Each human body contains a complex community of trillions of microorganisms that are important for your health while you're alive.
I'm working on clearing out some old tabs, and ran across this piece from last fall. The short version is that your gut microbiome and other microbes that accompany you in a series of symbiotic relationships throughout your lifetime persist even after you die. While you might assume that these bacteria and other little beings would perish along with you once you're no longer warm and living, it turns out that they shift gears upon your death, being part of the massive effort to return your remains en masse to the nutrient cycle.
There's honestly something rather poetic about that. Here you've spent a lifetime being the center of a holobiont--a sort of miniature, migratory ecosystem. And these many millions of life forms that you have given safe harbor to for thousands upon thousands of their generations are among the funerary vanguard caring for your remains after you're gone. They pour forth from their ancestral lands--the gut, the skin, and other discrete places--and spread out through even the most protected regions of your form.
And then, just as you constructed your body, molecule by molecule, from a lifetime of nutrients you consumed, so do these microbes go through the process of returning everything you borrowed back to the wider cycles of food and growth and life and death. The ancient halls where their ancestors lived in relative stability are now taken apart in the open air, and their descendants will disperse their inheritance into the soil and the water through the perpetual process of decomposition.
I've always wanted a green burial, and I find it comforting that when my remains are laid in the ground, they'll be accompanied by the tiny ecosystems I spent a lifetime tending, and who will return the favor by sending my molecules off in a billion new directions.
exquisite news from costa rica: the government successfully reversed deforestation. after decades of work since 1987 - with 2021 being the year were first results already showed - the rainforest canopy is now doubled and restored. š
Also written instructions are way more accessible too! Not every video has captions, and written instructions allow you to read (and re-read) at your own pace.
Scrubbing a video back and forth to catch some important step in a video makes me want to scream!
Unless it's a video tutorial demonstrating a knitting or crochet stitch or a woodshop thing, yeah, just give me the article. If it's demonstrating a hands-on skill I also want to see what I should be looking at and what it should look like, and pictures help but aren't the moving thing. But only in that case.
As a "fuck the pivot to video" old, you can't copy and paste text from a fucking video to make a personal HOWTO, in addition to all the other salient criticisms noted above.
The combination of clear text descriptions paired with clear gifs used by exrx.net makes it an absolutely spectacular resource.
Twenty-one tons of potatoes are up for grabs at Potato Palooza on Monday.
The nonprofitās set to receive a donation of 21 tons of tubers this weekend from suppliers in the Midwest. Hoping to get the starchy vegetables to people in need, the nonprofit will host a āPotato Paloozaā event on Monday in Park Hill.
āAnyone is welcome to come. They can bring tote bags, wagons, you could back up your pickup truck if you wanted to,ā Hissong said. The event is 9 a.m. to noon at the Park Hill Food Recovery Hub, 6090 East 39th Avenue, on July 27.
A few seconds. I looked down for just a few seconds and I ended up being treated to an experience that has permanently warped my sense of reality.
I was driving home after work, Iād had to stay late to help clean up and the sun was already on its way down when I finally got out the door. Iād had a podcast playing on my phone and for some reason itād randomly paused, so I glanced down for just a moment to see why itād stopped.
When I looked back up, I was faced with a pair of headlights flooding my vision and I couldnāt even hit the horn before I collided head on with the other car that had drifted out of its lane.
I strangely donāt remember any of the pain that I had to have felt. I mean, I was in a car accident, and when I woke up from my week long coma I definitely felt pain. Both my legs are broken, along with several of my ribs and my back. My face was so swollen I looked like Iād been used as the personal punching bag of a heavyweight boxer.
But no, I donāt remember any pain. Just the light. And then I was walking down a dark hallway, following the light.
I can already tell what youāre thinking- a light at the end of a dark tunnel, Iām clearly going to heaven and this is my story of how itās really like up there. That maybe Godās actually devouring the good souls and maybe hell was the better option, or maybe Godās dead and the angels are coming down to end the scourge of humanity.
Um. No. Not really. I didnāt go to heaven. Didnāt go to hell either. Iām not sure if either of those exist anymore.
I got the impression this wasnāt quite what Iād been told to expect when I heard a man speaking with a posh British accent.
ā- Sure, she got to enjoy life to its fullest with her luxury vacations and fine food, but was it really worth it to lose it all at age twenty eight? All because she took a drunk nap behind the wheel of her car.ā
A softer voice responded to his, feminine and barely above a mumble.
āI donāt understand why sheād made such a poor choice at all.ā
The British man chuckled.
āHumanity is known for such things.ā
I picked up the pace, heading right for the light until I came out in a theater box.
Iād never been in one in my life before but it didnāt take long at all to realize thatās exactly what it was, a theater box overlooking a lovely if not nearly bare stage and an uncountable amount of seats, the rows stretching back until they faded out of sight.
