Re: Writing thing
Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2013 9:12 pm
New Testingstan
"you said you'd ban me last" "i lied"
https://testingstan.arsdnet.net/forum/
Writing thing
Page 3 of 3
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Wed Nov 27, 2013 1:34 pm
43. She said, "There's three ways of getting to all the different lands. The Faraway Tree, whirlwinds, and Doctor Who's little house."
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2014 4:48 pm
44: http://31.media.tumblr.com/9af34e7be089 ... 2_1280.jpg
More generally, most of the things posted on http://theartofanimation.tumblr.com/
More generally, most of the things posted on http://theartofanimation.tumblr.com/
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2014 7:37 pm
Number 13 ('engine noises')
There's always a choice wrote: ‘Just… don’t think about,’ said Billy, fiddling with his sleeve. Like he always did when a conversation got too serious. Chris shook his head, absently, looking over the edge to the working masses below.
‘How can I not think about it? All those people down there…?’
‘People,’ sneered Billy. ‘You wouldn’t use that word if you’d spoken to them. They’ve no culture – nothing except the turning of the wheel. They don’t even have names.’
Chris leaned over, just a little further, peering down the shaft. It was a long way down, and plumes of smoke billowed up from the chimneys – but it wasn’t the choking, thick, hiding smog Chris remembered from his childhood, three districts away. Though they were little bigger than ants he could see the workers down below, wearing nothing but coats of ash.
‘It’s not right,’ he muttered. ‘You know, their life expectancy—’
‘Of course I know. Does it matter? They’re beasts. And, besides, it’s necessary. There are those that toil, and those that think. The hands and the head.’
‘It’s not right.’
Billy sighed and closed his text book. It was a phase, he knew: one that everyone went through.
‘So, what, you want to go all Moses, then? “Let my people go”, right?’
Chris didn’t answer. Billy sighed and stood up. This was his fault, really – he shouldn’t have brought his friend outside. All it led to was pointless introspection.
‘Come on. We’re going to be late for today’s lecture.’
Chris turned his head at last.
‘What’s on today?’
‘Hrrm… Post-structuralist approaches to the homoeroticism of Sherlock Holmes and the early detective genre, I think.’
Chris’ face lit up at Billy’s words; he licked his teeth, already spinning a few arguments about audience interaction and the non-existence of ‘canon’ in preparation.
‘All right,’ he said, turning away from the balcony’s edge. ‘Let’s see what nonsense Professor Sandiman’s spreading now.’
Billy slapped Chris on the back. Now they were going to do something important, something that mattered – literary criticism. They rushed, together, back inside the gleaming white tower: today, in their small way, they would change the world.
And down below, amongst the dirt and smoke, the toilers continued to toiled.
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2014 3:05 am
Just a small thing from a worldbuilding thing I was writing, I'm just posting it here cause I like how the ending turned out so I don't want to just delete it.
----
Of course, there is additional nesting yet to go, for the Vazdigigi houses the center of the human world, the holy of holies. Before the Steel Era this would have been the Emperor’s central palace. Today, the navel of the world has moved to the World Administration Complex. There is no sacred king in the World Administration Complex, no sacred rituals are performed there, no sacred personages are housed there, no idols are kept, except perhaps a household god in a cubicle here and there – probably not many, the present inhabitants mostly have sentiments on that matter that St. Paul might have approved of. Still, this is the very center of the world. The good materialist rationalists who work here will tell you so.
You are probably chuckling at that, thinking this is a joke at the expense of people who pride themselves on being rational but who still think at a very primitive level, appropriate for a Stone Age priest-king who thinks the mound behind his village is the navel of the world. They would have a similar reaction, upon hearing that a person from advanced wealthy Earth imagines that the centrality of the Vazdigiba must be found in its relationship to the masses of matter in motion that human beings tell into being things.
