Karen/Chip Plankton II Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Karen/Chip Plankton II Emojis & Symbols

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iv (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's face was now slack with sleep. Karen moved silently, not wanting to disturb him. She knew how important this time was, how much he needed it. The house felt heavier with quiet, but Chip's door was open a crack, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. Karen peeked in. He looked up, seeing her in the doorway. "Mom?" his voice was small, his screen searching hers. Karen walked over, sitting beside him on his bed. "Yes, Chip?" He looked up at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "Is Dad okay?" Karen took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "He will be, sweetie. Sometimes, people with disabilities have moments like this. It's part of who he is." Chip nodded, his throat tight. "But why's he..." Karen pulled him into a warm embrace. "It's okay to feel scared or confused. But remember, Dad's still in there. He loves you so much, and he's doing his best." Chip nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. "Does he know when it happens?" Karen's gaze remained steady. "Sometimes he does, sweetie. It's like when you get tired and need a nap. His brain just needs to recharge." Chip thought about that for a moment, his thumb playing with a loose thread on his blanket. "Does he remember what happens?" Karen's hand stilled on his back. "It's like a dream, Chip. Sometimes he remembers snippets, sometimes it's all a blur." Chip sat up, his eyes bright with questions. "Does he see us when he's like that?" Karen shrugs. "He might feel us, but his brain isn't fully here." Chip's mind raced with questions. "Mom, how did Dad get this... this... brain thing?" his voice cracked. Karen took a deep breath, her hand still warm on his back. "Well, sweetie, it's something he was born with. It's called autism, and it's a part of him." Chip's eyes widened. "But why? Did he do something wrong?" Karen sighed, her grip tightening around him. "No, Chip, it's not like that. It's just how his brain was made. Some people have different brain wiring, and that's okay. But in his specific circumstance, he was born posthumously, after his mum passed away.." Chip's eyes grew wider still, his curiosity piqued. "But, what? How..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. Karen took a deep breath, preparing herself for the explanation she had never thought she'd have to give. "Your dad's mum, she had him after she... passed away," she said, her voice gentle. Chip's eyes grew as big as saucers. "What do you mean, 'after she passed away'?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen took a moment, swallowing hard. "Well, sweetie, you know how babies are usually born when their mommies are alive and well, right?" Chip nodded, his eyes fixed on her face. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But how's that even physically possible?" Karen took a deep breath. "It's a rare procedure, Chip. When his mum was very sick, the doctors did everything they could to save her. But when she passed away, they realized his heart was still beating inside her." Chip's eyes were wide with horror and fascination. "But how did they get him out?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen's eyes grew misty as she recounted the story, her voice soft and gentle. "They performed an emergency procedure called a post-mortem 'coffin birth'. It's very rare, Chip." Chip's eyes were like dinner plates, his mind trying to grasp the concept. "But how?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. Karen took a moment to collect her thoughts, the story weighing heavily on her. "The doctors had to be very quick and careful, Chip. They knew Plankton had a chance, so they did what they could to save him. It was a miracle he made it out alive," she said, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of sadness. "Yet, because of the way he was born, his brain developed differently. That's what caused his autism. His brain was deprived of oxygen for a short time, which can lead to such conditions." Chip's hand went to his chest, his heart racing with the realization. "But does that mean he's... not like other dads?" Karen wrapped her arms around her son, holding him close. "Chip, your dad is unique, just like you. And yes, his brain works differently, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less. He might just show it in his own way." Chip sniffled, trying to make sense of everything. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked. Karen stroked his back, her heart heavy. "Because, sweetie, it's a hard thing to explain. And we didn't want to scare you or make you feel different about him. We wanted you to understand his quirks as part of who he is, not because of some label. And he's a good dad in his own way, even if he doesn't show it like other dads. Yet he also has his challenges, like with his sensory issues." Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing with the new information. He had noticed how his dad sometimes flinched at loud noises or avoided crowded places.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vi (By NeuroFabulous) They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the only sound being Plankton's even breathing. Then Chip spoke up, his voice tentative. "Mom, can you tell me more about autism?" Karen nodded, her hand still resting on Plankton's arm. "Autism is a spectrum, Chip. It means that no two people experience it the same way. Some have a harder time with it than others. For your dad, it's mostly about his senses. They can get overwhelmed easily." Chip leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, 'overwhelmed'?" Karen took a moment to gather her thoughts. "It's like his brain can't filter out the extra information." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering above Plankton's antennae. Karen's hand shot out, her grip on Chip's wrist firm but not painful. "Remember, sweetie, his senses are heightened." Chip's hand froze, his fingers curling slightly. "Does that mean he doesn't like to be touched?" he asked, his voice quivering. Karen's grip loosened, her eyes meeting Chip's. "It's more that certain touches can be too much for his brain to handle." Chip nodded, his gaze still on Plankton's antennae. "But what if I just..." his voice trailed off, his hand hovering. Karen's eyes searched his, understanding dawning. "If you want to touch him, Chip, do it gently. Use the back of your hand, like this." She demonstrated, her hand gliding softly over his antennae. "It's like you're saying 'hello' without disturbing him." Chip nodded, his hand trembling slightly. He mimicked her movements, his touch as light as a feather. Plankton's antennae quivered under his touch, but he remained asleep. Karen gave him a small smile of encouragement. "Mom, does he like it when I touch him like this?" Chip asked, his voice filled with hope. Karen watched her son, his hand hovering over Plankton's antennas with such care. "It depends," she said, her voice soft. "Sometimes, it can be soothing for him. Other times, it can be too much." Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father. "But how will I know?" he whispered, his voice filled with concern. Karen's eyes searched his, understanding his desire to connect. "You'll have to watch him, Chip. Look for signs. If he tenses up or pulls away, that's his way of saying 'stop'. And if he seems calmer or his breathing slows, that's his way of saying 'ok'. It's about reading his body language." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over Plankton's antennas. He took a deep breath, and then, as gently as he could, he let the back of his hand graze the antennae. Plankton's body remained still, yet his antennae twitched slightly. Karen gave a nod of approval. "Remember, Chip, everyone's touch is different to him," she said. "Some days, he might not even want to be touched." Chip nodded solemnly, his hand hovering over his father's antennae. "Does he like it when I hug him?" he whispered. Karen's smile grew. "His favorite person to be touched by is me. But even with me, he has his limits. Sometimes, he just needs his space." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "Does he like it when other people touch him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes searched his, knowing this was a delicate topic. "Well, Chip, it's different with everyone. Some days, your dad can tolerate more than others. But generally, it's people he's comfortable with, like me." "But what about me?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly. Karen's smile was sad. "It's going to take some time, Chip. You'll have to learn his signals, his boundaries.." Plankton's body began to stir, his antennae twitching more frequently as he shifted in his sleep. Chip watched, his hand hovering over his dad's head, unsure if he should risk disturbing him. Karen's eyes followed the movement, her gaze filled with a quiet sadness. "It's okay, Chip," she whispered. "He's just waking up." Plankton's antennae twitched again, more quickly now. His eye flickered open, his pupil expanding as he adjusted to the dim light. He looked around, his gaze landing on Karen and Chip. "Hey, buddy," Karen whispered, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. Plankton's eye focused on Chip, who was staring at him with a mix of fear and fascination. He knew that look, had seen it in others' eyes before. But coming from his son, it hit him harder than he'd ever expected. He took a deep breath, his body still feeling like he'd run a marathon. "Hi," he said, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip's hand jerked back, his heart racing. "Dad," he whispered, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae twitched again, this time in acknowledgment. "Hi, Chip," he rasped, his voice sounding neutral. Chip stared, his thoughts racing. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to say, but the words got caught in his throat. Plankton looked at his son, his antennae drooping. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken worries and fears. He took another deep breath, his body still feeling the toll. "How are you feeling, Plankton?" Karen's voice was a gentle caress in the silence. He swallowed, his throat dry from his ordeal. "Tired," he murmured, his antennae twitching slightly. "But better." Karen's hand found his again, her touch a lifeline. "Do you remember what happened?" she asked gently. Plankton's antennae drooped. "I... I think so," he murmured, his voice still shaky. "I had a... a shutdown, with Chip." Chip's eyes widened, his heart racing. He'd never heard his dad talk about his episodes before. It was like a door had been opened to a part of Plankton's life that had always remained closed to him. "It's okay, Dad," he whispered, his hand reaching out tentatively. "You can tell me." His hand barely grazed Plankton's arm... Plankton flinched at the touch, his antennae twitching erratically. Chip's heart skipped a beat, his hand retreating as if burned. Karen offered a gentle smile, her gaze meeting Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said softly. "Chip's just trying to understand." Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae slowly calming. "I know," he murmured. "I, I'm s-sorry." Karen's hand tightened on his, her eyes never leaving his face. "Don't apologize, love," she whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong." Plankton nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He knew she was right, but the fear of losing his respect was palpable. His antennae twitched again, the overstimulation of the day still lingering.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS v (By NeuroFabulous) "You know how sometimes, Dad gets overwhelmed with too much going on around him?" Karen began, her voice gentle. "It's because his brain processes things differently. He's sensitive to sounds, lights, even touch. That's why he can seem a bit... reserved, other than the fact that he's just shy about it." Chip nodded, his mind still racing with questions. "But why's he shy about it?" Karen took a deep breath, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "Because, Chip, your dad's always been self-conscious. He's aware of how he's different, and sometimes, he just needs his space." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving his mother's face. "Does he ever get mad about it?" Karen's gaze was steady, her voice gentle. "Sometimes, Chip. But it's not at you. It's his way of dealing with the overstimulation." Chip nodded, his curiosity morphing into understanding. "So, his brain needs a time-out?" Karen nodded, her voice soft. "In a way, yes. It's his body's way of telling him to slow down and take a break. Sometimes, when things get too much for him, he just needs to be alone, without any noise or distraction." Chip looked at his mother, his eyes brimming with emotion. "But what about when he has these... episodes? Will he always be like this?" Karen squeezed his hand, her gaze never leaving his. "Sweetie, we can't predict the future, but we can help him. He's gotten better at managing his overstimulation over the years, but sometimes it still happens. It's part of who he is." Chip nodded, his mind still racing. He looked towards the door, his curiosity about his father's condition growing. He wanted to check on him, to make sure he was okay. With Karen by his side, they tiptoed into the dimly lit room. Plankton was now fast asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly beneath the covers. The room was silent except for the steady rhythm of his breathing. Chip felt a pang of sympathy for his father, his mind still racing with questions about the condition he had just learned of. He studied Plankton's face, now peaceful in slumber. His antennae lay flat against his pillow, no longer twitching with the stress of the shutdown. Karen put a finger to her lips, reminding Chip to be quiet as they approached the bed. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face finally relaxed, free from the tension that had held him captive earlier. The room was dim, the only light coming from the hallway. Karen watched her son studying his father, her heart swelling with pride. Chip was growing up so fast, and now he was facing something so complex. She knew he was strong enough to handle it, though. They stood there in silent vigil for a moment, until Chip finally whispered, "Can I talk to him?" Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "Just keep your voice low," she advised. Chip leaned over, his whisper a gentle breeze. "Dad, I'm here," he murmured. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained asleep. Karen's hand rested on Chip's shoulder, guiding him to sit in a chair beside the bed. Chip's eyes remained fixed on his father, his mind racing with questions and fears. Yet, there was also a newfound respect for Plankton's silent battles. He watched his chest rise and fall, the steady beat of his heart a testament to his resilience. "What do we do now?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes never left Plankton's sleeping form. "We give him time," she said, her voice soothing. "And when he wakes from his nap, we'll be here."
(Autistic author) Plankton has autism, which only he and Karen know about. They're able to keep it a secret, per Plankton's request, even from their son Chip. So when Chip comes home early from football, he's surprised to see his dad staring at the blank wall as his mom rubs his back. "Is everything okay?" he asks, stepping into the room. Plankton's eye is unfocused, his body rigid, like he's stuck in some invisible vice. Karen's hand pauses on his shoulder, and she turns to face Chip, her smile forced. "Yeah, just a little...spell," she says. Plankton's absence seizure has struck without warning. It's like a silent storm passing through the room, leaving no trace except the vacant look in his eye. The room seems to shrink around them as Chip takes in his dad's unblinking stare. He's never seen this. "Should I get help?" Chip's voice cracks. Karen shakes her head quickly, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "No, it's fine. Just...give us a minute." She waves a hand, trying to dismiss the concern that has etched itself on Chip's features. But Chip lingers, his gaze flickering between his parents. "What's happening?" he whispers. Karen sighs, her hand dropping to her side. She looks at Plankton. "It's just something your dad has," she says, choosing her words carefully. "It's like his brain goes on pause for a bit." Chip watches as his dad's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the only indication that he's still present in the physical world. "But what do you mean?" his eyes search hers for understanding. Karen's eyes flit to Plankton before returning to Chip's. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself. "It's not dangerous, just a little scary-looking." The silence stretches until it feels like a rubber band about to snap. Chip's curiosity overpowers his fear. He takes a tentative step closer. "Does he know we're here?" Chip whispers. "Not really," Karen murmurs, "But he'll come back to us." Chip reaches out, a tremor in his fingertips, and touches Plankton's arm, but the seizure doesn't seem to notice. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice a soft echo in the stillness. Plankton's body remains stiff as a statue, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere beyond the wallpaper's pattern. Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's okay," she whispers back, "It's part of him. Don't poke or shake him, just let it pass." The seconds tick by, each one feeling heavier than the last. Chip's heart thuds in his chest, his mind racing with questions and fear. He's never seen his dad like this before, so...so vulnerable. As the seizure slowly releases its grip, Plankton blinks, his eye refocusing on the room. He looks confused, like he's waking from a deep sleep. Karen's smile relaxes, the tension in her shoulders easing. Plankton turns to her, his gaze flickering with recognition before falling on Chip. "Chip?" His voice is raspy. Karen nods at Chip, silently urging him to speak. "Yeah, Dad, it's me." Plankton's expression shifts. "What...what happened?" his voice is frail. Chip opens his mouth, but Karen steps in quickly. "You had a little moment, that's all. Nothing to worry about," she says, her tone light. But her hand is still on Plankton's back, ready to provide support if needed. Plankton's eye darts around, his hands clenching and unclenching as if trying to remember how to interact with the world again. He notices Chip's hand reaching out and flinches slightly, his discomfort with physical contact clear. Chip, sensing this, pulls his hand back, his cheeks flushing. He's always known his dad was a bit...different. Quirky. But he's never seen this side of him. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing as she squeezes Plankton's hand. "You're okay." Plankton nods, his mind slowly untangling from the cotton wool fog of the seizure. He looks around the room, familiar objects snapping back into focus. His eye lands on Chip, who's watching him with a mix of worry and curiosity. He clears his throat. "Just a...moment. I'm fine now." He tries to smile, but it feels awkward and forced. Chip's eyes don't leave him. "What was that?" he asks, his voice still low. Karen looks at Plankton. It's time. "Your dad has something called autism, Chip," she says. "It's like his brain works in a special way." Chip's eyes widen. "What does that mean?" Karen sits down beside Plankton, who's still gathering himself. "It's like...sometimes, his brain takes a little break from the world," she explains gently, her hand still on his shoulder. "It can be overwhelming, with all the sounds, sights, and people around." Chip nods slowly, trying to grasp the concept. Plankton swallows hard, his mind racing. He's always been so careful to hide this part of himself, not wanting to be seen as less than or weird. But as he looks at Chip, his heart swells with a mix of fear and hope. What if his son can't understand? What if this changes everything? Karen gives him a nod, encouraging him to go on. With a deep breath, Plankton starts to speak. "You know how sometimes you get really focused on something and the world just fades away?" Chip nods. "Well, for me, it's like that," Plankton says, his voice steadying. "But sometimes, my brain does it without me asking. It's like my thoughts are a TV with too many channels playing at once, and it just...shuts off for a bit to give me a break." Chip nods, trying to imagine what that's like. "Does it hurt?" Plankton shakes his head. "Well, it's just...different. Sometimes I don't realize, sometimes it's tough." Chip looks up at him, his eyes full of questions and a nascent empathy. "Can you control..." "No Chip, I can't 'control' it!" He snaps back. "Hey hey, it's okay," Karen whispers, meeting his gaze. "He's not judging you, Plankton." Plankton takes a deep breath, his eye fluttering shut. "I know," he murmurs, but his tone is anything but convinced. Chip's gaze softens, his fear replaced with a determined curiosity. "What's it like?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "It's like being in a little bubble," he says, his eye distant. "Everything's far away, muffled. And when it's over, it's like...like popping back into reality." Chip's curiosity grows, his mind racing with questions. "But why do you keep it a secret?" he asks, his voice tentative. Karen looks to Plankton, who's still visibly shaken. "We didn't want it to define you," she says softly. "We wanted you to see him as just your dad, not as someone with a label." Plankton nods. "And I didn't want to be different," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip considers this, his gaze flitting from his dad to the ground. "But you are," he says, his voice earnest. "You're my dad, even with your..." He stumbles over the word "...seizures." Karen's eyes fill with pride at her son's acceptance. Plankton's tension how ever, heightens at Chip's description. "It's not a seizure," he corrects, his voice slightly defensive. Chip looks confused. "But it looks like it," he says, frowning. Karen nods. "It's similar, but not the same," she explains before Plankton can interject. "It's part of your dad's autism." Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching for something he's never noticed before. "But why did you keep it a secret?" he asks again. Plankton's gaze drifts to the floor, his voice soft. "Because people can be cruel, son," he says, his words heavy. "They don't always understand." Chip nods, his eyes welling up with tears. "But I do," he says, his voice shaking. "I mean, I don't get it all, but I understand that you're still you." Plankton's expression softens, his fear of rejection dissipating slightly. He looks up at Karen, his gaze filled with gratitude. She gives him a small smile, her eyes telling him it's okay to be his true self.
pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
AI Story Generator
completely free, NO signup required (ever), and unlimited!
CHIP AND FAIL xvi (Autistic author) "Both of you, sit down," Karen ordered, her voice firm but not unkind. They complied, their movements jerky with emotion. "Chip, your father's autism is not an excuse for this behavior, but it's also not something to mock," Karen began, looking at her son with serious eyes. "It's a part of him, and we need to respect it." Chip's anger subsided slightly. "But you saw what happened earlier," he said, his voice still shaking. "It's like he doesn't even want to be around me." But Plankton's not quite done. "Why do you think that is, Chip? Go on, smarty, enlighten..." Karen's patience had run out. "Plankton," she said, her voice stern. "That's enough." He glared at Chip, his antennae quivering with anger. Chip looked away from him. "And Plankton," Karen's voice was a gentle reprimand, "Your son's ignorance is not an excuse for anger. We all need to communicate better." Plankton's antennae drooped. "I know," he murmured, his anger easing slightly. "It's just..." Karen's voice was firm. "I know it's frustrating, but we need to work together." She turned to Chip. "And Chip, your father's feelings are valid. You can't ignore them." Chip looked at his father, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Dad," he murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Karen's voice was calm as she interceded. "Plankton, can you tell Chip what happened today? Help him understand?" Plankton's antennae stopped shaking. He took a deep breath. "When you touch me without asking," he began, his voice still sharp, "my body can't always handle what yours can." Karen's eyes were a gentle reminder of the lesson she had tried to teach earlier. She nodded for him to continue. "When you poke me or touch me without asking," Plankton said, "it's overwhelming." "I just barely touched you for one second, Dad!" "To you, it's one second," Plankton replied, his antennae drooping. "To me, it's an eternity of discomfort." Karen stepped in. "Chip," she said, "You need to understand that for him, it's not just about physical contact. It's about respecting his boundaries."