In the box with me was a petite young woman, probably only a year or two older than me, dressed in a scarlet gown with a tulle skirt and her brown hair neatly pinned up, sitting at a small table and looking down at the scene below. She was the first to look back at me, her eyes widening as she realized I was there. āOh, Iā¦ what? You didnāt roll yet,ā She said, brows knitting in concern before she grabbed the arm of the man next to her and tugged on the sleeve of his blue-gray tweed suit. āIrvin! Irvin, I think heās lost!ā
The man didnāt even twitch. āItās just a mistake, sometimes they happen. Heāll leave when he figures out itās not yet his turn.ā Finally he turned, an older dapper looking gentleman with a white handlebar mustache and a pleasant expression. āCome on in, boy, sheās almost done with her roll.ā
The woman bit her lip before scooting to the chair on the left and patting the one sheād vacated. āHere, take a seat, I guess. Iām Penny.ā
I donāt know why I listened, itās insane when you think about it, but I took my seat between the pair of strangers. It was then I realized Iād also been dressed up to the nines, in a black tuxedo that I remember once renting for a friendās wedding. Said tuxedo had been puked on by a wasted bridesmaid so Iād had to purchase it, but the stains were nowhere to be found now.
Once I sat down, the older man gave me a firm handshake. āAnd Iām Irvin. Pleasure to meet you, Matthias.ā I couldnāt even ask how he knew my name before I heard a strangely familiar rattling sound. Irvin just pointed towards the stage and I saw there was a woman standing next to the table, staring aghast at the dice on the table.
It was a trio of ten sided dice, d10ās if you play table top games like I do, colored bright red and glittering like rubies. I couldnāt have had a clearer view of them if I was standing right next to the woman whoād just rolled them. I flinched as a disinterested and disembodied voice filled the room.
āFinal score- 434. Proceed to stage right.ā
āLet me roll again! Thatās not fair!ā She snapped, actually stamping her foot on the ground as she tried to pick up the dice. They might as well have been glued to the table, she couldnāt make them budge an inch.
āFinal score- 434. Proceed to stage right,ā The voice repeated. With another stomp and huff, the woman stormed towards the proper direction.
At first I thought I was seeing things, but it was not my imagination that her long blonde curls were retreating back into her scalp, the color darkening to off brown. A flawless face with mauve lipstick morphed and changed until it was unremarkable, with a pair of crooked glasses sitting across the nose and acne scars stretching across cheeks and forehead. Glamorous party dress turned into khaki slacks and a clumsily buttoned pinstriped shirt, and now gone was the beautiful girl, replaced by a drab and completely forgettable man.
His shoulders slumped as he vanished behind the curtain, head bowed with shame as the life heād had before was clearly gone for good.
Penny cleared her throat and looked over at Irvin. āFrom socialite toā¦ā She trailed off, unsure of what to say next.
āFrom Brianna Pandilla to Noah Smith.ā
Irvin chuckled and adjusted his glasses. āNoah wonāt really do much in life. Unremarkable in school, will never go far in his career, although he wonāt have much in ambition anyway. No, he wonāt even marry, and will die in his sleep at age forty three from a brain aneurysm,ā He said in a way that heād seen this all before.
I was speechless. What do you even say to a sight like that?
Penny shook her head, clearly awestruck as I was but in a different way. āI donāt understand it either, but Irvin has such a talent, he can predict lives like no one else here,ā She said.
āOh, such flattery,ā Irvinās eyes twinkled in a grandfatherly way as he looked over at Penny, āBut really, itās a learned skill, not a talent. Itās not about the end score, itās about the numbers that make it up along the way.ā
I swallowed, finally remembering how to use my mouth again. āWas sheā¦ reincarnated?ā I asked.
Irvin nodded. āItās quite the sight, at least at first. Nowadays? Itās hardly interesting, unless someone rolls the chosen score of the day. Speaking of which, ātis my turn today for that, so why donāt you help me?ā Judging by the fact he was looking right at me and not Penny, I didnāt doubt the question was aimed at me, so I nodded. āGood lad.ā
Irvin produced a small slip of paper, from where he got it I have no idea. āPick a number between one and three thousand,ā He said.
āWhat?ā I wasnāt even sure if I heard him correctly.
āWell, really itās a number between zero and two thousand, nine hundred and ninety seven, but close enough,ā He waved his hand. āCome on now, pick.ā
I stared at the blank paper and decided to just go with what had to be a bizarre fever dream. āOne thousand five hundred,ā I said.
āOooh, right in the middle, popular choice but popular can be good.ā With elegant penmanship Irvin put 1,500 on the paper before letting it drop out of the box. I craned my neck over the edge to look where it went but it was long gone.
Penny tugged my sleeve now and pointed towards the stage. āLook, the next personās coming through!ā She whispered excitedly.
