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Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I don't generally come in here, but I noticed this thread due to the Chickencheese thread coming to Creative Convention, and I'm actually quite interested. Since I'm a complete newcomer/moron, can I ask for clarification concerning the contest rules?

As far as I've determined, entrants have to confirm entry by December 1st and submit their entry by December 2nd. The word count limit is 1000 words (questions: is that a hard limit, and is there a minimum word count?) and the subject of the story has to be a man coming home to find a woman present. The catches are that neither the man nor the woman can know the other, that no other characters can be introduced, and at the end of the story one of them must leave. The first submission is final, and no third-party editing or review can be involved.

Am I correct? Am I missing any other rules or elements that have to be present in the story, or stylistic assumptions that everyone participating usually works to? Assuming I've not completely missed the point (and given my track record, that's a pretty big assumption), I'm thinking of joining in for this one.

Thanks to whoever responds.

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Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Okay, that works. I'm going to sleep on this and see if it's still a good idea when I wake up, but I have a half-baked idea already. I'm probably not going to trash-talk much because I always, always pitch it completely wrong and just end up being offensive.

Regards my word limit questions... well, are there any answers?

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Okay, I have an idea. Spoilers: no chickencheese. Consider me in.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I was thinking of working on this a little longer, but I decided to leave it mostly raw. 991 words. There was actually a little more I wanted to do with this, but I'd have needed another two hundred or so words to make it work.

Etherwind posted:

Bad News

"Who in hell are you?"

The woman by the window spun, putting down the picture she was holding. Her eyes were wide with guilty fear. "I'm sorry! I was looking-"

"I can see you were looking," he snapped back as he came in from the hall. "Why are you here?"

"I let myself in." She edged away from the windowsill, smoothing down the sides of her skirt, nervous. "I knocked on the door and nobody answered, so I-"

"You thought it would be fine to come in? To walk into someone's house, someone's property?"

"I was looking for Mr. Urgos." She waved a piece of card like it could deflect his wrath.

"Well you found him." His eyes seethed as he shut the door behind, standing between her and the exit.

She paused then, looking him up and down, swallowing as she regained composure. "My apologies, Mr. Urgos. You don't look like-"

"Like a native?" His anger flared. "Like I was born and raised? Like I belong here?" He was aware his hand was shaking as he raised it, his movements stilted, and he thought he might lose his temper despite the effort to restrain himself. "I have every right!"

"I meant you don't look foreign, Mr. Urgos." She was calmer, her words gentle and pleading. "The card said Dimitri Urgos, and I thought you'd be... please, I meant no offence, I'm with the care home-"

He stopped short, his mouth dry. "You mean the VA? You don't look like a nurse." Something between fear and anger swelled in his chest, and he smothered it with a repeated demand, "Who are you?"

"My name is Sophie," she answered slowly, palms raised. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have bad news and..."

He suddenly felt very tired, staring past her to the darkness in the window: it seemed to take the fight out of him. "I've had a long day," he said after the pause, "I don't need bad news now." He wiped his forehead, massaging some life back into his flushed face, and abruptly sat on the chair by the window.

Sophie hesitated for a long moment, clearly unsure whether to remain. Her white blouse and skirt looked crumpled around the edges and her hair was tied back in a working ponytail, no make-up or jewellery. She looked tired, too, but even with rings under her eyes he realised she was quite beautiful, tall like him. The thought she was only slightly younger than he was made him shake his head, look away in embarrassment.

"Mr. Urgos, may I make some coffee?"

He shot her a glance of suspicion, but nodded. She retreated into the kitchen, leaving him alone to listen to the hiss and clink as she worked.

"Make mine black!" he called after her, half surprised at himself. She returned with a cup not much later. "I see you found the instant."

"Yes," she shrugged, "most people keep it in the same place."

"Man, most people with sense." This seemed to please him, though he did not smile as she perched on the nearby couch with her drink. He waved at the block-like phone nearby. "You should have called."

"I didn't think you'd want to... to talk over the phone."

"I suppose not." He avoided the subject. "I was out, anyway."

"Where were you, Mr. Urgos?"

He felt irritation, but the unexpected concern in the question kept him placid. "I like to go for walks. I don't want to stay here too long, in case people come by. You know?"

"You don't like visitors?"

"I don't."

"What about... family?"

