2008 honda accord length

I’m thinking of getting the 2020 Honda Accord sport 2.0T . For those that have owned the car, what do you wish you knew before you got it. And if you got a chance to drive the manual and the automatic models which did you prefer?

I’m thinking of getting the 2020 Honda Accord 2.0T . For those that have owned the car, what do you wish you knew before you got it. And if you got a chance to drive the manual and the automatic models which did you prefer?
Mod suggestions would be appreciated too.
Thanks and have a good day 👍🏿

So I forgot my password to my favorite side account. The email has been [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) since 2010. I have access to [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]). But when I try to send myself the password reset email, it never gets delivered. I get emails from [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]) there though.
Alice confirmed my email on the account was [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]), but asked me for my original email (from 2008). I didn't remember it but she gave me a hint and it ended up being [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]). I don't have access to this email and according to aol this email doesn't even exist.
She asked me to send the ticket # from [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]). I told her this email didn't exist, and why couldn't I send her the ticket # from [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]), the current email on my account that she herself confirmed?
Am I going crazy? This is an IT issue where their automated password reset email isn't being sent. Why is it so hard to send me a manual PW reset link? Why do I have do jump through all these hoops for the original email when I have access to my current one? I have access to my current email and just need support receiving the PW reset link.
Can anyone give me advice with dealing with TNT?
If their automated email worked I'd be back in my account already. Should I ask for a different TNT person?

Where is located the catalytic converter? Is it near the engine like the accord? Any concern about what thieves want? Wheels?
Also, my dealership has a “mandatory” add-on accessories including “Honda wheel locks, really nice Honda all-weather floor mats front and back, and a Honda cargo tray” for $1155. It is MSRP for the car for hybrid.

I guess I just want confirmation that this is a thing that exists. Everything I've found on false memories is about the power of suggestion, which is different from what I've experienced.
There's nothing suggesting these memories to me before I remember them that I can think of. It's just that, every so often, I find out that something I remember never actually happened.
I remember my car being a Toyota Corolla, but it's actually a Honda Accord. My dad summarized a movie for me, but I fabricated a different plot and was confused when I watched it. I remember reading about things online like a year ago, but when I looked it up again today there was nothing.
It doesn't happen frequently enough to be a serious concern, but all three of these happened in the last few months. It freaks me out a bit because it's memories that I had no reason to question

July, 2020.
Ever since my colleagues and I became unwilling test subjects in my psychotic professor’s experiments into awakening the supernatural, we have had multiple people trying to hunt us down. Whether they were renowned scientists desperate for the serum for themselves or random people obsessed with cutting us open and seeing how we ticked, these assholes didn’t care that we were human beings, that we were ex researchers ourselves.
They wanted us dead or alive, in pieces, or splattered across concrete. As long as they got that precious serum dripping from our frontal lobe, they didn’t give a fuck. There were varieties of hunters. Some of them tried to play nice with their own nefarious agenda, while others were completely fucking insane. Like the ones who saw us as a mistake; a curse sent from god to end humanity as we know it.
Yeah. They thought we were the next coming of the Antichrist.
Have you ever been stripped completely naked and forced to bathe in salt water for three days without food and water?
That is when I lost my will to fight.
I still remember the sensation of flames licking at my feet, rope wrapped around my wrists pinning me to a tree. They wanted me to admit I was a monster. That I was a curse from the devil and belonged in hellfire. I’ll spend this post elaborating on what exactly our professor did to us, and the burden forced onto our backs—but I will say it saved us at points. For example, the freaks who tried to cleanse us in salt water (and then burn us under a full moon) got their comeuppance. 2020 is probably a year in your lives which didn’t feel real.
You were locked inside and you probably compared what was happening to a movie. We had a similar problem. But while you were struggling through lockdown, trying to fight a wave spreading globally, we found ourselves with bounty’s on our heads. Because we were no longer human to these bastards, and to them? Anything went. Which was bad news for our professor who had fought to keep his research as private as possible, choosing to show only a select group with shiny money bags for eyes. It turns out, no matter how much you think you’re hiding something, it will always be leaked. And people will find out.
Bad people.
The kinds of people in all of my favorite movies as a kid. You know, the evil trigger-happy British guy obsessed with finding buried treasure? Him. But tenfold. I might have felt special about the multi-billion price-tag on me, but knowing all they wanted me for was to dissect and slice me apart like meat to the slaughter—yeah. I can’t say I was thrilled to have so many people after our little group. 2020 was the year when people stopped being human. Stopped trying to be human. All morality down the drain.
Of these certain groups trying to capture us, there was a specific one which I will always remember. Seth’s gang. I’ll remember them because it was the first time I realised my colleagues and I weren’t human anymore, and maybe the freaks trying to label us as The Devil’s Children were right. There were a lot of people after us, as I said. But Seth and his gang, however, just wanted us for the sake of gloating. After hearing of our professor’s experiments, these guys decided they didn’t want the serum, or the research.
They just wanted us. For what, I still don’t know. They weren’t scientists, or in the medical field. They definitely weren’t at the auction, I would have seen them. I’m pretty sure these were just ordinary guys seeing us as nothing but trophies to parade around. I don’t think they knew the significance of the serum, or the danger of it. They saw something shiny and thought to hell with it. Which, I guess looking back, was why we were always two steps ahead despite having 9mm Glock’s shoved in our faces. The hotel room we were being held in was a step up from the cage I had been trapped inside in the lab for the last several months.
It actually had air-con.
Sitting blindfolded on the edge of a queen sized bed wearing the same clothes which were practically glued to my flesh, the graze of cool air brushing the back of my neck and relieving blistering skin was euphoric. I hadn’t had a proper shower in weeks. Maybe months.
It was the first time in a long while I actually felt human. Even when my wrists were pinned behind my back, a slab of ductape suffocating my mouth and nose. Now, I wasn’t completely sure, but I wondered if there was a duct tape shortage on the island. After being kidnapped and held in multiple places, I had never been gagged with duct tape. It was always filthy clothing fashioned into a makeshift gag, or ties and shoelaces. I will never forget some asshole stuffing a pair of panties in my mouth.
Seth’s gang were the first to actually have duct tape and proper blindfolds. I sensed the front-man’s footsteps as he paced in front of us. Despite being blindfolded, I knew he had a gun tucked into his belt, a dagger strapped to his ankle, and a grenade for emergencies. I wasn’t sure what emergencies would justify blowing up a fancy hotel room. Next to me, Riss was practically vibrating with fury. She knew not to act on her fear, because when we did, bad shit happened.
But Riss was a different breed. She didn’t listen to me when we were human, and definitely didn’t listen to me when we were freakish experiments contorted into something resembling a human. No matter how many times I nudged her with reassurance, she inched away from me like I had the plague. “Project Mildew, huh?” The front-man had one hell of an aussie accent. Without my sight, the rest of my senses were expanding, igniting.
Smell. I could smell the stink of myself, body odour and filth caked into my skin. Taste. There was copper in my throat and coating my teeth and tongue. Every step the man made, I felt it prickling in my bones. I sensed him crouching in front of Kaian, who thankfully didn’t move. I was waiting for him to. If I concentrated, I could feel the air crackling with electricity, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms standing up. Just being shoulder to shoulder with my colleague allowed me to feel exactly what he was feeling.
And like Riss, the guy was dangerously close to blowing a fuse. Kaian wasn’t stupid though. If we did something, he knew the consequences of that something. And none of us wanted that. So, staying quiet and submissive it was.
“Alex Quincy’s diamonds!” The front-man flicked me in the forehead, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to avoid going into sensory overload. He continued in a sing-song voice, his steps becoming playful, like he was dancing. Every so often I sensed his fingers wrapping around his 9mm. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as I initially thought. “Project Mildew.” He repeated. “You looked better on camera.”
Riss scoffed under her gag. I don’t think this asshole understood that on camera we were still human. It’s not like I was planning on going to a fashion show, but the shorts and t-shirt combo I had been wearing for weeks were comfortable.
Another step. Holding my breath, I gripped the ropes entangling my wrists and prayed they were physical enough to be an anchor.
“The testers who became the tested!” He continued. “Ohhh, man. I’ve heard about you. You’re famous here. Professor Quincy’s human lab rats! And successful ones too! You’ve got a lot of eyes on ya, ain’t cha? Too bad we gotcha first. Yeah, that’s right. We got here first.”
The guy laughed, and I felt both Riss and Kaian start to tremble. Fuck. Not now. I had to keep them at bay, even when my methods weren’t exactly stellar. I had to keep them from plunging. The rope around my wrists wasn’t too tight, and I knew I’d be able to get out of it easily. But that would require strength and energy which was for sure a trigger. There were a lot of triggers. Anger and pain. Sometimes even happiness.
It turned out basic human emotions was what this thing thrived off, so to avoid us going nuclear I had to stay stoic. No matter how much I wanted to tear off this asshole’s face, I had to keep myself together. It only took one slip up before things got really fucking brutal, really fucking fast. I wasn’t surprised my colleagues were losing control. Seth was quite the character, almost like a cartoon villain.
“Damn. I’ve been looking for guard dogs, but I think we’ve found something better, aye.” His palmy fingers wandered where they shouldn’t have, grazing over my left breast and delving under my shirt, causing my body to seize up, and then relaxing slightly when he pulled off my blindfold.
Blinking rapidly, I found myself eye-to-eye with the guy who had snatched us from the lab and thrown us into the back of his truck. I only got glimpses of him during our kidnapping, thanks to the ski-mask covering his face. Now I was looking at a man who was maybe in his early thirties with a balding head and a vicious cartoon smile twisted with mania. His eyes glinted when I found myself shuffling back, my gaze flashing to the Glock strapped to his side. Seth pulled off the other’s blindfolds.
“Now, I don’t want any funny business, alright? I watched that conference, and I know what you can do.” He stuck the barrel of his 9mm into my right temple, and next to me, Kaian ducked his head. “I’m watching you sweetheart.” Seth’s smile widened into a sickening grin. “If you start any weird shit, I’ll blow your brains out.”
I did my best to nod, and he ripped the tape off of our mouths too.
“Alright!” Seth straightened up, eyeing us like we were hunks of meat. “Nice to meet cha! I’ll be looking after you guys from now on.”
“Looking after us?” I spoke up, my voice gravelly. “You mean you’ll be cutting into us and selling our brains on the black market.”
Seth laughed like a fucking hyena. “What?” He scratched the back of his head with his gun. “Nah, that’s fucked up. We just want dogs.”
The man’s smile dampened, however, when his gaze settled on Kaian. Gesturing to my colleague with his gun, he scowled. “What’s wrong with him? Did Quincy rip out the guy’s tongue?” Before I could answer, Seth crouched in front of Kaian with narrowed eyes. “You all spoke at the conference,” he murmured. “Sure, your professor forced you, but you introduced yourselves. All of you did, even your fourth."
His smile curled. "All except him."
Fuck.
A shiver ripped its way down my spine when Seth shot out a finger and pointed at my colleague, and my mouth started to dry up.
Kaian was perfectly reading his lips, every word curled under his tongue, his eyes flicking back and forth to drink in each one, and each word brought more heat, brought more goosebumps pricking on my arms and legs. Kaian’s body pressed against mine was overheating.
I could feel the sensation coming over my body, like a wave of pressure. Riss made a squeaking noise, and I concentrated on Seth—who didn’t seem to notice it. I’ve come to realise, whether you are a human, an animal, or a badly fucked up experiment created in a lab, it doesn’t matter what you are capable of. If you initially appear weak and powerless, the stronger will single you out. Seth was enjoying himself so much he didn’t realise the skin in his cheeks start to crack from all the moisture being sucked from the air. Kaian didn’t move or speak, and that seemed to thrill him even more.
“Speak.” Seth snarled, leaning closer until he was inches from my colleagues face.
“Speak!”
“He’s deaf.” I gritted out.
Seth’s eyes darkened. “Deaf, huh? He better be worth it.” Kaian didn’t flinch when the man grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back. He was completely stoic, like a puppet severed from his strings, allowing the asshole to stick his Glock between his eyes. I noticed the air move slightly around us, blurring and then coming together. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment, and I had spent months being taught how to notice it. “Three and a half million dollars each, hmm?” Seth said in a breath, dragging the butt of his gun down my colleagues face, grazing it across the flesh of his neck. “I don’t remember paying for a fucking mute. You can learn to talk, kid."
Again, Kaian didn’t even acknowledge the man, and that infuriated him even more. “Hey!” Seth grabbed his jaw, forcing Kaian to look at him. “Are you fucking listening to me? Open your mouth. You either speak or you die. Like I said, I didn’t pay half a million each for a mute.”
Riss must have noticed the significant change in the air and temperature. Between the two of us, it was our job to stop Kaian from plunging.
