“Residents of Chryse Planitia are urged to evacuate immediately…” my handunit was relaying the emergency broadcast “…before the approaching terrastorm cuts off egress. Bring medications and pets but leave household robots…”.
Not on my watch. “Janie, prep the crawler and the cargo pod.” I called. To K7-VA I said “put the word out on the Mesh, K: assemble at the Cenotaph, we’ve got room for every ‘bot in town.”
*SLAM* "Damn!". Another morning leaving the house in a rush, another set of car keys still on the key-hook behind the locked door.
Any parent knows that messaging the TeenEaters "Hey, let your dad in, I'm locked out" NEVER WORKS. But I have a trick that does. Adjacent universes differ by only the tiniest details. So if I slip next door to a universe where I'm home, I can borrow a key (chaoswalking runs in my family). The key always fits. It's just like borrowing a cup of sugar from a neighbour.
It takes a few more universes today before I find one where other-I'm home. When she opens the door she looks me up and down---"locked out, eh? you're a long way from home, sonny".
I signed up for a black-market time-travel tour as soon as I heard about them. (The first rule of Time Club etc.)
There’s an hour long pre-mission briefing on how you must be extremely careful in what you say or do as the smallest event could have future-changing consequences.
After that, they give you back your money, admit that there is no time machine, and tell you “now go and do the smallest thing you can to make the future better”.
In North Queensland (the pointy bit at the top of Australia) it is typically mid 30s Celsius (mid 90s F) and 90% humidity all summer. You can’t swim in the ocean because this time of year is when the venomous jellyfish breed. You can’t swim in rivers because they are teeming with four metre long estuarine crocodiles. The only place to swim is fast flowing mountain gorges. These places are extremely popular, having not so many killer animals, and plenty of opportunity for young humans to be loud and splashy. However vortices in the water kill a few people every year by pinning them against rocks underwater. There are also venomous plants (the worst pain i have ever experienced). I’m not sure if there are any killer fungi, but i would be entirely unsurprised. I don’t know why i am telling you this.
@cstross well i started to write “15 year old novel” then realized it isn’t, quite, by the 2011 pub date. How about we just both pretend i wrote “timeless classic”?
Rereading @cstross ‘s teenaged _Rule_34_ as a “beach novel”. I reckon you could tweak a few names and publish this today as a prescient vision of post-{brexit,trump,genAI} dystopia. maybe sprinkle on some cryptocurrency.
Like that old trope from the sci-fi show with the girl in the box, we got into the habit of marking our skin at every incident when visiting distant family. “Let me see your arms” my spouse said as, homeward, I got into the waiting carriage.
I proudly displayed unblemished skin.
“How?”. Utter disbelief; my trip to see my parents being unaccompanied was due to unwillingness, not inability.
“Nothing good. I just splurged on racism cancelling earbuds at the spaceport”
The smilodon kitten that came through the prototype voidgate in the basement has been growing fast. My initial decree that “she’s gotta go back to her mama” ran up against the fact that since the gate was /malfunctioning/ at the time, we can’t be sure of the origin coordinates. A long night swearing at the oscilloscope and trying both my spare Russian-surplus flux capacitors convinced me that a return trip is just not gonna happen, unless the box of FCs I ordered from AliExpress turn out to have closer tolerance than these cold war relics. Look, I’m a responsible mad scientist, i’m not going to drop a kitten into a random date in the Pleistocene without her mama.
“She’s gotta stay in the basement”, I told the Kid, “and keep the door shut”. Which explains why I’m looking at a saber toothed catling stretched out on the living room sofa with our two tabbies nestled into her belly fur, and her head on the Kid’s lap.
“Comfy?” I ask in my best mumsarcasm voice.
“We’re watching squirrel tube.” the Voice bounced off the Kid, “hey Mum, did they have squirrels in the wotchucallit plasticine age?
“Oh. Oh no. Oh fuck me. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck with extra fuck and a double helping of fuck sprinkles. This cannot be happening!”
“Something wrong, Chief?”. I have a gift for understatement.
Chief de la Luna had both hands in her hair, gripping it like she wanted to pull it down over her entire head and torso to make the Universe go away. “Some utter MUPPET left this transporter in level 2 diagnostic mode. A WEEK ago”
“Aaaaand…. I gather that’s”—I’m told I’m very perceptive, too—“bad?”
“This console has been logging every item transported to the pattern buffer. Pattern logging is supposed to ONLY be used for test weights”
“So, what, we gotta reboot it and clean out the buffer?”
“I could do that,” she said glumly, “if I wanted to murder the fifty seven people in the buffer.”
“Oh, fuck…” the horror was dawning on me. “…and pass the sprinkles”
I felt a tingling in my toes. I looked down and my toenails were bright red.
Uh, what. I pushed the game controller stick the other way. Back to normal.
I looked up at the TV. The character editor in “Battle Shell” lets you change *everything* from species to earring length, but I had never noticed the “player” checkbox in the edit screen before; I’d reflexively toggled it to see what it did. To be fair I skipped reading the release notes for the update that downloaded overnight.
I adjusted the hair slider. Oooh that felt weird. I sat forward and long red hair fell down my chest, from where it had been bunched up behind my head. Hmmn, chest… could it be?
Graziers love solar panels. The land makes extra money from power generation, while the sheep, cows or goats keep the grass down, enjoying the ever moving shade of the panels throughout the day. The water supply needed for washing the panels also allows convenient siting of drink troughs.
Emboldened by these luxuries, it was the goats who went on strike for faster internet.
The Unicode Consortium announces release 17.2.0 of the Unicode standard.
A. Summary
41 new Emoji characters have been added, most notably:
◦ The smell of rain ◦ The feeling of being asked to remove your headphones on public transport by a stranger hitting on you (U+F0AD) ◦ The sound of standing on your spectacles while trying to locate them in the dark ◦ The moment at 5am when a cat is delightfully making biscuits on your abdomen but you need to get up to pee
How to misog: * neglect study of medical conditions that affect women * ignore women with pain * label them drug seekers * ban over the counter strong painkillers * boggle over uptick in overdoses on supermarket analgesics * more bans will fix it
Quantum computation turned out to be bunk; computer geeks were secretly relieved that the encryption that protects global finance didn’t dissolve to nothing. It wasn’t all wasted research effort tho, quantum RAM works wonderfully, storing a million bits in a single transistor (plus its analogues in a million nearby universes). Nobody stopped to consider whether all those universes were trustworthy.
Hacker. Parent. Scientist. Rantist. Atheist. Roboticist. Treehugger. (they/them¹).At Accelerando Lab I research, design and build custom IoT and electronics solutions...fast!Every day I write a #PowerOnStoryToot over morning coffee, as a self-test of my brain. If you like them, buy me another coffee? (Link 👇)¹ subject to change without notice 🐣