"My parents died young. Left me their house. Neighbours raised me, but they moved away, and I was grown enough to stay. All my friends were older, and got called up when the whole thing started."

"Mr. Urgos-"

"Dimi." He shrugged. "You might as well call me Dimi."

She sat back, went quiet for a time. "Dimi... it's nice."

"Better than Dimitri."

"Is it a family name?"

"Yes. Third generation," he said with pride, "and I still keep a few traditions. But if I ever have children, I'll give them it as a middle name. Let be normal kids, you know?"

Sophie coughed, closing her eyes. He watched her swallow, and unease returned. "Have I upset you?" he asked after a moment.

"No, miste-" She caught herself. "No, Dimi. I'm not upset."

"You look like you've been on your feet a while." He gave a dry laugh. "Man, never any rest for you people. At least the ones you treat are home..." He thought he saw a tear in the corner of her eye, stumbling awkwardly to a halt. He groped for something better. "Sorry. Maybe they're not so lucky. The whole thing's a mess."

"You have no idea." Her lips were twisted together.

"Maybe I don't see as much as you, but, man... I heard about people coming back messed up. Seeing things, hearing voices. Worse things than burns or missing legs. That scares me. Do you-"

"Are you afraid the government will call you up? Is that why you were out?"

Her interruption made him flustered, and he half-stood, thinking better of it as he remembered the coffee. "Yes." He grew agitated, staring at the rim. "Of course, drat it. I refused the board, you know? I haven't been. I was thinking of running, but there won't be anyone to watch the house." He gulped the coffee, winced as it burned, gave a hoarse cough that lasted too long. "God, I've been waiting for weeks now. I know they're coming. And every day I read the paper, and I see the casualties, and I know that's going to be me one day."

He made eye contact, seeing her pale. Part of him wanted to reach out, to take her by the shoulders; part of him wanted to demand she leave. Instead, he asked, "What are you here for?"

"I was just visiting, Dimi. I should go." Sophie set down her coffee and stood, giving him a smile that he returned in confusion as she left the room.

As she strode down the hall, the names on the other doors were blurred.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I've just belatedly realised I may have screwed up part of the challenge:

quote:

Second, and most importantly, these two people must be complete strangers to one another. That means no shared relations, friends, or God help us, long-lost et cetera. No passing glances on the street or muttered rumors pertinent to either of them prior to this date. What's more, neither of the characters can even suggest they know each other. They have nothing tying them together in any way.

I'm not convinced that having a reason to seek a stranger out in their residence necessarily violates this implicitly, since it'd rule out any meetings other than utter randomness.

It's the judge's call. If I've inadvertently disqualified myself, fair enough, I'll accept the loss and the custom title.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

What I took from it was the uncertainty and unfamiliarity of two strangers in an unusual situation, and the absence of a reason is something I tried to keep in the perceptions of the protagonist. As far as he's concerned, it is a random intrusion, and anything else is subtextual. I'll message you the rest I had in mind.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I'm cool with it sucking, that's not what I was about. Thanks for the heads up.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I'm going to hang around and keep participating, but I'm not really interested in the faux-machismo.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Stuporstar posted:

Come on, get into the spirit of things.

Okay, just this once.

Look, I can't help it if your brain's so atrophied from sipping lattes in Barnes and Noble that you can't spot the difference between some mewling gently caress trying to justify his writing as good and the confidant, give-no-fucks attitude of a writer who knows his poo poo ain't roses but wants to talk all the same. Whether you're brain-dead or just dead-eyed after all the hours on the Kindle literotica store, I don't care: you should tell the difference between "This poo poo is totally fine for the contest, and here's why," and "This word-salad is the linchpin of my ego, pray, tread lightly." What the gently caress do you think I am - a mirror? gently caress no.

...And that's why, as a rule, I don't do faux-machismo.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Are entries usually posted in the thread? How many have there been so far?

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

You can add my castrato to the chorus.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Sitting Here posted:

Judges give me someone hardcore to fight.

I volunteer.

Now that you've stopped laughing: really. I'm giving this my all, and short of something going spectacularly wrong when I'm at the dentist's tomorrow, I intend to give whoever I get a run for their money. Metaphorically.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Is there anything in the rules against cutting the ring out? Hypothetically.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

All that is truly great in life is unhygienic, and typically involves an rear end in a top hat.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Deathmatches? Yeah, I could go a round of rocket tag.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

You have teeth? drat, you have it easy. I've got to gum people to death.