WHEN THE CHIP FALLS i/ii (Autistic author) Karen picks up her son, Chip, from a friend's house. "Hi, mom! Where's dad?" He asks her. "Don't worry, we'll see him soon." They return home. Once inside, Chip throws his book bag on the couch, his sneakers thumping. Karen finds Plankton in his lab, his eye glued to a book. She knows that look, it's his way of hyperfixating. She approaches carefully. "Plankton?" she says gently. He jumps a little, his hands fidgeting with the pipettes. "Chip's home," she continues, watching his eye flicker to the doorway, then back to the beakers. Chip's footsteps echo down the hall, and suddenly, he's there, his body crashing into his father's in a tight, unexpected hug. Plankton's arms hang at his sides. "I missed you," Chip whispers into his father's chest. Plankton's body tenses, his mind racing with unexpected sensory input. He tries to focus on his breath, to slow it down, but it's like trying to swim through a tornado of stimuli. Karen gently pries Chip away, leading them both to the living room. "Is everything ok, Dad?" Chip asks, his face scrunched in concern. Plankton follows them, his movements mechanical. "Just... working on something important," Plankton mutters, his eye dodging Chip's gaze. "I'm fine.." Chip senses the distance, the walls Plankton's put up around himself. He's seen it before, but it still stings. What Chip doesn't know is that his dad's autistic. Plankton fidgets, avoiding his son's gaze. "What's going on?" Chip asks. "Dad's just a little stressed with work." But Chip's not buying it. He notices the way his father's fingers tap a staccato rhythm. Chip tries to hug Plankton again, his arms reaching out like a lifeline. Plankton flinches, the touch sending a jolt of discomfort through his body. He can't help it; his senses are already overwhelmed. "Chip, please," Plankton says, voice sharp as a tack. Chip turns to his father. "What's wrong, Dad?" he asks again, his voice small. He can't find the words to explain. Instead, he does the only thing he can think of to relieve the tension: he prys Chip's arms away, his movements abrupt. "Dad?" Chip's voice is tiny, confused. Plankton's voice booms through the room, sharp and loud. "I said I'm fine!!" The echo of his words hangs in the air, and Chip shrinks back, his arms falling to his sides. Karen sighs, knowing it's time to explain. "Chip," she starts, "Your dad has something that makes him..." "I know, I know," he interrupts, his voice tinged with frustration. "Dad's always like this. Always lost in his own world, never..." "What do you mean 'always like this'?" Plankton demands, the words sharp and pointed. Chip takes a step back. "It's just... you're always so busy with work," he stammers. "I just... I want to spend time with you." Plankton's eye widens, accusation stinging him. He tries to find the words to explain, to bridge the gap between his autistic brain and his son's need for connection. But his thoughts are a jumbled mess of frustration and guilt. He loves, but sometimes, his condition makes it hard to show it. "I'm not 'always like this,'" Plankton snaps, his voice cracking like a whip. "You don't understand!" He slams his fist on the table. "I'm sorry," Chip murmurs, "I didn't mean..." But his words are drowned out by the storm of emotion raging within his father. "You think I choose this?" He gestures wildly. "I'm not 'always like this'! You think it's easy?" Karen's heart aches as she watches the raw pain flash across Plankton's face. Chip takes a tentative step forward. "I just want to understand," he whispers. He reaches out and gently places his hand on Plankton's arm. Plankton's rage doesn't abate, his arm jerking away as if burned. "You think you can just fix me with a pat on the back and a sad puppy look?" He spat out the words. "I'm not something to be fixed," Plankton says, his voice low and dangerous. His fist slams into the table again. Chip's hand retreats to his side. "I didn't say you were," he manages to reply, his voice shaking. "I just want to be with you." "You don't get it," he seethes, his voice rising. "You can't just come in here and demand I change for you!" His fists clench, and the pipettes in his lab coat pockets clink ominously. "Dad I don't know what you're talking about.." Chip's voice is a mere whisper, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton's anger doesn't waver. His body shakes with the intensity of his emotions, his face a mask of fury and pain. "You think you know me?" Plankton's voice is like thunder, his words a torrent of accusation. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me how to feel, how to act?" Chip takes a step back. "I just want to help," he says, his voice a barely audible whisper. Plankton's sarcasm is bitter. "Oh, help," he mocks, his voice a parody of sweetness. "You're so helpful. You know what help would be? Leaving me alone!" "But Dad," Chip starts. "I don't know what I did wrong." Plankton's lashing out at Chip. "Oh, you're just the picture of innocence, aren't you?" he says, his tone a toxic mix of anger and patronizing. "Coming in acting like you know everything, thinking you can just fix me with a hug and a sympathetic look." Chip feels his cheeks burn. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking. "You're sorry?" Plankton repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're sorry? What good is sorry?!" Chip shakes his head. "You think I don't know what you're thinking? That I can't feel your pity?" He scoffs, a cold, brittle sound. "You think I don't know when you look at me like that?" Chip's meeting his father's furious gaze. "I don't..." But Plankton cuts him off, his voice a sneer. "Don't lie to me. I can see it in your screen. You think I'm some thing to be fixed, like one of your toys." Chip feels like being crushed by a heavy weight, his chest tightening with each of his father's words. "That's not what I meant," he stammers. "You think it's easy for me, don't you?" He sneers. "You think I don't wish I could just turn it off, be 'normal' for you?" "No, Dad, I... I just want to understand. And, turn what off?" Plankton's eye narrows, his jaw clenching. "You don't get it, I can't just turn off who I am. I'm not some broken toy!" "I just want to be with you," he repeats, his voice shaking. "I don't care if you're not... like other dads or whatever you're saying.." Plankton's anger doesn't abate, his body stiff as a board. "You think that's it?" he sneers. "You think it's just a matter of me snapping out of it?" "I don't know, Dad," he admits, his voice breaking. "I just... I want to spend time with you." Plankton's face contorts further, his frustration boiling over. "You think that's all it takes?" he shouts. "You want quality time?" His voice cracks. Chip nods, desperate for a connection. "Yes," he whispers. "Quality time," Plankton repeats, his voice dripping with scorn. "You think that's all I need, a little 'quality time' and everything will be fine? You have no idea what I go through every day just to pretend to be like them, for you, for your mother!" Chip's in shock. He's never seen his father like this, so raw and exposed. The room seems to pulse with Plankton's anger, each beat a reminder of the distance between them. "I don't know," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know," Plankton mimics, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think it's just a matter of trying harder, don't you? Like it's a switch I can just flip?" He starts to pace the room, his footsteps heavy and punctuated by his frustration. "You think I enjoy your pity parties?" "Dad, I..." he whispers, but his voice is lost in the tempest. "You think you know what it's like to be me?" he snarls. "You have no idea. You're just a child, playing at being an adult with your little 'I want to understand' nonsense." Karen can't take it anymore. With a gentle but firm voice, she steps between them. "Plankton," she says, her tone a warning. "That's enough." Plankton's rant falters, his eye meeting hers. For a moment, he seems lost, his anger flickering out like a candle in a gust of wind. "You don't know what it's like," he repeats softer, anger morphing into a deep sadness that seeps into the fabric of the room. Chip looks up, his screen glistening with unshed tears. "Tell me," he pleads. "Help me understand." Karen's gaze softens, and sighs heavily. "Your dad has something called Autism," she says gently. "It's like his brain is wired differently. It's not good or bad, it just makes things harder for him sometimes." Chip looks up, his face a canvas of confusion. "Does that mean he can't love me?" he asks, the fear in his voice like a knife. Karen kneels beside him, taking his small hand in hers. "No, baby," she says softly. "It means his love might look different. He feels it just as much, but shows it in his own way." Plankton stands there, his body rigid, his eye darting between Karen and Chip. "I don't know how to do this," he says finally, his voice cracking with emotion. "I don't know how to be what you want." "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice trembling. Plankton's eye narrows, his voice like shards of ice. "This," he says, gesturing to his head. "This... thing inside me that makes everything so hard." His hand gestures to his forehead as if to punctuate his words. "This autism!" Chip looks up with confusion and a touch of fear. "But Dad," he says softly, "I don't see it like that. I don't even know what Autism is!" Karen's gaze flickers to Plankton, who stands motionless, his jaw clenched. "It's ok," she reassures her son. "It's not something you can see, Chip. It's just how Daddy's brain works."
WHEN THE CHIP FALLS ii/ii (Autistic author) Karen takes a deep breath, preparing to explain. "You know how sometimes, when somethings made, things don't always develop as planned?" she starts, her eyes never leaving Chip's. "Well, Daddy's brain is like that. It's just how he was born." Plankton's shoulders slump, anger dissipating into a heavy sadness. He looks at his son, his heart aching. "It's hard for me to express how I feel," he says. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel it." Chip stares up at his father. "But why can't you just tell me?" he asks, trembling. "Why can't you just be like... normal dads?" The word "normal" hangs in the air and Plankton feels his rage reignite. "Don't you dare," he growls, his eye flashing with anger. "Don't you ever say that again." Chip takes a step back, his body shaking. "What did I say?" he whispers. But Plankton doesn't answer. He turns away, his movements stiff and jerking, as if he's fighting against invisible chains. Without a word, he storms out of the living room. The bedroom door slams shut with a finality that echoes through the house. Karen's gaze follows him, her heart heavy. Then she looks back at Chip, her eyes filled with a mix of love and disappointment. "Chip," she says firmly. "You can't just... expect him to change like that." Chip's eyes fill with understanding, his body slumping. "I didn't mean to..." he starts, his voice trailing off. "But I just want to spend time with him," he says, his voice small and defeated. Karen sighs, her gaze softening as she looks at her son. "I know, sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "But using the word 'normal' doesn't help. It makes Daddy feel like something's wrong with him, like he's not good enough." Chip's eyes widen, realizing his mistake. "I didn't mean it like that," he stammers, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I just want us to be happy together." Karen nods solemnly, her eyes holding his. "I know you do," she says, her voice gentle. "But words can hurt, especially when we don't understand the full weight they carry. Your father's not 'normal' in the way you think, but that doesn't mean his love for you is any less." Chip bites his lip, his eyes glued to the floor. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing he's hurt his dad. With a heavy sigh, Karen stands up. "Let's go talk to your father," she says, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. They walk down the hallway to Plankton's bedroom. The door is ajar, and through the crack, Karen can see Plankton's hunched form on the bed, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shake with silent sobs. Her heart aches for his pain. With Chip in tow, she pushes the door open. Plankton doesn't look up, his body wrapped in a cocoon of self-loathing. The room is a mess of discarded lab equipment and half-finished experiments, a visual representation of his tumultuous thoughts. "Plankton," Karen says softly, her voice a lifeline thrown into the sea of his despair. He doesn't move, his body rigid with the weight of his own emotions. Chip takes a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to touch his father's shoulder. "Dad?" he whispers. Plankton's body jolts, his sobs growing louder. Karen's heart clenches at the sound, knowing the depth of his pain. "Dad?" Chip's voice is tiny, his hand hovering over his father's back. He's never seen his dad like this, so vulnerable and broken. Plankton's sobs fill the room, each one a shard of pain that penetrates Karen's soul. Her heart breaks for her husband, for the struggle she knows he faces every day. Chip's hand shakes as he touches Plankton's shoulder, his voice a tiny thread of hope woven through the storm of emotions. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's sobs intensify, his body wracking with the weight of his sorrow. Karen moves to the bed, sitting down beside him, her hand on his back. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle breeze in the storm of his grief. But Plankton is beyond consolation. His sobs are like waves, crashing against the shore of his pride, eroding the barriers he's built up over the years. He can't speak, can't even look at his son. Chip's touch is a soft whisper in the hurricane of his father's pain, but it's enough to make Plankton's shoulders shake even harder. The weight of his emotions is too much, his body unable to contain the torrent. Karen wraps her arms around him, trying to soothe the storm within. She knows the feeling all too well, having been his anchor through so many of these moments. Plankton's sobs are like a language only she can understand. Chip watches, feeling helpless, his hand still hovering over his father's back. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. It's like looking into the eye of a hurricane and wishing you could stop it from spinning. "Daddy," Chip says again, his voice tiny, hopeful. Plankton's body tenses under his touch, and for a moment, it seems like the storm might abate. But the sobs only get louder, the tremors more violent. Karen's heart breaks as she sees the hurt in her son's eyes. "Let's give him some space, okay?" she says gently, her hand on Chip's shoulder. "Go wait, I'll take care of him." With a nod, Chip retreats, his eyes never leaving his father's bent form. Once he's gone, Karen wraps her arms around Plankton, holding him tightly as he cries. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his back in soothing circles. "It's okay. I'm here." Her voice is a lullaby in the tempest of his emotions, a beacon of calm in the chaos. Slowly, Plankton's sobs begin to subside, his body unclenching from its self-imposed prison. He lifts his face, eye red and wet with tears. "I just want..." he whispers, his voice raw with pain. Karen's eyes well up with tears, her heart aching for his suffering. "You are normal, Plankton," she says softly. "You're just different." Plankton's body quakes, his sobs subsiding into hiccups. "But Chip..." he chokes out. "He thinks... he thinks..." Karen's grip tightens, her voice firm and loving. "Chip's young," she says. "He doesn't understand yet. But we'll teach him." Plankton's sobs slowly ease, his breaths coming less ragged. He nods, his body still tense. "I know," he says, his voice a whisper. "But it hurts." Karen pulls him closer, aching for his pain. She kisses his cheek, her touch gentle the way she knows he likes it. "You're a good dad," she whispers, her voice the calm after the storm. "You show Chip that you're here for him, in your own way." Plankton's eye meets hers, his gaze searching for truth in her words. He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice still thick with emotion. Karen nods, her heart full of love and sorrow. "Let's go talk to Chip," she says gently, standing up. Plankton wipes his eye, his body still trembling. He nods, following her out of the room, each step a monumental effort. In the hallway, Chip is sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. He looks up as they approach, his eyes red and swollen. "Dad," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. Plankton's steps falter, his heart in his throat. He forces himself to meet his son's gaze, the weight of his guilt a heavy burden. "I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice shaky. The words are a balm to Plankton's soul, his anger and pain receding like a retreating tide. He looks at Chip, his eye swollen with unshed tears, his heart heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to... I just..." Chip's eyes are red, his cheeks stained with tears. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a mere thread of sound. Plankton's heart clenches at the sight of his son's pain. He sits down next to Chip, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle him. "It's okay," he says, his voice shaky. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm not..." Chip looks up, his eyes swimming with tears. "You're not what?" he asks, his voice hopeful. Plankton sighs, trying to find the words. "I'm not like other dads," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't mean I don't l-love you, or that I don't want to be with you." Plankton's gaze drops to his son's small, trembling hand. "It's hard," he says, his voice tight with emotion. "I... I don't always know how to make you feel what's inside." Chip looks up at him, his eyes searching. "What's inside?" he asks, his voice tiny. Plankton's gaze meets his son's, and he sees the flicker of hope. "Love," he says finally, his voice cracking. "It's just... different." Chip's eyes widen with understanding, the fear fading from his eyes. "Can you show me?" he asks, his voice small but steady. Plankton nods, his body still tense with emotion. He thinks for a moment, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between his love and his inability to express it. "Look," he says, pointing to a jar on the shelf. "I only like certain touches from certain people. But I'm the one who recommended we get that ice cream yesterday, right?" Chip nods, his eyes glistening with hope. "Yeah, you always know the perfect flavor." Plankton's smile is forced, but it's a start. He takes a deep, shaky breath. "And remember when you had that science fair project, and I helped you?" Chip nods, his eyes lit with memory. "You stayed up all night, making sure I got it just right." Plankton's smile is a little more genuine this time. "I did that because I care about you. I want you to be happy, even if I can't show it like everyone else." He reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering near Chip's. For a moment, it seems like he might withdraw again, like a snail retreating into its shell at the first sign of danger. But then, with a deep breath, he touches his son's shoulder, his fingers light and unsure. Plankton's hand trembles, his touch as gentle as a feather landing on Chip's shoulder before retreating. "Normal is over rated," he whispers, the word a promise. "But I do, in my own way."
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip, son of Karen and Plankton, came home from summer camp early one day. Chip's mother, Karen, greeted Chip. Plankton, his father, was a quirky little fellow, known for his ingenious inventions that often failed, but never dampened his spirit. So Chip decides to go find his father eagerly. Plankton was on his own bed in the room he shared with Karen. The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and in burst Chip. He threw himself onto Plankton's bed, not noticing his father's flinch at the sudden noise and movement. "Dad! Dad! You won't believe what I learned at camp! I made a new friend, and we did the coolest science project together! It's like you're always saying, science can make anything taste good!" Yet it was too much for his overwhelmed body to handle. Plankton's eye glazed over, his body still as a statue, frozen in the midst of his usual frenetic energy. Chip's chatter trailed off as he stared at his father, confused. "Dad? Are you okay?" Chip stepped closer, noticing the way he didn't move, not even to blink. Panic clawed at his chest. The room grew silent, save for the ticking of a clock in the corner. The vivid colors of Chip's camp t-shirt seemed to dull in contrast to Plankton's unnatural stillness. The boy's mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. He knew his dad was quirky, but this was different. It was like the gears in Plankton's brain had stopped turning, leaving his body an empty shell. Chip reached out with a trembling hand, placing it on Plankton's shoulder. The cold, unyielding feel of his father's skin sent a shiver down his spine. "Dad?" he whispered, voice shaking with fear. "Wake up, please." His voice was a mere echo in the room, bouncing off the walls and returning to him, unheard. Panic swelled in his chest, pushing aside the excitement from moments before. Chip knew his dad was different, had always been different, but this... this was new, this was terrifying. Here, in their tiny house in the Chum Bucket, Plankton's breathing remained steady, but his eye were vacant. The young boy's mind whirred, trying to piece together his father's sudden stillness. Plankton had always been a whirlwind of ideas and energy, but now he sits there, silent and unresponsive. Chip's fingers tightened on Plankton's shoulder. "Dad, please," Chip began to plead, his voice cracking with emotion. He shook him gently at first, then more urgently, but the small figure remained unmoved. He tried to shake his father again, more firmly this time, but Plankton was still as stone. His eye were open, but there was no spark of life. The only sound was the frantic panting of his own breaths. "Dad, come on! You're scaring me!" Chip's voice grew desperate. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back. He couldn't let fear overtake him now. He had to help his dad. He patted Plankton's cheek, then called out louder, "Daddy, snapshot out of it!" Still no response. He tried calling again, louder now, but Plankton remained eerily silent. He grabbed the nearest item, a rubber spatula from his dad's invention bench, and waved it in front of his father's face. Nothing. Not a blink, not even a twitch. "Dad, wake up!" But Plankton just sat there, his gaze fixed on some unseen point on the wall. Chip's thoughts spun out of control. He had to get his mother. She'd know what to do. "Mom, something's wrong with Dad. He won't wake up!" Karen rushed in. She took in the scene and immediately knew that Plankton was in the grip of a shutdown. An intense reaction to overstimulation for someone on the spectrum, like his autism. "Chip, sweetie, back away," she said gently, pushing his hand off Plankton's shoulder. Karen had always tried to protect her son from the reality of his father's condition. But now, she realized, it was time for Chip to learn. Her voice was calm and soothing as she approached Plankton. She sat beside him on the bed, her hand resting on his cold, stiff arm. "Chip, sometimes Daddy's brain gets too full." She looked up at her son, her screen filled with both sadness and love. Chip stared at her, his mind racing. "What do we do?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "We just need to wait," Karen replied, her voice steady. "It's like his brain's gone on a little vacation. Give him some space, okay?" Chip nodded, though he didn't fully understand. He stepped back and watched his mother gently stroke Plankton's arm. Curiosity began to bubble up inside him, mixing with the fear. Chip stepped back from the bed, his screen wide with wonder and worry. He studied his father intently, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Oblivious to his own fear, Chip tiptoed closer once more, his curiosity getting the better of him. He leaned in, peering closely at Plankton's expressionless face. "What's happening to him, Mom?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's like his brain needs a break, Chip. Sometimes, his mind gets too busy, and his body just stops so he can recharge." Chip's screen searched his mother's, looking for more. "But why is he so still?" he pressed, his curiosity refusing to be quenched. Karen sighed softly, her fingers still moving in soothing circles on Plankton's arm. "It's like his brain is taking a nap," she explained. "When he gets too much information or feels too much, his body just stops to help him cope." Chip nodded, his young mind working overtime. "Can I talk to him?" Karen looked down at Plankton, her gaze filled with concern. "You can," she said softly, "but he might not hear you right now. Give him some quiet." Chip nodded, but his curiosity couldn't be stilled. "Can't I tell him about my day?" Karen squeezed his hand gently. "You can, but remember, his brain is resting. He might not understand everything you say. But it's okay to whisper comforts to him. Sometimes just hearing your voice can be comforting." With a nod, Chip whispered his questions, his voice barely audible above the clock's tick. "Dad, can you hear me? What's it like when your brain takes a nap?" He paused, waiting for some sign of life, but Plankton remained still. Karen watched her son carefully. She knew this was a crucial moment for him, learning to navigate his father's complex world.