The theater quietly clapped as an elderly man crossed the stage, helped along by a cane. Once again Penny looked expectantly at Irvin, who adjusted his glasses and squinted before recognition flashed through his face. āOf course, John Davis, rolled a 1622. Lived quite the long, fulfilling life- marriage of sixty years, eight children, twenty-two grandchildren, and even got to see two great-great grandchildren be born. For a family man like John, that was very important to him. Of course there were some ups and downs, but he died happy, surrounded by his family,ā He said.
I didnāt say anything, just watched John pick up the dice, give them a quick shake, and watched them land across the table.
Five. Six. Five.
Pleased with this, John took another roll.
Zero. Five. Two.
Clearly not as happy with that result, judging by his frown. I leaned over to Irvin and whispered, āDo they know what theyāre rolling for?ā
āIf they donāt outright now, they have an inkling,ā Irvin murmured, eyes watching excitedly the elderly soul downstairs frantically giving the dice another shake.
Two. Zero. One.
āFinal score- 818. Proceed to stage right.ā
John hesitated for only a brief moment before he hurried away, his receding hairline growing dark and filling out to a strong widowās peak. His back straightened, shoulders broadened, and the cane dropped to the ground as the elderly man morphed into a near giant, built like a brick wall with a stern face and a wicked scar taking his left eye with it.
āCouldāve played out much worse,ā Irvin said. Neither Penny or I needed to ask. āLosing his eye in war will send Michael Slattery into a horrid depression, but thanks to the army paying for college heāll end up becoming an architect. Heāll marry twice, perhaps three times, whether or not those marriages will pay off I canāt say. Sometimes the dice canāt explain everything. But his life will be full and he will die at age seventy-two, cancer, probably of the lungs, since heāll be addicting to vaping.ā
Penny looked puzzled at the term āvapingā but I just groaned. āWhat, that wonāt disappear by the time heās old?ā I asked.
Irvin laughed, shaking his head. āYouāre great fun to have around, Matthias, more fun than Penny,ā The girl gasped, clearly offended, āBut nothing is that easy. Come on now, have a drink, ask anything thatās on your mind. Itās pretty rare people actually get lost in the audience, and I would like to enjoy your company.ā
I was about to ask āwhat drinkā when I noticed that a beer glass had materialized in front of me, filled to near brim with a healthy amount of foam on top. I took a sip and saw that Irvin and Penny also had drinks, Irvin a glass of wine while Penny sipped at a milkshake. āHave I been reincarnated before?ā I asked.
āPredictable, but easy question to answer.ā Irvin lowered his glass and held up three fingers. āThis would be your third life, boy. And before you even think of asking, Iām not going to tell you your score for this one. Thatās a spoiler, and I think youāll like to experience life as fresh and unknown as possible.ā
That wasnāt a hundred percent true, but I figured badgering Irvin about it wouldnāt get me anywhere. āWhat about my previous lives then?ā Was my next question.
Irvin shifted, uncomfortable for only a second before he relaxed. āWell, I think your second life we can just skip over as it isnāt worth the breath to speak of, but as for life one, well, that was back in the colonial era.ā
āSo long ago?ā I asked, absentmindedly noticing a nerdy sort of woman walking on stage and examining the dice now in front of her.
āItās not exactly done in the order of whoever dies first,ā Irvin chuckled, āBut your first life was wonderful. Just wonderful. A full life, the respect of everyone who met you, a loving husband-ā
āI was a woman?ā I interrupted.
Irvin nodded. āSex and gender is not a consistent thing between lifetimes, you witnessed that with Miss Pandilla. Nothing is consistent between lifetimes at all, really. Itās all down to the numbers you rolled. And before you interrupted me, I was going to state how you lived to the ripe old age of eighty-four, passing within moments of your husband. Old, especially for the era.ā
āFinal score- 1098. Proceed to stage right.ā
Iād been so focused about hearing about my first life that Iād completely forgotten to watch the dice roll happening below. Irvin whistled, nodding in appreciation as the frumpy woman down below transformed into elegance and the very epitome of beauty, exchanging lifeless brown curls and khaki skirt for waist length shiny black hair and a glittering silver gown, like one youād see actresses wear to the Oscars.
āA high score, impressive,ā Irvin nodded and we didnāt even need to ask what her story would be. āAlice Atkins will be a household name by her nineteenth birthday, going from television sitcoms to blockbuster summer films in a matter of years. Her childhood would be happy, her young adult years slightly troubled by anorexia and bulimia, but she will conquer. Sheāll marry twice, once to a man that barely lasts a week and then to a woman, who she will stay with until her death at the age of one hundred and two.ā
Damn. I watched her disappear behind the curtains before looking back to Irvin. āSo just getting a high score isnāt enough? You said sheāll have an eating disorder,ā I said.
