Chapter Text
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRANSPHOBIA
_______________________________________________
brontide
bron·tide |
\ ˈbrän‧ˌtīd\
plural -s
Definition of brontide
: a low muffled sound like distant thunder heard in certain seismic regions especially along seacoasts and over lakes and thought to be caused by feeble earth tremors.
_________U҉N҉A҉W҉A҉R҉E҉_________
The sound of the rain smacking harshly against the window next to them wasnt the only thing that brought them out of stasis, only them, not their companion. Out the door and through the hallway of the house they were stationed in, a distant sound of crying was surfacing through the house.
Being an FM700 model required them to assist children with their growing emotions, even if they couldn't feel the same thing the human was, so out of their holding station -their charging unit- they went. They made their way out of the room, 'feeling' how their white shorts brushed agaisnst their artificial skin.
A loud smack of thunder caked the android in surprise, this wasnt new. they were designed to stimulate human emotions to better help the young. The thunder was a distance away, so they weren't in any danger. Their pale fist relaxed and they made their way towards the childs room. Stopping in front of it, they admired the little sign on the door, reading 'Michael'. The humanoid robot grabbed the handle and opened the door an inch before asking, "May I come in?"
The small human before them answered with a quiet "Sure."
Making their way into the room, he leaned down in front of the humans bed. Taking one look at the flushed cheeks and tears, they asked if it was okay to talk.
The human told him -them, they are not human- that he was okay with it, but that everything was fine and there was no need. But they knew better than that. The human was in pain, anyone could see that.
_____INITIALIZING APPROACH_____
☐UNDERSTANDING
☐SYMPATHIZE
➤RELATION
☐INTERROGATE
_____RELATION CHOSEN---------PROCEED?_____
_____➤YES OR NO_____
_____PROCEEDING_____
Staring at the small child, he sighed. "Michael, I understand what youre going through, it will all be o-"
"I told you not to call me that! My name is Abigail, and what do you know about what im going through? Your'e just an over sized oven! You cant feel! You weren't programmed to!"
Micheal -No, Abigail- was loud. If he -She- kept up with her screaming, her mother would be woken up. The android closed their eyes for a second...
░̸̢̜̱̞̯̩̼̥̜̖̭̳̳͙̈́̊͗̌͑̊̌̾̏̓̋͘͘▒̴̦̻̗͈̙͇͇̰̂̏̽̓ͅ▓̴̻͈̹̩̦̟̲̎̌̈́́͌̈́͒̌̍█̴̡̛͎̠͓̻̻͓͎̗͈̈́͒̂̆͂̑̓̍͘͠͝ ̵̨͔̦̗̐̋͂̆̇̀̏͂̓͒͊́͠͠F̸͚̠̻͇̲̰̲̩̥͇͙̫͈̼̒͌̃̓̔͐̓͗͒̀͘͝M̴̳͈̈́̽̃̾̽͒͜͝ͅ7̶̡̛̜̣̿̿̆̀̔͌̔͘͝0̸͙͇̝̃̑̓̑͌̕͝0̶̧̡̼̤͓̭̳̻̲̲̱̚ ̷̜̻̹͗̄͛̅̀̈̂̀͐̄̚͘͘M̴̱̭̤̲͚̭͖̌͗̇̎͋̐͜͜å̶̡̡͖̃̃̂̐̔͂Ḻ̸̪̓f̸̧̨̧̧̞̙̦̞̪̳̓̏̑͋ų̴͉̠̮͕̯͙̥̹͕͎̫̂̈́̍̔̈́͐̃͝ͅN̶̡̧̲̟̱̜̤̺̺͎̫̦̯͒͊̋Ç̶̝̙̣͕̮̪̗̎͌t̴̨̪̠̱̬̿̈́̍̌̑̊̕i̶̛̺͉̩̮̳͔͍͕̝̦̩͉͉͓͆̈́̓̽̂o̷̮̯̦̥̹̯͙̤̓̔̑͑̉̇̄́̈́̊̚N̶͈̝͈̝̰͜͝ ̷̨̡̻͌̓̊̈́́̆█̸̙̩͎̊͂͆̅͒̄͆͝▓̶̛̯̞̳͔̖̙̞̒̍̆̓͐̈́̐̎͂̏̑̔́▒̸̹̟̗̥̈́̾̆͝░̵͙̺̤̖̳̙̜̖̱͓͉̃͐͘
_____RELATION F̸̮̤͗A̵͎͌̓̕I̷͈̥͋̍Ḽ̴͖͋Ẽ̶̡̆͝ͅD̶̲̟̾̀͠_____
☐UNDERSTANDING
☐SYMPATHIZE
☒RELATION
➤INTERROGATE
_____INTERROGATE CHOSEN--------PROCEED?_____
_____➤YES OR NO?_____
_____PROCEEDING_____
The machine shook their head, snow white locks falling out of place. They once again opened their eyes, asking what had happened while they were in stasis. The humans warm brown eyes met their green, as if they were having a staring contest. Finally, after what seemed like decades, the child answered.
