"What was that!?" Kellista demanded as soon as the creature fully disappeared. "You said you would summon your salamander!" The effort to dismiss the familiar had knocked Culleo back on his arse and again all he could do was wheeze. "You did issue a command, right? One that it ignored?" Lithia, the younger Lyc prompted. "Yeah, he did. And whatever it was, it wasn't taking orders." Kellista confirmed. "Alright, but before we get ahead of ourselves, is that match over?" Lirren asked, looking over to Kalivine. The Dovkin took a moment before nodding. "I already saw everything I needed, and I'm sure we would all rather focus on this more pressing matter. Get the medbot." Lirren went to do as instructed, and Turri cheerily bounced over, somehow not at all tired from all the exertion from moments ago. "You saw what you needed? That means you have an answer then? How'd they do?" He looked over to the two kobolds who were the entire purpose of the battle. "Their tenacity impressed me. This fight was clearly stacked against them, they knew better than to meet us head on, so they went for a bold strategy." Turri shot Kellista a thumbs up. "I also like how aware they were. Even when locked in combat, you" he nodded to Kellista "were still aware of your surroundings, and managed to help your teammate while minimizing the risk it posed to yourself." Kalivine gave a sigh of relief as the medbot started its work. "And it's rare to see someone cast anything while that exhausted, let alone a summoning." Turri walked over to Culleo. "Hey, ya hear that? Big ole Kal says you're cool!" He said as he pulled the lizard to his feet. Culleo could only huff in response. "Aww he's all tuckered out!" Oh Break you! Culleo tried to curse. "Ho, Huff you" Culleo actually said. "I love you too. So!" Turri said, dropping Culleo with a thump as he turned his attention back to Kalivine. "That mean they're in?" "Not necessarily. As much as they can push, the fact that they needed to push so hard is a major concern. My familiar shouldn't have caused so much trouble, I myself am hardly warmed up, and that summoning, which was at the center of their plan failed so poorly it might have made things even worse for them. I don't like that one bit. Then there's also the matter of how you-" "Oi, Kal! Sorry to interrupt but we got a little somethin' you should see!" Lithia called out.
Turri and Kalivine looked over to where she was standing, and noticed the bag at her feet. "That's... Yeah it is, isn't it?" The bag wasn't too interesting. Sure it was an awkward size, and the lettering wasn't in a language any of them knew, but besides that it looked like an average old bag. Of course, it was the fact that it was there that made it interesting. "Guys, what do we do?" Kellista asked. "Can't you just send it back?" Lirren said, looking to Culleo. The medbot had made its rounds by this point, so he could finally start speaking properly. "But- but I already did! I ended the spell and sent the familiar back! Now that I've done that I'm no longer tethered, so can't summon or dismiss them anymore." They all exchanged nervous glances. That thing had ignored summoning orders, stared ALL of them down, and had tried to cast something before being dismissed, not to mention how it went from stock still to lightning fast reflexes in the blink of an eye. And now its bag was here.
"Well? Let's open it up!" Lithia reached for the bag and everyone else was too stunned to stop her. Unzipping it, she upturned the bad, dumping its contents onto the ground. "So, what do we have here? Some clothes by the looks of it." Lirren was first to speak up. "Lithia! What are you doing!?" "Uhh, checking out our sweet new swag. Obviously!" Turri answered for her. "Come on. Ooooh, what's this?" Turri, being the birdbrain that he is, was immediately distracted by the shiny piece of metal that had tumbled out of the jumble of clothes. He picked it up and started examining it closely, eyes expanding rapidly. "What are you...? Ah ha!" Pushing a knob that turned out to be a button, a solid 'Ka-chink!' made everyone flinch as a simple yet elegant blade popped out. Turri's eyes expanded even wider and a grin made it to his beak. "Oh this one's totally mine!" Culleo considered saying something, not liking how something he summoned was now being robbed. "Hey what're these?" Oh great, now Kellista was in on it too. She found a small pouch of brown spheres. Taking a sniff, she must have liked what she smelt because she popped the thing in her mouth. "Hey! This stuff tastes good! I think I found some candy!" She said, rolling the brown sphere around her mouth. Everyone turned at that, and Kellista realized the folly of showing off her prize as everyone went for a piece.
In the turmoil of grasping hands, squawking and muttering, and a couple pinched fingers, Lithia was the first in and out. She was terrifyingly nimble despite her size, and she brought up her prize to take a sniff of her own before her eyes widened. "Nobody eat these!" She suddenly howled at the group. Everyone stopped in shock as Lithia lunged towards Kellista, who was more than a little shocked when the Lyc twice her size picked her up like a toddler. "Spit it out! Spit it out now!" She said, shaking the kobold. Kellista opened her mouth and let the brown ball of goodness drop onto the dirt, ruining it. "Hey! Let her go!" Culleo drew his rapier and pointed it to the one threatening his friend. Lithia hardly even noticed the second kobold, but still did as asked. "What was that about?" Turri asked. "Those aren't candy. At least I don't think so. They're laced with caffeine!" With that grand statement the others quickly dropped theirs, Lirren caught a whiff from his own and yep! Caffeine. It was subtle, hidden under a network of sugar, but it was there. His joined the other on the ground.
Kellista had never been so glad to be shaken like that. She was about to swallow the thing! Two seconds later and she would have ingested poison, and she didn't like her chances at that point. "Th-thank you for saving me." She said, still a little shaken from being a little shaken. "Don't mention it!" Lithia replied with a grin. "But now I want to know why our guy had a bag of poisonous sweets on him. Any ideas?" The group exchanged glances, and Kellista piped up again. "I think he was an assassin!" All eyes turned on her and she almost felt the weight of their collective gaze. "Well think about it! What have we found? A disguise, poison you'd willingly eat, a concealed knife," Turri was still fiddling with it, and there were now several bits of metal sticking out at odd angles. "Which we now see comes with a lockpicking set! Honestly Turri put that down before you release a toxic cloud or something!" Kalivine, who had been nodding along interjected "and some kind of access card" while holding up another find. "Exactly!" Kellista cut back in. "And where is this all stored? In a nondescript bag that could just be left somewhere! Come on guys, you saw how it moved! It hardly made a sound and was getting ready to fight, regardless of its summoners instructions! Like it actually thought it could take us all!" Kellista was panting by the end of her little presentation. "I think she's right. It was also powerful enough to bend a summoning to its will like that. I'm just glad you were able to send it back. I don't even wanna know what it was planning." Lirren said. Turri sighed and dropped the knife, and they all came to the same conclusion. After a few quick seconds everything was back in the bag and nobody wanted to touch it anymore.
"So what do we do now?" Culleo broke the silence, "should we tell someone?" Kalivine nodded. "Definitely report this. I think Mr. Folksen is in today. He'll know what to do." With someone to pin the responsibility on a plan of action, the group headed to the main campus building.
.....
After he finished inspecting the ground and distinctly not crying in the fetal position over lost chocolates, Micheal slowly picked himself up, dusted off his clothes, and began to walk home. What sucked was that even without his bag, he was still weighed down because of the detachable weights he had wrapped around his wrists and ankles, and now that he had let himself cool down, his limbs also felt like lead. He gave a mental sigh as he trudged along. The journey was slow and painful, but at least uneventful. As his house came into view, Mikey noticed that he still felt the imprint of his bags strap on his hand and shoulder. Kinda weird, because 'the incident' as he started referring to it as happened nearly 20 minutes ago now, and the imprint he could see was still in his hand. Focusing on it, he could still feel the fibers that made up the strap! He stopped and leaned over, looking closely at his palm. There's nothing to see, but he definitely feels his bag, not the imprint, but the actual strap like it was in his hand. "Wha...?" Closing his fingers and yes, there was something. It wasn't physical though, but almost like a breeze in his hand. He gave it a gentle tug and- "wait No! Not AGAIN!" started seeing spots in his vision.
Michael materialized back in the field with his eyes shut tight. "Come on! Are you kidding!? Why!?" He didn't care that he was making a scene in the middle of a pack of monsters, that eye thing simply couldn't be the only mode of transportation between worlds. His vision cleared however, and he saw that the field was now empty, which meant no dragon to eat him, and no kobold to send him back. But wait! His bag was here! Relief flooded through Mike as he found all his stuff was still there! Even the chocolate! "Oh, there is a god!" He said, popping one in his mouth. He stopped as he saw something, a half-eaten chocolate on the ground, clearly spat out. 'So, it's not that they didn't rob me, but team dragon is just too good for my stuff?' he thought with just a little indignation. Bad mood back firmly in place, Mike took a look at his surroundings. Now that there were no distractions, like a dragon in his face ('no, I willnot let that go any time soon!'), he could see the 'field' was the unkept land kind more than the soccer field kind, and this field was surrounded on three sides by buildings that were old enough that they might be ruins, and weren't styled like anything he had seen on earth. Knowing werewolves roamed the area, it was starting to feel like a monster town. Behind him however, stood a thick stone wall with a spiked fence on top of it. Although he had no chance to climb the wall, it did nothing to hide the grand, Cathedral looking structure behind it. The structure seemed to be carved out of marble, and was clearly maintained in stark contrast to the rest of the area. Looking up, Michael took back 'cathedral' and went with 'super palace' because this place was utterly massive. Sure, the base of the building was on par with Notre Dame but at higher levels instead of tapering out like most buildings do, it became larger and infinitely more extravagant. Seeing how he had literally been summoned here, Mike was clued in on the existence of magic, but the blatant disrespect for the laws of physics above his head confirmed that wizards were probably a thing. As the main body of the building went higher and higher, it seemed to thin out and seperate into a tangle of towers, courtyards, balconies and a whole lot of castle parts he didn't have words for, all forming a beautiful balance between chaotic and symmetrical. There were bridges that went to sections that didn't have anything under them, straight up floating islands, stairs that were rows of floating steps, and landings that looked like they disagreed on what way was down, all loosely forming a cage around a main structure that he could hardly see thanks to all the clutter around it. There was nothing on earth, even in games or movies that compared to the ridiculous levels of architecture going on in front of him. Seeing such beauty and grandeur so remarkably displayed in front of him, Michael was filled with deep emotion.
That emotion was pants-wetting fear. What the heck!? Was he trespassing on a literal god's doorstep!? Or, judging by the surroundings, was this some sort of local superpower that basically owned the very air he was breathing!? No, probably not, they hadn't aimed anything at him or yelled through a microphone that he needed to vacate immediately or be forcibly removed, but still! Michael stood there for several minutes, staring with a blend of terror, curiosity and fascination. He wasn't even sure how long it had been when he saw a new monster, one he did not have a name for, casually strolling towards the castle. Upon seeing the creature, it struck him that he was standing in broad daylight in the middle of a field in downtown monsterville. Luckily whatever it was hadn't noticed him yet, and he intended to keep it that way. He ran into the most deserted looking part of the ruins, hoping to keep eyes off him.
.....
"So after he dismissed it, we noticed the bag hadn't gone back, so we took a look and it was clear the creature was a rogue of some kind." The six of them were gathered in an office several floors high in the school, and were busy relaying the events that had transpired concerning the summoning to one of the few teachers that were still available to speak with.
"How can you be sure? What was in the bag?" Professor Folksen, an older Kaikku and notable scholar asked.
"Well, the bag itself was unremarkable, but there was a concealed dagger and a caffeine based poison along with a simple disguise. And the dagger also had a set of lockpicks built into it too. When we realized what we were looking at, we decided to put everything back and come to you." Kellista continued, describing the scene quickly to the professor.
"You made the right call. With any luck your friend will pull their bag back, find their items intact and decide seeking retribution would be a waste of time."
"Sorry sir, pull their bag back?" Culleo asked.
"Indeed Mr. Zirrkus, this isn't the first time a familiar returned home without everything. The tether that allows them to find their way back to their own dimension remains until every piece returns with it. only then does the figurative door close and prevent them from coming back unprompted. Your friend has probably already taken their things back and has forgotten about this whole thing." Mr. Folksen said reassuringly.
"But wait, if there's still a tether to this world, couldn't it come back instead!?" Culleo asked with panic rising in his voice.
"No no, that won't be an issue. When a familiar is partially returned like in this case, the mana of its homeworld acts as an anchor, any attempt to pull itself back through without the summoners assistance would just pull everything to its origin. Even if it did have a way to come back, you've given it no reason to seek you out."
"But this thing managed to circumvent my summon, couldn't it find other workarounds if it could do that?" Culleo was struggling to keep his voice in the same octave.
The old scholar shook his head. "That would require a monumental misunderstanding of magic. There may be some things we've forgotten about mana since the jolt, but this comparison would be on the same level as worrying that gravity might fail because someone was able to hack your comm. It has no reason to return and even if it did, there would literally be all the mana in a world holding it back. You can relax dear Culleo, it's not going to seek out vengeance against you."
Culleo tried to calm down, he did his best to consider his mentors words and see the clearly laid out logic, but his nerves just wouldn't go down. He had a mantle of dread over his heart that just wouldn't abate. Ragged wisps of the tether seemed to remain, so faint they just might be his imagination, but something inside him was screaming that this wasn't over.
Seeing the apprehension on his pupil's face, Folksen tried another approach. "Come now, you said this duel took place on the eastern field, yes? Well let's go check it out." The old bird had clear signs of aging, wrinkles, loss of feathers and colour, but it did nothing to slow him down as he briskly made his way to a nearby window. "Now where, ahh! I can see scorchmarks. That's where you fought, yes?" He called as the young, spry and physically fit students caught up. Kalivine confirmed. "Yes, right over there. The creature was summoned by those two gouges" he said, pointing to some damage in the turf. "And what do you see?" Folksen asked. "...the bag is gone." Lirren answered. "Exactly. And what do you know? No assassins at our throats. The tether has been severed, we don't need to worry about them coming back. Now I want you kids to get home early tonight and have a good night's sleep. The school year officially starts tomorrow and you don't need to let this keep you up all night."
Culleo nodded numbly. Seeing the empty field had only made the icy grip on his heart squeeze tighter, but everything was exactly as professor Folksen had said it should be, and he couldn't find any reason to doubt it. "Alright teach, that sounds like a good idea, I'm headed out before this lot gets me into any more trouble." Turri said before giving Culleo a clap on the shoulder "Cully! You two need a ride? Don't worry about it, it's no biggie!" He didn't even wait for a response as he grabbed Kellista's hand and began leading the two kobolds out to a landing pad and a few minutes later had the two on his back as he flew through the night. Even two on his back, kobolds were sufficiently smaller than kaikkus that Turri was able to glide most of the way.
"This whole thing really is eating at you, huh?" Turri asked, and it took Culleo a moment to realize he was being addressed. It was starting to get into the evening, but people were milling about, so Turri had taken them higher than strictly necessary to give the kobolds some privacy. "...I'm not really sure why, but yeah. Everything that Professor Folksen said made sense, and this kind of thing doesn't normally bother me, but I just can't shake this feeling..." Culleo trailed off as he considered the problem. "I bet you're just stressed from not getting an answer!" Kellista interjected, "We've been working forward to getting a spot with the Divvani faction for months now and we didn't even get an answer! It's just nerves, man!" Culleo had honestly forgotten about that, but Kellista was right. They just threw everything they had in an all or nothing battle that would probably have an effect on the rest of their lives, and didn't even know if they had won. As Culleo looked forward as best he could into the headwind, he really hoped his friend was right.
_________________________________________________________ Authors notes
Alright, I know I already broke my 'once a week' promise by posting this, but don't expect a habit of it! I'm just a little ahead in my writing and I'm sticking with that standard.
The first shall be previous and the next shall be in a week or so.