CHIP AND FAIL xviii (Autistic author) Chip's eyes grew wide with realization. "So that's why he..." But before he could finish, Plankton's antennae began to stir, his body shifting slightly in the bed. Chip's breath caught in his throat as he watched his father's face contort. "It's not uncommon for someone with autism to have trouble with sleep." Karen whispers. "He's okay." Chip's eyes remained glued to his father, watching as the twitching grew more pronounced. Plankton's antennae quivered and he let out a soft whine. Karen's hand reached for Plankton's, her thumb stroking his gently, her voice a gentle coo. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispered, her hand stroking his arm. Karen's voice remained steady, her hand never leaving Plankton's arm. "It's okay," she whispered, her eyes on Chip. "He's just..." Chip took a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to mirror Karen's. His fingertips brushed Plankton's arm. "Dad?" he whispered, looming over him. With a gasped jolt, Plankton's eye flew open, his antennae shooting straight up with a yelp at the sight of Chip looking over him. "Don't touch me!" he screamed, his voice a mix of fear and anger. Chip's hand shot back as if burned. He stepped away quickly, his eyes wide with shock. "Dad," he began, his voice shaky. But Plankton's antennae were a blur of agitation. "I said no!" he shouted. "Can't you just leave me alone?" Chip's eyes filled with hurt, but he stepped back, his arms dropping to his sides. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Karen's voice was a soft whisper, trying to soothe Plankton. "It's okay, honey," she said, her hand still on his arm. "Chip's just trying to help." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye darting from Karen to Chip and back again. "I don't want his help," he said, his voice tight with anger. "I just want to be left alone." Chip felt his heart sink. "But Dad," he protested, his voice cracking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving. He took a deep, shaky breath. "Chip, you have to understand," he said, his voice strained. "I need my space." Karen's eyes were filled with compassion as she turned to Chip. "Give him some time," she said gently. Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father. "But what if he doesn't want me to come back?" Karen's voice was firm. "He doesn't have to be ready right now," she said. "But we'll work on it." Chip's eyes searched hers, seeking reassurance. "But what if he never is?" Karen's voice was a gentle reminder. "He's your father, Chip. And you love him. Give him the space he needs, but don't give up." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's rigid form. "Okay," he murmured. "But how do I..." But Karen's voice was firm. "You'll learn," she said. "We'll all learn together." She stood, her hand sliding off Plankton's arm. "For now, let him rest. We'll talk more later." Chip nodded, his gaze lingering on his father's tense form. He turned to leave the room, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his newfound understanding. As he closed the door softly behind him, he heard Plankton's muffled sobs, and it was like a dagger to his heart. He leaned against the wall, his eyes brimming with tears. "What have I done?" he thought. Karen's hand was a warm comfort on Plankton's shoulder, guiding him back to the bed. "Let's sit," she said, her voice soft and soothing. Plankton's antennae slowly lowered as he sat down, his body still tense with emotion. "I just... I can't," he said, his voice breaking. Karen pulled him into a gentle embrace, her arms a warm cocoon around his trembling form. "You don't have to," she whispered. "You've been through enough." Plankton's antennae quivered against her shoulder. "But what about Chip?" he managed through his sobs. "He deserves better." "He deserves to understand," Karen said, her voice a gentle lullaby. "And we'll help him get there." Plankton's sobs quieted, his antennae still quivering against her shoulder. He took a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can," he said. "Every time I think we're making progress..." "Shh," Karen whispered. "We're getting there." She held him tighter. Plankton's antennae stilled, his body relaxing slightly into the warmth of her embrace. He closed his eye, his breathing evening out. Within minutes, his antennae were a gentle sway against her neck, a sign that sleep was claiming him. Karen held him tightly, her own body tense with the weight of his pain. She knew this was a small victory, but it was a step in the right direction. As she felt him drift off, she whispered, "We'll get through this together." Plankton's antennae stilled completely, his body finally giving in to the comfort of his wife's embrace. Karen's heart ached as she felt his tension melt away, his breaths evening into the rhythm of sleep. The room was a canvas of early morning light, casting soft shadows on their intertwined forms. Plankton's antennae had finally stilled, their gentle sway a testament to his deep slumber. His body was relaxed, no longer a battleground for sensory overload. Karen's arms remained wrapped around Plankton's shoulders, her grip gentle yet firm. His antennae, which had been a maelstrom of anxiety, now laid calmly against her neck, each twitch replaced by a steady breath. The room, bathed in the soft glow of early dawn, was a sanctuary of quietude. The tension from the previous night had been replaced by the serene rhythm of his snores, a melody that spoke of his body's surrender to rest. Chip tiptoed back to the bedroom door, his heart a drum in his chest. He peeked in, his eyes immediately finding his father, still asleep. Karen was there, her arms around Plankton's shoulders. The sight of them together, his mother's comforting embrace, his father's peaceful rest, was a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before. Chip's heart clenched in his chest, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He wanted so badly to be a part of that peace, but he knew he had to earn it. He took a tentative step into the room, his eyes never leaving his father's sleeping form. Karen looked up, her eyes heavy with the weight of the night's events. She offered a small smile, a silent gesture of support. "How is he?" Chip asked, his voice a whisper in the early morning stillness. "As well as can be," Karen replied, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "But we need to talk." Chip nodded, his heart racing as he stepped closer to the bed. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes on his father's still form. Karen's gaze met his, her expression a mix of love and concern. "We all are, Chip," she said, her voice a gentle breeze. "But it's important to learn from this." Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father. "What can I do?" he asked, his voice tentative. Karen looked up at him, her eyes filled with understanding. "For now, just give him space," she said. "He needs to wake up on his own terms. You've apologized," she said. "Now you have to show it." Chip nodded, his heart heavy. "What do you mean?" Karen took a deep breath. "It means," she began, "that you need to respect his boundaries. Ask before you touch him. Give him time to process what's happening. And when he says no, accept it." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton. "But what if I accidentally..." Karen's voice was a firm, yet gentle, guide. "You'll learn," she said. "It's about paying attention, Chip. Watching his body language, his antennae. They'll tell you when he's reaching his limit." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's sleeping form. "But what if I miss the signs?" his voice filled with fear. Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the earnestness in them. "You won't always get it right," she admitted. "But the important thing is that you keep trying." Chip nodded, his gaze falling to his father's antennae. They were still, no longer a whirlwind of distress. "I will," he promised.
CHIP AND FAIL xv (Autistic author) "But Dad," Chip began, his voice trembling, when Plankton interrupts. "BUT DAD," Plankton mimics, his voice high-pitched and mocking. "You think you know how I feel, but you have no idea!" Karen stepped back. She knew Plankton needed to express his anger, and Chip needed to learn from it. "Dad, I'm sorry," Chip whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make it about..." But Plankton's antennae were a flurry of agitation. "You think your stupid need to touch me can just make everything okay? WELL GUESS WHAT, CHIP? IT CAN'T!" He was shouting now, his voice echoing through the room. Chip's eyes filled with hurt. "Dad, I just wanted to tell you about my week," he said, his voice quivering. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's just starting. "You think your convenience more important than my comfort?" he snapped. "Dad," Chip says. "I just wanted to be close..." But Plankton's anger was a raging storm. "YOUR VERSION OF CLOSE IS Suffocation!" he yells, his antennae shaking violently. "You're nothing but a child. All you know is your own need for attention, yet you expect me to be fine with your constant poking and prodding?" Chip's cheeks burned with shame. "That's not fair," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to understand..." But Plankton's antennae were a blur of anger. "Understand? You can't even begin to understand what it's like!" he spat. "You live your life in a bubble, Chip. You've always had everything you've ever wanted, and now you want to 'understand' me? And don't come crying about fairness..." "PLEASE Dad..." But Plankton's anger was unstoppable. "You think you're so clever," he sneered with rage. "With your fancy friends and your easy life. You wouldn't know what it's like to have to fight for every little thing." Chip felt the sting. "Dad," he choked out, "That's not..." But Plankton's words were a tidal wave, crashing down. "You're selfish," he accused. "Always thinking of yourself." Now Chip's getting upset. "I'm selfish? At least I'm not the one who's too busy being a drama queen to see how much I care!" he retorts, his voice a mix of pain and anger. Plankton's antennae shot up. "You dare call me that?" he roared. "You have no idea what it's like to drown in sensory overload, to have your brain betray you every single day!" Chip took a step back, his cheeks red with anger. "You think because I don't understand, I don't care?" he yelled back. "You're the one who's never there for me because of your 'condition'! You're just a shallow, spoiled little..." "ENOUGH! Both of you, stop it right now!" Karen says. Her voice cuts through the argument like a knife, silencing the room. She could feel the anger, the frustration, the hurt in each of their voices.
CHIP AND FAIL xi (Autistic author) Karen made chum for dinner and they all sat at the table. "Thanks," Plankton says to Karen as she hands him his plate. She sits down with her own plate after serving Chip his. "Hi, Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. Plankton's antennae twitched, but his eye remained fixed on his plate. The silence was a wall between them, thick as seaweed and just as impenetrable. Chip's heart felt like it was sinking into his stomach, the weight of his father's silence heavier than any words could have been. Karen's screen darted between them, a silent plea for peace. She knew this was Plankton's way of dealing with his overwhelm, but it was torture for Chip, who craved understanding and connection. "So, how's your friends?" Karen asks Chip. Chip shrugs, his screen darting to Plankton, who remains silent, his antennae still. "They're okay," he says, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. Karen sighs internally, the tension at the dinner table a heavy fog that seemed to smother their usual banter. "Karen, can you pass the napkins?" Plankton says. "Sure," she says as she puts them in the middle. "Dad, how do you feel about the food?" Plankton's antennae twitched but his gaze remained on his plate, his mouth a tight line. The silence was a thick stew that no one knew how to digest. Chip's eyes were filled with hope, searching for any sign of his father's usual playfulness, but all he found was a wall of quiet. Chip's voice was a feeble ripple in the vast ocean of their silence. "Dad, can I get you a drink?" he offered. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained silent, his eye never leaving his plate. The air was thick with tension, like seawater saturated with the weight of their unspoken words. Chip churned with anxiety, each bite of chum a reminder of the gap that had suddenly widened between him and his father. "Please, Dad," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the clink of their forks. Plankton's antennas remained still, his eye focused on the food before him. Karen's heart was a tight knot in her chest, her eyes darting between her husband and son. The silence was a living creature, a Kraken of tension coiled around them, squeezing the joy from the room. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "So, Chip, tell us about your week," she said, her voice too bright, too forced. Chip took a tentative bite of his chum, his eyes on Plankton's unmoving antennae. "Well, I had a good time at the carnival," he began, his voice a sad echo of his usual excitement. "I won at the ring toss." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his silence a thick, unspoken wall. Chip felt like a deflated balloon, each of his words a futile attempt to pierce the silence. "And I met a new friend," Chip continued, his voice a feeble thread trying to weave through the stillness. "She's a dolphin. She was really cute." Plankton's antennae twitched again, just a little, but it was enough to keep Chip's hope afloat. Chip's voice grew stronger, his words a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of silence. "Her name's Daisy," he said, a tiny smile tugging. "We played in the bubbles." But Plankton's antennae remained still, his eye on his plate. It was as if Chip's words were bouncing off an invisible shield, unable to penetrate the fortress of his father's mind. Chip's smile faltered, his screen filling with unshed tears. He wanted so badly to share his joy with Plankton, but the wall of silence was too high, too thick. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching around his fork. "Dad, I know you're mad at me," he said, his voice trembling. "But I just want to understand." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment, weighing down on Chip like an oversized sponge soaked in regret. He knew he had to try again, to bridge the gap. "Dad," he began, his voice shaky but determined. "I know I messed up today, but I want to make it right." He took a deep breath, willing the words to come. "Can you tell me more about your...about what happened to you?" His voice was a tiny bubble of hope rising in the deep sea of their dinner. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flickering up to meet Chip's for a brief moment before dropping back to his plate. The silence stretched on like a tight rubber band, threatening to snap. Karen's screen a tempest of concern, torn between her love for her husband and her desire to help her son. She knew Plankton needed his space, but seeing the pain in Chip's screen was like watching a piece of coral being slowly eroded by the sea. Chip's words hung in the air, like a message in a bottle lost at sea. Plankton's silence was a reef that Chip's words couldn't navigate around. He took a deep breath, his heart a conch shell echoing with hope. "Dad, I know it's hard for you," he tried again, his voice a gentle wave. "But if you don't tell me, how can I understand?" The room was a pressure cooker of unspoken emotion, the tension rising with each passing second. Karen's screen pleaded with Plankton, willing him to respond. But he remained still, his antennae unmoving, his eye a storm cloud over their meal. Chip's heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, his words falling on deaf antennae. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice desperate. "I just want to help." But Plankton's antennae remained motionless, his eye averted. The silence was a deep-sea trench between them, vast and unbridgeable. Chip's shoulders slumped, his hope leaking away like water through a sieve. He took another bite of his chum, the taste of it suddenly bitter on his tongue. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a tiny hammer on the anvil of his heart. Chip forced a swallow, his throat tight with emotion. "Dad," he said again, his voice a tiny ripple in the vast ocean of quiet. "I'm sorry." The room held its breath, waiting for a response, but none came. The silence was a thick kelp that choked, suffocating any attempt at conversation.
CHIP AND FAIL viii (Autistic author) Karen's hand was a lifeline, her voice a gentle guide. "Chip," she called out. "We need to talk." Chip stopped in the hallway. Why was Dad acting so weird? He turned to face his mother, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What's wrong with him?" he demanded, his voice filled with accusation. "He doesn't deserve to be called my dad if he can't even..." But that's when it happens. That's when Plankton started hyperventilating, and that's when Plankton can't take anymore. That's when it happened. Chip's words were like a match striking too close to a powder keg. Plankton's breath hitched, his antennae twitching erratically. Karen rushed to his side, her screen wide with concern. "Babe, you okay?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress. She holds her arms out to catch Plankton. But Plankton's mind was a whirlwind, his body a live wire. He couldn't answer, couldn't find the words to explain the chaos that was his reality. His antennae trembled as he struggled to breathe, his body rigid with fear. He had hoped to keep this hidden, to protect Chip from the truth, but it was too much. The storm inside him grew wilder, each breath a battle. Chip's eyes searched his father's, his own confusion mirroring the chaos in the room. "What's wrong with you?" he repeated, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. But Plankton's mind was a tornado, his thoughts swirling too fast for words. He could feel his chest constrict, his heart pounding like a drum. Karen watched her son's screen, seeing the hurt in his eyes, the misunderstanding etched deep. She took a deep breath, knowing the moment had arrived. "Chip," she began, her voice soft but firm, "there's something you need to know about your dad." Chip looked at her, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "What could possibly make him act like this?" he spat, poking Plankton hard. "Why did you marry him? He's just nothing but..." "Chip," Karen said firmly, taking his hands in hers, when Plankton starts to wheeze heavily, his body constricting with each shallow breath. Chip's anger faded, replaced with fear as he watched his father's distress. "Dad?" he whispered, his voice shaking. Plankton's body trembled as his legs gave out, collapsing into the embrace Karen had been ready to offer. "Dad?" Chip's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. He had never seen his father so overwhelmed, so vulnerable. Karen knelt beside Plankton, her hands gentle on his trembling body. "It's okay, love," she whispered, her voice a salve on his raw nerves. "Just breathe." Chip's eyes were glued to his father with fear. He had never seen him like this before, his body a stranger's under his own touch. "What's wrong with him?" he asked again, his voice shaking. Karen took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she smoothed back Plankton's antennae. "Chip, your dad was born with something..." Her voice trailed off, the words stuck in her throat like a piece of unchewed food. Chip's eyes searched hers, his confusion a storm cloud gathering. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Your dad," she began, her voice shaking with the weight of her words, "was born different, Chip." Plankton's eye flickered open, filled with a mixture of fear and hope. "What do you mean, 'different'?" Chip asked, his voice small and scared. He had never heard his mother talk about his dad this way before. Karen took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat. "When your dad was born, Chip," she began, her screen filled with a sadness that threatened to spill over, "his brain was injured during delivery. When the doctors pulled him out, they didn't realize how fragile he was and they..." Her voice trailed off, the memory too painful to recount. "They had to get him out and applied too much force on his head, which caused some damage. It gave him a type of condition, where he's on what's called autism spectrum." Chip's eyes widened, his grip on his shirt tightening. "But that's not his fault, right?" he asked, his voice a hopeful whisper. He didn't want to think of his dad as damaged or broken. Karen nodded, her screen filled with love for both her husband and her son. "No, honey, it's not his fault," she said, her voice steady. "It's just how he's. And it's not something you can see or touch. It's like having a radio in your head that's always tuned to the loudest station, and sometimes the static gets too much."