Takes more effort.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Martello posted:

If there is an uneven number of participants, I will step in to face the odd man.

I guess not everyone's suicidal enough to face the odd woman.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I know.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

And the axeman asked "Where sits the Blood Queen?"

And the seer answered

"Lo, see the Queen does not sit upon a throne
For she is always in motion, her cut teeth
Biting back against the blade that flies to sting,
Chewing on sharp barbs that tear the men aside."

And the axeman asked "How then do I find her?"

And the seer answered

"Lo, see the red tide she calls to her wide feet
For it is not blood of menses, but life spilled
Brightly from those who thought to stand and fight her,
Spewing out dead mouths that scream a path to her."

And the axeman asked "How then do I know her?"

"Lo, see the Queen does not sit upon a throne
For her crown is her bleak standard, its sudden
Sighting the final gasp of the doomed and damned,
Shewing her skill in its scarleted splendour."

And the axeman stood to leave.

And the seer asked "How then will you kill her?"

And the axeman answered

"Lo, see the red tide she calls to her wide feet
For it is not blood of menses, but life spilled
Lightly from her veins and lost within the trail,
Hueing darker where clots the wound she misses."

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Sitting Here posted:

Etherwind more like Firmamentfarts

I'd tell you to sit down and shut up, but you're halfway there already.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I hate writing. It is a massive ache in the balls. Please make me stop.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

gently caress yes.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Does a video count as a moving picture?

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

V for Vegas posted:

No correspondence with the judges will be entered into. Make the call and live with your decision.

Fair enough. Let's go with 800 words for a hard limit.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I have severe doubts about parts of that.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Sitting Here posted:

Oh gently caress it's you.

I look forward to the same reaction when we're posting our stories. No worries, though: I'm sure you'll get a second chance to get it right.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Etherwind posted:

The Bomb

"Lighting heaven from end to end
with flames crashing all around,"
- Song of Kali, Dan Simmons


I went under to the low voice of Oppenheimer on the History Channel. I was too hosed up to understand what he was saying, but I got the gist, nodding along with him to half-dreamt imagery of black swans over Western Park. The feathers falling from their wings grew hard, and when they touched the ground something worse than any honking filled the sky.

The crash had me up before I was awake, sweat-streaked and gasping, my foot stinging where it had gone through the coffee table. Glass shards protruded above my ankle, reflecting the TV as it flickered and went quiet.

"Christ!" I stepped out in a rush, winced, pressing my hand to the wound as I searched the debris for something other than week-old laundry and broken bowls. Eventually I hobbled through to the cramped kitchen and grabbed a dish towel to staunch the bleeding. I had to back out to bend down, and that's when I heard the rhythmic banging from the wall.

I listened; the bulbs in the ceiling dimmed in time to the hammering; the clock beeped past midnight, and reset in an artificial blink.

"You've got to be kidding me." My eyes went from clock to darkened window, and from there to the painted plaster shaking behind the chair, before finally settling on the broken table. "You've got to be loving kidding me."

I tied the towel around my leg and sifted through the discarded clothes, finding nothing that wasn't stained. A too blue bath robe slid from the recliner onto the floor, and I snatched it up, clumsily pulling the belt with one hand as I threw open my apartment door and hobbled to the next.

Three sharp knocks: no answer from within. I glanced down the hallway, saw my other neighbour looking down at me with an unspoken question. "This guy's an rear end in a top hat!" I answered her with a manic laugh, and she ducked back inside. She didn't want any trouble.

I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror, gaunt and tired, bleeding from the shin and sweating through the robe. I shivered, almost aware how I felt. Did I scare her? Then gently caress the next guy down. I beat against the faded numbers for his attention, only stopping when I saw sparks across my vision and stooped to breathe.

I heard a creak from the floor below, made out a shadow in the polished wood of the threshold. He hesitated; my tongue went dry as I thought what I would say. Then he retreated back the way he had came without opening the door, and I seethed in the stillness as his thumping returned.

Back in my home I took up the phone, dialling management. "Who's the rear end in a top hat in 802?"

"He moved in last week; why, what did he do?"

"He's hammering something, and the lights keep flickering. It's the middle of the night!"

"We've had some complaints."

