it. He was feeling so inadequate by the time everyone but Freedkin had gone that he just sat quietly and half-smiled at him. Both of them were five or six Gatorade-aritas deep, slumped in their private booth. “Do you like what you do?” Asked Freedkin. “I love it.” “Do you really?” “I don’t know.” “I hate what I do. But I’m good at it. Do you want to know the secret, Palmer? The secret to what we do?” Dee couldn’t do anything but smile a little bigger to communicate his response. Freedkin paused for dramatic effect. “If you love advertising, you shouldn’t work in advertising.” Did Dee love advertising? He didn’t even know. He knew he knew advertising. “You think your audience loves advertising? You think they want to see your tribute to that Googlesoft spot that was an imitation of an Apple spot that was inspired by a Brett Morgen film? No! They just want to see the Brett Morgen film! They don’t want to see your thing at all!” Dee slumped further down. “But if you’re lucky,” Freedkin continued, “if you’re really lucky, and you show them something they’ve never seen before, because you hate advertising too and you just wanted to make something that made you feel something, if they feel that same feeling, you’ve got gold. But you can only get to gold by summoning all of your experiences outside of advertising. You can’t just try to make the Nike of pimple commercials. You have to make the Palmer of pimple commercials. Do you see? That’s the problem with your AI. Your machine.”
The red light flashed again in Dee’s mind. Awakened by Freedkin’s heresy.
“The best AI will ever do is just show you a better version of something you’ve seen before. They call that effective? The numbers can say whatever they want them to, all they’re really doing is pasting wallpaper on top of wallpaper on top of wallpaper. Until eventually the audience ignores it completely. But you’re different Palmer. You and I are different. Different is what sells. I had a word with Simmons up on six. She’s agreed to give you a trial period on the human floor. At my behest. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her you were already thinking for yourself. I just told her you had the potential to. You start tomorrow. Trial period. Tonight was about the other humans meeting you. I can’t tell you that they’re not skeptical. But they’re open to it. For me. What do you think?” Dee was nervous. He got off the elevator at the operators’ bullpen without even thinking about it. He walked all the way to the atrium and up the grand staircase to the human writers’ floor, instead of getting back on the elevator. He took each step steadily, taking it all in. He felt like a tourist. Like he was borrowing an identity. He imagined he was a young Freedkin and tried to put a confident stride in his step. It didn’t work. He put his hand in his pocket and felt for his AI processor. His second head. Mustached. He couldn’t turn it on because, as everyone knew, AI wasn’t allowed upstairs, in case the agency got audited. The cost consultants would be all over a human writing department that used artificial ideation. They’d be shut down. At the very least, they would lose their Un.AI.ded AI.dvertising license. The only reason for charging such a premium. Dee ran his hand along the balcony rail. He’d only ever seen it from downstairs, from the non-human thinkers’ floor. He walked from the balcony to the human writer’s work area. It was the exact opposite of what he was used to. No sea of cubicles. No click clack. No mechanized productivity. No hum. Just couches, writing desks and quiet.
“Morning.” Whistled Freedkin. “How are we?” “We?” “You.” “Wish I hadn’t drunk so much.” “Ohh, I know. Think of it as an initiation. Nothing wrong with it. Takes your mind off the job. Stops you from thinking for a minute. You need that after everything you’ve been pumping out. All that gold, that is.” “Right.” “Right. Well. Set yourself up wherever you like. First brief is for Coca-Cola. A new water! The freshest water they’ve ever sold, so they say. Tap Clear” Dee wandered over to a small writing desk and put his touchscreen down. He unraveled his headphone cable and felt for his processor in his pocket. When he found it, he rubbed it like a lamp, wishing for a genie. A couple of human writers who’d been deep in concentration when he first walked in, had been disturbed by his arrival. He didn’t recognize them from last night. They glared at him as he set himself up. He smiled in their general direction. They continued to glare. “Big Jim.” Whispered Freedkin. “Him and his team have been here three days straight, on a pitch. Don’t worry about them. They’re just under tremendous stress. This human work really takes it out of you, you know? ” Dee turned and sat with his back to them. He powered up his touchscreen and put his headphones on, draping his Loewe headphone cable around his neck and shoulders. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard, expecting ideas to come. Nothing. He skimmed the brief. Still nothing. He read the brief. Not a thing. A few of the other writers strolled in. Dee watched them find a workspace, sit down, start writing. One of them even used a pen! Dee loved this whole lifestyle. Turn up for work whenever, spout genius, have lunch, sell some billion dollar ideas, have a cocktail. The thought of it all spurred him on. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard again and braced himself for the idea flow. Nothing came. Nothing. All morning. His mind was blank. It felt like it was getting blanker. He couldn’t believe it. Even half thoughts were swimming away from him. Impossible to catch. Even just individual words. Gone. By the afternoon Dee was starting to freak out. He felt like an imposter. “Freedkin,” he hissed, “I can’t think. I can’t come up with anything.” “It takes time, my boy. Days. I told you, before we used to even have weeks…” “But my brain’s not working at all. It won’t… generate… anything.” “Relax your brain. Relax yourself.” “But Freedkin… Freedkin,” he hissed again, “I didn’t write any of that stuff. It was AI. All of it. No… I mean… I helped… but it wasn’t all me.” “Ok… hold on… boy… be careful. That kind of talk will get you killed around here. Try and make it to the end of the day. Try just writing some things down. Some thoughts. Some words. And if you still feel the same tomorrow, I’ll let the brass know it wasn’t for you. No harm.” Dee’s eyes hardened. “Do you hear me, Palmer?” Dee rubbed his temples. “Listen, this affects both of us. Yes, you, but also me… for recommending you. I’ll be out… Think!” Freedkin distanced himself. Hoping it would quell the panic. Dee stared at nothing for as long as he could. An hour, at most. Just stared. No thoughts came. No words. A blank screen. So he slipped his hand in his pocket, held his AI processor warmly, and turned it on. Instantly, an alarm sounded. “What's going on here, Freedkin?” Skewered Big Jim. “Is this your kid? What’s the big idea? Is he working for the machines? What is he…trying to infiltrate us? I can’t have this. I’ve got a family. I can’t be out of a job.” “It’s just a misunderstanding, Jim. He’ll be leaving now.” “No he won’t. Get back here, kid.” Big Jim grabbed at Dee’s shirt. Dee squirmed and tried to push him away. Big Jim got a hand on his neck instead, as some of the other writers tried to grab his arms. Dee instinctively swung his fists around. He got one of the writers, Bigelo, square in the eye. She roared “He’s blinded me!” Big Jim picked him up by his neck. Dee choked. He grabbed his touchscreen and swung it. The edge caught Big Jim on the side of the head. Big Jim dropped him and screamed. Freedkin put a hand on Big Jim’s shoulder. Big Jim swung his fist around and slammed it into Freedkin’s nose. Dee tried to slip away but Big Jim, raging, grabbed his headphone cable and dragged him back, winding the cable around his neck to try and hold on to him with it. The other writers stepped back as Dee kicked around in a panic. He got one of the writers in the stomach and another in the back. The headphone cable slipped out of Big Jim’s hands. Dee reached out for anything he could grab onto. He found a desk leg and pulled himself away from the melee as the gang of writers got him by his feet. They pulled off his Jordans and he crawled away as fast as he could, out of the writers’ area and onto the balcony. The writers caught up with him. He swung the few punches he could muster. He cracked one writer on the cheekbone as another reached for his headphone cable, wrapping it around the balcony rail to stop him from getting even further away. Big Jim steamed in, bleeding from his head, and slammed into Dee, launching him into the air with his sheer force. Dee reached for the rail but it slipped under him as he toppled over into the open atrium, between the floors. He felt a snap as the headphone cable went taut around his neck. A colleague standing in the atrium shrieked. Dee kicked his legs and wriggled about, trying to slip out. He clawed his hands around the cable and tried to loosen it but it just got tighter and tighter. He looked up to see the human writers peering down. Not helping. He could feel his consciousness slipping away. He looked to his left to see his second head staring straight back at him. As he hung, he could feel the metal head growing, exponentially, until it popped off, hit the ground and shattered. Shiny gray liquid metal spilled all over the floor and splashed up the walls. Its red light glowing all over as the metal spread around the room. Once it had flooded the entire atrium it enveloped Dee’s mind. And he was gone. The agency left his body hanging there for two days. They blamed it on a lack of janitorial availability. Everything in the office was automated, and cutting down a dead body wasn’t something their sanitation robots had been programmed to do. But, deep down, everyone knew that it was a message. That they should stay in the roles they had been assigned. So they did. So they wouldn’t end up like Dee.