CHIP AND FAIL xiii (Autistic author) Chip's voice was soft. "Dad, I didn't mean to..." But Plankton was stuck. His antennae twitched, a silent signal of his distress. Karen's hand on his arm was a lifeline. She had seen the way the world had treated him, the way his own son didn't understand. "I mean, it's not like you can't just turn it off," Chip said, his voice naive and hopeful. "Why can't you just deal with it? Why do you always have to be so sensitive? You'll get used to it. If not, then you're just being dramatic. So just stop with the tantrums, and be normal." Plankton's unable to take it. "Chip, that's enough," Karen's voice was firm, cutting through the silence, but Plankton's already simmering emotions boiled over. "What?" Chip looked at her, confusion in his screen. "What's wrong with what I said? He's just overreacting.." Karen's eyes were a tempest of emotion. She knew Chip didn't mean to be hurtful, but his words cut through Plankton like a knife. Her hand tightened on his arm, a gentle reminder to think before he spoke. "Chip," she said, her voice firm but kind. "You need to understand that what you just said is not okay." But Chip was oblivious, his screen a puzzle of confusion. "What? I just want to know why you chose to be like a..." "CHIP," Karen interrupts. But Plankton's already in tears, as Chip's gotten to him. "Dad," Chip says. "You know I..." But Plankton can't take it anymore. "How could you?" he chokes out, tears flowing. Chip's eyes widened. He had never seen his father like this. "Dad?" He reached out, his hand hovering, unsure if he should touch him. Plankton looked up, his single eye brimming with sorrow. "Why? How dare you say that?" he whispered, now getting up from the kitchen table. Chip's hand fell to his side, his mouth a sad 'o' of regret. "Dad, no, that's not what I..." But Plankton was already retreating, his antennae drooping with each step. The kitchen door closed with a soft click, leaving Chip and Karen in the wake of his withdrawal. Chip's eyes were wide with disbelief, his heart heavy in his chest. "What did I do?" he asked, his voice breaking the surface of their shared shock. Karen's eyes were pools of disappointment and sadness. "You don't know what you just said," she murmured, her voice a gentle rebuke. "What?" Chip's voice was a sad echo, his confusion palpable. Karen's eyes were a tempest of frustration and sadness. "Chip, what you said was not only hurtful, it was ignorant," she said, her voice a soft wash of disappointment. "You can't tell someone to 'just deal with it' when it comes to autism." Chip's shoulders slumped, his face a mask of regret. "But I just want to understand," he mumbled, his voice a sad echo. Karen's voice tightens with emotion. "You have to learn to listen without speaking," she said, her words carefully chosen. "Your dad's autism is not something he can just 'turn off'." Chip's eyes were wide with shock. "I didn't know," he murmured. "I'm sorry." "You have to understand, Chip. Your father's not being dramatic. He's in pain," she said, her voice cracking. "You can't just tell him to 'deal with it'. That's not how this works." The words stung Chip. He had never seen his mother so upset. "But I didn't know," he protested. "You have to learn to listen," she repeated, her voice soft yet firm. "You can't just assume you understand because you want to." He had wanted to connect, but instead, he had only pushed his father further away. He took a deep breath, the weight of his ignorance heavy on his shoulders. "What can I do?" he asked. Karen took a moment before responding. "Give your father space," she said. "And ask about it first. Understand that his reactions are not his choice." Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. He knew he had messed up, but he didn't know how to fix it. Karen stood, her movements a gentle sway as she walked to Plankton's room, leaving Chip alone with his guilt.

Related Text & Emojis

F e l i c i t a t i o n s , m a l e f a c t o r s !
◤ 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙗𝙮𝙚 ; 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚! 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙮. ◢
THE DAȲ̴̧̱̭̯̹̗̥̬̬̭̠̉͆́̋͌̐̈̈ ̷̹͕̘͖̽͂̃͒̂́̊͗͂̔͝T̸͛̊HA̸͎͉̺͇͛̅̉̈́̈̎͝͝ͅͅT ̸̡͎̣̙͔͉͕̙͉̩̦͈̘͈̊͑͆͊̏͒̀̉̽̕͝͝Ķ̶̧̨̡̘͚̘͖̭͓͇̬̲̹̩̂́̆͂̎̌̅͒Ȓ̶̡̲͚͈͓̪̘̗̬̪̪͚̹͈Â̸̔BS ̴̢̨̰͓͍̝̯̥̤͈̖̪̹̏̏͂͛̈́̃̾͊̉̓̅̋̏F̴̻̳͚͖̞̤͍̥̫̤̀̃̀́͒̽͆̕R̸̃̀̎̈̌̏̕IẸ̸̡̦̹̤̼͉͕͙̗̠̤̼̖̬̈́͋̋̆S̴̨͍͉͙̻͉̼̩̯͕̽ͅ
I V X L C D M 1 5 10 50 100 500 1000 🔢 Individual decimal places Thousands Hundreds Tens Units 1 M C X I 2 MM CC XX II 3 MMM CCC XXX III 4 CD XL IV 5 D L V 6 DC LX VI 7 DCC LXX VII 8 DCCC LXXX VIII 9 CM XC IX
──────▄▄───────────▄▄─────── ───────██─────────██──────── ────────██───────██───────── ─────────██─────██────────── ──────────██───██─────────── ───────────██─██──────────── ───────▄▄██████████▄──────── ──────█▀░░░░░░░░░░░▀█─────── ──────█░▄░░░▄░▄░░░▄░█─────── ──────█░░█████████░░█─────── ──────█░░▄█▀───▀█▄░░█─────── ██────█░░█──▄█▄──█░░█─────██ ███───█░░█──███──█░░█───▄███ █░██──█░░█──▀█▀──█░░█──▄█░█─ ▀█░██─█░░▀█▄───▄█▀░░█─▄█░█▀─ ─▀█░█▄█░░░░▀███▀░░░░█▄█░█▀── ──▀█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▀─── ───▀██░░░▄█▄▄▄▄▄▄█▄░░░█▀──── ─────▀█░▀▌─▌─▐──▌─▐▀░██───── ──────█░░▌─▌─▐──▌─▐░░█────── ──────█░░██████████░░█────── ──────█░░██████████░░█────── ──────█░░██████████░░█────── ──────█░░▀████████▀░░█────── ──────█░░░▌─▐──▌─▐░░░█────── ──────█░░░▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀░░░█────── ──────██░░░░░░░░░░░░██────── ───────██░░░░░░░░░░██─────── ────────█░▄██████▄░█──────── ────────█░█──────█░█──────── ────────█░█──────█░█──────── ────────██▀──────▀██────────
“HEAR ME KRABS! WHEN I DISCOVER YOUR FORMULA FOR KRABBY PATTIES I’LL RUN YOU OUT OF BUSINESS! I W E N T T O C O L L E G E!”
Your Warranty Has Now Expired by Butterfrogmantis Cartoons » SpongeBob SquarePants "Stand down Krabs! Or prepare to meet your doom!" "Yeah right , yer'll never get yer hands on me secret formula!" "My little friend here says otherwise, eheheh! Now hand over the formula Krabs and no- one gets hurt!" Plankton was holding a large ray gun. "I can already smell the patties! COME TO PAPA" He yelled, pressing the trigger. Nothing. He pressed again. Hm, Maybe something was broken? He shook the gun, then aimed it back at the safe and hit release. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. "BARNACLES" He screeched, and squeezed the trigger as hard as he could.. Plankton next woke up in the hospital. "Whaah?" He was aware of a small heart monitor next to him, and the overpowering scent of disinfectant. There was a squeaking trolley moving down the hall, and a slight murmuring from either side of his white curtains. He looked to the left, and then to the right, confused. He had JUST been in the Krusty Krab, hadn't he? Yes, he was trying to melt the safe, so what on earth was he doing in here, he'd been seconds away from blasting the door off of that thing. Ah yes, his ray gun had jammed. Weird. Hadn't done that before. He tapped the side of his head, trying to see if he recalled anything other than pulling the trigger, but his memory was patchy at best. "Sheldon? Oh good, you're alive!" The microorganism looked up to see a very familiar face. Well, screen at the very least. "Ah, Karen! My computer wife – tell me, uh, what happened?" "You exploded, that's what happened. Well, your gun did anyway, I thought you'd died!" "Hm, weird, my trusty old laser shouldn't have gone like that, especially not when I was so CLOSE to getting the secret formula!" He cursed, causing his heart rate monitor to speed up rapidly next to him. Later that evening, once Plankton had been thoroughly checked and confirmed ready for discharge by Nurse Daisy Bazooka, the two returned to the Chum Bucket. The same night, he dreamt about the day. And to think, just like his laser gun, it had all started with the same- "Wires!" Plankton sat up in bed, having been woken up by his thoughts. "Sheldon? What are you doing up at this time? Your left antenna's been twitching ever since I brought you home from the hospital. It only twitches like that when you're stressed or thinking reallll hard about something." "It does?" Plankton blinked, looking up at his own antenna, which was twitching rapidly. "Huh, I wonder why I never noticed". He rubbed his head to get over his daze and turned with a groan to see a familiar yellow sponge bounding up to them from across the other side of the street. He was holding a large balloon. "Hello Karen, Hello Plankton – sorry about your laser the other day." The two of them turned to look out of the window and across the street, to where the sign for the Krusty Krab had just turned from 'closed' to 'open'. "Shall we?" Sheldon grinned a most delighted grin. https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13876443/1/Your-Warranty-Has-Now-Expired
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███████████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████▒▒░░░░▒▓███▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓████████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████░░░░████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓█▓▓▓▓▓███░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓██████▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓█████░░░░░░░█▓█░░░░░░░██▓▓█░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░█████░░░░░░░░░▒█▓█░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█████░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░░██▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░███░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████░░░░░░░░▒░▓██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░▓███░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓███▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒████░░░░░░░░░░████░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░██░░░░░░░░░████░░░ ░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████░░░░▒██▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓████████░▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████░░░░░░░░░░████░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░█░░░░░░░░░░█░░█░░░ ░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒░█░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓██▓▓██▓▓▓█████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓█░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓▓█░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓█░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░██▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
🧪 || ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃᶰ ᵍᵒ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ʷᶤᶠᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵘᶰᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃᶰᵈˢˑ || ‎‍🧪
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣶⣆⣤⣴⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⠋⠉⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣦⣴⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⡀⢀⣤⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣼⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣽⣿⣿⠻⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⣿⣦⣾⣿⡿⠟⠛⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣄⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣷⣴⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠙⠿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣮⣝⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣾⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀⢀⣤⣾⣷⣿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠉⠻⢷⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠋⢹⣿⠋⢀⣠⣴⣾⠿⣻⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠹⠋⢻⣿⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⢁⣀⣠⣤⣄⣀⣉⠙⠻⢿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣩⣽⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⣶⣿⡿⠛⠛⠙⠛⠛⠿⢿⣶⣶⣌⠛⢿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠹⣿⣧⣄⣀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⣿⡋⠙⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣫⡆⠀⣾⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣯⣿⣿⣦⠈⢻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣶⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣇⣤⣤⣬⣽⣿⣿⣟⣛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⣿⠁⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣾⣿⣦⠀⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣶⣴⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣆⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠻⠿⣿⣆⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣼⣿⠟⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⡿⠿⢿⡇⡀⠀⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣼⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⠿⠋⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⢰⣿⠟⠁⣹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⣷⣶⣶⣦⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢻⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠷⠿⠇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣉⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠈⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⢿⣶⣿⣉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⢠⣶⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢹⣿⣿⡿⠹⢿⣿⣟⠛⠿⠿⠷⢶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣦⡀⠀⢀⣿⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⢿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣴⣶⣾⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣌⠉⠛⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣟⠿⠆⠙⢿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⢿⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⡟⠋⠉⣉⣉⣭⣭⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⣻⣿⣿⠷⠀⠘⣿⠈⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⣿⣿⣶⡾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣾⡿⠿⣿⣦⣶⡀⠙⢿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣶⣾⣿⣋⢠⣶⣿⠟⠛⠉⢩⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣶⣶⣶⣀⠀⠘⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⢿⣷⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣷⣦⣝⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣟⡁⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠻⠿⣿⣯⣼⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⢫⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣆⡀⠈⠉⢻⣿⣤⣾⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⡇⠀⠈⢻⣷⣾⡿⠀⠀⠈⣻⣷⣶⠆⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠃⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣤⣠⣴⣶⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣿⣷⣼⣃⣀⣀⡀⠀⣴⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⢀⣴⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⣠⣼⡿⠏⠁⠀⣀⣴⣿⡟⠀⢀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢛⣻⣿⣿⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣴⣶⣾⣟⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⠿⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⢷⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩⬛⬛🟥🟩🟩🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥⬛⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟩🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛⬛🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧🟧🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧🟧🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🏻🏻 🏻⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥⬛⬛🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛🏽🏽⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛🏽⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛🟩⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛⬜⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻
👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓████████▓▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▓████▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓ ▒▒▓██████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒ ▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒█▓█████▓▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒████▓▒▒▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▓████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓▒▒██▓▒▒▓███████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▓███▓██████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒██▓▓▓▓▒▒▓████▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▒▒▓██▓▓▓▒▓██▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓██▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓█▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓███████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓░▒█▓██████▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒░░░▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓█▓▓█▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓█░░██▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒░░░▒█▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒░░░▓░█▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓░░▒▓░░█▓▓█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒░█░░░░▓█▓▓█▓░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓█▒█░░░░░▓▓█▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓█▒░░░░░█░░██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓█▒░░░▓▒░░░░▒████▓▓▓███▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓█▓▓▒▒▓█░░▓░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓░░░░░░█░░░▒██▓▒▒▒▒▓████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▒▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▓▓▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓██▒░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒▒▒██████▒░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▓███████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█████▓▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░▒▒▒▓███▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓█████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░▒▓░░░░▒▓██████▓▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▒██▓██▓░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░▓█████▓▓▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▓█▓▒░░░░░░░▓██▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░▒▓████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓███▓▒░░░░▒███▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░▒▓███▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓░░░▓███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓███▓▒░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▒▓███▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓██▓▒░░░░░░░░▓█████▓▒▒▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓███▓░░░░░░▒████▓░░░░░░░▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓███▓░░▒█████▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▓█▓████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓████▒░░░░░▒░░░░▒▓▓▒░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███▓█▒░░░░▒▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▒▓█▒░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▒░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓█▓▒▒▓▓█▓▓▓▒▓█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▓▒░▓▓▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░▒█▓▓█▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▓▒░▓▓▓▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒█▓▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▓▒░▓▒░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒░▓▒░░▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓█▒█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█▓▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▒▓▒░░▓▒░▓██▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▓██▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓██▓▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒██▓█████▓▒▒▓▓░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓███▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒█▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓██▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒▒▒▒████▓▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▓█▓█▓▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▒▓▓██▓▒▓▓█▓▒▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
⣾⠿⣦⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⣴⠿⣷ ⢹⣷⣿⠿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠿⣿⣾⡏ ⠈⠋⢻⣶⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⣶⡟⠙⠁ ⠀⠀⠘⢿⣧⣬⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣥⣼⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⡟⠙⣷⡀⣀⣀⢀⣾⠋⢻⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡶⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢶⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠋⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣦⠀⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣾⣷⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⣾⡏⠉⢹⣿⣿⡏⠉⢹⣷⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠸⣧⠀⠘⠻⠟⠃⠀⣼⠇⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠙⢷⣦⣤⣤⣴⡾⠋⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠐⠟⠙⠷⢶⣦⣤⣤⣶⠶⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀
Best PLANKBOB Episodes Season 1 10b "F.U.N." 15a "Sleepy Time" 16a "Valentine's Day" Season 6 109b "The Krabby Kronicle" 122b "Single Cell Anniversary" Season 7 137a "One Coarse Meal" 139a "Gramma's Secret Recipe" 141b "The Main Drain" Season 8 168b "Fiasco!" 177b "Move It or Lose It" The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water Season 9 198b "CopyBob DittoPants" 203a "Pineapple Invasion" Season 10 207a "Mimic Madness" 207b "House Worming" 209b "Plankton Gets the Boot" 210b "Burst Your Bubble" 228b "Grandmum's the Word" 230b "Bottle Burglars" 232b "Shopping List" 235a "Plankton Paranoia" 238b "Karen's Virus" The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge on the Run Season 12 246a "Plankton's Old Chum" 254-255 "SpongeBob's Big Birthday Blowout" 259a "The Ghost of Plankton" 259b "My Two Krabses" 264a "Plankton's Intern" Season 13 272 "SpongeBob's Road to Christmas" 284a "The Flower Plot" 285a "Delivery to Monster Island" 289a "My Friend Patty" Season 14 294a "Single-Celled Defense" 305b "Sheldon SquarePants"
ᴴᵒᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ⁱˢ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵘᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ⁱⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˡˡ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁿⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵉˡˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᴳᵃʳʸ‧‧‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ‽" ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᴵ‧‧‧" ᔆᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖᵘʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴺᵉˢᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵘʳˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒʷ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵒᵘᵗˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢˡᵉᵖᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵘᵖ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ‧ "ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ!" ᴳᵃʳʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱʳ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃᵗ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵐᵃʸ ᵒʳ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ "ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰᵉʳᵒᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵍᵘʸˢ‧‧‧" ᵂʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᵖᵉʳ ᵐᵉʳᵐᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵃᶜˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵃ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ⁿᵒ ᵛⁱˡˡᵃⁱⁿˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉʳᵒᵉˢ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ʳᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵍʳᵃᵗⁱᵗᵘᵈᵉ ᵒʳ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᵃ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ!
› ❝ ʸᵒᶸ ᵈᵒᶰ’ᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ʷᵸᵃᵗ ᶥᵗ’ˢ ᶫᶥᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᶫᵒˢᵉʳ… ❞ ‹
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⢄⠀⠀⣄⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⢠⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣎⢸⣿⡿⠳⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢠⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢋⣿⣿⠉⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠺⢷⣿⣿⣥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⣾⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠂⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠀⣼⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⢸⣿⣿⠁⠃⠀⠀⠀⠸⠁⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢀⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣠⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⢰⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡶⠶⠛⠋⠛⠛⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠟⠁⠀⣾⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠘⣷⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡿⠇⠀⠹⣧⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⢷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡆⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⣄⠀⠀⠀⣠⠶⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠋⢁⣿⠅⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠘⢯⣷⣾⣃⣀⣹⣯⣭⣭⣯⣭⣝⣓⣐⡀⢷⡀⠈⣿⣷⣼⠀⠀⡆⡯⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠃⠀⠀⠀⢨⣷⡄⠈⣿⡦⠤⠤⠤⠼⠷⠾⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢼⣿⠇⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⢠⣷⡷⣟⣿⣶ ⠀⠀⢀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢿⠀⢹⠙⢧⣀⠀⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⢀⣤⠞⠃⠀⣽⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣟⠻⣿⠋ ⠀⠠⠚⢰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠓⠒⠶⠶⠒⢛⣡⠄⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢸⡏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⢶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠒⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⠀⠐ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣌⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣯⣄⣀⣠⣄⣄⣄⣀⣠⡿⣸⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠿⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠾⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⢁⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⡟⢸⡇⢠⢴⣶⣶⠈⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⡆⠀⡇⢸⣧⣿⢀⣿⡟⡆⣿⣿⡙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠀⠐⣷⢿⣻⣿⠾⠏⠀⠈⢾⣿⣿⡙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠻⠄⢀⣿⡶⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣯⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⣦⣄⡛⠛⠛⠛⢛⣛⣵⠾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢮⡳⣍⠙⠓⢮⣽⣉⣙⣋⣹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣬⣛⠶⢤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠻⠶⠧⠼⠬⠯⢽⣿⣿⣮⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡺⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⡏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣎⠻⣿⡗⠶⠒⢦⡄⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⣠⡮⣭⣭⣭⡤⠴⢶⣛⡿⠤⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▓▒▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▒▒▓███████████▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒░░░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░▓▓ ░▓░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▒▒▓▓░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓██████▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░ ▒█▓▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ █▓▓▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓▓▓▓████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▓█▓▒▒▒▒████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ██▓██████▓▒▒▒▓██▒▒████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ████████████████▓▒█████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓████▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒ ░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓████████▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒░░▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓███████████▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓██████████▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓██████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▓▓█████████▓▓▓▓ █████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▒▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒██▓▓█████▓▓███▓▓▓▓ ██████████▓▓███▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▒█████████████▒▒▒████▓▓███▓▓▓▓ █████████▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓▓▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓█████▒███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓███████▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▓▓▓█▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓ █▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓ ██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▓▓██▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒ █████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓██▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒██▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒░▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓███▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░▒▒░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓██▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▓▓██▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▒░░░░░░▒▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▒░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░▒▒░▒░░░░▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓▒░▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓░▒▓▓░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░▒▒▒░▒▓██▓▒░░▒▒▓██▓▓█████▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒████▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▓███████████▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░▒▓░░░░░░▒░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓█▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓█▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▓▓██▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
‘Yᴏᴜ ʙʟᴀsᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴀʀɴᴀᴄʟᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ!’
