Hotel and Casino Digital Signage Solutions Scala

Two big developments from sports gambling being legalized: 1. The audiences most affected will be international, young and mobile/social. All ripe markets. 2. It opens up new revenue streams by lifting restrictions for advertising on places such as casinos. Signage, sponsorships.

submitted by ValKilmsnipsinBatman to nfl [link] [comments]

Non Essential Business Still Operating

Not sure if this is something I can post here, but I work in casino signage and our owners are refusing to shut down right now, it looks like they want to continue production. I don't have any details on this, but it seems they want to continue pushing out product to continue cashflow. One of my coworkers has been talked to. He is a salary employee and said they are sending him home and he'll get his paycheck for last week. But he won't get a check for this week. Is there anywhere I can report this business to? This shit is not right. Thanks for reading and any feedback.
submitted by uqueefy to vegaslocals [link] [comments]

F4NV - Content Week 2019 Devlog/Opener

Hey there F4NV fans and supporters, long time no see! Hello, and welcome to a very special devlog!
For the last two years, Team F4NV has set out to develop something absolutely massive - nothing short of completely recreating Fallout: New Vegas from the ground up, while also reworking and re-imagining portions of the game that may have aged poorly or that have since been better handled in new iterations of the game's engine.
Over those two years, countless dozens of people have offered their time, effort, and skills to help contribute to that goal, and now is the time for us to give everybody a clear look at their efforts!
Every year, on the week of October 23rd, we run a week-long showcase of the work done on F4NV - and for the third year in a row, it's time for us to again give everybody a look at some of the incredible efforts that have gone into F4NV.
To kick things off, we thought perhaps now was a good time for another devlog - an update on where F4NV stands, and just what we're working on 'in the now.'
Firstly, lets talk progress on the F4NV worldspace. Over the last two years, we've spent a lot of time creating and refining an approach to level design that meets the goals of F4NV. Fallout 4's combat systems are far more robust than those of New Vegas (especially with the various combat and weapon mechanics from New Vegas added in alongside.) This has meant some significant effort has had to be put into making sure that our worldspace looks good, runs well, and plays well. Experimentation had to be carried out in a number of places - do we make many interior locations into exteriors to cut down on loading screens, or perhaps merge some interiors to achieve the same ends? What impact does adding weather to our world add? How can we take advantage of Fallout 4's new lighting engine to craft something better than the original?
Many of these questions have had different answers as F4NV's development has gone on. New techniques and understanding of some of the engine mechanics have necessitated changes to things we previously considered set in stone, while other things have had to change in response to other changes made along the way.
However, we've finally hit a point where we've refined our plans into something far more concrete, and while we don't often like to give hard numbers on progress on F4NV (they're not particularly useful for a number of reasons,) we feel it's worthwhile to share with our community that over 50% of The Mojave's worldspace is now in a final or near-final state in F4NV. This has taken the efforts for countless fantastic level designers, and we're very excited to be at the point we've reached now. In the coming days and months, we'll be carrying on with these efforts, and further building up our worldspace to reach that 100% mark. It's looking a lot closer than it ever has, and with each new asset created for F4NV, progress only gets faster.
Speaking of assets, that same excitement extends to the work done by our 3d assets team. It's no secret that many of us on Team F4NV like our guns, and it shows - many pieces of content released by our project have been weapons-related in one way or another. But it's worth keeping in mind that Fallout: New Vegas had a downright impressive arsenal. Compared to Fallout 4's ~90 weapons, F4NV will be including nearly 150 weapons from Fallout: New Vegas and its various DLCs. That's why it's so exciting for us to have passed the 50% mark as far as those weapons go. Given the countless hours of effort that go into making a single complete weapon for F4NV - making not just the base weapon, but a selection of upgrades that fit within F4NV's design goals - it's something we're extremely happy to have accomplished. Alongside the the guns, cudgels, and various pointy implements made for F4NV, there are also of course the other various key assets made for F4NV. From the remarkable outfits made for or shared with F4NV (some of which we'll be highlighting this week,) to the incredible buildings and creatures that have been made for the project, the Mojave feels like much more than a collection of leftover bits and pieces of Boston.
This creation of the 'right environment' extends to the efforts of our 2d team as well. Given the varied tasks they contribute to, giving a hard and fast metric on the progress they've made since F4NV began development is a little difficult, but that really speaks to the amount of incredible work they've contributed to the project. From posters to UI elements, retextured vehicles to brand new pieces of artwork out in the world, and from playing cards to casino signage, the work done by our 2d team is some of the most indispensable effort put forward into F4NV. New UI art that takes the static images and artwork from New Vegas and updates it to the animated stylings of Fallout 4 helps to modernize the feel of Fallout: New Vegas without being an obvious change, and work to flesh out the world with new posters and artwork makes the Mojave desert feel like a truly distinct entity within our interpretation of the Fallout universe. During this week we hope to show you just a glimpse into the many pieces of fantastic work they've contributed to F4NV, and show just how much this oft-forgotten part of modern game development can help to elevate the entirety of a work.
So too does the audio design, of course. Our audio team has done incredible work over the last two years. From our early beginnings when we had believed we would be able to use the audio and voice acting from New Vegas, making only small changes to the audioscape of the Mojave, to present-day F4NV's efforts to revoice the entirety of New Vegas while also creating a brand new soundtrack, massive strides have been made. Dozens of voice actors have offered up their skills to the cause, and the effort of our audio design team has been fantastic, turning out new music, recreations of original New Vegas tracks, and interface/technical audio that helps to sell the entire experience. During this week we'll be offering up a small focus on some of their great work, and we can't wait to let it out into the wild for you to enjoy!
Of course, all of this would be for naught without the work of our scripting team. Over the last two years, their work has been nothing short of miraculous. Bringing back Fallout: New Vegas's core systems has been a massive team effort. Skills, weapon jamming and condition, Fallout 3/New Vegas styled dialogue menus - none of this would've been possible if it weren't from the work of our scripting/coding team and the generous contributions of other fantastic mod authors and projects in the Fallout 4 modding community. We hope over the next few days to offer even a small glimpse into the fantastic work our scripting and coding teams have done, and hopefully convey just what this all means for F4NV.
In short - it's time for a little showcase.
Stay tuned throughout the week for more updates, and until next time, stay classy!
submitted by F4NVDevTeam to OfficialF4NV [link] [comments]

4 Benefits of Digital Signage Solutions for Modern Casinos

4 Benefits of Digital Signage Solutions for Modern Casinos submitted by hospitalityupgrade to u/hospitalityupgrade [link] [comments]

"In an effort to further close MA, a mostly closed state, Dr. Jha notes that it has more Covid than the mostly open states of GA, FL, TX This is just an unbelievable tweet"

submitted by SpiderImAlright to NoNewNormal [link] [comments]

Reliable and Intuitive Digital Signage for Casinos (Casino Digital Signage)

Reliable and Intuitive Digital Signage for Casinos (Casino Digital Signage) submitted by chadbogan1 to u/chadbogan1 [link] [comments]

How could downtown Nanaimo be improved?

Hey, I'm a third year graphic design student and our first project for Environmental Design is to redesign downtown Nanaimo (In terms of wayfinding, singage, installations, etc) and I'm looking to find some feedback from people who go to downtown often! What about downtown Nanimo would you like to see improved or changed that would make you want to go there more often? Thank you in advance to anyone who answers :)
submitted by toyAlien to nanaimo [link] [comments]

AMD Radeon Polaris Goes Embedded For Casino Gaming, Digital Signage

AMD Radeon Polaris Goes Embedded For Casino Gaming, Digital Signage submitted by MyRSSbot to MyRssFeeds [link] [comments]

Rise of Hellion ch13 ( Barry Pepper fanart fiction inspiration)

Rise of Hellion ch13 ( Barry Pepper fanart fiction inspiration)

Rise of Hellion ch13 ( Barry Pepper fanart fiction inspiration)