I made a mistake, a huge mistake, and I’m about to pay for it. I found out 3 months ago my wife had been in an emotional affair with a co-worker of hers, I found her texts and there was no doubt this was happening right there under my nose. I confronted her immediately and she sobbed her way back into my heart with all the; I’m sorry’s and nothing happened, we were just fantasizing about what it could be, but was never anything more. Then she would say all the things cheaters say; I’ll cut him out of my life, I’ll quit my job, nothing ever happened, it was just talk, oh I’m so mad at myself for letting it go this far, please forgive me and bla-bla-bla. My mistake was I didn’t make her quit her job, she just moved to another shift, she used to work nights from 4pm till 11, now she works from 8am till 5. Our lives seemed to be getting back to normal, I did see a difference in her. She had become more attentive and shared everything with me, but I still had trust issues, there was just no way for me to believe that she changed that much so quickly.
I hired a PI to investigate, I needed to see if this affair had gotten more involved than she told me, because my trust was so low, all I could see was she was up to something, I had to make sure she was being honest with me. I waited one night for her to fall asleep, and then I took her phone, yes I checked her phone. Were married and I don’t believe in private spaces, when you say, I do, to me this covers more than just being married, but the phones, mail, e-mails, chats, these are all fair games in my eyes. I found her texts to that guy, and yes they stopped immediately after I confronted her. I took screen shots and sent them to my phone as evidence. Her phone showed nothing else and yes, I searched for hours, going through all her texts with everyone, because she could have just used another name as a disguise. But there was nothing, it was clean, I even checked her calculator because I heard that it could be just a fake social app hidden. I checked her car for another phone and again I found nothing, I did a thorough search even under floor mats and the trunk and came up empty. I was starting to think I have lost my freaking mind, but I just couldn’t stop. I snuck her phone back onto her nightstand, climbed back into bed for the remainder of the night. The next day after she went to work, I searched though all her drawers, her closet, and then moved to the PC, since I was the one that set up her e-mail, I had her password and still I found nothing. I had to relent that she was telling the truth and I doubted that the PI would find anything, but I just let him do his job.
We had started moving on with our lives because I didn’t find any signs the affair had gotten physical and stayed emotional, I was starting to feel better that my wife had seen her error and she was desperately trying to fix our relationship, I was slowly letting my guard down. The PI got in touch 2 weeks later and said he found no indications that the affair went physical, and I told him, thank you and cancelled the contract. Life went on and seemed to be normal for the next month, she was loving and the perfect wife, there was no hiding of her phone, no new passwords, and no extensive texting, and she would just go to work and home. I have begun to trust her and feeling that we had just avoided a major pitfall in our wedding bliss.
This is where my life took a turn for the worst, I’m an armed armored car driver and have a concealed carry permit, I always have a gun on me. I had gotten a stain on my shirt from the hotdogs I was eating at lunch and decided to make a quick stop at my house to change shirts, it was on the way to our second series of pickups, and we had no money in the truck, so that wasn’t an issue. I ran into the house and my wife was at work so I ran in, then I heard some noises coming from my bedroom and there was banging as if things were being knocked over, I pulled out my gun and slowly opened the door but it was dark due to the blackout blinds I installed years ago, then there was a flash, I started shooting blindly in the direction of the flash thinking I was being fired upon. I heard screams and moans, I quickly turned on the lights and seen a half-dressed man lying on the ground holding his shoulder, my wife lying in bed covered in blood. I ran to her and applied pressure to her wound. This is when I guess my partner called the police when he heard the gunshots from my house, he came in with his gun drawn and walked into the bedroom. I was holding the sheets to my wife’s chest where the bullet entered. I yelled for him to call 911 and he made another call for an EMT because two people had been shot. Police arrived and I was taken out of the room as the paramedics were helping the two victims. This was nothing more than a tragic mistake.
My wife’s car was in the garage, she never parks in the garage, but I guess she was hiding the affair partner from neighbors by sneaking him out from her car into the home. The flash I seen was the AP lighting a cigarette, they were both were transported to the hospital, but my wife was critical and needed emergency surgery to save her life, her AP was stitched up and released the next day. My wife recovered after 3 weeks in the hospital and went to recover with her parents.
I was taken to the police station to give my account of the incident and after about 7 hours of questioning, I was released, I went home to a message that I was fired from my job for making a unscheduled stop while on shift. I just sat there and started drinking. I wasn’t allowed to see my wife which was okay with me because I felt bad for shooting her, but she was a cheater, our marriage was over. She tried calling, but I wanted no contact with her. I contacted a lawyer just in case any charges were filed, he stopped by and told me not to say another word unless he was present. A week later there was a knock on my door and when I answered there were 2 police officers standing there and I was placed under arrest. I called my lawyer, he met me at the station, they were charging me with the willful attempt of trying to kill my wife and AP.
They said they found out I was aware of my wife’s infidelity, and I tried to kill them. They had found the screenshots on my phone, they also knew I hired a PI, and said I used him to find where and when the AP and my wife were meeting, I had premeditatively set this up. I was shocked and my lawyer told me that this was just a fishing expedition and not to worry. That was up until 4 days ago when I was standing in front of a judge for a preliminary hearing so the DA could lay out his evidence. That’s when my lawyer stepped up and called the PI to the stand and he backed my story that he found nothing about the affair and relayed that information to me, not what the DA was accusing me of doing. My lawyer also called in my partner from the armored car, he said that it was just bad timing, and I had shown no signs of anything other than getting a clean shirt. The judge sat and listened to all the evidence and witnesses and then said, the DA did not prove the was any crime here and then he dismissed all charges.
I went home to try and put my life back together. After losing my wife, and my job, I decided that I needed a fresh start and moved to a nearby city and got a job with a local car service, now I drive Limos and town cars for a living. My wife and I spoke briefly, I apologized for shooting her and she apologized for her affair, we went through with the divorce. We sold the home and never spoke again. I later heard the when the AP was in the hospital his wife rushed in and was greeted by the police and after she was told where he was when he was shot, she walked in and told him to find a new home and to look for a lawyer soon, because that was her next stop.
This was several years ago, and I have restarted my life, I’m getting into a better mind space, but still taking it one day at a time. I go 3 times a week for counseling for the shooting, and the betrayal of my wife. It’s getting easier, but only time will tell.

Im a teacher with more than 10yrs experience on a leave of absence from my board and working on a contract at a private school. Im just finishing up my first year, and back in February I had to declare that I wanted to extend that leave (I did). At the time I was feeling pretty good about staying private but since then my mood has soured a lot. The hours are more demanding than Id thought: constant meetings during my prep time so I wind up not being able to help students, mark, or prep my courses which means I have to put in hours at night just to feel I can keep up. Not to mention the evening and weekend duties since its a boarding school plus the mandatory coaching. The parents are also demanding to the point that theyve stressed me out and I dont see me lasting there long term.
Anyways ive come to a point where I have to make a choice:
Option A: I stick it out next year and then dip back to public.
Option B: I resign from the private job over the summer (I realize this is a bit of a dick move since theyll have a hard time hiring but I dont want to give up my summer pay which im entitled to). My board has told me I cant go back to my old job because the LTO has been hired but I can apply for any LTOs which get posted over the summer or even take supply work. After that year I can go back to my old job (I was happy enough that I think I can ride it out and be happy til retirement)
Money's not an issue since I can make bank tutoring. Pension is not an issue either since lto and supply days count towards pension. Benefits might be an issue: if I did an LTO id be ok but supply means no benefits as far as i can tell. The public board id be going back to was ok: I dont think there are too many "bad schools".
Have I missed anything? What would you do? All advice welcome!!
Stay classy only a couple weeks left everybody!!

Im a teacher with more than 10yrs experience on a leave of absence from my board and working on a contract at a private school. Im just finishing up my first year, and back in February I had to declare that I wanted to extend that leave (I did). At the time I was feeling pretty good about staying private but since then my mood has soured a lot. The hours are more demanding than Id thought: constant meetings during my prep time so I wind up not being able to help students, mark, or prep my courses which means I have to put in hours at night just to feel I can keep up. Not to mention the evening and weekend duties since its a boarding school plus the mandatory coaching. The parents are also demanding to the point that theyve stressed me out and I dont see me lasting there long term.
Anyways ive come to a point where I have to make a choice:
Option A: I stick it out next year and then dip back to public.
Option B: I resign from the private job over the summer (I realize this is a bit of a dick move since theyll have a hard time hiring but I dont want to give up my summer pay which im entitled to). My board has told me I cant go back to my old job because the LTO has been hired but I can apply for any LTOs which get posted over the summer or even take supply work. After that year I can go back to my old job (I was happy enough that I think I can ride it out and be happy til retirement)
Money's not an issue since I can make bank tutoring. Pension is not an issue either since lto and supply days count towards pension. Benefits might be an issue: if I did an LTO id be ok but supply means no benefits as far as i can tell. The public board id be going back to was ok: I dont think there are too many "bad schools".
Have I missed anything? What would you do? All advice welcome!!
Stay classy only a couple weeks left everybody!!

