On March 5‚ 1774--250 years ago this month--John Hancock cemented his legacy as a leader of colonial resistance to British rule when he delivered his “Boston Massacre Oration” on the fourth anniversary of the murder of civilian colonists by British troops.

‘Trump would be the one to guide her'

She has taken a moderate position in the body and often voted against Democratic priorities

'More than 61‚000 children have fled a new wave of violence in Cabo Delgado provinces in Mozambique in the past two months'

'An essentially racist reading of history'

Imagine if the same forces that shrink your wool sweater when you forget what water temp to wash it at could be used at will to decide the fit of your clothes in real-time. This is the aim of a project at MIT looking to make shape-shifting fabrics for everything from medical devices to everyday […] The post Shape-Shifting Fiber Produces Fabrics That Shrink or Expand in Real-Time and Fit into Existing Manufacturing appeared first on Good News Network.

Have you ever wondered how long can wet dog food sit out before it becomes a no-go for your furry friend? This question has stumped many pet owners who want to keep their dogs healthy and happy but also need to manage their busy schedules. Here’s a fact: Wet dog food shouldn’t be left out... How Long Can Wet Dog Food Sit Out?

Book Recommendations Brandon Sanderson What The Sunlit Man and Other Secret Projects Have Revealed About Sanderson’s Cosmere The Secret Project books are filled with hints and lore‚ raising new questions—let’s discuss! By Lyndsey Luther | Published on March 5‚ 2024 icon-comment 1 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed Ahhh‚ can you smell that‚ fantasy fans? It’s a new Sanderson Secret Project hitting the shelves. Smells like worldbuilding‚ tight plots‚ and witty banter. (And what do those things actually smell like‚ you may be thinking to yourself? I’d like to think… a mix of sea-foam‚ leather book-bindings‚ and coffee. Why? It’s best we don’t ask these questions. Just keep on reading—and let’s dive right into the story in question!) Imagine‚ if you will‚ a setting similar to Mad Max: Fury Road. Now take the titular character‚ Max‚ make him a visitor from another planet who doesn’t speak the language‚ give him an actual personality‚ make him likable from the get-go‚ and we’ve got Nomad‚ the protagonist of The Sunlit Man. Start him off in a gladiator-like arena‚ but up the stakes by making the sun-side of the planet uninhabitable‚ so the denizens of the planet need to be constantly on the move in order to avoid it. Oh‚ and did I mention that Nomad’s being hunted by a group of alien worldhoppers called the Night Brigade? Now‚ if you’re not already familiar with Brandon Sanderson’s work and you’re reading this premise‚ thinking to yourself‚ “This sounds pretty neat…” Well‚ you may want to pump the brakes (at least for now). You see‚ Sanderson’s universe‚ the Cosmere‚ is a little like the Marvel Extended Universe. The worlds (and hence the books) are all connected to some extent‚ some more than others. And this one is very Cosmere-heavy. Think of it this way. Can you watch Avengers: Endgame without having seen a single other Marvel film or TV show and enjoy it? Sure. It’s a fun movie. But you’re going to be a little lost on some of the plot points and characters; similarly‚ when you pick up The Sunlit Man‚ you’re not going to find all the answers to the mysteries laid out in these pages. Nomad matter-of-factly talks about Dawnshards and spren and worldhoppers without explaining those terms. For some of these concepts‚ you can glean the meanings from context. Others‚ not so much. Will this detract from your enjoyment of the plot as a whole? That depends on the type of reader you are. If you like to have every question answered‚ every loose end tied up‚ every character nuance explained… this will not be the book for you. If you’re okay with just going along for the ride and don’t think too much about the little details‚ you’ll have a much better time‚ but you’d likely have an even better time if you’ve read some of the other books in Sanderson’s “extended universe” before jumping in here. This said‚ if you’re already a Sanderson fan and the passing mention of the word “Dawnshard” made you perk up or start breathing heavily (calm down there‚ Chickens)‚ then this book is definitely for you. A delightful mix of tension‚ intrigue‚ and Cosmere lore‚ The Sunlit Man is sure to enthrall all you die-hard Sanderson enthusiasts. Free up your copperminds and prepare to salivate over hundreds of hints‚ titillating and tantalizing revelations‚ and all new mysteries that will have you throwing back your head and cackling “Oh Brandon‚ you tease!” all bundled