previous: https://www.reddit.com/BarryPeppecomments/koihsy/rise_of_hellion_ch12_barry_pepper_fanart_fiction/
The flight touched down, under the early morning sky. I could practically taste the Cinnabon frosting. It had been over a decade since I’d been on an airplane but I loved hanging around the terminals for the delicious overpriced food.
Baron placed his hand upon my shoulder. “What happens in Jersey stays in Jersey,” he said with a laugh.
“I thought you’d be bitter.” I leaned on his shoulder as we waited for the seatbelt light to turn off.
“You thought I’d be bitter about flying as a passenger instead of a pilot?” Baron shrugged, as he stretched his arms over his head. “I’ve always loved Alaska Airlines. And if I was flying the plane, I wouldn’t have been able to spend time with this little guy.” He tickled little Abby’s chubby arm causing the baby to smile.
“I can’t disagree.” In the weeks following our arrival at Dr. Toki’s DC bunker, Baron grew close to my son. The three of us shared a room; two cots on the floor with a padded plastic box for the baby. Like all babies little Abby cried; for food, diaper changes, or just out of loneliness. Nine out of ten times, I would awaken to find Baron holding my son. Sometimes he’d walk around the small room, other times he would sit cross-legged on his bed, but every night was a different story about Noah. I learned things I knew I was never meant to know about.
In the years they spent traveling the world as renowned criminal masterminds, Noah and Baron had become more than friends. They fell in love.
“You daddy was the greatest person I ever knew,” Baron often said as he rocked my son in his arms. “He was the last person I ever truly loved.”
I listened as Baron, by the light of the moon, told my infant son stories about his many adventures with Noah and Nash. Some boarded on the obscene; drugs, weapons trafficking, and all manner of sex. He never outright said they were lovers, only that they trusted each other with their mind body and soul.
“It tears me up inside knowing he’s gone. I know this is all my fault, his blood is on my hands. We should have died together. Noah died the way he lived; with honor and integrity. But then I never would have met you.”
That was how I knew Baron could be trusted; he loved Abby with every fiber of his soul.
“Yo, Nicki,” Baron said, tapping my arm. “The plane’s empty, time to go.”
“Oh,” I took a quick breath, forcing myself back to reality.
Baron grabbed our one piece of luggage, a plain black backpack with a limited number of supplies. Axel had passed it along to us before going through security, so I had to assume it contained no weapons.
We walked down the corridor to the gate at Atlantic City international airport. “Can I hold the bag?” I asked, since he was already holding the baby.
“Sure.” Baron took off the straps and tossed me the bag. It was lighter than I thought it would be. Inside was a lot of fabric; some rolled, some folded and some pieces were clearly hiding items made of plastic or metal. I figured I shouldn’t be examining its contents right away but with the chill of the airport I wanted to see if there were any extra clothes for my baby.
No, Abby was our baby. Seeing Baron holding the child in his arms, all I could feel was love. “Oh look!” I fished out a blue, baby t-shirt with a happy dolphin. “Let’s put it on him!”
Baron did as I asked, maneuvering Abby’s wiggly little body. With his fresh new shirt, he looked like a cute little tourist baby. In fact, we looked like a typical vacationing couple traveling with their newborn.
I knew that Axel and Dr. Toki were monitoring us from the safety and comfort of an unmarked medevac vehicle somewhere within a six-mile radius. Ideally, they would follow us, observe from a distance. If and when we found Tony, we could get the hell out (to the nearest TAC bunker.) Until then Baron and I were to look for clues along the boardwalk.
“Should we get a hotel room?” I asked.
“Certain military leaders didn’t give us any money, so unless you have a credit card?”
“I could probably pick pocket one.”
“Way to blow our cover,” he said with a laugh. “Nah, we can deal with the issue of housing when we need to. With any luck Axel and Dr. Toki have plans to get us out, so we don’t have to sleep on the streets with a baby.”
We walked a further, to the land of sun, sand and casinos, stopping to rest on a bench. “Let’s see what’s in the bag.” There were more shirts, pants, a few flattened bottles to collect water, or maybe even breastmilk. I placed each of the items neatly on my lap, hoping that I would not miss anything important. However, in the end, the only item of importance was a package of baby wipes. There wasn’t even any diapers. I had to assume, if I needed to change my baby, I was meant to use the extra clothing. (Same for first aid, due to lack of bandages.) “You really don’t have any money?”
“We can always shoplift,” Baron said cheerfully as he tossed the baby in the air.
Abby squealed with joy.
I could feel my heart flutter with joy. “That’s the New Jersey spirit!”
“There has to be a Walgreens around here someplace.”
We easily found a corner store with the iconic red signage. Baron picked up a basket and headed to the food section; packaged drinks, dried cereal, candy, etc.
“What do you think happened to Anya?” I asked, following close. “Since you’re the last person who saw her.”
“She’s going after Axel,” he answered casually.
“And you’re ok with that?”
“It’s her deal, her quest or whatever.”
“Or whatever?” I asked. His tone was really starting to piss me off. Axel was my friend, a human being. But so was Anya. And that was why my soul was being torn in half.
“Anya’s going to do what she has to do but for the sake of all of us she’s going to act alone. That way the blood will be only on her hands.”
I saw his point. If and when the time came, we were under no obligation to choose sides. “How thoughtful.”
“You need any diapers?” Baron asked. He was holding an open package of men’s shaving razors. Grabbing a single replacement head, Baron somehow managed to break the plastic apart without wounding his fingertips.
I assumed he was going to cut open a package. “No, I’m good. He has on a cloth diaper and I have enough supplies to make an extra. But I could use some soap.” I grabbed a package of off brand bar soap with an image of a happy Asian baby. Ideally, I could use this for washing both skin and clothing.
After easily leaving the store with everything we needed, we ran in the direction of the beach, hoping to get lost in the crowds. Suddenly out of nowhere the sky darkened and the clouds swelled with rain. The storm came down hard and fast, transforming from freezing rain, to pin-sized hail. In the distance there seemed to be a homeless encampment. Without any words spoken, we both knew to make a run for it.
The tent city consisted of a series of tarps connecting individual homes. There were a few spots that had people huddled around campfires. Men, women and children sat wrapped in dirty, wet blankets, as they struggled to stay warm. Not wanting to take any of their limited resources we walked until we found a sparse area with just a tarp surrounded by barrels and broken pallets. The space was just enough for Baron and I to sleep side by side, resting the baby on his chest.
“Here,” he said, sliding the backpack in my direction. “You can use the bag as a pillow.”
“Thanks.” Unable to comfortably sleep I found myself staring up at the blue tarp. As my mind started to float away my mouth spewed out the words that I thought I’d never say. “What happened between you and Noah?”
“What do you mean?” Baron asked in a whisper. He knew perfectly well what I meant.
“Feng told me he gave Noah the same opportunities he gave you. Yet somehow you ended up as his right-hand man with full access to his arsenal of weapons guns and even his appointment book.”
Baron swallowed a lump in his throat. “Your point?”
“Why didn’t you convince Noah to come with you?”
Baron went silent. He held the baby close, shivering. “You don’t think I tried?” He blinked tears from his eyes.
If he’d been angry, I would have continued the conversation; I would have wanted to know why he had the right to mourn the father of my child. But Baron wasn’t angry, he was in pain. “I think we should get some sleep.”
“Yeah, totally.”
I knew better then to try to ask for my son back. Abby was an emotional support baby and Baron needed him more. I made myself comfortable on my bed of plastic and leaves, pulling the tarp over my body for warmth. “Good night.”
There was a moment of silence before we were awoken by Abby’s cries. Baron sat up, rocking the small baby, attempting to keep him warm. “I think he’s hungry.”
“Give him here.” I had gotten better at breastfeeding, but with how cold it was I would have preferred to keep as covered as possible. “Can you help me with my tarp-blanket?”
“Sure.” Baron helped cover my body, allowing the baby warmth and privacy.
“Thanks.” I looked at Baron with genuine love in my heart. “Thank you for being my friend.” I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, mixing with the freezing cold rain. “Thank you for everything.”
Baron blinked tears from his own eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You really want to know what happened to Noah?”
“Yeah, I do.” I looked down at Abby, who opened his eyes as he nursed. He had Noah’s courage and strength. “I can still remember that night. Even if it was for just a moment, I felt like I had friends, a real connection. That was never something that came easy for me.” Not that it mattered. It was yet another fleeting moment of happiness in my shit-show of a life.
Baron lowered his shirt, revealing his upper chest. “Feng gave me an augmentation; I have an inorganic core made of some kind of plasma. I used to think it was radioactive but I have reason to believe it was created as a means of unlimited projectiles.”
“And it keeps you warm?” That explained why Abby loved being held by him.
“Well, the power came with a complimentary suit of armor that allowed me to be the perfect little henchman.”
“You mean body guard?”
Baron shrugged. “I assumed that was Feng’s original plan.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, mentally preparing for the worst. “And Noah?”
“He wasn’t down for it. The only reason he surrendered to Kitsune was to allow you and Anya time to flee.”
“Oh.” I felt like my heart stopped. I should have realized it from the beginning; that was the only reason we were allowed to live, because Noah truly loved me.
“We were turned over to Feng. I could only assume she thought Feng had the ability to extract Noah’s mind; his intellect, his secrets. But he didn’t. Feng needed Noah to volunteer information.” Baron paused, blinking tears from his eyes. “That was the difference between us. My most valuable asset was my combat ability, maybe my strategy skills. All I had to do was pledge my loyalty, and wear the armor, to gain Feng’s trust. For Noah, that was asking too much. His mind contained secrets that could change the world; info that could never and would never fall in to the hands of tyrannical psychopaths.”
“And that’s why he had to die.” Since I was finished breastfeeding, I handed the now happy, content infant back to Baron.
“Although if it was up to Feng (and it was) well, you’ve seen his set up.”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “I’m going to see that until the day I die.”
“All of his prized victims are kept alive, conscious as their forced to exist as hood ornaments. Feng wanted them to suffer for all eternity, or until their brains turn to pea soup.”
“Now I have a craving for split pea soup.” We laughed through our tears. In truth, I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Noah’s remains.
“You hungry?” Baron dug in his pocket, producing a smashed-up Snicker’s bar.
“We can split it.” With food in our stomachs, we fell asleep to the sound of calming rain. For the first time since he’d been born, I had a vision of my son as a full-grown man.
The sound of rain grew louder, gradually transforming to gunfire. I awoke in what appeared to be a WW2 battle scene. Thankfully I was transparent; bullets passed through me like a virtual reality game, and the area around me felt comfortably warm despite the fact I was standing in snow. In the distance I could see a man leaning on a tree.
Eyes closed, he held a cross in his hand. I watched as he kissed the rosary pendent and said a simple prayer. “Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teaches my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.”
As I came closer, I could see he was gripping his shoulder while doubled over in pain. That raised the question: why was he reciting the prayer of a sharpshooter?
He moved his hand to his waist, slowly retrieving a pistol. “My goodness and my fortress.” He held the gun under his chin, cocking the barrel to his throat. “My high tower and my deliverer. My shield, and he in whom I trust.”
“No!” The sound came from behind me.
I turned to see a figure wearing pink-purple armor. It was in the same style as what Baron wore. And he or she wasn’t running, they were flying.
“Abby!” A female voice cried.
I followed as fast as I could, as she rushed to the man’s side.
“Lieutenant?” The man muttered, coughing up blood.
I now had a good view of his face. It was my son and he was dying. Before I could reach out my hand, the armored woman flew through me.
She fell to her knees, ripping off her helmet to reveal a young Hispanic face framed by lots of curly black hair. “Abby, Sir, I’m here. It’s going to be ok.” She pursed her lips, smiling at him, through visible tears.
Abaddon lowered his weapon. “You need to flee.” With trembling fingers, he lifted his free hand to cup her face. It was obvious that leaving was the last thing he wanted. “This is a battle we cannot win.”
“Not alone, Sir,” the soldier replied with confidence.
Why was she calling him Sir? I could barely make out a patch on his arm. It was possible he was an officer.
The young woman lifted his arm, adjusting him over her shoulder. “I’m not leaving you behind. The nearest medic station is about six kilometers south of here. We can make it.” Before he could reply, she lifted his broken body in her arms, flying off into the night.
The world started to spin as the scene changed.
We were now in a poorly lit underground hospital. I could tell it was underground since every few seconds the room shook with the sound of gunfire and other (louder, more violent) explosions. Abby was laying on a cot with his bare chest exposed. He had several fresh bullet wounds, as well as deep scars.
The woman was by his side, having taken off her armor she rested her head by his shoulder, holding his hand. “Why do you call me by my rank?”
“What should I call you?”
“My name is Sundra, but my friends call me Sunny.”
“Is that because you sparkle like sunshine?” he asked with a subtle smile. Abby moved his free hand to her cheek, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to stay, Sunny.”
“I want to stay. Call it my street gang code of honor; a little something, I picked up from my grandma.” She turned her wrist to reveal a tattoo. It was a stylized diamond with the words, ‘Lucy in the sky.’ Sunny started to softly hum the melody of the famous rock song. “Lucy in the sky with diamonds. Sorry, the title is the only part I know.” She kissed Abby on the forehead. “My papa’s name was Denny. He was the first of my family line born in America. You really remind me of him.”
A gang member named Lucy with a son named Denny? That couldn’t be a coincidence. I moved closer, to get a better look at her face.
She kissed Abby down his nose to his lips.
There were tears in his eyes. “I’ll never forget you.”
Sunny turned, briefly glancing in my direction. “Do you think she’s here, in the room?”
“I know she is,” Abby replied, looking up at the ceiling. “Even as a child, I could always feel my mother’s spirit watching over me.”
“Can she hear us?” Sunny asked, still looking in my path but not actually at me.
“If the calculations and the technology are correct.”
“Do you think she can save us?” Her large, emotional eyes, blinked back tears. With every blink she started to disappear, vanishing from reality like a spirit lost to time. When Sunny was completely gone, all that was left was my adult son. His arms were wrapped around the empty space.
All around me I could hear sobbing. I assumed this meant I was going to wake up. My baby son was probably crying for food or maybe because of the cold: but I was going to wake up. Right? I wanted so badly to wake up. Wake up! Wake up!
I felt a sharp pain. I awoke with a jolt under the tarp, to the collapsing of our little shelter. Touching my hip, I felt blood and splinters. All around me all I could see was tarp. I wanted to scream. Where was my son? Where was Baron?
I needed to calm down; breathe, just breathe. I opened my hands, placing them palms down as if I was going to attempt a snow angel. There was a secret, a lock. There had to be. I felt a strange crack in the pavement. Digging my fingertips in, the piece seemed to transform into a handle (or a lever.) Even if it was just a hand hold, it would be my ticket out of the tarp since I could use it to keep myself grounded in place (as opposed to flopping around like a dying fish.) Turns out, it was a handle. I found myself falling down a slide. At the bottom I finally managed to get free of the tarp.
Baron was sitting in a dark corner with a finger to his lips. “Shh, follow me. This is a mezzanine level.” He motioned towards what looked like a second series of tunnels. “I’m not sure how deep it goes. We’re not going to slide: we’re going to crawl. I’ll go first and you follow close. Do not lose sight of me. Understand?”
“Are you holding the baby?”
Baron nodded. “If shit goes bad, I want you to find my body. I’ll protect him with everything I have.”
I knew what he meant, and trusted him fully, but I was still afraid. “You’re a better fighter than me.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m going to hold the baby.”
“Ok.”
Baron and I snuck down the tunnels, we emerged in an underground factory facility. “What is this place?”
“Trash processing facility,” Baron replied. “You head left I’ll head right.”
“Sure, I guess.” I went left until I saw what appeared to be a light source.
I passed between several cargo boxes, emerging in an open area. There was a series of large vats, bubbling with hot oil or (more likely) acid. “Acid?” I had never seen acid before but the scene looked like something out of a comic book.
“It is acid,” said a voice from a nearby balcony. “the typical use is to process heavy metals and other non-recyclable materials.”
“Faust?” I couldn’t actually see his location.
“Today we’re disposing of inorganic material of a different kind.” He hit a button causing a limp body to start to descend. It was clearly Tony, but I couldn’t tell if he was even alive. “Are you willing to make a deal; trade his life for the contents of the battery?”
“I don’t even know if the copy I have is real.” And there was also the fact that the infamous flash drive was in a van, in the care of Axel and Dr. Toki.
“The one that Baron put on the dark web? Trust me it’s the real deal.”
“So, what’s on it?” I blurted out the words, although I wasn’t expecting any kind of logical answer.
The man snickered. “Does it matter?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Look, do you want to know my entire evil plan or will you be a good girl and save your beloved boyfriend’s life?”
I looked over at Tony. I had no way of helping him. If he was still alive, he was more then capable of saving himself. I had to believe that. “Is it time travel?”
“What?” Faust asked with a laugh. “Seriously, what did you just say?” With a flash of light, Faust teleported, placing himself in front of me. He stood tall, in a tailored suit, staring me down with his creepy metallic eyes. “Answer me, little girl.”
Why did he look so much like the adult version of my son? Because he was a shape shifter? Or was there something else? “Time travel?”
The once stern man cracked a smile. “Time travel is the stuff of movies and fairytales. The contents of the battery will bring this world to its knees.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I blinked my eyes as the pieces fell into place. There was a reason why my son had been able to communicate with me so clearly through dreams. “Selective telepathic time travel.”
Faust was no longer smiling. “Would you prefer that power fall to the hands of Kitsune? She and her brother, they’d use it to cause a gang war; an apocalypse of weapons and drugs. You wouldn’t want that blood on your hands.”
We he seriously trying to appeal to my humanity? “What about you? What’s your plan, to go back in time to give Hitler a migraine?” I knew what his plan was. Or at least I think I did. There was something about Lucy or maybe Denny. What I knew for certain was that the final goal was Sunny; her existence held the key.
“You’re not alone, are you? Such a pity.” Faust teleported off, in a blast of blue light.
I already knew where he was going and there was nothing I could do. Faust landed on top of Baron as he attempted to free Tony’s body. Both men were knocked in to the acid. There was no sound; no screams, or even cries.
Where was my baby?
Faust teleported in front of me, holding my son in his arms. “You might not have been willing to save your boyfriend, but perhaps you will be willing to trade for your child.”
My back hurt, my arms hurt and my head was pounding, but I ran straight at him, charging like a football player going in for a tackle.
I was blinded by a familiar blue light. We had teleported, but to where? I could hear Abby crying. He was alive and that’s all that mattered. I blinked my eyes once then twice.
“Fire?”
submitted by dourdan to BarryPepper [link] [comments]