I have two daughters, one is 28 and the other one is 26.
We were a very happy family, we had no problems as such, me and my ex wife were earning well, we sent our daughters to a good expensive private school, whatever they needed, we provided, there were no such fights or anything, we used to go on vacations, everything seemed perfect, but 11 years ago my ex wife cheated on me and moved out, after 3 months she wanted to reconcile but everyone told me that she will cheat on me again and not to trust her cause in those 3 months she totally cut off contact with me and my daughters, I did wanted her back in my life cause I did love her so much but everyone advised me that she will cheat on me again and it will break me more.
My daughters were 17 and 15 respectively that time. As my ex wife abandoned us, I had to leave my job as I had to be out for like 3 or 4 days in a week, so I had to join a low paying job where I could be home everyday. After my eldest daughter turned 18, she joined Uni, I paid her tuition which was very expensive but I had savings, but in 2 months my daughter like ghosted me, she just cut off all contact with me for no specific reason, like in the beginning I understood that it's her new life and everyone needs time but she just totally cut me off.
I was trying to meet her, contact her but she was not interested at all. My younger daughter was still normal with me, she was angry at her sister because she was not talking to her also, when my younger daughter joined Uni, sadly she did the same thing that she just cut me off from her life. I went through hell all these years, it was very hard for me, like what was the reason to just cut me off from their life, they did the same thing to me what their own mother did to them.
A few months ago I got to know through someone about my younger daughter living in awful conditions, I went to meet her, she is living in an awful place and sadly she is an addict now and even prostituting herself, it was really heart breaking to see her like this, she was such a bright student and a very happy person who was very kind to everyone. She is not in contact with her sister or her mother.
Now a few days ago I ran into my elder daughter at a store, I was happy to see her after such a long time, she is doing really good for herself, she was happy to see me too, she is married now and has a kid. She said she is not in contact with her younger sister or her mother, I told her what her younger sister is going through, she said she might go and visit her. It's her kids birthday in a few days and she invited me, she said her kid would be happy to see me and get to know me.
I am so confused at the moment, like why they cut off contact with me and abandoned me without any reason in the first place? As a father I did whatever I could for them, I tried to give them the best education, they din't have stress of student loans, I never tried to bother with them anything, I respected their personal space but like they ghosted me for years and never cared to meet once. What I am supposed to do next? go for her kids birthday? I assume try to be normal and not talk to my daughter that what I did wrong that she cut me off from her life?
TLDR: My 2 daughters cut contact with me and ghosted me when they started their uni, for 10 years I had no contact with them even though I tried from my side, a few days ago I met my elder daughter, she invited me to her daughters birthday, I was really happy to meet her but I am confused that why she cut contact with me and if I was so bad then she would not invite me to her daughters birthday, what I am supposed to do next?

Hello fellow therapists!
Wondering how people recharge after work with this job. To be clear, I don’t really feel burnt out- I look forward to work, really enjoy my clients and overall feel really fulfilled! I’m just so fucking tired after work lol. I’m in private practice and see about 20-25 clients a week.
It’s hard to do anything other than zone out with my phone or tv after work. Hard to get the energy to exercise or do my regular hobbies like playing instruments or fiber crafts like embroidery and knitting. Weekends are a bit easier but not entirely.
Interested in what works for other people, maybe like a way to start the day or a ritual to end the workday or whatever else ya’ll do!

Y’all I can’t hold down a nursing job. There are many many reasons, many of which I’m sure you could guess.
I’ve been unemployed for 6 months. Almost all my jobs are contracts/short term. Going from most recent to my first job:

• 2021-22 public school nurse (3 sites, 3500 kids, not enough training or resources). I quit asking for support for months in the form of a full training and not receiving it. i was burnt tf out and left.
  
• 2022 private school summer camp covid testing (2 months. I did my job so well the position was actually dissolved after I left. they were unable to offer me part time or help with disability accommodations even though i disclosed in my interview, my agency was unable to help.
  
• 2020-21 adolescent eating disorder residential recovery (boss was abusive, the program had fraudulent licensing and asked RNs to break laws so they would not have to pay/hire more. I absolutely crushed it here, but it was toxic AF)
  
• my fav - 2020 covid vaccine nurse, sutter contract 6 months (i ran inventory and worked in the draw room reconstituting hundreds of vaccines a day.
  
• 2019-20 - charge nurse in federally funded skilled nursing facility (first nursing job, truly hel. Neglect, abuse, exploited employees, cutting corners, absolute nightmare 24 hour shifts, i was here when covid hit. it was not okay.)
  

Guys I am willing to leave nursing but I’m still hoping there is something within this system that isn’t broken, corrupt and traumatizing. I tend to burn out less with part time commitments and less inter-personal aspects of the job (covid vaccines I worked in the back, my final semester of nursing school clinical I was in OR-Pacu so most of my shift was monitoring and charting patients in surgery). Ugh Idk. I love special education, I did it before and after nursing school , but it’s impossible to be a public school nurse in Oakland.
I am desperate for guidance. I am considering landscaping, construction, single patient home care, personal assistant, nannying, anything.

I have been living in Austria for only 2 years so I’ll post in English
I became NOT health-insured about 2 weeks ago. So my e-card was not working.
Now I’ll start my new part-time job (Teilzeitbeschäftigung) on the 1st of June.
And the company will be of course responsible for my health insurance.
But when I told the woman at the HR that I’ll be a bit late on my first day of work (1. Jun) because I have 2 doctors’ appointments (one at my Internist and the other one at my Urologie) both are on the 1st of June (again my supposed first day of insurance) and both doctors are “ÖGK-Kassenärzte„.
She told me that it could take up to 3 days until my insurance is activated (freigeschaltet) with the Kasse. But it will be activated retroactively (rückwirckend) from the 1st of June.
She told me that in the worst case scenario, I would simply have to pay that as PRIVAT at first, and then the Krankenkasse will pay me everything back retroactively (rückwirckend) as long as my appointments are from the 1st of June and as long as the services I take are normally (Kassenleistungen).
Is what this woman said correct? Or will I end up paying some hundreds of Euros and won’t get them back.
Thanks a lot in advance!

Hi, I hope everyone is doing well, I have two daughters, one is 28 and the other one is 26.
We were a very happy family, we had no problems as such, me and my ex wife were earning well, we sent our daughters to a good expensive private school, whatever they needed, we provided, there were no such fights or anything, we used to go on vacations, everything seemed perfect, but 11 years ago my ex wife cheated on me and moved out, after 3 months she wanted to reconcile but everyone told me that she will cheat on me again and not to trust her cause in those 3 months she totally cut off contact with me and my daughters, I did wanted her back in my life cause I did love her so much but everyone advised me that she will cheat on me again and it will break me more.
My daughters were 17 and 15 respectively that time. As my ex wife abandoned us, I had to leave my job as I had to be out for like 3 or 4 days in a week, so I had to join a low paying job where I could be home everyday. After my eldest daughter turned 18, she joined Uni, I paid her tuition which was very expensive but I had savings, but in 2 months my daughter like ghosted me, she just cut off all contact with me for no specific reason, like in the beginning I understood that it's her new life and everyone needs time but she just totally cut me off.
I was trying to meet her, contact her but she was not interested at all. My younger daughter was still normal with me, she was angry at her sister because she was not talking to her also, when my younger daughter joined Uni, sadly she did the same thing that she just cut me off from her life.
I went through hell all these years, it was very hard for me, like what was the reason to just cut me off from their life, they did the same thing to me what their own mother did to them.
A few months ago I got to know through someone about my younger daughter living in awful conditions, I went to meet her, she is living in an awful place and sadly she is an addict now and even prostituting herself, it was really heart breaking to see her like this, she was such a bright student and a very happy person who was very kind to everyone. She is not in contact with her sister or her mother.
Now a few days ago I ran into my elder daughter at a store, I was happy to see her after such a long time, she is doing really good for herself, she was happy to see me too, she is married now and has a kid. She said she is not in contact with her younger sister or her mother, I told her what her younger sister is going through, she said she might go and visit her. It's her kids birthday in a few days and she invited me, she said her kid would be happy to see me and get to know me.
I am so confused at the moment, like why they cut off contact with me and abandoned me without any reason in the first place? As a father I did whatever I could for them, I tried to give them the best education, they din't have stress of student loans, I never tried to bother with them anything, I respected their personal space but like they ghosted me for years and never cared to meet once.
What I am supposed to do next? go for her kids birthday? I assume try to be normal and not talk to my daughter that what I did wrong that she cut me off from her life?
TLDR: My 2 daughters cut contact with me and ghosted me when they started their uni, for 10 years I had no contact with them even though I tried from my side, a few days ago I met my elder daughter, she invited me to her daughters birthday, I was really happy to meet her but I am confused that why she cut contact with me and if I was so bad then she would not invite me to her daughters birthday, what I am supposed to do next?

Order, Order.
We turn now to a Stage 3 Debate on SB226 in the name of the Scottish National Party. The question is that this Parliament approves the Miners’ Strike (Pardons) (Scotland) Bill

Miners’ Strike (Pardons) (Scotland) Bill

An Act of the Scottish Parliament to pardon certain individuals convicted of certain offences committed during the 1984-85 miners' strike.
Section 1: Definitions and Interpretations
(1) In section 2, “qualifying individual” means an individual, including a deceased individual, who—

(a) was a miner,
(b) was, at the time of the commission of the offence, a member of the same household as a miner, or
(c) was, at the time of the commission of the offence—

(i) a parent of a miner,
(ii) a child of a miner, or
(iii) a sibling of a miner.