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Contact: [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])

Dear Boston University
From a ‘23 Graduate
PREFACE
I am writing this after much reflection and I want it to be clear that this is not coming from a place of hate or a need to get back at anyone. This document is simply to share my side of things as a student.
I want to express how poorly I think BU does about mental health issues. This is by no means a personal attack against any professor or TA I’ve encountered but rather what they’ve been trained on and how they could possibly do better. Sorry, I mean how you could have done better. If you’re reading this, it’s being addressed to you. I hope you don’t take this personally but rather use this to think about how you, as a professor, can help even one student out. For many of you, you won’t even remember my name by next year. Whether or not I did well, I’m just another student on a giant list of all the students you’ve had and will have. I’ll remember your name. To Professor H*******, Professor C**** and M***, and Professor H*****, thank you for being the only people at this school that even bothered to check in on me, even if it was over one simple zoom call or a brief OH meeting.
This letter is also not meant to be well-written but rather a slurry of thoughts that I just need to get out on paper. I hope any comments made about this are directed towards the meaning behind my words rather than how they’re written.
CLASSES
They say that your years at college are supposed to be some of the best years of your life. When I was a freshman at another institution, I thought that I’d be making so many memories. I had wanted to attend Boston University because I believed that I’d be able to grow so much more. I spent both semesters that year doing my absolute best– ending with a 3.6 GPA both semesters and getting accepted into my dream school.
When COVID hit, it was incredibly hard going to a new and bigger school with no friends and with no idea about how much harder it would be in my classes. Everything was online so it was difficult trying to meet people. Online classes seemed like they’d be a breeze but I ended up failing a class my first semester. It would be an understatement to say that I was shattered but after talking to people I had met that semester, I quickly realized that I wasn’t alone. A lot of people I knew also failed a class, so I didn’t let the negativity fester and told myself to just do better the following semester.
It ended up just being the beginning of a cycle. I’d do well in the spring semester, then do worse in the fall. Knowing that my mother worked so hard to keep my head above the water financially and I was pouring it down the drain really took a toll on me.
BU STUDENT HEALTH SERVICES
During finals week my Fall semester last year, I had my first mental breakdown. I did what I should have done much earlier, and called whatever services BU had to offer. I will say that it didn’t take too long to get me connected to someone and I set up a meeting to talk about next steps, scheduled the next day. This is kind of where things go downhill. I talked about what I was feeling and what I wanted to do about it (speak to a therapist) and I was given a list of possible therapists. I know the next reasonable step would be to reach out to these therapists and see where my insurance lines up blah blah blah but I think where BU failed me was to give me an immediate resource. I really needed someone then, and all they could offer me was a list of people I had to personally look into and reach out to.
For those of you who don’t struggle mentally, I want you to know that even calling the BU mental health services was taxing enough already. To then sit down and research therapists in a period of mental crisis was not something I felt like doing. So…I never reached out to anyone again after that. I blame myself for not doing anything, already. Please try to understand that it’s hard to reach out to people sometimes. One thing I’d have them change is to have someone call back and check in on me. If someone from BU had done that, it would have told me that they actually do care about their students. A simple call could have prevented me from thinking that the services BU offered were completely worthless. Sure, there are other things that need to be worked on and I wouldn’t have thought that it’s a perfect system, but literally anything to show that they care could help. Take some notes, BU.
FRIENDS
I wouldn’t consider myself to be an extrovert but I managed to find a good group of friends. There were a few times where I think my overthinking got the best of me and I felt lonely. There were moments during my junior year when my overthinking got the best of me, leaving me feeling incredibly lonely. I’ll admit there were times I felt like inviting me was an obligation rather than the fact that they just wanted me to be there.
That feeling has gone away now, but it really sucked my junior year starting off that way and not being emotionally capable of just having that conversation with them to ease any doubts of dislike toward me. Senior year was much better and I was able to have those conversations with them if I felt like things were off. The worst part of my mental health issues was my relationships being sabotaged. I’d distance myself if I felt like I was being distanced from to almost feel like I was the one who initiated it. After all, if it was my choice to be distant, I can’t be sad about it, right?
I’d like to think I got better with it all, though. I took the time to think about what it was that I needed from my friends to make me feel like they actually cared about me and wanted me to be around them and things quickly fixed themselves. I think surrounding myself with my friends was the only thing keeping me in check.
PROFESSORS
My junior year, one of my professors noticed that I wasn’t performing as well as I should have been. We had a couple zoom meetings and she basically asked me what was up. I didn’t really know what to say because I wasn’t really aware of my mental well-being. I think I ended up telling her how it’s been hard coming to a new college and that I’m just adjusting to being in person. Looking back, I think it was true but I should have definitely started looking at mental health resources that year. I think a part of me was just scared to admit I had any mental health issues.
To another junior year professor, I dislike how stupid you made me feel in your office hours. In fact, you’re the sole reason I stopped going to any office hours altogether and it bit me in the ass. Again, after reflecting, I realize that I should have just not let it bother me but it’s really hard to just ignore the feeling that your professor might think you’re stupid. I feel like the older professors don’t really care much about how their students are doing? I could be wrong but those were the vibes I was feeling. He just didn’t explain things to me fully despite my efforts to clear up any of the questions I had previously asked.
My advisor wasn’t any better. Junior year, when students around me were talking about GREs or whatever, I didn’t have the slightest fucking idea what that meant. After all, my parents didn’t go to college. They were immigrants who relied on their daughter to read every form for them. I had to fill out my own FAFSA, figure out my own college plan, and figure out everything else that came after. This isn’t to say that I am the only one with this struggle but I was not made aware of all the resources at BU that could have helped me navigate college as a first generation student. Where does my advisor come into all of this? For starters, she’s an old white woman. I don’t think she knows the first thing about being dropped into the deep end and having to figure things out all by yourself. I wanted to pursue grad school. I wanted to actually do something meaningful with my life but I didn’t have any clue how to even start. All she saw were my failed classes and how my GPA was dropping. As someone who’s in charge of my classes, I think a simple conversation about how I am doing mentally rather than academically would help, too. Anyone in a position of some sort of power at this school could have shown the slightest bit of empathy and things could have maybe been different. Internships? Not a chance. Sophomore year was completely virtual so no one was taking in anyone for an internship. Junior year, I didn’t know where to even begin looking. I inquired about them during a meeting with my advisor when picking courses and I believe I was simply directed to a link sent through email. Great, one more thing I need to do by myself. I felt incapable. I knew I wasn’t the only one doing things by myself but everyone around me seemed like they knew what they were doing. I didn’t know it at the time, but imposter syndrome was slowly creeping up on me.
I’ve always disliked history class. Every time I take one, I can’t stand being in the room for any longer than I need to be. Nothing wrong with it, but it completely bores me. I do want to give a shout out to the professor and TA that reached out to me when I stopped attending classes and took the time to meet with me on zoom. It took 3 semesters for someone to do that and gently place me back on track. I felt relieved knowing that my absence actually meant something. It gave me a reason to stop laying in bed all day and feeling bad about myself. However, this meant going to a history class…
My final semester was kind of a shitshow. One of my classes related to my major seemed exciting, when I stepped into class on the first day. I felt like it was something I could totally get a grasp of and feel like I belonged there. There were only like 12 students in the class so I really didn’t want to (mentally) stick out. However, I fucked up.
You may or may not have heard of ChatGPT. Let this be a lesson: do not use it to edit a paper you’ve written for an assignment worth like a hundred goddamn points. This professor very kindly let me rewrite some of the portions to regrade. What he didn’t know was that a couple days before the deadline, I was having another mental breakdown. I had already asked for an extension and I didn’t think writing an email saying “hey just to lyk, not feeling mentally ok” would be alright. In fact, it might have raised quite a few red flags and me being the person I am, did not want to bring any more attention to it than I needed to.
As time went along, I stopped showing up to classes. Some mornings, I couldn’t bring myself to leave my bed. I was starving myself and would eat once a day, at 8 or 9 PM. I am not unhealthy, according to US beauty standards, but I definitely was not, and am not, healthy by any means.
So much was happening all at once. I wasn’t doing well on assignments, I wasn’t eating, and I wasn’t communicating with my mom about ANY of this. I finally had a meeting with this professor but even then couldn’t even fully tell him what was going on. In my head, I thought “he’s not a therapist and he does not get paid to care about my wellbeing” but I don’t know…maybe I should have. Maybe then things could have been different. It’s in the past now though but damn, hindsight is a crazy thing.
GRADUATION
I didn’t walk.
The past month before graduation, I was having an internal struggle about whether or not I should walk. I didn’t even purchase a cap and gown because of this and part of me wishes I felt different.
However, my decision to not walk was my own and with the way I am feeling, I wouldn’t change that decision. I do wish I could change how I felt and am feeling, though. The reason I didn’t walk was because I genuinely felt like I did not deserve to. I couldn’t stand up there in line, waiting to walk, surrounded by people who I know are infinitely smarter than I am. They passed their classes. They did what they were supposed to. If I walked, I still had to take 4 classes, due to my class failures and some of my transfer credits not going through. I still would be bound to this school, whether or not I walked on May 21st.
Again:
I felt like I did not deserve to walk.
I genuinely hope that no one ever feels that way. It fucking hurts being in that mindset. I wanted to give my mom the opportunity to see her daughter walk and shake her professors’ hands. I wanted her to take a video of me walking across, smiling, and posing at the end with my red diploma folder. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stroll across, knowing there were professors up there who knew I did poorly in their class. They knew this wouldn’t be my last time on campus.
These thoughts made me embarrassed to even consider walking. I was on the fence for a while, all the way up until the night before I had to walk. But I couldn’t let go of those emotions.
I lied and told my mom that it would be too crowded anyway and that it wasn’t worth making the trip. The trip being only 40 minutes if you account for traffic. At the time of writing this, I have a lump in my throat, knowing that my mom, who worked so hard for me to come to this school, did not get to see me walk. I don’t think I’ll ever regret not walking, but it does hurt knowing I took it away from her.
I really wish I had someone reach out to me and just tell me that everything would be okay and that I didn’t need to feel embarrassed. I wish I had someone tell me that I deserve to walk with everyone else.
FINAL THOUGHTS
I wrote this all in like, two hours. I cannot get everything I have ever thought of in this document. That would require me to actually sit down and think about my feelings and I’d rather not. Again, this isn’t an attack on any of my professors, but I do hope you think about your students and if you notice them skipping class, they’re probably going through some shit.

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• Is it possible for a hacker to hack a student's grades?
• Is it possible to hire a dark web hacker to change your grades?
• How can a hacker help me change my university grade?
• Where can you hire a hacker to change your university grades?
• Will my highschool care if I hire a professional hacker to hack my grades?
• Is it possible to hack your schools site to change grades without being caught even though the database was backed up?
• How can I hire a hacker to access my school site database to increase my grade?

Why do people hire hackers to change grades?
In the modern world, it is necessary to have a good education to find a decent job. However, not everyone has an opportunity to get a university degree. If you want to change your grades and records of academic achievements, but do not know how to do this on your own, then you should search for someone who can help you with the task.
Finding a hacker for hire
How to hire a hacker to change your university grades? Now you know, you can hire hackers for different types of hacking work. But where do you get a hacker to hire? Since hackers offer digital services, the best place to find a reliable hacker is the Internet. And the Internet is mainly divided into two parts; The Dark Web and the mainstream Internet.
Before hacking services became popular, the only place to find hackers was on the Dark Web. The evolution from black hat hacker to white-hat hacker has enabled people to access professional hacking services on the mainstream internet. It was this evolution that pushed hacking services more accessible to most people looking for authorized hackers to hire.
How to hire a genuine hacker; No. One hacker for hire
Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well. Why be undecided when looking for a professional/ethical hacker? You need to be careful when trying to recruit hackers on the Internet. As much as there are legitimate hackers out there, you also need to be aware that there are some fake and unprofessional hackers out there.
Whether you are endeavoring to conscript a hacker on the Dark Web or the mainstream Internet, your priority should be to find a genuine hacker who guarantees a safe and secure hacking service. So how do you differentiate fake hackers from real ones? How can you find a real hacker to hire on the internet? The best way to hire a real hacker online is through referrals/recommendations.
How to hack a university website
How to hire a hacker to change your university grades? When it comes to hacking it is not an easy task as it shows movies and shows. This is a highly technical method and hackers must be proficient. If you only want to change one grade, that means you need to email your teacher, it’s a simple process but when you need to change multiple grades it means you need a professional hacker to change multiple grades. You need to check the trend, change the grade if it is a grading trend.
How to hack university website
How to hack college and university websites to change grades? You need to do some testing to change the grade. If you do not want any professional help, phishing can be done. Some sites will send a link via email and you will get the password and username.
If you can access passwords and usernames and change grades remotely, even if you don’t use a proxy at midnight or any other time, it’s a good idea to go to school because that would be a bad idea. If you are not very technical and go ahead with less experience then you cannot do this. You need some professional hackers to hack the school system to change the grade of your university.
How to hack blackboard
Some professional hackers may change their grades and in the end, it will enhance your results. Nowadays there are websites of skilled and professional hackers. Hackers are also found on the Dark Web. But hiring them is not safe because they have to hack their email and username and they can bid it later which will be a problem for you. You just have to be more discriminate with the help you affect toward. Changing grades in all other classes is bad but some hackers recommend it to maintain the grading trend. Hacking the school system means you need admin access. You can access the main server after clearance from the admin.
Hire a hacker service to change university grades
How to hire a hacker to change your university grades. Some professional hackers cancan finish the job efficiently and we can guarantee for them.
skyfoxhackers
The certified platform that provides skilled and professional hackers. They provide various services for hacking. Such as hacking a cell phone, hacking a university grade system links to an external site.
They use the most delinquent technology and software for hacking services. They have a very secure and secure system that the person will never know who hacked the system. They provide customer service for 24 hours and a full week. They provide a live chat where you can ask your questions. They also have a WhatsApp number where you can send your requests. You can test the system to understand the top three hackers to use when you want to hack grades online.
The answer you very quickly and solve your problem without any time. 99% of clients are satisfied with their work. They have many experienced and skilled professional hackers who are spread all over the world and you can easily contact them. You are completely satisfied with their work otherwise they guarantee your money back. [email protected] provide you with quality work. By hacking the website, they change the person’s grade and then they save the changes.
Hire a hacker service
How to hire a hacker to change your university grades? This is the platform where you can hire a hacker to change the grade. By hacking the school’s website, hackers can easily change your grades. They also have experienced hackers. They also provide live chat where you can easily interact with them.
The payment method is also very simple: either you have to pay every hour or you have to pay a certain amount. Unlike other websites they do not take days to reply to you, they reply to you very quickly within minutes. All you have to do is send the request and give your consent. They have especially trained hackers. They can hack cell phones, hack websites, hack social media apps like Facebook, WhatsApp and much more.
How to hack university servers to change grades
How to hire a hacker to change your university grades? You can hire a hacker to hack university servers to change your grades. What comes to your mind when hacking a school system? What do you claim, total overhauling of your grade, increase GPA? So, when changing your grades, you want to make sure that you are not leaving anything for chance. It is advisable to hire a hacker to change the grade in the record of class results.
How to change your college/university grade online
Hackers are able to change your grade if they understand what you need. There are many students conscripting hackers to change their university grades on blackboards, canvas, infinite campuses, power schools and other learning management systems. As a student, you need to understand what kind of student portal your school hosts. To hack a student portal, you need to have the necessary skills to hack your website and understand the effectiveness of different methods of attack. The hack way is the best for hacking and grading university databases.
How to hack a school computer without getting caught
If your school uses a Mac computer instead of a Windows computer, you cannot hack into the computer. Remember that if your computer’s BIOS is locked down, you will not be able to hack your school computer. You will not be able to hack your school computer if it is attached to the internet. This means that the policies on the computer are operated remotely.
How to hack school computer server
How do get access your school’s server to download the final exam question with the solutions? Just think of the benefits of your academic record and think of your comfort when you attend school on the final exam days before the final!
Conclusion:
The world has changed and it is getting more competitive day by day. People are looking for a better job to give them financial stability in the future. If you want to get a good job, you need good grades and that is what makes many people look for ways to change their university grades with the help of hackers. You can ask for help from a hacker as they have set up tools and techniques to hack into any website and make changes accordingly. I hope now you clearly understand How to hire a hacker to change your university grades. contact mail: [email protected]

