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Never Surrender - Chapter 4 [OC]

first | next
“What functions?” asked Luke, startled.
The world sucked into itself, and Luke was standing in the middle of a white, sterile empty room about twenty foot square. Clean white light shone from ceiling tiles, and yet the room felt comfortable, like an old friend that you knew once, but hadn’t seen for a while.
“This is the simulator”, said the man who looked like a cross between his old history teacher and the guy on the adverts for car insurance, as he stepped into view. The voice had a face now.
“You are experiencing time at an increased pace, only limited by how fast you can think. Your body is exactly where it was a moment ago, and you can go back to it at any time you like.”
An image of himself sitting at his desk appeared next to him in the room. It was incredibly lifelike. He walked over and poked himself in the cheek.
Nope. Didn’t feel a thing.
The man looked at him curiously, “What are you doing?”
“You’re in my head. Don’t you know?”
“No. Your thoughts are your own. This area is a construct I have created.”
“What do I call you?”
“I do not know your thoughts. What do you call me?”
“No, I mean what is your name? You look human, even though you were just a voice in my head until a few seconds ago.”
“I have serial numbers, but it would take several hours to list them verbally, and I am unsure what possible use you would have for that information.”
“Ok. Can you think of a way to combine all the serial numbers into one common number or word to represent yourself?”
“No. How would I choose one representation over another?”
“I’m not sure. My parents chose my name. I did name our kitten when I was ten.”
“How did you choose?”
“It was the name of a video game character in a game I liked.”
“I have not played any video games.“
“How old are you?”
“I range from 87,134 to 195,054 years since initial production.”
“Too old for computer games. Got it. Maybe you should choose an artist you like.”
“What is an artist?”
“Seriously? Someone who creates things for a living.”
“I would call those engineers.”
“Ok. This is going to be difficult. Do you have a favourite engineer?”
“Theodore Smythe. He invented the original prototype nanites to straighten his teeth because he was scared of the dentist.”
“Ok. Weird. You’re a Ted. Honestly didn’t see that coming. Oooh! You might be an Agent Smith.”
“You say a lot of things I do not understand.”
“Yeah. The other Ted says that, too. So where did you come from?”
“I was manufactured on 3,678 planets in and around Beta Traguni, and spent the majority of my existence in members of the Baguda clan. The family specialised in the refining and processing of awuita.”
“Planets? Plural. Are you an alien?”
“Well, yes, but technically you are too.”
“Would you care to elaborate to a fellow alien?”
The room shifted. The events which led to the last two humans arriving on Earth played out all around Luke in stunning detail.
Luke was stunned. It had felt incredibly real. Like a VR session, but on steroids, “Wow, so all humans really are from Eden. I did not see that coming.”
He was back in the room. The image of himself hadn’t moved, “How long did that take?”
“You have been in the simulator for 728 milliseconds.”
“Less than a second? Whoa. This is intense.”
“Your vital statistics are steady. Your operational readiness is off the scale. You are coping much better than the original landees. They would be pleased that their project worked so well.”
“What project?”
The world shifted again.
Noam sat at the last DNA resplicer. He looked at his extended family all around him.
“This will be permanent. We won’t be able to undo this, not with the tech we have remaining. Are we all resolved? Can we choose for everyone?”
Nods came from all around. His eldest son looked unsure, but his voice was firm as he said, “It’s the only way we can possibly survive. We all saw the projections. Only by substantially increasing our capacity for survival can we ever hope to thrive, but the risks are high. Do it.”
Sisksa, tall and graceful stood up, “How sure are we that the changes will be limited to what we have defined?”
“You know it is only 86%. We could not get it higher without destroying viability past seven generations.”
She sat down, smiling ruefully, “I know. I am just scared. We should still do it. If we cannot face our fears, how can we expect our descendants to?”
“So we are agreed.”
He pressed a small green button on the side of the machine. It beeped three times.
The automated resplicing core sent out a heavily coded pulse of energy. Everyone there could see green smoke energy lines pulsing and weaving off into the distance as it did its work.
“It is done.”
Everyone in the room was wreathed in the strange energy, and it sparked and pulsed over and through their skin.
“It tickles!”, laughed Eskra, the youngest adult there.