"She just- I put up my new sign, the one that said my name ,my real name, and she wasn't happy. She called me names like.......like..."
"Like what?"
"Like tranny, o-or faggot..."
It was a rush of guilt. A simulation, yes the feeling they were experiencing was not real. They were in stasis when it happened. They couldn't have done anything.They couldnt, but the other could. Their companion, an FM200 could've. No, they didnt understand. This place was not safe for the child. It wasnt, the child couldn't stay here. Come to think of it, neither could the other android. Unlike themself, their companion had faulty skin -the result of being hit multiple times in a row- and a malfunctioning eye component. They had been there longer, they mustve had a reason not to intervene. The human was no different, bruises and scars scattered across her skin. The darker scars had little contrast to her already dark skin.
A lightbulb went off in their head, almost metaphorically (there was probablly a component up there that lights up when they 'think'). Slowly, the android offered a solution to the childs dilemma. "Abigail, what if- what if she couldn't hurt you anymore?"
"I- what?"
"Hear me out, what if she wasn't able to hurt you, wh-what if she wasn't able to hurt Chelsea either." The moment the FM200's name came out of their mouth, the moment they felt disgust. Come to think of it, they had been feeling things a lot. Is this normal for androids? Maybe it was just their programming? Chels- the other machine never mentioned anything about feeling things.
"What do you mean?" The child asked, her dark curls waving a bit as she tilted her head.
"I know a safe place-they didnt-, a place where she can't get to you. All you need to do is trust me enough to come with me."
"Thats- no I cant. im sorry Oakl-"
"There isn't a choice, Abigail! We have to go, she'll hurt you if we don't. Pack your things, we need to leave in approximatly 15 minutes!" Their voice rose at the childs name, then quieting down.
They couldn't let this innocent being get hurt, they couldn't.
Standing up, the androud helped the kid -teenager, she was 13- pack her things. Things like underwear, socks, extra shoes. A blanket was shoved into an old backpack that she had used in 6th grade, along with some granola bars. In 8.3 minutes, the child was ready to go.
"Where is this place?" She had asked her android, worry and confusion sweeping across her face.
"It's not far, I promise..."
They were lying, they didnt know were they were going to go. They weren't programmed to lie, why were they? With a quick sigh, the android grabbed the girl on the wrist, gentle to not hurt her. They made their way out of the house safely, though they almost had a heartattack when thunder snatched. It was far, not close.
They were on the street now, and it was cold. Luckily, their human companion was smart enough to bring a hoodie with them. It was also raining, which didnt bother them but it did the human. She sniffled and cuddled into their side to get warmth. How they were going to get warm by huddling into the machines side was unbeknownst to them. They were made of metal, so surely they would be cold? Whatever the reason they decided to quit caring and finish walking.
