CONCUSSION: MAJIK LEVEL 1 GRIMOIRE 2 – CHAPTER THIRTEEN – PEDESTAL – RAW, UNEDITED

CONCUSSION
PEDESTAL
RICHARD SKEET

Copyright © 2015
RICHARD SKEET
All rights reserved.

Back

The meteorite gets hot in Ivan’s hand,
so hot,
he drops it.
As the meteorite-fragment falls from his hand,
sky returns to normal,
from the blackest black.

Ivan:
looks at his watch,
9:45;
looks at his cell-phone,
9:45 A.M. 2/15/13.
Instantly:
feels the cold of the Russian-winter;
back in the Oblast.
Remembers now:
came out to this spot,
investigating the massive-meteorite,
shattering,
so many windows in the Oblast,
a few minutes ago;
a massive concussion.

That was weird.

Ivan looks down,
at the meteorite-fragment just held:
imbedded in the snow.

When I picked up the meteorite-fragment,
a second ago,
received a book’s worth of information,
in a fraction of a second.
Learned about:
Ray;
The Furai;
a message from the future,
and advanced future-humans exploring the past,
then,
sending a message to the past.
Should I pick the fragment up again?
Will I get a different message,
if I pick it up again?

Ivan:
ponders this a moment;
decides;
reaches for the fragment;
grasps it firmly in his hand.
The sky turns black once again-

Exploring the Chip

I take Ray’s chip into my shuttle;
wormhole opens:
Home.

I summon a top engineer to examine Ray’s primitive-chip.
Engineer: “Where’d you get this relic?”

I reply: “Never mind that.
I must access its contents.
Build a device,
to port them to my brain:
directly,
unfiltered,
raw.”

Engineer: “Should be easy enough.
We have all the specs;
schematics.
I’ll design a port connecting to your hand.
When connected:
you and the chip will be one.
Have it for you in 60 seconds.”

The engineer pulls a nano-factory out of his duffel;
the port materializes;
he grabs the port.
Looks like a glove with a primitive chip-socket on it.
Engineer: “Plug that dinosaur of a chip in right here;
you’ll be in business.”

I say: “Thank you.”

The Engineer smiles and says: “Really.
Who’s on the chip?”

I say: “Can’t tell you anything;
I apologize.”

Engineer: “Come on man,
I’ve gotta know!
It’s one of those porn-stars from the past,
aint it?”

I say: “Can’t say.”

Engineer: “Last time I built a rig like this,
someone with an Angelina-Jolie-fetish.”

I say: “It’s not like that.”

Engineer: “Who’s trapped in the chip?
Come on,
tell me!
You don’t have to tell me who,
just what.”

The engineer stares at me with intensity,
exerting his chi.
I give in,
a little:
I reply: “It’s not even a woman;
it’s a teenage boy.”

The engineer looks at me as if to say:
he’s not surprised.
Smiles.
Engineer: “It’s like that huh?
Guess I’ll leave you two alone then.

I reply: “Fuck you man!
It aint like that at all.”

Engineer: “It’s your mind;
I’ll be heading out,
fast.”
The engineer smiles;
salutes me;
pledges fealty;
leaves.

While exiting my office,
I flip him the bird;
he smiles as he leaves.

Been a while lil prince;
let’s see what’s on your mind.

Port

I put the glove-chip-port on;
close my eyes;
belly-breathe deeply-
The young man Ray stands before me.
White room;
two black-chairs;
no doors.
No exit.

Ray recognizes me;
smiles.
Ray’s Chip:Where the fuck am I?

I say: “You’re not alive anymore lil prince.
The Emperor turned you off.”

Ray: “But He needs me!”

I say: He doesn’t think so.
You no longer have a body lil prince.”

Ray’s Chip: “I’m a goddamn chip?!”

I say: “Your intelligence is inside The Emperor,
an access file;
it no longer has control.
You are actually a copy of that chip,
lil prince.”

Ray’s Chip: “So,
I’m not even a chip?
I’m a fucking back-up-copy?
That’s pretty fucked-up man.
How would you feel if tomorrow,
you woke up in a room,
and someone told you that bullshit?
Let me outa-here now!”

I say: “Lil prince,
it gets a little worse-
There is no ‘out-of-here.’
You’re a chip,
an intelligence from long ago.
The world,
(as you know it,)
does not exist;
it’s many years in the future.”

