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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2021-12-19 22:00:04 -08:00
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writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/006.md
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@ -6,11 +6,11 @@ He knew that there were sims where one could fly. Flying, after all, fit well wi
Now, however, he could see the utility.
A whiteboard had sprouted up from the floor, beginning at waist height for the Odists and extending by now a storey and a half up. Panels on it showed the news feeds and commentaries piped in through the perisystem architecture, that foam of conceptual computer-stuff that tied all of the sim together and allowed cross-sim communications.
A whiteboard had sprouted up from the floor, beginning at waist height for the Odists and extending up by now a storey and a half. Panels on it showed the news feeds and commentaries piped in through the perisystem architecture, that foam of conceptual computer-stuff that tied all of the sims together and allowed cross-sim communications.
Even now, as more news flowed into the board, it would pop up from the bottom and the whiteboard would inch ever higher.
And standing before it, whether or not they were standing on the ground or however many feet above it, Odists and Jonases worked, tagging each of the feeds with arcane symbols, drawing lines from one to the other, conversing in small knots, popping into existence and quitting as needed.
And standing before it, whether or not they were standing on the ground or however many meters above it, Odists and Jonases worked, tagging each of the feeds with arcane symbols, drawing lines from one to the other, conversing in small knots, popping into existence and quitting as needed.
This involved none of the graceful floating that ey had seen before on eir excursions to sims whose owners allowed such. They were not drifting about on the breeze, they were simply standing on something that was not there. If they needed to move to another level, they would simply walk as though on a ramp or step up as though on a ladder. It was productive movement at its very core, and it immediately appealed to him.
@ -46,11 +46,11 @@ Despite the heat burning in his cheeks, Answers Will Not Help's suggestion helpe
"Is that just my name now?"
"Might as fucking well be." She walked over to one one of the panels of news feed. This was labeled *Science* beneath, and seemed to head up a column of related material. "Might as well start here."
"Might as fucking well be." She walked over to one one of the panels of news feed. This was labeled *Science* beneath, and seemed to head up a column of related material. "Let us just start here."
Studiously avoiding looking down, he read the contents of the panel.
> On systime 227+52 2328, the Dreamer Module on Castor received a structured message from an external source, alerting scientists and perisystem technicians to an external source. The message, which follows at the end of the post, suggested that entity or entities at the other end of the signal understood the instructions for utilizing the Ansible receiver, provided course information, and asked for consent to upload. Consent was granted two minutes, thirteen seconds later by a member of the astronomical community. Further messages have been exchanged, and talks are underway for an exchange of emissaries.
> On systime 227+52 2328, the Dreamer Module on Castor received a structured message from an external source, alerting scientists and perisystem technicians to a fast-moving artificial construct. The message, which follows at the end of the post, suggested that entity or entities at the other end of the signal understood the instructions for utilizing the Ansible receiver, provided trajectory information, and asked for consent to upload. Consent was granted two minutes, thirteen seconds later by a member of the astronomical community. Further messages have been exchanged, and talks are underway for an exchange of emissaries.
*A member of the astronomical community* was a much better way to describe him that he suspected the Odists might otherwise.