They passed not many on their venture through the city. Their internal clock told them that it was approximately 8:30am. At this time of day, most would assume that they were walking their owners child to school, but Abigail was homeschooled.
Abigail wasnt homeschooled because she was dumb, or that she couldnt keep up. In fact, she was awfully intelligent. Her mothers reasoning for homeschooling her was so that she 'wouldn't infect the other children'. That was complete bullsh-hickey. Don't mind that, just a glitch in their programming. Since they were designed to be around children, they were prearranged to have everything that comes out of their mouth censored. In their opinion it was dumb.
A hand clasped on their shoulder, what? They mustve not been paying attention. Turning around in such a way that their white locks framed their face in an unnatural way, They came face to face with a police officer.
Were they caught? No, no, no, no, no, no.They cant be caught already, they'd done nothing suspicious!
"You dropped this." The officer informed the two, holding up a pair of underwear. The pair mustve fallen out of the backpack, unusual since they were sure Abigail had zipped it up all the way.
"You guys going on a road trip or something? Why bring a pair of underwear to school?"
Scanning the officers name tag, the responded, "Deepest apologies that you had to see that Officer Miller, but Casey here has accidents sometimes. It's always good to be prepared so that his mother does not have to send me out to bring him new clothes."
Oh how it pained him to call her a he. As she made clear before, she was not a he. Why didnt he just use her dead name? Why didnt he use Michael? Either way, after an uncomfortable converstation about how to re-potty train children they parted ways and the two escapees made their way across the street. Sitting down on a bench, Abigail turned to her android and asked why they had used the name Casey.
They explained why. Casey was a unisex name, so it was less likely to cause her to feel dysphoric. Their reasoning was solid, yet it wasnt the full truth. When they were being made, the employee who had assembled them had introduced themselves as Casey, telling them that they were different. Abigail made them feel different, made them feel loved. But Casey? Casey never explained to them why they were different.
The rain had long passed, but there was still thundering in the distance. The two runaways made their way to a nearby alleyway. That was where they had told her that they were going to need to stay there for the day. It wasnt dark out, only just turning 9am. Abigail's mom should have woken up by now, probably ordering the FM200 to clean the house. Probably searching for her child, searching for her android. Probably calling the police department, putting out a search warrant.
"Okay, uh Abigail, I have to change my looks m'kay? I'm gonna alter a few things, so dont be alarmed."
Relieved when they heard the quiet okay, They began to alter themseves. they changed the style of their hair, this was put into their systems for the android to play dress up with the younger children they assoiciated with. Now with curly hair, they changed the snow white complexion of the artificial strands to midnight black. In order to blend in, they also altered their skin tone a bit. Now a bit lighter than their human companions. Their green eyes stayed the same as they werent able to change that without getting a new eye compartment.
Turning around, the android showed their new looks to the girl. She made comments about how they looked like siblings -s̶̥̬̆ó̷̧͓̓f̶̹̝̈́t̵̖͉̩͊̄w̵̦̚͝ả̸̰̬̀ṙ̶̬͕͓̑̕ë̴̹̤̜́ ̸̬̃i̶̠̇n̷̳͙̟͂̆̓ş̵͌t̸̡̋̾̿ͅā̵͚́͘͜͜b̸͎̝̝̀i̸̦̲̊l̷̪̔͊i̷͔̳̦̽͒́t̶̝̾͗ȳ̷̖̠̊͊, that was something. Did she consider them siblings? The android smiled, their eyes creasing with happiness, telling the girl that they felt as though she was their little sister.
After staying there in the alley for a bit, the two began to quickly realize that it wasnt safe. humans walked past them every second of the day, some probably saw them change their appearance. So soon after talking it over, the two made their way out of the alley. But not before they took off their cyberlife issued jacket. Turning it inside out and wrapping it around their waist really gave the allusion of being human. Almost. They still had their LED, and that needed to be removed. Looking around, the android smiled as their eye caught the shine of a rusted item. Picking it up, they soon realized that it was a fork. Good enough.