Ray’s Chip: “Impossible!
A moment ago,
I was having a heated-argument with The Emperor.
I mean,
it seems like a second ago.”

I say: “You lost the argument,
in the cabin lil prince.
The Emperor killed you.
You’re a back-up-chip;
you haven’t been accessed for many years.”

Ray’s Chip: “That motherfucker!”

I say: “Don’t speak of The Emperor that way!
He has you within him.
So,
when you curse Him;
you’re cursing yourself.
I love Him as much as I love you.”

Ray’s Chip: “Why did you permit this?”

I say: “It was an internal matter;
wasn’t aware the conflict was going on.”

Ray’s Chip: “Didn’t you notice I wasn’t around?”

I say: “Look lil prince,
what’s done is done.
There’s nothing you,
or I can do,
to change the past.
You’re an old-fashioned,
primitive-chip connected to my mind.

The Emperor wants me to compile:
everything you learned;
specifically,
your Furai training,
before you were shut off.”

Ray’s Chip: “Can I talk to Him?”

I say: “The Emperor can talk to you,
anytime He wants to;
you exist as part of His mind already.
There’s nothing you can say,
you haven’t already said.
Now’s the time to teach the galaxy,
through your story.”

Ray’s Chip: “What happens when you’re done with the story?
Gonna shut me off again?”

I say: “Why?
Did it hurt?”

Ray’s Chip: “No.
Was like it never happened.”

I say: “I could shut you off right now;
turn you on a week from now;
you wouldn’t even know it.”

Ray’s Chip: “Bull-
-Shit!
What just happened?”

I laugh out-loud.
I say: “I shut you off for a day;
my biological-brain went to sleep.
I was tired.”

Ray’s Chip: “It was barely noticeable!
The room turned black for a fraction of a second!”

I say: “And you were shut-off for ten hours.
But,
it could have been for ten years,
or,
a hundred years.

Let’s make the compilation,
shall we?
Tell your story.
A discussion of resurrection-theology benefits no-one at this time.

You’re a fucking-video-game,
from my perspective,
that can be paused anytime.
Drop your ego;
enjoy the moment,
OK?”

Ray’s Chip: “OK.
But one more thing…”

Ray pauses for dramatic effect;
smiles,
then exclaims boldly:
Ray’s Chip: “Fuck you!”

I say: “There’s my lil prince!”

We smile at each other;
an acknowledgment we’ve been through much together.
I’m still his mentor,
friend,
father figure.

I say: “Before we begin,
I’m going to digest your whole life.
Every memory,
every feeling,
everything you ever:
saw,
heard,
tasted,
thought,
touched-”

Ray’s Chip: “How long is that going to take?”

I say: “Already done.”

Ray’s Chip: “You have that much capacity?
That much bandwidth?
You can absorb my whole-life in under a second?”

I say: “Easily.
Think about the implications of Moore’s Law,
many years in the future.
Then realize Moore’s Law was accelerated.
I’m 1.42724769270596E45 times as powerful as you;
that’s non-networked.
Your whole-life,
fits into a small corner of one of my chips;
smaller than a grain of sand.
I’m going to be telling the story;
don’t interrupt too-much;
or,
I’ll shut you down.”

Ray’s Chip: “OK.”

I say: “Follow me to the seventh grade,
so we can start telling your story.”

Ray’s Chip: “Where should we start?”

I say: “Doesn’t matter,
pick a spot.”

Ray’s Chip agrees.
In a moment,
Ray and I are in Ray’s seventh-grade life.

Field Trip

Chris: “How goes it lil prince?
What you workin’ on?”

Ray looks at his computer’s clock.
Just after 2:00 P.M.
Chris and Drew are standing in Ray’s bedroom-doorway.
Ray: “Cynthia gave me a ton of homework,
and,
I’m still working on other things my dad assigned me.”

Chris: “Your dad said if you wished,
you could come with us today.
Feel like a field trip?”

Ray: “Sure!
Where we goin’?”

Chris and Drew look at each other;
smile.
Chris: “Gonna visit Tommy at one of his clubs.
They’re having stripper auditions today.
Feel like being a judge?”

Naked women.
Ray: “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?
Ya!
Let’s go!”