"Well do something!" I was fixing for a fight.

In the following silence I let out a breath. I muttered thanks and ended the call before limping to the window, feeling cool against the glass as I smeared the view from inside. My leg ached. An electric hum made me look, and piercing light shone on my ledge from the next over.

I was entranced, my anger turned to curiosity. I mouthed an obscene syllable, silent, reached with a shaking hand for the latch and swung the pane wide open. I could hear bird calls above the trees in the park, but they were drowned in the tone that made the window shiver.

I leaned out, straining to see what he was doing. "What's he..."

Vertigo pushed me back inside. No way, the ledge. The noise rose in intensity as though responding to my fear, pops of distortion overlaying it, enough that when I shut the window I still heard the high, shrill squeal intruding on the space behind my eyes. Broken glassware crunched underfoot as I left the apartment, back on his doorstep when the sound faded, and with it the worst of the pressure in my skull.

Groping for something to say, the mirror gave me pause, and my teeth clenched in a voyeur's smile as I pulled it free and went struggling back to the window. It was too cumbersome to hold out with bare hands: I needed to extend my reach. The legs of the table broke apart with three pained kicks, and I was lashing them together with my belt when the banging resumed, more urgent than before. I ignored it, fumbling with belt and glass until my door broke open.

My incoherent scream made the world explode.

As the police carried me away, I heard my neighbour. "What was he doing in there?"

"Meth," Oppenheimer replied.

The instruction to keep things moving and full of bloody energy really contradicted the slow, creeping, petty paranoia at the heart of Tom Wait's song and poem. At 791 words, I hope it works.

(Sorry Sitting Here, couldn't wait any longer.)

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Sitting Here posted:

All Thunderdome Newbies (d'aaawe ) message Erik Shawn-Bohner or Martello for all your basic Thunderdome questions. All PMs are a confidential newby friendly zone. We encourage lots of questions here so PM away

Don't, it's a trick: I got scammed out of my pension and now Erik Shawn-Bohner has a chalet in Nigeria.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

If I'm hunched over, shaking and holding my sides, it's because I'm laughing at your lame as all hell entr-

You know what? No. I don't mind doing the bullshit bravado before putting an entry in, but I refuse to insult someone's work unless it's actually dire. Writing against you has made me really work at it, and I'm grateful for that. Thanks, Sitting Here.

making GBS threads here

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Well, gently caress. Congratulations.

Anyway,

V for Vegas posted:

500 words. ... No other rules. (Etherwind, if you make a post asking what 'no other rules means' so help me God...).

No worries man, I'm not that dumb.





...By the way: is it 500 words minimum, or maximum?

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Nope! I'm not going to compound my dumb joke with your dumber ideas. You'll get a 500-or-so word entry.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Man, please, go ahead and buy me the custom title now: save me having to deal with your bullshit. I'm still writing the entry.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Yeah. If you don't like what I submit, you can call me the loser and move on.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Honestly Sitting Here I'm going to do 500 words because the idea I've got is a) good and b) won't work in 400 words, and if I've learned anything from my first go round it's "Write what you think will work and take the words you need to do it." Since I'm here for the writing... yeah.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I'm tentatively in for the next fortnight, so long as the rules aren't going to massively change up after the first week. My significant other is going to be here, so I'm going to need to do all the writing well in advance of the deadline. If that's a problem I'll sit this next one out and be back after January 7th.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Capntastic posted:

He just has trouble expressing himself

I really can't stress enough how utterly, damningly true this is.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

V for Vegas posted:

Etherwind - Like I said, pretty good but a few things just irked me while reading. The opening quote (from Dan Simmons(?!) of all people) seems to be hanging there without reference to what happens in the story. I'm sure you've got a good reason but it was opaque to me. Also - using a reflection in a mirror to describe the appearance of the character - a dangerous flirtation with the 2nd rule there.

Yeah, there was a whole bunch of poo poo in there that didn't work like I intended. I won't bore you with an explanation for the quote. As for the mirror, hell, it's not fun if you're not taunting.

Still really rusty, but getting there. Thanks for the feedback.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

Etherwind posted:

Dragons, and Other Fairytales

Word came that a dragon was terrorising the Western markets. His hour arrived at last, the Order of Liberators dispatched their bravest warrior with all haste, clarion calls hailing him as he set out to bring justice.