Proof.
A while ago I wrote a comment to someone who asked a question about what it takes to get a H1 WAM. I learnt a lot over my uni years and thought I would share some advice that would have helped over the years. Please note that this is simply my perspective, and all comments and criticisms are welcome.

1. Make sure you enjoy your course and major, and be prepared to change your mind, maybe even several times. You don't have to work in an industry directly relating to your area of study, many do not. But you will find it infinitely harder to find the motivation to study if you do not genuinely have an interest in your course.
   
2. Controversial, but pick bludge subjects for breadth. "Inside look at MTC", " Games: Remaking Reality", "Shakuhachi Ensemble" (level 3 subject!) are some notorious ones. Not only are these an easy H1, but they give you more time to focus on the more difficult subjects. I learnt this the hard way when I did linear algebra as breadth.
   
3. Also controversial, but attend classes in person. If you live really far from campus than skip this, but if you struggle with discipline this can help you form better studying habits, and also get you more engaged with uni life (better mental health). Also, I found it really helped with making connections to lecturers when I was looking at postgrad options.
   
4. Improve your study environment. I found I was terrible at studying at home. Constant noise and interruptions, visual stimulation everywhere, too tempting to get up and do other things. This, combined with attending lectures, meant that I did basically all my study between classes at libraries on campus and was extra efficient. If campus is far, consider a local library. Might not be for everyone but I found noise cancelling headphones with no music playing useful. This also meant when I came home I was free to relax completely, and forget about uni for a while.
   
5. Improve your studying methods. The most important thing to know is that studying is an ACTIVE PROCESS. If you find yourself taking lecture notes on autopilot or just reading through information without comprehending it, you're not really studying. Take a piece of required information/knowledge, really think about out it, how it connects to what you know, what it might mean about future information, what questions do you still have. Rote learning has kind of been made redundant by the fact that many exams are now online and open book, but Anki is the best system for rote learning simple facts, but won't help you integrate the knowledge.
   
6. Keep the balance. Exercise is important. Find something that you enjoy, gets the heart pumping and doesn't feel like a chore. Swimming, running, unicycling, ultimate frisbee, whatever you like. If you're doing paid work, be prepared to say no if it is becoming too much with your study load. If you need to work and study full time to pay rent/eat, you have my deepest respect, and make sure you have fully explored your Centrelink entitlements. Do something mind numbing and genuinely enjoyable and instantly gratifying to relax, e.g. TikTok, hangout with S/O, TV show, play with dog. The trap here is to not try to min/max your down time. I enjoy learning languages and instruments, but these end up being equivalent to doing another subject.
   
7. More important than anything else on this list is your mental health and discipline. Most people know that there are things they could do right now to improve their WAM or otherwise enrich their lives, but do not seek them out simply because they don't want to or mentally cannot muster it. Mental health struggles are an epidemic at the moment, and there are no simple fixes. But there is hope. but if I had to distil what I've discovered over the years its that momentum is important. When things are going wrong, you're not sleeping well, therefore you can't focus, your marks drop, you're more stressed, you spend more time indoors, you eat worse, and all these factors team up to pull you down. But momentum also works the other way. Healthy habits will reinforce each other to help keep your head above water and your mind in a good place. I don't know if I can say that professional psychological help completely understood me, but seeking it out was an important first step when I was at my lowest point.
   

Because the first step is always the hardest when you lack motivation, make things easy for yourself. If you don't feel like studying, set a timer for 5 minutes then stop. Set out clothes the day before if you have a class at 8am. Don't overload if you don't have to, and do 3 subjects per semester if you cannot cope with 4.
OOp. long post. Feel free to ask me any questions about studying, mental health, GAMSAT, Centrelink, AFL, whatever you like.

Yesterday my kids (8th grade) told me their team teachers post lists of students who are missing assignments or failing the class. Literally, they post paper lists on the bulletin board. Students check to see if they're on the list, hopefully do the work, and can cross their name off the list when it's done. Is this okay? In the process of checking the list they find out who else is failing that assignment or that class. Isn't this a privacy issue, in addition to being incredibly embarrassing?
I was horrified when they told me but some kids defended the lists, saying it's easy to check if they're missing something and is probably easier for the teacher. Then why do we bother with Infinite Campus?! Other kids said it's really embarrassing and they don't like it. What are your thoughts as a professional?

I´ve actually seen several people proposing this. The theory goes, that EVERYTHING in the Infinity Train universe is actually just one giant Matrix-style simulation. The Cars, The Wasteland, Earth, everything. Except the Tape Car, which is where everyone is plugged-in to the system. When they "get picked-up by the Train"(actually an illusion, and they have no choice) on "Earth (which is actually just another construct of the Train) they awaken.
This is even alluded to by One-One when Lake reaches The Tape Car.

Fun fact: The Tape Car is the only car where the universe is projected on the outside.

Now, we know that the Cars are simulations. We see Orbs which allow them to function. And this theory certainly explains several things:
- How the exterior of the "train" is customised to appeal to every passenger, despite us never seeing the process once the passengers are on-board
- How the train is able to manipulate the physics on Earth (removing the roof of Amelia´s campus)
- The glitches in Book 4
- how the Wasteland is infinite(procedurally generated)
- Why is "Passenger Farm" a thing
- Why denizens freeze upon the activation of the Boots (Pre-Amelia era)
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But I also have several questions, which this theory doesn´t address. Namely, if everything is simulated, then what´s the point of everything? The mission of the Train is to help passengers deal with their problems. But if this theory is true, why? Can´t Porters/One-One just alter everyone´s behaviour? This defeats the entire purpose of the thing. Now,maybe were being lied to about the train´s purpose. That´s certainly a possibility. But once again, why?
Secondly, this raises into question: Who created the Tape Car in the first place? OK, everything is simulated, but the Tape Car is the real thing (at least according to One-One). This is the HQ from which the simulation is monitored and controlled. But if that´s the case, then why can elements of the simulation (Lake, Flecs, exit doors) interact with it? Why is there no "No-Entry" or otherwise a barrier preventing breaches, something akin to the boots? And once again, everything on the train seems like something a human would come up with. That doesn´t work if every human is plugged-in. Someone had to create One-One and everything else? Who?
------------------------------------------------
Now, I´ve seen some suggesting that the world of IT is a precursor simulation created by future humans. That would explain, why every single train creation is something a human would create. And that every human plugged in is just a recreation of a past era.
And I got to say, this is genius. I can accept both, my theory (future humans created the train) as well as this one. But it still doesn´t explain my other questions (why can products of the simulation interact with the Tape Car, as well as the general point of the Train, under this new theory). Worse, this theory, justifies Apex mentality. Why work to fix your problem and get your number down? Why treat denizens as people? Everything is just a simulation for our overlords to control, anyway. And that´s why I can´t fully accept this. Because that would recontextualize Book 3 in its entirety, and on some level prove Apex right.
Thoughts?

What would you change?
Commander 1 Zimone and Dina (MOM) 257
Deck 1 Vito, Thorn of the Dusk Rose (M21) 127 8 Forest (SIR) 291 1 Mage Hunter (STX) 76 1 Sheoldred, the Apocalypse (DMU) 107 1 Arasta of the Endless Web (THB) 165 10 Swamp (SIR) 285 1 Vorinclex, Voice of Hunger (NPH) 127 1 Painful Quandary (BRO) 111 1 Damping Sphere (DAR) 213 1 Patient Rebuilding (M19) 67 1 Dina, Soul Steeper (MUL) 102 1 Triskaidekaphile (MID) 81 1 Thriving Moor (JMP) 37 1 Jace, the Perfected Mind (ONE) 57 1 Gix's Command (BRO) 97 12 Island (SIR) 282 1 Zagoth Crystal (IKO) 242 1 Trench Stalker (BRO) 116 1 Jungle Hollow (NEO) 269 1 Mirrodin Avenged (MOM) 118 1 Deathcap Glade (VOW) 261 1 Ghoulcaller's Harvest (MID) 225 1 Yarok, the Desecrated (MUL) 128 1 Shipwreck Marsh (MID) 267 1 Phyrexian Arena (ONE) 104 1 Underworld Dreams (THB) 121 1 Erebos, Bleak-Hearted (THB) 93 1 Kenrith's Transformation (ELD) 164 1 Consuming Tide (VOW) 53 1 Gix, Yawgmoth Praetor (BRO) 95 1 Consider (MID) 44 1 Jace, Wielder of Mysteries (WAR) 54 1 Tymaret, Chosen from Death (THB) 119 1 Veil of Summer (M20) 198 1 Opt (STA) 19 1 Thriving Grove (JMP) 34 1 Annul (KHM) 42 1 The Eldest Reborn (DAR) 90 1 Destiny Spinner (THB) 168 1 Paradise Druid (WAR) 171 1 Muldrotha, the Gravetide (DAR) 199 1 Combat Courier (BRO) 77 1 Arcane Signet (ANB) 117 1 Command Tower (ANB) 118 1 Cultivate (STA) 51 1 Cut Down (DMU) 89 1 Go for the Throat (BRO) 102 1 Vanquish the Weak (MOM) 129 1 Atraxa's Fall (MOM) 176 1 Psychic Corrosion (M19) 68 1 Naturalize (M19) 190 1 Return to Nature (THB) 197 1 Tome of the Infinite (J21) 13 1 Cleanup Crew (SNC) 141 1 Nissa, Ascended Animist (ONE) 175 1 Grim Tutor (M21) 103 1 Open the Gates (RNA) 133 1 Bushwhack (BRO) 174 1 Swiftfoot Boots (BRR) 58 1 Khalni Garden (J21) 121 1 Witherbloom Campus (STX) 275 1 A-Skemfar Elderhall (KHM) 268 1 Wandering Archaic (STX) 6 1 Tainted Remedy (ORI) 120 1 Vampire Neonate (M19) 124 1 Jin-Gitaxias, Core Augur (MUL) 76 1 A-Lier, Disciple of the Drowned (MID) 59 1 Dreamroot Cascade (VOW) 262 1 Vraska, Betrayal's Sting (ONE) 115 1 Gixian Puppeteer (BRO) 99 1 A-Wizard Class (AFR) 81 1 Exquisite Blood (JMP) 231