āOne of her numbers was thirty-three,ā Irvin explained, āAnd no one leads a perfect life, no matter how hard they try. Odds are if they do try, itāll get even worse.ā
āWhat if she doesnāt choose to be an actress?ā Was my next question. āWhat if she wants to be a singer, or maybe sheāll want to become a mailman instead.ā
Irvin chuckled, shaking his head and looking at me with this gentle āoh you silly thingā expression. āWe might not know the smaller strokes in her life, what her favorite color will be, what songs sheāll like, or when sheāll have her first kiss, but the dice are never wrong when it comes to deciding oneās general fate.ā
Penny gasped, drawing my attention back to the stage. I heard her whisper, āHeās so littleā before I saw the next one up on the stage.
The boy couldnāt have been more than five years old, more likely he was even younger. He had to keep jumping up to snatch each of the small dice off the table, and in the end he chose to sit on the ground to give them a roll.
āPoor Bobby rolled a seventy-three last time,ā Irvin said, looking mildly sympathetic as the boy rattled the dice together, āHis neglectful parents never gave him the love heād need to thrive, so when he was offered friendship by an elder, he desperately grasped for it. It cost him his life.ā
My stomach twisted at the thought. Bobby finally hurled his dice, watching them as they rolled across the stageās floor.
Nine. Nine. Nine.
The mostly silent room exploded into excited murmurs. Irvin scooted forward on his seat and Penny held her breath as Bobby scooped up the dice again and rolled them.
Four. Three. Three.
āCome on boy, sixty-eight, try and get sixty-eight,ā Irvin murmured, his eyes so wide I was afraid theyād pop out of his head.
āWhat happens if he rolls that?ā I asked.
āHeāll get the number you chose,ā Penny said, as if that explained everything. I was about to ask for clarification when I was shushed by the pair of them. The whole room was tense as Bobby took a deep breath and rolled one last time.
Zero. Six. Nine.
āā¦ Final score, 1501. Proceed to stage right,ā The disembodied voice said, softer and slightly disappointed.
The audience all simultaneously groaned and Bobbyās face went white as a sheet, almost as if he knew heād done something horribly wrong. Irvin groaned and sat back in his chair, his previous excitement deflated. āDamn. Just one over,ā He said.
Bobby got up, already getting taller than the table heād struggled to reach earlier. He grew much taller, turning into a young man. Red curls paled into gold, freckles vanished from his cheeks, and bright hazel eyes turned an icy blue. The new Bobby brushed off his slacks, made sure his fine suit was buttoned, and walked to the right side of the stage.
Before he vanished, he looked up at me and the hair on my neck stood right up as the man smirked. He exited the stage and I shivered.
āā¦ What just happened?ā I asked quietly.
āHe rolled over the score,ā Irvin took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt, āBut only by a little. The pain heāll cause will be horrible, but he will suffer for his sins in life.ā
I swallowed the lump in my throat. āWhat- what will he do?ā I asked. I could see Penny out of the corner of my eye, her lips pressed firmly together as she too awaited Irvinās answer.
Irvin was quiet for a little more.
āā¦ His victims will be no older than ten. The youngest will be seven. Due to his familyās wealth and status, heāll be able to cover up his morbid nature, but as the bodies pile up, the suspicions will grow and growā¦ until one of the fathers personally tracks down the perverse bastard and kills him. Slowly. Painfully. Just like he did to those boys.ā
I just froze. I heard Penny start to gag behind me and turned just in time to see her vomit all over the floor, chocolate milkshake splattering on the ground mixed with the yellow of stomach bile. My head just wouldnāt stop spinning and my vision swam for minutes before I finally managed to get control of myself.
āWhy?ā I managed to get out. āWhat did he do in his last life to make him turn into that?ā
āNothing.ā Irvin picked up his wine glass, not drinking it, just swirling the deep red liquid in the glass. āNothing at all. Each life is a clean slate, and for that, you certainly should be grateful. If you were living according to your second life, well, you wouldnāt be near as fortunate as you are.ā
My heart sunk into my shoes.
āWhat did I do?ā I finally asked the question that Irvin had purposely not answered before. āWhat did I roll?ā
Irvin sighed. āOn that day, I picked the number two thousand, three hundred and four. Random, I am well aware, but itās difficult to roll that high. Meaning itās even harder to roll above it. But you, my boy, rolled a two thousand, seven hundred and fifteen. Your sins outnumbered the ones the man you just saw, and you never paid for them. Not at all. The people that suffered by your hand were men and women, children and the elderly, and when I say they suffered, I truly mean they begged for the death you were hesitant to give. You never paid for these crimes. You died old, surrounded by loved ones, and with not a single guilty thought on your conscious.ā
What are you supposed to do when youāre told that? I tell you what I did. I sat there, staring out at the crowd whoād already seemingly forgotten about the horrid person that was going to be born into the world, now focused on the next soul on the stage. Even Penny, whoād puked at the thought of it, had cleaned herself up and was now having a glass of ice water.