Command Center - Home Lab - DIY Hub - Workbench - My Home!

Hi all! So... I posted my home lab a few days ago.. I am new to homelab and new to reddit in general. I apologize that I did not give any specs or purpose with that first post. I will attempt a new post with more recent pics and details. Please let me know if you have any questions.
My lab is mostly used for non-production network test environment, CUCM testing, voice, video, VM hosting (RSA authentication manager, DNS server, Domain controller, Plex Server (LOL). Configs are constantly changing.
FYI about me:
I am a Network Engineer II in the Kansas City area. I have a CCNP in Routing & Switching, a CCNP in Enterprise, a CCNA in Security, and a CCDP. My scope of work pushes past networking though. I also work with RSA, Palo Alto, AWS, Azure, Megaport , Infoblox and CUCM. I would be happy to help anyone out if they have configuration questions or need advice with setting up a home lab.
P.S. - I have the best wife.. She let me take over the basement of our house to build my dream office!

45 U Rack - Hardware/Purpose Listed Top to Bottom
Cisco 2921 - Practice redistributing OSPF into eBGP, EIGRP into OSPF, voice module connected to CUCM
Patch Panel, cable management (I know... needs some work, but I move things so frequently that it is hard for it to be worth it)
Cisco 3850 48 UPOE - details in next photo
Cisco 3850 XS 10G SFP+ - details in next photo
Cisco 9300 48 UPOE - details in next photo
HP StorageWorks d2700 6Gb SAS enclosure - directly attached to DL360p via SAS cable/controller
HPe DL360p Gen8 - several virtual machines which host: Cisco UCM, PfSense, Docker, Plex, TFTP server, FTP Server, DNS/Domain controller via Windows Server 2019
Dell r710 - currently has one VM via esxi 6.7 running Windows Server 2016. Not currently doing much other than hosting some FTP files. Any suggestions??
HPe KVM display
(3) EMC RecoverPoint Gen 5 servers - Using one as a backup and recovery server for my servers, desktop and laptops. Second one is going to be modified into my 13 year-old son's first server. The third I need to aquire some HDDs to get it operational again.
Tripp Lite KVM display (my son will most likely get this one when his rack is ready)
Citrix Netscalers - practicing XenDesktop deployments for practice/fun
Cisco Cat 4510R+E (this will be deployed in a closet in a couple weeks once the supervisors are configured and construction is finished - work from home situation)

Cisco Cat Switches
Cisco 3850 48 UPOE (C3850-NM-4-10G Module)
Cisco 3850 XS 10G SFP+ (C3850-NM-4-10G Module)
Cisco 9300 48 UPOE (C9300-NM-8X Module)
Currently using to practice redistribution of EIGRP into OSPF, using cloud-based F5 deployment to load balance DL360pG8 server, restricted port security, single-mode fiber uplink run to neighbors house (approx. 80 meters)

Desk Setup
Desk Setup
Monitors (Counter-clockwise starting with the top): LG 32UN650-W (32" 4K) - Samsung C43J890 43.4" 4K - Dell UltraSharp U2415 24" WUXGA
Cisco Cat 3560-CX - I use this for quick connections for devices I am working on my workbench/desk area
Elgato Stream Deck - I do not use this for any sort of media creation/streaming. This thing is awesome to program scripts/automation, run commands, lock your system, control panel short cuts, etc. Highly recommend!
Sliding keyboard/mouse tray. Saves space when pushed under the desk, also puts me back far enough away from the monitors for a good viewing angle.
Organization tubs with labels, power tools, esd bags, fishing tape, batteries, rack screws, etc
UniFi Security Gateway Pro, Opengear Console Manager 7100, Cisco VG310, Mellanox IS5022
CIVS-IPC-2830 - super fun to play with! I have a USB joystick to make it move \"Casino Security\" style!
HPe KVM display
Tripp Lite KVM display
Meraki ceiling-mounted lab. MX68CW, MR33, MS120-8, MikroTik, Pelco Sarix IP Camera, Samsung SSD magnetic signage on HVAC duct
Bench PSU, soldering station, 3D printer supplies
Nuts & Bolts organization. Metric on the left, SAE on the right.
ESD mat for small parts, soldering etc. Highly flexible LED lamp helps a lot with projects.
IFIXIT Manta drivebit set. Kinda pricey but it has been by far the best set I have come across. Also highly recommend!
Equipment Storage
Home Lab Video Walkthrough

submitted by bberry407 to homelab [link] [comments]

Target on the Las Vegas Strip just light their sign last night and its awesome.

Target on the Las Vegas Strip just light their sign last night and its awesome. submitted by SBR_AK_is_best_AK to Target [link] [comments]

Information on the Artist, (as Barry Cooper).

Information on the Artist, (as Barry Cooper).
BARRY COOPER10 May 1941
From a very early age I can remember loving the experience of being totally absorbed in art, at the age of six I used to spend hours drawing and copying from comic books and by the time I reached matric, I was achieving between 80% and 90% for Art. My teacher recommended that I follow art in some form.
In the early 1960’s I attended the, (then known as), Wits Technical Art College and completed a 3 year Commercial Art course. One of my tutor’s at the time, was the well-known international artist George Boyes. After college I did window dressing and display work for a few years. Back then the social climate was somewhat different to what it is today. My brothers and I were allowed to pursue our own interests after school, but ultimately we were expected to return to the family business in engineering once we had made the decision to settle down, which we ultimately did. Nevertheless, I continued to paint whenever I could find a spare moment. I sold a few, adorned our home with some, and gave others to friends and family. I left the engineering firm after 25 years.
My son owns a specialist signage company where he services mainly the entertainment and casino industries. I worked for him for five years in the studio, mainly in the conceptualisation and design of each highly specialised creation. After visiting Namibia in January 2008, my love of wildlife and oils returned and I began painting again, I have since retired and after all these many, many years, I am finally living my dream of pursuing art full-time.
I specialise in oils and although I began my art career focusing exclusively on African wildlife, my scope has increased to accommodate some sea-life, nature and rustic cars, among others.
I am a widower, my wife of 46 years passed away in 2009. I have two children and six grandchildren.
https://preview.redd.it/33hxlmjzuiu51.jpg?width=180&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=567408dbd218f21c9642b5d5a8d2c18ec806fc99
submitted by Liphaem5 to SouthAfricanArt [link] [comments]

City Council to Vote on Mask Mandate on Tuesday

Since people want to take Perkins to task over this commonsense measure, Shreveport City Council is going to vote on an emergency ordinance requiring masks. The measure, if passed, would take effect immediately. The proposed rules in the legislation reads:
****************************
Section 1:
In response to the World Health Organization’s March 11, 2020 designation of the COVID-19 outbreak as a worldwide pandemic, and because infected persons can transmit the COVID-19 virus others before showing symptoms, all individuals within the City of Shreveport must wear personal protective masks or facial coverings over the nose and mouth while inside commercial buildings, public buildings, and places of worship.
Within the City of Shreveport, personal protective masks or facial coverings must cover your nose and mouth in the following situations:
a) In all commercial buildings, public buildings, and places of worship.
b) When indoors and in common areas, such as but not limited to, restrooms,hallways, stairways, elevators, or any room or enclosed area where other people (except for members of the person’s own household or residence) are present in commercial buildings, public buildings, and places of worship. This shall not apply to private households or residences.
Section 2:
Within the City of Shreveport, personal protective masks or facial coverings must cover your nose and mouth in the following situations:
a) In all commercial buildings, public buildings, and places of worship.
b) When indoors and in common areas, such as but not limited to, restrooms,hallways, stairways, elevators, or any room or enclosed area where other people (except for members of the person’s own household or residence) are present in commercial buildings, public buildings, and places of worship. This shall not apply to private households or residences.
c) While riding public transportation, paratransit, or rideshare.
Section 3:
The following individuals are exempt from wearing a face mask/covering:
a) Persons younger than two (2) years old.
b) Persons with a medical condition, mental health condition, or disabilitythat prevents them from wearing a personal protective mask or face covering. This includes persons with a medical condition for whom wearing a face covering could obstruct breathing or who are unconscious, incapacitated, or otherwise unable to remove a mask or face covering without assistance.
c) Persons who are hearing impaired, or communicating with a person who is hearing impaired, where the ability to see the mouth is essential for communication.
d) Persons for whom wearing a facial covering conflicts with their religious beliefs or practices.
e) Persons for whom wearing a personal protective mask or face covering would create a risk to the person related to their work, as determined by local, state, or federal regulators or workplace safety guidelines.
f) Persons who are obtaining a service involving the nose or face for which temporary removal of the mask or face covering is necessary to perform the service.
g) Personal protective masks or face coverings must be worn upon entering and exiting restaurants, bars, or other establishments that offer food or beverage service. However, persons are exempt who are seated at a restaurant, bar, or other establishment that offers food or beverage service, while they are eating or drinking, provided they are able to maintain a distance of at least six (6) feet away from persons who are not members of the same household or residence.
h) Personal protective masks and covering must be worn upon entering and exiting gyms or other fitness or recreational facilities. However, persons are exempt while working out at a gym or other fitness or recreational facility provided they are able to maintain a distance of at least six (6) feet away from persons who are not members of the same household or residence.
i) Personal protective masks or face coverings must be worn upon entering, exiting, and remaining in places of worship. However, persons are exempt who are speaking to or addressing the group/congregation or singing in a choir, provided they are able to maintain a distance of at least six (6) feet away from persons who are not members of the same household or residence.
Nothing within this Emergency Ordinance shall prohibit the temporary removal of the mask or face covering for the purpose of any necessary assessment, recognition, or identification during the course of a legal government, or medical service.
Section 4:
Businesses must require all customers, clients, and visitors to wear personal protective masks or face coverings over the nose and mouth, while indoors, and conspicuously post signage at or near all entrances clearly indicating requirements and prohibitions. To the extent feasible, businesses are encouraged to have unused face coverings in stock to provide to customers, clients, and visitors attempting to enter but do not have a face covering.
Section 5:
Throughout the duration of this Emergency Ordinance, restaurants, bars, or other establishments that offer food or beverage service, nightclubs, gyms and fitness clubs, barber shops and salons, casinos, shopping malls, movie theatres, places of worship, and all other businesses operating, must strictly adhere to the all orders of the Governor of Louisiana.
Section 6:
For elections, all persons should follow the guidelines established by the Secretary of State.
Section 7:
Schools, daycares, and summer camps are to follow the guidance established by the Louisiana Department of Education (LDOE) and Louisiana Department of Health (LDH).
https://www.shreveportla.gov/AgendaCenteViewFile/Item/23533?fileID=48109
submitted by chrisplyon to shreveport [link] [comments]

What are the best industries for digital signage?