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████▓▓███████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒████████▓░▒▒░▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▓▒▓████▓░▒████▓▒▒▓███▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▓█████████████▓████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓███████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▓██▓▒░░░░▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▓░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░█▓░░░░░██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░▓██▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░░░▓█░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒░░░██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░▒███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░▒██▒░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓░░░▓█▓░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█░░░██░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░▓█░░░░░░░░░░█▓░░░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░▓█░░░░░▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▒░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓░░▓█░░░░░██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓█▒░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒░▒█▒░░░░▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▓█░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░▓██▓░░░▓█░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓██░░░░█▓░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░▓█▓░░░░░░▓█░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░█▓░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓██▒░░▒██▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▓░░░░░▒█▓░░░░█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░▓█▒░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓▒░░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░▒█▓█▓▓█▒▓█░▒█▒░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█░░▓█▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓░▒▓░▒▒▒▓▓█▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░▒██▒▓█▒▓██▓█░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███▓█▓▒██▒██▓███▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░▓█████▓▓▓░░░░░░░░▓█████▓▓▒░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓████▓░░░░▒█▓▒█▓████▓░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓████████████████████▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓░░░░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓██████▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████ ███████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒█████████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████████ ██████████████████████████████▓▒▒▓███████▒▒▒▒▓█████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████ ████████████████████████▓▒▓█▒▓▒▒▓███████▒░▒▓▓▓▒▓████▒▒▒▒▓██████▓▒▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████ ███████████████████████▓▒█▓▓█▓▒▓███████▓▒░▓██▒░▓███▒░▒▓▒▒▓███████▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓█▓▓▓█████████████████████ ███████████████████████▒▒▓█▓▓▒▒████████▓▒▓███▒▒▓██▓▒▒▓██▒░▒███████▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████ ██████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓████████▒░▓██▓░▒▓██▓▒▒███▓▒████████▓▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒██████████████████████ ██████████████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒█████▓▒██▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓███▒░▒██▓░▒████████▓▒▒█▒▒▓▓▓▓██████████████████████ ██████████████████████▓▒▒▒▓█▓▒█████▒░▒▓█▓▒▒▒▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▓████████▓▒▒█▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓█████████████████ ███████████████████████▒▒▒▓█▓▒██████▒░▒▓▓██████████▓▓▒▓███▓▒░▓████▓▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▓██▒▓▒▓█████████████████ █████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▒▓███████▓▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓████▓▒░▒▓█████▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓█████████████████ █████████████████████████████▒▒████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒████████▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓█████████████████ █████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▓▒▓█▓███▓▓▒▓██████████████████ ███████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓███████████████████████▒▒▒█▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▒███████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓▓████▓▓▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒██████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▒░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒█████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒█████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▓█████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▓█████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓██▓▒▒▓█████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒██▓▒▒██████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒██▓▒▒██████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▒▓██▒▒▓█▓▒▒██████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒▒▓██▒▒▓█▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▓█▒░▓██████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓███▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒█████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████▒▒▓▒▒▓███▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒████▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▒▒████▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▓▒▓██▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓███████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒█▓▒▒▓▓▒▒█████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒█████▓▒▒▒█████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒█████▓▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▓██████▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▓██████▒▒▒▒████████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒███████▓▒▒▒████████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒███████▓▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒███████▓▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████ ████████████████▓▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▒████████████████████████████ ██████████████▓░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█████████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████ ███████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
"Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wide with excitement. Wednesday sat quietly in the corner of the room, her black dress blending into the shadows. She didn't look up from her book, her finger marking her place. "I don't think so," she said, her voice calm and measured. Enid pouted, her cheerleader's spirit momentarily dampened. "But it's the prom dance, Wednesday. Everyone's going to be there!" Wednesday closed her book with a soft thud and looked up, her gaze piercing through Enid's hopeful facade. "I see your enthusiasm, but crowded social gatherings are not my idea of fun." Enid sighed, understanding that pushing the issue would lead nowhere. She sat down next to her friend, her own excitement dimming. "I know, I know. But it's our senior year. It's like, a rite of passage or something." Wednesday's eyes remained on the closed book in her lap. "I'd prefer to pass on that particular rite." Enid leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "But it's the perfect place to observe human behavior. Think of it as an anthropological study." Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly at the thought. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "But I'll need to establish some ground rules." Enid clapped her hands together. "Of course! What do you need?" Wednesday thought for a moment before listing her conditions. "First, no slow dancing. Second, I control the music playlist. Third, I wear what I want." Enid nodded eagerly. "Deal! I'll handle the first two. And as for the third, I trust your impeccable taste." Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "My taste is not up for debate, nor is it the issue. It's the school's dress code that requires negotiation." Enid's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Leave that to me," she said, already texting away on her phone. Within minutes, she had secured a meeting with the principal to discuss "alternative fashion choices" for the prom. As the big night approached, Enid sent Wednesday a playlist of dark, rhythmic tunes that she had carefully curated. Each song was a masterpiece of gothic rock, a genre that she knew would resonate with her friend's soul. Meanwhile, Wednesday had been busy designing the perfect dress —a long, flowing gown of midnight black with intricate white lace that looked like it had been plucked from a Victorian mourning ceremony. She had paired it with her favorite black boots and a choker necklace adorned with a single crimson rose. The day of the prom, Enid couldn't contain her excitement. She bustled into the room, her own outfit a vibrant mix of neon colors that seemed to glow in the dim light of the Addams' mansion. "Wednesday, you have to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the urgency of a child who had just discovered a secret treasure. Wednesday set down her scalpel, which she had been using to dissect a particularly interesting spider, and followed Enid upstairs. The dress laid out on her bed was indeed a sight to behold. It was a macabre symphony of black taffeta and delicate lace, the skirt adorned with a pattern of thorny vines that looked like they could draw blood with a single brush. The bodice hugged her slender frame, the neckline plunging just low enough to hint at the darkness beneath. "It's... " she began, searching for the right word. "Awful," Enid offered, her tone teasing. Wednesday smirked. "Perfect," she corrected, her voice laden with approval. "It's perfect."
"We removed Plankton's wisdom teeth. He's still asleep, you can stay with him." Said the oral surgeon to Karen. They've just finished and lead Karen into the room. Plankton is lying in the hospital bed, his face a mask of peace, the only signs of the recent surgery being the gauze in his mouth and the drool seeping out the side. His cheeks are slightly swollen, and she wonders when he'll wake up. The doctor said it could take a while. The IV line snakes up his arm. Karen pulls a chair up beside the bed. She takes his hand and holds it gently, feeling the warmth of his skin contrast with the coolness of her own palm. The room is sterile, the air conditioning humming steadily in the background. The faint smell of disinfectant fills the space. She looks around the room, noticing the monitors beeping in rhythm with Plankton's breathing and heart rate. The nurse comes in and checks the machines, making a few quiet notes on a clipboard. She smiles at Karen, "He's doing well. Just let him sleep. It's the best thing right now." Karen nods, squeezing Plankton's hand slightly, willing him to feel her presence. She wonders what dreams he's having, if any, behind his closed lid. Time seems to crawl as Karen watches him sleep. She tries to read a book, but the words blur together. Her thoughts drift to their lives before this moment, their shared laughter, their arguments, the quiet moments of understanding. Her gaze lingers on his swollen cheeks, his chest rising and falling with each breath. A soft groan escapes his lips and his eye begins to flutter open. Slowly, Plankton comes to, his vision blurred by the anesthesia's last hangover. He blinks, trying to focus on Karen's face. She sets aside her book and smiles at him, her screen welcoming him back to the world of the conscious. "Hi," she says softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton makes a sound that's somewhere between a whine and a grunt. His eye wanders the room before finally settling on hers. "What...what happened?" he slurs, the words barely audible through the gauze. Karen's smile widens a bit. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, remember?" He nods slightly. The nurse reappears, checking his vitals again with a gentle touch. "Time to go home," she says, removing the gauze. They make their way out of the hospital, Karen supporting Plankton gently as he stumbles, his legs still wobbly from the anesthesia. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Karen helps Plankton into the car, buckling him in and adjusting the seat so he can lean back and rest. He nods off almost immediately, his breathing evening out as the car starts and they pull away from the hospital. The drive home is quiet, Plankton's snores punctuating the hum of the engine. Karen keeps glancing over, checking on him, her concern etched into every line on her screen. The pain medication is strong, keeping him in a half-awake state. Each time he wakes, he looks around, disoriented, before his eye finds hers and his expression relaxes. Once they arrive, Karen guides him to the couch, his body feeling heavier than ever before. He slumps into the cushions and she grabs the ice pack from the cooler. "Hold this to your cheeks," she instructs, placing the cold compress against his skin. He nods obediently, his eye already glazing over with the promise of sleep. The TV flickers on, its blue light washing over the room. Karen finds a sitcom they both enjoy, hoping the familiar laughter will ease his pain and keep them both company. But Plankton's snores soon overpower the TV's audio, his head lolling to the side. She smiles, knowing he's in a deep slumber, and covers him with a blanket. The house is eerily quiet except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Karen moves around the kitchen, preparing a soft meal for when he wakes, her mind racing with thoughts of what the next few days will be like. Plankton's recovery will be slow, but she's ready to take care of him. She's his rock, his support, and she'll do anything to help him feel better.
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓█▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒█▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒░▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▓░▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒██▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓██▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▓▓▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒███▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▓██░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░▓▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░▓▓█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░█▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▓█▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒░░░▓██▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░█▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░█▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░█▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▓▒░░░░░░ ░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░ ░░░░░░ ░░░░░▓█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒░█░░░░ ░░░▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒░ ░░▒▒░░ ░▒░░░░░▒█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒░▓▒░░ ░▓█▓░░▓█░░██▒░▒██▒░▒█▓░░▓█▓░░█░░░ ░░░█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▓░ ░█▒░▓▓▓█▒▒█▒░░░░██░█▓░ ░▓█░░█░░ ░█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░▒▒░ ░██░░░▒█▓░█▓░░░▒██░██▒░░▒██░░█░░ ░▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░▒▒░ ░▒█████▓░░▒█████▓░░░▓█████░░▒█▓░ ░█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒░▓▒░░ ░░░░ ░░░░ ░░░░ ░░░░ ░░░█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒░▒█░░░ ░░░░ ░░░░ ░░░░ ░░░░░░░░█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒██████████▒░░▒▒▒░▒█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒░▒▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓██████████████▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▓▓████████▒▒▓▓▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒█░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▓░░░░░░▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█░▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░░▓░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░██░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓█▓▓█▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▓▓▓▓█▒░░▒▒▒▒░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒░▒▒░░█▓▓█▓█▓█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓█▒░▒█▓▓▓░▒░▓▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒░░▒░░▓▓▓▒░░█▓█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒█▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▒▒▒███▓░░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░█▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▓█▒▒▓▓▒▒▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▒▒▓███████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░▒▓▓▓██▒█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▓██▒▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░▒░░▒▒▓▓█▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓█▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓█▒▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓█▒▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓█▒▒▒▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓░▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒█░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓░▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓██▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▓▓░░░░░░▓▓▒▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▓░░░░░░▒▓▒█░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓█▒▓▓▓▒▒░█▒█░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒█▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒████▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░
😍🦠🦠🦠😍
#🧪 || ᵒᶰˡʸ ᵃᵍᵍʳᵉˢˢᶤᵛᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᶜᵒᶰᵠᵘᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈᵎ || ‎‍🧪
⋆₊‧꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ଳ.𖥔 ݁ ˖