“You didn’t spend shit on us.” She spoke up with a hiss. Riss was already panicked, and that wasn’t good. “You took us from the lab while everyone else was at the auction because you couldn’t afford us. Which makes me wonder how you afforded this fancy five star hotel."
I had to swallow a yell. I wanted her to stall, not give the guy a reason to start going trigger-happy.
Seth’s narrowed eyes found Riss’s. “Your professor and I had an agreement, sweetheart,” he said. "How 'bout I blow your brains out, huh? Since you like speaking out of turn. And I don’t like my doggies speaking out of turn.”
As Seth moved closer to her, I sensed Riss freaking out. It was too early for her to start the plunge, but she was the most unpredictable out of the four of us. Just like when she was human, her emotions were all over the place. Still though, she maintained a scowl and refused to move when Seth was practically eye to eye with her, hot breath grazing her cheeks. The man prodded her in her right temple. “I bet you’re filled to the brim with all that fancy ass Quincy serum." He dragged his filthy finger down her cheek, and she squeaked. “I’m pretty sure I can just crack you open and take it for myself.”
“Then…” Riss swallowed, choking on her words. I nudged her again, this time enough to shake the bed. But she wasn’t looking at me, her eyes starting to lose vacancy. Next to me, I knew the same thing was happening to Kaian.
But I wouldn’t look at him yet. If I did, I would lose it myself. “Then you’ll be losing valuable cargo.” I was surprised when her lips broke out into an equally psychotic grin. I had no doubt the plunge was taking hold of her. She leaned back almost casually, and the air seemed to move around her, seeping into her skin and taking an unyielding hold. "Considering the crazy lengths you took to capture all of us, I doubt you want that. You're all bark with no bite, asshole."
“Riss.” I said through my teeth, at the exact same time as the air-con behind us blew a fuse and crashed to the ground. “Shut up.”
The plunge started slow, but even when it was barely a prickle in the air it was already beginning its slow purging of every particle.
I watched a mosquito that had been in mid-flight towards the fancy looking lamp on the nightstand bleed into invisible folds of energy which were becoming progressively more visible to the naked eye the more my friends plunged. I could see it perfectly. Like the world around us was beginning to splinter apart. Ignoring Riss, who could stand up for herself, Seth’s attention went back to Kaian, who couldn’t. Or at least that was his façade. Kaian had been labelled the most dangerous out of all of Quincy’s experiments. But it wasn’t just because of the plunge.
“I’m talking to you!” Seth prodded my colleague’s chest, and a wave of heat slammed into me, stealing my breath away. I watched, knowing it was all going to be over in matter of seconds. The front-man grabbed my colleague by the collar of his shirt and yanked him violently to his feet. “You’ve got two seconds to speak,” He spat, before slamming the butt of his gun into Kaian’s head. “Speak, or I give you a frontal lobotomy.” Seth continued in seething breaths, and got closer and closer, failing to notice he was already losing. But so were we.
His lips split into a grin. “Speak, or I start asking questions. Like why I bought four of you— and there are three of you.” He poked the metal prongs sticking from Kaian’s head. I liked to call them horns to make them sound cooler. But in reality, they were agonising when I was human—two pieces of metal drilled directly into the top of my skull. They had been a part of me for a while, but I wasn’t going to forget how they had been forcefully inserted into my skull. While I screamed. “Three. Little. Freaks.” Seth’s lips were practically kissing my colleague's temple.
He prodded the metal horns, and Kaian’s lip twitched. “Without their fourth.”
That struck a chord in both of them—and I knew if I didn’t do something, like right then, a fate worse than death awaited all of us.
"Leave him alone.” I found my voice tangled in my throat. But I could barely bring myself to speak. I felt like I was being fucking suffocated by two separate energy’s around me slowly but surely ripping atoms apart. In the corner of my eye, things were starting to melt into the ground, disappearing completely. The carpet in the room was suddenly singed black, and the wave continued, slicing off the tips of my hair I had only just managed to grow back. “He can’t hear you, asshole.” I said through lingering breaths. “Professor Quincy said he was deaf.”
"Deaf?” Seth let out a belly laugh. “He's my new guard dog and he's expected to fucking bark.” His lip curled,” Now. Speak.”
A second went by.
Then another.
Absent-mindedly, I licked the taste of rusty coins from the corner of my lip.
“I said speak!” Seth slammed the butt of his gun into my colleagues face again, but this time his words broke apart in his throat. I sensed every individual letter shattering into pieces when his body was flung back by an invisible force. I knew that invisible force. I knew the phantom fingers wrapping around his throat and slamming the man into the wall until he was screaming, begging, his feet hovering several feet from the ground. Kaian didn’t even have to pull apart his restraints.
Riss was already screaming, turning to my colleague. Her hands were free, and she was signing desperately. Don’t. Her eyes were wide, lips twisted. Because she knew exactly what would follow. Seth, somehow, managed a spluttered laugh between broken teeth like tiny yellow chicklets sticking from his mouth. “Oh, you don’t like that do you?” More brilliant red spurted like a fountain, and yet the asshole kept laughing. “Look at you! Quincy didn’t hold back on you did he?”
I’m not saying my colleague enjoyed crushing Seth’s windpipe without even lifting a finger—but that is exactly what I am saying.
With a simple incline of Kaian’s head, the front-man was rupturing from the inside, choking on organs erupting into his throat.
And like it thrilled him, the idea of death, the idea of dying at the hands of a supernatural force, Seth continued to roar with laughter.
My colleague was pressing pressure points which shouldn’t be pressed. Especially pressure points in a genetically fucked up man whose trauma had turned him into the wildcard of our group. The amount of shit we had all gone through inside Quincy’s lab was enough to send us into insanity. Except my colleague, according to Quincy, hadn’t responded correctly at the beginning. And being a researcher myself with rabbits before I became a lab rat, I knew the only way to get results was to cause pain.
I never initiated that pain in the rabbits, but I was an enabler. I watched my professor torture these subjects to make sure they were prepped and ready for the serum. Maybe our karma was that the exact same happened to us. But to Kaian, it was on a much larger scale. I was never briefed on what exactly happened to him during the months from March to June. Though it was obvious he had had it the worst. I didn’t know why. I didn’t understand why his brain was different, or maybe he was more resilient. He had been better at fighting it.
Kaian hated two things. Being kidnapped and said kidnappers mentioning our fourth member. And it was those things which made him plunge. Which made him lose all sense of humanity and morality and emotion, essentially turning him into a mindless beast. That was one half of the plunge. “Do you want me to say his name?” Seth coughed up spattered scarlet, and I could already see what was happening to him. Kaian had done enough damage externally. Internally, however? That was another story.
Internally, I sensed every organ starting to peel apart and splinter, bursting into nothing. It started with pressure on his heart which was slow and dragged so he felt everything. Then the brain began to expand. When blood ran in sharp rivulets from every orifice, and Seth screamed, howling like an animal, I looked away, just in time for the rest of the man’s body to pop like a balloon, and a chunk of his skull to land right in front of me. Riss started screaming, and I was half aware of a slight taint of warm blood like paint splattering the side of my face.
When I twisted back to look at him, his body was still hovering without a head, a skeletal hand lifting and waving at us.
Riss dropped to her knees, her head in her hands, trembling, and I followed her, trying to get some semblance of control.
“It’s been a week.” Riss whispered, sobbing, swiping at her eyes with bloody hands, making them worse. “Oh god, what if… what if I was right? What if we’re too late? I knew this was… this was a bad idea. But nobody listens to Riss. I knew he wouldn’t come. Fuck. I knew it.”
“Calm down.” I said. “Concentrate on happy birthday, okay? Do you want me to sing it with you?”
Riss spluttered. “We’re going to dieeee,” she sang. “Can you feel it? I’m plunging, Wren. God, it feels so fucking good.”
She knocked her head into the wall with crazy eyes.
It took exactly half a second for our brains to decide whether we were going to fight it or give in to it.
“Hey. Riss.” I spoke in reassuring hisses, grasping her shoulders and forcing her to look at me. “Happy birthday.” I choked out. “Three times. It has to be three times.” When she didn’t respond, I shook her until her cloudy found mine. Riss was plunging. Like Kaian. The blood vessels in her eyes had popped, her lips cracking apart. If I concentrated, I could see her bare knees starting to melt into air, wisps of her hair starting to disintegrate. “Do it, now!”
I shrieked when Kaian finally let go of the man’s body, and it hit the ground in front of us like a bad joke. “Happy birthday.” I said the mantra over and over again, shaking my colleague until she was responding. “Three times, Riss. Right now.” When she shook her head, screeching, I grabbed her hands and entangled her fingers with mine. “I’ll start, okay? And you follow me.”
To my surprise, Riss nodded—and for the fraction of a second, my colleague, or what was left of her, stopped bleeding into visible particles which were now around us, like a glistening wave of ocean water enveloping us. “Happy birthday to you…” I whispered, squeezing her hands tighter, relieved when she repeated the verse. When I was sure Riss was anchoring herself, I turned to Kaian who was sitting cross legged in front of the mutilated body.
My gaze went to the door. It would only be matter of time before Seth’s goons figured out something was wrong, and the last thing I wanted was them to walk in mid-plunge. “Happy birthday to…” I continued, allowing Riss to fill in a name—before focusing on my other colleague. I’m not exaggerating when I say Kaian was covered head to toe in blood, like it was his canvas, like he belonged in it. It was too late for him. I could already see that in his vacant and foggy eyes and playful smile that he had accepted the plunge.
Willingly.
“Gross.” Kaian signed, pulling a face. He turned his nose up at mutilated flesh and bone, and I had a hard time looking him in the eye.
I exhaled out a breath.
“Kaian.” I spoke and signed calmly, but my skin was prickling and scalding. I could feel the flesh on the backs of my hands peeling off. “Happy birthday.” I made sure to emphasize every word clearly, even when I knew he could read every word from my mouth without even trying.
He started to shake his head, and I glimpsed that panic, the trauma of the last several months starting to bloom behind his eyes.
“No, you have to do it.” I hissed out. “Look around you.” I signed. “If you don’t do it, we’re going to plunge.”
I was practically slamming my hands together with frustration, but he shook his head, his gaze going elsewhere.
“What if I…” He paused signing, his lip curling, “Like it?”
Do you know when you know something is wrong but you keep shoving it to the back of your head until you can’t ignore it anymore?
Yeah, this was one of those moments.
I loved Kaian. I loved him like a brother. But there was something about his face, the way he delved his fingers into startling red pooling on the carpet, that made me want to get as far away from him as possible. Swallowing hard, I shook away the thought and grabbed hold of his hand.
Once I did, the air around us wavered, and flesh on his cheeks started to flake. “Happy birthday…” Riss, who was sitting with what was left of her knees pressed to her chest, choked out a sob, “This isn’t working… Wren. This isn’t fucking working. I can’t.. I can’t fucking do this.” When she beat the floor with crumbling fists, the whole room jolted. The ground beneath us shook, and Kaian shot me a panicked look. Even plunging, he was still scared.
And I didn’t blame him.
After telling Riss to continue, I managed a smile and signed, “Earthquake.”
My colleague’s lips split into an unusual grin, and he mouthed the words, “Yeah right.”
With steely eyes, Kaian’s smile faded and for once he actually looked serious. “Jem.” He signed. “I don’t think he’s coming for us.”
Ignoring a conversation I really didn’t want to have, I focused on the body. “Check his pockets,” I signed back. “We don’t have much time.”
I pulled out a passport, some Indonesian currency, and an old plane ticket.
Checking his phone didn’t help. I was just reminded the boarders were still shut, and this asshole had a whole group chat gloating about his so-called guard dogs.
“Wren!”
When I lifted my head, Riss’s wild eyes were flickering around the room, drinking in parts of reality being sucked away.
Her mouth became lopsided, lips drooping like my colleague was having a stroke from the pressure building around her.
See, I describe this in a lot of detail like this lasted around five to minutes long. But no, all of this happened in the space of around two minutes. When footsteps sounded outside, and Kaian’s head snapped to the door, his eyes darkening, a sour paste crept up my throat.
Professor Quincy didn’t just take away our humanity. He twisted us into something resembling an animal inside a human body.
We spoke and acted and felt like humans. But once a stranger was nearby, or footsteps on territory we had unknowingly snatched as our own, we turned feral. I already knew Kaian was a whole new level of unpredictable and unhinged after what the experiments had done to his brain—but seeing what he was capable of even before the plunge, I froze.
The world was coming apart around me and I was plunging, but I couldn’t move. I watched him get to his feet, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. The footsteps were closing in on us getting louder and louder, and Kaian could sense every vibration. I could tell with the way his lips twitched, a whole new darkness clouding his eyes and stripping away what was left of his humanity. I had seconds.