Sir Peter was slightly troubled when he spied villagers in the business of re-thatching their roofs. Sunlight filled the valley as he strode toward them, and real fear set in when he saw children playing gaily in the newly cobbled streets.

"Afternoon, your lordship." The farmer lounged on a painted gate, puffing his pipe.

The knight turned, great hammer Regulator braced upon his shoulder. "Well met! I am Sir Peter, and I bring an end to your troubles!"

A slow nod. "Troubles?"

His heart quailed - for he was quick - but he kept his voice steady. "...The dragon has been vanquished?"

"Oh, no, your lordship."

Relief swept through him. "Then lead me onward to-"

"More pacified, your lordship."

He sagged. "Another man?"

"Oh, no. She was buxom."

His voice grew angry. "You mean to say that the all-consuming beast-"

"Aye."

"Gold hoarder-"

"Aye."

"Destroyer of men-"

"Aye."

"Deflower of virgins-"

"Wouldn't rightly know that, your lordship."

"Has been bested," he concluded, "by a woman?"

The farmer sucked smoke, scanning the sky. "Well, your lordship, you have the right of it, but it didn't go how you think."

"Pray tell."

"Well," the farmer removed his pipe, "the dragon showed up in a terrible mood, burning all the cottages and demanding tribute. We're simple folk, your lordship, so we gave all our gold, and it flew off with a beautiful lass astride."

"Doubtless, some fair noblewoman?"

"'Twas the cheesemonger's daughter." He tapped out his ashes thoughtfully. "She came back later with the dragon, said all was fine now, on account of recent foreclosures correcting an imbalance in the derivatives market."

Sir Peter stared.

Finally, leaning his foot on the gate, he managed "Sorry, what?"

"Well, rightly your lordship, I only took in about half of it, but she said something about a sudden collapse in the housing bubble brought about by homeowners defaulting in a hot market. This upset the dragon, which decided to invest its assets in gold, that being the commodity of choice for investors of a certain scale."

"It burned them down!"

"But afterwards, its confidence was at an all-time low. Any outsourcing it undertook in the local labour market must be understood as an effort to foster new growth." He began repacking his pipe. "Anyway, the girl soothed the beast, and persuaded it to reposition its commodities investment in a new market."

"...Cheese."

The farmer smiled. "You see! It came back and bought us out, and last I heard the girl was repackaging wedges as derivatives to sell abroad. With the reinvestment, our economy got moving again." He rapped on the gate. "I even got this painted."

The knight looked at the village, thinking. "But when it fails as a cheesemonger-"

"It's too big to fail, your lordship."

He threw down the hammer. "Then how am I meant to make my name?"

"Well, your lordship," the farmer said as he relit his pipe, "you could always rob a bank."

497 words, including title. I'll try for another at 400 words later today, but this is my entry.

Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

incoming, please ignore

Bear Sleuth, sebmojo, I'm not meaning to come off as defensive or a dick about it, but I disagree.

A better writer could write that in 400 words, but I'm not there yet. I cut it down to 450 words and thought about taking some other bits out of it, but I realised that the parts I'd already cut down were looking really bare, and removing the other sections I thought to about would either be cutting decent jokes, breaking tone or disrupting the pacing for the jokes left in. I couldn't think of a different way to write it to hit 400 words while retaining what I was going for. So I brought it back up and committed.

Basically, cutting to 450 - never mind 400 - felt like an exercise in hitting word count for the sake of word count, rather than serving to hone skill. I'd rather post it in a form where I feel happy about it, and can get criticism of where I should have cut, than break it down for the sake of word count alone. The alternative, for me, was to toss it out and try something entirely different, and I really liked the idea.

I'll leave the specifics until after the judges tear into it. Well, if.

V for Vegas posted:

What's this!! Do you think I don't know the law?! Wasn't it me who wrote it?! And I say that this man has broken the law! Right or wrong, we had a deal... and the law says, bust a deal, face the wheel.

Etherwind, you have chosen... poorly

I got Life Imprisonment! We're cool. Bring on the title.

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Etherwind
Apr 22, 2008
Probation
Can't post for 1941 days!


Soiled Meat

I've found out that I have to get an impacted wisdom tooth extracted, so I'm out.

I know, I know: not hardcore. If the general anaesthetic gets me really hosed up I might write some Bollywood anyway.

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