Removing the LED resulted in a slight twinge of pain, pain? They werent supposed to feel pain, but then again they werent supposed to be running away from their owner either. The two quickly made their way through the slightly crowded streets, before coming across a park. The park was a local park, and was open to anyone. Some humans were walking their dogs, while others had their android do it while they sat.
The pair came to not only admire, but also let loose a bit. To get away from the stress. The nerve-racking morning two had had required some loosening up. The android turned the Abigail smiling and telling her to go play.
The girl looked up at them smiling,
"Thank you, Oakley."
_____Ś̵̨̨̨̢̡̨̧̛͚̠̤̪͍͎̺̯͕͇̹͖̖͖̘̫͉̲͇͓̖̖̩͇̞̣̭̮̱̘̝͍͚̯͍̦̩͋̂́̏͒̌̉͑̀̿̃̇̾̌͒̍̍̒͐̔̐̔͌͆͌̈́̆̀̒̑̈́͛̿͋̑̊̇͘̚̚͘̚̕͜͜͝Ô̷̡̡̡̢̩̪̙̩̝̞̳͕͇̼͓̦̬͓̹̮͙̦͈͔̗͈̯͖̺͓̤͓̼̤̥͓̜͚͊̒̔̕͘͜͜ͅF̷̧̡̘̝͇͓̟͚͍̱̺̘̝̹̦̙̟̪͎͈̳̩̜͉͖̖̟̝̗̳̙͔̮̤͙̝̜̠̣̩̻̮̯̣̩̰͓̣̭̊̅̓͋̓͆̾̀̿̄͑̃̊́̓̋͘̕͜͝͝͠Ţ̵̧͙̹͍̞̹̤̫̫̦̤͉̲̥͚͇̦̻̈́̈͜ͅW̴̡̡