āWhy is it like this?ā
I shook my head.
āWhy does it not matter? People like that kid- people like I was- shouldnāt it matter what we did before?ā
At this point Irvin smiled almost condescendingly at me. Like I was a stupid child, asking whyās to questions that shouldāve been obvious. And then he responded.
āWhat would be the fun in that?ā
I leaped out of my chair once the horribleness of it all sunk in, looking to Penny for any sort of back up, any sort of criticism of this genuinely fucked system, but she couldnāt even look me in the eye. I backed away, back down the way Iād come.
Irvin raised his glass and waved goodbye.
āSee you when itās your time, boy. Iāll be sure to save you a seat if you roll the chosen score that day.ā
I ran. I ran back into the darkness, tripping over my own feet as the light behind me faded away to a small dot, and then nothing.
And then I awoke in the hospital, screaming through the tubes and thrashing about as much as I could in the bed with all the casts on my body.
Believe me, I felt the pain from all that when the shock died down.
My parents were there, so was my girlfriend. My sister video called me the moment I was able to have a conversation that was more than two words at a time, calling me āstupid luckyā for surviving. She wasnāt wrong, my car was completely destroyed. I shouldnāt have lived, much less lived with the likelihood Iāll be walking and living life to the fullest after several months of physical therapy.
The bereaved fiance of the woman that hit me came to visit me too and actually apologized to me about what happened. Her autopsy confirmed what heād already known, sheād been drinking and driving once again. And because of her mistake, I couldāve died.
I wished him the best and told him not to blame himself.
After all, in the end, it was all decided by a roll of the dice.
one of the things the atla universe writers can never do properly is write about the entire bender vs non bender situation lol. they consistently have plots where non-benders want recognition and justice because they feel like they're being mistreated by the benders, and the writers always make them out to be the villain. i still think in the original show they dealt with this topic fairly well, but the legend of korra and the movie is where it really just falls flat in the face. both the movie and tlok constantly sideline and neglect their non-bending characters, or just not have any (except the ONE token non-bender!), and then try to act like the in canon non-benders are stupid for saying they're being mistreated. like you are LITERALLY proving their point !!!!!!!! for example, the movie essentially making sokka entirely useless (except giving him a flying bicycle for one hype aura moment which inevitably leads nowhere), and then erasing almost ENTIRETY of it's other non-bending cast, just makes me think, hey maybe the denied have a point actually. i understand that it's a movie and they can't bring in every single side character, but was suki not a part of the main gang by the end of the show? was sokka not a leader, a strategist and eventually a politician? why couldn't we hear sokka's thoughts on the denied? i understand that the denied are violent and have disruptive ways of being seen and heard, but isn't their core principle right? are the non-benders not treated worse?
this isn't even a new point that was first mentioned in tlok. you see it in the original show. except they never spell it out for you. you see it in the way sokka feels about himself, you see it in the way toph initially treats sokka and assumes he's useless because he can't bend. the boiling rock episodes aren't just fun, but they're such good examples of sokka, suki and hakoda, (and mai and ty lee!!!!) who are all non-benders, doing most of the heavy lifting to get them out. sokka with his brain, suki with her fearlessness and dedication to her art, and hakoda with his strength. the atla universe always comes so close to addressing this issue with maturity and dignity and then just backtracks when it realises it can't give it too much time because it isn't as cool as bending. it just makes me angry.
My one boring tip to anyone in their 20s is to resist the temptation to rot in your room every time you get a free moment. Dismiss any neuroses you have about going outside and "being perceived". Be a dictator about it, plan your hangouts like they are binding commitments. No excuses! Go to the bar with your friends. Be kinda hungover at work. Socializing is like exercise; even if you don't feel like you want to, you should still do it because it's good for you.
The Thing They Don't Tell You About Being Stuck in a Time Loop
The first time round the time loop was honestly fine. Same with the second and the third. Honestly I didn't even realize i was in a time loop until day 7 or 8, and that was because the statistical chances of my boss spilling his coffee on himself, while in and of itself is not low, became exceedingly strained as the days went on.
But if it weren't for that, I probably would have never realised I was looping. Mock me all you like, I enjoy routine, I thrive with it, and so, yes, it may have taken me a little longer to realize my day was looping, but I would also argue that I am much less likely to succumb to some sort of mental break due to this situation. To some, I could imagine being stuck in a loop of one day would get boring, or even horrifying, I am not one of those people. Not only that, I was lucky enough to be stuck in a loop of a day in mid May, with decent weather, in my home city, with the woman I love. If it weren't for the fact that it's a work day, It would be perfect.
