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Literature Text
In 2259 the Sol Empire collapsed into its constituent parts, when expansion was forced inwards. After sowing its seeds in local space, the hunger to reap elsewhere grew as the death pangs of conflict consumed what was once a prosperous enterprise. This is known and always has been.
In the drive to remedy the energy problem, the tap of holographic resonance was opened. The point energy of the object at the beginning of time continues to speak to the needs of relative "constituents" within its domain.
Everything is in the same place. There is no relativity in the resonance. Infinitely-finite is the energy that comes from the only true atom. This is the power source of the holographic engine, constructed by the religious tech seers of the church of singularity.
--Search parameters fulfilled. Data download complete. Transmission terminated.--
A gruff voice speaks "Light of Lights to Church-com, come in". In the silent distance between the CSHE-1 test ship Light of Lights and the Church of Singularity command, the signal is transmuted into another's reality. "HE-1. Church-com here. Status?" replied a living heresy of tech-humanity.
"Holographic resonance is steady as always. I just need a go or no go from I and I. Over", to which the I of his I replied "We have a go Light of Lights. May illumination bring you close to atom. Over and out".
The last local-com heard from CSHE-1 Light of Lights was "On this day I and I emit to the glory of true singularity". The ship engaged sub-light engines and set course for Gliese, with the aim of preventing the pre-illumined in their sub-light ships from seeding their darkened minds on new worlds. This new plateau would become a point in the empire of singularity.
May I become everything non-local the test pilot Maxim thought to himself as he pressed the clichéd engage button in his mind-GUI. At ten percent the Maxim of light he felt as though his body stretched across vast distances before the weak force endurance device brought his mind to equilibrium.
At Church-com a burst of radiation washed over the citadel and was ignored, as the stretched transmissions of CSHE-1 changed spectrum. It would take them some time to infer this, but too late to be of any utility in reading Light of Lights data transmissions.
Near the maxim, pure disorientation took hold with relativity. The ship began its alchemy as it approached the speed of light, and did itself turn into a wave-beam of photons. Emission and the target became the same point as the no-time zone of 299 792 458 m / s was achieved. Maxim was both in Sol and Gliese. He was both dead and alive.
He sat in no-time as he always did with the pantheon of Maxim explorers in the infinitely parallel existence and watched endless remakes of the same film, infinities of which he created himself.
In the drive to remedy the energy problem, the tap of holographic resonance was opened. The point energy of the object at the beginning of time continues to speak to the needs of relative "constituents" within its domain.
Everything is in the same place. There is no relativity in the resonance. Infinitely-finite is the energy that comes from the only true atom. This is the power source of the holographic engine, constructed by the religious tech seers of the church of singularity.
--Search parameters fulfilled. Data download complete. Transmission terminated.--
A gruff voice speaks "Light of Lights to Church-com, come in". In the silent distance between the CSHE-1 test ship Light of Lights and the Church of Singularity command, the signal is transmuted into another's reality. "HE-1. Church-com here. Status?" replied a living heresy of tech-humanity.
"Holographic resonance is steady as always. I just need a go or no go from I and I. Over", to which the I of his I replied "We have a go Light of Lights. May illumination bring you close to atom. Over and out".
The last local-com heard from CSHE-1 Light of Lights was "On this day I and I emit to the glory of true singularity". The ship engaged sub-light engines and set course for Gliese, with the aim of preventing the pre-illumined in their sub-light ships from seeding their darkened minds on new worlds. This new plateau would become a point in the empire of singularity.
May I become everything non-local the test pilot Maxim thought to himself as he pressed the clichéd engage button in his mind-GUI. At ten percent the Maxim of light he felt as though his body stretched across vast distances before the weak force endurance device brought his mind to equilibrium.
At Church-com a burst of radiation washed over the citadel and was ignored, as the stretched transmissions of CSHE-1 changed spectrum. It would take them some time to infer this, but too late to be of any utility in reading Light of Lights data transmissions.
Near the maxim, pure disorientation took hold with relativity. The ship began its alchemy as it approached the speed of light, and did itself turn into a wave-beam of photons. Emission and the target became the same point as the no-time zone of 299 792 458 m / s was achieved. Maxim was both in Sol and Gliese. He was both dead and alive.
He sat in no-time as he always did with the pantheon of Maxim explorers in the infinitely parallel existence and watched endless remakes of the same film, infinities of which he created himself.
Literature
Newspaper Suit
I am a charlatan
peddling fraudulent wares
but nobody else can see
the pushpins
where adhesive didn't stick.
And you'd think the paper trail
from the newspaper suit
would give it away
but the pictures keep smiling
while underneath gangrene begins
and happy happy faces
mask the smell
of death.
Literature
The Waste World
She said create the world, so I did. I made it dark and dusty, coughed up from my own black lungs. I gave the trees an ashen hue and the ground a color to match the starless sky. The creatures were murmuring oozes, globs of drying acrylic that inked across the orb of my bubbling imagination.
Repulsing, it was in fact the product of an industrial mind. I was born from man's smog goddess and, if memory serves me, her breath was laced in exhaust which I inhaled nightly with her songs. She was soothing and complacent, her voice smokey like a hazy bar. No one could deny her features were hideous beyond belief. Her skin dripped pollution like morp
Literature
Tale 2: Worlds in the Attic
He was very old by now. His long, white hair, uncut for fifteen years, was loosely spread all over the back of his coat. His shoulders were brought forward by age, his fingers weren't as deft as they had been. If there was one thing he was very happy for, it was that when he had started, he had used the higher shelves first. It meant he didn't have to climb steep, uncertain ladders all the time now.
There were hundreds, thousands of jars and bottles and little tin boxes neatly stacked on the shelves, hung from the ceiling by thin chains or ropes, some small and precious glass containers brought together by ropes hanging from the ceiling like
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The barman said: "Sorry, we don't serve neutrinos." A neutrino enters a bar. (anon) [link]