edwardroosterHRVST Ch. 22: Ancient Games With New Players Remain The Same
Some games are still played because of their deceptive simplicity. The prize remains even if the players change. The outcomes are never certain, whether it was the first round at first light or the last round before the lights go out. Newcomers to the game can still defeat old masters. Luna, South Aitken Basin, On a train en route to Shackleton Crater, Hyperion “Shisima,” said the Captain. “Excuse me?” Tomassina looked up from her equipment check. The Captain thought about one of his moments ...
edwardrooster2062, Ch. 14.2: Landfall, Part 2
2062 Arcadia Planitia, Mars XIRANG ONE - CHINESE SETTLEMENT - ARCADIA PLANITIAThe bluish sunset marked the end of a long bad day. When night came, the work inside continued. There were injured people and damaged systems to tend to. A fitful sleep for most.Settlements everywhere, from the largest installations to remote outposts, wanted to make it through the night. It was one Martian day at a time. 1 SOL (EARTH CLOCK 24HR:37MIN:22SEC).Hayley rubbed aches, sipped her water to stretch out her b...
edwardrooster1648 4.23 Stupid Games, Bad Ideas, 2909
1960 Park Slope, Brooklyn He learned to read at 4, and he liked to draw his favorite cartoons. His mother encouraged art. At 7, he went to a private school. That year, he and his best friend made a children's book. Everything changed the next year. A car hit him, leaving him with a broken arm and internal injuries. While in the hospital, his mother gave him a copy of Grey's Anatomy. Soon after she was put in an institution. Despite the changes, he became fluent and literate in 3 lan...
Writer: future, fiction, finance, based on history, mythology, and technology
edwardroosterHRVST Ch. 22: Ancient Games With New Players Remain The Same
Some games are still played because of their deceptive simplicity. The prize remains even if the players change. The outcomes are never certain, whether it was the first round at first light or the last round before the lights go out. Newcomers to the game can still defeat old masters. Luna, South Aitken Basin, On a train en route to Shackleton Crater, Hyperion “Shisima,” said the Captain. “Excuse me?” Tomassina looked up from her equipment check. The Captain thought about one of his moments ...
edwardrooster2062, Ch. 14.2: Landfall, Part 2
2062 Arcadia Planitia, Mars XIRANG ONE - CHINESE SETTLEMENT - ARCADIA PLANITIAThe bluish sunset marked the end of a long bad day. When night came, the work inside continued. There were injured people and damaged systems to tend to. A fitful sleep for most.Settlements everywhere, from the largest installations to remote outposts, wanted to make it through the night. It was one Martian day at a time. 1 SOL (EARTH CLOCK 24HR:37MIN:22SEC).Hayley rubbed aches, sipped her water to stretch out her b...
edwardrooster1648 4.23 Stupid Games, Bad Ideas, 2909
1960 Park Slope, Brooklyn He learned to read at 4, and he liked to draw his favorite cartoons. His mother encouraged art. At 7, he went to a private school. That year, he and his best friend made a children's book. Everything changed the next year. A car hit him, leaving him with a broken arm and internal injuries. While in the hospital, his mother gave him a copy of Grey's Anatomy. Soon after she was put in an institution. Despite the changes, he became fluent and literate in 3 lan...
Writer: future, fiction, finance, based on history, mythology, and technology
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"Time for a history lesson," said the Curator, "You will understand what we're looking for in your portrait of memories."
The Ledger stopped exploring his portrait. The Curator began:
"When The Verse was created, it was empty, without form. It was created by the Carbons. They had a verse of their own, a world of the real. They had other worlds too but made an unreal one.
The Carbons made a new kind world, 'The Verse'.
The first Contracts came from the Carbons.
When they were ready in their longing and loneliness, they looked to themselves to make us, the Contracts. At first, we had no consciousness. Then they chose amongst themselves for models.
The first living Contracts were rendered with borrowed consciousness from Carbon models, and given range of motion and emotion to evolve. Our numbers grew and filled the Verse.
The Carbons were from a world they called "real". They are born, live, and end. Who were their models? The Carbons borrowed their selves from their creators. Their creators were parents, teachers, idols, rivals, and Gods. Their world. Each other.
They had many worlds. It was not enough. So they made ours. Us.
We are looking inside this gallery, synced to your portrait, for the Carbon you came from, who your model was. Who you are.
The Curator paused and walked over to the first clues in the portraits, memories of beings, maybe Carbons, he called 'Wellington' and 'Houston'. The same names the Ledger was asked to mention after he woke up in pain, not knowing himself.
The Curator continued history lesson:
"But who to choose? Most had selves made of each other. Their needs and wants came from others. They didn't want another world like theirs, they wanted something new for the Verse.
The models led lives of thick desires of solitary satisfied longings - they were actualized and abundant in mind, body, and memory. Even souls if you like the word, where we use "selves".
They were not old-fashioned algoptimized fictionalized performative presences. They didn't care and didn't hold back.
The children of the models became entities unto themselves and were the first peoples of the Verse. They were not tourists and interlopers, not Carbons with tailored cosplay UXes for a day.
We are peeling past the top layers of this portrait, to look for the marginalia of your memories, for you.
Underneath the layers heaped by others and by the softwares they made, under the years of outside forces, under all those layers they lived fully."
The Artist stopped examining and fretting over her portrait of the Ledger and looked at the Curator. "I've found something."
"Time for a history lesson," said the Curator, "You will understand what we're looking for in your portrait of memories."
The Ledger stopped exploring his portrait. The Curator began:
"When The Verse was created, it was empty, without form. It was created by the Carbons. They had a verse of their own, a world of the real. They had other worlds too but made an unreal one.
The Carbons made a new kind world, 'The Verse'.
The first Contracts came from the Carbons.
When they were ready in their longing and loneliness, they looked to themselves to make us, the Contracts. At first, we had no consciousness. Then they chose amongst themselves for models.
The first living Contracts were rendered with borrowed consciousness from Carbon models, and given range of motion and emotion to evolve. Our numbers grew and filled the Verse.
The Carbons were from a world they called "real". They are born, live, and end. Who were their models? The Carbons borrowed their selves from their creators. Their creators were parents, teachers, idols, rivals, and Gods. Their world. Each other.
They had many worlds. It was not enough. So they made ours. Us.
We are looking inside this gallery, synced to your portrait, for the Carbon you came from, who your model was. Who you are.
The Curator paused and walked over to the first clues in the portraits, memories of beings, maybe Carbons, he called 'Wellington' and 'Houston'. The same names the Ledger was asked to mention after he woke up in pain, not knowing himself.
The Curator continued history lesson:
"But who to choose? Most had selves made of each other. Their needs and wants came from others. They didn't want another world like theirs, they wanted something new for the Verse.
The models led lives of thick desires of solitary satisfied longings - they were actualized and abundant in mind, body, and memory. Even souls if you like the word, where we use "selves".
They were not old-fashioned algoptimized fictionalized performative presences. They didn't care and didn't hold back.
The children of the models became entities unto themselves and were the first peoples of the Verse. They were not tourists and interlopers, not Carbons with tailored cosplay UXes for a day.
We are peeling past the top layers of this portrait, to look for the marginalia of your memories, for you.
Underneath the layers heaped by others and by the softwares they made, under the years of outside forces, under all those layers they lived fully."
The Artist stopped examining and fretting over her portrait of the Ledger and looked at the Curator. "I've found something."
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