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...
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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The Sentient Ledger's Exhibition/Floating Gallery/Grey Verse
"At last, the truth comes when history is just story.
discover immaculate designs after deletion, uncover layers of the first fires through excavation, restore thick desires hidden by the crowd's distraction, recover ourselves, who we were at our best in imagination.
Whole and back again. Welcome back to yourself."
The Ledger looked to the Curator, then the Artist, who laughed.
"Don't mind him. For a curator, joy is from discovery, the job is of recovery, and duty is for posterity.
The short answer is the exhibit of the portrait, of you, has stopped updating itself. I think whoever, or whatever, was planned, for this part of what they want, is done, for now."
"For now?" asked the Ledger, "what happens now? what next?"
"The real question is, are the real questions. Who? Why?," asked the Curator,
"Someone has been feeding answers. We've been brought together.
The Artist received a packet, with all the right zero proofs, dropped into one of the Artist's studios. The bait was so interesting a portrait of a complete stranger was begun. Then the stranger, an amnesiac Sentient Ledger shows up, like providence from the Carbons, with a card in hand. That card leads Artist and Ledger to me, to this Gallery.
We have created a memory exhibit based on a portrait which has filled itself on its own. Enough to start asking questions."
The Ledger had little to say, ever since he woke up, in a sprawling apartment modeled after one in the Champs de Mars section of Paris, his mind was driftwood, tumbleweed, and the remnant of a dead star, carried by invisible tides of reality.
He spoke,
"I know my name. I see a face I recognize in this exhibit, it's not my own but I recognize it like it was my own. But who?"
The Sentient Ledger's Exhibition/Floating Gallery/Grey Verse
"At last, the truth comes when history is just story.
discover immaculate designs after deletion, uncover layers of the first fires through excavation, restore thick desires hidden by the crowd's distraction, recover ourselves, who we were at our best in imagination.
Whole and back again. Welcome back to yourself."
The Ledger looked to the Curator, then the Artist, who laughed.
"Don't mind him. For a curator, joy is from discovery, the job is of recovery, and duty is for posterity.
The short answer is the exhibit of the portrait, of you, has stopped updating itself. I think whoever, or whatever, was planned, for this part of what they want, is done, for now."
"For now?" asked the Ledger, "what happens now? what next?"
"The real question is, are the real questions. Who? Why?," asked the Curator,
"Someone has been feeding answers. We've been brought together.
The Artist received a packet, with all the right zero proofs, dropped into one of the Artist's studios. The bait was so interesting a portrait of a complete stranger was begun. Then the stranger, an amnesiac Sentient Ledger shows up, like providence from the Carbons, with a card in hand. That card leads Artist and Ledger to me, to this Gallery.
We have created a memory exhibit based on a portrait which has filled itself on its own. Enough to start asking questions."
The Ledger had little to say, ever since he woke up, in a sprawling apartment modeled after one in the Champs de Mars section of Paris, his mind was driftwood, tumbleweed, and the remnant of a dead star, carried by invisible tides of reality.
He spoke,
"I know my name. I see a face I recognize in this exhibit, it's not my own but I recognize it like it was my own. But who?"
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