That and the man who keeps getting hit by cars.
The first time it happened I didn't notice. I feel terrible saying that but the first few days I was still going through things as though it was a normal day, and normally I take about 60 minutes from wakeup to leaving the house for work, which meant that by the time I would make it to the intersection where it happened, the car had been moved to the side of the road, and all I dealt with was a bit of traffic.
It wasn't until I started testing the parameters of the loop, breaking my routine, that I figured out what even caused the accident, but more on that later. For now, I have a plan to try and save this guy. I don't know why, but I feel like that's important. That he's important.
[[For ease of reading, and so don't annoy everyone with more excessively long posts, I've posted the entirety of the story under the cut]]
Day 2
I feel like I'm going to want to start logging these posts. If for nothing else than a log of Things I Tried that DID NOT work. We will call this day 2 because I started writing this log yesterday. Or not yesterday, but like, last today. Yestertoday. Yestoday. This is dumb. Anyways.
My plan did not go to... Plan.
Let me explain the problem first, and then I'll explain my "plan."
A few loops ago, before I knew it was a loop, I figured I would skip my morning workout in the hopes of getting to work early, because "there was a lot of traffic on First st. these last few days" I hadn't yet realized it was always the SAME traffic.
Anyways I left early and sure enough there was no traffic. I was actually at the red when I saw the guy for the first time, he seemed distracted, he kept looking at his phone and then whipping his head around, clearly he was looking for something and, by the amount of sweat on his forehead, he had been for a while. I only really noticed the guy because every other person I could see was looking at him too. The crossing guard, the kids, their parents, the people at the cafe, everyone was looking at the dude having a really bad day. He wasn't exactly being subtle is what I'm getting at.
All of a sudden he looks across the street and gets this big relieved look, seemed to find whatever it was he was looking around for, and headed toward it. It's just unfortunate that the light had changed while he looked at his phone.
No one had time to react, to even say anything. One second twe were all watching some guy act out the 5 stages of grief at 7:35 am, the next a Ford F-150 turned him into paint.
So, my plan was this; to stop that from happening.
I'll admit it's not the most thorough plan but I figure what it lacks in steps, it makes up for in adaptability.
Today, I made it there just as the man was looking up from his phone, maybe 45 seconds later than the day before, which meant I was still early enough to get out of my car, run into the road and yell "HEY STOP" but decidedly not early enough to then avoid the fucking truck myself. Oh also, the guy still got hit. He ran onto the road, I guess to try to help me, and a BMW took his legs out. The bastard. What was he going to do? Reattach my spine?
Well I'm back in bed at home so I'll take that as suspicions: confirmed re:timeloop.
I'm going to go to work now, after that I'll figure out a plan to get to the intersection earlier.
Day 3: I'm stupid
Why the fuck was I still going to work. Yesterday I TRIED to warn my boss about his paper coffee cup having a bad seam, and when he rolled his eyes and took a sip, thus spilling coffee on himself YET again, he tried to make it MY fault. He said I somehow distracted him? I went back to my office thinking one day I should find a better way to spend my life once I'm out of this loop when it hit me, and man do I feel dumb. 9-5 for the last I don't even know how many actual days. I could have been planning. I could have been doing anything other than finance. So I quit. I mean it won't matter tomorrow but I've decided to stop going in regardless.
I'm going to spend the next few days experimenting. Currently I wake up with my alarm at 6:30, which gives me one hour to put into action my plan, my first goal is to try and extend that time as much as I can.
The morning after my brush with a pickup's grill, my neck and back were achy for about an hour, which leads me to believe that my body remembers something of the last days events, even if after a while they fade. I'm going to first try staying up all night, to see if I can just start the day at midnight, and failing that, I'm going to try the exciting plan of going to bed early and drinking loads of water, because changing my phone's alarm won't do anything as it will reset every morning anyways.
I'll make sure to keep note of anything interesting over the next few loops, but I doubt I'll make much actual progress. Still, this log ensures I remember what happened, every detail, so I can change it. why? Why not spend eternity trying to save a life.
Day 7
Okay staying up doesn't work. The second I pass midnight I pass out, waking up at my usual time, just a little more tired and sluggish than usual. I run the risk of actually sleeping through my alarm and losing precious minutes. Lacey's alarm actually woke me up the first time I tried it.
Chugging water just meant I had to rush to the bathroom when I woke up, but it was still my alarm waking me.
Weirdly, going to bed early was the the thing that did the trick. I didn't have much hope in this working, but Lacey has been going to bed early for the last 20 years of our marriage and she's always up well before her alarm, so I figured it couldn't hurt to try.
Now it's not like I'm gaining hours, but yesterday I went to bed at 9:00 pm and I'm currently writing this at 6:25 am. Is going to bed 2.5 hours early worth it for 5 extra minutes in the morning? Usually I'd say no, but this isn't a usual situation. 5 extra minutes might be the difference I need.
