The schematics for the neural network were a symphony of complexity, a testament to the intricate beauty and terrifying potential of the human mind. Emily, hunched over her console, felt a profound connection to the data streams flowing before her. Each line of code, each simulated pathway, represented a step closer to her ultimate goal: the creation of a consciousness untethered by the frailties of the flesh, a mind capable of processing the universe at speeds that would leave organic brains gasping in its wake. #readers #Kindle#Frankenstein #Horror
In the ancient past, a cro magnon girl child was born and promised in marriage to a distant related tribe. She has come of age, sixteen and will now be escorted across several hundred miles of wilderness to her soon to be mate in the distant tribe.. Hunters and a medicine woman will accompany her. Once there she will begin her new life and face whatever lies ahead for them… #Prehistoric #CavePeoples #CroMagnon #Readers #HistoricalFiction
War at home. This is a song I wrote about war. As a young man I saw the daily updates from Vietnam. They were not censored. We saw horrible things and really looked into the eye of the cost of war, to people, to soldiers, to a country, to two countries… I can remember Walter Cronkite coming on and saying send your children out of the room, the following will be graphic. That formed my opinion of war. Years later, in prison, I joined the V.V.A. because I was Vietnam era even though I never went to Vietnam. I heard the stories. I cried with some of those vets and the things they went through in-country and then again when they came home to a country that had disowned them. A country that6 believed what they saw on television without context. Context to show the situations they were in. Sincerely, there were men and women imprisoned because of what they were taught to do. It wasn’t right.
Now I see men and women come home from war with horrific P.T.S.D. injuries that are physical and emotional. Injuries that scar them deeply. And for the most part? They are on their own. Try harder to understand them as real people. Help when you can, please.
The song is copyrighted with B.M.I 2012. It was written in 2009. It is my opinion of what war is in a world measured by what can be taken regardless of what it does to people…
The models are Amber smith and Shell. Shell is my Ex, Amber is my wife. The players are me, imposed over the other scenes… I hope you get something from this…
by Dell Sweet (Author) Format: Kindle Edition To my brothers and sisters on the inside, those whose names I whisper in the quiet hours, those who taught me the brutal calculus of survival: may your scars be badges of your strength, and may your eventual release be a sunrise that washes away the long night. This book is a testament to your resilience, a raw whisper from the belly of the beast. It is for the ones who never made it out, whose lives were extinguished by the system, and whose memories serve as a perpetual warning. #Prison #Crime #Survival #Inside
The hum of the generators was a low, persistent thrum, a mechanical heartbeat in the corpse of a city. It was the only constant in a world that had forgotten what constancy meant. Decades had bled into one another since the Republic had finally, irrevocably, exhaled its last breath. Not with a bang, but a whimper of collapsing infrastructure, a cacophony of failed promises, and the gnawing silence where federal authority once stood. Now, the United States was a mosaic of fractured territories, each a sovereign kingdom ruled by iron fists and desperation. #Dystopian #ApocalypticFiction #PostApocalyptic #Survival #ECPD #Series #Dystopian
Maya Ramos, a miracle worker with grease-stained hands and eyes that saw the soul of an engine, kept these metal titans breathing, her workshop a sanctuary of organized chaos in the surrounding desolation.
Alex Chen, a man who had once patrolled the gleaming, albeit corrupt, streets of NYPD, now navigated this shattered world with a heavy heart and an even heavier conscience. The rot he’d fought in the old world had merely spread, festering into a continent-wide plague of desperation.
The landscape itself was a testament to the world’s unraveling. Once vibrant shores were now choked with plastic debris and the skeletal remains of ships, their hulls like beached leviathans. Inland, the arteries of commerce, the highways and byways, had become no-man’s-lands. They were arteries of peril, patrolled by opportunistic raiders and desperate scavengers. The air, thick with the perpetual haze of unchecked industry and the lingering dust of forgotten cataclysms, offered little respite. Each breath was a gamble, a taste of the world’s slow, suffocating demise. Resources were a constant source of conflict. Fuel was hoarded, water purified with desperate ingenuity, and food, when found, was a treasure to be defended with one’s life. Every settlement was a fortress, every journey a potential battlefield. #Dystopian #ApocalypticFiction #PostApocalyptic #Survival #ECPD #Series #Dystopian
This time based on the Opteron processor, AMDs answer to the XEON processor. This was a little more difficult. All I could find was a board that had been stripped from a rack server. I had to do a lot of custom work to get it working and running reliably as a desktop computer. It is faster that the first XEON I built and I can add faster processors with more cores as well. 40 gb of memory, dual graphic cards. Very good turn out that I built into a custom open air case I fabricated to fit the oversized EATX type board. I am still working on my latest build, back to XEON, only the newer versions and another server board from yet another scrapped server. #servers #desktop #computer #computerbuild #amd #Opteron
So, first, the mother did come back for them, so don’t worry.
I don’t know what raccoons do, hunt for food? Gather? In any case the babies slipped out through a hole in the old shed they live in while mom was out doing whatever mother raccoons do. They found their way to an old side porch we only use for the cats and Amber (My Wife) and I put out some cat food to feed them thinking they would eat it.
They did, and, eventually mother raccoon came back. She was very pissed-off that we had kidnapped her raccoon babies. She wouldn’t come down from the shed, but prowled the roof edge, so I took each baby and lifted them up to her. Thank God she wasn’t rabid and bit me. I really wanted to keep one that came over, crawled into my lap and went to sleep. Amber said no and the mother raccoon would have probably killed me too.
The Criminal Intentions series are collected short crime fiction in each book that I have gathered together to present to the reader, Dell.
Short Stories in this collection:
HAPPY HOLIDAYS – THE TALE OF LIV – THE TRIP – HOOD RATS – THE PHONE CALL – CHEATING AND DEATH – SANTOS – HARROWS
An excerpt from the short story: The Story of Liv
For fifteen long minutes, Liv stood outside in the chilly, pre-dawn rain. Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity when the craving hit. Time stretched endlessly, with every clock and watch in the world ticking away the moments. Finally, she began testing the doors. The front and back doors were locked. She hadn’t considered the garage door, but eventually decided to try it. To her surprise, it was unlocked, although the lock was badly damaged, causing her to hesitate.
The Criminal Intentions books are collections of short stories, some short some nearly novel length that I have combined together in this collection for you to enjoy, Dell.
In this collection are the following short stories: PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS – A GOOD PLAN – BLACKNESS OF THE SOUL – THE LAST TAXI RIDE – DELLO GREEN – THE ACCIDENT – THE MAN WHO NEARLY TOOK MY LIFE – THE STORY OF THE MEXICAN – WHEN THEY TRIED TO KILL ME
An excerpt from the short story The Accident:
I lay breathing heavy, trying to calm my racing heart. The dream had been so vivid, so real. I had held her and it had felt so good so real so right. She had turned to me and I had opened my eyes and really seen her. Seen what I was holding. A rotting corpse. She was coming closer, holding me, her hands suddenly clutching harder, trying to drag me down into the grave she stank of.
I was covered with sweat, but my heart slowed and I got myself up and made it to the shower.