Using digital signage, you can easily display your company’s specials, products, corporate communications, information, and news in 1080P HD up to 4K resolution. With digital signage, you can remotely change the messages as needed and even schedule your digital signage content to display on the screens on specific days, set recurring schedules, expiration dates and more.
From sharing general workplace information to setting up an advertising network, digital signage can be used to communicate your messages visually.
Popular applications in which digital signage can be used include:
submitted by new_question to digital_signage_news [link] [comments]

Southwest Ring Road by the Casino

Is anyone else hitting 2-3 inch bumps or sudden 2-3inch dropoffs in certain areas?
I was just on southbound 37th street making a left to go onto eastbound glenmore trail and right when you go over the bridge theres a huge dropoff in the road maybe 2-3 inches or more and then you have to go over a big bump right after that. It isn't like there's a ramp or anything just a sharp bump.
Called 311 and it's being done by KGL.
Callled KGL and they said they would put up better signs to warn you.
But the sudden change in that area is brutal. Constant lane changes from day to day and not enough signage put up.
Just pissed because you hit that bump at a fairly high speed.
There was another one heading eastbound past Discovery that I hit less than a week ago.
Just venting and warning some people.
Edit: I should say it's the construction being done on glenmore and 37th by grey eagle casino. Not sure if it's the actual ring road or just another big project. But not acceptable.
submitted by DanD1212 to Calgary [link] [comments]

Angélica Gorodischer - Three Stories [Translated by Lorraine Elena Roses and Marian Womack]

The Resurrection of the Flesh [Tr by Roses]

These first two tales published in Secret Weavers: Stories of the Fantastic by Women Writers of Argentina and Chile, edited by Marjorie Agosin (White Pine Press, 1992):
She was thirty-two, her name was Aurelia, and she had been married eleven years. One Saturday afternoon, she looked through the kitchen window at the garden and saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. Men of the world, those four horsemen of the Apocalypse. And good-looking. The first from the left was riding a sorrel horse with a dark mane. He was wearing white breeches, black boots, a crimson jacket, and a yellow fez with black pompoms. The second one had a sleeveless tunic overlaid with gold and violet and was barefoot. He was riding on the back of a plump dolphin. The third one had a respectable, black beard, trimmed at right angles. He had donned a gray Prince of Wales suit, white shirt, blue tie and carried a black leather portfolio. He was seated on a folding chair belted to the back of white-haired dromedary. The fourth one made Aurelia smile and realize that they were smiling at her. He was riding a black and gold Harley-Davidson 1200 and was wearing a white helmet and dark goggles and had long, straight, blond hair flying in the wind behind him. The four were riding in the garden without moving from the spot. They rode and smiled at her and she watched them through the kitchen window.
In that manner, she finished washing the two teacups, took off her apron, arranged her hair and went to the living room.
"I saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse in the garden," she told her husband.
"I'll bet," he said without raising his eyes from his paper.
"What are you reading?" Aurelia asked.
"Hmmm?"
"I said they were given a crown and a sword and a balance and power."
"Oh, right," said her husband.
And after that a week went by as all weeks do--very slowly at first and very quickly toward the end--and on Sunday morning, while she made the coffee, she again saw the four horsemen of the Apocalypse in the garden, but when she went back to the bedroom she didn't say anything to her husband.
The third time she saw them, one Wednesday, alone, in the afternoon, she stood looking at them for a half hour and finally, since she had always wanted to fly in a yellow and red dirigible; and since she had dreamed about being an opera singer, an emperor's lover, a co-pilot to Icarus; since she would have liked to scale black cliffs, laugh at cannibals, traverse the jungles on elephants with purple trappings, seize with her hands the diamonds that lay hidden in mines, preside in the nude over a parade of nocturnal monsters, live under water, domesticate spiders, torture the powerful of the earth, rob trains in the tunnels of the Alps, set palaces on fire, lie in the dark with beggars, climb on the bridges of all the ships in the world; finally--since it was sadly sterile to be a rational and healthy adult--finally, that Wednesday afternoon alone, she put on the long dress she had worn at the last New Year's party given by the company where her husband was assistant sales manager and went out to the garden. The four horsemen of the Apocalypse called her, the blond one on the Harley-Davidson gave her his hand and helped her up onto the seat behind him, and there they went, all five, raging into the storm and singing.
Two days later her husband gave in to family pressure and reported the disappearance of his wife.
"Moral: madness is a flower aflame," said the narrator. Or in other words, it's impossible to inflame the dead, cold, viscous, useless, and sinful ashes of common sense.

The Perfect Married Woman

If you meet her on the street, cross quickly to the other side and quicken your pace. She’s a dangerous lady. She’s about forty or forty-five, has one married daughter and a son working in San Nicolas; her husband’s a sheet-metal worker. She rises very early, sweeps the sidewalk, sees her husband off, cleans, does the wash, shops, cooks. After lunch she watches television, sews or knits, irons twice a week, and at night goes to bed late. On Saturdays she does a general cleaning and washes windows and waxes the floors. On Sunday mornings she washes the clothes her son brings home—his name is Nestor Eduardo—she kneads dough for noodles or ravioli, and in the afternoon either her sister-inlaw comes to visit or she goes to her daughter’s house. It’s been a long time since she’s been to the movies, but she reads TV Guide and the police report in the newspaper. Her eyes are dark and her hands are rough and her hair is starting to go gray. She catches cold frequently and keeps a photo album in a dresser drawer along with a black crepe dress with lace collar and cuffs.
Her mother never hit her. But when she was six, she got a spanking for coloring on a door, and she had to wash it off with a wet rag. While she was doing it, she thought about doors, all doors, and decided that they were very dumb because they always led to the same places. And the one she was cleaning was definitely the dumbest of all, the one that led to her parents’ bedroom. She opened the door and then it didn’t go to her parents’ bedroom but to the Gobi desert. She wasn’t surprised that she knew it was the Gobi desert even though they hadn’t even taught her in school where Mongolia was and neither she nor her mother nor her grandmother had ever heard of Nan Shan or Khangai Nuru.
She stepped through the door, bent over to scratch the yellowish grit and saw that there was no one, nothing, and the hot wind tousled her hair, so she went back through the open door, closed it and kept on cleaning. And when she finished, her mother grumbled a little more and told her to wash the rag and take the broom to sweep up that sand and clean her shoes. That day she modified her hasty judgment about doors, though not completely, at least not until she understood what was going on.
What had been going on all her life and up until today was that from time to time doors behaved satisfactorily, though in general they were still acting dumb and leading to dining rooms, kitchens, laundry rooms, bedrooms and offices even in the best of circumstances. But two months after the desert, for example, the door that every day led to the bath opened onto the workshop of a bearded man dressed in a long uniform, pointed shoes, and a cap that tilted on one side of his head. The old man’s back was turned as he took something out of a highboy with many small drawers behind a very strange, large wooden machine with a giant steering wheel and screw, in the midst of cold air and an acrid smell. When he turned around and saw her he began to shout at her in a language she didn’t understand.
She stuck out her tongue, dashed out the door, closed it, opened it again, went into the bathroom and washed her hands for lunch.
Again, after lunch, many years later, she opened the door of her room and walked into a battlefield. She dipped her hands in the blood of the wounded and dead and pulled from the neck of a cadaver a crucifix that she wore for a long time under high-necked blouses or dresses without plunging necklines. She now keeps it in a tin box underneath the nightgowns with a brooch, a pair of earrings and a broken wristwatch that used to belong to her mother-in-law. In the same way, involuntarily and by chance, she visited three monasteries, seven libraries, and the highest mountains in the world, and who knows how many theaters, cathedrals, jungles, refrigeration plants, dens of vice, universities, brothels, forests, stores, submarines, hotels, trenches, islands, factories, palaces, hovels, towers and hell.
She’s lost count and doesn’t care; any door could lead anywhere and that has the same value as the thickness of the ravioli dough, her mother’s death, and the life crises that she sees on TV and reads about in TV Guide.
Not long ago she took her daughter to the doctor, and seeing the closed door of a bathroom in the clinic, she smiled. She wasn’t sure because she can never be sure, but she got up and went to the bathroom. However, it was a bathroom; at least there was a nude man in a bathtub full of water. It was all very large, with a high ceiling, marble floor and decorations hanging from the closed windows. The man seemed to be asleep in his white bathtub, short but deep, and she saw a razor on a wrought iron table with feet decorated with iron flowers and leaves and ending in lion’s paws, a razor, a mirror, a curling iron, towels, a box of talcum powder and an earthen bowl with water. She approached on tiptoe, retrieved the razor, tiptoed over to the sleeping man in the tub and beheaded him. She threw the razor on the floor and rinsed her hands in the lukewarm bathtub water. She turned around when she reached the clinic corridor and spied a girl going into the bathroom through the other door. Her daughter looked at her.
“That was quick.”
“The toilet was broken,” she answered.
A few days afterward, she beheaded another man in a blue tent at night. That man and a woman were sleeping mostly uncovered by the blankets of a low, king-size bed, and the wind beat around the tent and slanted the flames of the oil lamps. Beyond it there would be another camp, soldiers, animals, sweat, manure, orders and weapons. But inside there was a sword by the leather and metal uniforms, and with it she cut off the head of the bearded man. The woman stirred and opened her eyes as she went out the door on her way back to the patio that she had been mopping.
On Monday and Thursday afternoons, when she irons shirt collars, she thinks of the slit necks and the blood, and she waits. If it’s summer she goes out to sweep a little after putting away the clothing and until her husband arrives. If it’s windy she sits in the kitchen and knits. But she doesn’t always find sleeping men or staring cadavers. One rainy morning, when she was twenty, she was at a prison, and she made fun of the chained prisoners; one night when the kids were kids and were all living at home, she saw in a square a disheveled woman looking at a gun but not daring to take it out of her open purse. She walked up to her, put the gun in the woman’s hand and stayed there until a car parked at the corner, until the woman saw a man in gray get out and look for his keys in his pocket, until the woman aimed and fired. And another night while she was doing her sixth grade geography homework, she went to look for crayons in her room and stood next to a man who was crying on a balcony. The balcony was so high, so far above the street, that she had an urge to push him to hear the thud down below, but she remembered the orographic map of South America and was about to leave. Anyhow, since the man hadn’t seen her, she did push him and saw him disappear and ran to color in the map so she didn’t hear the thud, only the scream. And in an empty theater, she made a fire underneath the velvet curtain; in a riot she opened the cover to a basement hatchway; in a house, sitting on top of a desk, she shredded a two-thousand-page manuscript; in a clearing of a forest she buried the weapons of the sleeping men; in a river she opened the floodgates of a dike.
Her daughter’s name is Laura Inés, her son has a fiancée in San Nicolás and he’s promised to bring her over on Sunday so she and her husband can meet her. She has to remind herself to ask her sister-in-law for the recipe for orange cake, and Friday on TV is the first episode of a new soap opera. Again, she runs the iron over the front of the shirt and remembers the other side of the doors that are always carefully closed in her house, that other side where the things that happen are much less abominable than the ones we experience on this side, as you can easily understand.