Noam turned to smile at her. Her optimism during the long and arduous years that this project had been inspiring. He was sure they would have given up long before if she hadn’t been steadfastly determined. It just wasn’t in human nature to be so tenacious.
The changes had started, though. He nodded to himself as he started to detect subtle changes in his own body. Eskra was right. It did tickle. The nanites reported that his muscle density was now at 100.13 percent and rising.
It was a deliberately slow process. They had agreed it that way. Too much change at once would unbalance the ecology of the entire planet. At least thirty-five days, probably forty, for the main splicing, followed by a settling down period that they had struggled to work out, but were pretty sure shouldn’t be longer than the main splicing.
The animals they had collected were skittish. He expected nothing less. Some of the species they were changing now would not survive. He wasn’t sure that humans would be among their number, but it was only a matter of time before the Ss’rask found humanity again, and this time they would not find a pacifistic pushover,
His eldest son had worried about them too. He had agreed to the project and had been instrumental in cataloguing the species on the planet. It was easier to get samples of the more common creatures in the area, but he had used the last of the fuel in the speeder getting samples from the rarer variety, and he had taken it as a personal affront that he hadn’t managed to get any species from one of the southern continents.
He was partly mollified by Noam’s plan to send a drone to the area to scan, but the low detail scans meant that he couldn’t set as fine a control as he’d wanted.
One by one, the people in the room clutched their heads. This was likely to be the most uncomfortable part. Visual acuity was going to be increased dramatically. Night vision and motion perception were also on the list, as well as reducing the time a signal took to get to the brain. This was definitely uncomfortable, and colours Noam had never experienced before danced in front of his eyes.
“Remind me why we’re changing the animals too, Uncle Noam,” said Eskra, partly to distract from the weird experience. “You did tell me, but I’m not sure I understand what convergent evolution means.”
Noam smiled at his niece, “If an ecological niche is occupied by a strong species with good defensive capabilities, then the only type of creature that can replace it is one which has a similar set of skills, but with a competitive advantage.”
“As you know, our species grew up on the type of garden world that is common in the cosmos. Our co-operation in a world of plenty took us to the stars.”
“But only competition will help us survive here. We have to be stronger, faster, more capable. But we also need to keep our co-operation. The love for each other and our family is what makes us human. We must have external pressure to keep those things and our strength.”
His son spoke up “Heat and pressure make beautiful solids.”
Noam nodded, “Exactly. This is going to spread through this world like a natural disaster. The weak will be made strong. I hope strong enough.”
“You know, they’ll tell the story of the auto resplicing cascade spreading for a thousand generations,” said Takipa. “It’ll flood the whole world.”
“Make sure they spell my name right”, said Noam.
submitted by beobabski to HFY



Welcome to episode 100 of Madlogic Mysteries. I’m, you guessed it: Madlogic. If you’ve been a fan for a couple of years, you’ll notice this is a new format for us, hence starting over at the 100 mark. Our old format was basically taking a single case, researching it, and presenting it as both a YouTube video and an audio podcast. Our new format is one that allows you, our listeners, to submit your supernatural and/or paranormal stories to us and have those stories included in our show. A while back, I sent the word out from our Facebook page, Twitter account, and Instagram accounts that we were actively looking for your story submissions. They can be submitted in any of these platforms:
YouTube: Madlogic Mysteries FB: @MadlogicMysteries IG: MadlogicMysteries Twitter: @MadlogicMystery (notice it’s not plural) Reddit: MadlogicMysteries
You can also email your story to us at [email protected]. It can be an audio or video file of you telling your story, or just written format. Please be 18 or older.
BY PHONE (3-minute recording limit. If it cuts you off, call back and continue) 614-285-6887 AKA: 61-HAUL-NUTS AKA: 614-285-NUTS
Responses were VERY good, but we can never have too many stories, so definitely submit yours today for a future episode.
Final note: I will almost never get political on my show, but just a touch on it very briefly let me just say that with the world being in the situations we’re in right now, we could use a healthy dose of escapism. I would like this show to be that for as many of you that need that. So if you have suggestions for the show, please send them in.