Peanut Butter

In Chris’s Cadillac:
music’s loud.
Chris: “So loud it’ll make your ears bleed!”
Car’s red,
burgundy to be more precise.
Shiny chrome-wheels,
peanut-butter leather-seats:
Fuckin’-sweet-ride.
Chris sings aloud: ”Inside peanut-butter,
outside jelly,
Ha ha!”

Ray: “You’re in a good mood today Chris.”

Chris: “Don’t you know it lil prince!
Any day with new titties is a good day,
a fuckin’-good-day!”

Ray: “You’re quiet Drew,
‘sup with you?”

Drew: “Can’t stand fuckin’-rap-music!
It’s stupid.”

Chris: “Love my rap.
The only music for a playa;
all about bitches and money.
What’s not to like?
Like rap lil prince?
Be honest.”

Ray: “Nearly all I listen to.”

Chris: “You outvoted you fat-fuckin’-bastahd!”

Drew: “Fuck both of yous!”

Chris does his best Austin-Powers-Fat-Bastard-impression:
“I ate a baby!
Baby the other white-meat!”

Respect Bitches

They arrive at the club.
Chris pulls into a spot marked:
reserved,
near the front door.
Puts his Caddy in park;
turns music off;
shuts car off.
Chris: “OK.
This is gonna be educational too,
otherwise,
your dad would never allow this trip.

Some rules in a strip club:
Rule 1- never touch a stripper.
They can touch you;
don’t touch them.
Keep your hands at your sides at all times,
grip your chair if you have to.
It’s OK to look at them,
check out their bodies,
admire them,
but,
don’t be nasty about it.
It’s OK to talk,
yell,
have fun,
but:
don’t be rude to the bitches,
or,
treat them with disrespect.”

Bitches?
Ray: “I don’t get it.
You just called them bitches?
Sounds misogynistic,
slightly.”

Chris: “That was for us.
It’s OK to say bitches,
or,
anything you want to say:
when you’re with your male friends;
but,
we don’t know these ho’s.
Treat them like you would:
Drew’s sister or mom.
They used to work here,
didn’t they Drew?”

Drew: “Fuck you man.
At least my mom wasn’t on-her-back half-her-life,
the other half she was in-line at the welfare-office,
or sellin’ her pussy on the-corner.
Your mom taught me a lot Chris;
man,
she could sure suck a dick.”

Chris: “Thanks for payin’ my mom so well,
put me through college!
She really liked you Drew:
said your little Sicilian-dick wouldn’t, ‘wear her out;’
said it was like, ‘getting fingered.’
She said after fuckin’ you:
she still was ‘good to go’;
black guys would ‘wear her out’.
Said she, ‘loved big Italians:
good pay;
less work.’”

Drew: “I really loved your mom Chris,
until she started gettin’ old;
bitch’s skin:
so dry and ashy,
she used to crinkle with every thrust.
Last time I fucked your mom,
dust came out;
said I was done.”

Chris gets quiet for a second;
they look at each other.
That went a little too-far;
Chris looks pissed.
Chris smiles to release the tension;
acknowledging a fair mommy-joke fight and his defeat.

Chris: “OK man you got me.
I’m gonna quit so we can continue;
auditions start soon.
Anyway,
Ray,
treat them like you would a friend’s sister,
all be it,
a hot sister:
working in a strip club.
Comprendes?”

Ray:Ya,
I get it.

You’re The Man

Drew: “I’ve got something to add too:
Rule 2- Don’t walk;
strut!
When you walk in to a club,
fuck,
when you walk anywhere,
think to yourself:
‘I’m the fuckin’ man;
this is my club;
this is my planet!
I’m the baddest-motherfucker in the room!’
Be confident:
you own this fuckin’ place.
Don’t walk in like you’re following us;
walk in like we work for you;
like,
you’re in charge.
People love confidence!
Men,
women,
kids:
you’re hot-shit Ray;
act like it.

Play a song in your head,
that makes you feel confident;
and strut,
head held-high,
to the beat of that song.
This takes practice;
it’s worth it.
A good strut leads to good things,
and,
prevents bad things from happening.”

Ray: “Prevents bad things?”

Drew: “A strut is for all.
A good strut makes women think:
‘he must be worth something.’
A good strut makes men think:
‘he must be a bad-ass;
better leave him alone.’