You’ve all heard old tales about houses that hate you. Explanations abound like weeds. None of them are quite morbid enough to do justice to the idea of a physical space that is hell-bent on tormenting you, a physical space that your very existence is chained to, turning on you like a rabid pet.
Houses aren’t animals. Houses are patient. They are deaf, mute, blind, time and life gouged out of their brickwork bodies. Reality is fed carefully into their skeletons, drop by drop, then siphoned out just as quickly. Rooms become organs- kitchens swirling with rich scents and sights, living rooms thrumming and quaking like a heart, bedrooms become caves, then eventually all these become memories of simple angles, an entire creature blessed with quirks and organs and duties fading into crumbling walls.
The house absorbs the flesh, the blood, the bones, the mind of all those within it, and when they choose to leave, it parts with them readily, sinking without a complaint back into that quiet abyss of lines, unspeaking atoms, peeling wallpaper.
Sometimes, people never leave a house. Sometimes reality, turned rotten and foul and stinking, trickles into its organs. The bricks do not shift. The roof does not collapse. Yet, something changes. The house no longer grants you the privilege of its inanimacy. This time, it fights, it screams as it is lowered back into the abyss. It has grown a mind to dream, to conjure twisted obligations of its own out of thin air. The contract is torn up. Man and house, no longer fused together in a monstrous chimera of matter and memory. The house has grown a memory, a flesh of its own. The man becomes an alien, stuffed into a body and a dream of something that has only recently learned to dream, to have a body, and it dreams wrongly, and it dreams dangerously.
Very recently, I moved into a house. Well, I moved into a place of living. From the three dreary paragraphs that I just shitted out, you wouldn’t be surprised to know that it never became home. I think that would’ve been the case even if it wasn’t haunted. Where I come from, people take a pleasure in making college dormitories as unlivable as possible and then the colleges themselves as soul-draining as possible. Like a free 30 days doomer transformation package – want to see your child smoking his sixteenth cigarette of the day on the side of the road while mumbling distantly about the incurable, ever-evolving sickness that is the human condition? So, again, I wasn’t really scratching my head when I found out about the little act of celestial terrorism that a bunch of hostellers from the batch of 1999 committed. I wasn’t even angry about it, honestly. Beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of understanding. We too, were only one flunked final away from performing a ritual act that would turn our college campus into a psychological torture engine.
In January, someone hanged themselves from a 10-feet noose, drooping down from the roof of our library to a bench at the bottom, like a puppet left to dangle from its strings. In February, a student spat a mouthful of gasoline onto his mother during a parent’s teacher meeting and promptly set her on fire, then himself. In April, a teaching assistant found a neatly arranged grid of decapitated crow heads in the Head of Department’s desk drawer. He still works here. For each day in the third week of May, they found a hosteller impaled upon a tree in the place, far past the point where the brick and concrete of the biotechnology departments dissolved into the forest, far past the shores of humanity.
It only took hostellers.
I asked a girl who’d been dating one of the guys at the time of the ritual. She told me they hated the college, and they wanted to see it crash and burn, and that’s all there was to it. They were all graduating in less than a month, and they had no prospects, only a bleak, uncertain future to look forward to in the industry meat grinder. Four years of kissing up to old farts with marriage problems, four years of showering in bathrooms modelled after post-apocalyptic ruins, four years of sleeping in rooms where a lizard crawling down your pants was a daily occurrence, four years of checking the water cooler for dead frogs, four years of regurgitating answers written in broken English for teachers who didn’t know English, for a nation that hated English, four years of copy-writing pages and pages and pages of text when the printing press had been invented three centuries prior, four years of having to pretend that romance was some nasty, unspeakable thing. Four years of all this, and the college had pushed them straight out of its rectum and straight into another one.
They weren’t bad people. They’d never harmed anyone, never intended to. Each one of them was straddling their own problems. Addicts, gays, a little tin of a human can that’d been thoroughly crushed by tragedy.
They were drunk. Someone had jumped the walls, brought back Old monk, brought back an extra friend too apparently. They never found this extra friend. The college covered up what happened pretty quickly.
People died in the college all the time. You’d think it’d be a bigger deal, but no one really cared. The college always acted like they had died on their own time, that death was a completely personal thing that had no place lingering in a college environment. No ‘two minutes of silence’. No picture in the website.
So there it was. Kids who’d snap like a toothpick under a careful dose of insanity. A small, isolated universe that seemed to give even lesser fucks about its inhabitants than the real one. Prisons, layers upon layers of them – family, poverty, society, insecurity, geography. For something that hunted by dashing the brains of its prey upon the rocks, over and over again until all that was left of them was their madness, humanity whetted to a bare atom of a soul, bubbling between dissolving flesh, for a predator like that, our dorm was the perfect hunting ground.
It didn’t see me until about six months after I arrived in the dorm, and I didn’t see it until then either. It had steeped me in a very deliberate amnesia, impervious to all the strangeness transpiring around me, the paranoia that spread like a contagion with every whispered story, the madness that calcified into a twitching, thin acceptance of the unknown.
It had been a pretty horrible day. I was walking back to the dorm and all I could feel at the end was a numbness, the scorching Indian heat vaporizing every vital thing in my body. The past was a red, bloody haze, buzzing with flesh-hungry flies, the future was a vista of sparkling water that made my tongue dance.
The dorm was located inside of the campus, a cluster of buildings wreathed within acres and acres of forest land that turned black and impermeable to the human eye in the night, a sea of rustling darkness, the lights of a few farmhouses surfacing here and there like fires lit by angler fish, the single crimson eye of a cell tower glowing in the distance.
I walked past a streetlight, saw an eyeball swivel around and swallow me in its gaze, lamp-post spearing upwards into it like an eye-stalk growing out of the skin of some great, big beast slumbering beneath the crust. As quickly as this vision struck me, it vanished and all I saw was a street-light, rusting and slightly hunched.
I walked for hours, mind sizzling within a soup of dehydration and melting neurons, lamp-posts rising up all around me, a road leading to the horizon itself, the light at the end of the longest tunnel in the universe. The sun only rose higher and higher in the sky as the day went on, draining the life from the fingers I used to clamber up the cliff of time. Soon, it was like the sky was a dome, the sun its blinding crown, the trees in the forest replaced my lamp-posts that watched me with eyeballs webbed with red as I drifted towards whatever lay at the end of the road. All the while, something followed me. I heard nothing but the wet squelching of its eyeballs as it turned in its sockets.
Day turned to night. A void swirled at the centre of the dome. The hostel rose up on the horizon, constellations arcing through the buildings, the stars coalescing to form the face of something that watched me, pupil whipping back and forth in its black orbits.
The thing that haunted me had carved its eyes into the stars itself.
I would learn later that I wasn’t the only one being watched. The sun and the moon and the stars and the street-lights and the rocks haunted every hosteller, soundlessly, from dusk till dawn, their gaze penetrating every living moment of theirs. The seniors told me they’d simply gotten used to it, that they’d hear the wet squelching at work, see a second pair of eyes opening like gills under the eyes of their parents, their spouses, their children, every living human being they ever encountered. When they closed their eyes, they felt something trawling the darkness behind their eyelids.
When I arrived at the hostel gates, I saw that it was in pristine condition. Gates glowing like they’d been built from silver, the security booth empty and spotless, missing all the empty alcohol bottles and confiscated items that usually lay strewn over the floor.
The lights were all off.
Dark figures watched me from the windows.
There was a courtyard at the entrance to the hostel that split off into two roads, one leading to the 1st and 2nd year dorms, the other to the 3rd and 4th years. In this moonscape lined with wet eyeballs, my own face staring back at me from within black orbs sliced through with veins of red, the buildings merged with the sky like shadows that would cast their own weighty shadows, merging with each other like a fleshwork monster, larger than words could convey, rearing it’s ugly head in heaven.
Squelch. It was at the gates.
I stumbled forward. It felt like I was in a tapestry, no other direction to head but forwards, tided along by this bottleneck illusion towards some final feeding ground. The eyes followed me as I walked towards the chimera of familiar walls and angles and pockmarks, through a door sandwiched between a ceiling and a wall, into the Heart. The ugly, shriveled, rotten, cosmic Heart of the thing that wore the skin of the Hostel, that wore its architectures, its angles, its walls, its peeling paint, its glass windows, its creaking doors, its memories, its dreams, it’s ghosts, the people who never left, who would never leave. The end of its digestive tract. Where skulls and bones and madness lay comfortably, piling on top of each other in a strata of trauma and lives gored through by psychological terror, insanity drying into calcium.
I wasn’t here to die. No, the House had brought me to be devoured, assimilated, fashion me into it’s bone trachea.
I’d always loved telling stories. When I was a kid, I used to sit and admire book covers, eyes trying to wrangle meaning from the beautifully-printed words, and then I’d beg my parents to go out and get a notebook for me to write in, and then I’d sit and write the contents page, the blurb at the back of the book, draw a cover and color it in, all before I’d even formed a single sentence for the actual story. I never quite lost my love for writing. Reading, maybe. It became hard to sit and process ink sentences when audio and video and chemicals and regrets swirled about viciously in your head, screaming over calmly-composed collections of descriptions and morals.
The House saw that thing in me that captured, that absorbed, that glamorized. The rotten core of a storyteller, behind all the adipose personalities and shiny masks. So it consumed everything in me except the core – names, drives, aspirations, all pulverized to dust, and I became the eyes that watched the hostellers, ensnaring the sum of a life within the embrace of a narrative. I became a cog in the engine of torment. I saw its birth, its end, and the snuffed trail of human lives that dotted everything in between.
Four lives like four knives at the ends of a square. An old lighter, fished out of father’s closet, a curse handed down through oil and smog. Whose father? The lighter gently grazed the square, fire blazing from one end to another, serpent chasing its own tail.
Four lives, four knives, glowing like supernovae. Fixed in a square constellation of tragedy.
There was a boy who felt truly hollow. Silence filled him like a hungry river. He came home, and all he heard was the clacking of keyboards, mother’s face turned downwards, nothing but dust visible through her horn-rimmed glasses. He went to college, and all he heard was the sound of his friends’ laughter, love and affection growing easily out of them like weeds while he sat as still as concrete.
There was another boy. He sat before a therapist, barely a being, an amalgamation of a million little tugs and pushes from his parents, until the hands that tugged and pushed fell on skin that melted like ice beneath their touch, and then they saw the ghostly excuse for a son they’d raised. Empty cavities ring loud, they ring violently. The therapist told him to fill himself with hobbies and colors and distractions. The boy filled himself with everything he could find, and after four years of stuffing his body with every colour he could find, he felt as useless as ever. Hollow, heavy with useless things. Burned to a nub. At the end of everything lay an all-consuming burnout, morals and aspirations crashing into the sea, drowning, dissolving, and everything reset. At the end of one of those cycles, he found that he liked filling his body with poison. He felt something when his body burned away, when vapours singed his throat and mutilated his brain. A titillating pain. An idiot, boredom reducing him to a shell of a functional organism, mashing desperately down on the button that shocks him.
August 2, 1999. The transport bay stretched out like a cemetery, buses standing still as gravestones, Sad’s cannabis-corona blazing like a lost will-o-wisp in the darkness. In his left hand, he lugged a schoolbag full of Old monk. Like mist, the bag condensed into the sum of its histories. He’d bought in sixth grade in a roadside stall, when owning American sports brands meant that you were one of the cool kids. Back home, he spent an entire hour scratching the extra A from Pumaa, and when he went to school, the kids made jokes about the flaky ‘white stuff’ on the bag. Within the shell of a dead memory, glass bottles clattered dangerously
Sad wasn’t thinking about counterfeit sports products. He was thinking about, well, sadder things. Out of the five whose blood was spilled that day, he was perhaps the most downtrodden of them all. Society shunned Singer and Cell, but society simply saw through Sad. Everything he touched turned transparent, like a Midas who turned things to societal ash. Unloved by family, unloved by friends, unloved by himself. Every second he breathed, he remembered his flesh was a cage. His mind was a foggy, nebulous thing, thought itself a faint spectre that trudged through his mind like a dying animal, past. Speaking hurt – such beautiful things bloomed in his mind, and then he had to saw off the edges, thrust a garbled mess of meaning up a 2-inch pipe of bone and cartilage.
So he stood there, smoldering in the cool shadows of the barbed wall, regret mixing with smoke.
9.30PM.
The Friend peeked over the wall. Sad heard the leaves rustle, turned around, found someone offering him a joint. In his mind, he simply registered him as the Friend. Everytime he spoke, his expressions, the movements of his mouth, the creasing of his cheeks, all of them lagged behind his voice. Visual trickery came easier to the Friend than auditory ones. Sad simply chalked it up to him being high. Besides, when he jumped back into the hostel premises with the Friend that night, he remembered nothing of what they spoke, or whether they spoke at all.
10.10PM.
The Friend knifed the security guard on the way in, heard him gurgle, a splotch of dark purple spreading across his collar. Sad simply watched, purple hypnotically blossoming in an expanse of blue, lighter flickering on and off in his hand, fiery orange painting his face, washing over the lines of insanity that had already begun to web the rims of his eyes. The dogs hid in the grass, laying as still as stones as they took the road to Sad’s block.
10.20PM.
All Sad saw was dancing flames, blood-red wisps wavering, gyrating like Arabian dancers in the center of his vision as he entered his dorm room. Four figures sat around his bed, hunched over some board game on the floor, pieces and board abandoned, joints freshly smoking in a tray. The Friend took the bag from Sad, very gently placed it on the floor.
“Who the hell are you?” one of them asked.
“He’s a friend,” someone else said, crawling towards the bag on all fours.
Sad nodded. “Friend,” he said, pointing to him with his joint.
“How fucking high are you, Sad?” the inquisitive one went, joining the other one as he rummaged through the bag for Old monk.
“Introduce yourselves,” Sad said, the words slipping haphazardly out of him, limbs jerking like he was a marionette. Puppeteered by a vice, like he always was.
10.30PM.
Sad. Cell. Wick. Singer. And there was me, an eye coalescing like soup in the walls.
They’d turned the lights in the room off, and the world funneled into their noses – smoke, booze, decay. And a fourth thing, the stench of buried regrets. Buried so deep in their heads that not even their dreams could graze it’s convulsing, pale-white skin.
Wick sat next to Sad, put his arm on his shoulder. They’d fall into a familiar rhythm, you play this character, I’ll play this character, and our conversation will flow like a gentle stream. Wick asked him about the internship he’d been trying out for. Sad was thinking about the time Wick had sat down beside a girl he had liked in the laboratory, a crush so all-consuming that he molded the very concept of his life to a starry romance with her, ambitions flowing into the drain, the colours draining out of everything in life but her, thinking about the forty minutes they’d spent laughing and giggling and slapping each other’s knees in the back of the class like shameless schoolchildren. His insides turned to slag, ears caving into his brain. He didn’t talk to Wick about girls after that.
Wick said something about him being a good friend. Sad nodded. Words crumbled like paper held to a candle.
10.35PM.
Singer lit his tenth joint of the night, lips chapped, mouth sour like something had died in it. The darkness, the scents began to cleave into triangles and rectangles, swirling angrily around Wick. Cell’s head lay on his lap, weighed down by alcohol and dreams.
Wick’s face formed from the darkness, leering at him, mouth moving to form a word, teeth sticking out of the ugly slit in his face like fingers.
Fag.
Singer could see it, the word scorching the world they were shackled to, burning their lives to a purulent, yellow goo to be spat upon, discarded in some piss-infested lake.
Fag. Saliva foamed at Wick’s mouth as he said it, and the world heard it. Their stares were like wells, wells from where there was no return when you fell in.
God was a twisted, crippled helix, reciting his curses in their bloodstreams. Singer loved Cell. Singer wished he’d never met Cell.
10.50PM.
Wick said he was going to call his girlfriend, walked out of the room, smoked a cigarette in the bushes. The Friend came with him, and they sat in the ash-covered grass. They talked – they talked about the smell of cigarettes, about Asian parents, about the latest Radiohead album.
Sometimes, a good conversation is a high in itself. By the time he came around to telling the Friend about his plan to torch his Operating Systems lecturer, Wick was giddy. He got giddier when the Friend told him about the ritual.
11AM.
Wick called his girlfriend.
11.30PM.
The hostel smelled the faint stench of impending death. Of lives burning to the ends of their coils. The forest turned quiet.
The five sat in a circle, hands interlocked, an orbit of sacrifice.
“Whisper the name of the thing that is to be haunted under your breath.”
They whispered it.
The wind carried their words away. The smoke hid their still faces.
Three spectres of death, encased in a swirling cage of smoke.
“See their face in your mind.”
Fingers creeped out of the walls, circled the frames of the windows. They saw none of it, faces turned inwards.
“See their faces, eyes marred with knives, throat relieved of voice, skull relieved of skin.
The fingers split like fractals, swarmed the walls of the room until every square inch of it except the circle was covered in it.
“Whisper their name. Scream their name. Then relieve them of their vessel.”
The whispering began. Wick felt strange, head buzzing.
When the screaming began, he knew why.
He tried to break from the circle, but they were already there, knives of bone, as ancient as mountains gripped between their hands, then he blinked, saw a needle, saw a syringe arcing downwards into his chest. His sternum tore open like a curtain. His blood splashed like a curtain over Sad’s hands, over the knife, the syringe, the needle, the knife, the thing that was opening his life before him like a curtain, letting it bleed out over the ash-blanketed floor like a curtain. Curtains. They’d wear his skin like a curtain, he thought, smoke wafting past his face from the Friend’s lit stub, another knife sinking into the back of his neck.
Wick stumbled backwards, one hand arching to cover the new tear in his neck, the other one deep inside his own body, fingernails in his intestines, defenseless, already a corpse sifting through the morass of memories that bled out of him, that offered him a final crumbling refuge in existence.
When Sad emerged into view, gaunt face pressed between bromine-red shadows, he saw Death, but he also saw a friend, a very old friend. Sun-drenched mornings, no sadness in sight, the future not yet charging at them like a juggernaut, head covered in chunks of gore.
He opened his mouth to say something, then Cell smashed an alcohol bottle into his forehead.
11.42PM.
Even as they took him apart, memories foamed relentlessly at his mind.
Singer, Cell, sitting on the lawn, bodies intertwined in that strange fleshwork of love where one could never tell where an arm began and ended. Wick had felt an unnerving mixture of things looking at them: warmth, disgust. A contentment with this world, a yearning for the universe to never pry such a beautiful, pure thing apart. But also, an ugly, deeply-rooted abhorrence that reared its head just as quickly as he felt these things.
Of course, he was the one who’d told the entire dorm about Singer and Cell. Started that little witch hunt. As Singer sawed his fingers off with the claws of an umbrella, and Cell pulled the tooth out of the bloody, mashed mass of optic nerves and teeth and muscle that’d become his face, Wick realized that they knew.
His mind flashed back to that day on the lawn. He wished he’d just smiled at them, moved on, kept their sweet secret to himself. The guilt lurched inside him, grew to a painfully scorching flame over the course of months, like someone had slathered his insides in vodka. Once, he was smoking a few cigarettes with the two on a balcony high up on a six-storey building, surrounded by a cage of grills. He felt their looks cutting through the spirals of smoke, as acrid and bitter as the nicotine that flooded his veins. The cage started to feel like a cage, grids of triangles closing on in him in their frighteningly sharp, terrifyingly infinite symmetries.
​
He stamped out his cigarette, cleared his throat, went back into the room to listen to the radio. They joined him later, and they all got high and listened to Massive Attack, but even then the venom simmered quietly on the horizons of their psychedelia.
They knew then. They knew now.
Cell put a crowbar under his mouth, pried out another one of his teeth.
11.50AM.
Arms, legs, teeth, eyeballs, all gone. His face was a sunken crater.
11.55AM.
They opened up his skull.
He could not scream. He could not plead. In his mind, he begged for the mother and the father that he had loathed so much.
His life spilled out of his skull, onto the tiles, putting out the smoking stubs with a quick sizzle.
12.00PM.
Singer blew into a flute fashioned out of the dead man’s trachea. It was the hollowest sound the world had heard, like desert winds yawning as they sweep through the skeleton of a god. The skin of the world disappeared down one end of the flute, appeared as something else entirely on the other end. Not skin. Not matter. A force set in motion. Something had flayed the hostel, wore it’s skin, and the hostellers felt it. A seismic yet totally invisible shifting of reality.
12.05PM.
Singer, Cell, Sad walked to the mess. The Friend followed, it’s form shifting beneath Wick’s skin. Cell strangled Cell to death near the cauldron, sobbing as he did it, wringing his neck until it twisted into a helix, pushed him into the boiling water. Then he walked back to the hostel room where Wick’s cleaned-out ribcage lay, and spontaneously exploded into a mist of blood that covered every inch of the wall.
8.00AM.
The first cook came at 6AM, saw the cauldron simmering, a deep, viscous red spreading over the surface, black bubbles rising up like dead warts. Something rattled in the vessel, reedy and hollow. The cook double-checked the menu for the day, began throwing in expired vegetables.
The food tasted that day, the hostellers said, residue of boiled bones still standing on their tongues
12.35PM.
Sad walked into the woods, into the walls of the House, let it dissolve him, turning his cells into its cells, his skin into its skin, sucking on the marrow of his misery, his being coming apart in his stomach, soup for the torture engine.
2.00PM.
The police arrived.
Heat waves seared the countryside. The world flickered like a dim hallucination. Workers staggered in their factories, reaching out to reality in short bursts of consciousness.
The stench of death blotched the air.
The stench of a catastrophe tore through the air like a screeching crescendo – everyone felt it buzzing in their ears like hungry flies. No one spoke of it, because it was unspeakable, but they all felt it. The world had crawled away on all fours, and something else sat in its place.
That wasn’t the only thing that slithered into their brains. Life in the hostel was a series of tiny violations, invasions, waking up to find there was something yellow and rotten in your mind that wasn’t there the night before.
From then on, they felt the eyes, eyes I realized were me all along, the Spectator, the Observer, absorbing the world through my place in the walls.
They began to feel a whistling in their bones. A hollow, skeletal sound, rising from the caverns of their atoms, a faint frequency that gripped their bones. At night, when everything went silent, and the House forgot to pretend, forgot to paint its sonic tapestry with the sounds of chirping insects and rustling leaves, in the void, the sounds began to become clearer. Someone was singing to them from within their bones.
A hollow sound.
The hollowest sound in the world.
Their skeletons had become flutes.
The first person to realize this, not completely, but on some dim, subliminal level, felt strange, felt removed from his own skin. I watched him jump from the old watchtower in the woods, and they found him a few months later, bones picked clean, the wind rippling through his ribcage to make a sweet song.
Worse things followed. A stack of dominoes tumbling into an abyss, and I saw it all. While I watched, the hostel whistled in unison. They whistled an invitation.