There was no use in happy birthday
I remember jumping to my feet and diving on my colleagues back, bringing him to the floor like a lion would a deer. When the two of us hit the ground, I watched Riss rupture in front of me, her face glitching, becoming moving static, before her body followed. “Seth?” The voice caused Kaian to attempt to wrench out of my grasp, but I had a firm hold of him. The first three weeks of being inhuman, I was taught how to kill people. Kill my fellow subjects.
Apologising profusely into hair which smelled of blood and dirt and Quincy’s lab, I struggled to keep myself from plunging, knowing the room was already half gone, and I was going to get caught in it anyway. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I’ll make it up to you, okay? You should have sang happy fucking birthday, but you are so goddamn stubborn,” I sobbed with what I hoped was reassurance. I knew he and Riss and Jem would do exactly the same to me.
“So fucking stubborn.” I couldn’t help myself, nestling my face into his hair and heaving in breaths while my skin started to peel away.
“Just take a deep breath and close your eyes, okay?” I whispered into his flushed skin. “We’ll find him, Kaian. I promise you.”
He stopped struggling, and for a moment I thought my colleague was actually listening to me before the ceiling began to crack apart.
The ground rumbled again, and I lost my grip on the guy before forcing him onto his back and straddling his legs. Just when his free arm was flying out with intention to send me crashing into the back wall and ending all reality in that room, encompassing us, I snapped Kaian’s neck.
And with the last of my energy, I fucking screamed while my own flesh melted from my face while the plunge enveloped us both.
…
…
…
March 2020.
It was on the 17th day of captivity inside a cell made of glass panes meant to keep in rabbits, when I met an unlikely visitor. There comes a time when giving up is better than screaming until you have lost all of the breath in your lungs, and your throat feels like sandpaper. I hadn’t eaten in days, and what was left of my meals, curry and mash potatoes, painted my cell walls—a real work of art if I concentrated and imagined carving shapes inside congealing potato and day-old curry.
So far, I had tests. I had tests which were an invasion of privacy which I will not expand upon. I had tests where my professor’s gloved fingers ran over my scalp and marked places where he was going to insert the same headset on the rabbits. He didn’t listen to my cries.
He didn’t tell me where my colleagues were. I was nothing to him. I was a subject stripped of my rights. So, I was doing the little I could to protest. Even if it was small, I was refusing to eat. I knew subjects had to eat to stay healthy—to get results. The piece of shit wasn’t going to get much further if I died of starvation after days of no eating. How sad. I was on my second day of refusing to eat, and my gut felt like it was folding in on itself. To combat this, I sat against clinical white walls with my knees pressed to my chest, and my head buried in my lap. I ignored the rumbling of my stomach and my aching joints, the weird squiggly lines in my vision when I bothered lifting my head.
It’s weird. In that cage, I was the coldest I’ve ever felt on an Indonesian island. I didn’t remember the temperature affecting the outcome of the rabbit subjects, but maybe it was different for humans. Still though, I had my solace. I imagined standing in glittering water, bioluminescent plankton washing over my bare toes. I imagined the full moon bathing the sky in warm light, and it was enough to make me feel safe— even so far from home. Far from normality. If I squeezed my eyes shut, and envisioned wading deeper into the shallows, until the water was lapping my thighs, I could calm myself and tell myself to breathe.
Then the water was at my waist, the panic subsiding. Neck deep, ice cold water filling my mouth and suffocating my nose. But if I thought past it, if I plunged myself into the deep, I could trick my brain into imagining that I was escaping, swimming across the wide expanse of ocean. All the way back home to my family.
I was brought out of my imagination when a scratching noise pulled me back to my senses, and I was back inside my cage.
Lifting my head, I searched for someone. But there was nobody there.
“Over here, genius.”
The voice startled me. It wasn’t quite a voice, more of an attempt. Though I could definitely make out the language bursting out. When my eyes swivelled, I found myself staring at a blur of white. I squinted.
No, not just a blur of white. It was Subject Fifteen. The rabbit which had stolen Jem’s heart, and possibly taken control of his mind.
For a moment I tried to blink myself awake, but no matter how many times I pinched myself, the rabbit was still there, pressing its tiny face against glass, and I can see blood staining its fur. Initially, I thought he was a hallucination until I blinked, and he was still very much there.
He was part of reality, lightly smushing its bloody mouth against glass panes. The sight of dark red tainting its fur twisted my gut, and I had a thought which suddenly wouldn’t leave me alone. If the serum did that to the rabbits, what exactly would it do to us? “Well.” Fifteen’s beady eyes found mine, and I swore its rabbit mouth twisted into a grin. It's voice mimicked both me and my colleagues, the perfect imitation of us. I could hear all of us, even the professor, in every curl of its words.
It wasn’t just intelligent, it was something else—something fucking monstrous. Which should have been put down.
No. It never should have been a subject at all.
I slowly crawled towards it and held my breath. I must have looked pretty fucking funny to Fifteen. I was the tester who had become the tested. The one who wore the lab-coat, to the rat forced into light blue scrub like clothes sticking to me. I can’t say I wasn’t curious, though. Baffled.
I was inches from a fucking talking rabbit, and the last time I checked rabbits weren't supposed to talk. Their mouths haven't evolved to form words. But somehow it was figuring out speech. Fifteen was learning fast. That terrified me. After several attempts at speech, it had almost fully mimicked a human’s expression. It cocked its head, and in Jem’s voice, asked,
“Well? How does it feel to be the one in the cage?"
“You’re not real.” I told the rabbit which sounded like Jem.
To my shock, it laughed, and its bloody mouth almost formed a snarl. “Are you sure about that?”
I crawled over to the screen, pressing my hands against glass. “How does…” I licked my lips. “How does what feel?”
The rabbit’s eyes followed me and I shuffled back, a sour paste creeping its way up my throat. “You were always my least favorite,” it murmured. Its nose twitched. “I think you humans call it karma—- and whether you believe in it or not, every action must have an equal reaction.” It moved closer, pressing its face against the glass. I noticed the fur around it’s mouth was stained red. “You drilled into my head, Wren. You hurt me day after day and hid behind a sense of morality that you were a good person because it was for the good of the human race.” Fifteen edged closer. “I wish I could feel sorry for you. I wish I could feel the sympathy you humans use as a pathetic fucking barrier. But aren’t you just… the cutest?”
The thing was mimicking my own words from the start of the experiments. I had pressed my face against the plastic cage, peering at Subject Fifteen, who was hiding in the corner. Quincy told me to turn off my humanity, but that didn’t stop me as seeing them as cute little fury bunnies. It never crossed my mind that Fifteen could hear exactly what we had been saying.
I thought back to a few months back when I had picked it up from its cage and nuzzled its fur. “Aww! Isn’t he just the cutest?”
Fifteen knew the exact moment I gave up, my hands slipping from the glass. It gestured to the band aid uncomfortably sticking to my scalp.
“Nice horns.”
“You have intelligence.” I whispered through a sob. I leaned closer. “Quincy. You need to tell me what he’s doing to the others.”
“You already know what he’s planning to do, Wren.” The rabbit chuckled, lifting a paw in a mocking wave. “Why are you asking me, hmm? What if I am in fact an illusion? You’re not eating. Your mind has been played with. Are you sure you are really speaking to a talking rabbit?”
It cocked its head. “How do you know I’m not Jem?”
“Or Riss.” It’s voice twisted into hers, and then the professor’s.
“I’m losing my mind.” I whispered, pinching the flesh on my bare thighs. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”
“Maybe.” It said, “or you’re witnessing the consequences of your actions. You did this to me if you remember. I told you to stop hurting me, but you didn’t hear me, Wren. You never heard me. Only him. And when I was strong enough, I made him force you to finally listen to me.”
Jem, I thought hysterically.
“You little—“ I slammed my hands into the glass, unable to resist a snarl when it turned to hop away. “Hey! Wait! What did you do to Jem?”
“I didn’t do anything,” the rabbit responded in a scoff. “Your professor, however… have you ever heard of teleportation?”
I stared at it blinking rapidly, until it laughed. “No, not that kind! I mean the new kind. I’m talking about what Quincy is trying to perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it.” The rabbit’s nose twitched, “What you have been working on and researching—what if it was possible in humans?”
I shook my head. There was no way. If professor Quincy wanted to test on us, it would likely be psychokinesis which was possible in rabbits.
“That’s impossible.” I managed to grit out. “With rabbits it’s one thing, and it’s barely even stable! With humans… it’s...”
It’s barbaric.
The rabbits which went through that procedure and survived… their brains were drastically altered. They were never the same.
That’s what I wanted to say.
I trailed off at the thought of forcing a living and breathing human to shatter apart into atoms and forcefully moved from one place to another. I remembered Subject 12. The tiny little thing coming apart slowly, piece by piece, a mixture of fur, blood and bones filling its cage.
No way.
There was no way my psycho professor would attempt it in humans.
The rabbit hopped away. “Huh. Well, you’re dumber than I thought. I guess I’ll be going if you’re just going to look at me like that.”
When I thought it was going to leave me, the furry little shit twisted its head. “Do you want to know a secret?”
It hopped right over to the glass. “Come closer, and I’ll tell you. I want you to get really close so I can see how adorable you are.”
Too desperate to feel humiliated, I swallowed a shriek and pressed my ear to the glass.
“Jem was the first.” The rabbit started to say but was cut off by the speaker above me crackling, a familiar voice slicing into my ears.
“Good morning. I will be with you shortly. I would like you to raise your hands above your head. I will be administering a gas.”
At the corner of my eye, Fifteen was disappearing behind the corner, and I let out a frustrated hiss. “Professor Quincy.” I managed to force my voice into professional, despite the rabbits voice in my mind. Jem was the first to what? I hadn’t seen either of my colleagues in weeks— or heard from them. I swallowed hard. “Professor Quincy, Subject Fifteen is on the premises and is showing signs of heightened intelligence!”
The rabbit tskked. “And to think I was going to help you. Good luck with the experiments. I will have a front row seat.”
Before it left me in puddling static however, the rabbit didn’t hesitate to drop a bombshell which sent me crumpling to my knees.
“Oh, yeah! I forgot to say.” Subject Fifteen’s words slammed into me as I was choked once again with gas filling my mouth and nose.
“Jem was the first to die.” It said in a sing-song symphony of all of our voices, “And you don’t even know the best part!”

Opening line: 1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e5 3. dxe5 Ng4 4. Nf3
Opening name: Indian Defense Budapest Defense
Board image: https://i.imgur.com/V3BEONp.png
Lichess board: https://lichess.org/analysis/pgn/1.+d4+Nf6+2.+c4+e5+3.+dxe5+Ng4+4.+Nf3++
Wikibooks page: https://en.wikibooks.org/wiki/Chess_Opening_Theory/1._d4/1...Nf6/2._c4/2...e5/3._dxe5/3...Ng4/4._Nf3
Winning percenatages:
White: 364 (40.27%)
Black: 225 (24.89%)
Draws: 315 (34.85%)
Adler variation
The Adler variation is named after the game Adler – Maróczy which was played at the 1896 Budapest tournament.[1][2] White is ready to give up the e5-pawn in order to develop all his pieces on their best squares, i.e. the d5-square for the Nb1, the f3-square for the Ng1 and the a1–h8 diagonal for the Bc1.
In the main line 4...Bc5 the f2-pawn is attacked, forcing 5.e3 that blocks the way for the Bc1. Then after 5...Nc6 White has not enough pieces to protect his e5-pawn on the long run, e.g.:
6.Qd5?! is a doomed attempt, exposing the queen and occupying the d5-square that should belong to the Nb1. This move has a historical interest as this was the line played in the first game where the Budapest Gambit occurred.[3] Black continues calmly with Qe7/Ngxe5/d6/Be6.
6.Bd2 O-O 7.Nc3 Qe7 does not prevent Black to regain his pawn either, and it obstructs the way to the d5-square for the Nb1. Once he has the pawn back Black has equality.[4]
6.b3 immediately allows Black to play 6...d6! when White cannot capture in d6 because of Qd8–f6 winning the Ra1. Play will likely transpose into the 6.Be2 variation.
An important theoretical decision for White is to choose whether he wants to make a2–a3 part of his plan or not. While this move avoids any possible Nc6–b4 and creates the possibility b2–b4, it may also be seen as a possible waste of time in some lines. As Lalic puts it:It was not so long ago that 8.a3, with the obvious intention of expanding with b2–b4, was the standard move. However, after Black responds with the logical a7–a5, it became apparent in tournament practice that the inclusion of these moves is in fact in Black's favour, as it gives his queen's rook access into play via the a6-square.