(2) The offences referred to in section 2 are—

(a) breach of the peace,
(b) an offence under section 3 of the Bail etc. (Scotland) Act 1980 (breach of bail conditions),
(c) an offence under section 41(1)(a) of the Police (Scotland) Act 1967 (obstructing police etc.),
(d) theft.

(3) Section 2 does not—

(a) affect any conviction or sentence,
(b) give rise to any right, entitlement or liability, or
(c) affect the Royal prerogative of mercy.

(4) In this Act—

(a) “conviction” includes any finding in criminal proceedings that a person has committed an offence or done the act or made the omission charged (including a finding linked with mental disorder or in respect of which an admonition or absolute discharge is made), and “convicted” is to be construed accordingly,
(b) “household” means a group of people living together as a family or other unit (whether or not related) in a private dwelling, who—

(i) have the dwelling as their only or main residence, and
(ii) share living accommodation and cooking facilities,

(c) “miner” means an individual who at any time during the period beginning with 12 March 1984 and ending with 3 March 1985 was employed in any part of Great Britain—

(i) by the National Coal Board established under section 1 of the Coal Industry Nationalisation Act 1946, or
(ii) by a person holding a licence granted under section 36(2)(a) of that Act,

(d) “miners’ strike” means the national concerted stoppage of work by miners led by the National Union of Mineworkers,
(e) “sibling of a miner” means an individual who has at least one parent in common with a miner.

Section 2: Pardons for certain individuals convicted of certain offences committed during miners’ strike
(1) A qualifying individual who has been convicted of an offence listed in subsection 1.2 is pardoned for the offence if the conduct constituting the offence—

(a) occurred during the period beginning with 12 March 1984 and ending with 3 March 1985, and
(b) in relation to—

(i) an offence listed in subsection 1.2(a) to (c), meets condition A or condition B, or
(ii) the offence of theft, meets condition C.

(2) Condition A is that the conduct—

(a) occurred while the individual was engaged or participating in—

(i) activity (whether or not organised) supporting or opposing the miners’ strike, or
(ii) activity ancillary to such activity (for example, assembling before or after or travelling to or from such activity), and

(b) did not occur for a reason unrelated to the miners’ strike (for example, a disagreement about a personal matter).

(3) Condition B is that the conduct—

(a) occurred in response to conduct that meets condition A, and
(b) did not occur for a reason unrelated to the miners’ strike.

(4) Condition C is that the conduct occurred because of economic hardship arising from participation (whether by the individual or another person) in the miners’ strike.
Section 3: Commencement
(1) This Act comes into force on the day after Royal Assent.
Section 4: Short title
(2) The short title of this act is the Miners’ Strike (Pardons) (Scotland) Act.
This bill was submitted by the Rt Hon. NewAccountMcGee PC MP MSP MS, Leader of the Scottish National Party, MSP for Na h-Eileanan an Iar, on behalf of the Scottish National Party.
This bill was based on the Miners’ Strike (Pardons) (Scotland) Act 2022.

Opening Speech

Oifigear-riaghlaidh,
The Miners’ Strike of 1984/85 is a year-long stain on Scotland, and Britain’s, history. Not only did many miners have their pits closed and jobs lost, they also lost out on redundancy payments and pension contributions. Removing the stigma of a criminal record is one way we can help Scotland’s mining communities, which need much, much more help from the Government. I commend this bill to the Parliament.
Debate on this bill will end at the close of business on 31st May at 10pm BST

a few weeks ago i remember seeing an ad for a job opening that specifically mentioned that the applicant must be from a reputable private university auc,aast,bue etc.
since i have no work experience and i don’t know how the system works in egypt i was wondering does it actually matter which college you went to in terms of hiring and stuff? specifically concerning private jobs not in the public sector.
and will going to a private university benefit me career wise? doesn’t necessarily have to be in terms of which jobs will hire from public universities and which jobs won’t but more of like intern opportunities, connections or networking.

My name is Samir, and I'm a 29-year-old who moved to Casa from my hometown, Beni Mellal, two years ago. Ever since the move, I've noticed some unwanted weight gain. I blame it on my sedentary office job and my unhealthy eating habits, particularly my love for junk food. However, things have taken a turn for the better as I recently transitioned to working from home, which has granted me some extra time, especially in the mornings.
With this newfound flexibility, I've decided to take charge of my health and fitness. But there's one crucial element I'm missing—a gym or running partner who can help motivate me and keep me accountable on this journey.
Ideally, I'm looking for someone who shares a similar schedule, so we can work out together consistently. If you live in Casa [ Maarif ] or the surrounding area and are interested in becoming my gym or running partner, please reach out! Let's embark on this fitness adventure together, supporting each other every step of the way.
As for the activities, I'm open to suggestions. We could hit the gym for weightlifting, cardio, or classes, or take up running outdoors to explore the beautiful scenery Casa has to offer. I'm also open to other physical activities that promote a healthy lifestyle and keep us engaged.
So, if you're ready to commit to a healthier and more active lifestyle and are searching for a partner to share this exciting journey with, please leave a comment or send me a private message. Let's make this year the one where we transform ourselves and achieve our fitness goals together!
Looking forward to hearing from you!

I'm in college (20M) and I'm on the school triathlon team. I've been talking to a girl 19F who is on the team as well. I've known her for about a year and I like her. She asked me to her sorority date event (she called it her "sorority event" when she asked me) at a bowling alley which didn't go all that well. The environment/situation was a little bit awkward. A few days later I asked her if she wanted to hangout just the two of us, so we went for a two hour walk and talked which went moderately well; she seemed a bit guarded/standoffish but we had plenty of good conversation and there were defiantly moments where things were going well.I didn't really know what to make of that hangout/date and I didn't want to make the dynamic on the team weird or awkward if I played the situation wrong. So I just didn't talk to her about it/bring it up again (basically ghosted her) (facepalm).I really couldn't read her. I couldn't tell if she liked me or was just waiting until she had an excuse to leave. I could feel the rift in our friendship at practice over the next few weeks. We had a race and we avoided each other, the few times we interacted, it felt very clinical/utilitarian (no joking or anything like normal). Then 3-4 weeks after that race and with one of our bigger races and national championship coming up where we travel 15+ hours together and spend a few days together we got back to having fun/joking interactions with a little light flirting. During the championship race where we (the whole team of 20ish people) spent a few days together out of state, she seemed to have opened back up, she tried watching a movie with me and didn't have any issues joking around with me/talking to me. When we got back to the city where we go to school around midnight we got a ride from a friend back to where we live. Her and I sat in the back seat together and it just felt a bit awkward. After the championship we kept having good/somewhat flirty interactions (end of year party, practices, other social events). I had her bike pump, so when I was moving out of my place, I dropped it off at her place and I really wanted to talk to her about everything before she went to her hometown for the summer, but I wimped out. A few weeks into not seeing her over this summer (3-4 weeks), I texted her to ask how her summer was going and we've been talking (texting) everyday for the last week.
A few other things:

1. She comes from money (sorority girl, drives a jeep, the whole nine yards), I'm the son of a carpenter and corporate recruter, both my parents went to college. The only reason I'm in school is because I got a scholarship (my family isn't poor by any means $100-200K/year two income family in a bigger city where that money doesn't go super far, but we have a house and two cars). I always though my family was very well off (which I still think we are, I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunities I have) I've spent the last few years of my life working on an ambulance and the last eight years building houses with my dad (homeschooled and worked full-time) which has given me a real view into how lucky I am. But to be honest, her family's money intimidates me a bit; she's pretty well adjusted for the kid of a hedge fund manager (or some kind of finance job). But the whole sorority thing scares me a bit, when I went to the date event, I didn't really know how to fit in or talk to the other guys there; they were talking about their houses, the private schools they went to and their fancy vacations. A whole nother level of rich I didn't know existed, apart from the redneck rich construction company owners that I knew, I never really knew or interacted with many people who's family had real money (worth 10 or 20 million or more). But when I went to this sorority event you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting 5 BMW driving, private school kids. That environment just seems fake to me, and I can tell that she acted different/more reserved around her sorority friends.
2. When she's around her sorority friends, she's so proper, she doesn't talk as much, and she's more reserved. She seems like she's trying to fit in with them more instead of being herself. Same thing when we went on that walk, she seemed shy and more reserved than when we're together with the team. I get that it's a comfort thing; she's more comfortable around the team, so she's more relaxed and feels like she can be herself. I like her when she's who she is, so it makes me sad when she hides that.
3. She's never been in a relationship. That's totally ok with me and I can relate, I didn't start dating until the end of my senior year. She hasn't ever had a boyfriend, or had sex or really done much other than kiss a guy. Again, thats totally ok with me, but its a bit intimidating. I care about her, I don't want to go to kiss her if thats a really big step for her. Or, I don't want to touch her at the wrong time when she's not comfortable with it. I've had sex, kissed women, all that, and I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable. When we rode in the ride share together to the bowling alley, all the other guys sat next to their date and I left a seat between us (which I sort of regret), I didn't know if she meant for it to be a date or if she was just asking me as a friend so I left some space which later on seemed like a mistake. I just don't want to be creepy or make her fell uncomfortable.