The Unmistakable Smell of Wood Violets [Tr by Womack]

Translated for the first time in Ann and Jeff Vandermeer's Big Book of Science Fiction (Vintage, 2016):
The news spread fast. It would be correct to say that the news moved like a flaming trail of gunpowder, if it weren't for the fact that at this point in our civilization gunpowder was archaeology, ashes in time, the stuff of legend, nothingness. However, it was because of the magic of our new civilization that the news was known all over the world, practically instantaneously.
"Oooh!" the tsarina said.
You have to take into account that Her Gracious and Most Illustrious Virgin Majesty Ekaterina V, Empress of Holy Russia, had been carefully educated in the proper decorum befitting the throne, which meant that she would never have even raised an eyebrow or curved the corner of her lip, far less would she have made an interjection of that rude and vulgar kind. But not only did she say "Oooh!," she also got up and walked through the room until she reached the glass doors of the great balcony. She stopped there. Down below, covered by snow, Saint Leninburg was indifferent and unchanged, the city's eyes squinting under the weight of winter. At the palace, ministers and advisers were excited, on edge.
"And where is this place?" the tsarina asked.
And that is what happened in Russia, which is such a distant and atypical country. In the central states of the continent, there was real commotion. In Bolivia, in Paraguay, in Madagascar, in all the great powers, and in the countries that aspired to be great powers, such as High Peru, Iceland, or Morocco, hasty conversations took place at the highest possible level with knitted brows and hired experts. The strongest currencies became unstable: the guarani rose, the Bolivian peso went down half a point, the crown was discreetly removed from the exchange rates for two long hours, long queues formed in front of the exchanges in front of all the great capitals of the world. President Morillo spoke from the Oruro Palace and used the opportunity to make a concealed warning (some would call it a threat) to the two Peruvian republics and the Minas Gerais secessionist area. Morillo had handed over the presidency of Minas to his nephew, Pepe Morillo, who had proved to be a wet blanket whom everybody could manipulate, and now Morillo bitterly regretted his decision. Morocco and Iceland did little more than give their diplomats a gentle nudge in the ribs, anything to shake them into action, as they imagined them all to be sipping grenadine and mango juice in the deep south while servants in shiny black uniforms stood over them with fans.
The picturesque note came from the Independent States of North America. It could not have been otherwise. Nobody knew that all the states were now once again under the control of a single president, but that's how it was: some guy called Jack Jackson-Franklin, who had been a bit-part actor in videos, and who, aged eighty-seven, had discovered his extremely patriotic vocation of statesman. Aided by his singular and inexplicable charisma, and by his suspect family tree, according to which he was the descendent of two presidents who had ruled over the states during their glory days, he had managed to unify, at least for now, the seventy-nine northern states. Anyway, Mr. Jackson-Franklin said to the world that the Independent States would not permit such a thing to take place. No more, just that they would not permit such a thing to take place. The world laughed uproariously at this.
Over there, in the Saint Leninburg palace, ministers cleared their throats, advisers swallowed saliva, trying to find out if, by bobbing their Adam's apples up and down enough, they might be able to loosen their stiff official shirts.
"Ahem. Ahem. It's in the south. A long way to the south. In the west, Your Majesty."
"It is. Humph. Ahem. It is, Your Majesty, a tiny country in a tiny territory."
"It says that it is in Argentina," the tsarina said, still staring through the window but without paying any attention to the night as it fell over the snow-covered roofs and the frozen shores of the Baltic.
"Ah, yes, that's right, that's right, Your Majesty, a pocket republic."
Sergei Vasilievich Kustkarov, some kind of councilor and, what is more, an educated and sensible man, broke into the conversation.
"Several, Your Majesty, it is several."
And at last the tsarina turned around. Who cared a fig for the Baltic night, the snow-covered rooftops, the roofs themselves, and the city of which they were a part? Heavy silk crackled, starched petticoats, lace.
"Several of what, Councilor Kustkarov, several of what? Don't come to me with your ambiguities."
"I must say, Your Majesty, I had not the slightest intention--"
"Several of what?"
The tsarina looked directly at him, her lips held tightly together, her hands moving unceasingly, and Kustkarov panicked, as well he might.
"Rep-rep-republics, Your Majesty," he blurted out. "Several of them. Apparently, a long time ago, a very long time, it used to be a single territory, and now it is several, several republics, but their inhabitants, the people who live in all of them, all of the republics, are called, they call themselves, the people, that is, Argentinians."
The tsarina turned her gaze away. Kustkarov felt so relieved that he was encouraged to carry on speaking:
"There are seven of them, Your Majesty: Rosario, Entre dos Rios, Ladocta, Ona, Riachuelo, Yujujuy, and Labodegga."
The tsarina sat down.
"We must do something," she said.
Silence. Outside it was not snowing, but inside it appeared to be. The tsarina looked at the transport minister.
"This enters into your portfolio," she said.
Kustkarov sat down, magnificently. How lucky he was to be a councilor, a councilor with no specific duties. The transport minister, on the other hand, turned pale.
"I think, Your Majesty...," he dared to say.
"Don't think! Do something!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the minister said, and, bowing, started to make his way to the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" the tsarina said, without moving her mouth or twitching an eyelid.
"I'm just, I'm going, I'm just going to see what can be done, Your Majesty."
There's nothing that can be done, Sergei Vasilievich thought in delight, nothing. He realized that he was not upset, but instead he felt happy. And on top of everything else a woman, he thought. Kustkarov was married to Irina Waldoska-Urtiansk, a real beauty, perhaps the most beautiful woman in all of Holy Russia. Perhaps he was being cuckolded; it would have been all too easy for him to find that out, but he did not want to. His thoughts turned in a circle: and on top of everything else a woman. He looked at the tsarina and was struck, not for the first time, by her beauty. She was not so beautiful as Irina, but she was magnificent.
In Rosario it was not snowing, not because it was summer, although it was, but because it never snowed in Rosario. And there weren't any palm trees: the Moroccans would have been extremely disappointed had they known, but their diplomats said nothing about the Rosario flora in their reports, partly because the flora of Rosario was now practically nonexistent, and partly because diplomats are supposed to be above that kind of thing.
Everyone who was not a diplomat, that is to say, everyone, the population of the entire republic that in the last ten years had multiplied vertiginously and had now reached almost two hundred thousand souls, was euphoric, happy, triumphant. They surrounded her house, watched over her as she slept, left expensive imported fruits outside her door, followed her down the street. Some potentate allowed her the use of a Ford 99, which was one of the five cars in the whole country, and a madman who lived in the Espinillos cemetery hauled water all the way up from the Pará lagoon and grew a flower for her which he then gave her.
"How nice," she said, then went on, dreamily, "Will there be flowers where I'm going?"
They assured her that there would be.
She trained every day. As they did not know exactly what it was she had to do to train herself, she got up at dawn, ran around the Independence crater, skipped, did some gymnastic exercises, ate little, learned how to hold her breath, and spent hours and hours sitting or curled into strange positions. She also danced the waltz. She was almost positive that the waltz was not likely to come in handy, but she enjoyed it very much.
Meanwhile, farther away, the trail of gunpowder had become a barrel of dynamite, although dynamite was also a legendary substance and didn't exist. The infoscreens in every country, whether poor or rich, central or peripheral, developed or not, blazed forth with extremely large headlines suggesting dates, inventing biographical details, trying to hide, without much success, their envy and confusion. No one was fooled:
"We have been wretchedly beaten," the citizens of Bolivia said.
"Who would have thought it," pondered the man on the Reykjavík omnibus.
The former transport minister of Holy Russia was off breaking stones in Siberia. Councilor Sergei Vasilievich Kustkarov was sleeping with the tsarina, but that was only a piece of low, yet spicy, gossip that has nothing to do with this story.
"We will not allow this to happen!" Mr. Jackson-Franklin blustered, tugging nervously at his hairpiece. "It is our own glorious history that has set aside for us this brilliant destiny! It is we, we and not this despicable banana republic, who are marked for this glory!"
Mr. Jackson-Franklin also did not know that there were no palm trees or bananas in Rosario, but this was due not to a lack of reports from his diplomats but rather a lack of diplomats. Diplomats are a luxury that a poor country cannot afford, and so poor countries often go to great pains to take offense and recall all the knights commanders and lawyers and doctors and even eventually the generals working overseas, in order to save money on rent and electricity and gas and salaries, not to mention the cost of the banquets and all the money in brown paper envelopes.
But the headlines kept on appearing on the infoscreens: "Argentinian Astronaut Claims She Will Reach Edge of Universe," "Sources Claim Ship Is Spaceworthy in Spite of or Because of Centuries-Long Interment," "Science or Catastrophe?," "Astronaut Not a Woman but a Transsexual" (this in the Imperialskaya Gazeta, the most puritan of the infoscreens, even more so than the Papal Piccolo Osservatore Lombardo), "Ship Launches," "First Intergalactic Journey in Centuries," "We Will Not Allow This to Happen!" (Portland Times).
She was dancing the waltz. She woke up with her heart thumping, tried out various practical hairstyles, ran, skipped, drank only filtered water, ate only olives, avoided spies and journalists, went to see the ship every day, just to touch it. The mechanics all adored her.
"It'll work, they'll see, it'll work," the chief engineer said defiantly.
Nobody contradicted him. No one dared say that it wouldn't.
It would make it, of course it would make it. Not without going through many incredible adventures on its lengthy journey. Lengthy? No one knew who Langevin was anymore, so no one was shocked to discover that his theory contradicted itself, ended up biting its own tail, and that however long the journey took, the observers would only perceive it as having lasted minutes. Someone called Cervantes, a very famous personage back in the early years of human civilization--it was still debated whether he had been a physicist, a poet, or a musician--had suggested a similar theory in one of his lost works.
One autumn dawn the ship took off from the Independence crater, the most deserted part of the whole desert republic of Rosario, at five forty-five in the morning. The exact time is recorded because the inhabitants of the country had all pitched in together to buy a clock, which they thought the occasion deserved (there was one other clock, in the Enclosed Convent of the Servants of Santa Rita de Casino, but because the convent was home to an enclosed order nothing ever went in or out of it, no news, no requests, no answers, no nothing). Unfortunately, they had not had enough money. But then someone had had the brilliant idea which had brought in the money they needed, and Rosario had hired out its army for parades in friendly countries: there weren't that many of them and the ones there were weren't very rich, but they managed to get the cash together. Anyone who was inspired by patriotism and by the proximity of glory had to see those dashing officers, those disciplined soldiers dressed in gold and crimson, protected by shining breastplates, capped off with plumed helmets, their catapults and pouches of stones at their waists, goose-stepping through the capital of Entre Dos Rios or the Padrone Giol vineyards in Labodegga, at the foot of the majestic Andes.
The ship blasted off. It got lost against the sky. Before the inhabitants of Rosario, their hearts in their throats and their eyes clouded by emotion, had time to catch their breath, a little dot appeared up there, getting bigger and bigger, and it was the ship coming back down. It landed at 06:11 on the same morning of that same autumn day. The clock that recorded this is preserved in the Rosario Historical Museum. It no longer works, but anyone can go and see it in its display cabinet in Room A of the Museum. In Room B, in another display case, is the so-called Carballensis Indentic Axe, the fatal tool that cut down all the vegetation of Rosario and turned the whole country into a featureless plain. Good and evil, side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
Twenty-six minutes on Earth, many years on board the ship. Obviously, she did not have a watch or a calendar with her: the republic of Rosario would not have been able to afford either of them. But it was many years, she knew that much.
Leaving the galaxy was a piece of cake. You can do it in a couple of jumps, everyone knows that, following the instructions that Albert Einsteinstein, the multifaceted violin virtuoso, director of sci-fi movies, and student of space-time, gave us a few hundred years back. But the ship did not set sail to the very center of the universe, as its predecessors had done in the great era of colonization and discovery; no, the ship went right to the edge of the universe.
Everyone also knows that there is nothing in the universe, not even the universe itself, which does not grow weaker as you reach its edge. From pancakes to arteries, via love, rubbers, photographs, revenge, bridal gowns, and power. Everything tends to imperceptible changes at the beginning, rapid change afterward; everything at the edge is softer and more blurred, as the threads start to fray from the center to the outskirts.
In the time it took her to take a couple of breaths, a breath and a half, over the course of many years, she passed through habitable and uninhabitable places, worlds which had once been classified as existent, worlds which did not appear and had never appeared and probably would never appear in any cartographical survey. Planets of exiles, singing sands, minutes and seconds in tatters, whirlpools of nothingness, space junk, and that's without even mentioning those beings and things, all of which stood completely outside any possibility of description, so much so that we tend not to perceive them when we look at them; all of this, and shock, and fear more than anything else, and loneliness. The hair grew gray at her temples, her flesh lost its firmness, wrinkles appeared around her eyes and her mouth, her knees and ankles started to act up, she slept less than before and had to half close her eyes and lean backward in order to make out the numbers on the consoles. And she was so tired that it was almost unbearable. She did not waltz any longer: she put an old tape into an old machine and listened and moved her gray head in time with the orchestra.
She reached the edge of the universe. Here was where everything came to an end, so completely that even her tiredness disappeared and she felt once again as full of enthusiasm as she had when she was younger. There were hints, of course: salt storms, apparitions, little brushstrokes of white against the black of space, large gaps made of sound, echoes of long-dead voices that had died giving sinister orders, ash, drums; but when she reached the edge itself, these indications gave way to space signage: "End," "You Are Reaching the Universe Limits," "The Cosmos General Insurance Company, YOUR Company, Says: GO NO FURTHER," "End of Protected Cosmonaut Space," etc., as well as the scarlet polygon that the OMUU had adopted to use as a sign for that's it, abandon all hope, the end.
All right, so she was here. The next thing to do was go back. But the idea of going back never occurred to her. Women are capricious creatures, just like little boys: as soon as they get what they want, then they want something else. She carried on.
There was a violent judder as she crossed the limit. Then there was silence, peace, calm. All very alarming, to tell the truth. The needles did not move, the lights did not flash, the ventilation system did not hiss, her alveoli did not vibrate, her chair did not swivel, the screens were blank. She got up, went to the portholes, looked out, saw nothing. It was logical enough:
"Of course," she said to herself, "when the universe comes to an end, then there's nothing."
She looked out through the portholes a little more, just in case. She still could see nothing, but she had an idea.
"But I'm here," she said. "Me and the ship."
She put on a space suit and walked out into the nothing.
When the ship landed in the Independence crater in the republic of Rosario, twenty-six minutes after it had taken off, when the hatch opened and she appeared on the ramp, the spirit of Paul Langevin flew over the crater, laughing fit to burst. The only people who heard him were the madman who had grown the flower for her in the Espinillos cemetery and a woman who was to die that day. No one else had ears or fingers or tongue or feet, far less did they have eyes to see him.
It was the same woman who had left, the very same, and this calmed the crowds down at the same time as it disappointed them, all the inhabitants of the country, the diplomats, the spies, and the journalists. It was only when she came down the gangplank and they came closer to her that they saw the network of fine wrinkles around her eyes. All other signs of her old age had vanished, and had she wished, she could have waltzed tirelessly, for days and nights on end, from dusk till dawn till dusk.
The journalists all leaned forward; the diplomats made signals, which they thought were subtle and unseen, to the bearers of their sedan chairs to be ready to take them back to their residences as soon as they had heard what she had to say; the spies took photographs with the little cameras hidden away in their shirt buttons or their wisdom teeth; all the old people put their hands together; the men raised their fists to their heart; the little boys pranced; the young girls smiled.
And then she told them what she had seen:
"I took off my suit and my helmet," she said, "and walked along the invisible avenues that smelled of violets."
She did not know that the whole world was waiting to hear what she said; that Ekaterina V had made Sergei Vasilievich get up at five o'clock in the morning so that he could accompany her to the grand salon and wait there for the news; that one of the seventy-nine Northern States had declared its independence because the president had not stopped anything from happening or obtained any glory, and this had lit the spark of rebellion in the other seventy-eight states, and this had made Mr. Jackson-Franklin leave the White House without his wig, in pajamas, freezing and furious; that Bolivia, Paraguay, and Iceland had allowed the two Peruvian republics to join their new alliance and defense treaty set up against a possible attack from space; that the high command of the Paraguayan aeronautical engineers had promised to build a ship that could travel beyond the limits of the universe, always assuming that they could be granted legal immunity and a higher budget, a declaration that made the guarani fall back the two points that it had recently risen and then another one as well; that Don Schicchino Giol, the new padrone of the Republic of Labodegga at the foot of the majestic Andes had been woken from his most recent drinking bout to be told that he had now to sign a declaration of war against the Republic of Rosario, now that they knew the strength of the enemy's forces.
"Eh? What? Hunh?" Don Schicchino said.
"I saw the nothingness of everything," she said, "and it was all infused with the unmistakable smell of wood violets. The nothingness of the world is like the inside of a stomach throbbing above your head. The nothingness of people is like the back of a painting, black, with glasses and wires that release dreams of order and imperfect destinies. The nothingness of creatures with leathery wings is a crack in the air and the rustle of tiny feet. The nothingness of history is the massacre of the innocents. The nothingness of words, which is a throat and a hand that break whatever they touch on perforated paper; the nothingness of music, which is music. The nothingness of precincts, of crystal glasses, of seams, of hair, of liquids, of lights, of keys, of food."
When she had finished her list, the potentate who owned the Ford 99 said that he would give it to her, and that in the afternoon he would send one of his servants with a liter of naphtha so that she could take the car out for a spin.
"Thank you," she said. "You are very generous."
The madman went away, looking up to the skies; who knows what he was searching for. The woman who was going to die that day asked herself what she should eat on Sunday, when her sons and their wives came to lunch. The president of the Republic of Rosario gave a speech.
And everything in the world carried on the same, apart from the fact that Ekaterina V named Kustkarov her interior minister, which terrified the poor man but which was welcomed with open arms by Irina as an opportunity for her to refresh her wardrobe and her stock of lovers. And Jack Jackson-Franklin sold his memoirs to one of Paraguay's more sophisticated magazines for a stellar amount of money, which allowed him to retire to live in Imerina. And six spaceships from six major world powers set off to the edges of the universe and were never seen again.
She married a good man who had a house with a balcony, a white bicycle, and a radio which, on clear days, could pick up the radio plays that LLL1 Radio Magnum transmitted from Entre Dos Rios, and she waltzed in white satin shoes. The day that her first son was born a very pale green shoot grew out of the ground on the banks of the great lagoon.
submitted by MilkbottleF to shortstoryaday [link] [comments]