Black can also try the minor line 4...Nc6 that allows Black to delay the development of the f8-diagonal depending on the circumstances, and allows White to transpose into the 4.Bf4 variation if he wishes to do so.
The 4...Bc5 line with a2.E2.80.93a3
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e5 3.dxe5 Ng4 4.Nf3 Bc5 5.e3 Nc6 6.a3
After the standard moves 6...a5 7.b3 O-O 8.Bb2 Re8 9.Nc3 Ngxe5 10.Nxe5 Nxe5 11.Be2 d6 12.O-O both kings are in safety and Black has regained the invested pawn in the process. Both players can deviate at various points but the positions reached are similar, e.g. in one game White played an early Ra1–b1 in order to push b2–b4 in one move, but Black continued with the same plan as explained hereunder.[5] In another game White developed his Bf1 in d3 instead of e2, but this gave the opportunity for Black to sacrifice the Ng4 on the f2-pawn before the white castle.[6]
White has a space advantage in the center and can initiate pressure here or on the queenside by some pawn pushes like b3–b4 and c4–c5 (possibly supported by a knight on the d5-square). Meanwhile, the White king lacks some defenders so Black can start a pieces-driven attack with the standard "rook lift". As Tseitlin puts it, "the point is that 6...a5 fits into the plan of attacking White's kingside (!), whereas 6.a3 does little in the way of defending it".[7] Thus if White does not find a clear way to make good use of his move a2–a3, it may turn out to be a waste of tempo.[8]
After 12...Re6 White has to chose a way to react to the oncoming assault:
13.Nd5 Rh6 14.g3 (to avoid the crushing 14...Qh4) 14...Bh3 15.Re1 when the Nd5 seems excellently placed, supporting the b3–b4 push on the queenside and one jump away from the f4-square where it can cover the weak light squares h3 and g2 if needed. Nevertheless, after 15...c6!? 16.Nf4 Bf5 it may be difficult for White to realise the b3–b4 push and the weakness of the d6-pawn is not of great significance as long as White cannot attack it with his minor pieces, so chances are level.[9] Thus placing the Nc3 in d5 may be premature.
13.g3 Rh6 14.Ne4 seems crushing as White threatens to win both the Bc5 and the Ne5 (the d6-pawn is pinned). Moreover the Ne4 is well placed to support a later c4–c5 push. Black must react with 14...Qd7 in order to get out of the pin and continue the initiative. Now White has to lose a tempo and weaken his kingside further with 15.h4 in order to avoid the terrific threat Qh3–Qxh2#. After 15...Ba7 Black has dynamic equality.[9]
13.Na4 is another try for White, hindering Re6–h6 because of Bxe5. Black must switch to defence on the queenside with 13...b6!? 14.Nxc5 bxc5 15.f4 (necessary to improve the prospects of the Be2) Nd7 16.Bf3 Rb8 17.Qd3 a4! when Black is even better.[10] In this plan it is important that Black does not fear to move his imprisoned Bc5, e.g. 14.Bc3 (threatening 15.b4) 14...Bd7 15.b4? Bxa4 16.Qxa4 axb4.
The 4...Bc5 line without a2.E2.80.93a3
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e5 3.dxe5 Ng4 4.Nf3 Bc5 5.e3 Nc6
In this variation White reasons that the advance a2–a3 is only a loss of time, because Black will play a7–a5 anyway. By refraining from the advance a2-a3 White tries to gain a tempo on the lines of the previous section, to make it more difficult for Black to initiate the Re8–e6–h6 lift. For example after the typical 6.Be2 O-O 7.O-O Re8 8.Nc3 Ngxe5 9.Nxe5 Nxe5 10.b3 d6 11.Bb2 Re6 12.g3 Rh6?! 13.Ne4 Qd7 14.h4 Black does not have the a7-square for his Bc5 because he had no time to play a7–a5.[11] As we shall see, however, a rook lift is still one of the best options for Black.
White generally continues with 6.Be2, but can instead try the tricky 6.Nc3. The immediate recapture 6...Ngxe5?! 7.Nxe5 Nxe5 allows 8.f4! Nc6 9.Bd3 when the white bishop is much more actively placed than on e2.[12] However, simply 6...O-O! 7.Be2 Ngxe5 transposes to the 6.Be2 move-order.
Note that Black should recapture the e5-pawn first with the Ng4, not the Nc6. Lalic analyzes 6.Be2 O-O 7.O-O Ncxe5?! 8.Nd4! (attacking the Ng4), when 8...Nf6 leaves Black without a clear plan and "White can expect an opening advantage".[13] Alternatively, 8...Qh4 gives White a positional advantage with 9.h3 Nh6 10.Nc3 d6 11.Nd5 ("!" Lalic) to bring the knight back to f4 in case of a Black sacrifice in h3.[14]
After the standard moves 6.Be2 O-O 7.O-O Re8 8.Nc3 Ngxe5 9.Nxe5 Nxe5 White has tried two different plans:
The older fianchettoes the Bc1 and then plays in the centre with moves like Qd1–d5, Nc3–e4 and c4–c5. White attains a huge central space advantage, but Black can attack the kingside with the usual Ra8–a6–h6 rook-lift.
More recently, White has tried leaving the bishop on c1 for a time, and starting a kingside blitzkrieg with moves like f2–f4, Be2–d3 and Qd1–h5. In this line, Black tries to exploit White's weak pawn on e3.
Instead of the usual 6.Be2 White has also tried developing the queenside first, but it is dangerous to leave White's king in the centre too long. After 6.b3 O-O 7.Bb2 Re8 8.Bd3 ("?!" Lalic) d6 ("!" Lalic) 9.exd6? Nxf2! 10.Kxf2 Rxe3 11.Kf1 Bg4 Black had a crushing attack.[15]
White attacks in the centre
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e5 3.dxe5 Ng4 4.Nf3 Bc5 5.e3 Nc6 6.Be2 O-O 7.O-O Re8 8.Nc3 Ngxe5 9.Nxe5 Nxe5 10.b3
After 10.b3 a5 White can try to capture the Bc5 with 11.Na4 or 11.Ne4, one point being that the retreat 11...Ba7 would lock the Ra8 because Black has not played Ra8–a6 already. Nevertheless, Lalic still thinks 11...Ba7 is the right move after 11.Ne4 due to the importance of the a7–g1 diagonal.[16] However, Black can also reroute the bishop with 11...Bf8 and "White has no obvious path to even a minute advantage".[16] After 11.Na4 Black can also simply react by 11...b6 when the loss of the bishop pair is compensated by the semi-open B-file and the improved control on the central squares.[17] Tseitlin considers that after the exchange in c5 Black has the better position.[18] That is why the most common White move is 11.Bb2, keeping the knight jumps for later.
Then the most common plan for Black is a rook lift: the plan Ra8–a6–h6 was tried in the much-commented game Åkesson – Tagnon (Berlin Open 1984). Black duly won, but after the game continuation 11...Ra6 12.Qd5! Qe7 13.Ne4 Ba7 14.c5 Rg6 15.Rac1 Bb8 16.f4 authors do not agree on which side had the advantage. Borik considers that White had a positional advantage,[19] Tseitlin agrees and recommends 15...Nc6! instead of 15...Bb8, with dangerous threats.[20] However about 15...Bb8 Lalic says "it is true that the bishop pair look a bit pathetic lined up on the back rank just now, but there is no way to stop them breaking out later".[21]
In fact, after 11...Ra6 much depends if White goes for the moves Qd1–d5 and Nc3–e4, or deviates with Nc3–a4:
After 12.Qd5 several games saw 12...Ba7. A game from Kramnik (playing as Black) saw 13.Ne4 Rae6 14.Ng3 d6 15.Qxa5 Bb6 16.Qc3 Rh6 and "Black has obtained a powerful attacking position in terurn for the pawn sacricice" according to Tseitlin.[22] In another game, White varied with 13.Ne4 Rae6 14.c5!?, when Tseitlin recommends the tactical 14...d6 15.cxd6 c6 16.Qd1 f5 17.Bxe5 Rxe5 "with good prospects for Black".[23] Another attempt for White is 13.Ne4 Rae6 14.Qxa5 Bb6 15.Qc3 Qh4, when Tseitlin writes that 16.f4 is "the only move that enables White to organise resistance",[24] while Lalic considers the move dubious, saying "16.Ng3 offers more resistance".[25] Kasparov presented the line 13.c5 Rh6 14.f4 Qh4 15.h3 as being worth consideration.[26] Black had had trouble finding a good square for his attacked knight in a 1988 Yugoslav game, where 14...Nc6 lost quite quickly; hence the try 14...Qh4!?, attacking h2. Also unclear is acceptance of the piece sacrifice with 15.fxe5 Qxh2+ 16.Kf2, when Black obtains definite compensation in a very sharp position.
Even if 12.Qd5 Ba7 is fully satisfactory for Black, Lalic still considers 12...Qe7 best, and on 15...Bb8 he says "it is true that the bishop pair look a bit pathetic lined up on the back rank just now, but there is no way to stop them breaking out later".[21] When White tries a different move-order with 12.Ne4 Ba7 13.Qd5, Black usually opts for 13...Rae6, a promising pawn sacrifice. After the possible 14.Qxa5 Bb6 15.Qc3 Qh4 only 16.f4 enables White to organise resistance.[27]
White attacks on the kingside
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e5 3.dxe5 Ng4 4.Nf3 Bc5 5.e3 Nc6 6.Be2 O-O 7.O-O Re8 8.Nc3 Ngxe5 9.Nxe5 Nxe5 10.Kh1
The plan of attacking on the kingside was unveiled by Spassky in a game against Illescas (Linares 1990). Black did not understand immediately White's idea, so that after 10...a5?! 11.f4 Nc6 12.Bd3 d6 13.Qh5 (awarded a "!" by Lalic) 13...h6 14.Rf3 Black's pieces were ill-placed to counter White's attack.[28]
A more principled plan for Black is to react by an action on the centre, specifically against the backward e3-pawn. After 10...d6 11.f4 Nd7 ("!" Lalic) 12.Bd3 Nf6 13.Qf3 Ng4 14.Nd1 f5 ("!" Lalic) and Black has succeeded in avoiding White's expansion e3–e4.[29]
The 4...Nc6 line
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e5 3.dxe5 Ng4 4.Nf3 Nc6
Black plays this when he wants to postpone the placement of its dark-squared bishop. Now White has a wide choice:
5.Bf4 transposes in the 4.Bf4 variation explained hereafter.
5.Qd5 transposes in the minor line 4.Qd5 explained hereafter.
5.e3 and now 5...Bb4+ is not that good because White can react with the simple 5.Bd2. Better for Black is 5...Ngxe5 when Black can go into a kind of King's Indian Defence setup with g7–g6 and Bf8–g7.[30] Then the pressure along the a1–h8 diagonal can be enhanced via the quick advance a7–a5–a4–a3. For example after 5.e3 Ngxe5 6.Be2 g6 ("!?" Lalic) 7.O-O Bg7 8.Nc3 O-O 9.Qd2 d6 10.h3 ("?" Lalic) 10...a5 ("!" Lalic) 11.b3 a4 and now 12.Bb2 would have been followed by 12.a3! 13.Bc1 Nxf3+ 14.Bxf3 Qf6 winning the Nc3.[31]
5.Nc3 will transpose into the 4...Bc5 line if Black plays 5...Bc5, but Black can also wait a bit to see what White is up to, e.g. 5...Ngxe5 6.Nxe5 Nxe5 7.Qc2 Bb4 when both players are still hesitating to castle long or short.[32]
5.Bg5 Be7 6.Bxe7 (6.Bf4 Bb4+ transposes in the 4.Bf4 variation) 6...Qxe7 7.Nc3 with the dangerous positional threat Nc3–d5. Here Borik advocates 7...Qc5 8.e3 Ngxe5, when he can react to Qd1–d5 with Qc5–e7 (and the d5-square is no more available to the Nc3), and to Nc3–d5 with Nc6–e7 (to exchange the annoying knight).[30] Black can also delay the recapture of the e5-pawn with 7...O-O 8.Nd5 Qd8 9.e3 Ngxe5 10.Nxe5 Nxe5.[33] Meanwhile, the natural 7...Ngxe5 falls into White's positional trap and after 8.Nd5 ("!?" Lalic) 8...Qd8 9.Nxe5 Nxe5 10.Qd4 f6 11.f4 Ng6 12.Qe4+ Kf7 White got an edge.[34]
No known responses found
Engine Evaluation
Depth: 45
Score: +0.9
Best Move: Nc6
PV Line: 1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e5 3. dxe5 Ng4 4. Nf3 Nc6 5. e3 Ngxe5 6. Nxe5 Nxe5 7. Be2 Bc5 8. f4 Nc6 9. a3
Puzzles based around Indian Defense Budapest Defense
https://lichess.org/training/Indian_Defense_Budapest_Defense
Historical games for Indian Defense Budapest Defense

Game	Result	Year
Giri, A. (2782) vs Mamedyarov, S. (2801)	1-0	2018
Aronian, Levon (2809) vs Ivanchuk, Vassily (2757)	1-0	2013
Ivanchuk, Vassily (2781) vs Mamedyarov, Shakhriyar (2742)	1/2-1/2	2008
Gelfand, B. (2777) vs Rapport, R. (2691)	0-1	2014
Ponomariov, Ruslan (2739) vs Mamedyarov, Shakhriyar (2719)	1/2-1/2	2009
Mamedov, Rauf (2660) vs Mamedyarov, Shakhriyar (2772)	0-1	2011
Wojtaszek, Radoslaw (2713) vs Short, Nigel D (2698)	1/2-1/2	2012
Tkachiev, Vladislav (2664) vs Mamedyarov, Shakhriyar (2742)	0-1	2008
Karjakin, Sergey (2727) vs Short, Nigel D (2655)	1-0	2008
Cori, J. (2671) vs Firouzja, Alireza (2702)	0-1	2019

I’m currently breaking about two hundred NDA’s by posting this here, including some that stipulate decades, if not longer jail time for me and worse, but frankly, whatever happens to me isn’t as important as getting the word out. Getting this warning out, to all of you who live in the United States, and perhaps the entirety of North America. If I attempt to leak the information I have anywhere else, the people in charge of making sure things like this don’t get out will sniff it out in a heartbeat and erase it from the internet completely. So, I’m posting this here, on a place that is one of the last they’d possibly look, in hopes that enough people see it, and can warn others, while there is still time.
