This statement reveals a fundamental and uncomfortable reality: the vast majority of what exists in the world escapes our concern. Our cognitive and emotional resources are limited. In everyday life, this means we may forget a friend's birthday while juggling deadlines, overlook pressing global issues while consumed by local concerns, or struggle to absorb conflicting news stories in a single scroll. The overload leads us to filter, and sometimes, to miss what matters most. We do not ignore out of malice, but because we are bound by the constraints of attention, time, and information processing. In a world saturated with stimuli, we selectively care, often based on proximity, familiarity, or relevance to our personal narratives.

This statement reveals a fundamental and uncomfortable reality: the vast majority of what exists in the world escapes our concern. Our cognitive and emotional resources are limited. In everyday life, this means we may forget a friend's birthday while juggling deadlines, overlook pressing global issues while consumed by local concerns, or struggle to absorb conflicting news stories in a single scroll. The overload leads us to filter, and sometimes, to miss what matters most. We do not ignore out of malice, but because we are bound by the constraints of attention, time, and information processing. In a world saturated with stimuli, we selectively care, often based on proximity, familiarity, or relevance to our personal narratives.

"Permasmile™," a brightly packaged gel capsule developed by LumoriTech™, was released to the public only three weeks ago. Designed to elevate serotonin levels and promote consistent feelings of joy, the product contains a proprietary compound known as stentriphia.

Initial reviews glowed. "It felt like spring in my chest," said one user on social media. Another wrote, "I hugged my neighbour's cat and I don’t even like cats."

But as the Permasmile™'s popularity soared, so too did reports of a peculiar side effect: relentless hiccups. Not your ordinary, post-soda hiccups, but deep, rhythmic spasms that seem to coincide suspiciously with the peak of user euphoria.

Videos have flooded The Line, showing everything from corporate meetings derailed by giggle-hiccups to romantic dinners interrupted by snorting, gasping hic-laughs. One particularly viral clip features a wedding toast where the best man is overtaken mid-speech by a hiccup so powerful he launches his champagne flute across the room.

Dr. Melinda Vhorne of the University of Erthwick, who has begun independent research into stentriphia, suspects the compound may overstimulate the medulla oblongata. "It’s as if the body can’t decide whether to breathe, laugh, or hiccup first. The result is both medically fascinating and socially catastrophic."

LumoraTech released a statement on Thursday insisting the hiccups are "harmless and transient," and even suggested they may become "a quirky sign of happiness" in the modern age. Their new ad campaign features the slogan: Happiness You Can’t Keep Down!

However, not all consumers are charmed. A support group called "Smiling Through the Spasms" has formed on The Line, calling for further testing and refund options. Others have taken a more humorous approach: one bakery in Dorset now offers a "Permasmile Pie"  filled with carbonated custard,
guaranteed to "tickle your lungs." As for regulation?
The Health Safety Bureau has launched an inquiry
but warned the public to "consult your physician
before laughing uncontrollably." For now, Permasmile™ continues its march
through medicine cabinets
and memes alike,
one chuckling
hiccup at a time.

Klane, a familiar face for over twelve years, was known for his serious tone and nightly presence. But what producers uncovered during a routine equipment check was a secret sweet spot, literally. Inside the anchor desk, they discovered a concealed compartment brimming with licorice, sour chews, and, notably, peanut clusters. Klane defended the stash, saying it helped him “get through the daily horror show that is the evening news.” But station officials didn’t see it as a harmless indulgence. They’ve called it a breach of professional integrity, citing tampering with equipment and a lack of transparency. A spokesperson for the station released a statement saying, “This was not just about candy. This was about the standards we uphold for our newsroom and the trust of our viewers.”

The public, however, has responded with a sugar rush of support. Social media erupted with the flashtag #FreeTheCandy, and a petition to reinstate Klane has already surpassed 20,000 signatures.

Meanwhile, the anchor desk has been resealed and a new policy on studio property use is in the works.

As for Klane, witnesses say he left the studio casually, jelly beans in hand, with a simple parting line: “At least now I can eat them on my own time.”

by Fazh El Ahkir

Meanwhile, the pigment market is in freefall. Authorities have seized over 200 jars of black-market Marigold and Sunburst, reportedly trafficked from the Eastern Bazaars. Speculation is mounting about the so-called Beige Lobby’s influence over MACV. The sudden proliferation of oatmeal-hued apartments has only intensified public suspicion.

Further unrest stems from Dhor’s auto-tinting glass installations, which darken upon exposure to high-saturation hues. Residents have reported being judged by their own windows.

“I smiled and the glass turned brown,” said Hemli Quist, a local grocer. “It’s like living inside a moody mirror.”

Economists now warn that until a psychologically neutral alternative to yellow is approved—such as “Harvested Wheat” or “Mild Saffron", construction costs will remain volatile.

For now, yellow is out. Compliance is in. And Dhor’s skyline grows dimmer by the day.

by Oru Mornstrohm

The new regulations, which ban yellows exceeding 62% luminance, have left the construction industry reeling, with materials deemed “too yellow” now either prohibited or subject to intense bureaucratic scrutiny. Paint prices have surged overnight, with bricks infused with traditional yellow clay now pulled from shelves or redirected to compliance processing facilities. Entire districts, including the once-vibrant Western Ward, have been declared Chromatic Emergency Zones.

“First it was lemon walls, then traffic lines, and now we can’t even stack a sunny brick near a hospital,” said Varn Tonalh, Chief Architect of the Sadwich District Repainting Initiative.

Construction crews have joined in widespread protests, refusing to use ‘Sunny Clay’ until color guidelines are made more transparent. Workers are now required to perform aura scans on materials to detect emotional interference.

“It’s not about affordability anymore,”
said a local paint supplier.
“It’s about emotional safety. Yellow is simply too risky.”