MG

I roll out of bed and pull on a pair of flannel pants, matching shirt, red and blue patterns on both. I walk out of the bedroom, down the hallway to the bathroom.

I place a bucket under the sink and open the tap, then release my own stream into the toilet. Water going into two different receptacles.

With a practiced and steady hand I reach up above the sink into a plastic bin, pull out a measured spoon of blue powder, and dump this into the bucket.

Once I’m done I wash my hands, transfer the contents of the bucket into a plastic watering can in the shape of an elephant, and walk around my small apartment, watering the dozen or so plants I have scattered on every windowsill and some counters.

The plants are simple creatures, they want little. Some blue medicine mixed into a bit of water and that’s all the plants need.

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Camping Trip, August 12, 2018

  • Light, born inside the sun, spends years traveling, hits a wooden plank and reflects, partially, into a photo-censor, to be stored as bits on magnetic surfaces, or waves of neuron information, or are recorded with paper and ink, later [editor’s note: now] to be turned into more bits.
  • A quiet harbor marina, dozens of boats bobbing in unison, the loud restaurant dominators the auditory, until a small Cesna interferes over head. Summer.
  • The fight was even-matched, we gave as good as was pummeled upon us, when finally a good guess turned the tide and won the war.
  • The beers are yellow-orange and light-brown, the latter a cool cask draft, hoppy and bitter both.
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Seattle Art Fair, August 5th, 2018

  • Oil tanker, stranded in the desert, bleeding rust onto the burning sand. A second tanker, bleached, worn down to iron ore, the plateua around it white, radiant.
  • Animal-faced children, masked adults stare out of raised canvases, making my neck tilt back to see them full. Whatever. Boo!
  • I see it four exhibits ahead, other side of the aisle. I pretened not to notice, steal away quick glances, play hard-to-get and plot a course that winds through the competition. I narrow my focus, try not to think of or look at the object of my desire, work up emotionally to seeing it in all its glory, but only after pining after it for a sufficient time.

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Alien Thoughts

It is an alien world that is around us. Literally.

It’s outside of our experience, if our own thoughts are the only measure of reality that we can have.

I watch a bee fly over the flowers on my patio. They’re beautiful shades of pink and orange, and the bees have been busy lately, buzzing from bell to bell. I watch them and wonder what it would be like to be a bee. They get to fly and crawl around miles and miles of gorgeous flowers to gather the very energy that their society needs to sustain itself. They fly back and sometimes do a fancy dance for their identical siblings, informing the hive of the location of a particularly plentiful patch.

An alien kind of existence. Their communication system so different, so unintelligible to humans. We’re going to have to spend millions in research grants, thousands of hours of effort, entire buildings built, and gigabytes of data across the globe will go towards understanding what one bee tells another by way of its dancing and buzzing. A task that their tiny minds are incredibly well-equipped to perform.

We are spending ourselves to understand the language, the grammar of bees. Because we wish to know their alien thoughts.

And of course our own thoughts are little-more understood.

What’s up with that?

Did you know that it costs about three hundred bucks – US dollars – to build an EMP bomb? That’s 300$ for something that can fry every piece of electronics in about 10 city blocks. It’s not a big explosion, either, just a small car-bomb that goes pop and suddenly every microchip around it is gone. Say bye-bye to your phone, laptop, tablet, your car, pacemaker, thermometer, fridge, maybe even your toilet. Need I go on?

Detonate this puppy around Wall Street and you can shut down the stock exchange for a week at least. If there’s a hospital in the blast range, you’ll likely cause some deaths as well.

Trigger this thing close enough to an airport, it’s gonna rain planes.

Pop one in front of the White House and the President can’t watch his TV for a while.

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Freeze, 2

[Previous]

We set camp, organized shifts, and I fell asleep. I dreamt of golden fields of wheat. I think that’s what it was. I’d never seen golden fields of wheat, can’t tell you what they look like.

I walk through the golden fields and run my hands through the harvest. It’s been a good year.

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Freeze, 1

What we now call the Seattle Freeze, they first described as Snowmageddon.

The Next Ice Age, or simply Ice, began as a year-long snow-storm that buried Seattle under six feet of ice. It all started with Seattle, and we were here to end it here as well.

The team comprised the six of us, a dozen satellites in orbit, and the high-altitude smart-base we called home, The Helix.