I’m not going to tell you my real name, or what company I work for, as that would be detected by those that sweep the internet for such things, and would send up the warning sirens all around. It, along with the other people’s names I will need to use, will be changed with fake names.
But, what I can say is that I’m a very high level scientist who works at a corporation that deals in large part with genetics, and genetic engineering, among other things. One which has a lot of notoriety and acclaim in the world. Roughly about two years ago, as the rest of the world was in lockdown due to the pandemic, the company I work for was approached by the federal government, specifically the Department of Defense, to assist a top secret project they were undertaking for something which the paperwork referred to as Project Varanus. Only about half a dozen scientists and geneticists, myself included, were selected for our knowledge, skill, working speed, and most importantly, the ability to keep our mouths shut. They sat us down in the conference room of our building, and after giving only a vague interpretation of what task they wished us to assist them with (In the words of the stooge who spoke of the three of them, “To assist with our project on the genetic scale”), they shoved Non Disclosure Agreement after Non Disclosure Agreement under our noses to sign. The only reason we didn’t question, was because of the amount of zeros that we were told would be on our personal paychecks. We would be wealthy beyond our wildest dreams. Greed always gets people in over their fucking heads.
After given twenty four hours to get our affairs in order, we were all piled into the back of a Sikorsky helicopter and taken to the local airport, where we were placed onto a military C-130. They didn’t tell us what state we were heading to, and most of us were too excited about the money and the opportunity to care, murmuring excitedly to each other during the entire course of the six hour flight. We landed at a private airfield, one which I’m pretty damn sure isn’t on any aviation map, and led us into a large, three story building made out of black metal just to the right of the runway. This turned out to be the barracks, what would become our home for the foreseeable future. And we weren’t the only ones there. There were at least thirty or forty other people, some which were also scientist, but curiously enough, as we learned, about ten or twelve of them were animal wranglers or animal behavioral experts. “So whatever we’re doing, has to do with animals” Yurik, a Russian transplant and fellow scientist and friend of mine whispered to me as the bigwigs gathered us all up after letting us drop of our personal effects.
“Apparently” I whispered back, “What do you think the project is?” He shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got me, Dexter. I guess we’ll just have to find out, yes?” I nodded, and we both fell silent as we were led back out of the building, and through a grey metal door which was set into the side of a hill across the way. This turned out to lead down to where we would be working; an underground complex which had to have stretched out for at least a mile or more. As we entered the first clean room, we were met with the first big surprise of our arrival. Taking up its own clean room, which opened onto the one we stood in with floor to ceiling windows, was a supercomputer which, by all means, should only be in the rough blueprint stage. If you’ve heard of the Hewlett-Packard Enterprise Frontier supercomputer, then you’ll know that it’s successor, the Aurora, is due to be completed this year, and will only be the word’s second exascale supercomputer. Except…it was already built a year or two in advance. The Department of Energy had leant the DOD it for this project exclusively. We all whispered in hushed tones as one of the men rattled off the system specs, which I’ll skip as many of you won’t know or understand them.
Then they led us to the second surprise of the day, and admittedly, even a bigger one than the computer. And, in my personal opinion, far more chilling. Inside a room which, unnervingly, had a row of cattle prods hooked into one far wall, along with, for some reason, a locked case containing what looked like shotguns, was another floor to ceiling window. The head big wig walked up and tapped the glass. “Our most durable glass, able to withstand a direct hit from a vehicle doing twenty miles an hour. We use it in secure rooms in the Pentagon” he boasted. For a moment, everyone looked around at each other in confusion, wondering why glass so strong would be needed in a lab setting. Until the three men stepped aside and let us finally see what the subjects of this project would be, earning more than a few gasps from myself and the others.
The room, or, I should more appropriately refer to as an enclosure, was made up to resemble what I can only describe as an Indo-Pacific jungle. I know, since I made a trip with my wife to that area of the world ten years ago. That wasn’t what had earned the gasps, though. It was what lay and stood inside the habitat. Instantly, I understood the name of the project, which, some bright bulb in the DOD hadn’t exactly been creative with. Varanus was the genus of the animal before us. Varanus komodoensis. Komodo Dragons. There were, from what we could see, about seven or eight of them; some were sitting and sunning themselves underneath the artificial lights mounted in the ceiling, while others lumbered around lazily, rivulets of drool hanging out of their mouths. As we stared in astonishment, the DOD men explained the goal of the project. According to them, they wanted to attempt to weaponize the lizards, using selective breeding, genetic modification and animal training, among other steps, to create the perfect killing machine for the black ops arms of the military in any location in the world. And it was our job to make that happen.
Things progressed slowly for the first three to six months of the project. We took genetic samples of tranquilized specimens and fed them into the supercomputer to map out the animals complete genome. Shockingly, it took the computer less than a week and a half to do so. Once we had a complete blueprint, we began removing genes and other molecular parameters that would hinder the new generation of Komodos to fulfill the parameters set down to us by the DOD. I won’t say every single thing we did, but I will, for necessities purpose, tell you some of the most important ones. Most lizards are cold blooded, meaning they can’t regulate their own body heat and need the sun to warm them up. Almost all lizards are this way, with the exception of one. The Argentine black and white tegu is the only known reptile which can regulate its own body heat, and thus, survive in cold weather without going completely dormant. Using genetic engineering, we were able to rack the tegu’s gene up to the point it could stay fully active all throughout the winter months and cold climates.
We also removed genes which limited the Komodo’s ability to see distinct shapes, and inserted ones which also boosted their visual range, allowing them to be able to see for at least half a mile away from them. We inserted chameleon genes to allow the creatures to naturally camouflage themselves for whatever location they would be dropped into. We heightened their sense of hearing and smell as well, along with increasing their skin density so that, short of a .50 BMG round or bigger, not much could penetrate their hides. The big one that the DOD wanted, though, was increased aggression. Komodo Dragons are already aggressive and territorial by nature, but for them, it wasn’t good enough. And so, for this, we inserted the testosterone gene from a bull shark, which has some of the highest testosterone levels in the animal kingdom, to boost their ferocity.
Finally, all the parameters we were set were reached, and through a complicated process which I won’t go into, for time sake, we began inserting the new genomes into the clutches of eggs that the females would lay, then returning them to their nests in the habitat. A few more months later, and the first genetically modified Komodo Dragons were born. And they were a complete fucking disaster. Some of the animals were born with mutations that made them die off quickly, such as missing two feet or, in one case, two heads. We realized we’d made a mistake and went back to the drawing board. After checking, double checking, and just to be safe, triple checking our work, we attempted again with a new clutch of eggs.
As the second clutch began to quiver and shake, everyone from us geneticists, to other scientists and animal experts, and even the ten man security staff gathered around the window in anticipation. The first egg cracked, and a black head poked out from it, its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth, tasting the air. A few moments later, more began to do the same, and as the first forced its way out of the egg, seemingly mutation free, we all turned to one another and applauded, cheering, patting each other on the back and shaking hands. “Congratulations, Dexter!” an animal behaviorist named Michelle said, smiling and giving me a hug. I’d developed a friendly rapport with her, and we had fast become friends. “Thanks, Michelle” I said, grinning back at her, “But now comes the test of time, to see how they do as they grow and mature” She nodded, and we turned to congratulate more of our colleagues. If we’d only known then what we did now, though, we’d have likely tried to incinerate the entire room while we had the chance…
The animals matured at an incredibly fast rate from then on, reaching full sexual maturity in less than a year instead of the normal eight to nine years, due to the genetic modification. They soon took up large amounts of room in the habitat, as the seven specimens which survived to adulthood; four males and three females, grew much larger than their natural parents, reaching lengths of about fourteen feet long, and likely weighing over five hundred pounds. We noticed a few new additions to the first generation Komods, as we came to call them to distinguish between the regular animals and them, such as their teeth having more of a shark like serrated edge to them from the bull shark genes, and a more mammalian like eye due to the chimpanzee genes for sight. Their natural skin color was dark black, much darker than their parents. And when they first camouflaged themselves, it was a sight that caused us to gasp in wonder. We had created a new subspecies, effectively, of the animal.
That was where the problems began. See, after congratulating us on our achievements, the DOD ordered us to begin the training process as soon as possible. They had some military skirmish coming up they wanted to give the animals a dry run on, about seven months out. And so, Michelle and the rest of the animal experts attempted to train them to attack on command. At first, it seemed they responded well to the orders, but very quickly petered out, ignoring verbal and visual cues. To make matters worse, they ended up turning on their parents, killing and devouring all eight of the natural animals during one night, which led us to walk into the lab the next morning, finding the glass splattered with blood and viscera. The Komods had been absolutely vicious on the recordings, moving as a pack to trap an animal at a time in a corner before quite literally tearing it apart. This gave us pause, as we didn’t recall putting in any increased intelligence genes into the animals, and pack hunting behavior was not only a sign of intelligence, but also a behavior not seen in Komodo Dragons. Everyone exchanged nervous glances with each other at this revelation.
That was about the time they…changed. They began to get downright eerie, if I’m honest. We would walk into the habitat viewing room, to find the animals standing still as a stone. Still, except for their eyes, which seemed to follow you all around the room, ones which began to seem far too human like and understanding. I know now that they were learning our patterns, our movements, sniffing out weaknesses and vulnerable spaces. Hell, you could be two rooms away, and still feel their eyes on you through the many layers of glass. They also began to camouflage themselves more and more, seeming to learn how to effectively hide themselves. When they stood still, it almost was impossible to distinguish them from the background. It was almost exactly the way the Indominus Rex from Jurassic World behaved, only, there were many of them, not just one. We reached out to the DOD to explain our concerns, but they were pushed aside like paper. The man on the phone told us that the three who had brought us here over a year ago, would be returning in two weeks to look at the specimens. “That is final” the gruff voice finished, before hanging up.
We were unsure of what to do. The animals hadn’t been trained, and their odd and eerie behavior was beginning to sow the first tendrils of doubt about what we had done into the backs of our minds. We had been too busy focusing on achieving our goals without stopping to think about the consequences, also preoccupied by the money we would be making. But we attempted to push the thoughts away. That’s when the next shoe dropped. As we entered the lab a week later, we noticed some, well, some things nestled in the old replica nests that once held the Komods themselves. I have to stress that, normal Komodo Dragons, it turns out, can lay up to 20 eggs at a time, which, between three females, would mean sixty eggs. There were closer to ninety eggs in total in the nests. “Okay, something isn’t exactly right here” Michelle said worriedly, gaining murmurs from the other animal experts. “They’re not supposed to lay eggs so soon, especially not this time of the year”
As we stared through the glass, one of the Komods uncloaked itself, the side of its head almost pressed up against the glass. “Fuck me!” I shouted, jumping back; I had been close to the glass myself, and when it had appeared, the two of us had almost been eye to eye with each other. That’s when Dietrich, another geneticist, dropped the bomb he’d hidden from the rest of us. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, he’d been approached by one of the bigwigs with a secret assignment. Apparently, there were two secret parameters that the DOD had asked for in the Komods; the first was an increased level of intelligence for problem solving and creativity skills using more chimpanzee genes. This alone caused everyone else to flip their shit. “Are you AND them out of your fucking minds?!” Clancy, one of the animal behaviorists screamed at Dietrich, “You basically engineered up the apex predator of apex predators, and then you gave it a fucking brain?!” Quieter than he had been before, he then told us the second secret parameter.