How do I approach this situation? I like her, and I want to ask her out again/talk to her more, but she's out of town until school starts back in mid August. Do I just keep texting her until we get closer to school starting or would it be good to talk to her about how I feel more immediately? I don't want her to loose interest if I'm just texting her everyday for three months without it going anywhere. I don't really know what to make of the situation.

Me and my friend have been close for about 7 months now.
We’ve talked on the phone every day, send memes to each other, text, and play games and whatnot.
She has a boyfriend and me and the boyfriend are fine and don’t have a problem with each other. We’ve actually communicated privately before.
Well the reason she doesn’t wanna give me her number is to “respect the relationship she has with her boyfriend” which is valid. She set that boundary up 2 months ago and I respect it till right now. I mean it’s not a surprise that friends have each others numbers right? Why are we communicating over a texting application if we’re friends?
That’s not what confuses me however this is. She was playing a voicemail back to when she applied to her job application, in the voicemail she said her number and when that part started playing, after the first three digits she jumped back really uncomfortably stating “ woah woah woah!” Like we just met and i’m a stranger She just almost leaked her social security number to.
And 2 days later I was joking about how she did that, and she looks dead in the camera and asks me “we’re you listening for my phone number?” So by this statement alone I don’t even think she wants to respect her relationship, she just doesn’t trust me for some reason.
And if that’s the case I don’t understand why your gossiping to me about your relationship issues, friendship issues, and personal family things when I can’t even have your number? It’s kinda like we’re very close until something (her number) comes up that shouldn’t even come up but should be automatic.
She’s a good friend too. It’s not like she calls me only for emotional support and whatnot, i call her too and she helps me out with things I need help with and doesn’t half ass it.
I just don’t like how she’s molding me into a friend she wants me to be, like I’m some robot to not ask questions.