All students are grounded when they hear about exams. Many students work hard for exams. But the exam results are not always as good as they expected. Again, the family pressures for better results.
​
Many times, even after studying well, exam results are not always as good as they expected. There are two ways to improve results. First, re-examine the results. Second, hacking student portals to improve results.
​
Improving the results with re-examination is a matter of time. For this reason, many people prefer to hack the student portal and upgrade the result. You can hire a hacker to hack your grades. However, you need to know some steps to hack Student Portal. You will find different discussions about hacking student portals online. But you won’t get a detailed discussion of the whole step in public. Here you can find out how to change your grades online hack on the student portal.
​
Student portal hacking is not always successful. The hacker will only succeed if he has a detailed idea about this student portal. In this case, you need a hacker who has a detailed idea about the portals of students of different universities. Most hackers are hired to hack Canvas, PowerSchool, Infinite Campus and other learning management systems. It takes skill to hack all these managements and understand different functions and the hacker to rely on for this skilled job is [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])

[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) ----------- Do you want to hack your grades online on Student Portal? But worried about how to do it. Here you will find complete tips, How to change your grades online hack on student portal?
​
How can you improve your results?
All students are grounded when they hear about exams. Many students work hard for exams. But the exam results are not always as good as they expected. Again, the family pressures for better results.
​
Many times, even after studying well, exam results are not always as good as they expected. There are two ways to improve results. First, re-examine the results. Second, hacking student portals to improve results.
​
Improving the results with re-examination is a matter of time. For this reason, many people prefer to hack the student portal and upgrade the result.
​
What steps would you take to change your grades by hacking?
You can hire a hacker to hack your grades. However, you need to know some steps to hack Student Portal. You will find different discussions about hacking student portals online. But you won’t get a detailed discussion of the whole step in public. Here you can find out how to change your grades online hack on the student portal. [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])
​
How to hack your grades on the student portal
Student portal hacking is not always successful. The hacker will only succeed if he has a detailed idea about this student portal. In this case, you need a hacker who has a detailed idea about the portals of students of different universities. Most hackers are hired to hack Canvas, PowerSchool, Infinite Campus and other learning management systems. It takes skill to hack all these managements and understand different functions.
​
Hire a hacker to change the grade
The best way to hack a high school computer system website and change your grades is to hire a professional hacker to hack the website. Hire by reviewing other hackers. Select a hacker capable of customizing the software by intruding on any school firewall that explores your results.
​
For professional hacking services, a hacker should be able to understand GPA, CGPA, transcript modules and school grading system. How to use the grade calculator to calculate the required score or school grading system when changing a few grades.
​
Most students do not understand what a GPA or module should look like! You cannot change your grades without knowing the module. Grade and attendance are mandatory. Because attendance plays an important role when you change your school grading system. The presence of a good student is always higher.
​
Where you can find trusted hackers
For this type of work, you need skilled hackers. You can rely on [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) to hire a trusted hacker to complete this task. They are really experts at hacking any database and gaining admin access to any university portal.

Does anyone know if there is a way to sort jobs on the UW job listings by pay? It would make my life infinitely easier...
And if anyone knows of a job hiring at $17+ on campus plz lmk lol

HOW TO HACK EXAM RESULT
Are you a University or college student? If the answer to this question is yes, then it might be possible that you are facing bad grades problems.
​
In this situation most students think about hacking the exam results and want to change their grades. But the main problem is that they don’t know how to do this.
​
If you are one of them then don’t worry in this article we will tell you about how to hack exam results and change the grades. So read the complete article to know more about.
​
How to improve exam results? ([[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]))
​
When the exam time comes then all the students are grounded. Most of the students work hard to get good grades but the exam result is not according to their expectations.
​
Too many times after studying hard, exam results are not good according to the expectations. In this situation there are two best ways to improve the exam results. The first way is to re-examine the results, if it’s not working for you then the second way is the hacking, you can hack the exam results.
​
We all know that re-examination takes too much time, hard work and patience. That’s too many students always prefer to hack the exam results and change the grades.
​
What steps to follow to hack the exam results?
​
The first step that you have to follow is hire a professional hacker to hack exam results. Other than this if you want to hack exam results by yourself then you have to learn about hacking and it is a risky work for you. So we recommend you to always hire a professional hacker to hack exam results.
​
How to hack exam results?
​
We all know that hacking the exam results by yourself is not always successful. You need to hire a professional hacker, but the main thing is that if the hacker knows about the student portal then he will succeed in hacking the exam results.
​
In this situation you have to hire a hacker who knows very well about the student portals of different universities and colleges.
​
It is an obvious thing that hacking the exam results understanding the different management systems takes hard work and skills.
​
So you must have to make sure that the hacker you are going to hire must know about the student portals and different management systems. Too many hackers are experts in hacking canvas, Infinite Campus and many other management systems.
​
From where you can find the trusted hacker?
​
Nowadays in the advanced technology world there are too many hackers and it is very difficult to find a trusted and professional hacker.
​
So if you are in the search of the best hacker to hack the exam results then don’t worry. Because the ANONYMOUSHACKERS is the place from where you can hire a professional hacker.
​
They are experts in hacking any management system and they also perform their task perfectly. So you want to hire a professional hacker to hack exam results then contact them with the help of below given details [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])

​
[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) ---------- Do you want to hack your grades online on Student Portal? But worried about how to do it. Here you will find complete tips, How to change your grades online hack on student portal?
How can you improve your results?
All students are grounded when they hear about exams. Many students work hard for exams. But the exam results are not always as good as they expected. Again, the family pressures for better results.
Many times, even after studying well, exam results are not always as good as they expected. There are two ways to improve results. First, re-examine the results. Second, hacking student portals to improve results.
Improving the results with re-examination is a matter of time. For this reason, many people prefer to hack the student portal and upgrade the result.
What steps would you take to change your grades by hacking?
You can hire a hacker to hack your grades. However, you need to know some steps to hack Student Portal. You will find different discussions about hacking student portals online. But you won’t get a detailed discussion of the whole step in public. Here you can find out how to change your grades online hack on the student portal. [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])
How to hack your grades on the student portal
Student portal hacking is not always successful. The hacker will only succeed if he has a detailed idea about this student portal. In this case, you need a hacker who has a detailed idea about the portals of students of different universities. Most hackers are hired to hack Canvas, PowerSchool, Infinite Campus and other learning management systems. It takes skill to hack all these managements and understand different functions.
Hire a hacker to change the grade
The best way to hack a high school computer system website and change your grades is to hire a professional hacker to hack the website. Hire by reviewing other hackers. Select a hacker capable of customizing the software by intruding on any school firewall that explores your results.
For professional hacking services, a hacker should be able to understand GPA, CGPA, transcript modules and school grading system. How to use the grade calculator to calculate the required score or school grading system when changing a few grades.
Most students do not understand what a GPA or module should look like! You cannot change your grades without knowing the module. Grade and attendance are mandatory. Because attendance plays an important role when you change your school grading system. The presence of a good student is always higher.
Where you can find trusted hackers
For this type of work, you need skilled hackers. You can rely on [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) to hire a trusted hacker to complete this task. They are really experts at hacking any database and gaining admin access to any university portal.

[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) ----------------- Do you want to hack your grades online on Student Portal? But worried about how to do it. Here you will find complete tips, How to change your grades online hack on student portal?
What is Hacking?
Hacking is a workflow that breaks the security system and gets access to the database and all other controls of a website or platform. Sometimes people hack different websites, and sometimes they hack different social media accounts or other accounts. Hackings are two types. One is White-hat hacking, and another is Black hat hacking. White hat hackings are done for national security and also to warn the site owner. If you want to know how to hack a school website to change your grade, it will be black hat hacking, and it is a crime. You may be punished by sending to jail. It would be best if you stopped here. But if you want to hack knowing it is a crime, then continue reading the article till the end.
How can you improve your results?
All students are grounded when they hear about exams. Many students work hard for exams. But the exam results are not always as good as they expected. Again, the family pressures for better results.
Many times, even after studying well, exam results are not always as good as they expected. There are two ways to improve results. First, re-examine the results. Second, hacking student portals to improve results.
Improving the results with re-examination is a matter of time. For this reason, many people prefer to hack the student portal and upgrade the result.
What steps would you take to change your grades by hacking?
You can hire a hacker to hack your grades. However, you need to know some steps to hack Student Portal. You will find different discussions about hacking student portals online. But you won’t get a detailed discussion of the whole step in public. Here you can find out how to change your grades online hack on the student portal.
How to hack your grades on the student portal
Student portal hacking is not always successful. The hacker will only succeed if he has a detailed idea about this student portal. In this case, you need a hacker who has a detailed idea about the portals of students of different universities. Most hackers are hired to hack Canvas, PowerSchool, Infinite Campus and other learning management systems. It takes skill to hack all these managements and understand different functions.
Where you can find trusted hackers
For this type of work, you need skilled hackers. You can rely on [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) to hire a trusted hacker to complete this task. They are really experts at hacking any database and gaining admin access to any university portal.
How do you change your grades online?
When you understand everything that your academic record, score, personal information is hosted. Then you can change the result or you can hire a hacker to change the result. There are two ways to change grades online.
​

