medical nerve growth agents, reused as poison gas - victims grow new neurons everywhere, become unable to move out of pain
“the egregore layer”, “memespace”, “social norms”, to name some
Large nets around the trees both slow their fall and bring in food, sails collect dust to grow crops in, some colonies trail entire orchards
Legally recognized as the Fractured, they’re allowed to merge if they can provide credible evidence. Had a soulmate then? Now’s your chance.
His hair seems to move on its own, you could’ve sworn- there! A wasp flies near his hair and one shoots outwards, lassoes it, reels it in
But boy, ipfs name publish really takes its time to find other nodes #ipfs
#txtnix now has minimal support to add and publish files with IPFS. Subscriptions shouldn’t be too hard either.
But boy, ipfs name publish really takes its time to find other nodes #ipfs
#txtnix now has minimal support to add and publish files with IPFS. Subscriptions shouldn’t be too hard either.
Testing the ipfs backend … nothing to see!
Testing the ipfs backend … nothing to see!
@kas@enotty.dk Is #starttls-everywhere just to ease configuration or is there any reason why #lets-encrypt certs won’t work on mail servers?
@kas@enotty.dk Is #starttls-everywhere just to ease configuration or is there any reason why #lets-encrypt certs won’t work on mail servers?
^ Be like this guy, be a bore. ^↵Last person to find one made it a kaleidoscope. Created at least twelve infinities. Oh god the paperwork.
I’d like to turn in this mirror, it’s broken. Shows things that don’t exist. Our cat walked into it, now she’s a ferret. I hate ferrets.
A tale of elsewhere so compelling, the words themselves pack up and leave, wander from mouth to mouth to find the place they sing of
The Internet becomes self aware and our radio dishes pivot to point at Proxima Centauri - first thing it does is call a therapist.
Contact is rather one-sided. They splatter against protons like flies against windscreens and we scrape them up, hoping to read their minds.
The first aliens we meet turn out to be boltzmann brains in our particle accelerators. You know, those places with the deadly radiation.
a river in your mind↵of snaking churning protean sludge↵remakes what furrows it flows over↵never finds a sea to end in, only joins itself
there once was a race of primates through whose veins ran alcohol but we’ve rendered them extinct and now have to make do with rotten grapes
Modern neural interfaces are not implants but rather chrome ticks that attach to the skull, to drill a hole and inject a nerve growth agent.
life as we know it is merely a virus that needs reality to support it↵real, hardcore, life needs nothing but mathematical structure
Knowing this, gods are usually kind to their subjects. But some are simply insane. Others hate their younger selves and want them to hurt.
You can contact your universe’s god by figuring out its great unifying theory, simulating it and then talking to the resulting entity.
Maybe for this reason, there cannot be a single theory of meaning, only one for each of its aspects, uniquely adapted to its nature
Destroying what it meant to enlighten, it wouldn’t be a very good theory
warm and heavy in your hand, susurrant buzz swelling and ebbing like breath, you’d expect it to wake up and scamper away (but it doesn’t)
What happened to the eagle? They pacify it with regular liver, spiked with various drugs. Pay the right sum and you’ll even be given a ride.
At the foot of the mountain Prometheus is chained to is now a restaurant. Every morning, they fry his liver over an open fire. A delicacy.
In their liturgy, the Church of the Algorithm encode a program equivalent to our universe. Worshippers execute part of it each service.
police helicopters orbit the master thief’s lair, drawn to crime like moths to light
this old remote allows you to tune in to another’s sensorium, experience the world as them↵you spend evenings just switching channels
The swarm is well protected but recently new passages have emerged, part of no text ever seen. The guards swear to have seen nobody.
The royal aviary houses thousands of parrots, bred for their memory. Each year, the crown elects one text to be taught to a hatchling.
In their now virtual world, they’ll go to the usual places, meet all the usual people - and unknowingly give away all their best friends.
Depriva™ virtuality enhancer allows you to focus on what is important by shutting out all nonvirtual senses. Don’t let reality distract you!
đź“š Finished reading Meteorology: An Introduction to the Wonders of the Weather LECTURE TRANSCRIPT AND COURSE GUIDEBOOK by Robert G. Fovell
đź“š Finished reading Meteorology: An Introduction to the Wonders of the Weather LECTURE TRANSCRIPT AND COURSE GUIDEBOOK by Robert G. Fovell
Later on, burglars start facehugging victims. With (illegal) sensory overrides, it often takes them a week to figure out something is wrong.
It would probably be fun to implement a #gopher interface for taz.de. I have to talk to our webmaster about that… :)
It would probably be fun to implement a #gopher interface for taz.de. I have to talk to our webmaster about that… :)
We tie spacetime into complicated knots to produce artificial gravity. Our space stations now look like tangles of thorny tentacles.
You rush to the copier to capture the queen, one fat hypercomplex letter sprawling over a page spread, while soldier letters bite and sting
to scrub a mind clear, feed it conceptual noise, everything-but-reality, to untie and undo all concepts it has learned, one by one
@freemor@freemor.homelinux.net Interesting post about sharing. What’re thoughts about closed sharing community where you have to contribute to get something?
@freemor@freemor.homelinux.net Interesting post about sharing. What’re thoughts about closed sharing community where you have to contribute to get something?
Let’s be honest, it seems to be impossible to use twtxt without adding new stuff to the client. So much fun.
New plugin for #txtnix: Upload your twtfile to a ftp server. Hello FTP world! Now if someone would like ftp retrieval… :)
Let’s be honest, it seems to be impossible to use twtxt without adding new stuff to the client. So much fun.