Story 1 The first submission of our first new-format episode comes to us via email from Dan in Kansas. He writes:
Hey there, Madlogic! I’m looking forward to listening to your podcast. It sounds like it’s going to be right up my alley. I’ve always been excited and intrigued by all things paranormal. Anyway, my story is this: In the fall of 2007, I bought a house here in rural Kansas. It was one of only 4 that had been built in this new housing development, and the other houses were still unoccupied. I was literally the only person living there and was surrounded on all sides by empty lots and construction equipment...except my backyard. My backyard was right up against a cornfield. Fall is my favorite time of year what with football, bonfires, the changing of the leaves, and the cooler nights. On this particular night, I decided to make use of my back deck and fire pit. It was well after midnight, and I was out there sitting by the fire in the cool night air. The corn in the field was well over 6’ tall. As I sat there relaxing, some motion caught my eye from where the cornfield met my backyard, about 90 feet away. I looked down at the edge of the cornfield where the motion was. Something was moving there. It was about 4 1/2 to 5’ tall and extremely gaunt. It’s body was completely black and glossy like wet ink. On its head it had straight black hair, and its head was tilted to one side like a curious dog. It didn’t seem to realize i was sitting there, either that or it was ignoring me. It walked the property line back and forth twice. I can only describe its movement as jerky, like trying to watch a video that is constantly stopping and restarting, like buffering. It was so frail-looking that i found myself watching to make sure those sudden movements and sudden stops didn’t cause it harm. As this living stickman moved, It was looking back into the cornfield, or at least I felt like it was. I had major goosebumps and the hair on the back of my neck was at full attention. And then gradually, walking backwards to keep its gaze on the cornfield, it moved toward me. I didn’t know what to do! I definitely didn’t want this thing near me, but i was afraid if i moved that it would hear me and then know i was there. I thought about how it would react to my presence if it were surprised by backing into me versus it being alerted to me by the sound of my running back to the house. The damn thing walked backwards at such an angle that it was now behind the fire and i couldn’t tell how close it was to me. I was frozen in place and fighting with my limbs to move. Just as I decided “screw this!” and stood up to run, its face peeked around the edge of the flames. It was absolutely blood chilling. It’s eyes were bright orange, I haven’t ruled out that it could’ve been caused by the fire reflecting in its eyes. I could see some of its teeth. It’s wasn’t snaring or smiling, but its mouth was slightly agape like someone about to speak. I ran for the house. I’m a pretty brave guy, I did 2 tours in Afghanistan, and this was the most scared for my life I’ve EVER been. It felt like I covered the 50 or so feet between the pit and the house in about 2 seconds. I slammed the door behind me, locked it, and went to my gun safe and took out my 12-gauge shotgun. I went to the back bedroom and looked out the window at the backyard. When I looked out the window, it was already looking my direction, like it knew exactly where I’m the house I was (there were no lights on in the house anywhere near that bedroom). It started to walk backwards again, towards the cornfield, its face still pointed at me. It glared at me, returned into the cornfield and vanished. I watched that spot of the cornfield for a good 2 hours, but i never saw it again, and I never slept that night. It left my backyard, but not my mind. Have you or any of the listeners ever heard of anything like this? I hope you use this, but if you don’t that’s OK. I’m looking forward to the new format.
Dan (Kansas)
Thanks, Dan. I guess by now you realize I’ve used it on the show.
You’ll all discover this as we progress through the episode, but I always like to approach things from a bit of a skeptical perspective. It’s not that I don’t believe you or anything like that, it’s just that the scariest and most thought-provoking stories are those that stand up to examination and/or cannot be easily explained away.
Theory That said, it would be interesting to know if you were really the only resident in the development...or if you just thought you were. What I’m getting at is was there any chance another family could’ve moved in unbeknownst to you and maybe had a mischievous son or daughter who had some sort of Halloween costume and wanted to play a trick on a new, unsuspecting neighbor. You mentioned it was fall, so I assume Halloween was still in the near future at that point, making costumes pretty easy to come by. And you said it yourself; this thing was at most 5’ all. It’s a little tougher to explain the jerky movements, unless maybe the kid was also a hardcore method actor. If it wasn’t a child having some fun, the description also sounds like a possible rake. The two problems with that explanation are that I believe the rake has been proven to have been an Internet creepypasta creation and not a real creature. And I’ve never heard of a baby rake, which is what this sounds like it would have been if it were a legitimate cryptid. But in any case, that’s a very creepy story.