They had wanted to increase the animal’s lethality, and as such…had Dietrich insert the genes from one of the most venomous species of snake, the Black Mamba, into the Komods. One bite from the animals would be enough to insert enough venom to kill twenty full grown men. The discomfort and horror in the room was palpable. I quietly strode up to the man and asked him, in a voice quaking a little, “Do you have any idea what kind of monster you’ve created?” He merely stared at the floor and said nothing. I looked around the room at my colleagues, and at the security standing behind us. After a few minutes of deliberation, I opened my mouth and spoke. “We have to find a way to destroy these animals” I turned and looked at them, now all visible and staring through the glass at me. They all seemed to have their eyes on me, and me alone, and almost seemed to harbor a sense of anger towards me. I looked down and saw that the speakers which allowed the trainers to try and communicate with the animals had accidentally been flicked on. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they understood what I said…but that was ridiculous; they only understood basic commands, not full sentences. Nevertheless, I nervously flicked off the speaker, then turned back to the group.
“We need to find a way to destroy them” I repeated, and began to move across the room to the weapons locker containing the shotguns. That’s when the security guards stepped over to me. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t allow you to even attempt to destroy government property” the lead guard said, his face stony and lacking any emotion. “Are you serious?” I asked, dropping formalities. He repeated his sentence to me. I felt a rising wave of panic begin to overtake me as my mind raced with the implications. But, before I was able to do anything, I felt hands grab my arms from behind, wrenching them from behind. I felt handcuffs clench around my wrists and looked back up at the head guard. “You’re going to be placed into confinement until the superiors arrive here in three days, at which point they will decide a course of action for breaking subsection A303, paragraph 36, line four of your contract”
They led me out of the room, the other scientists looking both scared and upset at this abrupt intervention. As I left the room, I saw one of the guards rest his hand on the butt of his pistol while staring at the group. “There is to be no more discussion about the destruction of these animals” he proclaimed loudly. The symbolism of his hand on his gun was obvious. And then the door shut, and I was shoved forward. I was marched out of the lab and back across the ground to the barracks, where I was locked into a storage room with a toilet. Occasionally, a guard would bring me food and water, but they never spoke a word. I had nothing to occupy my time with but my thoughts; thoughts about the disastrous implications of those creatures down below breeding uncontrolled, or worse, escaping the military’s custody.
Three days later, as I sat on the floor with my head between my knees, I heard the door unlock, and looked up to see the guards in the doorway. Behind them lay two men in combat fatigues carrying assault rifles, and beside them were the three bigwigs, still dressed in their smarmy black suits and ties. I was pulled out of the closet and held by my arms in front of the three. “Doctor, doctor, doctor” one of them began, shaking his head slowly, “You disappoint us” He clucked his tongue. “We thought you, of all people would recognize the importance of such a project. The ability to create the perfect soldier, one that means not risking human lives and winning battles far more efficiently” I shook my head at him. “What you don’t understand is that, if you keep those animals alive, you risk something far worse and more disastrous for the area. Hell, the country, and maybe even the continent!”
But he didn’t listen. He waved at me. “Escort the good doctor down with us to see there’s nothing to worry about” he said dismissively, already turning away. This time, in between the two rifle carrying military police, I was marched back from the barracks to the lab. As they shut the door behind it, one of the suit wearing men locked the door out by pressing his hand into a scanner at the bottom of the stairs that I hadn’t noticed before. When we entered, all eyes turned in our direction, and I could see the guards had been forcing them to continue working under duress. Many looked like they hadn’t slept in two days. On the bigwig’s orders, we were all forced into the observation room. When we entered, I noticed something that nearly rooted me to the spot. There was only two Komods visible in the center of the room. Both lay slumped on their side, their eyes open and unseeing.
Instantly, the head suit turned to the guards, his face turning red. “You allowed two of them to die?!” he shouted at the head of security. The man’s face turned pale as he stared in confusion. “N-No sir!” he stammered, “They were up and moving about not even an hour ago!” But the suit wasn’t comforted. He rounded on Michelle and Clancy. “You two, are going to go in there, under the supervision of two of the guards, and you are going to attempt to revive our property” he hissed. They began to protest, but then the man shouted again. “If you do not do as ordered, by the power given to me in your contract, I will have the ability to have you executed for subordination!” The two animal behaviorists looked shocked at the man’s words, but still didn’t move. Not until the security team pulled their pistols out of their holsters. Michelle began to cry, and Clancy attempted to comfort her. But the suit strode forward, grabbed the two of them, and roughly shoved them towards the habitat door. “Now!” he barked.
Michelle stole one last look my way, her eyes rimmed red with tears and fear, and then, with the two security guards holding cattle prods behind them, they were forced into the habitat. As they stepped forward into view on the other side of the glass, I stepped up next to the suit, rage and panic overcoming me. “This is the stupidest fucking idea, you dumb shit! There’s only two in view, and there were-“ I was cut off as something slammed into the side of my head. My vision went blurry, and I collapsed to the metal floor in a heap. “Shut the hell up” the suit said, motioning for the MP who’d used the butt of his rifle to strike me to lift me up. As they did, I looked up to see Michelle kneeling down next to one of the Komods, my vision hazy. A thought crossed through my mind, one that sped through my brain like a bolt of lightning, and send ice buckets of chills to zap down my spine. They have the intelligence of primates, they have problem solving skills, they were watching us the whole time, they work as a team, they-
I snapped my head up, screaming. “Michelle, get away from it, it’s an ambush!” But, it was already too late. As she looked up at me, her eyes wide with understanding and terror, the Komod snapped up out of playing possum, lunging forward faster than I thought possible with its jaws agape. They snapped close around my colleague’s head, and I heard her begin to scream, a high pitched, unending one which pierced my ears even on the other side of the glass. At the same time, the others removed their camouflage, leaping forward at Clancy and the two guards. They tried to raise their prods, but couldn’t move quick enough as three of them overwhelmed them, dragging them to the ground. The other Komod playing possum had leapt onto Clancy. Within moments, the glass was stained with the splashes of blood from my colleagues and the guards. “Close the door!” the head suit screamed, all trace of bravado having left him. But, again, it was already too late, as with a mix of hisses and low growls, the seven genetically engineered killing machines dashed out of the enclosure and began the slaughter.
I didn’t stay to watch it, though. When I saw that the four in the enclosure were goners, I turned and, with my head still reeling from the rifle butt to my head, sprinted as fast as I could away from the room. I saw a few other of my colleagues do the same, and heard the eardrum piercing sound of multiple handguns and rifles being fired behind me. Along with the screaming. God, the screaming. It was like listening to the background of a horror movie during a nasty kill scene, only this time, the horror was very real. I thought fast as I heard the skittering of claws on metal somewhere behind me. And I did the only thing I could. I climbed tables and bookshelves, until I was able to climb on some ceiling mounted pipes and air ducting. I was up high enough, that even if they could jump, which I found out a few seconds later they could, as they leapt almost five feet off the ground towards me, it wouldn’t be high enough for them to reach.
From there, all I could do was watch. Watch in horror as the Komods grouped together as a pack, moving through the facility to kill the few colleagues of mine and guards who had escaped the initial carnage. They always found them, no matter where they were. They sniffed them out, they could spot them hiding in places most wouldn’t think to look. Very soon, the entire lab was splashed with blood on the floors and walls. It looked like they’d attempted to make their own macabre version of a Jackson Pollack painting. But the most frightening was when they came to a locker that the last guard had hidden himself in. I know those animals had never even seen a locker door before. But, somehow, one climbed slightly up on the metal, using its claws to hook into the grooves, turned its mouth slightly sideways, and gripped the lock between its teeth. It gently pulled it up, and the weight of it swung the locker door open. The guard managed to let out a single scream before they were upon him.
Finally, they were all gone. Everyone except me. I saw the Komods fan out through the lap, systematically moving through each room. Two reached the stairs, and I heard the click of their claws as they climbed towards the door. A few moments later, the slid back down, trapped by the lockdown the bigwig had set up. I let out a sigh of relief. But it quickly died in my throat as I saw one, what had to be the pack leader, move with a speed I didn’t know they could possess and crawl back into the observation room. There was a sickening sound of flesh and bone tearing for a minute or two. Then it reappeared, moving back across the lab with something in its jaws. I strained to see, then gasped as I realized what it was. It was the hand and wrist of the suit; the creature had torn it from his corpse. My mind raced as I watched it move towards the stairs again. Please, no, I thought. Please don’t let it be THAT smart!
My heart sank into my stomach as I saw the Komod reach the panel next to the stairs, climbing up and using its front legs to hold itself in place. Very gently, it dropped the suit’s hand from its mouth, letting it fall palm down onto the scanner. After a second, a robotic woman’s voice spoke throughout the facility. “Lockdown lifted. All exit doors now unlocked” “Shit…” I whispered as I watched it drop back down to the ground, and, moving in front, led the seven back up the stairs. A minute later, I felt the air pressure in the lab change, signaling they had managed to open the door. After about thirty seconds, it stopped. They got out. That was the thought that repeated over and over in my mind. They got out. Oh, god no, they got out.
That was how they found me when they came to search for everyone the next day, when the bigwigs didn’t report in. They found me clutching the ceiling ducts, almost desperately so, so as not to fall down to the ground. They ran a ladder up and coaxed me down. I thought I would be charged for the deaths of everyone here, but apparently, these people knew about Project Varanus. They took me out of the lab, away from the dismembered bodies of my colleagues and the others, away from the blood and putrid copper scent of it. When I stepped outside into fresh air, I immediately noticed the huge hole in the fence opposite us. “That’s how they got out” I whispered, and the man in the suit nodded. “We know, doctor. Don’t worry, we’ll find them”. From there, they made sure I was okay, then made me sign ever more NDA’s, stating I wouldn’t breathe a word about what happened. All which, I said at the start, I’m breaking now.
Yes, the financially compensated me for what I experienced, more money than I would ever know what to do with. Hush money. But, I can’t stay silent on this. For two reasons. The first being, all of my colleagues’ families were given some bullshit cover story about how they died in a gas leak, and the bodies were too contaminated to be able to be shipped home. The families deserve to know what really happened to their loved ones.
And second, and more important tenfold, is to warn people. Warn you. Warn everybody of what is out there now, sliding and hunting through the forests. Maybe even through suburban neighborhoods. Where they can camouflage themselves, they could be anywhere. You need to be on guard outside, no matter where you are. How many animal disappearances since they escaped could be their work? Hell, how many missing people could be their work? If you even think you feel eyes on you when nobodies around, run. If you think you hear soft hissing and low growling around you, run. It may not matter, though. Where they’re so fast, even if you run, they’ll most likely catch you and…well, you know what happens next. But that’s not what frightens me the most. That’s not what makes me stare up the ceiling fan in my bedroom, unable to sleep.
The eggs in the habitat were destroyed by the military. They saw to that. But, the Komods out there can still breed. And we saw how ninety eggs came from just those seven animals, those three females. They can breed very quickly, and they will. And when they breed, they will spread like wildfire, able to live in both hot and cold climates. And as it’s almost April, it’s almost prime time for them to mate and lay their eggs. Which would hatch this fall.
That is, if their breeding season wasn’t genetically altered as well.
All I can say is, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for what I helped to create. I’m so sorry for the deaths of all those who worked with me.
And I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry…for what is to come…

AMERICAN CONSERVATISM AND THE CATHOLIC CHURCH
The relationship between the modern conservative movement and the Catholic Church in America is just now beginning to be understood. Despite evidence of a close relationship between Catholicism and conservatism, the Church is most often considered a liberal institution, while the Catholic Church in its official capacity denies that it has an inherent connection to any political party or ideology. Nevertheless, the connection between American conservatism and Catholicism is much closer than is usually realized, so much so that the Church is better understood as a conservative than as a liberal institution.
Catholic Origins of American Conservatism
One of the overlooked facts about the modern conservative movement is the irreplaceable part played by Catholics.1 Indeed, it is almost possible to believe that the conservative movement in America was largely a Catholic thing, but this would be to overestimate the influence of Catholics. The conservative movement was not an explicit attempt of lay Catholics or the Church itself to manufacture a movement or arm to gain political influence for the Catholic Church. (This is in contrast to the Moral Majority, which was an explicit attempt to gain evangelical Protestantism a secular arm and direct political influence.) The Catholic Church in America, in contrast to the Church in Europe, has not allied itself officially with any political party or ideological movement, respecting the American separation of church and state. Further, Catholic influence tends to be more diffuse, representing the wide variety of political opinions held by its members.