New plugin for #txtnix: Upload your twtfile to a ftp server. Hello FTP world! Now if someone would like ftp retrieval… :)
The first dryad is said to have been imprinted from a dead maiden dumped at a tree’s roots. Soon, it became a popular method of burial.
Scale one of their spires before the morning, sneak past its sleeping protectors, watch and hear thousands of bells ring to greet the sun.
Onomants, able to reveal and change true names, are feared by other wizards: Having fire renamed to buttsex badly messes up your fireballs.
So, after weeks of neglecting my twtxt feed, i try to tweet more often. I think i was simply a little burnt out after roster and txtnix.
Worked the last weeks on https://github.com/mdom/tapsig/, a tap library to test unix commands. Would be interested in any kind of feedback!
So, after weeks of neglecting my twtxt feed, i try to tweet more often. I think i was simply a little burnt out after roster and txtnix.
Worked the last weeks on https://github.com/mdom/tapsig/, a tap library to test unix commands. Would be interested in any kind of feedback!
It is critical to an alkahest’s functioning to constantly dissolve itself into new forms, to find one that can attack or escape the problem.
Like cylinders of a lock, the planets revolve around the sun. Take the key, align them, and it will open to reveal what is behind.
Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it was lost on us when the beautiful androids the net was extruding began to replace us
To create a hunger golem, take a thousand starving paralyzed rats and a paper slip of names. It won’t rest until the bearers are devoured.
The Pharos Morgana, a saltwater will-o’-the-wisp, lures ships beyond the horizon to feed on their wreckage at the bottom of the waterfall.
to still have sailed the seven seas, of which one dried up and one was simply lost, no one remembers where it lay, maps don’t show it
in some 20 years we’re going to tell the kids in their content siloes how w̲e̲ used to get outsite at night & explore abandoned imageboards
Books hang off the author’s mind, fat and lazy memetic ticks, yet she works tirelessly to feed them. What is it with these authors?
computationalist’s fallacy (n): not pursuing a theory because it doesn’t point to an elegant algorithm (but is it a fallacy?)
teardrop naiads, tiny witnesses of tragedy↵blood naiads, often seen after battles, trying to play with the (usually humorless) valkyries
this staff is most powerful: made of wood and lightning, both alive, intertwined to wreak creation
the abyss does not judge you or pretend to hide its endless hunger. but that makes it at least one entity that cares about you
The mage steps up to the campfire, a roaring column of blue fire ascends and branches out into yellow leaves: The tree stands one last time
A huge fireball, paradoxically both dark and too brilliant to look at. Its edge dissolves everything. We dare each other to dance along it.
We like to visit the part of the city where a nuclear explosion was frozen in time by the city’s glitch-powered missile defense shield.
the mosquitoes here penetrate skulls to suck ideas↵if you swat one, it’ll leave an ink-black smear of words and images on your palm
2040: Contracts that bind ghosts to their loved ones for eternity are banned, a decision criticized by both ghost industry and many bereaved
cut reality to see if it bleeds: it does↵liquid time flows out, traps you like amber↵reality’s skin heals over and you’re caught under it
A tale of caution, citizens! Remember to dispose of oneiroactive waste! Don’t leave it around, turn it in, lest it sprout or reactivate.
You open the book to wind up a music box attached to its back. With every chapter, a new soundtrack slides into place and plays.
We radioed a few, no answer, no signs of life. But the stars… stirred. Something large was moving. Whatever it is, it’s now on its way to us
He built a telescope. Used a mirror of amber and silver, the better to see ghosts with. Found them: entire nebulae. Eurekamen.
Advances in image recognition show certain classes of captcha solvers to be vulnerable to Langford inputs. Antispam quickly weaponizes this.
instrument a mind with debugging hooks to catch all “at least they didn’t come up with […]” thoughts
“Then graverobbers, now saverobbers: Watch our report on how a shadow industry adapts to changing circumstances”
a flock of raindrops, hesitating to fall, circling over its prey
When you die, they give you a choice to restore from a savepoint, however you will share a realm with everybody else who has restored once.
we feed the reconstructor networks with noise to get eigendreams, the semantic skeleton of the oneirosphere
the smell of sweat, fear, blood & machine oil in a nuclear bunker↵hiveminds insane from isolation, seeking to escape through hijacked radio
Noobasis: Object level.↵Nootroposphere: First meta level. Still mostly plebs.↵Noostratosphere: The skyhook may deign to meet you here.
microcosmos: really tiny cosmos↵millicosmos: somewhat larger↵decicosmos: fits in a bottle, ideal size to put on a shelf and forget
New World Order? Tell me, have you seen any order to our world?↵New World Disorder is our cause. Stronger and more fertile than any order.
Devil priest: “You know there are rules to this? We don’t just take any punk, low quality souls are of no interest to us! Prove your worth.”
Space is viscous here, slows down light to walking speed. Hair standing on end, any sudden movement makes you glow with Cherenkov radiation.
You carry out a heist on Pandora’s box to free Hope’s little sister, but only manage to let Heispair and Fumousity escape. Good job hero~
Stroke your stormcat’s soft gray fur, elicit an explosive purr. (And lightning! Owners, take care to ground your belongings properly)
a society so atomized that even your subselves do not talk to each other anymore
Your opportunity to escape lasts about as long as this sentence - there, gone.
Our new roommate is one quarter frost giant and everybody wants to have him around during summer, dip feet in the cool air wafting off him
a glass knife to cut a light ray, not along its frequencies like a prism, but across so that it shatters and can be harvested
Black will-o’-the-wisps do not glow and cannot hunt in the night. As an alternative, some pretend to be treasure locations on maps.
You find a little mirror on the flea market that looks an hour into the past. You use it to spy on your cute flatmate in the bathroom.