into one of Sanderson’s signature fantastic plots. The main character‚ Nomad‚ will seem familiar in all the right ways and you’ll be intrigued throughout by the hints of things you know and the things you don’t. (Yet.) It’s just enough to whet your appetite and keep you looking forward to the next book (Stormlight 5‚ is that you?) while sating your appetite for answers for the time being. Buy the Book The Sunlit Man Bandon Sanderson A Cosmere Novel Buy Book icon-close The Sunlit Man Bandon Sanderson A Cosmere Novel A Cosmere Novel Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleIndieBoundTarget Speaking of which: the three Cosmere-related Secret Projects (Tress of the Emerald Sea‚ Yumi and the Nightmare Painter‚ and now The Sunlit Man) have all dropped a ton of hints and lore. With Wind and Truth looming on the horizon‚ we thought now might be the perfect time for a brief recap of everything we’ve learned so far… WARNING! Beyond this point there be spoilers! Consider yerselves warned‚ Cosmere Chickens! If ye haven’t read ALL of the three Secret Projects listed above and don’t want to be spoiled‚ DO NOT PROCEED FURTHER! Arrrrrr. Ye’ve been warned. * * * * * * * * * Still here? All right. Here we go. Let’s begin with Hoid. He features prominently in both Tress and Yumi‚ serving as the narrator of both pieces‚ and shows up briefly in Sunlit Man as well. In Tress‚ Hoid’s lost a wager with Riina‚ an Elantrian‚ who was disguised as “the Sorceress of the Midnight Sea.” (For more on Riina and the Ire‚ see: Mistborn: Secret History.) He had bet her that if he could break her curse‚ she would grant him access to Elantris and the power of AonDor (for more on that‚ see Elantris). The curse placed on him stripped him of his sense of humor‚ sense of style‚ sense of decorum‚ sense of purpose‚ intelligence‚ and sense of self. In order to break the curse‚ he would need to return to the central room of the Sorceress’ ship on her island‚ and was forbidden from telling anyone about it. His kandra friend Ulaam was aboard the ship as well (for more about the kandra‚ see the Mistborn series). At the conclusion of the book‚ Hoid is granted the powers of AonDor‚ which I’m sure will be significant later on. It’s also worth pointing out here that the dragon Xisisrefliel makes an appearance beneath the sea at one point as well (dragons show up so rarely in Sanderson’s books that it’s always worthwhile to point them out). In Yumi‚ Hoid’s been trapped as a statue in the noodle shop and is being used as a coat rack for most of the book. This was due to the protection measures that he instituted to prevent other entities from interfering with his Investiture after recovering from Odium’s destruction of his Breaths (for more on Odium‚ see the Stormlight Archive. For more on Breaths‚ see Warbreaker). These measures were activated when‚ immediately upon his arrival‚ the father machine attempted to absorb his Investiture to power itself. After the father machine was destroyed by Yumi‚ and the attempts to absorb his Investiture thus halted‚ Hoid was freed from his stasis. He planned with Design (for more on Design‚ see the Stormlight Archive) to disguise themselves as astronauts and steal a ship‚ allowing them to travel to the nearby Iron Seven Waystation (this will likely be coming up again in the Mistborn series when Sanderson eventually gets that civilization to space travel‚ as planned). When Hoid’s apprentice Sigzil arrived on Canticle in The Sunlit Man‚ Sigzil’s spren Auxiliary used some Investiture they had acquired to temporarily reinforce Sigzil’s Connection to Hoid‚ allowing Hoid to appear before Sigzil as an illusion (for more on Sigzil‚ see the Stormlight Archive). Sigzil remained angry with Hoid for over past betrayals‚ feeling as if he had been tricked and used by Wit when he was asked to take up the Dawnshard‚ and forced into his life of fleeing the Night Brigade. (As of now‚ we have no idea what most of this is in regards to. It may come up in a future Stormlight novel‚ or even in another novel in which Sigzil has traveled to another world. We just don’t know.) Much about Sigzil remains a puzzle: What’s he doing here? How did he get the Dawnshard? Why? What happened to his original spren? Why does he have another one? There are a lot of questions here‚ and who knows when we’ll get the answers? (Hopefully in December when Wind and Truth is released‚ but there’s no way to know for certain.) Does Kaladin know he’s here? What about the rest of Bridge Four? The Night Brigade that’s chasing him is from Threnody‚ of which we know very little… Phew. Let’s shift gears a little and move over to discussing some of the interesting powers and investitures displayed in the Secret Projects. I hesitate to