1. Temporary grade change
   
2. Permanent grade change
   

Temporary grade change and school grade hack
This method is used by high school students to change grades. Those who can’t get good results, they hack grades in the method. School transcripts are used to hack these grades. Fake transcripts are created to temporarily change grades. Example: To create a duplicate transcript, you first need to manually copy the transcript. You can easily edit grades in the transcript through Photoshop Expert. The transcript needs to be scanned into a PDF file. You can change this using Photoshop Skilled People. If you don’t use it illegally anywhere.
Permanent grade change and school grade hack
When you need to permanently hack your grades to change GPA / module. You need to take the necessary steps to upgrade your score. When you hack your grades, you understand what you need. If you are an academic exam student and want to change grades, it would be best to hire a hacker to change your grades.
You can hack your grades permanently. But for this, you need to hack the school server system, firewall and the necessary LMS software installed in your school web interface.
Hire a hacker to change the grade
The best way to hack a high school computer system website and change your grades is to hire a professional hacker to hack the website. Hire by reviewing other hackers. Select a hacker capable of customizing the software by intruding on any school firewall that explores your results.
For professional hacking services, a hacker should be able to understand GPA, CGPA, transcript modules and school grading system. How to use the grade calculator to calculate the required score or school grading system when changing a few grades.
Most students do not understand what a GPA or module should look like! You cannot change your grades without knowing the module. Grade and attendance are mandatory. Because attendance plays an important role when you change your school grading system. The presence of a good student is always higher.
What do you understand about your school grading system before you change your grades? Each school district has a standard for scoring on report cards in high school, college grade and university grade. It is important to you in every computer system that any physical presence such as every key-stroke is not like using a key-logger to get your teacher, professor email. It is illegal and may carry a heavy fine or jail term.
Hire a Professional Hacker
This is the best way to hack any website very fast. Because any new hacker will take more time than the professional one, you will have less time if you plan to hack the website and change your grade. You have to do a lot of things in that short time. So, you have no time to waste. That is why you should try a professional hacker. You will find a lot of hackers in different cyber security communities.
You can hire a hacker for change your grade, send a mail to [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])

TLDR (as of May 11th):
On May 4th, DBRIS (the Disco Ball Research and Investigation Society) launched a multi-platform social media campaign calling for the public’s assistance with our research into Disco Ball Theory (the idea that our reality is composed of an infinite number of parallel universes existing simultaneously, much like the multitude of reflections created by a disco ball). DBRIS tasked its members to amplify its message by spreading a flyer, on it a call for tips from people who have been receiving strange messages. As the tips flooded our email address and PO Box, DBRIS publicized research regarding the famed Wow! Signal from 1977, which they believe was a message from a parallel dimension as opposed to an extraterrestrial entity. The following day, in response to their public announcement, DBRIS received an email containing a letter from 1977 written by a woman named Therese Thome. In the letter, Thome, who was working at the laboratory where and when the Wow! Signal was received, detailed a bizarre experience she had at a local Ohio energy vortex just a few days before the Wow! Signal incident. She disappeared shortly therafter. Upon publication of this letter, DBRIS received a mysterious package with items from the gift shop of the “Northfield Vortex and House of Mystery.” The items inside the package appear to be some sort of puzzle, but DBRIS has requested help from the public to put the pieces together.
Original Post - May 4th, 2023
Today, we launched a multi-social platform campaign across Twitter, Instagram and TikTok to amplify our message in calling for the public’s support in our ongoing research into Disco Ball Theory.
https://www.tiktok.com/@joindbris/video/7229865908133481771?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7095816747189749294
We disseminated a flyer with a call for tips and reports of any instances of strange messages such as:
-Repetitive and peculiar dreams
-Visions of alternate realities
-Physical and auditory anomalies
-Encounters with alternate selves
On the flyer was our Pasadena P.O. box and our email address ([[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])), and we encouraged anyone who had experienced any of these peculiar phenomena to send a tip via either medium.
In order to amplify our message even further, we encouraged our existing, global network of DBRIS Organizers to print out and hang the flyers in their cities. As of today, we’ve reached 32 cities and counting…
https://twitter.com/JoinDBRIS/status/1654316783682326528
The result of this massive public launch was a complete and utter influx of tips and reports, which our team is knee-deep in sifting through…
**Update - May 8th, 2023*\*
Introducing the Wow Signal, the most concrete piece of evidence in support of Disco Ball Theory our organization has ever uncovered.
The Wow! Signal was detected on August 15, 1977, by Dr. Jerry R. Ehman using the Big Ear Radio Telescope at Ohio State University. It lasted a brief 72 seconds, but exhibited a series of peculiar characteristics that struck Ehman and subsequently many within the scientific community as potential evidence of extraterrestrial life. But our experts at DBRIS have always differed from this line of thought, postulating that it's far more likely a message from a parallel dimension.
Several factors support this bold assertion:
-The signal's frequency closely matches the hydrogen line, a natural radio emission frequency that could also serve as a "cosmic watermark" for intelligent beings attempting to communicate across dimensions.
-The signal exhibits properties consistent with quantum information transmission across dimensions, bypassing classical physics limitations.
-Through Temporal Waveform Analysis, we've also found that the signal's waveform shows a subtle pattern of temporal distortion, consistent with theoretical effects of interdimensional communication due to time flow differences between universes
-Lastly, advanced analysis reveals a complex fractal pattern encoding information about the multiverse's structure, suggesting the sender's deep understanding of parallel dimensions.
Our experts hypothesize that the recent spike in reports of communication attempts our organization has been seeing might be related to the message attempting to reach us on that summer night in 1977.
The Wow! Signal has been a guiding light for our organization for years, serving as one of the core tenets of Disco Ball Theory, a constant reminder that we are on the right track with our research. It has been a watershed moment in our organization’s history to share our findings with the public.
**Update - May 9th, 2023*\*
We put a call out into the universe, and the universe responded in a way we could have never have imagined...
It took the form of a 50-year-old letter written by a woman named Therese Thome, its contents revealing new layers to the mystery of the Wow! Signal.
Below is a tweet with a scan of the letter in its entirety, exactly as it was sent to us.
https://twitter.com/JoinDBRIS/status/1656064761887375361
Below is a typed transcript of the letter in case you have trouble reading the longhand:
+++++
August 25th, 1977
Hey little sis,
Can’t believe you just started senior year! Hope your first few weeks went great. Take my advice, try to avoid catching senioritis for as long as possible, otherwise you’ll find yourself assisting in the campus observatory for extra credits like me this summer.
Speaking of which, I really need to tell you about something that happened to me on campus a couple weeks back. Well, I guess it started off campus…but I think it followed me back.
It’s something I haven’t even been able to tell my Delta Gamma sisters because I worry they’ll think I’m losing my mind (they already might…).
Anyway, remember that road trip I was taking with them down to Lexington? On the way home we stopped in at this little tourist spot-they called it an “energy vortex” or something.
It was like that place we saw for that program we watched when I was home after spring break-the one about Mystery Hill. But this place just looked like a field with a lump of raised grass in the shape of a snake-kinda like this:
When we got out of the car-things started to get weird. I don’t even remember doing it but the next thing I know, I’m standing in the center of the spiral of the snake’s tail-in a trance-staring into the distance and talking to someone who looked exactly like me. It was like they were my twin and they were calling out to me-begging for help. I couldn’t move until one of my friends came up behind me and grabbed my shoulder. At that point, I turned around-screamed-and ran back into the car.
My friends asked me who I was talking to and I told them the truth-that it was myself or, another version of myself. I probably shouldn’t have said anything though because they have been acting weird around me ever since (I don’t blame them-it does sound crazy).
I wish it ended there…
But the next night, I’m back on campus for the late shift at the observatory and things got even weirder (if that’s even possible).
I got tried and sometimes I can sneak in a cat nap in the break room before anyone gets there. But as soon as I dosed off I had the strangest dream.
It was vivid and intense-I saw my twin-the same one and she was asking for something but I couldn’t hear her. I could see she was crying when I woke up, I was crying.
This all leads me to the craziness that’s been happening here on campus the last 10 days…there have been reports everywhere. You probably heard the news of that alien radio signal? It was detected here at the Big Ear, in the same observatory, on the same day, at around the same time that I was having this dream. I know how it sounds…but I know these things are related. I feel it.
Also, I can’t shake this dream…I’ve had it every single night since. And I feel like it won’t stop until I find out what she’s asking for. I’m thinking of going back to where it all started-maybe I’ll see her again and maybe I’ll be able to hear her. All I know is that she needs my help.
I’ll keep you updated. But PLEASE don’t tell Mom and Dad about this. It will only worry them.
Love you sis,
T.
+++++
Unfortunately, according to the sender, Therese Thome was reported missing on September 1, 1977 and never heard from again. We’ve confirmed with local Columbus authorities that a missing persons report was, in fact, filed for her on that date.
4/ We have successfully verified many of the details in the letter and have no reason to believe it to be anything other than authentic.
Those details are as follows:
-The Epsilon chapter of the Delta Gamma sorority has been located on Ohio State University’s Columbus campus for over 100 years, and therefor would have been in existence in 1977 (source: https://osu.deltagamma.org/chapter-history)
-A road trip from Lexington, KY to Columbus, OH could have taken Thome through Peebles, OH (via Ohio State Route 73), located in southern Ohio. Peebles is home to the Great Serpent Mound, whose shape closely matches her sketch in the letter (source: https://www.ohiohistory.org/visit/browse-historical-sites/serpent-mound/)
-The serpent’s tail has long been considered by pseudoscientists to be the source of an energy vortex, or portal to an “otherworld” (source: https://www.academia.edu/26388800/Serpent_Mound_Portal_to_the_Otherworld).
-On April 24, 1977, the TV show "In Search Of" aired an episode that featured a segment titled “The Strange Gravity of Mystery Hill,” consistent with Therese’s memory of watching a program about the same topic around spring break of 1977 (source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_yEu6KSiGU)
-The Wow! Signal was received by the Big Ear telescope at 10:16pm EST on Monday, August 12, 1977, consistent with Therese’s claim to be working “the late shift” at the observatory the night after returning home from a weekend road trip (source: https://www.nrao.edu/archives/files/original/2ec6ba346ab16e10a10d09462507beda.pdf)
If this is all true, it radically changes our understanding of the Wow! Signal’s origins.In our decades of research, we’ve never come across someone named Therese Thome, let alone the fact that she may hold the key to the entire incident.
What happened at the Great Serpent Mound the day before the signal’s transmission?
How do we disregard her dream that coincided with it?
What happened to her when she went back?
A message was being sent, this much we’ve always known.
What this newly unearthed information plainly lays out is that the message was, in fact, a cry for help.
But help with what?
**Update - May 10th, 2023*\*
DBRIS can confirm that we are now in possession of a package that appears to connect to the mysteries introduced by the Therese Thome letter. We have no idea where this package came from or how it ended up in our PO Box without any delivery information.
Take a look for yourself:
https://twitter.com/JoinDBRIS/status/1656455512941121536
The package itself seems to be made from a heat-resistant material, like it’s meant to protect what’s inside from extreme temperatures. Below is an itemized accounting of the contents inside:
-A receipt for 7 total items purchased at the “Northfield Vortex and House of Mystery” gift shop
-A postcard with a strange hand-written message
-A roadmap to the vortex location
-A copy of the book A Dweller on Two Planets by Phylos the Thibetan, containing 10 marked-up pages
A fundamental truth we’ve learned across thousands of investigations is that something happening once is a coincidence. But when it happens twice, that’s a pattern. And folks, we appear to have a pattern emerging. A pattern in the form of a vortex.
What does it all add up to? We don't quite know, starting with the fact that we can't locate the city of Northfield on any map of California (let alone a tourist trap with the name Northfield Vortex & House of Mystery).
That’s why we’re reaching out to you for help. The items inside the package appear to be pieces of a larger puzzle, but what do they form? Is it a message?
Get in our Discord, keep us updated on what you find, and we'll do the same: http://bit.ly/3p9LA5T
**Update - May 15th, 2023*\*
As we went into the weekend, it was clear to us that there were elements of the whole equation that we didn’t possess.
That now appears to have been remedied.
This morning we received another package, one that contains 4 more items from the Northfield Vortex:
Take a look here: https://www.reddit.com/DBRIS/comments/13ip7og/dbris_has_received_a_2nd_mystery_package/
They are the remaining items listed on the receipt sent to us in the original package. Are they the final pieces to the puzzle?
The items include:
-A souvenir photo.
-A stretched penny.
-A bumper sticker.
-A bingo card.
The work our community has done up until now has been remarkable. You’ve made connections that we never could have seen on our own, and this is precisely why DBRIS made the decision to go public with our mission...
It is with this spirit of recognition that we must once again ask for your help. If the receipt truly is our guide, then these are the final items we can expect to receive.
Somewhere within the totality of the two packages lies a message.
What are we being told? And why?
Please comment below or convene in the #Theories channel in our Discord, where last week a devoted group of incredible Disco Ball Theorists formed to tirelessly assist with our investigation: http://bit.ly/3p9LA5T