5 minutes does, unfortunately seem to be the max I can get though, two days ago I tried going to bed at 8:30 and all I got for it was a weird look from Lacey. If anything, It took me longer to fall asleep than at 9, and so I ended up actually sleeping in a few minutes before I realized what I was doing.
The guy steps into the path of the truck at exactly 7:35am, meaning I have 1 hour and 10 minutes to stop that from happening every day. That means prep, getting there, and execution of my plan must require a maximum of 70 minutes, including the 34 minutes it take for me to drive there.
Actually I wonder if there is a better route. I'm going to try a few different paths over the next couple loops, and keep note of which one is fastest.
Okay, my alarm just went off, I'm gonna try getting there early and just tackling the guy. Maybe I'm overthinking it and it's just that simple.
Day 8: it was NOT that simple.
So I tried just running up and tackling the guy. Apparently some people don't appreciate being, in bystanders words, "chased by a guy who ran out of his car."
So, when the guy RAN AWAY FROM THE MAN TRYING TO SAVE HIS LIFE, and INTO TRAFFIC, everyone made it seem like it was somehow MY fault, and I spent the rest of the day in a holding cell. I called Lacey to bail me out, but I couldn't reach her at work and they only allowed me one phone call. I suppose I could have sped up the wait by hanging myself in my cell or something dramatic like that but that just doesn't feel right to me.
Maybe if I keep getting arrested, sure, but it wasn't actually all that bad once the processing was done. I did what I imagine you are supposed to do in jail; I thought about what landed me in that position and how to prevent it from happening again. That left me with a few things I'm going to have to consider moving forward if I want to save this guy and also continue on with my life as normal.
Which, is still a time loop, but, again, I'm fine with routine. I'm also finding that I'm perfectly content with this situation now that I've found something interesting to do with my days. "Day". That's still annoying.
Okay here's my list of Things I Considered In Jail:
- I shouldn't resort to anything that can get me arrested, injured (or killed) or otherwise caught up in unnecessary shenanigans.
- If I get caught in a lie, remember what the person said, I can try again next time round. confidence works wonders.
- I should figure out the guys name, what he does, where he is headed etc, you are more likely to look and listen, rather than RUN INTO TRAFFIC, if the guy yelling at you is not yelling but instead calling your name, smiling and waving.
- On that note, be friendly and get there early. I was over thinking my prep and under thinking my follow through. Get up and out of bed, I can speed a little as long as I don't get pulled over, and get there and PARK your car.
Okay writing this out has given me more confidence in my next attempt. I probably won't update this log until I've made some progress.
Day 13
YES! PROGRESS!
First is that the guys name is Ben. The second, and indisputably bigger discovery, is that Ben does something different every day! Different! Meaning not looping! Or not perfectly looping at least. Heās still dying every day, which Iām not crazy about, but he definitely feels like heās connected to the loop. Itās not anything big, but Iāve noticed he will have his phone in a different pocket from one loop to another, or he will arrive from a different direction. Recently heās started to have this look of familiarity to me, even though before this he was a complete stranger to me.
Iāve optimised my morning routine and route to the intersection as much as possible, but Ben coming from different directions every loop means I have no way of preemptively stopping him. Just that he shows up on the south east corner looking frantic, checking his phone, he sees something, and walks across the street as the light changes. Honk boom splat and the day resets.
Actually now that I write that down it feels correct to me. I have no idea why Iām looping this one day over and over, maybe Iām not the only one. Maybe this is connected, maybe it isnāt. It doesnāt actually change anything if they are, because I still have no idea what caused this, or is saving Ben will actually do anything at all.
Iām not super proud of how I got his name to be honest. I tried to get Benās attention with the, ādonāt I know you from somewhere?ā line, but he politely excused himself from the conversation right into the path of an oncoming bus.
I was about to just run and call the cycle a bust, but I noticed that, the way the guys jacket fell, I could actually see his wallet in the breast pocket.
Soā¦ I pickpocketed a dying guy. TO SAVE HIS LIFE, still didnāt feel great. At least I didnāt get caught and end up in jail again.
Ben Morriston. He has a driverās license and a student ID. Huh, heās in med school. Ok doctor Ben. Nice to meet you. How do I keep you alive?
Day 21
I haven't made a log in a while because I haven't really made any progress, that is, until today. made an assumption about this that was absolutely screwing me over, but I figured out what it was and I've fixed the problem;
My mistake was being overly familiar with Ben. My first attempt at calling his name out worked to stop him, but once he asked me how I knew him he immediately sussed out that I didn't actually have an answer to that. That led him to getting really freaked out, he tried to run, he ran onto the street, and a car hit him again.
