you must believe you are special and then go so hard, for so long, with such violent refusal to accept any other ending, that reality itself starts running out of ways to tell you no. you must wage a war daily against the ordinary outcome, until the belief you invented out of nothing in a room by yourself has been hammered into the world so many times that it stops being a claim and becomes reality.
Fuel is honestly the least of your worries when it comes to owning a car.
The real question is: Can you randomly replace all 4 tires, shock absorbers, and brake pads at the same time without your account crying? 😂
Introducing NEO’s 25 Degrees of Freedom, tendon-driven hands — nearing or surpassing human-level dexterity, strength, speed, and reliability.
For seventy years, robotics worked around the hand problem. The humanoid bet is the reverse: it lives or dies at the fingertips.
Might sound like a stretch, but for all its flaws, religion exists because of people like this.
They have no intrinsic desire to hold themselves to consistent standards of integrity. In fact, it is a shackle they’re eager to shed. They can only be herded with carrots & sticks.
Hi. @fccpcnigeria
You need to do something about the internet service providers, particularly the mobile network operators.
They are robbing people blind with their data plans and how quickly it runs out.
In America, a warehouse store. A fully roasted chicken costs five dollars, the raw chicken beside it costs seven, and I stood between them like a man between two truths.
Golden. Hot. Seasoned. Spinning in glory under the lights, in a line of its brothers. Four dollars and ninety-nine cents.
I checked the raw birds. Seven dollars. Pale. Cold. You must do everything yourself.
This is not commerce. Commerce does not move backward. Somewhere in this building, mathematics lies defeated.
I asked the man at the counter. "How is the cooked bird cheaper than the raw bird?"
"Been five bucks forever. They keep it that way."
"But the store loses."
"Yep. On purpose."
On purpose. I held my receipt with both hands.
In my land, a lord who lowered the price of rice in a hard winter was remembered for generations. They built him a small shrine. This store does it every day, with chicken, and tells no one.
A woman behind me grew tired of my reverence. "It's just a chicken, sir."
It is not just a chicken. It is a wound the merchant takes on purpose, so that anyone, on any day, with five dollars, eats like a lord. The bird is the message. The price is the vow.
I will confess: I bought two. I did not need two. The second was not hunger. It was gratitude, and it was delicious.
Some prices are not prices. They are promises.
I return every week now. I take one bird. I bow toward the deli, briefly, so as not to alarm the staff. They have begun nodding back.
The vow holds. The bird turns. Five dollars.
Long may it spin.
If your doctor diagnoses Typhoid on day 3 of a fever using a single Widal test without even ordering a blood culture, you are dealing with quackery. Convince me otherwise.