Now, I did a little research and found a story that is pretty similar to Dan’s. The following story was found on LiveAbout.com and tells the story of an encounter Frank Semko had in Minnesota:
I used to work at a cheese factory on the edge of a cornfield in southwestern Minnesota. There were a series of days in the summer of '04 or '05 where it was so hot that the milk being delivered to us in trucks would evaporate before we got it. It made work easy; the dearth of milk denied us any actual labor, but management wouldn't let us not come to work, so we would show up and mess around all shift. I was working nights at the time. It was 2 or 3 a.m., and I was out on the loading dock watching bats fly around the floodlights, because I liked being out in the cool night air. The corn was about as high as my shoulder, so about 5' 10". As I was watching the bats, I looked down at the edge of the cornfield. Something was moving there. It was the size of a small child and very, very skinny. Pale, with something that looked like a head of straight, black hair. It moved in a sort of jerky gait, like someone dancing "the robot" badly. It moved in chunks: legs, then hips, then torso, shoulders, neck and finally head. It was looking back into the cornfield, or at least I felt like it was. I felt prickly all over. I didn't know what it was. I thought it was a heron or something at first, but it looked too much like a person. It didn't move like a person, though. Gradually, step by step, it moved toward me. Letting my curiosity better my fear, I moved toward the edge of the dock, which was raised a few feet off the ground. When I got within a few feet of the edge, the thing looked at me. I was paralyzed. I could have run, but I was stuck somewhere between terrified and intrigued. It moved, its "face" still pointed at me. It ratcheted its body in that disconcerting, jerky movement toward the cornfield and went into it. I tried to watch where the field moved as it passed, but the corn remained perfectly still. I noticed that all the crickets were silent. After a few minutes, nothing happened. I stood out there for an hour, but it never came back. I never saw it again.
A very similar story to Dan’s. Close in both detail AND geography. I wonder if anyone listening to our show tonight has had any other encounters of this nature. If so, please drop us a line.
Thank you, Dan.
Our next story comes to us courtesy of a friend. She agreed I could use her story, but to leave her username out.
The salon I work at is truly terrifying
Okay so I've worked at this salon for about a year now. I started last June as a receptionist while I was still going to hair school. To give you an idea of the building, its four separate leases in a fairly old building. The main floor is the store, then behind the reception desk in the store there are stairs that go down to the salon. You go all the way through the salon and you find a cement staircase going up to the top floors, there's a clothing store that's unrelated on the second floor and on the third floor is the spa as well as the corporate office space we use and the staff lounge area. For the first few months I worked there, I never really experienced anything.
So this girl, I used to work with, she quit several months back unrelated to this. But she was telling me some of the shit that goes on, specifically in the spa. This is the first whiff of anything, I've ever heard regarding spooky shit at my work. So there was a new girl starting and she was opening the spa, you enter the spa through the back cement staircase, and the front door that the guests enter through is locked from the inside. So this girl is opening the tills and suddenly she turns and theres a slender pale woman standing there in a red swooping sun hat. She is obviously confused because the front is still locked.. but she looks at the computer screen to see if there's an appointment booked super early and as she's asking the woman what she is here for, she looks back up from the screen. And the red hat woman is GONE. The new girl apparently never came back after that shift. So apparently there is a spa ghost that many people have seen, heard and felt. She wears a red hat.
Since starting I've also began working in the spa. The spa is honestly really old, its also two floors so there is a metal spiral staircase that you can see from the reception desk that goes down to the pedi stations and waxing rooms etc. I often have heard footsteps coming up the stairs only to have noone arrive at the top. The reception desk is also behind a wall so when youre walking to the front from the back rooms you cannot see anything. The spa is not super well renovated so sound carries A LOT. I've also often heard clicks on the keyboard and mouse then rounded the corner and noone is at the desk. Tbh the spa lady seems real chill, I think she's just stuck. She doesn't have a negative presence... none the less she still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. 👀
Now let's move our focus down to the store. I usually work with my coworkehomie and its a common thing for us to be standing behind the desk chatting to one another and we will hear a single footstep behind us on the stairs and you look behind you and noone is there. Honestly just a lot of unexplained noises go on behind us in the staircase.. super unsettling right?
