@WhiteExodite
wah!
learning as i go.
disciple of Christ | elf supremacist | certified hackerman | resident Ina'nis poster
favorite monstergirls: elves, mantids
Relays (1)
- wss://relay.ditto.pub – read & write
Recent Notes
i WILL get better at socializing in VC, it will happen
>i don't know why buttbabybirth.gif is such a controversial emote
and he will never understand
and he will never understand
it is funny how invested people get in box office sales and flops as if they personally will be affected by that cash flow
>getty images goes bankrupt from AI
end of an era
end of an era
btw good morning fedi
I caught up on some of the other stuff they're planning and man I hate the blue lightning Sonic has now, ruins the vibe imo
checked on Sonic Crossworlds and they dropped the price permanently to $40, Sega really does do what Nintendon't lol
I've been keeping track of each significant event in 2026 and it's been a surprisingly long year
Andrew never appreciated life as much as death. The reasoning, though disturbing, held some sobering truth to it. He had said that life, for all its splendor, was vain, and it all too often hid its true nature in deception and secrets. Only in death did a man truly become honest before his fellow man, and it was only morbidity that made one turn his face.
But not Andrew. It was remarkable how little care he seemed to give to the cadaver's dignity. He paid no mind to the distasteful looks cast his way by the officers on duty, to whom he seemed too queer to stand beside. Only Scott watched the private investigator, withholding judgement, and it was only seniority that bid him patience. He knew that Andrew, despite his eccentric mind, always produced results.
"Scott, a lead for you."
Scott bowed to look at what the man had uncovered. Perhaps it would be more apt to say what he had dissected, because Old Man Milton had a wrist sliced open. The skin had been carefully peeled, the red tendons peeled away, and the bone looked as clean as if crows had been stowed in Andrew's heavy coat. Scott had half a mind to check, but the surgical precision of Andrew's hands had never ceased to amaze him. But he had no time to marvel, deep green eyes waiting for him to spot the clue.
"No arthritis in the wrist... the veins look healthy, no trace of chemical catalysts... what do you see?"
Andrew merely tapped on the bones, and the hollow sound of them was unmistakable.
"Orinthopolymers... he was—"
"A Replicant, yes. Strange, no? A replicant that aged, retired, and lived here for 30 years past expiration would have shut him down. The true mystery, Scott, is not how Milton was killed, but when he was replaced."
But not Andrew. It was remarkable how little care he seemed to give to the cadaver's dignity. He paid no mind to the distasteful looks cast his way by the officers on duty, to whom he seemed too queer to stand beside. Only Scott watched the private investigator, withholding judgement, and it was only seniority that bid him patience. He knew that Andrew, despite his eccentric mind, always produced results.
"Scott, a lead for you."
Scott bowed to look at what the man had uncovered. Perhaps it would be more apt to say what he had dissected, because Old Man Milton had a wrist sliced open. The skin had been carefully peeled, the red tendons peeled away, and the bone looked as clean as if crows had been stowed in Andrew's heavy coat. Scott had half a mind to check, but the surgical precision of Andrew's hands had never ceased to amaze him. But he had no time to marvel, deep green eyes waiting for him to spot the clue.
"No arthritis in the wrist... the veins look healthy, no trace of chemical catalysts... what do you see?"
Andrew merely tapped on the bones, and the hollow sound of them was unmistakable.
"Orinthopolymers... he was—"
"A Replicant, yes. Strange, no? A replicant that aged, retired, and lived here for 30 years past expiration would have shut him down. The true mystery, Scott, is not how Milton was killed, but when he was replaced."