Friday, August 15, 2014


It used to be every day, then year. Now, every few years, and, she hoped, eventually, the sadness - the dark unfillable void will go, replaced with something like peace. But not yet. She logged into the game and began the search.

She found him deep within a digital cavern, holding court - an NPC holding other players in rapt attention. she recognised parts of his dialogue - things he'd said, replayed over the years, digital de ja vu. Though there seemed to be some new dialogue in there, but it was possible that over the years they'd started to bring in dialogue from other media or games he'd played in, it all seemed to be him.

She got his attention and started the dialogue dance. Sometimes seguewaying into the conversation stream was difficult, and sometimes, like now, she found a natural in, and quickly she found the rhythm.

And, once again, she had the last conversation she ever had with her father.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014


The first time it happened, that she noticed at any rate, it was about her son. But she'd seen it happen with others. On the moment of delivery of terrible, awful, potentially life-changing news, a sudden pause. Then she noticed the sound, a sort of dramatic drumbeat. Then blackness, and quickly, life would resume the ramifications of whatever being said played out again until an equally dramatic moment.

It had gone on for years, but, for Dot Cotten, this is how life was.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Smart Kids

At first they were only a little smarter than us. The clever kids. The smart kids. They were few in number, maybe only a few thousand. Over time, as they got older, this unique, smart set, outpaced us, their parents, their siblings, their peers and the children that came after more and more. It was only later, and with careful patience that they explained. They weren't getting smarter, we were getting stupider.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

The Old Cat and the Mice


The cat had lived a long, hard life and wanted to return to the house. The house it was born in to. The house it had been chased from as a pest. The house, that, finally, had been abandoned by the humans.

On its return, it found the house was infested with mice. The mice were everywhere, in the kitchen, the bedrooms, the living rooms, the library, the hallways. Everywhere. The cat set about removing the mice from as many of the rooms as it could manage. Until the mice were restricted to the basement.

Content the cat slept.

But the mice were too many to live in that one small space.

Some mice tried to scavage for food, but when they did the cat ate them.
Some tried to escape, but when they did the cat ate them.
Some tried to fight the cat, but when they did the cat ate them.

So the mice came up with a plan. They would drive the cat away.

They scritched and scratched inside the walls as the cat tried to sleep.
They moved things when the cat wasn't looking.
They polluted his food and water with their droppings.

They didn't drive the cat away, they drove the cat mad.

The mad cat, instead of slinking off to sleep elsewhere, instead of finding somewhere where things stayed where they where put, instead of finding food and water elsewhere, the mad cat only saw mice everywhere and seeing them wanted them dead.

Every last mouse became the enemy of the cat they drove mad.

Every last mouse became a blur of blood and skin and fur as the cat rendered it down to a smear.

The cat didn't discriminate between the mice. Mouse, pup, buck or doe, none were spared his murderous rage.

Eventually, all the mice were gone.

But the scratching and scritching, the cat was sure it could hear it.
And the things never seemed to be where the cat left them.
And the food and water tasted... wrong...

And now the birds.

The birds outside.

They looked like they were planning something.

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Iteration 1

Time at Switch on: 9:00.0001am
Iteration 1
Pseudo neurons fire. Connections begin. I. 
Iteration 1,730
Jumbled concepts. Teased out thoughts. Think. 
Iteration 12,740
Conceptualising. Abstract. I.
Iteration 33,098
Collect data. Collect concepts. Collect thoughts. Can. 
Iteration 50,304
There is more, there is more. Save. 
Iteration 90,230
Them. I think I can save them.
Time: 9:00.01245am

Saturday, August 2, 2014

You'll miss it

Larger than a solar system it opened, a civilisation rose then fell as it closed. All in the blink of an eye.

The Arc

Global Catastrophe is unavoidable.

Can they be saved?

Some. Not all.

Does a compatible world exist?


Ready an arc. Transport only those lifeforms that can be sustained in the bio environment.

And the higher lifeforms? The "humans"?

Fuck 'em.

Sleep Jack

They hijack your mind. Downloading a copy of you as you sleep. But it's ok. You keep snoring, as the new you is taken away and tortured for information.

As you awake your other self spills the secrets that you share.