call Tress of the Emerald Sea’s twelve varieties of spores‚ or aethers‚ a magic system. They’re not really Investiture? Or are they? While each has a very different effect when exposed to different stimuli‚ I would hesitate to call it Investiture per se—it’s not energy in the same way that most of the other planets manifest it. A note here: spore eaters seem to be at least tangentially related to the aetherbound we’ve seen show up in Mistborn: The Lost Metal (his name was Prasanva). Yumi and the Nightmare Painter has a pretty fascinating magic system. In the beginning of the story‚ when the machine is still functioning‚ we’ve got the hion lines and the yoki-hijo creating a nice dichotomy between technology and tradition. After the machine is destroyed‚ the hijo will continue to supply the hion lines with power so the surface of the planet won’t get so hot as it used to. It appears that Investiture here won’t be used the same way that it is on most planets in the Cosmere‚ in which a person harnesses it and unleashes it. (In a way‚ that’s sort of how it was being used‚ if we consider the hijo to be Investiture before the yoki-hijo drew them with their stone stacking and then “unleashed” them to be used in specific uses. The hion energy was harnessed and used in a more general sense‚ in the same way electricity is in the real world.) It is worth noting that the Shard in this system of the Cosmere is Virtuosity‚ whose primary Intent is artistic talent. Fitting‚ isn’t it? Lastly‚ getting back to The Sunlit Man: The sun that Canticle revolves around emits vast quantities of Investiture‚ which is wild. It supercharges the growth of plants‚ but the extreme temperatures also incinerate anything unfortunate enough to be caught out in it. Aside from the sun‚ Investiture on the planet manifests through simmering stones which Nomad nicknames embers. Such embers are used as power sources and can be injected into people‚ replacing the heart. People implanted with embers are granted enhanced reflexes and strength. (There are some parallels with heat transfer and transferring breaths if you’re familiar with Warbreaker‚ too…) Honestly‚ this is only a tiny little taste of the wealth of lore that’s to be found in these pages‚ so let’s discuss: What hints were you most excited about? What mysteries are you most intrigued by? What did you think of The Sunlit Man‚ and what’s your favorite out of all the Secret Project books? Sound off in the comments‚ Chickens‚ and let us know![end-mark] The post What <;i>;The Sunlit Man<;/i>; and Other Secret Projects Have Revealed About Sanderson’s Cosmere appeared first on Reactor.

Excerpts Science Fiction Read an Excerpt From Natasha Pulley’s The Mars House A new queer SF novel about privilege‚ strength‚ and life across class divisions. By Natasha Pulley | Published on March 5‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Mars House by Natasha Pulley‚ a queer science fiction novel about a marriage of convenience between a Mars politician and an Earth refugee—out from Bloomsbury on March 19. In the wake of an environmental catastrophe‚ January‚ once a principal in London’s Royal Ballet‚ has become a refugee in Tharsis‚ the terraformed colony on Mars. There‚ January’s life is dictated by his status as an Earthstronger-a person whose body is not adjusted to lower gravity and so poses a danger to those born on‚ or naturalized to‚ Mars. January’s job choices‚ housing‚ and even transportation are dictated by this second-class status‚ and now a xenophobic politician named Aubrey Gale is running on a platform that would make it all worse: Gale wants all Earthstrongers to naturalize‚ a process that is always disabling and sometimes deadly.When Gale chooses January for an on-the-spot press junket interview that goes horribly awry‚ January’s life is thrown into chaos‚ but Gale’s political fortunes are damaged‚ too. Gale proposes a solution to both their problems: a five year made-for-the-press marriage that would secure January’s future without naturalization and ensure Gale’s political success. But when January accepts the offer‚ he discovers that Gale is not at all like they appear in the press. They’re kind‚ compassionate‚ and much more difficult to hate than January would prefer. As their romantic relationship develops‚ the political situation worsens‚ and January discovers Gale has an enemy‚ someone willing to destroy all of Tharsis to make them pay-and January may be the only person standing in the way. January didn’t sleep much‚ not because he was worried about the flood‚ but because nobody had any saline solution and he had to throw away his lenses. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get home half blind. He lived in Hackney‚ which was over the far side of the city‚ and he hated the idea of asking anyone to help him get there. Most of the company were just like Terry; still children really‚ and though everyone was incredibly kind‚ it was asking too much. He jolted awake because somewhere close by on the canal‚ a lonely flood siren was going off‚ but muffled; he had a feeling that the angry lady who ran the coffee shop on the corner had stuffed a tea-towel in it. He got up carefully. Everyone was asleep on the floor‚ bundled up in nests of blankets and cushions stolen from the nice seats in the auditorium. He skirted the edge of the room‚ not at all able to tell if he was about to step on a person or just a suggestively shaped ball of bedding. When he got to the window‚ he had to stare for a long time to put together what he was seeing‚ blurred as it all was. The canal water was right below the window. Covent Garden had flooded up to the second floor‚ and all around it‚ people were sitting on roofs.1 It was still raining. Opposite‚ a man he usually only ever saw dressed in a suit‚ getting cross into a phone at the café‚ was sitting on a fold-up chair under a bivouac‚ cooking something on a gas stove. A puffin was sitting on the windowsill‚ looking just as interested to have found a January as January was to have found a puffin. Puffins were always much tinier than he imagined‚ and the markings on their faces made them look sad‚ but this one seemed cheerful. It had some fish. It must not have minded people‚ because it waddled across to sit by his arm. He was wearing black; maybe it thought he was just a giant puffin. In a bright orange canoe‚ just opposite him on the canal‚ Always Angry Lady from the café lifted a hand. He only knew it was her because she always wore the same yellow head scarf. January waved. “Hi. Anything on the news?” “Horrible disaster‚ emergency services in crisis‚ everyone at Westminster’s fucked off to fucking Manchester‚” she said. “Right. Where are you off to?” he asked‚ in case it was a sensible idea everyone here could copy. “See if I can get a boat out to Peterborough.” He didn’t know anyone in Peterborough. With a lurch‚ he realized that he didn’t know anyone anywhere but here. His mum’s vineyard in Cornwall had been sold to a French family with a poodle and triplets. They knew him by sight‚ because her grave was on the edge of the land and he visited it sometimes‚ but that was it. “Good luck‚” he said. “Fuck it all‚” she said‚ and paddled off. Buy the Book The Mars House Natasha Pulley Buy Book icon-close The Mars House Natasha Pulley Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget He jumped when‚ somewhere over the rooftops‚ something exploded. It was a deep bang that juddered the skeleton of the building. The puffin jumped too‚ and whirred away. The conductor touched his shoulder. “Internet’s gone‚” she said. “I think we need to get out and find out what’s going on. And some food. There’s twenty-five people here.” “How?” She pointed downwards. There was a lost rowing boat bumping against the wall. After a murmured discussion with the director‚ they climbed down into it‚ January to row and the conductor to navigate. Without much hope‚ they tried supermarkets first. Everything was flooded. The front doors were underwater. They had to give up. Instead‚ they concluded that what was needed was to find some people who might know what was going on or where you could get help. As always‚ there were beacon lights punching up to the storm clouds above St Paul’s Cathedral‚ and hologram signs to say that you could find shelter there if you had nowhere else. It would have news screens too. The two of them hesitated‚ because it was a long way to row‚ but it was downriver and the current would carry them toward the cathedral‚ at least. By the time they guided the little boat up to the great bulk of the cathedral‚ January’s hands were raw‚ even where he had wrapped his sleeves over them. Away from the silt of the Thames‚ the water here was very‚ very clear‚ and blue; he could see right down to the ancient steps‚ thirty feet below the hull. Plenty of other people had had the same idea‚ and the way in was crowded—the vast doors formed a bottleneck as people had to slow down to duck under the arch of the portico—but it was eerily quiet. The only voices came from the high screens projecting the news down into the gloom of the aisle‚ and the thousands of little boats floating there. The muted light from the stained glass windows patterned people and water in colours. January and the conductor eased their boat into a space close to a statue of a saint which‚ when it had been set there‚ must have been twenty feet above the ground. Now‚ the water rippled around the hem of its robe. The news