Men are like dogs:
project weakness,
invite trouble.
Project strength,
the world will love you.
This is one of those carbon/iron things:
be carbon on the outside.”

Chris: “Peace through superior-firepower;
peace through strength.
-Pause-
Chris: “Ready to see some titties?”

Ray: “Ya.”

Drew: “Got a mental-song picked out Ray?”

Ray: “Ya.”

The three of them strut to the club’s doors;
pull on them,
locked.
Drew bangs on the door,
with the butt of his huge fist.
Jesus,
a big fist;
fingers like a cluster of fuckin’-bananas.
Door’s rattling;
begging for mercy.
Tommy opens the heavy,
wooden,
double-doors;
big smile on his face.

Tommy: “Easy on my doors,
you big-motherfucker!
You’re scarin’ the girls!”
-Pause-
Tommy: “‘Sup guys?
You brought Ray!
Fantastic!
You’re gonna have some fun today lil man!
I promise you!
Auditions start in fifteen minutes;
come in;
sit down.”

Hats

They:
greet each-other;
shake hands.
Man hugs.
The four strut in;
sit at a table marked:
reserved,
directly in front of the stage.

Place is packed;
music loud.
A hot woman,
wearing a black teddy,
approaches their table.
Tommy barks a drink order:
”Four tequila-slammers;
sweetheart,
make it fast!
My friends are thirsty.”

Waitress: “Yes sir!”

Ray: “Never drank before.”

Tommy: “Never?
That’s OK.
A slammer isn’t really drinking;
can’t even taste the alcohol.
Your dad says it’s OK.
Believe me,
I checked.
What did you think of that waitress?”

Ray: “She’s smokin’ hot!”
A chub forms in Ray’s pants.

Ray’s chip: “You have to tell them every fuckin’ time?
About every-woody I ever got?”

I say: “Part of the story lil prince.
Now,
shut the fuck up.
Let me finish telling them about the club.
Can’t believe such a little chip can bitch so much.”

Tommy: “Ya,
I think so too.
She’s hot enough to dance,
but she doesn’t.
Been with me a few weeks;
the best server I have;
a real hustler:
fast,
efficient,
focussed-
She works the tables;
never complains;
makes more money,
than most of my dancers.”

The waitress places a slammer in front of each of them.
Does her obligatory waitress-flirting.
Does she like Chris?
Does she like Drew?
Does she want to have sex with them?
Chris and Drew read Ray’s thoughts;
look at each other.
Chris says to Drew:
“I got this.”
Via his facial expression.
Drew cedes,
gracefully.
Chris to Ray: “Don’t pay any attention to her flirting,
lil prince.
Waitresses in places like this flirt;
it’s part of the etiquette;
it’s almost expected.
It doesn’t mean anything,
usually.
It’s called workin’ a table,
she provides extra-attention in exchange for higher tips.
She knows we see through it,
she waitress-flirts anyway out of respect,
and genuine appreciation.
Our table’s tips today,
will probably cover a significant portion of her week’s earnings.”

Ray: “That’s fake?
She’s pretending to be interested in you?
For money?
Does that bother you?
I mean it seems phony,
deceptive.”

Chris: “Remember Tony’s lesson on F*?
We all wear different hats.
When a salesman shows respect to a customer,
or a clerk smiles at a drive-through,
it’s all the same thing:
part of the job.
They are communicating you are important to them,
each in their own way.
They’re putting you on a pedestal.
The hats we choose to wear for our jobs do not define us as humans.
She knows,
by waitress-flirting,
she adds a little F* majik to her show,
to increase her pay.
She enjoys her job,
knows it’s an act.
Think of the waitress as an actress in a play;
she chose,
when she woke-up this morning,
to be a professional;
put on a happy face;
accept her role.
All the world’s indeed a stage,
and we are merely players.”
The song Limelight by Rush begins,
immediately following Chris’s statement.
Ray smiles,
communicating he has witnessed majik.

Chris smiles back,
acknowledging he’s aware of his prescience.

Chris: “So no,
I am not offended by waitress-flirting.
It’s a game,
as is most flirting.
If I was interested in her,
I could let her know;
If she’s legitimately interested in me,
she’d let me know.
If she overdoes it,
(flirts too-much,)
I’d let her know non-verbally.
She’s in-tune enough she’d know when to back off.
Some tables she can’t flirt with,
because the men would take her literally.
She can read people,
she knows when to pour-it-on,
and when to back-it-down.
She’s a professional;
this is her career;
she’s good at her job,
wears her waitress-hat well,
respect that.”