--- Table of Contents ---
Spring 4984, 9 Kuromoth, Spring Equinox
“Archmage, I thought you had already gone…” Brom’s voice, beyond Her door. She didn’t move, didn’t bother to look towards the closed portal. Had it been months or years since he'd last come to sit with Her?
“I will be leaving presently…” Archmage Morndancer’s cold voice answered. She squeezed tighter into Her little ball in the dark corner. It didn’t matter that he would be gone. He left the tower often, but it didn’t stop Her punishment. Even as the season turned from winter to spring, She'd stayed locked in Her room. With no books and no company. Occasionally being taken out to give samples in a lab completely separate from that of Her treasures. Only their yowls and barks from down the hall offering any comfort.
“It’s an important day, isn’t it, Archmage? Perhaps Sellon will pass the test.” Ran’s voice. Did he sound nervous? Her head tilted, just a little, towards the door. The half-circle of light from Her window did very little to banish the darkness of the room. She hadn’t bothered to light the candles. What was the point?
Morndancer scoffed, “Doubtful. Ronni didn’t manage it. And just as his sister before him, Sellon will join the Mages Guild whether he passes or not.” Sellon and Ronni, Archmage Morndancer’s children. She'd heard of them from Brom and Ran. So they were Mages as well. Perhaps they would be the ones to come take Her blood and cut Her hair in future. It didn’t matter. Nothing had ever mattered.
“But a Wizard-Cleric of Saint Bede might…”
“Enough.” Morndancer interrupted Brom, “Bede is no god, he wasn't even a decent Mage, he was and is a villain. We would not have this responsibility to save the world if he and his lot hadn’t doomed it.”
“Of course, Archmage, yes.” nervous feet shuffled outside Her door.
“Even now, Shaloon is trying to locate the next storm.” Morndancer continued his chastisement, “They come more frequently and destroy greater swaths of land. If we continue to be as useless as the other Talons, there will be no world left to save. So rather than waste your time on prayers to usurper gods, you had best refocus and redouble your efforts while we are away. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Archmage,” Brom and Ran said in unison.
“Good. And be sure to return those to the library when you have finished with them.” the hiss of fabric on stone accompanied the Archmage's exit.
Her door handle jingled, and Her head came up a fraction, but, “Wait…” Brom’s whisper. Silence followed, and She dropped Her head again, pressing her closed eyes into Her knees. Minutes passed, or was it hours? Did it matter? Maybe She would crawl into Her bed and try to sleep. Time passed faster that way. Or maybe She would just stay here in Her little ball in the corner.
“He should be gone by now…” Her lock clicked, and the door creaked open, but She didn’t bother to look up, “Goldy? Maybe She’s sleeping…” Brom whispered.
“Damn, it’s dark in here. Red, can we get a light?” She didn’t answer Ran’s request. What was the point? They would find Her and they would take Her for samples. She didn’t have to help them do it. “Grab the candle from the table, Brom. My hands are full.”
She could feel the life of a tiny flame beyond Her door. Felt it draw closer and enter Her room before it flickered and died. “Oh, Goldy… please don’t…” the shuffling of feet moving carefully in the darkness came closer. She tried to pull in tighter, tucking Her head against Her chest and letting Her now shoulder-length hair fall forward to further hide Her face.
They crouched at either side of Her, Brom setting the useless candle down to Her left with a soft ‘tink’ of brass on stone. Something much heavier was placed on Her right, the familiar scents of hardbound leather, paper, and ink… “We brought you some books, Red…”
She lifted Her head, looking through the tangled strands of golden hair and seeing a pair of worried faces looming in the dark. “If you light up the room a bit, we can read,” Brom slowly pushed Her hair back, careful not to touch Her skin. As though She would burn him. She might have. If She could find the energy.
“You’re not supposed to...” Her voice crackled from lack of use, making Her whisper even more inaudible.
“What?” Ran leaned closer, but She didn’t repeat Herself, “It’s been months, Red. You’re not in trouble anymore.”
She blinked silently at him.
“Look, Goldy,” Brom shuffled forward, still in his crouch, “things can go back to normal now. The Archmage will be out for a few days. We can take you to play with the animals tomorrow.” She shifted Her blank stare to him. Brom waited for a moment, searching Her face for a familiar flicker of excitement. She didn’t give it to him. He sighed, “We’ll leave these with you then. You can read them when you’re ready.”
Brom made to stand, but She grabbed the hem of his sleeve, “Stay with me…” On the candle, the smallest of lights began to flicker to life. Brom sat down with a groan, and on Her other side, Ran plopped down even less gracefully.
He leaned his back against Her bed and picked the top book off the small pile they'd brought Her, “We can stay until lunch, Goldy.”
“But we still have a lot of work to do…”
It was enough. The candle burned brighter, and She shifted Her legs down, taking the book Ran passed to Her. Things would finally be returning to normal. As they always had been, and as they always would be.
***
Shon woke long before the kitchen servant would come to fetch him. Everything was the same, and yet nothing would ever be as it was before. Sitting up, he ran his fingers through his hair, only to realize that everything wasn't the same. The other two boys who'd reached maturity were also awake. It looked like Gaven hadn’t slept at all, his sandy hair tousled and his dark eyes bloodshot.
“This is it then… the last morning in the dorms?” Gaven whispered the useless question. Nan, the oldest by a month, nodded in silence. Shon didn’t bother with even that much, swinging his legs off the bed and kicking something. Another difference. A final gift from the Church. A leather pack for him to carry everything he owned.
Shon dressed in silence only broken by the shuffle of the other two joining him. After tying his boots, he started packing the bag. It was large enough to fit all of his clothes and even his seven journals, though the eighth made it a very tight fit.
“Should we make the beds?” Nan whispered. Again, Shon didn’t answer. Instead, he stripped the blanket and sheets from the mattress, folding them neatly and placing them with the pillow at the foot of the bed.
“Yeah… they'll have to strip them to wash anyway…” Gaven said, following Shon’s example.
They'd just finished when the door creaked open. Normally woken by the morning bells, Gaven and Nan both jumped, looking from the dark window to the door then at each other.
The servant girl who usually woke Shon looked in on them with some confusion, then hummed in understanding before holding the door open for them, “Come on then. There may be some leftover dessert you can have while we make breakfast…”
Shon doubted he could eat anything at the moment. His stomach worked itself in knots that put an uncomfortable pressure on his heart that in turn seemed as though it wanted to beat its way into his throat. The entire sensation made him feel a strange sort of nauseous. Nan and Gaven looked no better than he felt, and they both swallowed before exiting the room. Gaven took a moment to look back over his shoulder before shaking himself and setting his eyes forward. Nan seemed to rush from the room, too afraid to look back. Shon took one last look around before following, the door clicking closed behind them.
He let the other boys walk ahead of him and wondered what they were thinking. Gaven would be taking the test with him today, but Nan had been selected to join the Masons Guild and had opted to accept the offer right away rather than try for one of the divine orders first. Perhaps Nan was the smartest of them.
“We'll miss you…” the servant girl whispered so only Shon could hear, “It isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work... if you want to join the Servants Guild…” the Servants Guild was a loose association of otherwise privately employed cleaners and cooks. It was the last choice for orphans, but also their most common destination. She'd meant the offer as a kindness, so Shon nodded in thanks, though nothing but the most desperate situation would ever see him join.
The head cook looked up as they entered the kitchen, nodding in understanding, “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked Nan and Gaven, who mumbled incoherently in response. To Shon, the cook smiled, offering only a silent nod.
The girl who'd reached maturity with them was already in the dining room, staring mournfully at a plate of hastily scrambled eggs and a few cookies from the night before.
“Hey Lara, couldn’t sleep anymore either?” Gaven asked with a strained smile. Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and tried to force down some of the breakfast. She'd been accepted into the Tailors Guild, but unlike Nan, had chosen to take the test with Shon and Gavin. Just in case.
The cook himself brought the boys their plates of eggs and cookies, and they ate in silence until the morning bells sounded. The three unused to being up early jumped at the sound, exchanging nervous looks. Their juniors and the priests would come flooding in soon, laughing and talking and enjoying another breakfast with friends and the closest thing they had to family. It would be the last time the four of them ate with the others in this room.
Shon didn’t know if he could take the bustle today, even if it was the last. Or maybe because it was. He stood, taking his mostly full plate and returning it to the kitchen. The cook looked from the untouched food to Shon and back again, then picked up a pair of cookies and held them out to him, “You might not be able to eat now, but you can save these for after.”
Shon took the gift, meeting the cook's eyes and nodding in silent thanks. The cook returned the nod and Shon left the kitchen without looking back. He slipped the cookies into one of the side pockets of his new pack as he made his way to the courtyard. He passed the bathroom, its wall lined with low-hanging sinks and a single long mirror. He'd practiced arching his eyebrows in that mirror...
Entering the courtyard, Shon hesitated, remembering his first early morning. When he couldn’t sleep for excitement at the mere possibility of training with a real adventurer. He'd wanted to learn to fight, but more than that, he'd wanted to learn how to train. After all, he would be doing a lot of that once he joined the Temple. It would be helpful to have a head start… Or, that's what he'd told himself back then.
Shon shut the door with a click of finality that rang in the still morning air. To his left were the classrooms where the city's children took lessons. Just thinking about his last lesson, with only those coming of age, still made him blush. To his right was the door to the chapel, where he'd sat with the other orphans through the weekly sermons. Shon respected the god of life and healing, but Soleil had never been his patron. Across from him was the clinic, where the Clerics of Soleil saw to the needs of the sick and injured. He'd only been sent there once, after breaking his arm trying to climb the tree in the courtyard.
Shon would have no need to pray to Soleil specifically, and the Temple kept their own clinic... if he passed. If he didn't... There was a chance he would see the clinic again, perhaps the chapel...
Shon stepped off the walkway surrounding the central tree, and a familiar voice sounded from its roots, “Feeling up to a few exercises?” Master Veon-Zih asked, rising from his cross-legged seat in one fluid motion. Shon stopped in their little clearing and nodded, letting his pack slide off his shoulder and flop heavily to the ground. “I take it there's nothing fragile in there then?” Veon-Zih asked with a chuckle.
The idea that a thirteen-year-old would have something valuable or fragile enough to break just by dropping the bag finally pulled Shon all the way out of his contemplations. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at his master.
“There, that’s more like it. You looked like a rather well-preserved zombie.” Veon-Zih took Shon by the shoulder, shaking him, “Not a thought in your head, or skip in your step.”
Shon shook his head, sinking into his horse stance to start his drills. He punched with his left fist first, and Veon-Zih took position just out of reach, so Shon’s knuckles barely brushed the fabric of his tunic. Shon held the position until Veon-Zih also threw his first punch. He aimed for Shon’s face, sending a wave of air and ki over his skin and nearly touching his nose. Shon didn’t flinch.
They worked through their punches in unison, nearly touching but never quite connecting. Shon worked in silence for a while then said, “Too many thoughts…”
“And none of them new, I’m sure,” Veon-Zih commented.
Shon nodded, “The same ones circle again and again. Even though I can’t do anything about them... yet.”
“Not until after the test.”
Shon had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat and nodded again, unable to speak even if he'd wanted to.
Veon-Zih moved on to the next strike, and Shon copied him. He'd lost count of the punches but followed his Master's lead. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Master Veon-Zih asked.
Shon shook his head but then sighed. Most people seemed to like thinking out loud, especially when troubled. He didn’t understand why, but his usual quiet contemplation wasn’t working, so maybe… “If I don’t pass…”
“I would think of all days, today would be the one to take a break!” Father Branston called from the chapel door. He began strolling towards them with a broad smile, “Do you think you’ll be done in time to join me?”
Was it time already? Shon glanced around, noticing Nan, Gaven, and Lara approaching from the living quarter, all looking pale, their lips drawn in tight unsmiling lines.
Veon-Zih hadn’t come up from his stance, so neither did Shon, but the Monk did laugh, “Keeping a routine can be soothing in times of great change.” he winked at Shon, “Even if it’s a positive change.”
Shon tried to smile at Veon-Zih’s apparent show of faith but wasn’t sure if he'd managed it. What if…?
“Well, I don’t want to rush you. Can I trust you to get Shon to the Chapel on time if I take the others now?” Father Branston laughed as though he'd said something particularly humourous, his great belly bouncing with mirth.
“We'll be there.” Master Veon-Zih assured Father Branston, and Shon nodded mutely, resuming his drills and trying not to watch the others leave. “We have plenty of time,” Veon-Zih whispered, “Take a few deep breaths. It's the end of your childhood, not your life.”
They moved from drills to kata. Master Veon-Zih stayed in front of Shon, moving with him and matching his routine strikes with the appropriate counters. “You were saying?” it had been awhile since Shon had tried to speak, though his head continued to spin with the half-formed thoughts.
“I don’t want to think about not passing,” Shon said, kicking high and hitting Veon-Zih’s waiting arm.
“Do you believe such thoughts will jinx you?”
Shon dropped his kick and punched as the kata dictated. Veon-Zih was right; working through their regular routines did seem to help calm his pounding heart. “I don’t know… Maybe? It’s stupid, though. Whether I pass or not was decided when I was born. It won’t change just because I think about it.”
“Emotions are rarely logical.” Veon-Zih smacked Shon’s punch aside at the last moment, and Shon moved smoothly from that strike to the next, “It’s normal to be nervous. One of your peers is just as nervous, and he already knows where he’s going.”
“They all do…” Shon mumbled, snap kicking straight in front of him, confident in his Master’s speed to dodge and counter.
Veon-Zih did indeed dodge, but instead of the usual counter he hooked Shon’s foot with his own and tried to pull him off balance. Shon only stumbled for a moment, shifting his form to a different kata and counter, his body moving before his mind could catch up. Veon-Zih spoke as they continued the different form without finishing the first, prompting, “Even those taking the test have other plans, just in case?”
“Lara was accepted by the Tailors, and Gaven is going to enlist in the guard…” They had sped up the pace, and Shon needed to concentrate, now on edge in case Master Veon-Zih decided to shift the practice again. A few more strikes in, the Monk dropped below Shon’s punch and swung at his ribs, forcing Shon to block. Shon switched the kata to his most recent on instinct, using the block to redirect the punch rather than stop it as the original kata would have dictated.