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠤⡤⠀⣤⡤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠊⠑⠀⠀⠁⢀⡀⠀⠀⡀⠉⠒⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⡞⠱⠂⣀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⠳⠆⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠁⡆⠀⡀⢔⡢⣛⢮⠳⣂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠤⠤⠤⠤⢄ ⠈⢆⠀⠀⠔⠱⡪⠄⣃⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⢀⡠⠤⠟⠒⠒⢋⣉⣉⣹⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⣔⡾ ⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⡇⡀⠸⡌⢷⣀⡸⠐⠋⠁⠀⢀⠤⡒⢉⡃⠤⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⠲⣟⡨⠕⠊⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠤⢡⠻⣄⠜⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠞⠚⠛⢅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠒⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠋⠁⠀⠀⢀⡤⡖⠋⢁⡠⠤⠒⢀⡸⠀⠀⣀⣀⠠⠤⠐⠒⡆⠁⠀⣀⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠉⠀⠸⡏⣀⡶⠶⠿⡷⠶⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠶⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⢀⡴⢋⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⢠⠃⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠰⡯⣀⣤⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡑⠆⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣥⡀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⡧⠤⠤⠐⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢟⡈⣲⠁⠀⡇⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠁⠀⠀⢀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠯⣁⡠⠔⡇⠀⠀⠈⠓⠶⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡼⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠠⠤⠤⠤⠤⡤⠕⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢚⠖⠒⠂⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
░▀▄░░▄▀ ▄▄▄██▄▄▄▄▄░▀█▀▐░▌ █▒░▒░▒░█▀█░░█░▐░▌ █░▒░▒░▒█▀█░░█░░█ █▄▄▄▄▄▄███══════
⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⠿⣿⡿⠿⣿⠿⢿⣿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⠀⣴⣶⣿⡇⠀⣶⠀⢸⣿⠀⡀⢹⣿⠀⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢸⡏⠀⢹⡇⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⣦⠀⣿⣶⠀⢰⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⠀⠙⠛⣿⡇⠀⠛⢤⣼⣿⠀⣷⠸⡇⢸⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⡇⢰⢸⡇⢸⣿⠀⠈⠉⠀⣿⡿⠀⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⡀⠃⣾⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠃⣾⠘⠃⣸⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠿⠀⢿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣀⣉⣉⣹⣇⣀⣿⣀⣸⣿⣀⣿⣇⣀⣿⣇⣸⣿⣉⣿⣏⣙⣿⣉⣻⣿⣀⣀⣿⣀⣀⣿⣿⣀⣸⣿⣀⣿⣇⣰⣶⣀⣸⣿⣀⣸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡟⢿⡟⠻⠟⠛⠻⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⡛⠻⡟⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⢇⣄⣶⣦⣀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣇⢰⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣳⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⡿⠋⣠⣑⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⢷⠟⠁⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠈⠑⣆⠄⢐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢮⣡⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⡽⠛⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡚⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣀⣱⣀⣘⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣳⣠⠴⠒⠂⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠲⢴⡀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣏⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠫⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠎⠑⠢⣤⣀⣀⣀⡤⢤⠖⡙⢧⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⠟⡞⢰⣄⣼⡄⠉⡛⠁⠀⡈⣀⡀⠘⠙⡿⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⠂⣿⣼⢿⠿⠿⠿⠶⠿⠿⠟⢿⡦⠀⠀⡐⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡹⣷⣽⣿⣷⣽⣤⣶⣤⢥⣀⡈⡀⣰⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⠝⠝⠛⠉⠉⠉⠙⠏⠍⠂⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⠿⣿⡿⢿⣿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣷⡆⠀⣾⣿⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⡇⠠⣦⣀⣿⠇⢰⡆⠀⣿⡇⢰⡄⢹⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⢻⣿⣿⠁⣴⡄⢸⣿⠀⣶⡄⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⣉⡁⢸⣿⠀⠘⢛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠈⠻⣿⠀⢸⣿⣶⣿⡇⢸⡇⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⠛⠃⣸⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠹⣷⠀⣿⡀⢸⡏⠉⣿⠃⠙⠃⠸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣧⣤⣿⣿⣤⣿⣧⣼⣿⣤⣤⣤⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣀⣤⣿⣧⣄⣀⣴⣿⣤⣿⣧⣤⣿⣤⣤⣤⣿⣤⣤⣤⣿⣦⣀⣠⣾⣿⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣟⡩⢒⠥⡚⡔⢣⡃⢞⡰⡱⢪⡑⢮⡑⢎⡜⢭⢛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣽⣾⣟⣾⢿⣻⣷⣿⣽⣾⣿⢯⣷⣿⣟⣾⣷⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⣻⣿⣳⣿⢷⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣽⡿⣽⣻⣿⣻⣇⢆⢣⡍⢲⢩⠜⡥⢚⢆⠳⣡⠳⡜⢦⡙⠖⣌⢣⠎⣍⢣⠓⡬⢩⠝⡛⠿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⣾⣷⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣾⢿⣟⣿⡷⣿⣻⣾⢿⣿⣻⣯⣿⣿⣾⢷⣻⣽⡿⣷⣿⣳⣿⣻⣿⣻⣽⡷⣿⣻⢯⣿⣟⣯⣷⣿⣶⣮⣶⣘⠥⢎⡜⡰⢋⣌⠳⣄⠳⡘⢦⡙⡜⢬⠒⡍⢦⡙⣬⣱⣃⣮⣱⡛⣤⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⣷⣿⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡿⣿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⢿⣻⣿⣯⣷⡿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣽⡿⣽⣷⣿⣻⣿⣟⣯⣿⢿⣳⣿⢷⣟⣷⡿⣯⣿⢿⣽⣻⣽⣾⢿⣳⣿⡾⣽⣻⡿⣿⣷⣾⣥⣇⣎⠱⣌⢣⡙⢦⡑⡚⢆⣯⠼⠚⠉⠉⠁⠉⠈⠉⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⡭⠽⣋⡽⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣾⢿⣷⣿⣿⢿⣻⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⣻⡿⣷⡿⣷⣿⡿⣽⣿⢾⣿⣽⣿⣽⣟⣯⣷⣿⣻⣽⣿⣻⣽⣿⣻⣾⢿⣽⡾⣿⡽⣯⡷⣟⡿⣽⡷⣿⣟⡷⣿⣽⣟⣾⣟⣿⣻⣿⣶⣷⣼⣢⣱⡽⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠘⣿⣯⣿⣿⣟⡖⢣⣼⣿⠖⡢⢍⡙⣛⠻⠿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣾⡿⣽⣿⣽⡿⣷⣿⢿⣽⡿⣯⣿⢯⣿⡾⣿⣽⣾⢿⣽⡾⣯⣷⡿⣯⣟⣯⣷⡿⣯⢿⣷⣻⢯⣿⢿⣽⢷⣯⣟⣷⡿⣽⣻⡾⣽⣳⣯⢿⡾⣽⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⣻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⢻⣿⢾⣿⣿⣷⣏⡟⢦⡙⠴⢡⠚⡤⢋⠖⡰⠌⡍⣛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⣷⣿⣻⣟⣷⣿⢿⡿⣽⣟⣯⣿⢿⣽⣿⣳⣿⣟⣷⡿⣯⣷⣿⣟⣷⡿⣿⣽⣳⣯⢿⣟⣿⢾⡽⣿⣞⣿⢾⣟⣾⡽⣾⣽⣻⢷⣻⣯⣟⡾⣿⣽⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠠⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣞⠤⡙⢆⢣⢣⡘⢥⠊⡵⣘⠐⠦⡙⢒⠴⢨⢉⡛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⣻⣽⣾⡿⣿⣟⣾⣯⢿⣟⣿⡾⣟⣷⣯⢿⣽⣿⣳⣿⣞⣯⢿⡷⣿⣻⣞⣯⢿⣞⡿⣽⣳⣟⣾⣻⣞⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⣯⣷⣟⡾⣽⣳⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠤⢷⣤⢢⣿⣻⣿⣿⢾⡽⣿⣳⠩⡜⢢⠒⡜⢢⡙⡰⠌⢎⡱⣉⠲⡘⣂⠧⣈⢓⠢⡐⠤⣉⠛⠻⢿⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣻⣾⣿⣳⣯⣿⣻⣽⢿⣾⣟⣯⣷⡿⣟⣷⣻⣯⢿⡾⣟⣷⣯⢿⣻⡽⣷⢿⣽⣾⣻⣞⡿⣽⢷⣻⣞⡷⣯⣟⣾⣻⢷⣯⢷⣻⢾⣽⣷⢿⡁⢰⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢰⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣿⣷⡿⣿⡿⣯⢿⣽⣏⡗⢬⢡⢋⠬⡑⢤⠣⣙⢢⡑⠤⢃⡕⢢⠱⡌⢢⢃⠥⢃⠆⡩⢥⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣻⣽⣿⣻⣷⣟⣯⣷⡿⣽⣟⣿⣳⣿⣽⣾⣟⡿⣽⣯⡿⣟⣿⣻⢾⡽⣿⣽⣻⣽⣻⣞⣷⣻⣞⡿⣽⢯⣷⢯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣯⣟⡾⣯⣟⣿⡿⢯⣿⡅⣽⠞⠃⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⢆⣽⠀⠀⣄⠀⢰⠀⠁⣾⣿⣷⣻⢯⡿⣽⣻⣾⣿⣾⣦⣇⣎⠴⣉⠆⠳⡄⢣⢌⢃⢎⡘⢤⠓⠬⣁⠎⡰⢉⠆⡱⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣟⣿⣟⣯⣷⣿⣳⡿⣽⣷⡿⣿⣽⡾⣟⣷⣯⣷⣟⣿⣽⡷⣿⣻⢷⡯⣿⣽⣳⢯⡷⣯⢷⣻⣞⡷⣯⢿⣽⣻⣞⡿⣽⣻⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣷⣿⢻⡜⣿⣿⣿⣇⣠⠀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠠⡇⠀⠀⡿⢠⢹⡆⠠⣿⣭⢷⣻⢯⣟⡷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣵⣬⣡⠎⡸⢄⠪⡐⢍⡒⢡⠚⡄⢣⠘⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣟⣾⡿⣾⣟⣷⣯⣷⢿⣟⣷⣿⣻⣞⣿⣟⣯⣷⣟⣾⣟⣾⡽⣷⢯⡿⠇⠤⣉⢙⡛⠿⣽⣯⣟⣾⡽⣯⣟⣾⣳⢯⣟⣷⣻⢾⣽⣻⣾⣿⢳⡝⣮⡝⣶⢻⣿⣿⣿⣈⣸⡇⠀⠀⡀⢰⡏⢀⣤⣿⣶⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣻⢾⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣟⣾⡿⣟⣿⣻⣿⣿⣷⣮⣵⣈⣆⠸⡁⢎⠰⢡⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣞⣿⣳⣿⢯⣿⢷⣻⡾⣟⡿⣾⢷⣟⡿⣾⣽⣻⢾⡽⣾⡽⣾⢽⣻⣏⠡⡘⠰⣀⠣⣘⠐⡆⠤⣉⠛⠻⢷⣟⡶⣯⣟⣾⣳⢯⣟⣾⣽⠿⣜⢧⣻⡶⢿⣛⣿⣜⣧⣛⠿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣣⢟⢶⣻⢿⣿⡿⣯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⣿⣳⣿⢿⣽⣿⢿⣿⣻⣽⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣮⣴⣳⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣯⢿⣟⣷⣿⣳⡿⣽⣻⣯⣿⣟⣿⣻⣽⣟⡿⣯⣿⣳⢯⣟⣯⢿⣳⢿⣭⣿⠇⠢⣅⢩⠒⣄⠣⣄⠫⠔⡱⢠⠍⡱⠢⠌⣍⠛⠾⠷⣯⣟⣾⡿⣏⠿⣞⣿⣷⡟⠋⢩⡟⠀⢩⡟⢿⣭⢟⣻⣛⡟⣯⡝⣿⡹⣝⢮⣳⢫⣿⢯⡿⣽⣻⢷⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣿⢾⣿⣽⡿⣯⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿ ⣿⣟⣯⣿⣞⣷⡿⣟⣿⡽⣷⡿⣞⣿⣽⢾⣯⢿⣽⣳⣯⢿⣞⣯⢿⡽⡯⢟⢠⢊⠱⡀⢆⠱⢂⡱⢂⠱⢊⡔⠣⡌⢅⢣⢑⢢⢉⠲⢡⠢⣽⡿⣱⢏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣴⣿⣇⣰⣿⠁⢈⣿⣺⣵⣏⢾⡱⣞⡵⣛⣾⢣⣿⡿⣯⡿⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣟⣯⣿⣟⣾⡿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣟⣾⣟⣷⣿⣿⣿⣻⣷⣿⡿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⣽⣾⣻⢷⣟⣿⡽⣟⣯⣟⡿⣾⣽⢯⣟⡿⣾⡽⣾⣻⣽⢾⣯⣟⣿⣶⣦⣌⣢⠑⡌⢢⡑⠤⢃⠥⡃⠬⡱⠨⠜⢢⢍⠢⢃⠥⢃⣾⡟⡵⣯⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⠻⣟⣯⣿⢎⡷⣹⢞⣵⣯⣿⣿⣟⣷⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣳⡿⣯⣿⣻⣽⡿⣟⣿⣽⣷⣿⢿⣻⣯⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿ ⣿⣟⣿⣳⢿⣻⣾⢯⣿⣻⣽⣞⣿⣳⣯⢿⣽⣻⢷⣻⢷⣻⣞⡿⣾⡽⣞⡷⣯⢿⡽⣿⢶⣧⣜⣄⢃⡒⡉⠦⡑⢣⢙⠢⢌⠣⣉⢲⣿⢯⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣟⣿⣽⢞⡵⣫⢞⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⣻⣽⣾⢿⣽⣟⣷⢿⣻⣿⣟⣯⣿⣾⢿⡿⣿⣽⣷⡿⣯⣿⣟⣿⣽⣾⣟⣷⣿⣻⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣽⣟⡿⣾⣻⣽⢾⣯⡿⣽⣻⡽⣯⣟⣾⣽⣻⣞⡿⣞⣯⣟⡷⣯⢷⣻⢷⣻⣞⡷⣯⢾⣽⣻⢿⡾⣥⣇⣤⠓⡌⠜⢢⠘⡤⢋⣾⡟⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣭⣽⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⡞⣵⢫⣾⣿⣿⢻⣿⣯⣿⣿⡿⣿⡽⣯⢿⣽⣻⣞⡿⣽⡿⣾⢿⣽⡿⣟⣯⣿⣞⣷⡿⣟⣿⡷⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣽⡾⣟⣷⣟⣾⣻⢾⣽⢯⣷⣻⢷⣯⣟⣾⣳⢯⡿⣽⢾⣽⣻⡽⣯⢿⣽⣳⢯⣟⣷⡻⣮⣟⡽⣏⡿⢾⣹⣟⡾⣮⣥⣚⢰⣿⡻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣶⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡝⣾⣱⣿⢿⡟⣬⢻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⣳⢿⣽⣻⣞⡷⣯⢿⣻⣽⣯⣿⣾⣿⣻⣽⣾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡾⣽⡿⣽⢾⣳⣟⡿⣞⣿⣳⣟⡿⣾⡽⣾⣽⣻⡽⣯⣟⣾⣳⢿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⣷⣻⢷⣏⣿⣹⣽⣻⢷⡯⣽⣳⢯⣿⣿⡳⣽⣿⡿⢿⣿⣡⣾⢷⣦⣿⠛⣿⣯⣿⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⢾⣵⣿⢻⠶⣝⡼⣯⢿⡿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⣷⢿⣻⣿⢿⣯⣷⡿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣟⣯⢿⣽⣻⣽⡾⣿⡽⣞⣷⢯⣟⣷⣻⢷⣯⢷⣻⢷⣻⢾⣽⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⣽⣻⣞⣧⣟⡾⣽⠾⣽⣳⢯⣿⡿⣣⣟⣽⡟⢁⣼⡿⣝⣾⣽⣷⡟⣧⣾⣩⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢾⣻⡿⣏⡟⣮⣙⢿⣞⡿⣗⠼⡌⣍⠛⠿⣷⣿⣾⢿⣽⣾⣿⢿⣯⣿⣷⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣟⣯⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣻⢾⣟⣾⢯⣷⣻⢷⣻⣽⣾⣻⣽⣞⣿⠿⣞⣯⣟⣯⣟⣻⢾⣽⣻⢶⣻⣞⡷⣯⣟⣾⣳⢯⡾⣽⣻⣽⣻⢷⣯⢿⣟⣳⢻⣿⣻⢷⣻⣏⣾⣿⣽⣳⣟⡿⣽⡇⠘⡿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣟⣿⡲⣍⣷⣻⡞⠽⢶⡙⣞⡘⢦⡙⠲⣐⠢⣙⠛⠿⣽⣾⣿⣯⣷⣿⣷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢯⣿⣞⣯⣿⣳⢿⣯⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣟⢛⡰⠌⡍⡹⠞⢯⣟⣿⣲⢯⣟⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⢾⡽⣯⣟⡷⣽⢾⣽⡟⣿⣿⡹⣎⠿⣿⣿⡿⣟⡾⣯⣿⣟⣿⣹⣿⢼⡇⢠⣿⠋⢻⣿⢿⣟⣾⡿⣽⢾⣷⣎⢿⣷⠙⣎⢱⡹⢆⡙⢦⢩⡑⢢⠱⣈⠍⡲⣐⠢⢍⡙⠻⠿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣟⣷⣻⣞⣷⣻⣟⣾⣽⣞⡷⣯⣷⠐⠦⡑⡜⠠⡅⡙⢦⡘⣌⢛⠻⢾⣷⣻⢾⡵⣯⢿⣽⣳⢯⡿⣽⣿⢏⣾⣿⢣⡟⣼⣛⢶⣣⢟⡼⣿⡻⣏⣾⡷⣭⣿⢾⣟⣻⠃⠀⣸⠣⣼⣯⢿⡽⣯⣿⣿⣿⠎⡼⣉⠦⢣⠜⣢⠙⣆⠣⡜⡡⢒⡌⡒⢅⠦⡉⢆⠬⣑⡑⢢⠌⣙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣽⡾⣿⡽⣾⢷⣯⣷⣻⣾⠿⠇⡤⢋⠴⡑⢌⡓⢰⡉⠦⠰⡌⢎⡱⢂⠦⣉⢛⠻⢯⣿⡾⣽⢯⡿⣽⣯⠾⠿⠚⠛⠛⡉⠛⠛⡚⠿⠼⣷⣹⢧⣛⢷⣣⢟⣯⣷⣻⣷⡶⢻⣼⣿⢯⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣶⣥⣋⢦⡙⢤⢋⠴⠣⡜⠡⢆⢊⠵⡈⠖⣉⢆⠚⡄⢚⠄⡳⠠⢍⠒⡰⢂⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣳⡿⣷⢿⣻⣯⣟⡾⣷⠿⢇⠱⢌⠂⠦⡑⣊⠜⡰⠘⢆⡓⣌⠒⣌⠱⢂⡱⣈⢣⠒⠤⡩⣽⣛⣫⠍⢠⠊⠄⠡⠘⢠⠐⣁⠒⡈⡐⠐⡠⢉⠙⠺⣧⣛⡞⣿⣽⣶⣣⣼⣿⣿⣟⣯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣷⣟⡿⣿⣿⣷⣧⣮⣘⡱⢌⠓⣌⠒⢢⠉⠞⡠⢊⠖⡨⢅⡚⢄⡋⠦⡑⢄⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢯⣿⣻⣟⣯⡷⣿⣽⣿⣔⡊⠜⣠⢉⠖⡡⢢⠙⣄⢋⠴⣈⠦⡉⠦⡡⠓⣄⠣⢢⡙⣦⣱⡭⠶⢃⣘⠂⠌⡐⠡⠘⣀⠂⠔⣀⠂⢅⠘⡀⠆⣈⠡⢀⡙⢯⡽⣷⣾⣽⣾⣿⣳⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣻⣾⢿⣽⡾⣿⣻⣷⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣷⣾⣤⣙⢢⠙⣢⠑⠣⠜⡰⢂⠜⢢⠑⢆⠩⣌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣟⣷⣯⢿⣽⣟⣷⣻⣞⡿⣿⣿⣶⣬⣆⣑⠢⢍⡐⢪⡐⢂⠖⡉⢖⠡⢋⡄⢳⣿⡟⣷⡶⢜⠂⠦⢀⠌⡐⠠⢁⠒⠠⢈⠒⠠⠘⣀⠒⣈⠐⡀⠒⠠⡐⠠⠙⢯⡽⣯⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⣿⣻⣯⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿⡿⣽⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣭⣁⡣⢌⠣⢌⠱⡈⢆⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⣾⡽⣯⣿⢾⣟⣷⣯⢿⣷⣻⢾⣻⣟⡿⣿⣶⣮⣥⣘⠌⢢⡑⡌⠣⠥⡘⣹⡿⡼⣽⣷⣾⣾⡶⡶⣶⢶⣥⣆⣌⠐⠂⠌⢠⠡⠀⠆⠤⠁⢌⠡⠁⡔⠡⢈⢂⠹⣿⡽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣽⡿⣷⣿⢿⣟⣾⣿⣽⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣬⣂⣱⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣟⡿⣽⡿⣾⣟⣯⡿⣾⣿⣳⣿⣻⣟⣾⢿⣽⢯⡿⣽⢿⣿⣷⣶⣬⣑⢢⡑⠢⢿⣿⣳⣯⣿⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡺⣜⢯⡟⣿⢦⣆⡀⠃⠌⢠⠁⢂⠤⠁⠤⠑⡠⡌⢂⣼⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣻⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣻⣾⢿⣻⣿⣿⣽⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡾⣟⣿⡽⣷⣯⢿⣽⡷⣿⣽⣳⢿⣞⣯⣿⢯⣟⣿⣽⡿⣞⣯⡿⣽⡿⣿⣷⣷⣬⣙⡿⢿⣟⡼⣣⢟⡼⣣⢟⡼⣣⢟⡼⣣⢟⡽⣳⣌⡄⠘⣀⠂⡁⠆⢡⠞⣠⣿⣙⡎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡿⣟⣿⡿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣟⣿⣽⣟⣷⣯⡿⣯⣿⣟⣾⣟⣯⣿⣻⣾⣟⡿⣞⣷⢿⣻⡿⣽⡿⣽⡷⣿⢯⣿⢿⣿⣿⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣧⢻⣽⣿⠿⣶⠀⡡⢋⣴⢻⠴⣻⣼⢳⡞⢬⡙⡛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣯⢿⣾⣻⣷⣯⢿⣯⣷⢿⣻⣾⣟⣾⡽⣷⢿⣻⣿⣽⣻⣯⢿⣿⣽⡿⣽⣻⡿⣯⣿⢿⣿⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⣛⢧⡻⣜⡳⢾⣏⢿⣹⣆⣡⡞⣧⢻⣯⣖⢯⡿⢘⢢⠱⡌⢓⠴⡈⣍⠛⠿⢿⣿⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣽⣿⣳⡿⣷⣻⣯⣷⢿⣻⣟⣷⡿⣯⣿⣻⣿⣻⡷⣿⣳⣿⣯⣷⣟⡿⣿⣽⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣽⢎⡷⣹⢎⣷⡹⣎⣷⡹⣶⡹⣎⡷⣭⣻⡽⣿⣾⣻⣿⣧⣝⢺⢷⣎⡟⢧⠘⢢⡑⠒⣌⠣⢆⠱⡄⢫⠘⢆⠰⣉⣛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
jellyfish 🐟🐌💧
"You know I hate these early mornings," Plankton grumbled, his eye squinting against the glaring light. Karen, his ever-patient wife, offered a gentle smile, her hand resting firmly on his arm. "It's just a simple procedure," she assured him, as he’s getting his wisdom teeth removed as a preventative measure. The drive to the surgery center was quiet, except for the soft hum of the car's engine and the occasional swipe of the windshield wipers against the rain. Plankton's stomach churned with nerves, his thoughts racing to worst-case scenarios. Karen noticed his grip tightening on the armrest and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Once they arrived, the receptionist's bright smile did little to ease Plankton's anxiety. The waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and mint, a sterile combination that always made him feel somewhat uneasy. They checked in, and Karen filled out the last of the forms while Plankton nervously tapped his foot, watching the clock's second hand move in slow, deliberate marches around the face. With a few moments to spare, Karen discreetly pulled out her phone and started typing a group text to her gal pals, Sandy and Pearl. "Plankton's about to get his wisdom teeth out! 😨🦷💊" she wrote. Her thumb hit send. Sandy's response was almost instant, "Good luck to him! 💪🤞 I'll be thinking of him!" Pearl's message popped up moments later, "Oh no, poor guy! Send us updates, please! 🥺💔" The nurse called Plankton's name, and Karen gave his hand a final squeeze as they followed the nurse to the operating rooml, her thumbs poised over the keyboard of her phone. "Going in now. 🙏💛" The room was cold and clinical, with shiny instruments gleaming in the harsh overhead lights. Plankton's breathing grew shallow as he settled into the chair, the paper crinkling under him like a warning. The anesthesiologist, Dr. Shell, was a kind-faced crab with a gentle demeanor that somehow made Plankton feel slightly less nervous. "This won't hurt a bit," Dr. Shell assured him, placing a mask over Plankton before the iv. "Just breathe deeply and count back from twenty for me." Plankton nodded, his heart racing like a squirrel's in a predator's gaze. He took a deep breath and began to count, his eyes never leaving Karen's. "Twenty...nineteen...eigh-" his voice trailed off as the warm embrace of anesthesia took hold, his eyelid growing heavier by the second. Karen waited until he was fully asleep before sending another text. "He's in! 🛃💤 I'll keep you both posted." She watched as the surgical team went to work, their movements swift and precise. Karen watched the surgery finish and sat with him. He’s still asleep, drooling a bit, but she couldn’t help but smile at his peaceful snores. The nurse nodded her way, indicating everything had gone according to plan. She took a picture of him sleeping to send the gal pals. "Success! 👨‍⚕️💤🦷" she texted, including the photo. "The teeth are out, and Plankton's snoring like a champ!" Sandy's response was swift, "Phew! 😅 That's a relief. How's the little guy holding up?" Karen chuckled softly, typing back, "Out cold, but his snores are music to my ears. 😂🎶" Sandy's response was a symphony of emojis, "🎉🥂 He's gonna be so groggy when he wakes up! Make sure to get some funny videos for our group chat! 📹😂" Karen couldn't help but laugh at the thought of capturing Plankton's post- op antics. She knew her friends would get a kick out of it. The nurse, sensing her amusement, leaned in and whispered, "You'll want to keep an eye on him when the anesthesia wears off. They can get pretty loopy." Karen nodded, her thumbs dancing over the phone's screen. "You bet I will. 😂🎥" she texted back to Sandy. The nurse returned with a small cup of water and a set of instructions. "Here you go. Make sure he sips this slowly once he's ready. And don't let him have any solid foods for a few hours. Just soups and smoothies." Karen nodded, still smiling at the thought of Plankton's impending drowsy adventure. Her phone buzzed again. It was Pearl this time, "Send us the updates! 👀💃" Karen looked down at Plankton, his mouth now swollen and his cheeks still numb as he slept. With a smirk, she sent a quick selfie of the two of them, his mouth open and her thumb up in the background. "Still hasn’t woken up, but I'm ready for the post-op show! 😂🤡" Sandy's reply was, "Oh, the joy of modern medicine. 😂💊👨‍⚕️" The nurse returned with a wheelchair to take Plankton to the recovery area. Karen helped his body sit up, and his head lolled against her shoulder. As they made their way down the hall, his eye still remained closed. Sandy responded to the selfie with a string of laughing emojis and a thumbs up. "You've got this! 😂👍" Pearl's message was a bit more dramatic, "Oh my gosh, he looks like he's been in a battle with a sea serpent and lost! 🐉💨🤕" Karen couldn't help but chuckle, despite her exhaustion from the early morning and the worry. Plankton began to stir as the wheelchair stopped. "We're here," Karen whispered, adjusting his pillow. The nurse helped him into a recliner, and Plankton's eye flickered open, a look of confusion spreading across his face. "Whewe...an...I?" he slurred. Karen held up the cup of water and the nurse nodded. She brought it to his lips, and he took a tentative sip, wincing as the coolness hit his numbed mouth. The sensation was oddly comforting. "Teef...?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice thick with sleep and the aftermath of the procedure. Karen giggled at his speech, snapping another photo of his swollen, goofy smile. She sent it to Sandy and Pearl, adding, "Ahoy there, pirate Plankton! 🏴‍☠️🦷" The responses came flooding in, a river of laughter and well wishes. "Looks like he found the hidden treasure of pain relief! 😂💊💎" Sandy texted. "Send our regards to the tooth fairy for us! 🧚‍♀️💃" Pearl added. Their messages brought a warmth to Karen's heart, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this moment, despite being miles apart from her friends. The nurse left them in the recovery area, the steady beep of monitors and the distant mumble of patients and staff filling the space. Plankton's eye grew heavier, and he drifted back to sleep, snoring gently. Karen, now in charge of documenting Plankton's recovery for their amusement, sent another update. "Pirate Plankton's snoring symphony is in full swing! 🐠💤🎶" This time, the replies from her friends were even faster, their emojis reflecting the comical sight of her husband. Pearl's response was a string of laughter and a band-aid emoji, "Tell him not to talk to the fishes about his treasure lost! 🐠🤐💨" Karen giggled at the thought and leaned in to whisper in Plankton, "You've got fans waiting for your tales of the deep, captain." His snores grew louder, a gentle sea breeze escaping his mouth like a lullaby for the fishes. Her phone vibrated again. Sandy had responded with a series of emojis: "🐠💨💃💃💃" followed by "Make sure he doesn't swipe his treasure map with those souvenir teeth! 🛃💃🐠" Karen couldn't resist playing along, sending a photo of Plankton's teeth, now in a tiny plastic treasure chest, along with the text, "Arrr, he's lost his pearls, but the sea's still got plenty more! 💎🐠🏹" Sandy replied with a row of clapping fish, "What a hero's journey he's had! 