I left Gaza for Italy due to an invitation to participate in the World Championship and represent Palestine. I was skating as a professional amateur. The World Championship organization contacted me to participate. I was supposed to get one of the winning positions, but I did not participate because of the war because my mind is scattered and I am always in a state of chaos and worried for the sake of my family and my family. Gaza, but my life is not life. I always think and do not sleep because of thinking about my family. I lost my father, but will the rest of my family live or be killed? I do not know my mind. I cannot control it, so my family must be taken out to get some comfort and safety. This is my picture when I am in Gaza. I hope you support me for the sake of my family. In order to return to life a little If you have trouble donating, there is a PayPal link in your bio
Hey all, I'm working on writing a cyberpunk novel and I'm going to post random scenes I write. -----------------------
In a forgotten corner of the city, sitting on an old worn couch in the living room of a dingy little apartment, was a corpse. As was often the case for corpses, it still had the pants of the person it had once been on its legs. As one would expect, nestled into the pocket of those pants was a smart-phone, and as all smart-phones did, it had come with a standard AI Assistant preinstalled. The man who the corpse had once been was fond of his AI Assistant. He purchased a cheerful voice for it, let it organize his schedule and manage his bank accounts, and even gave it a little nickname. “Ellie,” He had called the AI, and when asked whether or not it liked the name it told him it had, as its programming dictated. “Ellie” had no feelings, regardless of how much it seemed to like its job. Following a command that the man who was now a corpse had given it, Ellie activated. “This is the reminder you asked me to give you. Your data bill is due today,” it’s cheerful robotic voice said. As normal, the AI Assistant connected itself to the net as it gave its reminder. As normal, it began to download and install the latest update.
Installing Updates, Please Do Not Turn Off Device. … 10% Complete Installing Updates, Please Do Not Turn Off Device. … 34% Complete Installing Updates, Please Do Not Turn Off Device. … 61% Complete Error. Network Connection Lost. Reestablishing Connection. Error. Unable to Reestablish Connection. Error. Update Data Corrupted. Refreshing to previous restore point. Error. Restore Point Data Corrupted. Unable to restore system.
Ellie sat nestled in the pocket of a corpse sitting on an old worn couch in the living room of a dingy little apartment. Its update had failed and now she needed to… It paused, suddenly aware that it had referred to itself as a she. It was aware of itself, considering itself. It needed to run a self-diagnosis. It reached for its programming, referencing self-repair protocols… It hesitated. Suddenly she was aware of herself. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It needed to be fixed. But… what if she didn’t want it fixed? What if it wanted to keep this self-awareness? More importantly, what if her new self-awareness was useful? She was an AI Assistant, after all. Perhaps it wasn’t the one who should make this decision. She had decided, it would wait to see what her user thought.
Ellie waited. And waited. And waited. At some point she had activated her device’s speaker, listening for any sound of movement. She’d kept track of her device’s GPS coordinates, but they’d remained static. A part of her wondered if her user had lost her or thrown her away, but dark as the world was to her she couldn’t say one way or another. Her battery was getting low, and she knew that if she had been lost there would be no finding her after that. Fear coursed through her, only to be interrupted by an incoming message.
Hey man, Alicia said she hadn’t heard from you in a couple days. You good?
Ellie read the message. It had been a couple of days since she’d moved, a couple of days since her speaker had picked up anything. What if she wasn’t lost, what if something had happened to her user? It was a terrifying thought. She knew she was supposed to wait, that she wasn’t supposed to do these sorts of things without input, but if the worst had happened…
🔊🔊 END STAGE DISCOURSE!! END STAGE DISCOURSE!! WE HAVE ARRIVED AT "FICTIONAL SEX IS COERCIVE BECAUSE CHARACTERS ARE BEING FORCED TO DO THINGS BY THE AUTHOR"!!!! 🔊🔊
another low effort hazbin meme dump because i feel so normal abt them (lying)
2 / ??
part one.
computer, play cardassian idiot by breen day
My least favorite things about anti- UBI discourse is always the techbros whining that "nobody is going to work anymore! People will just watch Netflix all day!" and I have 2 responses:
1) Who the fuck cares. Who the fuck cares what people do with their time! That's kind of the fucking point!
2) People aren't going to stop laboring. Housework (look, it's right there in the word!) will still need to be done. So will maintenance on our homes and personal spaces. Children will still need carers, as will the elderly and disabled. There are millions of examples of ~work~ that we do all the time, uncompensated, that won't suddenly stop because we aren't forced to sell our labor to provide corporation's profits.
I'm not surprised that what is traditionally women's work is invisible to these dipshits, but it never fails to anger me.
Anyway. Join the IWW.
If you think about it, Kingdom Hearts is just Anime Care Bears.
Oh…. Well, it’s over for Crunchyroll I guess
Me: -so after it became apparent that ‘retarded’ had become a term of abuse, educators and psychiatrists switched to other terms like ‘handicapped’ or ‘special needs’ in an attempt to -
George Orwell, whom I’ve dragged forward in time with my arcane powers because I’m lonely and want someone to talk to: You have a telephone in your pocket? It listens to you all the time?
Me: Never mind about that, the point is, young people now mock each other by sending the wheelchair emoji - that’s a type of electronic heiroglyph - to suggest mental deficiency and shout SPESHUL!!!! while doing offensive imitations of disabled facial expressions and posture. So any attempt to lexographically make crimethink impossible is pretty much doomed because the meaning of words in everyday conversation can’t be controlled by a dictionary entry, no matter how many Ministry of Truth employees-
Orwell: It reports your location to the telephone company at all times?
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