was being projected around the inside of the great dome. Although there were speakers everywhere‚ it was hard to hear; the echoes were so severe it all sounded as though everything was being said twice‚ half a second apart. The conductor‚ who had been standing up to direct him‚ sat down next to him now on the bench. In the boat next to theirs‚ an exhausted-looking man lifted his tiny daughter out to sit at the saint’s feet. “… emergency restrictions banning all travel. Flooding is widespread beyond the capital‚ presenting a significant danger to life. The national rail network has suspended services across the south and southeast. The Prime Minister‚ who was evacuated to Manchester late last night‚ has pledged emergency aid to the capital as soon as possible.” As soon as possible didn’t sound very soon. On the way back to the theatre‚ the two of them broke into the top floor of a camping shop and stole gas stoves‚ torches‚ batteries‚ and everything else they could think of that might be useful. They found a supermarket on the upper floor of a shopping centre too‚ open and crowded‚ shelves emptying fast. He waited in the boat while the conductor hurried in‚ tense‚ because he had watched someone tip a girl out of her boat into the water to steal it two minutes before. Perhaps he looked big enough to be trouble‚ or perhaps there were just better boats around‚ but nobody tried anything. The sky was grey and quiet. Very quiet. There were no helicopters. After a week‚ it was impossible to get enough food‚ and they rationed. Then they rationed more. Down the street‚ a lady who’d had the presence of mind to take a fishing rod onto the roof with her caught salmon and brought some around to everyone she could‚ but it wasn’t much. January had never been so hungry. They spray-painted SOS—25 PEOPLE onto the roof‚ and all along the street‚ people did the same. In fits and starts‚ most of the dancers tried to leave‚ just in case they still had a home to go to‚ but everyone came back pale and shocked‚ with stories of whole streets underwater. January tried too‚ only to find that the entire canal where he lived was sealed off‚ the water littered with dead sea birds. There were exposed electrical lines under there somewhere‚ a ragged emergency worker explained. It was a miracle he hadn’t been at home. On the morning of the fifteenth day‚ he wondered for the first time if they might actually die here‚ if it had been stupid to wait so long‚ if they should all have found boats and rowed as far as they could while they still had the energy and the supplies. The helicopter came two hours after that. The crew spoke only Mandarin‚ and nobody in the company did apart from school-level stuff‚ but they managed to be reassuring all the same. The director put all the youngest kids on the first round‚ then was hustled onto the second herself. January was among the last. He was so exhausted by then that he could hardly hold on to the harness on the way up. At the top‚ the deck was already full of other rescued people‚ some of them ebullient and some‚ like him‚ numb with relief. He couldn’t make them out well. He still couldn’t see properly‚ and he was beginning to realize that he was going to be stuck like that for a while now. It didn’t matter any more. He let his head bump against the wall‚ listening to the roar of the engine. He had no idea where they were going‚ but as they veered away‚ he found he didn’t care‚ and when they landed at an airfield where people in orange jackets were handing out food parcels and blankets‚ he was so happy to see dry ground that he almost didn’t understand when a translator came around with a clipboard and asked if he would like to seek asylum in Tharsis. “Where’s that?” he managed. He opened the food parcel‚ in which there was a wonderful‚ inexplicable packet of marshmallows. They tasted so good that it was hard to think. He offered the translator one. He had been looking around for the rest of the company‚ but he couldn’t see anyone. Other people were saying that the helicopters were taking different loads of people to different camps to try and even out numbers. “Mars‚” the man said gently‚ shaking his head at the marshmallow offer. “The Chinese colony? They’re funding this centre. Ships are coming‚ for refugees.” Ships are coming. January hadn’t realized how used he was to the certainty that no one was coming‚ and no one ever would come‚ because they never did. To hear that they were—he didn’t even know what that swell of feeling was. Not relief‚ because relief implied somehow that you’d been aware of feeling bad before‚ and not even gratitude‚ because you were grateful when someone passed you the salt or when they remembered your birthday. That wasn’t what you felt