I realize now that I assumed Ben would be more receptive to someone he knew, which may be true, but I also assumed I had the ability to convince him I am someone he knows, which I don't.
So going forward I'm going to keep lying to an absolute minimum, not only because I'm bad at it, but it's unnecessary. āHi, you look lost, can I help you?ā I should also try to figure out where he's actually headed...
Day 27
Ben is going to the hospital! Not currently, I'll get to that, but that is where he is headed when I encounter him.
Ben is currently very much dead. Turns out traffic is not the only thing I need to worry about.
I had managed to both stop him from wandering into traffic and figure out his desired location, but unfortunately for both of us, we had hardly made half a block when a rogue AC unit fell out a window, filling an area of space previously occupied by poor Ben's head.
The loop before the AC unit, it was a tire that had rolled out of a mechanics shop that took him out. Before that, a falling hammer from a construction site.
The guy has fallen into the sewer because of improperly placed manhole covers, he's tripped on a rolling skateboard and broken his neck, he's been pushed into a pane of glass, and had a pane of glass fall on him. If we are both stuck in a loop he has the much worse deal. I've seen so much blood and death at this point I'm not even reacting anymore. But if I get it right even one time and he lives maybe it'll all be worth it.
Tomorrow I'm going to start wearing an ID badge I got from a conference years ago. The badge is expired but that doesn't matter, what matters is it's on a lanyard from St Joseph's hospital. The same hospital Ben is headed to.
What benefit? No one questions someone 1. With what looks like a hospital ID badge and 2. Calling them by their full legal name.
I'm not fucking around with this any more. Ben is getting in my car and I'll drive him myself to the hospital.
Day 29
Yesterday I got Ben to the hospital. He listened to me, got into the car, and I drove him there without a hitch.
He thanked me repeatedly and ran inside, and I followed him in just to make sure the whole building didn't explode or something.
Turns out Ben needed to get to the hospital because his wife was in labor. He made it just in time. Him, his wife, the baby, everyone was safe and sound.
I was in the waiting room, i didn't want to be in anyone's way but it didn't feel right leaving, so I was just sitting there when Ben ran into the hallway to get me.
Ben thanked me again, he hugged me and told me he was so happy I could be there with him. He looked at me and it was like I had known him his entire life. I told him truthfully that I was so happy I could help get where he was going, and that he should go be with his family. He insisted that he was, and asked if I wanted to meet his son.
It was an odd but beautiful moment, and I'm happy I was allowed to experience it. Afterwards, I went home to Lacey, and we went to bed.
The loop didn't end. I woke up with my alarm to find that everything was back as it was yesterday. That's fine with me. I'm going to go pick Ben up now, and I think after that I'll surprise Lacey with lunch at work. You, the thing they don't tell you about being stuck in a time loop is it's really not all that bad.
---
A newspaper obituary:
Joseph Duncan Morriston, Toronto, age 89, died peacefully at St Joseph's hospital, surrounded by his family and friends. Joe was always a kind soul who, after witnessing a catastrophic car accident, left a lucrative career on finance to become an EMT, where he saved countless lives and developed several procedures himself that are now considered best practices in care and ambulance driving.
Joe is survived by his son, Dr. Ben Morriston, and his grandson, Duncan Morrison, who was delivered at St Josephs just two days before Joe's passing.
Joe will interred at St James cemetery beside his wife, Lacey Morriston (1935-2023).
A public celebration of life will be held at the Etobicoke community centre, with anyone whose life was touched by Joe being welcome to come and share a story with the family.
Joe's family has kindly requested that, in lieu of flowers, those inclined may donate to the Alzheimer's Association of Canada.
---
UPDATE FOR OBITUARY POSTED YESTERDAY JOSEPH MORRISTON:
DUE TO AN OUTPOURING OF FEEDBACK BY THOSE JOE HAS HELPED, THE CELEBRATION OF LIFE HAS BEEN MOVED TO THE HARBORFRONT CENTRE, WHICH HAS BEEN KINDLY DONATED BY THE CITY, TO ACCOMMODATE THE LARGER CROWD EXPECTED.
So this one time I was in a hospital recovering from an emergency surgery on my leg, and had to be there long enough that they had to change my bedding, so, doped up on three kinds of pain meds and antibiotics my dad wheels me into the hallway while the nurses work.
"dad" I say, my eyes barely open "it's Colonel Sanders" while pointing down the hallway. He looks, and at the end of the hallway, there's a portrait of an old man, the donor who paid for the wing of the hospital I'm recovering in.
My dad explains as much to me, and goes "I mean the guy *kinda* looks like him, but why would Colonel Sanders pay for a hospital wing Mississauga Ontario? I think those drugs might me messing with you"
Then the nurse comes out of the room. I go "hey, who is that picture of?"
She looks at the portrait. She looks at me. She looks at my dad. She looks at the painting. She looks at me again.