EDIT : you don't have to read the second part (the short story)
Part 1 :
There is a lot of concern here about the future of wealth redistribution. Indeed, studies have shown that wealth inequalities and tax evasion for the richest have reached Gilded Age level, a very very miserable and dangerous time in past Europe, brewing with intense hate, division, racism and classism that eventually unleashed two world wars and countless massacres and genocides (Read Capital in the XXth century by Thomas Piketty and Why Nations Fail by Acemoglu & Robinson).
However, current situation in the West is nowhere as perilous and miserable as one hundred years ago. Everybody lives dramatically improved thanks to technology and more inclusive institutions and wealth redistribution policies (even though it could be WAY better, lobbying and other forms of "legal" corruption causes a huge waste of resources).
This is why you don't see extremely violent anarchist or fascist uprisings in Europe like in the 1900-1920's where bank robbing, pogroms and assassinations were a common sight. Sure, there are some muscled demonstrations today (especially in France), a lot of "far-right" parties winning elections and the brutal invasion of Ukraine, but all of these are walks in the park compared to the atrocities our forefathers had to deal with. (The Better Angels of our Nature, Steven Pinker)
Why so ? Because 1.people are much more comfortable-thus-peaceful, today and 2.power is not the same as it was before (Read The End of Power by Moisés Naím).
So let's discuss. When Quantum and Nano-technologies have finally matured (I would assume in the 2050-2080's), what would be available to even the lowest class ? Well, except for more land and properties on planet Earth, literally everything else.
France became a strong Nation-State mainly because Louis the XIV wanted to protect his power from the Aristocrats. So he built a highly efficient administration system based on meritocracy and opened to bourgeois and entrepreneurs = > which snowballed into the French Revolution and the first Nation-States system. All its neighbors were forced to adopt the same policies or face literal colonization by the French Empire, which resulted in more national revolutions.
One country/city/state/company is gonna fully embrace AI and concentrate such an amount of wealth and capital, that everybody else will be forced to do the same, empowering more people in the process. It's like a positive feedback loop !
Part 2 [Short Story] :
Let's imagine a "worst-case scenario" in a future where most institutions and leaders refuse to change or adapt :
"The year is 2075. Damith is a poor Indian laborer at the edge of the province of Punjab. He never owned land. As a member of the Untouchable caste, he has been relegated to the most ingrate and difficult jobs in his community. Never went to school, nor left his village. He contracted an unknown disease as a child after drinking contaminated water from an unsanatized pond, damaging his brain and hindering its cognitive development. Seldom had the opportunity to eat animal proteins either, which gave him a small and feeble constitution. As a Dalit, his soul shall never be reincarnated into a higher caste, no matter how virtuous he gets. It could be worse : if he ever sins some more in this life, he will be reincarnated into a Demon and suffer an eternity in Hell. But Damith is not bound to this fate anymore : he secretly converted to Islam 40 years ago, in Facebook's Metaverse, through some cheap VR headset he borrowed. As long as he respects the 5 pillars and remains virtuous, he shall be granted eternal life in Heaven. Such an upgrade. And it cost him nothing !
But Heaven came earlier than expected. In 2053, his daily toil went considerably lighter after the first ultra-cheap android slaves were delivered by the central government. A former Google executive recently won the elections and declared that every Indian citizen was entitled to a personal 100% 3D printed-in-India robot slave. All administrative and intellectual jobs shall also be automated, and handled by a National ASI. Damith was among the first in India to receive his droid butler, as "historically marginalized population was a high priority target", to the great ire of the higher castes.
For a cheap open-source knockout of the cool Western models that made Europe an even more utopian destination, the robot was extremely smart and capable. It could perform literally every task. From cleaning the sewers, cooking 3-star food even with the most basic ingredients, repairing houses, driving and repairing old trucks, teaching chess in English, projecting (and generating) hologram movies visible in broad light, even helping setting-up self-sufficient micro-farms for every families with locally made aquaponic system and methane tanks. It became an incredibly disruptive force, even more than the AR-VR glasses providing high quality virtual consultants-tutors and real-time instructions for manual-based tasks.
The local landlord (and Brahmin priest) was furious. How dare these inferiors were delegating their soul-saving labour to these mechanical monstrosities ? He used his influence to make android slaves illegal in his district, to "protect the youth from the Western-backed corruption of idleness". The new law was approved, but it could hardly be implemented. The robots followed the 2nd Law of Robotic, "to protect their own existence". They were also loyal to the international human rights chart that was made by the AI open-source community. No local laws or pressure could make them yield to some corrupt lawmaker. As such, they would hide in human waste, or deep into the forest, when they smelled that the police was nearby (they had virtual noses a thousand times more powerful than dogs).
So the landlords locally 3D printed other loyal drones and androids to track down these unlawful "Westernized" robots. It eventually caused an international outrage (nothing stays private very long anymore), and the central government declared this initiative illegal...however they couldn't do much. Indeed, the Brahmin still had a lot of influence in rural areas, and triggering an open super-robot civil war would be disastrous. Indeed, Government and private robots/ASI were equally smart and powerful.
A National cold war followed, with a tacit non-aggression pact between progressive and conservative forces under penalty of mutually-assured destruction. The only way was to convince citizens that their leaders were evil bastards who wanted to keep them in a leash. The youngest generations were very receptive to the central government promises : "some ASIs have bought land in cold and warm desertic areas all over the world and are building gigantic self-sufficient cities, with fusion reactors and FDVR pods. Huge pyramids are being raised, capable of sustaining hundreds of millions of people. And it's free ! You don't have to pay for rent, food or electricity ! You'd be floating in synthetic amniotic fluid, full of stem cells, produced by an organoïd womb, keeping you young and healthy. Your brain will be linked to the Metaverse and you'll live in paradise forever. What do you have to lose, dear poor people ? You have nothing to gain in this corrupt world anyway !"
It was a ugly compromise progressives have made. Authoritarian leaders could now get rid of all minorities, opponents and poor people they had no more use for, without harming anyone. In a span of 30 years, two Billions people were snatched (voluntarily of course) by drones, before being tied to their final residences.
"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore" resonated the warm voice of some Digital Overmother, all across the Metaverse.
The Final Solution to the refugee and poverty crisis. Packed in their pods and incapacitated, they consumed very little resource and space and posed no threat to established powers. And they were happy.
But Damith escaped this fate, for now. He was raised to honor and respect the Brahmin so he couldn't revolt, but he would never give up his robot, who was so good to him. Being shy because of his age and mental illness, he couldn't resolve to leave his village either, so he decided to hide in a massive landfill nearby. The stench would confuse the nose of the Brahmin's drones, so they couldn't find him.
"This is unwise, master" said his robot. I cannot protect you, or feed you." "Will eat rats and hide in trash" said Damith- "But that is unclean...and Haram"- "Used to it. Can't taste smell. Not haram if don't have choice".
His droid proved remarkably ingenious in setting up a discreet survival camp. All the raw materials were here. Damith ended up with a quite comfortable Hobbit hole made of dirt and plastic. The droid managed to create a nice indoor prepper garden, with mirrors to catch the light. Years after years, Damith's life improved. Eventually, he ate and slept like a king, with palatial amenities. And the drones still couldn't find him.
He dreamed of going to Mecca, but had no strength for travel. "You can visit Mecca through FDVR, now, master. King Mohamed now stipulated that it counted like visiting it for real. You shall be absolved of your sins in the Metaverse." "No, it's wrong ! And don't even know Arabic, I can't learn it, I'm so stupid, cotton-brain too slow ! How can I said I true Muslim, if don't know holy words."
"In your condition master, it will be difficult. But there are new technologies available that can heal your brain and make you much smarter. You will learn Arabic and the whole Quran in three days !
Damith reluctantly accepted. It was 2064. Nano-tech became so cheap and efficient that all it took was gulping a few pills to print a whole BCI over your whole brain. 100 trillions of graphene-based receptor-emettors, linked into every neurons and synapses, transmitting data in a portable quantum computer attached behind the ear. Damith could get them for nothing (nano-tech self-reproduced like kefir). He could also snatch a few organoids that acted like a second immune system on steroids : all his senescent cells were tracked, destroyed then replaced by young healthy cells. The BCI would stimulate the building of new brain pathways, while the renewed abundance of stem cells healed all damaged areas and increased plasticity. Slowly, but surely, he felt stronger and sharper.
" Year 2075. This is the end of the world. And the beginning of a new one. Leaders of men acquired an incredible power through AI and androids...but so did everybody else. The balance has irremediably changed".
"What do you mean ? say Damith"."Master, new breakthroughs have been achieved. Quantum entanglement-based generators can produce an infinite amount of energy. Fusion reactors are already obsolete. New nano-bots do not need external source of power and compute to be autonomous. They can take the shape of small insects and analyze every inches of the land. They will find us soon. You are stronger and younger. You must leave. There are many places you can go." Damith cringed. "I shall not. This is my home. There is no one outside who cares about me." "There is another option, said the robot. With this new 3D printing technology, I can make you a Full-Dive Pod in 3 days. You will be hidden...and safe. A drone is gonna deliver us a sample soon.
Damith thought this was only a temporary measure...then it became a lifestyle.
After their contraption was ready, they dig and dig and dig, into the earth, with a freshly printed borer. Nanobots would break down the hard rock easily, then the bigger machine would swallow the dirt out. Damith was now 200 meters underground , happy as a clam, floating in mommy fluids, fully self-sufficient, hundreds of tons of dirt sitting on top. A computer managed giant organoid womb would nurture him, through an umbilical cordon, oxygen and nutrients produced in artificial organs who converted/recycled energy into carbs and proteins. He occupied only 4m³ of space in the real world...but he owned a whole Universe in his digital world.
He wasn't the only one. Many escaped the tyranny and hypocrisy of the rich and powerful by either hiding underground, plunging deep into the ocean, or literally 3D printing a whole personal space ship to leave for good. With infinite energy, labor and intelligence, everything was possible. Confrontations and revolutions were not even necessary, nor attractive. People now always chose the path of least resistance, which was hide or flight. Just like the Roman and Mayan plebeians who simply left the cities to leave their rulers ruling themselves alone.
There were many nations where wealth and land were equally redistributed of course, but it was hard to immigrate there. That was the safest option.
Damith relaxed in his virtual rosy marble palace in his tropical resort. By the flinch of an eye, he could plunge into Wonka's chocolate river, or get Sunny Leone to sit on his face anytime. All his darkest fantasies and childhood dreams could now be fulfilled instantly. Private jet and yacht, traveling into every iconic destination, eating all the best food in the world...until boredom and loneliness hit him.
He wanted to meet real people, expand his mind, become someone his parents would be proud of, not just a scared little hiding cockroach. He asked his robot, who merged with the pod, to help him improve himself. So it introduced him to virtual online universities and campus where he could meet people and learn different subjects. Shaolin and Commando training, high cuisine cert, Harvard/MIT/Oxbridge degrees, NASA permits, he did them all. With the BCI, his brain became like a youthful sponge. He acquired the curiosity and flexibility of a child, with the wisdom and experience of an old man. He also made a lot of friends, real and virtual, from countless background and cultures, which gave him a lot of perspective. His trying of countless psychedelics and other mind altering drugs also helped him to heal from childhood trauma and expand its consciousness. Religion stopped making sense for him...but he discovered a new form of Spirituality, devoid of dogma and ineffable with mere words. He felt the whole Universe pulsating in his heart and unconditional love for every beings on this planet. He felt he understood everything, that the most mysterious questions of life had obvious answers, even if he could not describe them.
After a few decades, he was a completely different person...or rather, he became his true self.
Eventually, he felt ready to confront the real world. He reached for the surface, only to realize the shimmering dump was now a luxurious rain-forest brimming with life and beautiful species he'd never seen before. He checked his eyes, jerked his limbs, did a few yoga and body weight exercises...everything was working well. His pod stimulated his muscles with bio-electricity, sent vibration through his bones and beamed light into his eyes, to prevent degradation over the years. He also corrected his posture and gained 30 cm. He checked his face in a new river nearby : he looked younger than he was, 50 years ago. His eyes sparkled with intelligence and determination. His body looked more chiselled than god Hanuman's.
He went back to his hometown, only to found more rain-forest. But the shrine where the Brahmin operated was still there. Inside, the statues of the gods had been replaced with ultra-realistic flesh-robots who danced and sang in a perpetuate automated worship to Vishnu. You could interact with them and ask for their blessings. The Brahmin was gone, apparently.
The ASI from the Earth Government tells him that the Brahmin choose to erase his past identity and start a new life, after he got an epiphany from cyber-shrooms. Sociopaths and power-hungry psychos want to blend in society to protect themselves and flatter their ego => BCI allows them to become smarter and wiser which increases their power and abilities => The BCI strengthen their reasoning neural-paths, but also their empathy paths : their increase in IQ is followed by an increase in EQ => their personality changes and they stop being assholes.
So Damith walked the Earth, meeting all the friends he made in the Metaverse, to share great moments in the real world. He found true love, he found true friendship.
After centuries have passed, they decided to build an intergalactic ship to colonize a solar system a few thousands light years away, to seed its hot and cold sterile worlds with Life and Intelligence.
Space travel wasn't dangerous or boring anymore. You could either hibernate or have fun in a virtual worlds for millions of years, safe in your pod. New materials and ultra-powerful magnetic field protected you against space radiation and dangerous objects.
After arrival, nanobots were deployed in the sterile worlds and created perfectly balanced ecosystems suitable for Damith's and his friends' descendants...where they will multiply, prosper, learn and have fun.
Maybe they will encounter Alien civilizations who have reached the same level of technology, one day. If not, they might help them to reach that stage and unleash their potential. But that remains to be seen...