Veon-Zih smiled, his eyes twinkling at the move as he picked up the pace even further, “Both of those are honest jobs and noble callings.” Shon could only grunt in response, now moving too fast for him to think of anything but the exercise. Veon-Zih continued, “The enlisted make up the bulk of Hengist’s armies, and their loyalty is admirable. The Tailors Guild not only clothes the populace but often creates beautiful works of art that serve to enhance the natural beauty of the human form.”
The Master hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Shon had to gasp out, “But I don’t-” before he was interrupted by another unexpected punch. He countered but then disengaged, breathing deep and slow, “What will I do? If I don’t pass? I thought about joining the enlisted too but…” but the idea of being so close, and yet so impossibly far from his failed dream, pained him in a way he couldn’t put into words.
When Shon didn’t continue, Veon-Zih asked, “Will you reconsider joining me then?”
Shon blinked at the Monk, his eyes going wide. He'd thought he'd lost his chance with the Monastery when he'd denied Veon-Zih for the Temple three years ago, “You mean you'll still take me?” he stammered out.
Veon-Zih closed the distance between them and placed a firm hand on Shon’s shoulder, “So long as you are an obedient and willing student, remember?”
Shon’s eyes burned and another lump rose in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He nodded, and Veon-Zih smiled, turning away from him so Shon could rub his eyes without the Monk seeing. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of failing, but he felt a little more at ease, knowing he wouldn’t be alone even if he did.
“Shall we go then?” Veon-Zih scooped up Shon’s pack and held it out to him, “Destiny awaits no man.”
***
The Grand Chapel was dedicated to all the gods of the kingdom, and though today it was closed to the public, the doors were still crowded with families from every walk of life. Merchants and craftsmen mingled excitedly with one another while their children nervously awaited the start of the test that would determine the trajectory of the rest of their lives. A smaller group of only two families stood apart from the throng. Dressed in fine clothes and protected by private guards, the nobles surveyed the commoners with a detached air as though above the gods themselves. The boy Shon often saw at the Temple was among them.
Shon stopped just outside the crowd, arching his neck to try and see the doors. His quiet dread had turned to jitters of nervousness as he and Master Veon-Zih walked through the city. He wasn’t sure if he'd wanted to run or stop moving altogether. Now that they were here, he tried to distract himself by studying the faces and movements of those gathered. Though if he tried to draw them now, the shaking of his hands would probably make the pictures impossible to decipher.
The differences between the nobles and commoners, in particular, caught his eye. One of the nobles, a man of middling years, wore long robes with a high collar buttoned tight to his neck and looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. Shon had just finished scanning up the man’s robes when their eyes met. A shiver, entirely unrelated to the general anxiety of the test, ran down his spine.
The noble’s eyes went wide, and he started for Shon, the edge of the crowd giving way for him like the sea before a ship. “You…” his voice was breathy, and he reached out. Shon stepped back and ran into Master Veon-Zih, “They are back, truly?” the strange man asked, his eyes fixed on Shon who could only stare in bewilderment.
“My good lord Morndancer!” Father Branston’s joy-filled greeting sounded from the side, “So your youngest has come of age has he?” the Abbot seemed to snap the noble from his focus, and he turned away from Shon as Branston made his way through the crowd, Lara and Gaven close behind.
“Yes, Abbot.” Morndancer surveyed the Cleric with what Shon could only describe as contempt, though the look hardly wiped the wide smile from Branston’s face, “Will we be starting soon? Sellon and I have business with the Mages Guild.”
“Though if young Sellon should find himself capable…” Branston started, but the noble snorted. “Ah well, to each their own.” Branston finished, turning away from Morndancer to address his young charges.
From a pouch on his belt, Father Branston pulled forth three small books that shouldn’t have been able to fit in the little bag, “I present to you, your papers.” He fanned the books out before him, and each of them took the one closest to them. They were bound in leather with the seal of the Kingdom of Daanlin embossed on the cover. The knight on the kingdom seal rode a horse and held a shield with the seal of Clearhelm on it, three tall pine trees in front of a snow-capped mountain.
Their papers were proof of their citizenship and would serve as a record of their lives and accomplishments. Master Veon-Zih had shown Shon his own papers months before. It held a record of every border he had ever crossed and every teleport he had ever taken, as well as proof of all of his adventures and every job performed for any of the kingdom’s organizations. Veon-Zih’s papers were a veritable tome compared to Shon’s meager notebook. Opening it to the first page, Shon saw his name followed by his presumed place and date of birth. It detailed that he had been raised in the Church in Smildna and when he had come of age. At the bottom was a place labeled but left blank for the date and results of today’s test…
Branston was still speaking to them, but Shon only partly registered the words, “You should keep your papers on you whenever possible. You will need them to reenter the city any time you leave…”
Veon-Zih placed a hand on Shon’s shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise. Leaning down, the Monk whispered in his ear, “Soon this book will be full of your adventures and accomplishments. Regardless of what happens today.”
“Abbot,” Morndancer interjected as Father Branston finished his explanation, “the test? Some of us have places to be.”
“Yes, yes, patience is a virtue, my dear Lord Morndancer. The sun will rise no faster with you tapping your foot at its pace.” he lowered his voice and continued to address the anxious children, “I am so very proud of all of you. Know that no matter what is discovered today, the light of Soleil will always shine with joy at what you have and will accomplish in your lives.” Shon wondered if any of the adults realized that their constant efforts to comfort their nerves seemed to be having the opposite effect. Shon’s palms were sweating as he closed his papers, and he had to wipe them on his pants to try and distract himself from his pounding heart.
“Follow me,” Branston turned away, walking through the middle of the crowd that had suddenly grown hush at his movement towards the door. Veon-Zih gave Shon one last pat, then slipped Shon’s pack from his back and tossed it over his own shoulder. Letting his student know without words that he would be waiting for Shon to return, one way or another.
Shon could feel the eyes of the noble Morndancer boring into him as he followed Father Branston through the throng towards the Grand Chapel. What was that man's problem? Who was back? Shon was too distracted by the test to dwell on it, but the man had made his skin crawl, and having him at his back wasn’t helping his nerves.
Father Branston turned to address the crowd as the doors began to swing open, “The testers will enter alone and present their papers to the clerks by the door. Families and friends may wait outside until the test is complete.” Nervous adolescents made their way forward, careful not to jostle one another, many accepting last-minute hugs and well wishes from their families.
Shon thought he remembered the Grand Chapel well from his visit almost six years ago, but was struck again by the beauty of its art. The masterwork statues and carvings were outshone only by the stained glass dome that painted the round floor in bright light of every color he could imagine.
Of the ten gods, eight representatives stood opposite the doors, waiting quietly while the testers handed their papers to the clerks and shuffled nervously in the middle of the majestic holy site. Neither the Temples of Horsa nor Saint Giorgos were present. Their absence wasn’t surprising. The Temple of Saint Giorgos only took those of noble birth and would give their tests separately, and the Temple of Horsa was openly shunned in Clearhelm, its only branch located in the capital city of Tarorn.
Shon handed one of three clerks his papers. She took them with only a glance, hastily scribbling Shon’s name on a long list before handing the book to one of the others who wrote the date in the spot allocated. By the time all the testers had filtered in, there were about twenty young boys and girls huddled in the center of the room.
The Cleric of Hengist, in robes of white and blue, stepped forward to address them. “You are gathered here today in the hopes of being chosen to serve. To serve the province, the kingdom, and most importantly, the gods. But before the gods can choose you to act as their divine hands and voice, you must train and study hard their tenants and virtues. And before even that, your body must be able to hold and direct their power. For a feather that cannot hold ink will never be a quill. This is not a test of your worth but of your natural, innate ability.”
As he spoke, two other Clerics, Father Branston of Soleil and a female in the colors of Lune, stepped forward, each holding something round covered with a dark cloth. The Cleric of Hengist continued, “Very few are born with the capacity to touch the divine, there is no shame in failing.” the Clerics of Soleil and Lune removed the protective coverings and everyone had to shield their eyes from the brilliant light that flared in Father Branston’s hand.
Squinting as his eyes adjusted, Shon could just make out an orb glowing in a bowl in the Abbot’s hands. The Cleric of Lune held a similar sphere, though it appeared dead beside the brilliance of the other. “When we call your name, you will touch the empty vessel,” the Cleric of Hengist gestured towards the unlit stone, “and then you will touch the vessel filled with divine magic,” with his other hand, he gestured towards the light. “Do not hold the stone for longer than a moment. If your body is unable to channel the magic it could do serious harm,” he warned.
“Trase,” one of the clerks called from the door, reading off the list they'd compiled. A tall boy stepped forward on shaking feet. He approached the Clerics, who nodded solemnly, all encouraging smiles gone. Reaching out, he touched the unlit orb, then with a deep breath, reached for the glowing vessel.
Nothing happened. Trase pulled his hands back, and Branston whispered -though all could hear in the stillness of the room- “It’s alright lad, you may go…”
“Anhala,” the clerk called, and a girl jumped before rushing forward to try.
The first six failed before a girl named Gena reached shaking hands to the orbs. As her fingers brushed the light vessel, the dead sphere in her other hand began to glow. She gasped, holding tight to both globes, now both shining brightly.
“Congratulations, my dear, you may choose an order…” the Cleric of Hengist gestured to the altars around the Chapel. Gena pulled her hands back slowly, and the unlit stone died once again. Shon watched as she walked to the altar of Soleil to await the end of the test before beginning her life as an adept in training at the Church.
“Shaclin Ebonheart,” the noble boy Shon often saw at the Temple stepped forward, rubbing his hands on his pants before reaching for the orbs. Nothing. He held on, and Father Branston gently removed the boy’s fingers from the light orb. Shaclin pulled away sharply, clutching his hand to his chest and whimpering. His skin had grown red and blistered.
“I’m sorry…” the Cleric of Hengist whispered.
Shaclin turned away without a word and strode for the door, still clutching his burned hand, silent tears staining his cheeks.
I won’t cry… I won’t… “Shon,” Shon closed his eyes, imagining himself in the Temple chapel with its calm silence and soothing scent of incense. He could almost smell it when he opened his eyes and moved forward.
Time slowed down… it took hours to reach the Clerics. Days to raise his hand to touch the dark orb. Now that he was closer he saw that they were actually crystals, tumbled into perfectly smooth spheres. His palm covered the dead stone, and it felt cool, as though it had just been dug from the ground by adventurous children. He reached for the stone bathed in light, feeling the warmth radiate off it before he even made contact. It wasn’t nearly hot enough to burn, and yet Shaclin’s hand had shown blisters.
Shon touched the stone. The warmth filled his fingers and crawled up his arm. It flooded his body like a vessel being filled with water before flowing out his other arm and down his hand. The dead stone came to life, its coolness replaced by the warmth of the divine magic, using him as its conduit connecting the two.
“Congratulations, son, you may choose an order…”
Time sped back up, and Shon let his hands slide off the stones. “Congratulations,” Father Branston echoed, nodding towards the altar of Hengist, “The rest is up to you.”
Only two others passed the test. A girl with long auburn hair and green eyes had joined the Temple with Shon, and a boy had gone to the Church of Saint Bjarki. They stood by their respective altars as the last of the failed testers left the Chapel. Gaven and Lara managed strained smiles at Shon as they left. He attempted to return them but wasn't sure if he'd managed it. The eight Clerics all breathed sighs of relief as the last left, and Branston and the Cleric of Lune returned the covers over the stones. Though still lit by the light through the colored dome, the Chapel seemed so much darker without the divine light to fill it.
“Four this year! An entire fifth!” the Druid of Cathbad exclaimed, her brown and green robes rustling as she danced in place.
“Yes, quite remarkable. Twice the average.” the Cleric of Saint Bede agreed. Though he resisted dancing for joy.
The Cleric of Hengist was also smiling broadly, though when he spoke, it was to the kids, “You may spend the afternoon with your families. Report to your chosen order before sixth bell.”
The girl who also joined the Temple of Hengist, Daisy, gave Shon a warm smile and hurried with the others to retrieve her papers. Now marked with their status as divine conduits. Shon walked behind them, his nervousness replaced with excited anticipation. He felt somehow full and empty all at once. With one door open, another had closed...
Shon stepped into the morning light to find the crowd had cleared. Only the three families of his fellows remained, hugging and kissing their children in joy. “We shall have a feast fit for the King!” Daisy’s father exclaimed, lifting her into the air as if she were no more than five. Shon’s stomach growled.
“Hungry?” Veon-Zih asked, stepping out from beside the door and presenting Shon with his pack. Shon felt his cheeks go red, and Veon-Zih laughed, rubbing his own belly, “I could use some lunch myself.”
Hastily Shon dropped his pack and rifled through the outside pockets, finding the cookies in the last one left to check. They were cracked and crumbled in some places, but he held one out to Veon-Zih regardless.
The Monk took it with a bow, “I am trying to resist being disappointed.” he confessed as Shon eagerly shoved his own broken cookie in his mouth.
He nearly choked, and Veon-Zih patted his back hard, not helping. Shon managed to swallow, then stammered, “Master, I…”
Veon-Zih interrupted with a laugh loud enough to fill the empty entryway, “Just promise me you won’t let your new studies dull your old. I plan on testing you with each visit.”
"Visit?" Something Shon couldn’t name filled his chest with warmth reminiscent of the divine light, "Test? You..." He thought he might burst with barely contained hope. No one could be so blessed... "You'll still train me?" Shon asked.
“I happen to be good friends with one of your future teachers at Hamerfoss.” Veon-Zih stated for the first time, “I’m sure he'll welcome my visits. If you'll have me…”
Shon didn’t have words for an answer. Instead, he lunged forward, wrapping Veon-Zih in the first and only hug he could remember giving anyone.
--- Table of Contents ---
All comments and communication are welcome and wanted.