🐠👏" and Pearl chimed in with, "Those teeth are now part of the ocean's legend! 🐠💃💃" Karen's phone buzzed again, and she saw that Sandy had sent a meme featuring a lobster with wisdom teeth, holding a tiny pirate flag. "This is too much," she thought, laughing quietly so as not to wake Plankton. She showed him the meme once he began to stir again. His swollen smile grew wider, and he managed a chuckle, his speech still slurred. "Arrr, I'm the king of the sea now, aren't I?" Sandy texted back, "Definitely the king of the dental seas! 🐠👑💃" Pearl sent a GIF of a fish doing a celebratory dance. "Your teeth are now part of the ocean's treasure! 💃💃💃" The playful banter between the friends continued, with each text bringing a little more life to Plankton's droopy eye.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iii (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton feels a wave of self-consciousness crash over him. He's always been different, and now his son is seeing him at his most vulnerable. He doesn't look at Chip, focusing instead on the ceiling above. Chip stares at him, his face a mix of confusion and concern. "Dad, are you o..." But Plankton snaps, cutting his son off with a harsh tone that slices through the tension in the room. "The show's over, Chip; you can leave now!" Chip's eyes widen in shock, his screen flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and hurt. He had never seen his father like this before. Karen intervenes gently. "Chip, your dad's just tired. Why don't you go play in your room for a bit?" Her voice was calm, but there was a firmness that Chip knew meant business. He nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his small shoulders. As he turned to leave, his gaze caught the sadness in his father's eye, a look that seemed to apologize without words. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence was deafening. Chip sat on his bed, his mind racing with thoughts about his father. He knew Plankton was different, but seeing him like that... it was like looking at a robot that suddenly turned off. It was scary, but also fascinating. He had so many questions, but his mother's words echoed in his mind: "Give him some space." He'd have to be extra careful around his dad from now on. Back in their own room, Karen sat beside Plankton, still stroking his arm. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she murmured. "I know it's hard for you." His eye searched hers, filled with a quiet desperation. "It's not your fault," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... sometimes it's too much." Karen's gaze softened, and she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I know," she whispered, her thumb continuing its soothing motion on his arm. "We'll get through it together." Plankton's antennae twitched again, and he took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice still hoarse from his self-imposed silence. "I know it's scary for you, for Chip." Karen's eyes remained on his, filled with love and understanding. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said firmly. "You're doing the best you can." Plankton managed a weak smile, his body slowly starting to uncoil from the tight knot it had formed during his shutdown. Karen's gentle touch was like a warm blanket, wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort. "Thank you, Karen," he whispered, his voice still shaky. "I'm just so tired." Karen nodded, her hand never leaving his arm. "You've had a long day," she said, her voice a soothing balm. "Why don't you rest a bit?" Plankton nodded, his energy depleted. He managed to get himself into a lying position, the bed creaking beneath him. Karen pulled the covers over him, tucking him in. Her voice was a lullaby in the quiet room. "Close your eye, Plankton. Take deep breaths. I'm here." Her hand remained on his arm, her thumb tracing the same comforting pattern. Plankton's breaths grew even, his body slowly relaxing into the mattress. The tightness in his chest eased with each exhale, and his antennae drooped slightly as he succumbed to his body's needs for rest. Karen watched over him, her screen never straying from his face. "Rest, love," she whispered, the words carrying a gentle lilt of reassurance. She knew the battle he faced every day, how hard he tried to fit into a world that didn't quite understand him. She felt a surge of admiration for his strength and resilience.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS ix (By NeuroFabulous) The drive to the dentist was silent, the tension in the air thick. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye on the passing scenery outside the window. "You okay?" Karen asked, her voice soft. She reached over, her hand hovering. Plankton's antennae quivered. "Just... I'd prefer quiet, alone... and no touching," he murmured, his voice tight. "Please, for now." Karen nodded, her hand retreating to the steering wheel. "Okay, Plankton," she said, her voice gentle. "I'll give you space.." The car was a cocoon of quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound to break the silence. Plankton sat in the passenger seat, his body tense, his antennae twitching slightly as he took deep, shaky breaths. Karen knew her husband was trying to prepare himself for the possible onslaught of the dentist's office. When they arrived, Karen parked the car and turned to him. "Ready?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze darting to the bright building ahead. "As ready as I'll ever be," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen nodded, her expression understanding. "Let's go, love," she whispered, reaching for his hand. But Plankton's body tensed, his antennae shooting up. "No touching right now," he murmured, his voice tight. They approached the dental office with slow, measured steps. The bright lights and the smell of antiseptic made Plankton's antennas quiver, but he pushed through, his gaze focused on his wife's calming presence. Inside, the receptionist's cheery greeting was almost too much for Plankton, his antennae twitching erratically. The hum of the office was a cacophony to his sensitive ears, but he took deep breaths, his gaze never leaving the floor. Karen's voice is low and soothing. "It's okay, honey," she murmured. "We're just here for a quick check-up." Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. They take their seats in the waiting room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Each tick of the clock echoes in the silence, a stark contrast to his racing thoughts. He focuses on his breathing, in and out, trying to calm his nerves. Karen notices the way his antennae twitch in agitation, her hand hovering close to his. But he shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. The wait seems eternal, but finally, the hygienist calls Plankton's name. He stands, his antennae quivering slightly. Karen follows him into the room, her eyes scanning the environment for potential triggers. The hygienist, noticing Plankton's discomfort, speaks in a soft, even tone. "Hi, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "I'm Rachel. We're just here to check on the teeth we saw last time. So we're gonna take another x-ray and compare them, okay?" Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. Rachel's gentle touch as she leads him to the chair is almost too much for him. Karen can see the effort it takes for him to stay still, his body tense as a bowstring. The sound of the x-ray machine whirring to life makes Plankton's antennas twitch. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her hand on his shoulder. "It'll be quick, just hold still." Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. Rachel places the film in his mouth, the cold metal sending shivers down his spine. He closes his eye, his breaths coming in short bursts. Karen's hand rests gently on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing circles. She whispers, "We've done this before," her voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching slightly. Rachel, the hygienist, notices his discomfort and dims the lights slightly. The sudden change makes his antennae still, his breathing evening out. "Alright, Mr. Plankton," Rachel says, her voice calm. "This won't hurt a bit. Just keep still and we'll be done in no time." Plankton nods, his antennae quivering slightly as Rachel steps away to take the x-ray. The room goes dark, the machine's buzz piercing the silence. Plankton's breath hitches, his eye squeezed shut. When Rachel returns, she's careful to avoid sudden movements. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, we're all done," she says, her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae still as he opens his mouth, allowing Rachel to remove the film. He swallows hard, his eye never leaving Karen's.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xiv (By NeuroFabulous) Sandy and Chip watch as she tucks the blanket around his form, her movements careful not to disturb his slumber. "Let him sleep," she murmurs, her voice a caress. "He'll wake when his body's ready." The two of them nod, understanding in their silent gazes. They sit quietly, the only sound the ticking of the clock and Plankton's deep snores. Sandy glances at Karen, her eyes filled with concern. "Is he okay?" she asks in a hushed whisper. Karen nods, her expression calm. "It's normal after surgery. He'll be fine." Chip's gaze is glued to his father, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar sight. "What happens now?" he asks, his voice small in the quiet room. Karen sits back, her hands folded in her lap. "Now, we wait," she murmurs. "Let him rest." Sandy nods, her eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. "It's late," she says, her voice low. "Should I stay?" "You can sleep in my bed Sandy," Karen says. Sandy nods, her eyes on Plankton. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to leave you alone." Karen smiles, her gaze on Plankton's peaceful face. "You won't," she says. "We're all here." Sandy nods, a soft smile gracing her features. "Thank you," she says, her voice a gentle echo in the silent room. She takes the offered space, her eyes never leaving her friend's sleeping form. Karen watches Plankton sleep, his antennae twitching slightly with each snore. Her thoughts are a whirlwind of emotion, a mix of worry and love. She knows the road ahead won't be easy, but she's determined to navigate it with patience and care. The next morning, the sun peeks through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the living room. Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching as the world intrudes on his slumber. The room is quiet, the remnants of the previous day's events a fading memory. He opens his eye to find Karen asleep in the chair beside him. Her hand is curled around his, a silent promise of support. Plankton's mouth feels swollen, the tender reminder of the surgery yesterday. He sits up slowly, his body protesting with a soft groan. The house is still, the only sounds the distant chirps of early morning scallops. Chip is probably still asleep, Sandy in the other room. Plankton's antennae quiver as the pain of the surgery starts to make itself known, a dull throb that echoes through his body. He reaches up to his mouth with tentative fingers, the swollen flesh meeting his touch with a sharp sting. He winces, his body tensing in response. Karen's eyes open. "You're ok," she whispers, her voice a gentle balm. She takes his hand, guiding it away from his face. "Le..." But Plankton's antennae are already twitching with discomfort, his eye wide with pain. "M'hurt," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse whisper. Karen's expression softens, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I know," she says, her voice soothing. "It's from the surgery." Plankton nods, his body stiff with discomfort. Karen stands, her movements fluid. She fetches a cold compress from the kitchen, the fridge's hum a gentle reminder of the world outside their quiet bubble. "Here," she murmurs, her touch featherlight as she places the compress gently against his cheek. The coldness soothes the ache, his antennae quivering with relief. Plankton's eye closes, his body sagging into the couch cushions. The pain is a dull throb, a constant reminder of his surgery. Karen sits beside him, her hand resting lightly on his, her presence a comforting weight. "What else can I do?" she whispers, her eyes filled with concern. He mumbles something incoherent, his antennae twitching. Karen frowns, her brow furrowed. "What was that, Plankton?" He opens his eye slightly, his voice thick with pain. "M'hurt," he whispers. Karen's heart clenches. "Your teeth?" she asks, her voice a soft concern. Plankton nods, his antennae drooping. "Mmh," he confirms, his hand moving to his swollen cheek. The coldness of the compress is a small mercy, but the throb persists. Karen's gaze is filled with determination as she looks for more ways to ease his discomfort. She remembers the pain medication from the doctor, quickly retrieving it from the kitchen counter. The bottle rattles slightly in her hand, each pill a potential lifeline. Plankton's eye widens slightly at the sound, his antennas twitching with anticipation. She opens the bottle with a soft click, the smell of mint wafting upwards. "Take one," she instructs, her voice a gentle guideline through the fog of his pain. He nods, his hand shaking as he takes the pill. The water is cold on his swollen tongue, the liquid a sweet reprieve. Karen watches as he swallows, her face etched with care. "There you go," she whispers, her hand never leaving his. The pain medication takes effect slowly, the throb easing into a dull ache. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his breathing evening out. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice a hoarse whisper. Karen's smile is a soft reassurance. He sinks back into the couch cushions, his antennae drooping with relief. The cold compress is a steady presence, her hand in his a warm reassurance. "You're welcome," she whispers, as Chip follows his mom's friend Sandy to them. Sandy's eyes are filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "How's he doing?" she asks, her voice a soft question in the early morning silence. Karen looks over back at Plankton. "He's in a bit of pain," she says, her voice a gentle sigh. "But the medication should kick in soon." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "I can stay and help," she offers. "If you need anything, just let me know." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye opening to meet her gaze. "Mmph," he mumbles, his voice still slurred. Karen nods, her smile gentle. "You're doing great," she whispers. Chip sees his dad's swollen cheeks and his antennae drooping. "Does it hurt a lot, Dad?" he asks, his voice filled with a newfound compassion for the man he's often seen as just his quirky father. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye blinking open. "Mmh," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse echo of his pain. "A little." Karen's smile is filled with empathy as she squeezes his hand. "It's okay, I'm here," she whispers. She knows the pain of his autism, the way it can magnify the smallest of discomforts into a symphony of sensory overload. She gently places the compress back on his cheek, her eyes never leaving his face.
CHIP AND FAIL ix (Autistic author) Chip stared at his dad, his mind racing. He had always known his dad was different, but he had never understood why. Now, as he watched the man he idolized quivering with overstimulation, he couldn't help but feel a deep sadness and anger. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice tight. Plankton's antennae shot up, his face contorting with a sudden surge of anger. "ENOUGH!" he roared, the sound exploding from his chest like a bomb, his antennae quivering with each syllable. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Chip recoiled, his eyes wide with shock. He had never heard his dad so angry before, never seen him so out of control. "Dad, I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You're sorry?" Plankton spat, his antennae vibrating with rage. "You don't get it, Chip. You never will." His voice was a storm, his words cutting through the tension in the room. "You think I don't want to hear your stories? You think I don't want to be a part of your life?" His body trembled with the force of his emotions, his eye blazing with pain. Chip took a step back, his hands up in defense. "Dad, no, I..." But Plankton was a tornado, his anger a living thing in the room. "You think I don't want to connect with you?" he shouted, his antennas whipping around. "You think I don't love you?" His voice broke, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his tears. Chip stared at his dad, his eyes like saucers. "But Dad, you always push me away," he protested, his voice tiny in the face of Plankton's fury. "You never want me to touch you or..." "You just let me explain!" Plankton shouted, cutting him off. His antennae were a blur with the force of his emotions, his eye flashing. "You always keep pushing and pushing, and it's too much!" His words were a volley of thunder, each one striking Chip like a physical blow. Chip took a step back, his eyes filling with tears. "But Dad, I just want to be close to you," he choked out, his voice a mere wisp. "I don't understand why you can't..." "Because you don't listen!" Plankton's voice was a whip, slicing through the air. "You don't see the storm in my head, the way every touch feels like a storm, every sound a siren!" His antennae quivered with rage, his body tense. "You think it's easy for me? That I don't want to be there for you?" Chip took another step back, his hands up in defense. "I didn't know," he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears. "I just wanted to tell you about my week." He says reaching out with a trembling hand, but Plankton's swatting Chip's hand away. "Don't. Touch. Me!" Plankton roared, his body trembling with rage. "Can't you see that?" His voice was a knife, sharp and unforgiving. "And don't you DARE say you're better off without me!" His eye blazed with a fierce protectiveness that Chip had never seen before. Chip's hand hovered in the air, his fingers curling into a fist. "But Dad," he choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears, "I just want to be close to you." He took a step closer... "NO!" Plankton shouted, his antennae snapping like whips. "You don't get to invade my space like that!" His body was a live wire, his anger a force field that repelled Chip's reaching hand. "You think it's funny?" His voice was a maelstrom of pain and fury. Chip's eyes filled with tears, his hand dropping to his side. "I just wanted to help," he murmured, his voice tiny in the face of his father's storm.