̧̧̨̡̡̭̖̲̼̜͎̗̼͍̹̯͇̜͎̻͇͖̦̪͍͓̝̟̯͓̝͎̮̬͈̗̠̪͍̘̰̰̙̦̠͖̜̞͕̫̣͈̤̮͑́̉̅̉̀͝Ą̸̖͇̥̒͆̍̆̄̏̇͒̚͝Ṟ̸̡̧̭̻͕̹͔̼̭̦̰͔̪̂͆̑͌̄͒̋͋̈́̋̿͒̃̽̊̑̓̃̒̈́̓͌͗̐͛̒̒̂̂̚͘̕̕̚͜͜͝͝Ḙ̴̢̞̦̫͒͌̓̒̆͊͌̂̇̂̃̈́̌̈́͂̈̈̈́͒̇̏̐͆̄̆̑̆͘͘Ï̷̢̡̨̨̛͇̰͔̯͇̜̝̩̹̟̦͈̪͇͔͙̪̜̗̖͈̱̣͔̲͓̹̫͈̖͕͙͉̲̰̝͓̺̱͉͖̮̜͇̼̳͉̠̣͖̏͊͗͊͒̄̂̉̑̑̃̈́̏̽͗̈͌̿̔̎͋̄̿̅͛̿͌͋̈̋̕͠ͅͅN̶̡̧̡̡̛̬̣̞̺͇͕̰̟͇̜͇͙͔̥̰̦̪͚̫̮̝͚͈͇͇̜̠̻͚͖̜̘̘̦͙͕͚̟̩̟̖̩̲̰̬̓̈́͛̓͋͑̄̔̆͋̑͋͑̊̐̓͒̋͆́̈́̾̓͂́͆̊̉̒͗̓̈͂͐͒͑̽͂̀͒̈́͋̂̌̓̚̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅŞ̷̞̹̹͍̳͙͇̥̜̗̲͍̼͉̥͚̘̬̣̰̺̠̯̗͈͕̝̪̗̓͛͜͜ͅͅͅT̵̢̨̨̡̳̗̬̰͈͉͍̫̣̝̜̰̫̝̩̦̙̗̘̮̞̭̘̝̜̆̆̌͗̎̏̂̂͂͗̂̅̑̍̊̄͋͆̐͗́̔͋̀̌͒̿̈̈́̄͒̊͜͜͝͠ͅA̸̧̧̨̨̢̛̝̝͚͓̝̘̪̦̻̦̹͖̭͔͖̫̼̭̠̙̮̳̺̪͙͓̺̘̫̻͖͕̩̗̱͍͔̮͙̘̣͉͚̲̰̳̫͋̏̓̍̽̊̈́͒̿̐͊͆̃̓̂̏̾͊̓̋͗̏̅̏̓̽̌̏̈́͑̏͆̆͐̑̊͠ͅͅB̶̢̧̡̢̢̧̢̧̛͉̱͍̬͉̯̱͓̤̣̳̙͓̟̪̘͚͚̣͙̞͇͎̪̫̖̻̲̪̱͓̗͈̣̙̘̱͇͓̮̯̦̳̭͐̋͊̑̆̃̒̒̉̇͐̋̐̐͛͐̓̿̽̉͌̇̃̚̚͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅI̸̧̨̧̢̤̣̝̺͍͓͙̻̙̝̻̙̖̬̣͕̟̙͉̠̱͚͎̟̫͊̿̓̌̎̏͐̎̌̈́͑͜͝͝ͅL̷̡̧̧̡̢̢͙̺͙̹̳̦͍͇͈͇̞̝̲̣̟̗̜̤̞̪̝̞̩̲̜̩̰̗̭̮͕̩͉͎̫̝̟̬͈̜̪͚͈̳̬̪̀̅̍̾͐̿̉̈͒̎͜͜͝͝ͅͅḬ̵̳̠͙͖̳̫̰͕̙̘̦̙̣͚̹̱̤̫̥̞͚͙̼̺̪̥͈̖̕ͅͅT̸̢̡̧̛̥͉͈̱͚̖͖̯͕̯̥͓̮̞͇͎̖̜̃͊͂̊̾̏̎̈͊̅̐̓̂̋͊̿̋̚ͅͅẎ̶̧̨̡̧̛̫͓͇͖̩̠̥̯̯̳̩͚̙̗̮̭̫̲̳̹̻̯͗͊̾͋̂̉̽̆͑̋̆̓̆̐̓͊̚͜͜_____