----
Of course, there is additional nesting yet to go, for the Vazdigigi houses the center of the human world, the holy of holies. Before the Steel Era this would have been the Emperor’s central palace. Today, the navel of the world has moved to the World Administration Complex. There is no sacred king in the World Administration Complex, no sacred rituals are performed there, no sacred personages are housed there, no idols are kept, except perhaps a household god in a cubicle here and there – probably not many, the present inhabitants mostly have sentiments on that matter that St. Paul might have approved of. Still, this is the very center of the world. The good materialist rationalists who work here will tell you so.
You are probably chuckling at that, thinking this is a joke at the expense of people who pride themselves on being rational but who still think at a very primitive level, appropriate for a Stone Age priest-king who thinks the mound behind his village is the navel of the world. They would have a similar reaction, upon hearing that a person from advanced wealthy Earth imagines that the centrality of the Vazdigiba must be found in its relationship to the masses of matter in motion that human beings tell into being things.
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2014 8:55 pm
This is what happens when I challenge myself to write for the sake of it:
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Sat Sep 27, 2014 10:53 pm
New thing I wrote
Completely rushed, not corrected. The goal was to write something before going to sleep.
Prompt was
Completely rushed, not corrected. The goal was to write something before going to sleep.
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Tue Oct 21, 2014 12:49 pm
Not really satisfied with this, but:
Primes wrote: The people of the world below were a sort of hyper-evolved crabs -- except, of course, that they could have not possibly have any biological relation to any Earth creature. Even after all the years, Gimmel-5-2-Shashti found itself defaulting to terrestrial terms. Home-sickness, perhaps. Regardless: the pseudo-crab-people were only the second species Gimmel-5-2-Shashti had observed to develop the use of complex tools, and the only ones to get so far as the telescope.
They could see their doom coming.
Gimmel-5-2-Shashti recorded the preparations the people were making, ready for the biannual transmission back home -- a focused beam aimed at where the Earth should still be, even after all these years. If observed the crab-people building shelters -- most would be woefully inadequate, and even the few that were deep enough and far enough away from the impact point would have complete ecological collapse to deal with. It saw others constructing crude missiles, which mostly failed to break atmosphere. With a few more decades, maybe they could have changed their fate. As it was, nothing their science could produce could save them.
There were riots. There were what appeared to be religious congregations. There were suicides. Gimmel-5-2-Shashti noted them all down, recorded the death-throes of a world, and then...
1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23 -- and on up to 173, and the looping back around to one. The signal repeated again and again and again: a tight beam aimed right at Gimmel-5-2-Shashti. It was the first such signal it had received in a very long time -- the first such signal since shortly after it had left Earth, in fact.
1, 2, 3, 5, 7...
Crabs were, in all likelihood, extinct by now. In all likelihood, so were Gimmel-5-2-Shashti's creators. Even if they survived this, the crab-people of the world below would most likely leave no mark that would still exist in a million years.
But.
Gimmel-5-2-Shashti listened to their broadcasts, watched their rallies and riots. It saw them build their bunkers, even though they must know the futility of doing so. It saw them create their art and continue with their scientific research, in spite of the coming apocalypse. It pondered the signal (...89, 97, 101...): a call for help, it decided. Save Our Souls, space man. A hopeless, desperate plea.
Maybe they would destroy themselves in a decade or two -- they had a rough outline of nuclear physics, so far. Maybe they would survive, unite, and send out their own exploratory probes. That last was a pleasing thought.
Gimmel-5-2-Shashti beamed its final report into the night, then activated its thrusters and set a collision course for the asteroid.
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Tue Oct 21, 2014 12:57 pm
Oh yeah, another prompt (Oxy, could you aggregate these into the first post again please):
'“It is fitting that the first act of sentient AI was an act of selflessness…” – Ryan 192nc9s-1, civil rights campaigner'
'“It is fitting that the first act of sentient AI was an act of selflessness…” – Ryan 192nc9s-1, civil rights campaigner'
Re: Writing thing
Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2015 8:49 pm
Letting people know that I have a blog where I'm going to dump my writing things:
http://harmonywriting.tumblr.com/
http://harmonywriting.tumblr.com/