CATCH IN MY CHIP viii (Autistic author) The room is bathed in a soft moonlight, the shadows playing across Plankton's sleeping features. His body, once taut with tension, has relaxed into the embrace of the bed, his arm curled around a pillow. His antennas now rest gently on the pillowcase, no longer quivering with agitation. Karen watches him sleep, her thoughts a jumble of worry and love. She knows he's tired, that the weight of the world can be too much for him to bear at times. But she also knows that he's strong, that he'll face tomorrow with determination. The first light of dawn filters through the curtains, painting the room in soft shades of pink and orange. Karen gently squeezes his shoulder before standing, her eyes never leaving his peaceful face. She knows that today will be a day of apologies and understanding, of teaching Chip about his dad's autism and how to navigate the world around him. With a soft sigh, she heads to Chip's room, her footsteps silent on the cool floor. She opens the door to find him sitting up in bed, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He looks at her. "Is Dad okay?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep and the remnants of his earlier distress. Karen nods, her eyes filled with a quiet determination. "We'll talk to him when he wakes up." The words hang in the air, a gentle reminder of the conversation that needs to be had. Chip nods, his eyes still puffy from crying. He clutches his pillow, the fabric damp from his tears. "But what do I do?" he asks, his voice small and scared. "How do I make sure I don't make him upset again?" Karen sits on the edge of the bed, her hand stroking his. "You just keep being you, Chip," she says, her voice warm. "Daddy loves you, and we'll learn together how to make sure he doesn't get overwhelmed." Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "But what about my trophy?" he asks, his voice still shaky. Karen's hand stops, her gaze dropping to the shard of plastic he holds tightly in his fist. "We'll fix it," she says, her voice filled with conviction. "Together." The promise brings a small smile to Chip's face, his eyes lighting up. "Really?" Karen nods, her own smile genuine. "Of course, honey," she says. "We're a family. We stick together." With that, she stands up, her body weary but her spirit resolute. The room feels lighter somehow, the air less charged with tension. Chip clambers out of bed, his small hand reaching for hers. Together, they walk to the bedroom, the shattered remnants of the trophy glinting in the early light. Plankton is still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Chip looks at him, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity. "We'll talk to him when he wakes up," Karen says, her voice soft. They sit beside Plankton's bed, the room still and quiet. Chip's hand trembles slightly as he holds the broken piece of trophy. "But what if he's still mad?" he whispers, his voice barely above the silence. Karen's hand squeezes his. "He'll understand," she says, her voice filled with a calm certainty. "He loves you, and he knows you didn't mean to hurt him." The words are a gentle balm to Chip's fears, but the doubt lingers. He nods, his gaze never leaving his father. "Remember, Chip," Karen says, her voice a soft whisper. "Daddy's brain is different." Chip nods, his eyes fixed on his dad's sleeping form. He's seen Plankton stressed before, but never like this. He wants to show him love. With tentative steps, he moves closer to the bed, his heart beating a staccato in his chest. He reaches out, his hand shaking slightly as he hovers it over his dad's arm. "Chip," Karen whispers, her hand covering his. "Remember, gentle." Her words are a gentle reminder of the invisible lines that can be crossed. Chip nods, his eyes on Plankton's peaceful face. He takes a deep breath, his hand steadying. Slowly, so slowly it's almost imperceptible, he brings his palm to rest on Plankton's forearm, his touch as light as a feather. Plankton's body tenses for a moment, a reflexive reaction to the sudden contact. Chip holds his breath, waiting, hoping. Then, almost imperceptibly, he feels his dad's arm relax under his hand. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle breeze. "He's okay." Chip's hand remains hovering, his heart in his throat. Plankton's body remains still, his breathing even. Karen's touch is a guide, her hand resting on Chip's. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a soft encouragement. "You can do it." With a deep breath, Chip's hand descends, his fingertips brushing against Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennas twitch. Karen watches, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. Chip's hand hovers, his heart racing. He wants to reassure his dad, to let him know he's there. He's learned about space and understanding, but all he can think of is the warmth of his touch, the comfort he craves to give. His fingertips graze Plankton's arm, the contact so light it's barely there. He watches, waiting for a reaction, for a sign that he's crossed the line. But Plankton remains still, his breathing unchanged. Encouraged, Chip presses down slightly, his hand a soft weight on his father's arm. He feels the warmth of his skin, the steady pulse beneath. It's a tentative connection, fragile as spider silk. Plankton's antennas quiver, but his body remains still. Chip's heart hammers in his chest, his breaths shallow and quick. He's afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. Karen watches, her eyes filled with a quiet hope. The air in the room is thick with anticipation. Chip's hand hovers over Plankton's arm, trembling slightly with nerves and love. He's unsure if this small gesture will be met with anger or acceptance. Karen's gaze is a silent cheer, urging him on. Plankton's breaths remain steady, his body still. Chip's heart is a drum in his chest, each beat a silent plea for understanding. With a tremble, he lets his hand settle, his fingertips barely grazing the fabric of the blanket. He feels the heat of Plankton's skin, the rise and fall of his chest. It's a gentle touch, the lightest of caresses. Karen's hand remains on his, guiding him, encouraging him. Plankton's breaths remain steady, his body still. Chip's eyes are wide with hope, his hand poised above the blanket. With a tremble, he lets his fingers come to rest on the cotton, feeling the warmth of his father's arm beneath. He holds his breath, waiting for a reaction, for any sign that he's done the right thing. Plankton's body remains still, his breathing unchanged. Karen's eyes are glued to his face, watching for any hint of distress. But there's none. Only the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a testament to his deep sleep. Chip's hand is a butterfly landing on Plankton's arm, his fingers fluttering slightly against the warmth of his skin. He's never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But his love for his dad is stronger than his fear. Karen watches the silent exchange, her heart in her throat. The moment feels sacred, a testament to their growing understanding of each other. Chip's hand remains on Plankton's arm, the warmth of his touch a promise of comfort and love. He's afraid to move, afraid to disrupt the delicate balance. Karen's hand is a soft presence, guiding him, giving him the courage to stay. Plankton's breaths are slow and even, his body relaxed. Chip wonders if he's dreaming, if he's in a world where the sensory overload doesn't exist. His heart swells with hope, with the desire to protect his dad from the world's harshness. Karen's hand on his is a gentle reminder that he's not alone. She gives him a small, encouraging nod, her eyes filled with understanding. He takes a deep breath, his hand moving slowly, so slowly, to cover his dad's. The moment their skin touches, it's like a dam breaks. Chip feels a rush of warmth, a connection that's been missing. He squeezes Plankton's arm lightly, his heart pounding. He's afraid to move, afraid to breathe too loudly. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's face, watching for any sign of distress. But his features remain relaxed, his antennas still. The room is a sanctuary of quiet, the only sound their melded breaths. Chip feels a lump form in his throat, his eyes welling with tears. He whispers, "Thank you," to his mom, his voice shaky with emotion. She nods, her hand still covering his. "Remember," she says, her voice a soft caress. "Gentle." With trembling fingers, Chip tucks the blanket closer around Plankton, the fabric smoothing over his shoulders. It's a tiny act of love, a silent apology. He wants to crawl into the bed beside him, to wrap his arms around his dad.. He looks up at Karen, his eyes pleading. "Can I?" Karen nods, her smile sad but understanding. "Just be careful not to wake him," she whispers. With the grace of a cat burglar, Chip slides into the bed, his movements slow and calculated. He's careful not to disturb the sheets, not to make a sound that could break the tranquil silence. Plankton's arm is a warm mound beside him, and he reaches out tentatively, his fingers seeking the comfort of his dad's skin. He finds it, his hand coming to rest lightly on the crook of his elbow. The connection feels right, like finding a piece of himself he didn't know was lost. He snuggles closer, his head resting on the pillow beside Plankton's. Karen watches, her heart swelling with love for her son. "It's ok," she whispers. "Just be gentle."
CHIP AND THE DILEMMA ii (Autistic author) | ᴺᵉᵍᵃᵗⁱᵛⁱᵗʸ ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ | Karen's eyes widen, and she quickly takes in the situation. She's seen this before—his meltdowns. They've become less frequent, but when they happen, they hit hard. She turns to Chip, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chip, honey, why don't you go wash up for dinner?" Her voice is calm, but firm. Chip's screen flicked between his dad and mom, not fully understanding. "But Dad said we're doing the solar system after dinner," he protests weakly. Karen gives him a gentle nudge towards the door. "It's ok, sweetie. I'll take care of this. You go ahead." Reluctantly, Chip backs out of the room. He's worried, but he trusts his mom. Karen closes the door behind Chip, turning her full attention to Plankton. His breathing is still erratic, his eye unfocused. "It's okay," she whispers, moving closer to him. She's learned over the years that proximity can be both a comfort and a trigger. She treads carefully. Plankton flinches at her approach, but she's quick to respond, retreating slightly. She knows better than to push to hard. "You're having a hard time," she says softly, her voice soothing. "Do you want me to turn off the light?" Plankton nods, his eye squeezed shut. The dimness of the room helps, but the noise of Chip's retreating footsteps echoes like thunder. Karen moves to the window, drawing the curtains to block the setting sun, plunging the room into a comforting gloom. She sits down next to Plankton, not touching him, but close enough to be there. He takes a shaky breath. "Talk to me, love," Karen coaxes. "What triggered it?" Plankton's eye are still closed, but his breathing steadies. "Chip," he manages. "Chip's touch. It was too much." Karen nods. She's always been his rock, but she hates seeing him like this. She knows the stress of hiding his autism has taken a toll on him. "We should tell him," she says gently. "He's old enough to understand." Plankton's eye flies open, his panic rising again. "No," he says firmly. "He doesn't need to know." Karen sighs, stroking his back gently. "He deserves to know, Plankton. He loves you and he's worried about you." Plankton's body relaxes a little, the sound of Karen's voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. "I know," he admits. Karen nods, understanding the fear behind his words. "But think about it," she says. "He's going to notice things. It's better if we explain it to him on our terms, rather than him figuring conclusions and feeling alone or scared." Plankton looks at Karen, his expression a mix of fear and resignation. "Perhaps when the ringing in my ears dwindles," he says, his voice shaking. "I know, we can't keep it from him forever." Karen nods, her screen filled with empathy. "Whenever you're ready," she says. "We'll do it together." Plankton takes a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts of how to explain his condition to Chip. He knows it won't be easy, but his son deserves the truth. Dinner is a subdued affair, both Chip and Karen watching Plankton closely, noticing his lack of appetite and the faraway look in his eye. Chip keeps his questions to himself, sensing his dad's discomfort. After dinner, Karen breaks the silence. "Chip, why don’t we all go to your room?" she suggests, trying to keep her voice light. Chip nods, leading the way as Plankton follows, his steps slow and measured. Karen can feel the tension in his body as he tries to keep his composure. Once in Chip's room, Plankton sits on the edge of his bed, looking around. Chip notices the uncharacteristic stillness in his father's posture, the way his antennae droop slightly. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. Karen sits beside Plankton, her hand resting gently on his. "Chip, your dad has something important to tell you." Chip looks at them both, his screen wide. "What is it?" Plankton takes a deep breath. "Chip," he starts, his voice shaking slightly. "There's something you should know about me." Chip looks between his mom and dad. "What is it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton takes a moment, his eye scanning the room as if searching for the right words. "I'm... different, Chip," he finally says, his gaze locking onto Chip's. "I have a condition, called..." “Oh, Dad! Will get better?” Chip asks. “It’s gonna go away, right?” Plankton’s eye fills with sorrow as he shakes his head. “No, Chip, it doesn’t..." But before he can finish, Chip gasps. “It’s called autism, Chip,” Karen says gently, filling the silence. Chip frowns, his mind racing. “What’s that?” He’s heard the word before, but it’s always been in whispers or as a punchline in a joke at school. He doesn’t understand. Plankton sighs heavily. "It's a... the way my brain works," he explains, his antennae twitching with nerves. "It's like I experience the world through a different way than you do." Chip's eyes widen, his mind swirling with questions. "So, you're like... broken?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent concern. Plankton flinches at the word, his heart sinking. He's always feared this moment, wondered how his son would react. "No, Chip," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not like that. Autism is just part of who I am." But Chip's mind is racing. "You, you're like... not normal?" He can't hide the worry in his tone. Plankton's eye flickers with pain at the question, but he nods. "It's just a different way of things, buddy! It doesn't make me less..." But Chip's mind is already made up. "So you can't be fixed?" he blurts out, his tone filled with disappointment. Plankton's antennae droop. "There's nothing to fix," Karen says, interrupting gently. "Different, not broken. Autism is just a part of who your father is." But Chip can't shake the word from his mind. "Autistic." He's heard it before in whispers at school, thrown around like an insult. He looks at Plankton, his hero, his rock. But the damage is done. In Chip's gaze, his dad is no longer just quirky or unique— he's broken, like a toy that's missing a piece. "Chip," Karen says gently, "autism isn't something that can be fixed or taken away. It's part of who your dad is, and it's what makes him special." Chip looks at his mother, his expression confused. "But if he's different, doesn't that mean he's not as good?" Karen's screen fills with sadness, but she remains calm. "No, Chip," she says firmly. "Being different doesn't mean being less. It just means seeing the world in a different way. And your dad, he's incredible in so many ways. He's smart, and he's kind, and he loves you more than anything."
CATCH IN MY CHIP ii (Autistic author) Chip looks at his father with newfound understanding. He remembers the way Plankton's eye would sometimes glaze over when the TV was too loud or when the restaurant was too crowded. He'd always assumed it was just his dad being tired or grumpy, not that his brain was struggling to keep up. "So, what is it?" Chip asks, his voice small and scared. Karen takes a deep breath. "It's called autism, sweetie. And it just means that Daddy's brain works a little differently. Sometimes, it's really good at things, like inventing and remembering stuff. But sometimes, it can get overwhelmed by too much noise or too many people or things." Chip nods slowly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "But why doesn't he tell me?" Karen sighs, taking Chip's hand in hers. "Because he doesn't always know it's happening until it's too late. And sometimes, talking about it can make it harder for him." She looks up at her son with a gentle smile. "But now that you know, you can help him. Like giving him space when he needs it, or turning down the TV." Chip nods, his mind racing. He's always thought his dad was a little weird, but now he knows it's not just weirdness. It's something real, something that makes him who he is. He looks back at Plankton, feeling a mix of concern and curiosity. He goes and touches his dad's arm, his heart racing. "Dad, wake up," Chip cries, his hand shaking slightly. But Karen steps in, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Let's give him some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's still form. He retreats to the corner of the room, clutching his newly acquired seashell collection tightly to his chest. His mind races with questions, but fear keeps his mouth shut. He watches as his mom pulls the curtains, dimming the light to a gentle glow that seems to ease the tension in the room. The quiet is almost deafening now, the only sound the faint hum of the Chum Bucket's air-conditioning. Chip sits cross-legged on the floor, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. He'd always known his dad was unique, but he didn't realize it was something so... serious. Karen sits beside Plankton, speaking in hushed tones. "It's okay, dear," she says, stroking his arm. "Just breathe." Plankton's body twitches slightly, his eye still open and unseeing. Chip watches, wishing he could do something to help. He tries to be patient, his mind racing with questions about what just happened. Why couldn't Dad handle his stories and his energy? Why did he just... shut down? He'd never seen anyone react that way before. Chip's curiosity gets the better of him, and he tiptoes closer to the bed, peering over his mom's shoulder. Plankton's eye is still staring off into space, and his breathing is still shallow. "Mom, what's autism?" He whispers. Karen glances over at him, her expression a mix of love and sadness. "It's a condition that affects how people process information, honey," she says, her voice soft. "Some things that are easy for you and me, like talking and being around lots of noise, can be really hard for Daddy." Chip's eyes widen with realization. "So, when I was sharing all my stories and showing him my stuff, I was being too loud and moving too much?" Karen nods. "Sometimes, yes. It's like if you were trying to read a book in the middle of a rock concert. It's hard to focus." Chip looks down at his sandy hands, feeling a pang of guilt. "I didn't know," he murmurs. Karen smiles sadly. "It's okay, Chip. We didn't tell you because we didn't want you to think of your dad as different. But now that you know, you can help us take care of him." Chip nods solemnly, watching his mom gently guide Plankton to a more comfortable position on the bed. "How do we help him?" Karen sighs. "Well, for starters, we give him some space when he needs it. And when he's feeling better, we can talk about it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes glued to his dad's still form. He wants to help, but he doesn't know how. He watches as his mom covers Plankton with a blanket, her movements gentle and soothing. "What do we do now?" Karen looks at him, her expression full of warmth. "Now, we wait."
Bald Man © 8 hours ago ⬛⬛                     ⬛⬛ ⬛🟩⬛               ⬛🟩⬛    ⬛🟩⬛         ⬛🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛   ⬛🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛          ⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛       ⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛   ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵈᵃʸ       ⬛🟩🟨🟨🟨🟩⬛      ❤    ⬛🟩🟩🟨🟥🟨🟩🟩⬛ ⬛🟩⬛🟩🟨🟨🟨🟩⬛🟩⬛ ⬛🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩⬛    ⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛       ⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛          ⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛       ⬛⬛⬛   ⬛⬛⬛
PLANKTON Lyrics If you see me lurking outside your door Better grab your belongings and swim for shore You’re all a bunch of dumbos who don’t know the store Well I went to college and I’m rotten to the core I’m a marine drifter, I’m a first rate grifter I can be a shapeshifter if that’s what’s called for I’m Plankton Get out of my way I’m Plankton Better do as I say (Karen: You always blow it, don’t you know it Time for me to take the lead If you listen to me for just once in your life Chances are we will succeed) P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N Plankton, Plankton, Plankton, Plankton The secret formula is waiting for me here And you bet your boots I’m gonna get it If you underestimated my twisted brain Then for sure, you’re gonna regret it Taking over the world, today’s the day Sweet victory is just a pull away I’m Plankton The biggest evil genius I’m Plankton The smartest villain alive I’m Plankton I’m gonna get what I want I’m Plankton I’m taking over the world
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████████▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒█████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒████████████▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒████▒▒▓▓█████▓▒▓████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒████████████▒▒▒██████▓▒▒▓███▒▒▓██████▒▒▒▓███████████▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒████████████▒▒▒██████▓▒▒▓███▒▒▒██████▓▒▒▓████████████▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒████████████▓▒▓███████▓▓████▓▓████████▓▓█████████████▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒█████████████▒▓███████▓▒▓███▓▒▓███████▒▒▓████████████▓▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒████████████▒▒▒███████▒▒▒███▒▒▒███████▒▒▒████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓███████████▒▒▒███████▒▒▒███▓▒▒██████▓▒▒▒████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒████▒▒▒▓██████▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████▓▒▒███▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓█▓▒▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ █████▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒█████▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒███████▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓█████▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒█████████▒▒▒▒██████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓███████▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓██████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▓█████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒███████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒███████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▓▓██████▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓█▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓██▓▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓█▓▓▓█▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓█▓▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓█▒█▓▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓█▓█▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓█▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓█▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▒█▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▓█▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒█▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▓█▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▒█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓█▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
If you'd like to report a bug or suggest a feature, you can provide feedback here. Here's our privacy policy. Thanks!
AI Story Generator - AI Chat - AI Image Generator Free