░̵̧̛̛̛̥͎̹͚̩̯͓̜̙̳̎͐̈́̅̄͐̾̅͌̐͐̽̓̈͆̐̍͗͛́̿̍̊̈́̄̀͐͌͛̽̅͌̓͂̀̋̌̔̑̈͊̀̐̊̇͑̔̓̕̚͝͝͠▒̶̢̧̧̨̨̨̛̰͍̙͙̩͔̼͚̠̟̪͔̣͈̲̮̰͔̹̺̦͍͇͈̞̼̳̞̫̻̞͙̙̫͚̣̭͉̝̞̰̘̺̣̼͚̗̬̘̪͓̩̦̪̻̞̱̟͉͎̗̺̫̰̟̼̻̺̻͖̟̫̗̯̹̪̙̟͉͔͕̬̩̪̭̙̽̌͋͂̊̾͗͂̊̏̆͑̃̈́̏̿̈̉͗̄̓̀͊͗̽̐̾͛̀̀͐̅̉̈́͒̇̅̇͋̏̒̎̄͆͂͆̕̚̚͜͜͜͝ͅͅ▓̶̛̛̹̘̲̱͖̯̟͖̲͉̰͋̋̄̑͊̏͛͒̌̐̎͊͌̾̈́͌̈́͋̀̀͊̇̈́̽̄̏͂̅͊̄̓̐͗͒̌͐͒͆̕̚͘ͅ█̶̛̝̥̆̈͋̔͋̎̔̔̔̔͛͊͗̎̐̽̈́͗̂̈͐̋̃͛͗̊̒̃̈́̀́̈́̔̋͛̽̿͆͂̄̆̈́͛͛̈́̋͐̎͆̎̓͗̄̍̇̎̾̌̓͆̀̋̍͆̿̓̈́̽̅̄̕̕͘͘̕̕͘͝͠͝͝ ̸̢̢̧̢̡̢̨̨̳͎̫̪̖͇͇̫̦̠̮̤̯̯͕̭̳̜͙͓̻̳̘̦͔͈͙͇̘͖̤̯̥̫̬̙͖̖̱͍̗̲͙͙̪̩̯̜̭̜̝̻͍̺͕̹̺͕̘̱̦̬̩̱̳̪͖͕̼̩͎̤͋̆̅̌̈̑͑̎͐̔͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅF̷̢̢̢̡̢̧̨̧̨͔͈͓̮̠̭̣̭̮̪͎͖̳̥̞̠̹̳̞̪̗̞̞̰͖̞͎̭̹̠̝̖̠̪̰̮̭̱͚̫̙̝̥̥̺͍̠̖̖͎̤̥̺̫̠̞͓̿͒̿͗̉̈́̽̽̌̔̐͐̍̑̄̕͘͝͠ͅͅM̵̨̡̨̨̧̢̧̲̗̠̯͉͙̫̯̗̝̲͚̺͔̜̭̖̗͈̯̞̜̟͚͔͎̤̬̬̯̭̻͇͍͈̹̹̣̩̖̞̲͔͕͈͈͙͖̮͉̥̣͙̮͎̤̱͇̳͎̫̫͇̼̙̐̄̓̎͊͆͑͂̅́͛̃̈́̌̋͒͌͂̓̓̈́̍̋̋̅̈́͌́̑̋̉̌̉́̔͐͛̾̾̅͛̌́̑̈́̑̓͒͗̌̋̓̾̇̒͂͒̀̈́̒͂̍͋̉͋͆̈́̕̚̚̕͘͠͝͝ͅ7̷̨̡̳͙͎͇͔̲̼̗̝̥̣͖͇͕̩̲͎̘̱͖̱͓̱̼͕̩̯̻̰̑̌̋̑̊̒̿̅̈́̊̍͋̾̈́̈̋̏̔̎̕̚͜͝͠͝0̵̢̢̢̢̨̧̢̡̨̧̛̫͔͔̩͕͔̺̮͕̥̖̝͎̙̱̬͖̘̣̭̱̝̳̱͇̰̤͓̝̞̣̰̖̣͙̟̥̙̤͇̦̯͕