Accessing all the Vancouver Bridges

Update notes: finished adding all the bridges, added a link to photos. I will try to format everything to be a bit nicer and/or make a copy at another location that allows for easienicer formatting.
As requested by raleighspritely in the other bridges thread, this post is intended to help generally newer riders figure out specifically how to get onto each bridge in each direction, where all most of the exit options go and any other weirdnesses each bridge may have.
I'll assume you know roughly where you are and roughly how to get to each bridge. Some are easy to find the entrances for (Burrard), some are weird (Cambie, southbound) and some have entrances a long way from where the cars access (Golden Ears) so if they're super weird I'll try and give you more specifics.
Photos from the day showing most of the bridges: https://imgur.com/a/RvTUs0V (missing: 2nd Narrows, KSB, Canada Line, Arthur Liang)
And now to talking about crossing bridges!
Granville - follow the instructions for Burrard or Cambie
If you insist on using the GSB (don't) SB access is easiest via Howe St and NB access at 5th & Granville
Burrard
Easiest to get onto IMO as the access is right at the ends of the bridge
Cambie
Going southbound on Cambie is super weird to get to unless you're already on Nelson St
Lion's Gate
North Bound:
South Bound:
Second Narrows/IronworkersThis is one of the weirdest/awkwardest, particularly at the north end
North Bound:
South Bound
Access is here basically across from Phibbs. Many ways to get to it, but you've gotta get to that spot to go south.
Exiting: takes you down through the trees, watch for the pair of switchbacks. You'll end up at the bottom of Skeena St.
Arthur Laing
I regard this as an "experts only" type bridge that I wouldn't recommend to anyone not comfortable with riding in fairly close proximity to cars. There's no separated lane and just a narrow shoulder. That said, I don't feel unsafe on this bridge for some reason, but that might just be from riding it a bunch and being used to riding next to cars. Anyways, onto how to get on/off:
Southbound: access is via the car ramp at where Marine & Granville all come together in a 6 lane clusterfuck that was meant to be the highway through Vancouver. Normally I access coming off NW Marine, onto the clusterfuck, pick up speed down the hill and (with a lot of shoulder checking) get across the right most lane onto the ramp. Go up the ramp and stick to the right.
Exiting: things get dicey/exciting. You'll be crossing roads at speed so be shoulder checking.
North Bound: you can either access off the paths off Airport Rd here or by riding north along Russ Baker Way and basically sticking right and following the signs to Vancouver.
Exiting: again a bit dicey with some potential lane crossing
Pitt River
This is one of the nicest crossings. All the recently built (or updated) bridges are really, really nice once you're on the deck (Pitt River, Port Mann, Golden Ears + Ironworkers post update).
The cycle/pedestrian lane is on the north side of the span and is nice and wide. Access on the west end requires crossing Belfast Ave/Fremont Connector that loops under the bridge. Since access is all for the one side crossing my instructions are written for West->East travel but basically just do them in reverse for East->West.
Coming from NW (Trabouley Poco Trail/Deboville Slough), you do a couple zigzags and hairpins and crossing Belfast St but you can see your target the whole time so this bridge is honestly one of the easiest to get onto.
Coming from the SW, you go under the bridge parallel to the Fremont Connector then see the access to your left. If you were to keep going on the path instead you'd eventually end up at Deboville Slough.
East end of the bridge drops you in Pitt Meadows. As you exit (eastbound) you can immediately do 180deg turn left to get onto the trails. Another left at the river to go south, north and you can make your way out to Pitt Lake on the trails. To access the trail parallel to, and on the south side of, Lougheed Highway take the left at the river then left again at Ferryslip Rd.
If you go straight Old Dewdney Trunk Rd is a pretty nice ride towards Maple Ridge.
Golden Ears
Alright, this one is possibly the most difficult unless you know exactly where to go, partly because they're a long way along the bridge from where cars access. The Southbound Access is at 113B & Airport Way (Maple Ridge/Pitt Meadows). The northbound access is at 100A Ave & 201St (Langley)
Southbound
Northbound
Access is at 100A Ave & 201St. You go up the multilevel round ramp. Your exit will basically be the aforementioned 113B roundabout, you can go straight through it to get onto Maple Meadows Way towards the mall, right will change into 203St as it turns north or go left and west towards the airport.
Canada Line Bridge
This one is on the side of the Canada Line bridge section between Marine & Cambie Station & Bridgeport Station.
North connection is on Kent Ave S @ Cambie. However you have to go east from Kent Ave N & Cambie to turn south to get onto Kent Ave S and access the ramp. If you're coming down Cambie, hang a right on Kent Ave N.
South Connection is at River Road and Van Horne Way.
If you're going North then east, my recommendation is take Cambie north, then cut east at 59th. Kent Ave N between Cambie and Ontario sucks butt and cars are frequently impatient assholes on that section (it's also rough, needs a repave and has a lot of rail tracks).
If you're going north then west you can go west on Kent Ave N and then right on Heather before climbing a bit and taking the westbound route of your choice.
If you're just going north then Cambie, Ontario & Heather are all pretty good choices with Ontario & Heather being quieter. I can't remember how all of Heather's crossings are since I haven't ridden it past 59th in years.
If you're going South, you can go:
Formatting is becoming a pain because this is getting long. Sorry!
Port Mann
This one is like the Pitt River Bridge in that the pedestrian/bike path is only on the north/east side of the bridge deck.
West access is where the Port Mann passes over United Boulevard and where Unite intersects the Mary Hill Bypass offramps. If you're coming off the bridge you can go south/west on United and eventually work your way over towards Braid Station. If you go east on the Mary Hill Bypass you can connect to the Traboulay PoCo trail, Argue St and work your way up to the Pitt River bridge. There's also a mess of trails in and around Colony Farm but you're on your own for that :)
East access is a ways up a pretty decent hill at 152st/112Ave by Dogwood Campgrounds. If you're going north/west, the signage is good. Just don't take the overpass over the highway. How you get to 152/112...up to you. It's a big grid!
Alex Fraser
Ok, this one is another bit of a mess in terms of access. I don't think this one is technically unidirectional like the others, but I recommend riding the same way as cars are travelling and this guide will be based on that. Careful on the deck, there's a bunch of spots where you have to dodge the bases of signs and other spots where the path just shifts left/right.
Southbound:
You've made it over the Queensborough or come in from Richmond. You've made it onto the Annacis Channel bridge and are approaching Annacis island. You'll see a bus-stop on an island, you want to get there (if not busy, drop the curb & cut across, otherwise there's a crosswalk to use), take the crosswalk that goes parallel to the bus-only section of intersection, onto the sidewalk on the far-far side and then left and you'll see the path onto the bridge. You'll get dropped off with the choice of left or right. Left takes you towards HWY17, River Rd which are the two options for getting to the ferry (take River, it's quieter and only marginally slower). Right will take you under the bridge, and after you go past Planet Ice you can go left towards River Rd east, right-then-right to get onto Nordel north/east or just right for the Delta-South Surrey Greenway.
If you're trying to get to South Surrey, go as if you're going up Nordel, get over the overpass, then take the trail that cuts back to the right. This is the North Delta Greenway and is superior to the DSS Greenway in basically every way including being WAY smoother (I ride it on my carbon road bike on 25mm tires).
North Bound:
Starting from Planet Ice, take the path up onto the bridge, ride across, question why you're out here and didn't just take the Massey Shuttle to get home faster...
At the north end of the bridge, you'll end up next to the Annacis exit ramp. At the end of it, you want to take the small crosswalk onto the island with the bus stop, across Cliveden ave onto the island on the far side, then across another little crosswalk onto the path and hang a left. Stick to this path, you'll go back over the Annacis Channel and find yourself at a zig-zagging ramp. At the bottom of that you have the options of:hard right: path through to Hamilton Highway Park where you can take an overpass towards River Rd
left then right: onto Boundary Rd then Dyke rd, you can use this to get over towards Westminster Highway via Fraserwood Way.
left then left (generally recommended): take Boundary Rd north. At Boundary & Boyd you can go right to the Queensborough or left onto Westminster Hwy which you can use to get all the way to Richmond or to connect to River Rd
Queensborough
because New West is at a 45deg angle I'll be using "up/down and top/bottom" for this bridge because it's effectively a hill. Top is 22nd St station end, bottom is Queensborough Landing.
The top connection is just below 22nd St Station. If you're coming from 22nd St station just take the bridge down, it'll drop you on Boyd St. Left takes you to QB Landing. Right takes you to...not a lot. It's narrow, you'll probably have to slow down a bunch as you pass people.
If you're coming from Market Crossing area or New West (both via Marine Dr) I recommend taking the "up" side of the bridge down because it has about 1% of the traffic the "down" side does.
To get to it, the access is the ramp on the "cars up" side of the bridge. Otherwise, you can use the ramp on the "cars down" side to connect to the "down" side.
Either way as you're going down, watch for the hairpins at the bottom!
If you're going up and heading to downtown New West take the "up" side. Head east along Marine/Stewardson. You can eventually head right down a side street to get to S&O because that's why you're in New West right? If not, you're at S&O now. Best way to get through to the rest of downtown is via the Quay.
If you're going up and heading to anywhere else take the "down" side and go all the way to 22nd St Station. Right and past the station connects to 7th Ave across New West. Left you can use to get onto both Marine Dr or Marine Way to go west to Market Crossing, Big Bend, Glenlyon, River District. Straight turns into the BC Parkway and travels under the skytrain past Edmonds, Royal Oak, Metrotown stations.
Knight St
Recommendation: if you can, keep going west and take the Canada Line Bridge. This bridge was NOT intended for cyclists at all as you're about to learn and this section may get a little rant-y.
Northbound:
Southbound (I haven't gone SB on this bridge in a long time)
Access is via the onramp at Inverness & Marine. If crossing SB on Inverness watch for cars not understanding how stoplights work and driving into the intersection.
Take the on-ramp, hop onto the sidewalk.
First exit is Mitchell Island, get across the island. Get back onto the sidewalk.
Second exit is Bridgeport and provided you take that off-ramp you'll end on a sidewalk on Bridgeport pointed west. First intersection will be Sweden Way, turn left for IKEA, right takes you up to Vulcan Way which can be used to connect to River, No5 & No6 Rds.
Opinion: the KSB needs a cycling infrastructure update more than the GSB. The GSB is bad, but at least Cambie and Burrard are basically adjacent.
Oak St Bridge
Disclaimer: I have ridden across this bridge exactly once, only north bound on the southbound side. I will provide links to where I think the access to the NB path is, but I can't guarantee it.
This accesses I used for this bridge are near enough to the Canada Line Bridge so I would recommend just using that. Also the access Oak St Bridge are all off bigger roads so just awkward to get to.
The north end of the SB path is a crosswalk between 71st Ave & 72nd Ave on Oak St. ( https://www.google.com/maps/place/49%C2%B012'22.1%22N+123%C2%B007'49.4%22W/@49.2061485,-123.1325803,765m/data=!3m2!1e3!4b1!4m6!3m5!1s0x0:0x0!7e2!8m2!3d49.2061446!4d-123.1303973 )
The south end of the SB path is at the southeast end of the Shanghai Wonderful restaurant parking lot. https://www.google.com/maps/place/49%C2%B011'30.5%22N+123%C2%B007'10.7%22W/@49.1918179,-123.1201938,191m/data=!3m2!1e3!4b1!4m6!3m5!1s0x0:0x0!7e2!8m2!3d49.1918174!4d-123.1196477
I *think* the south end of the NB path is here: https://www.google.com/maps/place/49%C2%B011'25.0%22N+123%C2%B006'55.9%22W/@49.1902744,-123.1163805,382m/data=!3m2!1e3!4b1!4m6!3m5!1s0x0:0x0!7e2!8m2!3d49.1902728!4d-123.1155145
I don't know how to get there.
I think the north end of the NB path is effectively the intersection of SW Marine @ Shaughnessy St. https://www.google.com/maps/place/49%C2%B012'17.7%22N+123%C2%B007'45.5%22W/@49.2047843,-123.1293076,104m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m6!3m5!1s0x0:0x0!7e2!8m2!3d49.2049204!4d-123.1293171
Once you're on the bridge it's just ride along until you're at the other end. The surface is weird concrete sections that have all gone a bit convex so it's a weird kinda bumpy ride.
rest to be continued later including: Pitt River, Golden Ears, Port Mann, Alex Fraser, Queensborough, Knight St, Canada Line, Oak St and Arthur Laing. If you need to go between New West and Surrey I recommend just taking the Skytrain.
submitted by unclebumblebutt to vancouvercycling [link] [comments]

