SwitchedToLinux
Science & Tech
In Your Dreams
Short Story Series
February 15, 2024
post photo preview

I – The Protocol

Noise echoed from every corner of the crowded lecture hall. Students had been filtering in for twenty minutes without instruction. Causal conversations between college-age men and women danced through the lecture hall. A few people came with friends, the rest wondered in alone for the hope of a few cookies perched just outside the door. The hundred dollar cash prize for selected participants provided further incentive.

Sara took in the sights, scribbling down notes of observations, the training from her journalism degree. She also thought that, as a columnist for the campus newspaper, a story might emerge from all this. She scanned the room for any of her friends, but didn’t notice any at first glance.

Sara noticed an older man in a loosely fitting suit approach the podium that had previously sat lonely in center stage.

“Please quiet down now, folks.”

The room silenced like a lecture was about to begin. What started as a noisy evening turned into the attention usually reserved for the midterm exams.

“My name is Dr. Philips. I will be the lead investigator on this project. I want to introduce to you my two assistants. Michelle is my post-doc fellow, and Jason, my graduate student. I trust you are all here in response to our call for participants in our next study. This is the Dream Study, where we will attempt to measure the effectiveness of sleep when placed inside a dream.”

The students looked around at each other. One person raised their hand.

“Yes, sir?” Dr. Philips said, pointing to the student.

“What if we don’t dream much?” The young man replied.

“Well, sir, this is a followup to our prior work that demonstrated the ability to induce dreams over eighty percent of the time. Now we are measuring the effectiveness of sleep on academic performance, health markers, and the like, while in an induced dream state.”

Sara raised her hand next.

“Ma’am?”

“Thank you, Dr. Philips. How will you measure our health and academic performance?”

“I’m getting there, if I may continue.”

She nodded to him and smiled.

“We will hand out some forms where we need to get your permission to monitor your health through a smartwatch, and your grades through your department. We will have some strict protocols about the time you get to sleep and the number of hours you achieve each night. If you regularly attend parties, you can excuse yourself at any point. We do not want the parties to influence us yet, but next semester we intend to perform a similar experiment for the party crowd, so please return next year for consideration in a similar study.”

Several students stood up and gathered their belongings.

“Please help yourself to more cookies and coffee. We don’t want any to go to waste.”

Dr. Philips paused while the party crowd exited the room.

“Now, for those who remain, our study follows strict human review protocols, so you consent to our collecting limited health markers. We will supply you with a smartwatch that you will wear. It monitors heart rate, sleep time, and sleep state. It does not monitor or track your location. You will install an app on your phone and make sure to it connects to the watch. The app will transmit the data it collects over the day to our servers for study. We will not know who exactly has which watch. It is double-blind, limited participants for this first trial study.”

He paused and looked around the room.

“Now, please excuse yourself if you do not consent to these guidelines.”

A few more students trickled out of the room leaving about thirty people left.

“Now, I’ll ask Jason for a brief demonstration of our equipment used to induce our dream state.”

The student approached the podium with the same nervous apprehension many people have standing before crowds, especially as a young, untested graduate student. The bulky equipment resembling a VR helmet in his hand intensified his awkwardness.

“So, uh, everyone will wear a headset when they go to sleep at night. We will show you how to turn it on and connect it to your app. The device, uh, will connect to your brainwaves, and, uh, sync your brain with the frequency you need to dream.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Dr. Philips said, once again taking the podium. “So, if you would like to be considered for participation in the study, please stay behind, and we have a detailed experimental opt-in form.”

After the remaining students trickled out, about twenty people remained and were interested in the study.

“OK, Michelle and Jason will hand out the forms. It is self-explanatory, but needs to be filled out in completion. We need your major, the names of any friends you have who are still in the room, all the consent forms filled out, and check that you agree to this thirty-day project, which you will see to the end.”

Only for Supporters
To read the rest of this article and access other paid content, you must be a supporter
1
What else you may like…
Videos
Posts
Articles
Thank You for Supporting on Locals!

Thanks for your support. By supporting SwitchedToLinux, we are able to spend more time working on tutorials and looking at software to help people make the transition from spying software to tools that respect our rights.

00:03:00
April 08, 2025

It might just be me, but I've found even on GrayJay I don't get your SwitchedToLinux YouTube streams, or anything YouTube for OurWalkInChrist, instead I only see that you've uploaded or are live from Rumble (and sometimes Twitch), or from going to your channel page. I wonder if YouTube is interfering with being able to see your stuff on third party apps as well.