ENTER COVID-19. We were closed for more than 3 months which is the longest the salon/spa has been closed since opening over 30 years ago. We reopened from the virus on May 26th. Before we were actually open all the reception team had to come in to go back through the books and call all the guests that missed appointments due to our closure. So I worked two shifts of calling people back, on the second shift... CHILE. I was working with my manager and this other guy aswell. So anyways we had the salon open while we were in the store because it has the only washroom. So at one point he went downstairs to get something from the printer, I heard something behind me in the stairwell so I turned around thinking he needed a pen or something. At the same time the phone rang. So I wiped around for like 2 seconds then the phone rang so I wiped back around but my manager already picked up the phone. I turned back around to see what he needed and to my astonishment he was way down in the salon at the printer. This confused the fuck out of me because I was sure I saw his face directly behind me. For the rest of my shift I shoved all thoughts of it out of my head. When I got home that evening, the thoughts of what I saw kept coming back. And finally I came to the conclusion I absolutely did not see my coworker's face, he is quite pale and blonde. The man's face I saw was dark, all over just dark. So I drew his face. Needless to say its the scariest thing I've ever drawn. I've attached the photos to my page.
Anyways over the next few days as the salon opens, word traveled real quick of what I saw and what I drew. Until the salon manager comes up to me and starts telling a truly awful story of the son of the architect who had constructed the building. His name was Ryan Jenkins of Calgary, Alberta. His dad the architect was Dan Jenkins of Calgary, Alberta. Now if you wanna fact check me go and Google his name. Anyways tyrns out Ryan had committed a horrific murder in 2009. He had married this woman in California and through a series of events he murdered this woman, and mutilated her body in an effort to have the body unidentifiable. The T is she was identified by her breast implant serial numbers. Anyways so he actually wound up committing suicide the same week he killed her in Hope, British Columbia, in a motel, after he had fled across the border back to Canada.
The motel manager who had found him hanging in his room described it as looking into the devils eyes, and that he would never forget that face.
The salon manager tells me this story and tells me to look him up. To see if I drew his face. I Google his name and I IMMEDIATELY exited the tab. That was the mfing face that I saw. I SWEAR TO GOD.
So the following shift that I go in I'm chanting this in my head that I'm not scared that I'm strong and you can't touch me. I worked alone that day and I heard many unpleasant things behind me, including a hand slapping the security gate that hangs a little low between the salon and the desk. At the end of the night though I mustered up the courage to say goodnight as I was leaving and I heard three LOUD distinct footsteps coming up the stairs and girl I RAN out the door.
Since then my homie/coworker and I have had the printer printing random computer mumbo jumbo that it does often, like random things like hearts and filled in smiley faces and card suits like spades. We often have wondered if its someone trying to communicate. One day we got so many of the weird computer speak print outs and on one page. All in caps. One word. It just read HELP.
So yeah, my work is super haunted I saw a murderers face in the stair well, for some reason he's decided this is a great place to reside since his pasing. And yeah. Super duper cool 🤙🏽
UPDATE:There are actual photos of him in front of the building back in 1990. His dads architecture firm used to reside in the office space that we now also rent.L
I didn't even get into what goes on in the staff room on the top floor. Several people have been up in the staff room after the alarm has been set, over in the office spaces. They've heard doors slamming, voices, light switches clicking and one girl even has heard whistling. I have also experienced something up there where we made it mad. Tbh looking back this was very foolish of us but it was a slow day in the spa and a girl I work with brought tarot cards. I think we stirred up some shit up there, because at the end if the day we are in the staff room chatting. From the hallway, I just heard a plastic container go flying and smack into a wall. Sounded like someone threw it hard. Needless to say we ran.
The other night after work my friend/coworker and I were grabbing a drink across the street from my work at a rooftop patio. We finished work at like 10pm. The sunset was really beautiful so we were looking in the direction of work/the sunset and we just see a hallway light go on, on the top floor. No other offices or other hallway lights came on, it also stayed on until we payed our bill. I wonder if something knew we were looking in that direction.
Our next story comes to us from uncomfortably close to where I currently live. I live on the outskirts of Columbus, OH, and I first saw this story on the TV series “Paranormal Witness,” specifically season 2 episode 10 entitled “The Cabin.” It’s a werewolf story that happened in a town about 20 miles away called London, OH...because if you’re going to have a werewolf, of course it would be in a town named London.