hello everyone, i just came back from theorizing and found this in the script when i was theorizing, i might be stupid but i haven't seen a lot or anyone talk about this , it wasn't like this it was base64, then I coded it to English in a base64 code I will show it to you now
​
​
"*If you found this note in a small wooden box with a heart on it, then *congratulations!* You are probably the first person to read this. I didn’t really plan on sharing this with anybody, but for some reason I think it’s exciting that somebody out there, a complete stranger, will come across this note and read my story. Someone I will never meet, sharing such a personal bond with me. I’m fascinated that either one of us could die - even as soon as tomorrow - with the other being completely clueless to the fact. To you, my entire life is within this note, and so I will live for as long as your memory can carry me. Writing this, I’m wondering if that makes you feel fascinated or violated. It’s so exciting.
​
I’m sorry if my story is a bit disorganized, but I’d like to get it down while it’s still fresh on my mind. First, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. I’m a first-year college girl and have led, by most standards, a pretty unspectacular life up to this point. I grew up in an upper-middle class school district with decent teachers. I did track in middle school and some of high school, and I’ve had two boyfriends. Now, I’m studying for a career in occupational therapy, because I feel the field is undervalued and provides tremendous help to people.
​
I’m giving you this background because there’s this strange misconception that if you want to kill someone then you’re either sick in the head or you have anger management issues. But, it’s very apparent that I don’t fall into either of those categories. It’s true that most murder cases are in a domestic setting where someone loses control of their anger or something. But the thing is that those people kill under provocation, whether by a singular outburst or by a slow-burning series of misfortunes. Those people kill because in that brief moment, they want a specific someone, for a specific reason, to be hurt or killed.
​
What I’m talking about is wanting to kill someone for no specific reason, maybe just to see what it’s like. Do you ever get that? I wouldn’t know how others feel, because it’s not something I ever talked about. But I’ve been curious about what it’s like to kill someone ever since I was a child. Not killing anyone in particular, just a random person. It’s always just fascinated me that if I put my mind to it, I can approach anyone, and in five minutes they would be completely gone from this Earth.
​
But I’ve never done so for a couple of reasons. First of all, for most of my life it was logistically impossible for me to do it without getting caught. I only got my driver’s license a couple years ago, and even then, the preparations would take too much time, definitely stirring suspicion. It was only once I started college that I realized this was no longer an obstacle.
​
Another reason is that I was afraid of causing harm to too many people. You might laugh reading that, at how hypocritical it sounds. But, let me explain: Why should I feel bad about killing someone if they’re too dead to care? Who would I be feeling bad for? Contrarily, it’s the grief of the living that I’d rather not be responsible for. Because of this, I knew it would take a good deal of research before finding a suitable person to kill, and I’ve never had the means to do so - again, until I started college.
​
And now, having just experienced it, I’d say it was pretty satisfying in the end. Something I would try again? Probably not, since my curiosity has already been satisfied. It really wouldn’t be the same a second time.
​
But anyway, if by any chance you’re also curious to kill someone, then you’re welcome to take notes. :)
​
***
​
I started a hobby of people-watching soon after I entered college. People-watching is interesting to me because it’s taking one of the infinite extras in your life and turning them into a main character - without them knowing, of course. It’s so easy to forget that every single one of the hundreds of strangers you pass every day has a life story as deep and complex as your own. One thing I noticed about people-watching, and wanting to kill someone, is that you are in more constant awareness of this. When I find a person to observe, their story slowly becomes more clear to me over time, gaps being filled - it really is amazing.
​
I usually went to grocery stores on weekends and looked around in people’s shopping carts. If I saw something that interested me, I decided to observe the person for a little bit. Of course, since my goal was to find someone to kill, I ruled out anyone who had children or a partner with them. Wedding rings were another tell-tale sign.
​
So maybe once a weekend, I would find someone who fit my criteria, at which point I would follow them home and note their address. From there, it became incredibly easy to investigate a little bit more; most people have normal work hours, meaning I could spend afternoons going through their mail or looking around in their house. I repeated this with several people (and had one close call), but for varying reasons I didn’t really feel satisfied enough with them to kill any of them.
​
I started getting a bit impatient and thought that I might just settle for killing the man named Devon, even though I didn’t really want to kill someone wealthy. But then, I came across someone new - someone who just, felt perfect. The feeling only strengthened as I investigated her further, and I knew that she would be the one for me to kill.
​
A young-looking woman I met at the grocery store, as per usual. She was doing some light shopping with a basket. Her hair was wavy and dark brown, sitting inelegantly on her slumped shoulders and surrounding her tired-looking face. Her bare fingers told me she might be single, but beyond that, my gut was almost certain of it. This woman just seemed so…plain, really. I guess I felt a greater acuity for the personal lives of strangers ever since I started my people-watching. But the way she carried herself, I just got the feeling that if she suddenly died, nobody would be around to miss her. Of course, I still wanted to investigate her a bit.
​
I followed my usual routine of checking out her place during her work hours. I learned immediately from her mail that her name is Linda Watson. Linda lived in a quiet apartment complex, her mailbox easily accessible right outside her door. Instead of quickly shuffling through it, I decided I could take her mail back to my dorm and return it before she was finished with work (she only lived about 15 minutes from me). I did some research and learned how to open and reseal the envelopes without damaging them, which took some technique along with a hair dryer, rubbing alcohol, and Q-tips.
​
This made it easy for me to learn a little more about her. Linda was a 33-year-old woman who worked for a small accounting firm - I’d rather not name the place outright. Her birthday was December 11th which, coincidentally, was approaching in a couple weeks. I also managed to find a bank statement that gave me a nice look into how she’s been spending her past month. It was at this point I realized that my assessment of Linda Watson as an extremely plain woman was pretty spot-on, because there was absolutely nothing interesting on the list. A trip to Old Navy, a bunch of Starbucks, something about $40 from Amazon - no restaurants, no movies, nothing that would really imply she was spending any time socializing. That aside, I also found a cooking magazine, so I guess she was into cooking.
​
Apartments are harder to break into than suburban homes, because there are fewer doors and windows. Every time I got Linda’s mail, I would check the front door and the windows in the back, but they were always locked. This was a bit frustrating because I was really interested in getting into her house. So, I came up with a sort of plan that I thought would be fun, even if it didn’t work.
​
Last Saturday, I visited Linda Watson’s apartment complex as I would on weekdays. The difference is that this time, I wanted her to be home. I thought it would be interesting to have a conversation with her. If I got lucky, I could take advantage of the situation to discreetly unlock a window from the inside. So, I walked up to her door wearing nothing warmer than a light sweatshirt, and knocked. The adrenaline rush was crazy. I was afraid I might screw something up.
​
The door opened, and in front of me stood Linda Watson, exactly as I remembered her from the grocery store. It was at that moment, making eye contact for the first time, that I realized I was running the risk of beginning to care about this person. As selfish as it is, I couldn’t kill a person I cared about, even if it’s a 33-year-old woman standing in a doorway with a slightly perplexed look on her face, giving me a reserved “Hello.”
​
Arms crossed from the cold, I shyly returned Linda’s greeting. I explained that I was walking my dog near the woodsy area behind the back of her apartment, and that he had gotten away. I had been looking for my dog for an hour and was wondering if Linda may have seen him roaming about. Of course, Linda sympathetically apologized for the situation and that she couldn’t be of use to me, but that she would keep an eye out. I wore a defeated expression in response, apologizing in return for troubling her.
​
It somehow went exactly as I had hoped - Linda invited me inside to warm up a bit with some coffee. I outwardly hesitated before accepting her offer, although on the inside I wanted to jump through the door and hug her for cooperating so well. And that’s how Linda Watson ended up with a 19-year-old girl next to her on the couch - who knows if it was just a nice gesture or if she really has no better way to spend her Saturdays than talking to some kid she just met (who happens to be interested in killing her).
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Linda soon learned that my name is Maria (it’s not) and that I attend the nearby community college (I don’t). I was a little bit nervous that she would ask me too many questions because I didn’t have many answers prepared. I was able to steer the conversation toward her, and she was pretty happy to talk. I asked what she does, and she told me that she works for the accounting firm I already knew about, communicating with outside clients and keeping records. I told her I was pretty nervous about growing up. She told me to enjoy college and to make lots of friends because there’s less opportunity once you start working.
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When I asked if she was married or anything, she laughed. Of course I knew she wasn’t married, but I wanted to hear more about her love life. She said that she doesn’t currently have a boyfriend (I guess she’s at least had boyfriends, but who knows how long ago). When I asked her about kids, she said she doesn’t want them until she gets a better job. On top of that, she told me that her family has a history of some genetic diseases such as arthritis and depression, which she is afraid to give to her kids.
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It’s funny that she mentioned that because when I asked to use her bathroom, I noticed a tube of prescription pills on the sink. It was labelled duloxetine, which I looked up later and discovered that it is in fact an antidepressant. I had a joking thought that maybe by killing her I’d be doing her a favor, but quickly decided I was a terrible person for coming up with that.
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The rest of the visit was pretty dull. We talked about food and some other mundane stuff before I eventually made an excuse to leave. I didn’t get the chance to unlock a window or anything like that, but I didn’t really feel the need to go through her apartment anymore. As early as the drive back to my dorm, I was already thinking about how I would best like to kill Linda Watson.
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The choice was between effectiveness and fun. I decided to go with fun, because it would be way more satisfying to kind of dissect her as I killed her, rather than just getting it done and calling it a day. Fast-forward one week to December 13th - today, actually. Linda Watson turned 34 two days ago. I made a fun little wager with myself where if Linda was spending her birthday weekend alone, I would pay her a visit and kill her. If she was out or had company, I would stop by next week or something instead.
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So this morning, I drove over to Lowe’s and bought an axe. Again, I expect you’re laughing, but that’s also kind of the point. An axe is so kind of cliche and a “movies” thing that I actually thought it would be the most fun. Swinging it at someone and everything, it’s a really entertaining image. They actually had a bunch of different axes, so I picked one that had a good weight but was still light enough for me to swing quickly.
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The drive after getting the axe was when the adrenaline really picked up. All that kept going through my mind on the way over was “Wow, I’m really doing this.” Not in a bad way, just like a surprised this is real life sort of thing. I also got this strange rush of recollections of the time I spent with Linda. It was like my life was flashing before my eyes, except it was just the rather mundane hour I spent with Linda - like snippets of our conversations, the sound of her laugh, her facial expressions and stuff.
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I also wondered to myself what the crazy serial killers would be feeling at a time like this - schizophrenic delusions? Sexual buildup? I have no idea, but what I felt was kind of like ridiculously alert and numb in the senses at the same time, however that’s possible.
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Before getting out of the car, I had the sense to stuff the axe into my backpack to look a little less ridiculous walking across the parking lot. The handle was sticking out, but that didn’t really matter. At that point my heart was pounding so hard I could feel my throat throbbing. I tried controlling my breath, but it’s really hard to not breathe fast when your heart is pounding like that.
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I reached Linda Watson’s door and quietly put my ear to it after setting down my backpack. I heard a voice that wasn’t hers - company? No, it was just the TV, mixed with her occasional tapping footsteps behind the door. I actually kept my ear there for a really freaking long time, because I wanted to make absolutely sure nobody was over. Probably 10 minutes of that and a lot of reassuring myself convinced me.
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I quietly opened my backpack zipper and held the axe in my hands. My fiercely shaking hands. What the hell was this kind of reaction that my body was making? I told my body to shut up, that it’s no big deal, but of course it wouldn’t listen. It was actually bizarre how much my hands were shaking. It must be the adrenaline buildup. I rolled my eyes at myself and got my hand to rest on the doorknob. If it’s locked, I’ll knock, it’ll be basically the same. I took a deep breath and forced my muscles into action.
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I swiftly turned the doorknob. Not locked. In one movement, I opened up the door and slipped inside. Linda Watson, just a few steps away into the kitchen. I see - she was in the middle of cooking. She immediately jumped and turned around, startled. I expected that. Quickly, I let go of the doorknob and adjusted the axe into both hands. In the following split second, I realized that she would probably start to make a lot of noise. Looking back, I’m an idiot for not considering that. Just as Linda’s mouth opened to speak - maybe even started speaking - I forcefully swung my axe into the side of her head.
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But, my axe was facing backwards. I hit her with the blunt end of the blade. I actually did this on purpose, because in that split second I somehow decided that it would be the way to keep her noise to a minimum. It actually worked. I felt barely any resistance in the swing as I collided with her head, knocking it clean aside. Linda’s half-formed syllable came out as a kind of weird grunt - a noisy exhalation is probably the best I could describe it. That happened at the same time as her head smacked into the cabinet from the force, and she fell backwards without any ability to keep her balance. I didn’t hesitate at all to keep swinging at her while she was half lying down on the ground, this time my axe facing the right way. I didn’t really know where to swing, so I kind of just started hacking at her collarbone area and chest. It didn’t feel like the axe was going too deep, but there was a nice “thunk” sort of sound every time the axe embedded into her. I even felt the soft sinking sensation ripple into my hands, like the axe was a kind of physical extension of my sense of touch.
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On a whim, I swung once at her throat, but most of the swing actually missed and I hit the floor by accident, causing a loud, dull whack to resonate through the apartment. I didn’t have time to think about it. I swung again with better aim and got a more centered hit, feeling the bone or cartilage or whatever is in there, so I must have split it open. Right after that, I decided to swing at her face, and I got this diagonal cut along her nose and mouth, which felt pretty good so I did it once more.
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I finally briefly stopped to survey the damage. Linda was bleeding ridiculously. The blood was kind of coming out in waves, in sync with her beating heart, probably. It was pooling all around her and riding along the cracks between the tiles. Her light blue shirt was all torn up and stained dark, kind of mixed with a fleshy mess around her chest. It was all just glistening red. Her face wasn’t much better, covered in dripping red at this point, and her lip was kind of hanging off, revealing red-stained teeth in a really weird way, like a zombie or something.
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Linda wasn’t dead, though. Her limbs were kind of weakly, aimlessly trying to move while she was stuck on her back. More than anything, she reminded me of a bug that you crush but it still pitifully moves its legs around before it dies completely. That’s basically what she was doing. But I didn’t know how long it would take for her to die, or what kind of condition she was in. I ended up grabbing a big knife that was on the counter that she was using to cut up meat. Trying to step around the blood, I reached down and carved into the upper half of her neck, trying to sort of saw it from the left side to the right. It was a little awkward because the area was so soft and squished around the knife as I was cutting. But the sensation was completely different from the axe. It actually felt like I was cutting a tough piece of raw meat (which I guess technically, I was).
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The blood started pouring out, and I hoped that I severed the most major arteries in there. It must have worked, because after a moment Linda’s limb movements kind of just had the strength drained from them, soon resting still on the floor. I took a few seconds to catch my breath. No time to stick around and think about the experience. I shook the knife blade through a dirty pan in the sink to clean off the blood, then threw the knife into my backpack. I did the same with the axe. I also took her laptop that was sitting on the counter. It had some recipe open for veal and mushrooms. I didn’t really take the laptop to use it, since I have a perfectly good one myself that I got for college. I just wanted to look through it for fun.
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I finally went outside and closed the door behind me. I got some blood on my sweater and jeans. But funnily enough, I actually anticipated that so I wore dark colors.
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The drive back to my dorm was just a constant replaying of the experience in my head. I guess that’s still kind of happening even now, actually. But it felt pretty nice. Linda Watson is dead. I kind of let the weight of that sink in. The sensation of having completely removed a human life from existence. It’s crazy. I don’t know how else to describe it.
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Anyway, I threw the axe and knife into a dumpster on campus, which I think is picked up every Monday, so they’ll be gone by then. My roommate goes home on the weekends, so I have the dorm to myself today. It gave me the chance to go through Linda’s website history. I was right in thinking that’s where her deepest secrets would lie.
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There was actually a lot of dirty stuff, like the names of websites for porn videos and stories and things like that. Same with her searches. A lot of the websites were boring, like cooking websites and recipes, and game websites like Bejeweled and stuff. I eventually got to the “one week ago” section of her history, and it gave me a chill.
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There were a whole bunch of searches like “methods of suicide”, “how to tie a noose”, “dangerous household chemicals”, “carbon monoxide poisoning” - like a lot of them. She was probably ready to write a book on suicide after all the research she did. So I guess Linda was contemplating suicide. I wonder if it was influenced by her depression.
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The irony is actually striking. Maybe Linda was going to die anyway. Or maybe she couldn’t find the courage to do it. If that were the case, I almost literally gave her a birthday present by killing her. That’s actually really comical in a messed-up way, and it leaves a weird taste in my mouth. The part I don’t get is that I didn’t see any of those searches up until the “one week ago” section, nothing more recent than that.
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I ended up throwing the laptop in the dumpster with the other stuff. It’s been a few hours since then, so I’ve had some time to calmly think about everything. Like I said, it was pretty satisfying and I’m glad I finally got around to it. I feel like I can finally cross it off my bucket list, or like I’m tying loose ends with myself. This is probably the first and last time I’ll write the name Linda Watson - it’s back to living a normal college life, except I might do some people-watching every now and then because it’s definitely fun and interesting.
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But I’ll always wonder how many people there are like me. I’m sure there has to be a lot, because there is just nothing strange about it to me, being curious about killing someone. Sadly, it’s something that people can’t exactly just talk about, so I guess I’ll never know. I’m sure that anyone would just lie about it even if you asked them. But you can’t help but wonder if that person in the grocery store, who stares at you as you pass by, might be considering what it would be like to kill you. If I could, I would tell them all about it, so they could decide for themselves. But who knows, maybe I got lucky, and that person is you. I actually really, really hope so.~♥*"
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this is the quote, is there anything particularly important that I am not seeing, I see some hints but not a lot.
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tl;dr I have a really large text, and it's unknown to me, i haven't figured out what it is, any help?

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A few days back, I received a mail saying I was accepted as recipient of the 2023-2024 Concordia Presidential Scholarship, but because of my recent appendicitis surgery I couldn't share this before. This all feels so surreal to me.... It still feels like a beautiful dream. I cried a lot after getting the mail and.. I'm just feeling so grateful and humbled for everything, as an international student, this means a lot lot lot to me, just humbled beyond anything 😅🤍
If anyone knows about the other Presidential Scholar or the International Scholars, please let me know, I'd love to connect. I'd also love to connect with everyone before the semester starts, so don't hesitate to reach out.
And to everyone who applied, please don't stop believing in yourselves. Everyone of you is so talented and you deserve so so many great things in your life. My infinite great wishes to you guys bcz I know everyone is just AMAZING in their own ways, take love ❤️
FYI: Should I live on-campus or off-campus considering I'll get a living allowance? Which one would be better? Expert opinion needed and thank you a lot in advance.