My name is Horatio Wyland Sils and I have been a soldier in this army for the past forty years, ever since the day of my birth. I was born in Rio, when the Ice had already covered most of Europe and North America.

When I was born, we hadn’t heard from China in a while.

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Dice, 4

[Previous Chapter]

I looked at Block as if he had grown an extra head. I think this was justified, the man had just claimed that we had traveled two thousand years into the past. The airplane around us suddenly seemed to close in on me.

The pressure kept changing, making my ears pop, and I wondered when this vehicle we were lock in would settle down somewhere.

We did just that in mere seconds, then the crew was up out of their seats and filing out of the two exits the aircraft had. Meg came over to me and freed the stretcher, then moved it toward the closest outside bulkhead, pushing it over the raised lip and dragging it down a ramp.

We were on a cement tarmac, an air-control tower on the other side of the runway. It was a sunny morning, in contrast to the late afternoon we had just left. The acid rain was replaced by sunny skies.

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Mina

My name is Mina and I am all alone in this world.

I was born in 2451, on January 30th. That was twenty and four years ago.

“The government” is no longer a concept where I am from, but if there was a modern counterpart to it, then it was the Council of the Third. The Council funded research into FTL travel and eventually was able to come up with a prototype, a vehicle designed to break free of our measly physical laws and travel through a sort of hyperspace. Or was it a wormhole? Or spice?

Wasn’t really paying attention when they taught me all that stuff, covered it in the classes leading up to the launch. I wasn’t interested in it, beyond the bare essentials. We’ll get to them, later.

So there I was, in orbit.

The prototype ship was nicknamed Nostromo for its strange shape. I was floating outside it, going over every inch of her surface, checking her for holes, ruptures. It was tradition, that’s why.

She was a beauty, the gray outline of her side, in the glow of the sun and the African continent below us. I slowed myself a bit and enjoyed view and the serenity of the fly-by.

I entered the ship through the free airlock. The other airlock connected the lab to ship, so no way was I getting through it. Doctor Roland was already in the ship when I got in. She updated me on my vitals while I went over the pre-flight checklist.

She didn’t have much to report. The mission was still a go.

Twenty minutes later, I detonated the explosive charge that destroyed the lab, while a larger charge vaporized the Council headquarters. That was my actual mission. The Council of the Third, Airborn Division Three was a mask that I used to find my way onto the Nostromo. Once aboard the ship, I made short work of the scientists who designed it, then flew into the void.

They’ll never catch up. That’s what I remembered from the lectures.

FTL has an upper speed-limit, and I was at it. I was alone forever. The world I was born into did not matter anymore, it was beyond reach.

The ship was not built to navigate between the stars, this was a prototype we were hoping would fly us to Mars. When I slow down, I will be flying on manual. Finding a star with a habitable planet around it will be a miracle. Setting down on a planet is astronomically unlikely, I realize that.

Finding my way back to Earth was an impossibility.

Wherever I am, and wherever I find myself on this trip, it will be a new, different world.

My God, Chapter 1

[Editor’s note: found this post from September of 2016. Posting what I had. Foy was renamed to Zeke, I was still playing around with the name of the college and where it was. The real name would probably have been chosen in editing, but I don’t want to edit these.]

[Previous Chapter]

I came to Kodo for college. I’d never been in a gods-2.1 world before. Didn’t really know what I was getting myself into, but mom and dad encouraged me to see the sims.

In a world where all travel is instantaneous, leaving to go to college no longer carries the same weight as packing up the used car dad helped you pay for and crossing a timezone or two. It simply involved walking through a doorway.

I stepped out of Buchard and into Kodo. It was a similarly-themed terminal. I was approached by a friendly local named Zeke who welcomed me. Zeke knew enough about me, knew what I was majoring in and the names of my parents, and took me on the twenty-five cent tour – whatever that is – of the precinct’s capital city, Cedar.

We flitted above the city in a light plane and Zeke gave me a brief history of the sim and the formation of the precinct. We landed on the campus of Takona University and continued the tour there.

Zeke was a junior, studying terraforming, and was my mentor.

The tour concluded with a dinner for almost eight hundred incoming freshmen and their mentors. The Dean spoke to the class, gave us the usual pep talk, presented the parade of professors who spoke to us of their classes and the various paths to a degree the students could follow.

When she finally got to the topic of gods, I stopped fantasizing about diving off a cliff into an active volcano.

[Next Chapter]