THE CABIN Subject Names: Diane Williams, Keith Williams
Back in 1981, Diane found this lovely little house in the woods, and her family moved in. One night, Diane started hearing little scampering noises outside the house. When she didn't see anything through the window, she dismissed it as just a stray dog or a deer from the woods. Still, something didn't feel right to her. When she looked again, she saw eyes. The eyes were at human eye-level, and they kept following her from one room to the next. When Keith returned home from night school, he took a flashlight out and went investigating. He didn't find anything.
A week or two later, as Diane was doing dishes, she saw the eyes again. This time, they were dangerously close to the window. She backed slowly into another room, and the eyes followed her once again. Diane began turning off the lights in the house, thinking while it might not be able to see her, perhaps she'd be able to see them. When she returned to a window, she saw the form of a person standing there. Diane called the police. As Diane sat in the dark waiting, she could hear the person move from the front of the house to the back. The police searched, but they couldn't find anything.
Four months later, shortly after the first snow, Keith woke early and decided to go get doughnuts for everyone. He started the car and rubbed his eyes. When he looked in the rearview mirror, the eyes were there. Grabbing the flashlight, Keith jumped out of the car and began searching. He froze at the sight of tracks in the snow over the roof. Something was there. Keith called his friend Dennis, asking him to come over and bring his gun. Weapons in tow, Keith and Dennis began following the creature's tracks in the snow. his creature was huge, and had a powerful jump. It definitely wasn't human. They tracked the creature for miles, well after the sun came up. They reached a clearing, and in that clearing was a small cabin. The tracks led right to the back door. Dennis began banging on the walls, yelling for the creature to come out. Realizing how their situation appeared—two guys standing outside a cabin with guns yelling for something to come out—Keith talked Dennis into backing off. Keith called his dad asking him to pick them up. When they explained to Keith's dad what they were doing out there, Keith's dad thought he knew who lived in that cabin: an old man who worked at the tire store.
Dennis showed up the next week with an old tire to be fixed. They would at least get a look at the old man. When the manager of the tire store called the man 'George', they had the man's name. George came out of the shadows to get the tire, and when he locked eyes with Keith and Dennis, they knew it was him. George's eyes were an intense gold. The tire rolled back into the light when George was done with it. The manager put the tire into the back of the truck. When Keith and Dennis looked, there were markings in chalk around part of the tire like they'd never seen before.
Keith hesitated to tell Diane about what was happening. He suggested she ask her sister over whenever he wasn't there.
Three months later, Dennis called Keith and said they were going for a ride. They drove out near George's cabin. Dennis informed him that George had died. They found a deputy sheriff that they knew, who took them to the cabin. "You guys have got to see this." Inside the cabin, they smelled wet dogs. There were no personal items, no food, nothing. Then, the deputy showed them the other room. Behind a door, they found a room with the walls covered in plate steel, held together by riveted metal. Inside were heavy restraint chains, attached to the steel walls. The walls were covered in scratches. Everyone was thinking werewolf, but nobody wanted to say it. That was impossible. After George's death, there were no more sightings at Keith and Diane's home. George was buried in an unmarked grave, and his cabin was demolished.
Such a strange story. If you haven’t seen the Paranormal Witness episode mentioned, I very highly recommend it. You can see it on SyFy On-Demand. It’s season 2 episode 10 entitled “The Cabin.”
Something that sticks out to me about this story is the fact that when George died they buried him somewhere in an unmarked grave. I don’t know why they would do that to anyone. If anyone has any information on why that would happen in a normal environment, please let us know.
London is so close to where I live that I would really like the opportunity to go over there and investigate this. But, it sounds like the local authorities over there would not be very receptive. At one point I was a deputy sheriff here in Ohio, so maybe that could get me some sort of access, but I kind of doubt that.
I wonder how George, in his day-to-day life, explained his eyes. If he were a younger person, you could see people just writing it off as somebody finding themselves or are being expressive in much the same way people dye their hair or get tattoos. But an older guy to have eyes like that that would be so gold as to stick out from a distance, you think he would have to explain that on a fairly regular basis.
That brings us to the end of this episode.
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Until next time: keep it creepy.
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