when someone you had never met sent ships from another world. Not far away‚ another translator was trying to dissuade a big family from travelling to Saudi Arabia. The coast guard there‚ she was saying‚ were turning back refugee boats. People were drowning. And don’t even think about trying to get a visa. They say they’re making visas available‚ but that means they’ll let about five people in and call it a day. No‚ it doesn’t matter if your mother’s already there. They don’t care. Half the world wants to get to Dubai. Unless you’re a rocket scientist‚ forget it. January blinked hard and realized he’d lost the thread of what his translator was saying. His hearing had tuned out. “Say again‚ sorry?” he said. It was bizarre‚ the fog in his head. He could only just peer through it at passing thoughts. Most of them were to do with marshmallows. “We can get you going with the paperwork now‚” the translator repeated‚ as if it were all normal. “They’ve made it very straightforward.” January swallowed. “I can just—go? Just like that?” “Just like that‚ honey‚” the man said. “It’s disaster relief. And Tharsis always needs immigrants. It’s a big move‚ but honestly‚ no legal hurdles here. They really do want people. You won’t sit in some miserable camp for months‚ and there’s no restrictions on refugees working. There are restrictions on what Earthstrong people can do‚ but even so. There’s more work than they’ve got people to do it. Basic stuff‚ but—it’s work.” “Earthstrong…?” “The gravity there is only a third of ours. It can be pretty dangerous to let you just walk around when you’ve come straight from here.” The man hesitated. “Been a bit of a kerfuffle about it lately‚ but it’s still better than Saudi or China.” It was the first time that January really understood that normal life was over. He had thought he might die‚ but he hadn’t thought about what would happen if he lived. London wasn’t going to recover. There would be no more theatre. There was probably no getting to other countries either; the floods must have displaced millions of people‚ which would mean millions pouring towards international borders. Those borders were already slamming shut. The simple‚ stupid truth was that all he wanted to do was go where there was food and heat. He was aching less with hunger than a kind of shock that it was so easy for everything to just collapse‚ for life to go from boring visits to the café and wondering if it was extravagant to get hot chocolate instead of coffee‚ to—this. He felt like he would agree to anything just to make it stop‚ even though he hadn’t even had that bad a time and it hadn’t lasted very long‚ and actually he was fine. He didn’t know the first thing about Tharsis‚ but he did know he didn’t have it in him to try and get to Riyadh or Lagos or Beijing. He wasn’t made of hard enough stuff for that. And the famous thing about Mars was that there was no water. That sounded pretty bloody marvellous. “Yes please‚” he said. “I’d like to go.” Excerpted from The Mars House‚ copyright © 2024 by Natasha Pulley. To foreigners‚ it seemed stupid for England to have a capital city that spent most of its time sinking‚ but the fact was that most of London—when it was built—was only ever about four metres above the level of the Thames. The lofty hills of Bloomsbury and Mayfair (a whole thirty-eight metres above sea level) still had to have canals. Unfortunately those canals also tended to flood the moment they saw some rain‚ which was usually‚ much to the ire of the people who owned the increasingly devalued town houses‚ and much to the joy of the local octopus population‚ who then gained access to some pretty exciting wine cellars. ︎The post Read an Excerpt From Natasha Pulley’s <;em>;The Mars House<;/em>; appeared first on Reactor.

WWE 2K24 has many features that have been brought over from games like NBA 2K24. One of those things is the ability to upload images into the game. It adds a sense of personality and can make the experience unique. You should follow the steps in this guide to learn how to upload an image in WWE 2K24. WWE 2K24: How to upload an image The cool thing about uploading pictures is that it’s deep in what you can do once you have an image in the game. You can create arenas and place custom photos on your banner or portrait. If you’ve played WWE 2K22‚ you’re probably aware of the face photos. This is something you can do in the latest installment as well. Uploading the image is a process that isn’t best explained well in WWE 2K24. Use this guide if you want to add your flair to the game. How to upload an image Moving an image into the game is quite easy. You just need to know where to go to upload the image. First head to the WWE 2Ks site to upload an image. Press...