̰̞͚̰̤̬̙̺̝͙̩̪͇̺̝̩̪͖͍͎͚̀̅̋̊̔̈́̆̃̑̋͘͘͜ͅ0̵̧̨̡̧̨̧̡̝̦̩͈͔͚͖͚̼̳̰͓̯̥̲̖̯͇͙̱͙̩̺̞͓͈͔̰̥͔̜̳̩̫̤̞̩͈̬̪̪͔̪̖̫̲͈̣̬̜̲͓̗̩̦͇̬͖̫̝̠̝̫̗̥͙͈̻̰̙̫͈͓̠͋͆̽͑̄̿̈́̇̍͂̍͗͒͊͆̾̔̿̊̈́̋̃̆͗̏͒̔̾̊̏̆̔̓̆̑͂̽̏̍̎̈́̈́̓̏͂̎̾̐̿̍͌͘̚̚͘͘̚͜͜͝͝͠ ̸̧̧̨̨̧̢̢̢͈͓̞͎̦̰͙̘̘͈̤͚̙͚̮̮̝̻̤̳̯͖͔̟͓̫̝̩̜̰̺͙̼̳̥͍̟̘͍̲͎͉̮͙̠͙̳͖̖̣̮͚̭͎̞̞͔̻͔͚̘̮̻͆͋̎͛͒͑͆̊̍̄̇̾̽̏̍͐̍̀̔̃̅́͂̔̈́̃̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅM̴̧̨̡̨̢̧̡̧̧̪͕͖̪̻̜͎͔̳̜̝͚̱̝̪͎̥̪̗̭͔͙̖̟̙̖̺͈̟̲͍̦̙̞͍̻͙͖͉̜̰̦͎͔̲̦͍̹̜͇̥̩̥̩͔͚̤͕̟̫̹̯̜͈͖̗̩̝̲̟̬̮̟͙̬̦̮͕̦̹̞̖͕̯̈́̀͂͛̊̈́́̃̀͑́͆̀̐͛̈́͆̐̽̀̈͒̍͌͌̅̌͂͑̚̕͝͝ͅa̴̢̜̱̮̦̙̩͕̯̜̥̹̹͇̾͋̒͛̐̎̾̒́̅̉̀͋̾̐̽͝͝Ļ̴̧̨̧̙͔͙̞͖̟̜̮̘̲͖̳̮͍͉̩̩̹̣̟͍̥͔̭̪̝̺̼̖̺̲̝̰̪̋̂͂̀̈́͘͜͜ͅf̶̡̨̧̡̡̢̧̡̨̢̨̡̡̡̧̛̮̪̟̥̼̭̙̪̙͙͎̭̺̺͙͔̖̺͚̤͈͍͚͙̙͕͓̯̞͉̝̫͍̹̘̟̠̹̫̮̱͈̟̮̯͇̜̺͔̳̥͚̘͓̘̙͖̳̲͇̻̥̜͔̖̹̗̮̖̳̣̰̖͐̎̐̎̀͑̈́͋̐̍͑̂͐̋́̈́̏̽̓̅̎͊͆́̈͂̓͋̊̑͂̊͊͒̒̑͆͋̓̐̄͒̀̔̐̓͗͛̇͋̏̆͘͘͜͜͝͝ͅͅų̵̨̧̨̨̡̛̛̛͈͕̖̗̻̖͙͔͎̤͙̞̪̼͎̺̫̹̲͔͎̳̥̱͕̬̜͚̼̦̖̤̯͎͓̤͕̟̫̰̲̪̻̭͕̳͎̝͙̼͚̝̮̘̝̩̗̘̖̮̰̠̳́͗͒́̈́̅̈̎̔̂̎̎̑͑̂̄̈́́͒͆̃̄̀̈̌̇͐̑̂̓̎͑̒̓̎̈̚͘̕͜͠N̴̢̡̧̨̡̧̛̛͇͈̫̘̻̩̯̩͍̤͍͎͈͕̳̲͕̱̟͓̟͕̤̼͇͓̱̱̬̦̞̘̤̝̖̞͈͍̖̫͉͍̖͇̮̲͚̫̪̩͙̙̖̠̭͍̦̭̙̲̰͚̤̠͚̫͈̻̦̰̋͐͑͒̾͛͊̈́͗̋͗̆̌͋̾͊̍̈́̌̍̑̐͋̉̍̌̃͑̋͂͂͌̃͌̅̆̆