Hi all,
I’m expected to be called to the bar in June. I have been applying for a job everywhere but I’m getting no responses at all.
Kind of crazy to be looking for a job on Reddit but I’m running out of options. If anyone here knows of an opportunity in Ontario, please feel free to comment or private message me.

I work at a restaurant inside a hotel in California (specifically Los Angeles). A few months ago, we got an entirely new management team, one of whom has been a little incendiary and the rest of whom back him up.
At first, all of us had our hours cut so he doesn’t have to provide us benefits for being full-time (yet we still charge customers a 4% health fee to ‘provide employees health insurance’). Then, he began to repeatedly tell us during meetings that he doesn’t care about tenure and that we can and likely will lose our shifts to new hires. He has also privately remarked that he doesn’t like certain people and that those who bring any of his mistakes to his attention will get their hours cut. In the past two weeks, two people have been fired for speaking up about racist comments made by management and three people have had theirs hours cut after expressing discomfort about his comments on losing shifts to new people.
Since his first week, he comes to work visibly drunk. You can smell it on his breath when you talk to him. Occasionally, he also appears to be under the influence of cocaine. Now, he’s been failing to do big components of his job and blaming the fallout on us and we’re all worried for our jobs.
If someone tells his boss or HR that he’s consistently intoxicated at work, can we legally be fired if he finds out? Is there anything that protects us?

(TW: Suicidal ideation). I have bipolar 1, ADHD combined type, anxiety, and fibromyalgia. I live with my autistic sister. She has ADHD inattentive, depression, anxiety, and dysthymia. It's... Fun.
It's like living with a perpetually whiny, weepy, and lazy 13 yo. She never picks up after herself or cleans anything until I go into a manic rage because how messy the place is. She'll cry, say she's a terrible person, promise to change, put forth the most miniscule amount of effort possible, and then stop 2 weeks later because it's too hard. I've tried convincing her to get her meds tweaked but it rarely happens. She hardly even showers without me pressuring her! I'm forced to live with her because due to job instability and sky high rent in my area, I will be homeless otherwise. Our parents help with rent. I go to them for help, and they just go, "Sorry, we can't do anything." My mom tells me to tune her out and in the same breath calls me a hypocrite because my room is messy too. I've got chronic fatigue, I'm always in excruciating pain even with treatment, and I'm so depressed I want to die for the 4th consecutive year, but sure call me a hypocrite.
Between this and other traumatic life events I've had so many episodes in the last 2 years that my memory is failing and I have neurocognitive difficulty. My neurologist has broached the subject of young onset dementia. I'm 32.
I just had to leave my childhood friend group discord because I'm so unstable people are just blocking me without letting me know I'm annoying them. It was best to do that before I burned all my bridges. My sister is part of that group too.
I swear my parents moved her in with me because they didn't want to deal with her anymore. I'm pressured to comfort her when she cries. She doesn't clean unless given a deadline and then usually fails to meet it, then has a meltdown. My mom told me to tune her out. I did. We got roaches. I don't anymore.
My sister can cook pasta, ramen, and eggs. That's it. That's all she knows how to cook. She pitches a bitch fit when I try to get her to cook something else. So all the cooking falls to me, too! She gets really mad when I cook a big meal because the kitchen is a mess, so I have to help clean it. Doesn't stop her from happily digging in to my food though... For the first day or 2. Then she "forgets" about the food and her portion goes moldy if I don't eat it. Then she gets upset when I make her deal with the rotten food. Also she's a minor hoarder.
She has trauma related to housework (long story) and as a result... Just doesn't clean unless forced. She refused to get it addressed until I told her it's either therapy and sustained improvement or disownment. No third option. Both she and our mom stress that she's fine without caregivers and I'm just being dramatic. Dad always listens and is not happy with her conduct. He encouraged me finally to put my foot down and demand that my sister hire a maid service if she's not going to care for herself. She's wanting me to help pay. I'm not gonna. I've already paid through losing my friends and my future. Also, she makes $7 more than I do.
Thanks for letting me scream into the void.

A little background info, I’m currently located in the US and I have 2 potential jobs coming in, one from the federal gov and one from the private sector.
I’m in the final phases with the fed job where it could take weeks to months for their background check, but I’m getting a final offer from the private sector job on Tuesday. The job from the private sector doesn’t start until July, I was wondering if I accept the job and the fed job gets back to me before July or around then, what’s the etiquette to inform the first job? I’m pretty sure I’m going to burn bridges, but not sure how I should approach this.

I (26F) want to feel like I’m making progress. I’m aware we are all on different financial journeys but I want to understand how far I’ve come in comparison to myself if any at all.
My total net-worth so far has been a little over £20,000 since starting my job last year.
Currently on £42k + bonus and pension top ups. Been also paying into LISA and other S&S accounts.
Been in employment for 1 year and a half and prior to that was in very sporadic free-lance type jobs, where my savings of £2k were spent in one go due to day-to-day living costs.
Luckily the pandemic saved me from spending tons of cash as we practically all did nothing.
I’m lucky enough to pay very little rent as I went through a private landlord. £340 pm including bills and council tax.
Have been tackling 8k for an interest-free loan I took to get into my current field. I have around £2500 left to pay off by Feb 2024.
Been also paying off another interest-free loan I accumulated for legal advise and for my holiday. I have enough to pay that off in 5 months before I have to pay any interest. A total of £1000 left to pay off within that time frame.
My goal is simple, pay off the debt (slightly aggressively) and build an emergency fund.
Currently my savings rate is roughly £1000-1200 which will be bumped up to £1532 until I pay off my debt in November and my tuition loan in Feb.
Is my savings rate generally good, bad, could be better? I’d appreciate some context and guidance coming from other experienced savers.
This sub has been making me feel like I’m nowhere near hitting big numbers, I want to feel like I am getting there. Some perspective would be useful.
Thank you in advance. :)