My notes from Governor Baker's Press Conference today (5/11)

These are notes I took while watching today's press conference. They are not perfect or comprehensive, but rather a brief summary for anyone who couldn't watch. If you want to watch the recording of the press conference, it's available on youtube. All press conferences are broadcast live on www.mass.gov/covid19-updates (the page is usually updated with the time of the press conference some time in the morning).
Most hospitals are asking for donations of personal protective equipment such as N95 respirator masks, safety goggles and paper gowns.
The American Red Cross says it is facing a "severe blood shortage" because of canceled blood drives, and it's asking healthy individuals to donate blood, platelets or AB elite plasma.
Please consider donating to this fundraiser for the Greater Boston Food Bank, which is being run by The Paper Mouse (a gift shop in West Newton). The shop is matching donations up to $5000 in addition to donating 20% of their May revenue.
Notes in brackets [Example] are notes of my own and don't represent what was said in the press conference

Governor Baker
Questions

Notes from me:
submitted by ivedied to CoronavirusMa [link] [comments]

Nevada Gaming Control Board: Face coverings now required at table games

https://www.8newsnow.com/news/local-news/nevada-gaming-control-board-to-require-face-coverings-at-table-games/

LAS VEGAS (KLAS) — Citing updated guidance from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the Nevada Gaming Control Board has updated health and safety policies for gaming establishments in the state.
Among the new guidelines, establishments must now require all patrons to wear face coverings at table and card games if there is no barrier between the dealer and each player. This requirement extends to all players, spectators or anyone else within six feet of the game.
Casino reopening plans must also provide for the availability of face masks or cloth coverings for guests upon request. As guests enter establishments, they must be offered face coverings or there must be dedicated signage throughout the establishment notifying guests that face coverings are available. Licensees must ensure that face coverings are provided upon request.
Also, in line with Governor Sisolak’s emergency directive, “musical performances, live entertainment, concerts, competitions, sporting events, and any events with live performances may resume, but shall remain closed for public attendance, and the Board must approve such an event prior to it taking place.” With this new policy, the board has released the Closed Event Policy for Gaming Establishments.
The board will make further updates to health and safety policies as needed.
submitted by nn2036 to Reno [link] [comments]

Face Coverings Rules

In England, you must wear a face covering by law in the following settings:
public transport
indoor transport hubs (airports, rail and tram stations and terminals, maritime ports and terminals, bus and coach stations and terminals)
shops and supermarkets (places which are open to the public and that wholly or mainly offer goods or services for retail sale or hire)
indoor shopping centres
banks, building societies, and post offices (including credit unions, short-term loan providers, savings clubs and money service businesses)
You are expected to wear a face covering immediately before entering any of these settings and must keep it on until you leave.
You are also strongly encouraged to wear a face covering in other enclosed public spaces where social distancing may be difficult and where you come into contact with people you do not normally meet.
Face coverings are also needed in NHS settings, including hospitals and primary or community care settings, such as GP surgeries. They are advised to be worn in care homes. Individual settings may have their own policies and require you to take other measures.
Where this law does not apply
Face coverings are required to be worn in any shops, including food shops and supermarkets, but are not required in hospitality settings, including restaurants with table service, bars, and pubs. They are also not required in entertainment venues ( casinos), exercise and sports venues (such as gyms).
Where a shop is within another premises which does not require a face covering (such as a museum or other visitor attraction) they are required in the shop only. Check for signage upon entry and exit to know when this is the case.
Scotland Mandatory face coverings
Retail
A face covering must be worn by all people in a shop, except where an exemption or ‘reasonable excuse,’ as defined in the legislation, applies when the shop is open to the public.
A shop is any indoor establishment which offers goods or services for sale or hire. This includes anywhere that offer some goods for hire, for example if a library offers DVDs or CDs for hire.
This does not include hospitality premises such as cafes, coffee shops, restaurants or pubs. It also excludes money services businesses such as banks and building societies.
The law exempts staff in a shop from wearing a face covering where they are able to maintain 2m physical distancing from members of the public, or perspex screens are in place. However, even where staff maintain 2m physical distancing, and are not legally obliged to wear a face covering, it is strongly recommended that a face covering is worn.
Transport
A face covering must be worn by all passengers and staff or operators in the following settings:
train services including the Glasgow subway
bus services and the Edinburgh tram
taxi and private hire vehicles
bus stations, railway stations (including open air stations) and airports
ferry services (unless the ferry is open to the elements and physical distancing can be achieved, or the vessel is large enough that physical distancing can be achieved)
airline services
Face covering exemptions
Some people are not required to wear a face covering.
These include:
children under 5 years of age
police constables or workers such as paramedics acting in the course of their duty
staff such as drivers or checkout assistants who are physically separated, by means of, for example, screens, from passengers or customers
shop workers if they maintain a 2 metre distance from customers or members of the public
You may also have a reasonable excuse not to wear a face covering if, for example:
you have a health condition or you are disabled and a face covering would be inappropriate because it would cause difficulty, pain or severe distress or anxiety or because you cannot apply a covering and wear it in the proper manner safely and consistently. Individual discretion should be applied in considering the use of face coverings for other children including, for example, children with breathing difficulties and disabled children who would struggle to wear a face covering
you need to eat or drink
you are taking medication
you are communicating with someone else who relies on lip reading
a relevant person, such as a police officer, asks you to remove your face covering Rules Source
(UPDATE) http://news.sky.com/story/coronavirus-lockdown-easing-postponed-and-masks-to-be-mandatory-in-all-public-indoor-settings-12039792
The prime minister also announced that rules around face coverings would be extended to make them mandatory in most public indoor settings, "such as museums, galleries, cinemas and places of worship".
Thank you for reading!
submitted by -ENTER_TEXT- to CoronavirusUK [link] [comments]