The two outstanding representatives of Catholicism in the conservative movement, well-known to readers of this journal, are William F. Buckley and Russell Kirk, the founders of National Review and Modern Age, respectively. Buckley was a cradle Catholic who attended an English Catholic boarding school. He held a strongly traditional view of the Church and was an opponent of the vernacular Mass that resulted from the Second Vatican Council. National Review often dealt directly with Catholic issues, most famously in attacking the encyclicals of Pope John XXIII but also in its criticisms of the neo-Marxist Catholic liberation theology emanating from Latin America. Russell Kirk, whose book The Conservative Mind went through multiple printings, greatly encouraged a traditionalist form of conservative thought. He was a Catholic convert but had already established his conservative philosophy at the time he entered the Church. While Buckley represents the influence of cradle Catholics whose religious beliefs made them sharply critical of political and social developments in America following World War II, Kirk represents the conservative Catholics who joined the Church for personal reasons of faith, certainly, but also because their conservatism was explicitly and strongly represented in the Catholic Church. The presence of a large number of cradle Catholics in the conservative movement and the tendency of conservatives to become Catholic converts raises the question: what is the nexus between Catholicism and conservatism?
There is a large overlap between Catholicism and conservatism, and five areas can be distinguished. First, there is the conservative respect for tradition, that is, the Burkean assumption that any social institution in place for a great length of time and serving many people well has a claim on us. The Catholic Church has contributed an essential and distinctive element to Western civilization in art, literature, music, theology, and philosophy, and— not least—in its spreading of the Christian gospel, which had a civilizing effect on the many peoples of Europe, including those originally thought of as “barbarians.”
Second, there is a moral realism intrinsic to the Church’s doctrines and practices that presupposes good and evil’s actual reality and actual distinction. As the European world order collapsed during the twentieth century under the weight of total wars and totalitarian movements, good and evil were forsworn as ancient notions easily disposed of in the face of the onslaught of naked political power. The Catholic Church’s continued assertion that there exists an objective moral order thus seems salutary and providential.
Third, there was the policy of anti-Communism, which was especially noteworthy after World War II, when the Church supported centrist or mildly leftist political parties in Italy and France in opposition to Communist political parties that had many adherents. In America in the 1950s, figures such as Bishop Sheen and Cardinal Spellman vigorously opposed Communism; a disconcerting result of Vatican II was the Church’s change from a policy of anti-Communism effectively to one of antianti-Communism.
Fourth, the Catholic Church provides a primary example of an institution that survives in history not because it remains static, but because it changes slowly over time, accommodating itself to new circumstances while retaining its essential identity. Thus the confusing effects of the Second Vatican Council have amounted to a seemingly radical change in the Church and sorely tested the faith of many Catholic conservatives. Alterations in the order of the Mass and the reversal of the anti-Communist policy have caused especially severe discord.
Finally, especially appealing to intellectual conservatives is the Church’s espousal of the doctrine of natural law, which is conformable to the doctrine of natural rights found in the practice of American law and written in the Declaration of Independence, which refers to “nature’s God” as the source of rights and an implied moral order by which the actions of political agents can be fairly and rationally judged.
These considerations do not mean that Catholicism and American conservatism are altogether compatible. The conservative tradition in America is diverse, tending especially toward the principle of personal freedom from state controls. The Catholic tradition is communitarian and familyoriented, seeing the individual as embedded in a network of social connections and responsibilities ultimately of divine origin. This communitarianism sharply contradicts the individualism that is an inherent part of American culture, especially as expressed in the libertarian strain of contemporary conservatism. Previously, Catholic teaching had criticized the doctrine of individual rights; this, however, is changing. Since Vatican II official Church documents have stressed the individual’s right of conscience in order to defend freedom of religion in places where the Church is actively suppressed, as in China, or where Christian worship is severely curtailed, as in Muslim nations.
Another point of likely disagreement is free-market capitalism. Continental Catholic theologians have long had an animus toward the “Anglo-Saxon” social arrangement of England and America with its emphasis on political freedom and monetary advancement. This may be only a cultural prejudice, but in fact Catholic social teaching cannot be comfortable with an unrestrained form of capitalism in which there is no Reagan-style safety net (at least) for those who do not benefit directly from the free market. Catholic doctrine leans toward promoting communal solidarity with some kind of guarantees for housing and income for all, and from a Catholic perspective, the philosophy of unrestrained capitalism elevates the free market as a false idol. Here again, however, Catholic attitudes are changing toward a more conservative position; Pope John Paul II’s last social encyclical approved the free market as an efficient way of setting prices and allocating goods, and prominent lay Catholics such as William Simon and Michael Novak have favored the free market as compatible with Catholic thought.
The Liberal Church
While there is nothing in the documents of the Second Vatican Council that explicitly commits Catholicism to a liberal social philosophy, liberals and progressives have seized upon the Council to promote their programs and philosophies within the Church. Vatican II urged lay participation in the world, so that the Christian message would be spread through all aspects of society. Without careful delineation by the bishops who attended the Council and under whose supervision its documents were written, it was somehow automatically assumed that the Council reforms meant social activism of the sort carried out by promoting left-wing schemes and agendas. The bishops, including the popes who initiated the Council, John XXIII and Paul VI, were unaware of how suddenly changes would overtake the Church under pressure from various cadres of the Left, including feminists, pacifists, liturgical experts, anarchic radicals, and advocates of welfare expansion. Church authorities were overtaken by events until it became necessary for them to push back and re-establish lines of authority, as happened under Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI.
One of the reforms of Vatican II was to give national councils of Catholic bishops a greater degree of authority and independence, without having to wait for direction from the Vatican.10 In the United States the bishops made policy in their annual meetings and relied on the bureaucracy of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) to promulgate those policies and bring them into effect. Since both the bishop’s annual meetings and the USCCB are based in Washington, D.C., this amounted to the Church’s becoming a Dupont Circle-type lobbying group promoting a liberal line in virtually all areas of public policy and domestic and foreign affairs. USCCB policies, which are intended to “share Catholic social teaching,” have nonetheless attracted opposition from conservative Catholics and other critics who not only have a different ideological take on the issues but often have more expertise about the issues addressed than the USCCB staff that writes the policies and lobbies for them. The one exception to the liberal line taken by the USCCB is in the area of sex and reproduction, including abortion, gay marriage, cloning, and stemcell research.
The presumption that the Church had become politically liberal and progressive was encouraged by the writings of the two popes who oversaw Vatican II. John XXIII promulgated two major encyclicals and, as mentioned above, Mater et Magistra, in particular, was criticized by NationalReview. In fact, however, that encyclical was a sensible essay on Catholic social doctrine as it had developed to that time, and it appeared that conservative criticism of it was about its utopian tone or presumed intent rather than its specific provisions. Paul VI, on the other hand, in his document (not an encyclical) Populorum Progressio expressed a deep concern for justice for the Third World and condemned the economic policies of the First World. Not merely progressive, but radical, dimensions of Catholic social doctrine were rapidly developed by the Latin American Episcopal Conference (CELAM), which explicitly deployed Marxist themes and language to denounce American capitalism. A major contribution of CELAM was to promote the doctrine of the preferential option for the poor, which quickly became the usual standard by which social and economic policies were judged and promoted by the American bishops and the USCCB.
The bishops promulgated a pastoral letter entitled Economic Justice for All in the 1980s that was meant to be a guide for Catholic social action emerging from public hearings on economic issues, a new approach to writing such documents. Despite the open manner in which opinions were sought and the importance of the topic, the letter was a failure, since it was basically a committee document with a general tendency toward progressive social and economic reform but whose recommendations did not consistently make sense. Unlike a previous pastoral letter by the bishops on nuclear war, the letter on the economy made no splash on the national scene.
The left-wing social policies advocated by Catholic liberals after the Second Vatican Council were as much influenced by contemporary liberal thought as by the Gospels. The preferential option for the poor reflects the argument of the liberal political philosopher John Rawls that economic and social inequalities can only be justified by their positive effect on the poorest in society. It is noteworthy that the preferential option marks a significant departure from the Church’s previous concern refl ected in the social encyclicals of earlier popes. The point of these earlier encyclicals was to provide a moral argument on behalf of workingmen and their families, who were seen as far less powerful than the owners of factories and commercial enterprises employing them. In the process of rapid industrialization, the Church was anxious to protect those people who had left farms in large numbers to become factory workers in large cities. The preferential option for the poor, however, has displaced the Church’s concern for productive workers to those who are at the bottom rung of society and do not or cannot contribute to it. In this manner, the Church has, in effect, turned its back on middle-class workers and taxpayers, who no longer appear to need its advocacy. It now seems as if in promoting the prefer ential option in an age of global expansion of an industrial, capitalist economy, the Church seeks to draw attention to those who cannot be participants in its expansion. Catholic advocates of progressive social doctrine in America are inclined to equate the preferential option for the poor directly with the expansion of welfare state benefits and must have found it disconcerting when Pope John Paul II in his last social encyclical declared that the “social assistance state,” that is, the welfare state, was not a refl ection of gospel concern for the poor and that the free market was valuable as a means of distribution.
The downside of the liberal influence in the Catholic Church can be seen in its effects. First, the promotion of engagement in the world as the preferred Christian vocation following Vatican II resulted in many priests and nuns’ leaving their vocations and a precipitous decline in new entrants to these vocations on which the Church depends for its existence. Social activism trumps sacramental dedication in the liberal church. Second, liberal churchmen and -women doubt the legitimacy of the Church’s claim to be a divinely founded institution and argue that the Church should cultivate a dramatically humbler idea of itself. Liberals argue on principle against the Church’s putative triumphalism and think that the only sufficient act of reparation for Catholic anti-Semitism is a degree of self-abnegation tantamount to institutional suicide. There is in the liberal church, a general spirit of anti-authoritarianism reaching beyond resentment of the imperious attitude of priests and prelates in the immigrant church. Rather, it is an attitude that denies or seeks to downplay the relevance of historical norms and institutional structures present in the Church. The absolutism of moral rules, the male priesthood, the existence of hell, and the authority of the pope are attacked as if no impediment to radical reform of the Church or restriction of any kind on an individual’s personal belief or behavior is acceptable. The existence of the Catholic Church in its historical form is seen by liberals as an impediment to the attainment of true freedom and earthly perfection.
The Conservative Church
It was not long before a backlash began against the liberals who had dominated and set the terms of the reforms, first by tradition-minded priests and lay Catholics, but subsequently at the level of the papacy.19 The accession of John Paul II to the papacy seems providential in this regard. Liberal critics see him as a figure of reaction, yet John Paul II and his successor Benedict XVI were not setting the Church’s clock back to where it was prior to the beginning of Vatican II. Instead these two popes were bringing forth the intended aims of the Council, for it seemed to them that the effects of the Council had gone too far. John Paul and Benedict are not reactionaries in full, but representatives of an ecclesiastical Thermidorean reaction fighting against the excesses of post-conciliar reforms and attempting to return the Church to the true form originally envisioned by the Council fathers. It was never intended by the bishops of the Council that ancient Catholic traditions be abolished, so among these reforms is a greater willingness to have the old Tridentine Rite (the Extraordinary Form) of the Mass made available to those who want it, and lately, to put brief sections of Latin into the vernacular Mass (the Ordinary Form or Novus Ordo); Catholics in favor of liturgical reform portray this as a complete aboutface rather than an accommodation. However, John Paul II did forcefully squelch the movement for female priests even as he rode triumphantly in parades throughout major cities in all parts of the world.
During his long papacy John Paul II wrote and sent out to the world a large number of writings addressing spiritual, but just as often cultural, political, and economic issues. There were important encyclicals opposing moral and epistemological relativism and another on the relation of faith to reason aimed at Catholic theologians but of direct interest to philosophers and intellectuals concerned with the topic. There were other writings as well, but it was by his very presence as a charismatic leader who often outshone the politicians with whom he appeared that John Paul II was influential, reviving confidence among many Catholics about their faith and, not incidentally, inspiring many young Catholic men to become priests. It was by his charismatic presence that he inspired the Solidarity movement in Poland, and his conspiratorial maneuvering with Zbigniew Brzezinski (also a nativeborn Pole), the American labor movement, and President Reagan was instrumental in bringing down the Communist regimes in Poland and Eastern Europe and eventually in Russia itself. The papacy of John Paul II was enormously influential, because it revived the sense of Catholic tradition and brought to fulfillment the Church’s anti-Communist policy in Europe.
