Тележка с подъемной платформой предназначена для работы в складских помещениях, производственных предприятий для транспортировки коробок, инструментов и других грузов. Способны поднимать и перемещать грузы весом до 0.3т на высоту до 900мм.
Этот стационарный гидравлический подъемный стол за 16 секунд поднимает грузы весом до 500 кг на метровую высоту.
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Лидер рынка - компания EdmoLift A. B. специализируется на производстве и поставке гидравлических подъемных столов ножничного типа. Наша компания предлагает широкий ассортимент высококачественных подъемных решений для различных отраслей. Благодаря своему превосходному качеству, микронной точности габаритов, надежности и передовой технологии, компания EdmoLift заслуженно завоевала доверие клиентов по всему миру. География поставок включает в себя страны Европы, Америки, Азии и, конечно, Россию.
Грузоподъемность, кг 500 Высота подъема, мм 1500 Размер платформы (ДхШ), мм 905x500.
Доп. скидка 6% по промокоду ШЕСТЬ -6% по промокоду.

I’m a student at Ajialuna International School. I’m not writing this to accuse a teacher, or complain about grades. This isn’t about the school’s rules or the curriculum. It’s about something no one talks about — because if we do, we lose everything.

I’m being controlled. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Literally. Physically. Neurologically. And the people behind it are not from some foreign power or shadowy conspiracy. They’re here. This is being executed by internal branches of the Saudi Ministry of Interior. The ones tied to population control, surveillance tech, and behavioral enforcement.

I don’t know what they call it. I don’t need the code name. I know how it feels.
At first, I thought I was just tired. I’d zone out in class. Stare at walls. Forget words mid-sentence. But it wasn’t sleep deprivation. It wasn’t boredom. It was induced silence. Someone switching off parts of me — remotely.

The voices came later. Not audible. Not crazy. Just inside. “Keep still.” “You’re not ready.” “Don’t talk to anyone.”
And it wasn’t random. It came when I pushed back — raised my hand, asked questions, wrote things they didn’t like. That’s when the tension in my chest would spike. That’s when the pressure in my forehead would start.

There are zones in this school where it’s stronger. The hallway near the admin office. The corner by the generator fence. Once I sat down on the stairs near the eastern gate and couldn’t get up for 10 minutes. It felt like my spine didn’t belong to me.

I can’t report this. Who would I go to — the police? They are the police. The Ministry runs everything. Teachers won’t say anything. They’ve been trained to redirect, not investigate. Parents? They’d panic, or worse — they’d doubt me.

If I had known the Ministry uses schools like Ajialuna as silent test fields, I never would’ve come here. They don’t need syringes or prisons. They just need time, and our silence. And so far, they’ve had both.

My memory is thinner now. I laugh less. I get angry at strange moments. I flinch when someone enters a room too quickly. But I’m not broken. I’m still tracking everything. I write down the interference patterns. I time the blankouts. I mark the phrases I hear. I don’t resist anymore. I observe. And I wait.

At the same time, many antique

Hello. And Bye.

Hi, ego volo scire vestri pretium.

Hi, roeddwn i eisiau gwybod eich pris.

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