No Show Today, Hangout Only

No show tonight due to Halloween, but we will do a hangout at 7:00p on the normal link.

@SwitchedToLinux Just watched your recent video on Western Digital. FYI - You can install Windows To Go with RUFUS. I have a Windows 10 and 11 installed on 32 GB USBs. They work without issue.

post photo preview
Pollentia
Science Fiction Short Story Series

Audiobook Info at the Bottom

Part I – A World in Harmony

Ellas leaned back on the bench seat, watching the autonomous cars go by. As usual, riders only occupied about half of the cars in movement. The empty cars routed automatically to pick up a rider or being shuffled around by the central scheduling system for strategic deployment. Many vehicles started creating a double file line around the Prod Segment central administration building to prepare for the first shift of employees to leave to fetch a ride back to their unit.

She glanced at her phone, checking on the location of the Tranzport bus. Still a few minutes away, so she turned to the familiar stranger sitting next to her on the bench.

“How’s your son doing in school?”

“Good,” the lady said. “You’re Ellas, right? Council Member Alaric’s wife?”

“That’s right,” Ellas answered.

“That’s great. Is he still at the Crescent Segment?” The lady asked.

She had read about the trade negotiations with the other Segment in the Pollentia Times, as the efforts to keep peace through trade always landed at the top of all the news feeds. Pictures of the Council families often raised them to celebrity status, something that always irked Ellas.

“He is due to arrive back here, then he has to sit in quarantine for a week before he can come home. I hate that part the most.”

A simultaneous notification beeped on both their phones. Ellas glanced at the screen and stood up, awaiting the Tranzport bus. The other parents also stood up and approached the terminal. The bus arrived, ringing the clearance alarm, before opening up the doors to a flood of children pouring out.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said out of politeness to the familiar stranger, then called out, “Nikolas!”

A dark-haired boy ran up, grasping her thigh.

“Hi, Mommy!” he said.

She looked at him with a smile and took his hand to walk down the stairs to the sublevel for the walk home.

“What did you learn in school today?” She asked.

“I learned how our world made peace with each other,” Nikolas said, jumping from square to square on the floor pattern, trying to avoid the cracks.

“Tell me about it,” she encouraged.

“Since people think differently,” he said, making another jump, “And no one could agree, we decided moving apart from each other was the best solution, so everyone here believes the same thing!”

“Very good, Nikolas. And what are the cities called?”

“Um,” he thought, “Segments!”

“Good.” she said. “And you know your daddy works with the Segment Officials to keep peace between the Segments, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking sadly at the ground. “I miss Daddy.”

They reached a raised platform and walked up the steps to their unit. Ellas waved her hand over the security panel and the color switched from red to green with a beep. Nikolas ran inside and threw his bag on the floor without a care. Ellas followed him in and placed the bag up on the stand where it belongs. She grabbed her phone and swiped a notification off the screen, then she opened up the Tranzport app and clicked the button to request a ride for two. The screen confirmed the priority order for families of council officials and reported a five-minute wait for a car to arrive.

“Nikolas,” she called out, “We need to head out again.”

“Why?” He protested.

She placed her hands on her hips and gave him the eye she trained him with to obey without question.

“OK,” he said.

They walked out the door, hearing the lock alarm behind them. The two stood on the Tranzport pickup platform, awaiting the car. The vehicle arrived within a minute and opened the door. Nikolas jumped in first, then Ellas hit the door close button and confirmed the quarantine wing of the hospital was the intended destination.

----

“Daddy!” Nikolas yelled, running toward a glass divider wall.

“My boy!” Alaric declared with open arms. They both touched the glass opposite each other, longing for an embrace.

Ellas took her time walking up while father and son reunited through the miracles of glass containment and a functional sound system.

“Hi Alaric, were the meetings a success?”

“They were, honey,” he said. “We have a potential trade deal in the works, allowing our Segment to provide some raw materials for battery production, and they will provide software technology to streamline Tranzport scheduling, particularly around our Sunday worship schedules.”

“Did you get the feeling peace will remain between the Segments?”

“I learned about world peace in school today, Daddy!” Nikolas proclaimed.

The Global President attained general accord in Pollentia by a tactic of isolation and a strict code of conduct when representatives for two Segments meet together. The prevailing thought kept the peace by isolating people into pockets of deeply held beliefs, allowing each Segment to create their own regulations. Visitors had to remain silent when visiting a different Segment. Thus, peace was only as fragile as the mandatory natural zones between them. Woe to the ones, however, who traveled into those forsaken regions.