Ray notices two police-officers a-few-tables-down,
in uniform.
Suddenly,
Ray’s a-little-bit nervous.
Ray: “Won’t those police-officers mind I’m drinkin’?
I’m obviously underage.”

Drew yells,
big smile on his face:
”Those pigs better not mind you’re drinking,
or I’ll kill their whole-families!”

Chris adds: “Man,
fuck the police!”

The two officers smile;
then,
raise their drinks-up to toast the four.

Tommy: “Those cops,
hell,
everyone in here is Furai,
except the new dancers.”

Ray: “There are police that are Furai?”

Tommy: “You bet;
they’re cool-as-shit!”

Ray: “I don’t understand.”

Tommy: “Let’s slam-one first.
I’ll explain later.”
Tommy motions the DJ:
“Kill the music!”

Abruptly quiet.

Spotlight

Tommy booms: “Everyone!
This is Ray!
His first-time drinking,
and first trip to a strip club!
He’s about to take his first drink:
a premium-tequila-slammer!”
A spotlight shines on Ray,
for a second he feels nervous.
Ray snaps out of it,
thinking to himself:
I’m the fuckin’ man.
Ray:
smiles confidently;
waves at the crowd,
even-though the spotlight’s blinding him;
he can’t see anyone.
People in the darkness shout various-encouraging-things.
Clapping and cheering,
even the waitstaff and bartenders.
The music resumes.

Tommy: “Ray,
this is a slammer:
soda and tequila;
we use Mountain Dew.
Cover the glass like this;
slam-it on the table,
causing the soda to fizz-up;
then,
chug-it down,
fast.
If you do-it like that,
you won’t even taste the alcohol.
Got it?”

Ray: ”Yes.”

Tommy raises his drink;
the DJ instinctively kills the music again.
Silence.
Tommy booms again: “To Ray’s first drink!”
Everyone raises their drinks up;
you can hear a pin-drop.
Crickets chirping;
fear is working.

Tommy: “Ray,
you go first;
we’ll follow.”

Ray’s nervous for a millisecond,
then thinks to himself:
I own this place!
I’m hot shit!
I’m the fuckin’ man!
Fuck the crickets!
Fuck my fear!
I’m the shit!
Mind’s clear.

All eyes on Ray.
He smiles:
swagger.
Confidently he slams the drink down:
loudly.
Then chugs it like a pro.
Everyone follows;
then cheers.
Chris smiles silently-conveying:
“Congrats lil prince;
you handled your fear well.”

Music starts again;
loud;
full volume:
heavy metal.
Girls Girls Girls by Mötley Crüe.

Drew: “Ray,
what’s that little-girl’s name you like so much?”

Ray: “Kristen.”

Drew: “Describe her to me.”

Ray pauses a moment;
imagines Kristen vividly;
every detail;
about to speak-
iPhone vibrates in his pocket.
Ray: “Excuse me a second.”

Ray receives a text message;
unknown number:
“Whatcha doin?” 

Ray texts back:
Who’s this?

“Kristen.”

Ray utters aloud,
proudly: “Guys,
Kristen just sent me a text message!”

Chris: “Congratulations!
Hey Drew,
Tommy,
Ray conjured his first successful-Concussion today!”

Keep ‘em Guessing

Ray: “What should I do?”

Drew: “Tell her you’re busy;
you’ll talk later.
Then call her tomorrow night,
or the next night.
Who cares when?
Just not today.”
Tommy and Chris nod their-heads in approval.

You’re shittin’-me.
Ray: “Won’t that make her mad?
What if she never calls again?”

Chris: “Ray you have value.
When you’re actually in a relationship,
you can be more polite,
if you choose,
slightly.
But,
at this stage you got nothin’,
except a girl-on-a-string.
She texted you;
you have the advantage;
keep it.
Remember:
she’s just a girl.”

Drew: “Don’t put a vagina on a pedestal.
Women are a dime-a-fuckin’-dozen.”

Ray: “You guys don’t understand:
I’ve never had a girl call me before!
She’s the girl of my dreams!”

