Truths and Lies: Part Two

Submitted by C B Wright on
Robert Thorpe's Office

Robert Thorpe’s pain is real. The pain’s location isn’t.

He feels pain because his nervous system is damaged. The kind of pain changes: sometimes he has headaches, sometimes he has muscle cramps, sometimes he has sharp, stabbing pain going up and down an arm, or a leg. Today his pain is in his lower back, and it’s more severe than usual.

There’s never anything specifically wrong with the part of his body that’s suffering at any given time, but he feels the pain all the same.

Truths and Lies: Part One

Submitted by C B Wright on
South Bronx, Morrisania

Years ago the sight of a young black woman sitting alone at Elliot’s Diner might have been cause for concern. Morrisania was once considered the worst the South Bronx had to offer, and the Diner was the unofficial stomping grounds of the Red Sevens, a gang with a reputation for ruthlessness and cruelty. Back then, anyone who wasn’t a Red Seven would immediately be marked a victim if they dared set foot in the place—and a young woman would be considered particularly vulnerable, no matter who she was.

That was before Jacob Dupree bought the place. Before his niece and nephew moved in. Before the Bastions claimed Morrisania as their own.

Oh No, Not Again - It Might Be Time to Migrate to Drupal 8

Submitted by C B Wright on

Short version: after finally updating all my Linux machines to the latest version of Ubuntu/KDE, I can no longer run my Drupal 7 test environments. This means I can no longer test any changes to Eviscerati.org, which makes me uncomfortable.

Drupal 8 runs fine though. Which means... ugh, I don't even want to say it. I may have to migrate the site from D7 to D8.

A Rake by Starlight - Chapter 23

Submitted by C B Wright on
WHEREIN a Business Partner Transitions Into a Very Expensive Client

Baron Tyrelos stared at the Station Authority newscast, taking in the images flashing by: the remains of the Second City Bellows, the gritty particulates of the incinerated debris hanging in the air, Station Authority forces cordoning off the area, and one brief image of Lord Sonim Makar and Chancellor Muringyne being ushered into a secure area by Station Authority units. That last image was, she knew, standard emergency protocol—she’d signed and authorized it herself—but it made her angry. Angry, and more than a little frightened.

“Adyt!” She heard her voice, but didn’t quite recognize it. It sounded calm, in control, and revealed nothing of the seething mess of emotions she was trying to force her way through.

The Lieutenant immediately stepped forward. “Baron.” He was all business. He knew what this was, and had been chosen for her personal detail precisely because he could be trusted when the time came.

And that time is now, the baron thought. Damn it all to hell.

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