Alaric, for his part, worked in the council for his Segment negotiating trade deals between people with different beliefs. The hard work paid well and offered a rare protected means of traveling to see different Segments. Most Pollentian citizens have neither need nor permission to go outside their Segment.

“World peace,” Alaric said, “I wish peace resided in the hearts of men and not in the laws of our nation!”

“When can you come home, Daddy?” Nikolas said, looking up at his father.

“After my one-week quarantine period is over, then I can come home. But I’ll call you tonight and help put you to bed!”

Ellas’s phone beeped a notification that the quarantine visitation drew to an end, and the Tranzport car would be available in five minutes.

“Say goodbye, Nikolas. It’s time to go.”

 

Only for Supporters
To read the rest of this article and access other paid content, you must be a supporter
Read full Article
post photo preview
Chatter
Science Fiction Short Story Series Vol 2

Part I – Ideal Offspring

“I’ll get those, Mikey,” Bobby said with concern in his voice.

“But I wanna get-em,” he countered.

“OK, I’ll just make sure you don’t fall.”

Mikey leaned his knee up on the counter and dodged the cupboard as the door swung inches from his face. He grabbed four cups one at a time, placing them on the counter. He swung the door back closed and slid his foot back onto the chair. Bobby removed his hands from hovering over his little brother’s midsection and grabbed two of the cups, taking them to the table. Mikey slid the chair across the floor before retrieving the other two glasses.

“Both of you go wash your hands,” Mom said.

“Come on, Mikey,” the older brother encouraged.

The two kids emerged from the bathroom and sat down at the table.

“Dad, can we play Trouble after dinner?”

“Sure,” he said. “Is that OK with you, Bobby?”

“Of course. I still need to take revenge for losing last time!” He said, smirking at Mikey, who smiled back up at him.

“Bobby,” Mom said, “Did you get your test back yet?”

“Yep,” he smiled, “I got an ‘A’. I need one of you to sign it for tomorrow.”

“Great job, son,” Dad said. Changing the subject, he reminded the family of his late night planned for the following day.

“I forgot,” Mom said. “I won't be here either. Bobby, will you be here to get Mikey off the bus?”

“Sure, but remember I am going to John’s house for dinner, so will someone be here before I need to leave?”

“Yes,” Mom said, “I will be back at 4:00, and I think you will be leaving at 4:45.”

“Great. I will make sure I finish my homework before you get home.”

The family was silent for the rest of the meal, then Bobby picked up the dishes and Mikey rinsed the table. The family operated as a well oiled machine, readying the kitchen table for evening games in a short period of time. The evening went on as normal without fights or struggles. Bobby finally won, and Mikey jokingly teased him about finally taking the victory.

They relaxed as a family for another hour and then began their nighttime process. Bobby always encouraged Mikey to stay on track, teaching him to brush his teeth and even helping to tuck his little brother in for the night.

His own evening lasted an hour longer.

“Mom, Dad?” He started, “Did you think about getting me a phone for my birthday?”

“We did, Bobby. We are concerned it might get in the way of your responsibilities.”

“I’m turning 13 this weekend, and all my friends have phones of their own,” he said.

“I know, Bobby, and it might seem like we are being tough, but we also know phones can have a negative impact on our lives.” Dad said.

“You are responsible,” Mom said. “We don’t want to let anything break that. If you develop good habits now, they will be with you forever.”

“All that being said,” Dad said. “We think it would be good to test it out how you respond to a phone while you are still young, so we will give you one.”

“Thanks!” He yelled out, then silenced himself to not awaken his brother. “You’re the BEST!”

He kissed both his parents and brought the three of them in for a group hug.



-----



Bobby stood in the driveway kicking around a rock between his feet. He heard the sound of air breaks in the distance and straightened up his posture waiting for the bus to stop in front of his house. He approached the bus to grab Mikey’s hand for the big step off the bus. The two boys ran into the house together.

“I need to do my homework, Mikey, so let’s grab a snack and I want you to get something to do on the table.”

“I want a cookie!” he said, running off to his room.

Bobby heard some shuffling as Mikey opened and closed different drawers in his room. He emerged from the room with a coloring book and some crayons, sitting at a table in front of a big cookie. He slid the plate over and sat at the chair next to his big brother and colored while Bobby struggled through a round of math problems.

The door opened shortly and Mom walked in.

“Hi Mom!” Bobby said.

“Hello boys. How are you doing?”

“Look Mom! I colored this for you,” Mikey said, showing her a cleanly colored page of Thanksgiving turkeys.

“That’s nice, dear,” she said. “I’ll hang it on the refrigerator.”