There is a parallel conservative church consisting of educational institutions, publishing houses, and a television network existing alongside the liberal church. Among them are colleges including the University of Dallas, Franciscan University of Steubenville, Ave Maria College and Law School, and Thomas More College, mostly newly formed institutions, often founded by laymen, with a traditionalist or conservative bent (Thomas More and other traditionalist colleges often advertise in National Review). These colleges are more likely to produce priests and nuns from among their alumni, on a relative basis and possibly an absolute basis, than the older, more established Catholic colleges and universities. There are several conservative Catholic journals including Crisis (formerly Catholicism in Crisis), founded by Ralph McInerny and Michael Novak, while the National Catholic Register is the traditionalist weekly counterpart to the liberal National Catholic Reporter. Ignatius Press, founded by Joseph Fessio, S.J., is the largest provider of books, Bibles, DVDs, and audio recordings for the conservative church. The most unique and visible element of the conservative church is the Eternal Word Television Network (EWTN), founded by a charismatic nun, Mother Angelica and directly supported by its viewers. EWTN broadcasts 24/7 and produces most of its programming from Irondale, Alabama.
The Catholic Church in America shares certain religious and cultural tendencies with Protestantism in its multifarious forms. One such shared tendency is with evangelical and tradition-minded Protestants who have brought great attention to the need for the restoration of traditional values and of opposition to the recent secularization of American politics. Conservative Catholics and traditionally minded Protestants have combined forces on social issues including abortion and the sexualization of the media, and traditional Christians of all denominations enthusiastically received Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ.22 Protestantism and Catholicism, which historically have been at loggerheads, found themselves with a great deal in common in the face of secularization and moral relativism, a coming together that has provided significant support for the conservative movement in America.
The Catholic Church Divided
The dilemma of American Catholicism is that it is in a situation of profound internal conflict between those roughly characterized as left-wing, liberal, or progressive, on one side, and right-wing or conservative on the other. This internal split affects the manner in which doctrines are interpreted and understood, the way that individual Catholics practice their religion, and their opinions about politics, culture, and the role of the Church in the public arena. It is possible, and indeed likely, that a conservative Catholic will disagree with an official statement of the American Catholic bishops expressed through their official organization, the USCCB. On the other hand, it is often the case that a liberal Catholic will disagree with papal pronouncements and policies that contradict the “spirit” of Vatican II, which, albeit indefinite, seemed to promise a greater freedom of opinions and actions within the Church. It is possible for either a liberal or a conservative to be a “good Catholic,” that is, one who attends Mass regularly, is loyal to the Church, and tries to obey the Commandments. However, it is likely that liberals will eschew traditional Catholic practices such as Eucharistic adoration, the Rosary, or devotions to specific saints such as Therese of Lisieux, and will support the ordination of women to the priesthood. The liberal mindset tends to make the Catholic religion rest on its concern for the poor and on social activism while downplaying traditional Catholic expressions of the evils of sin and the need for reparation. In Catholic Masses today, it is usual that almost all the congregants receive Communion even as very few Catholics go to confession any more, an anomalous situation that is more likely the result of “feel good” apologetics within the Church than a decisive increase in the holiness of most Catholics. The conservative mindset remains alive to the existence of evil in the world and the necessity to combat it and is particularly energized by the presence of abortion, which it sees as a scandalous fault of contemporary American society. Conservative Catholics will participate in traditional devotions and may look favorably upon the Extraordinary Form of the Mass.
In the 1980s Cardinal Bernardin of Chicago proposed a “seamless garment” solution to the divisions between the liberal and conservative trends in the Church. Bernardin’s approach sought to combine the energy of the anti-abortion movement, which characterizes the conservative church, and apply it to the broader social concerns of the liberal church. Thus poverty, prejudice, the environment, and inequities in housing and education would be included as “life” issues with the hope that the same degree of spontaneous intensity that the Catholic faithful bring to the abortion issue would be applied to these social issues. The seamless garment appeal did not take hold, although the broader social issues are still sometimes referred to in the rhetoric of the institutional Church as “life issues.” The main reason for its failure seems to be not so much resistance to social justice among conservative Catholics but a result of their greater concern about abortion. The ferocious defense of abortion rights in secular culture reflects an overall sensibility that desacralizes human life and has been expanded to harvesting embryonic stem cells, cloning, euthanasia, and assisted suicide. Allied movements include the legalization of homosexual marriage and a sexualization of the popular culture so extensive that even secular critics are presently noticing and condemning it. The power of these aggressively secular and immoral movements within American society presents a clear and present danger according to Catholic morality, and shocks the conscience of Catholics (and many others) more than inequalities in housing and income. The accusation is often made that Catholics today are “cafeteria Catholics,” accepting those practices and doctrines of the Church of which they personally approve and neglecting or ignoring those they don’t. This claim might seem to be evenhandedly applied to both the liberal and conservative positions within the Church, the liberals ignoring the Church on abortion, sexual morality, and authority, the conservatives ignoring the Church on poverty, social justice, and capital punishment. However, the claim more clearly applies to the liberal positions, since the immorality of abortion is a matter of clear definition, as are homosexual acts and living together without benefit of sacramental marriage, while both doctrinally and historically, the Catholic Church defended the authority of bishops and the pope. On the other hand, the conservative position on poverty does not deny the central mission of Christians to help the poor but questions how it is to be done. Welfare-state solutions to poverty, health concerns, and social inequalities meet with sharp conservative opposition, which gives a false impression that conservatives are indifferent to suffering. Conservatives will depend on free-market solutions for systemic problems in the economy and emphasize the personal obligation to help the poor we meet and among whom we live, rather than supporting massive government programs whose inefficiency and wastefulness is notorious. (Dorothy Day, a heroine of liberal Catholicism, opposed the government welfare programs of Franklin Roosevelt and Lyndon Johnson.) Regarding the death penalty, according to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, imposition of the penalty is allowable, although significant criteria must be met if the death penalty is to be licitly administered.
Through the USCCB and the allied Campaign for Human Development, the institutional Church promotes what amounts to a left-wing agenda and often exerts its considerable influence on behalf of liberal governmental programs. This approach makes an appeal to liberal elites who often tout their own sense of compassion for the poverty-stricken and alienated, but in America, as in developed nations worldwide, the liberal elites tend to be explicitly secular to the point of excluding religion from their purview.28 While secular liberals may accept the help of the Church in lobbying for the extension of food stamps or loosened immigration standards, those same elites promote gay marriage, abortion, and embryonic stem-cell research just as strongly, if not more. Thus any appeal to secular liberal elites has a downside since it legitimizes positions that the Church finds immoral, even as the liberal church refuses to appeal to the business, financial, or entrepreneurial communities for support.
Embracing the Church’s “Inner Conservatism”
The conflict between liberals and conservatives within the Church results in mixed messages going out from its bishops, so that the majority of Catholics in the last presidential election voted for Barack Obama even though he is a firm supporter of abortion rights. One of the causes of the Catholic majority vote for Obama was a document put out by the bishops called “Conscience and Your Vote,” which encouraged Catholic voters to consider candidates’ positions on topics other than abortion in coming to a decision on their vote. The document followed a common liberal argument within the Church that abortion need not be the decisive issue in voting for a political candidate. The dilemma for the bishops and Catholic liberals is that political candidates who are “pro-life” are almost always conservative on such issues as welfare, housing, immigration, the death penalty, and war, so that making abortion the decisive issue effectively results in the institutional Church’s supporting Republican candidates.
Another confl ict between the Church’s liberal and conservative impulses arises from the Campaign for Human Development, the Church’s official arm supporting Saul Alinsky-style direct action to offset social injustice. The annual appeal made at Sunday Masses nationwide to support the CHD met with more-than-usual resistance this year because of the revelation that CHD had been contributing monies to ACORN, which has recently been accused of engaging in systematic voter fraud. One local pastor distributed the self-exonerating statement put out by Bishop Morin regarding relations between the CHD and ACORN, but added to it his own statement that left it to the consciences of individual members of his congregation whether or not to contribute to the annual collection for the CHD.
The exception to the left-wing agenda of the USCCB are the issues involving sex and reproduction, but in the present context this is not merely a broad exception to the Church’s liberalism; it is a disqualifying exception. No matter how progressive it may be on issues such as poverty and immigration, the Church’s opposition to abortion, gay marriage, cloning, embryonic stem-cell research, in-vitro fertilization, and euthanasia, and its refusal to ordain women to the priesthood mean inevitably that in the context of secular American culture, the Catholic Church will not be seen as progressive. On the contrary, the Church continues to be seen as a retrograde force by progressively inclined people, including those within the Church.
Culturally, the Church continues to be seen as a bulwark of social conservatism, in its doctrines and practices the last institutional resistance to moral relativism and absolute personal freedom within American culture. This evokes tremendous opposition amounting to a new form of American anti-Catholicism. The original source of American anti-Catholicism was Protestant doctrine and anti-immigrant sentiment, most of which has been overcome as the general Catholic population has become integrated into American society. The new form of anti-Catholicism is based on the Church’s doctrines regarding sex and reproduction, as well as its explicit declaration that an objective moral code based on divine inspiration exists.31 The new anti-Catholicism is ideological and is based on the progressive belief in personal autonomy completely free from any social connectedness and opposition to any putative authority seeking to impose social control or promote a public moral standard. Catholic attempts to influence the culture with reference to an objective moral order have been seriously undercut by the recent pedophilia scandal. But the conflict remains, and the Church’s explicitly progressive policies promoted by USCCB lobbying and CHD agitation do not and almost certainly cannot overcome the implied conservatism of its actions on behalf of the truth of divinely inspired moral teaching. In effect the Catholic Church today in America is politically liberal but culturally conservative. But in the context of the increasing secularization of American culture, it is its cultural conservatism that will increasingly characterize the countercultural position of the Catholic Church in America.
Those currently called “conservative” within the Church often started out as defenders of the Church’s traditional practices and its doctrines whose motive was not to promulgate a conservative political philosophy within the Church. But like “neocons” in the political arena they often find themselves called “conservative” and relegated to an outer darkness by liberals within the Church, although their center of gravity lies in religious rather than political or economic concerns. (A well-known Franciscan preacher active in the pro-life movement has felt compelled to say, “We are not conservatives.”) Nonetheless, on the issues of abortion, church authority, and promotion of traditional devotions, the aims of these religious traditionalists coincide with the conservative mindset. But a crisis is coming and in fact has arrived, and as a result the Catholic Church in America will have to embrace her inner conservatism, even though this will strike many Catholics as unseemly. The Church will be better off, however, by dropping its attempt to appeal to liberals and extending a more benign attitude to those peculiarly American traditions of entrepreneurialism, personal independence, dislike of big government, and the middle-class values of hard work and toleration that have enabled Catholics in America to achieve an unparalleled degree of integration and success— and which provide the universal Catholic Church with a model of how best to meet the new conditions of postmodernity.
Source American Conservatism and the Catholic Church https://isi.org/intercollegiate-review/american-conservatism-and-the-catholic-church/

Hey guys, just totaled my 2013 Honda Civic because some jackass wanted to text and drive and decided to hit me while I was crossing a four way stop. Starting next January I'll be student teaching and will have no money coming in for six months while I finish student teaching and get through summer break so I sadly can't go out and get locked into a loan right now. Luckily my dad has offered to sell me his 2008 Rav 4 for a great price since the market is so shit, god bless that man. It's a 2008 with the JBL system, would anybody have any info on a good CarPlay unit with a backup camera? I'm by no means a car guy so forgive my ignorance in advance, but after a bit of research I see that the Ravs with the JBL systems need special parts I believe? If anybody could shoot me some links I would greatly appreciate it, thanks in advance and excited to be a part of the club!

Hi Everyone,
I am in the market to buy my first car. I am going for Japanese brands and looking for reliability and if possible a bit of performance, although my options are limited. This is the list of good options I accumulated from the Facebook marketplace in the Montreal region. Please give me some advice on what priority to go visit these sellers.
I have attached an image of the excel sheet I made as well as the pdf and excel file if the image pixelates on zooming.PDF and excel
Thanks in advance and have a great day/night ahead.
​
https://preview.redd.it/qvjbu6086lpa1.png?width=1743&format=png&auto=webp&s=6eaeee0d98fbb339719b1ce8246c3abccdc61a38

I had a Walker aftermarket catalytic converter installed back in 2004 Honda accord since the OEM got stolen. Now, engine light P0420 comes up and local muffler fixed a leak. Three days later, same engine light goes off and now the muffler shop is telling me that I need a new CAT.
Car burns oil (a quart/1,000miles), a small oil leak, 268k miles and SMOG due this summer.
Is it worth replacing the CAT for $1100? No guarantee how long it would last 😞 Or attempt to use CataClean to pass SMOG test? Or just buy another car?
Thanks!