No cruise is every close to a Perfect Cruise

My background: 22 past cruises, over 40 years, on multiple main stream as well as premium cruise lines; with my first cruise which was my honeymoon. My family and I has stayed in an inside cabin all the way up to the Owners Penthouse Suite in cruise line VIP sections. We have paid $500.00 per person all the way up to $5,000.00 per person. That foundation of information is what I am drawing from for this post.
First Time Cruisers: The most frequently asked questions on most cruise social media boards, “I am a first-time cruiser, what advise can you give me?” My advice is to take everything you hear and learn while you are researching your first cruise, with a grain of salt. This includes my comments as well. Everyone seems to have a favorite cruise line; a cruise line they hate with a passion; deep ceded opinions on everything from food, service, excursions, investments, how as well as who they book their cruise with and the new notion in main stream cruising of the VIP “Ship-Within-A-Ship” concept.
Your reality is, you have nothing to compare your first cruise with. You are an unmolded lump of clay. You are a cruise virgin. As long as your flight is not delay/cancelled, you don’t get sea sick, you don’t get something crazy like food poisoning and or you don’t get hurt somehow; your cruise will be a wonderful memory. As your life goes on, you will reflect on this first cruise with great warmth and gratitude. I know when I think of my first cruise, it was on the then Norwegian, SS Norway (Now called NCL). We had an inside state room, it cost $1,000.00 for both of us including and we thought the service, food, ship, activities and shows were over-the-top, GREAT. I am sure there were issues; however, a human’s mind can positively redesign our memories as PERFECT.
Just do your best to organize your thoughts; go with the flow; make your reservations are done early for dinner as well as shows; and don’t get to drunk on night one or night seven. Now that is some good advice.
Frequent Cruisers: The most frequently posted topics from folks like us, “Cruising just isn’t like it was in the OLD days.” I am 62 years old, I can’t remember the old days. I can’t even remember what I ate yesterday. Yet I have said those same words and meant them. I, like many others in this category of “Frequent Cruisers” are dealing with a psychological dilemma. This same dilemma happens whenever we buy material thing, every experience we have and every relationship we start. Our rating system is based on the last thing we got or did.
Therefore, if I had never cruised before, anything is better then what I know. Because I know nothing. Everything is fresh and new. Everything is exciting and just a little bit dangerous as well as scary. The anticipation of our first cruise was unbearable. When you are a frequent cruiser, these feeling, and emotions unfortunately are not as intense. Sorry, you can’t go back and get those same feelings again. That is why we start inching up in cabin class. First balcony, then mini-suite, suite, suite with a butler and finally the owner’s suite. We want more than we had the last time. Human nature at its worst.
This does not mean we all don’t absolutely love to cruise, quite the contrary. We just approach it with a much different approach and strategy. We want better food, service, shows experience, activities and relationships. Some of our expectations simply can not be met. This is when the real issues begin.
I read a lot of negative comments on Reddit referring to the people on CruiseCritics.com. The references are that those CruiseCritics.com folks are always so down on the MANY cruises they go on. They all come across as the “Most Important Person on the Cruise”. They establish themselves as the expert on everything and get angry when anyone challenges their high fluent attitude. I am an honored member of CruiseCritics.com. I can see how different social media platforms can be critical of CruiseCritics.com. Yet those whom frequent cruiseCritics.com are looking for a different level of information. This is usually because most of them are frequent cruisers for decades. Not all, most and this is my opinion. The real positive here, all social media, blogs and cruise site offer a view that assists in making future and expensive decisions like; cruise lines, cabin categories, specialty restaurants, shows and excursions. Just like with survey analysis, throw out the bad and the great. Look at what the middle 80% say and you will get a great consensus.
The Path to the Perfect Cruise Experience: In this next section, it come from my experience. You may agree or disagree. Regardless, my last few cruises have been outstanding. The approach goes like this:
· Attitude: If you go on a cruise with a bad attitude, just skip the cruise. I have done it and I knew I was setting the entire week up to be a huge failure. If you get on board and something happens badly right away, let it go. An example was a cruise on the Celebrity Equinox a few years ago. We were staying in the very expensive “Celebrity Suite”. I plan details to a level of sickness. Every “T” is crossed; every “I” is dotted. It drives my family nuts. On day one, before the cruise even began, we were escorted to the Suites lounge while our rooms were getting ready. The Suite Lounge Concierge informed me that neither my wife or I had the Adult Drink Package. She suggested because we had a third in our room, the drink package was most likely no longer a perk. I got really upset, fast. I stewed in my seat for 30-minutes while the Concierge check the issue. She came back and said, it was fixed and it was the cruise lines fault. My attitude was shot for the entire cruise. Expensive lesson learned on attitude control.
· Pre-Plan: Your family will fight you one this. They will say, “You are planning to much, just go with the flow, dad. This is a vacation and you are stressing out about the smallest items.” Have you heart those quotes? Well guess who they yell at when they can’t get a reservation before 10:00 PM at a specialty restaurant. Who gets criticized when there is no more room in the shows. Not the bad shows; the good shows. Who starts to cry at the airport because you attempted to fly to your cruise the morning of the cruise and your flight is either cancelled or delayed. Whose luggage does not get to the room because they did not use a high-end luggage tag that the animals at the airlines can’t rip off. Who gets turned away at the port because their passport will expire soon, they are to far along in their pregnancy or they are openly sick. This is why, I pre-plan like it will be my last trip of my life time.
· Learn about the cruise Bull Shit and Prepare for IT:
· Nickle and Diming by the Cruise Line: Be prepared and don’t let it bother you. Can’t knock the cruise line for attempting to improve their profits.
o On day one, have your cabin steward take every single item out of the room that cost extra.
o If you get a spa treatment, tell the masseuse you only want the massage you ordered and not the upgraded “Special Massage” that has special creams and hot rocks. I simply DON’T use cruise spa’s any more.
o Tell you matradee in the restaurant, that you DO NOT want the chiefs table special meal that cost more than the cruise itself and is just as good as the meal being served. Cut these folks off, even before they get started.
o Skip the daily specialty drinks in the take home souvenir glass. The drink sucks and the glass will be in your next garage sale.
o Know that if you buy a drink, spa treatment, or many special services; the tip is already put on your tab. Yet there is a place for an additional tip. Tricky.
· Lounge Chair Hogs: These folks are famous internationally. Everyone has experienced them. It holds true with the best location of Lounge Chairs by the pool and seats in the theatre for the best shows. They wake up at 05:30 AM and put their towels, beach bags and sometime humorously elaborate signage on a chair. Don’t get mad, get even. If a pool lounge chair has not been used in 15 minutes, move their stuff neatly off the chair and put it under it. The cruise line says they are going to do this, but they don’t want to piss off their passengers. If the passenger comes back and gives you any lip; just say it is cruise line policy and take it up with customer services. Since my wife does not like conflict, yet I am up for it anytime; I think we are all being wronged by these lounge chair hogs. My plan is even more effective yet, also much more expensive. I book Suites, in the VIP area; that have private pools, sun decks, hot tubs, restaurants and bars. Problem completely solved. One such “Ship-Within-A-Ship” VIP area is called the NCL Haven. Most cruise lines have these exclusive area’s now.
· Rude Children in the Pools and Hot tubs: Want to get into a fight with another passenger; criticize their kid. Go ahead, I double dare you. These kids are not the issue it is their parents attitude that the pool or hot tub area is the parents personal baby sitter. This even happens in the VIP area’s like the NCL Haven. The solution is most cruise lines have adult only pool areas. Go there. In the VIP Haven, NCL finally got the point. Their newest ship, the Encore, has a three level VIP Haven Area. The top level is adults only; has the best view; has two huge hot tubs and a cigar smoking lounge on the nose of the ship. I will happily pay the premium
· Drinks at the Pool or your Favorite Bar On-Board: You are NOT going to like this one. So, You-Do-You. Don’t let your significate other attempt to get an adult beverage from the pool bar, simply don’t do it. Today, most cruise lines give the standard adult drink package as a free perk. A higher percentage of all passenger have this package. Everyone wants to get their monies worth, from start to finish. Here is a simple solution to a complicated problem. Find a pool server, introduce him/her to your significant other and give the server a $10.00 tip in cash, on day one. Problem solved. Can’t get a drink at your favorite bar. Not me, they are all over me. Why, I find my favorite bar tender and give him a $20.00 tip on day-one? From that point forward, they call me “Mr. Gary” and all I need to do with them is eye contact.
· Want a GREAT Steak, Chops or Prime Rib: Before or after you cruise, take your family to Ruth Chris; Perry’s; Flemings or the Capital Grill. You will NOT get a GREAT steak even in the Steak House Specialty Restaurant on the ship. Will it be good to average, YES. GREAT NO. I refuse to go to the cruise lines Steakhouse any more. Instead, if I have a specialty restaurant package, I go to the French, Seafood, BBQ, Japanese or Fusion Restaurants. You have been forewarned.
· Shows Especially the Crew Shows: Some of these shows are the worst. So, if you want to leave early, yet you are sitting in the middle of the aisle or the front row, it is awkward. New strategy, sit in the last row on the aisle. You can exit anytime you want. Recently on the NCL Getaway sailing, my wife and I did just that strategy. We are frequent cruisers, you know. The shows name was “Burn the Floor”. From the start to the finish, this way one of the best shows I have seen on a cruise ship. I am very critical and picky. My wife was the first to give a standing ovation. That was incredible. Will I change my seating strategy in the future, NOPE. Every seat is a great seat in these theatre’s. Extra incentive, you are closer to exit, bathroom and bar.
· Casino, Deal or no Deal, Bingo: Enough said!!!!!!! They make lots of money for the cruise line.
Well, there you have it. The best approach to the PERFECT next Cruise. Feel free to comment and ask me anything (ama). If you are rude with your comments, I will simply not answer you. If you disagree, make your case so folks can comment back. You have the right to have your own opinion. Happy cruising.
submitted by sthrngary02 to Cruise [link] [comments]

Popcorn jackpot in /r/AITA as OP refuses to pay out on a slot machine win in her living room

There have been a number of submissions in SRD from /AmITheAsshole in the past, and the sub sometimes feels like low-hanging fruit. Half the submissions feel like creative writing exercises, and stuff like “AITA for throwing my nephew down an elevator shaft for making fun of my Spongebob crocs?” are obviously questions that will attract dramatic replies.
Sometimes, though, something really weird comes along.
Background
OP (who is an Instagram model that has already been featured in the sub before) owns an antique slot machine that she inherited from her step-grandmother. She sometimes lets house guests try their luck for a quarter, and in the past has seen them win small “jackpots” that they’ve been allowed to keep. Even those who haven’t won have still just viewed it as a fun diversion.
Until Now
A recent pull of the arm by a friend of a friend saw the guy clean the thing out, winning $700 worth of quarters that had been accumulating for decades. In a move that formed the backdrop to the /AITA submission, OP told him he wasn’t allowed to keep his winnings. This led to the collapse of the party she was hosting and threats of police or legal action from the aggrieved gambler.
And So
While the mods have applied the “You’re the Asshole” tag to the thread, responses are more varied and things are popping off. OP has also now reached Edit #10 in an increasingly essay-lengthed submission text and has subsequently been banned from the sub.
Is OP entitled to keep money that she made no prior effort to claim?
“Calm down captain question marks”
“Honestly seems like a scam on your part”
Proper cautionary signage would have solved this problem
OP confirms that the guest was playing with his own quarters. Opinions split even further
Maybe the money functionally has no true origin or owner
The ownership question is clouded still further by generational issues
“I'm not trying to be a dick about this but you are really not good at analogies”
Is the concept of “a communal machine” sound when it belongs to one person and sits in their house?
OP reminds people that she is hot, which is received well
“OP isn’t running a regulated casino” vs. “yes that’s the problem”
Should the difference between a $20 and a $700 jackpot matter?
OP should have anticipated the possibility of a big payout and drafted effective policies accordingly
Is OP obliged to set and follow her own precedents? Or is society to blame?
N-word comparison out of fucking nowhere
OP is denounced for trivializing the matter
Fellow member of the international fraternity of people who own antique slot machines chimes in, is downvoted to hell
“Wishing well” analogy rubs some the wrong way
“Monopoly” analogy rubs some the wrong way
“OP is a thief” analogy rubs some the wrong way
There are over 6000 comments in this thread so I am absolutely missing some (including precisely where OP is memorably referred to as “a baby gangster,” as she claims in one of her many edits), but this is the basic gist of it.
submitted by WileECyrus to SubredditDrama [link] [comments]

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