“My homework is about done, the cat is fed, and Mikey had a snack already. Is there anything else I need to do before getting ready to go to John’s house?”

“No, son. Have a good time.”

 

Only for Supporters
To read the rest of this article and access other paid content, you must be a supporter
Read full Article
post photo preview
The Art of Personhood
Science Fiction Short Story Series Vol 2

Audiobook link below

Part I – A Shortcut to the Long Game

Douglas sat on the mahogany ridge leaning in toward the young lady who just pressed herself across the bar asking for a margarita.

“Come here often?” He asked.

She glanced over at him and let out a quick smile. “Once in a while,” she said, fixing her glance on him.

“Me too,” Douglas replied, “but I received a job offer in Ohio, so I’m savoring my last few days here.”

“So you’re a recent grad?” She asked.

“Comp Sci,” he confirmed.

“Me too, El Ed,” she said, sliding onto the barstool. She smiled at him again, asking after the fact if the stool was free. “I’m off to California.” She said, adding, “It’s the only place I could find a job.”

“Too bad we’re going our separate ways. We could get together for some fun if you were also coming to Columbus,” he nodded his head,

“So much for all this ‘opportunity’ they promised us. It sucks that my debt is five times higher than my gross salary,” she said.

“Me, too,” Douglas said. “That’s as gross as it gets. At least I received an entry level position, but I might make more working as a barista once I factor in tips.”

The bartender arrived with her drink, but Douglas beat her to paying for it. The man smiled at both of them, asking if about anything else the couple needed before returning the credit card.

“Thanks for the drink. I’m Sara, by the way,” she said.

Douglas formally introduced himself and continued his conversation about the debt load. He was a classic geek, complete with spreadsheets about his expected take home pay, expenses, and even how much…or little he could pay off on his debt.

“I would like to see that spreadsheet,” she said, placing her hand on his.

“My apartment is only a few blocks away. We could continue this conversation there…”

-----

“Fifteen years,” he playfully slammed the table with his hand.

“There must be a faster way,” Sara said.

“According to the numbers, not without a pretty quick and dramatic raise. Hopefully, I can stay at the company long enough to collect a higher salary, then I will make more than minimum payments.”

They punched numbers and spent the duration of the evening looking at different scenarios and talking about ways to cut as many costs as possible. Every bit helped to pay down the debt, but still the salary numbers were nothing next to the debt. The evening ended with an email to his new friend and they both slipped into the bed together.

-----

Douglas woke up slightly hungover and looked over to an empty bed. Sara had woken up early in the morning and left, leaving a note on the nightstand thanking him for a wonderful evening and promising to email him soon.

His bones creaked as he stretched his way out of bed and put on his clothes from the previous night. With only a day of packing ahead of himself, hygiene didn’t cross his mind, however, thinking about ways to shortcut his way to prosperity did.

He flipped open his email, sorting through dozens of scam email messages. “If only one person in ten-thousand falls for this, it’s a big payout.” he said to himself.

Douglas opened up a text editor and started scribbling down notes.

NAME

ADDRESS

BANK ACCOUNT

VERIFICATION

PHONE NUMBER

PERSONHOOD CREDENTIALS

He stopped to read the last words. “This is the key,” he said aloud to the empty room. “How can I get personhood credentials for a person who doesn’t exist?”

The recently rolled out blockchain-based cryptographic codes and documentations were making waves for many businesses to use the new system for verification that a person was really a person, and not a computer bot. The credentials can also identify such a person if the system administrator setup the computer for an identity check.

Douglas looked at his wallet and looked at the ID card containing his own credentials. His finger ran over the RFID chip that broadcast his own personhood credentials. He remembered the times he needed to use his card for online transactions to prove he was a real person. The Internet said this was a foolproof way to get around ubiquitous artificial intelligence that took over the Internet a few years ago.

“I need an identity for someone who has been in the system,” he said. “But I don’t want to steal one.”

He turned on his Tor browser and started a hidden onion service search for clean, valid identities. He clicked through several sites selling stolen identification, but ultimately found one site showing promise.

“Our IDs are grown, not stolen. Each identification comes with a birth certificate, social security number, and an Internet profile. They are real–yet fake–people you can acquire for a small sum.”

Douglas saved the URL in his text file. He wrote under that a name, ‘Steve Rand’.

 

Only for Supporters
To read the rest of this article and access other paid content, you must be a supporter
Read full Article
See More
Available on mobile and TV devices
google store google store app store app store
google store google store app tv store app tv store amazon store amazon store roku store roku store
Powered by Locals