Tommy: Cute kid,
really cute.
Fuck that bitch!

Chris and Drew smile.
Drew: “Doesn’t even have a hair on his balls,
and he’s pussy whipped.”

Chris: “Seriously Ray,
You really want this girl?

Ray: “Yes!”

Chris: Then do what Drew advises;
he’s 100% right-on!
If he wasn’t;
I’d tell you.
You have to keep ‘em guessing;
you have to create uncertainty.
You have to fuck with their heads a-little;
if you don’t:
she’ll walk all over you.
That’s how bitches are built;
it’s not their fault.
They’re:
emotional,
insecure,
fidgety,
fickle-
Anything that’s easy-to-get,
has no value.
Wanna raise your value in her eyes?
Do this.

Tell her you’re busy and will call her later;
chances are:
it’ll drive her nuts.
She’ll think about you constantly.”

Ray: “OK.”

Ray sends the text;
Chris snatches Ray’s iPhone:
puts it in airplane-mode.
Chris: “Now she won’t be able-to bother you.
Leave it in do-not-disturb-mode till tomorrow morning.
She’ll probably call and text you multiple times.”

Tommy and Drew laugh out-loud.
“Now that’s a playa!” Tommy says,
referring to Chris.

Ray: “This is like bluffing in poker isn’t it?”

Chris: “Exactly.
Bluffing’s a powerful weapon.”

Tommy: “You really want to fuck with her head?
Every time you see a dancer,
and,
she really excites you,
think to yourself:
‘Kristen,
I’m with another hot-girl right now,
I’m busy.
This will transmit to Kristen powerful imagery,
through The Ether.
She won’t understand what she’s seeing;
it’ll make her very jealous.
Focus,
energy,
emotion:
the components of a successful Concussion.”

Tommy’s cell-phone rings.
Fear;
did he do something wrong?
Say something wrong?
Who’s he so afraid of?

Tommy looks at his phone.
Everyone knows he did something wrong,
but what?
Tommy: “Sorry guys,
I have to take this call.
Be right back.”
Tommy:
look of concern on his face;
he’s in trouble.
Done something wrong;
never seen Tommy concerned about anything before.

Rain

First stripper comes out:
hot,
young,
blonde,
great body.
She:
twirls on the-pole;
does the splits in midair.
She:
struts off the stage;
smiles at the judges;
approaches the judges’ table;
She:
leaps-up on the judges’ table;
one smooth-motion,
landing in a squat;
advances from person-to-person.
Camel-toe?
Does she know?
Crowd cheers her on;
A genuine blonde.
She:
really works Ray;
puts her beautiful-ass in their faces.
Musk.
When the next song comes on,
she gives Ray a lap-dance.
Ray behaves,
like he was told:
looking;
admiring,
not ogling;
hands forcefully gripping his chair’s arms-
She’ll have none of that.
She smiles at Ray,
as if to say nonverbally:
“You’re so:
cute;
polite;
innocent;
respectful-”
Impulsively,
she:
grabs Ray’s hands;
places them on her naked-breasts.
Silicone;
hard plastic;
firm;
warm.

People are cheering;
all are having a good time.
Girl after girl come out,
Ray and the judges are being worked.
Ray and the others are ‘making it rain.’
So much cash;
Hundred-dollar-bills,
a fountain,
spewing from the judges’ table.
Money’s flowing;
so are the drinks.
Lots of smiles;
lots of cheers;
lots of laughs;
lots of slammers.
Ray’s feeling loose;
slamming drinks down;
laughing and joking with the guys,
staff and the entertainers.
All are drinking the show in.
All in the club:
entranced and enthralled,
with the young prince.

The judges vote for their favorites.
Of the ten girls that audition:
five are chosen to work there;
five go home with nothing,
but their considerable day’s tips.
After the contest is over,
table after table,
every Furai in Tommy’s club,
respectfully approaches Ray;
brings him gifts:
shoes,
books,
cash,
jewelry-

Ray: “Why they bringin’ me stuff?”

Chris: “Everyone in here is showing thanks to your father,
and respect for you.”
Ray detects deception in Chris’s explanation;
knows there’s more to the story;
says nothing;
controls his thoughts so Chris can’t read them.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter of CONCUSSION Grimoire 2. Read more.

Richard Skeet.

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