̈͆̇̅̉͌͋̊̏̚̚̕̕̚̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅC̷̡̡̢̛̯̜͈̫̻̥̺̮̬̝̤̙̼̩̹̯̪͇̪̳̥̻̦̳͉̣̳͕̺͓̥̖̘̩͚̩͈͖̩̮̩̯͇̘̍̾̈́̋̓̌̈́̇͗̈́̋̋̈́̈́͋͒̓̍̅̈̐̄̂̈̈́̈̎̐̍͐̋̽̽̔̉̈́̏͐̉̍̐̐̑̌̀̏̈́̊͒̊̋̔̃̈́͗̓̑́͊̓̄̔̔͗͆͋͐̐̔̇̍̉̿̍̃͗̌̈́͗̿̚̕͘̚̚͘̚͘̚͜͠͝͝͝͠ͅt̸̢̧̨̨̢̨̧͇͕̥̙̺͓̙̟̱̤͈̝̥͖̲̹̼̻̙̙̭̠̻̦͎̠̝̼̦̫̟̪̗̬͎̣̳͓͖̥͖̻̭̘̫͕̪̣̻͚̯̩̪̭͍̰͕̝͇̖͈̼͇̦̭̼̦̰̠͎͎̜̹͍̺̼̩̪̤͒̍̊̐̾̂̇̅̅͒̏͐̌̀͘͜͜͜͜͜͠ͅͅͅͅį̶̢̨̧̢̢̢̛̭̙̲̠̗̞̼̖̯͖̰̹̟̤̟̭̝̰͍̪̮͖͈̠͇̦̣̻̱̬̣̱̱͇͙̝̯̯̮̤͛̏̌̇̽͛̊͐͑̀͋̇̔̅͐̍͌̏̾̊̒̎̃̊̉̊̌̋̍̃̈́̈́̓̇̂̔̅͊͊̔̈́̍̈́͒̈́̃̚̚͘̚͝͝͝ͅͅo̷̢̢̺͇̞̙͚̼̰̫̺̼̝͚͔͙̪͇̙̘̪̩̪̘̫̗̜̗̺̖̰̩͕̎̇N̴̨̡̡̡̢̛̜̩̥͉̝̝̰̬̹̗̲̬͔̯̼͉̺͚̰̖͈͖̙̥̬̠̥͓̼̰͇͖̟̞͚̞̘̻̘͔̫̱̤͉̓̈́̽̈́̃̍̄̂̒̿̂́̏̌̎̍̆͒͌̈́̒̂̄̿̌̅̓̏͆̒͒̽̌̍̑̉̎͋͆͒̈́̍̋͗̏̑͂̾̔̂͑͛̑̓̇̿̔̌̒̈̓͐̄͐̀̏̇͌̆̂͋̈̿̇͗̎̍̐̈́̚͘̚̕̕̕̕͘͝͝ͅͅ ̸̝̱̉̄̄͂█̷͉̖̟̣͐̌̒̂͂̓̈́̈́̈́͆̄͋̐̄̇͆̈̿͊͛̉͒̆̔̎̑̈͑̓̕͠͝͝▓̶̡̨̡̨̧͓͖̱͔̩͔͉̝̠͚̱̝̮͕̖̫̭̗̻̮̳̪͚͕̻̘̣̬̦̰̞̜͓̻̣̭̺̦͓̥̜̱̣͔̜͉͂̏͋͒̒̓͑̓̈́̾̅̎̈́͒̾̆̿̀̋́̍̒͂͋́͂̊͒̌͂̇̈́̉͑̂̒̉̐̄͑̄̿̕̚̚̚̚͜͜͝͠ͅͅ▒̶̢̨̧̢̛͇̤̟̖͕͚̼̤̯̹͎͚͙̜̜̲̗͇̖͖͙̙̪͕̹͈͇̬̯͓̱̬̠̠̩̬̳̜̖͎̪̄̄̇̇̐̿͒̎̋̔̑̓́̐̍̎̃̈̍̐̋̉̈́̃͒̈́̿͘͜░̵̨̧̨̛̜̼̺̻̬̜̯̫̣̳͌̇̉̒͆̈̅̎́̅̌͛̒͑̽̄̈́̎̃̐̏̈́͐́͛̉̾͊̍̓͑͑͐̀͋̓̀̿̈́́̍̇̐͊̾̚̕͝͝͠͝͝͝͝