update from sparkleup

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Madison Rye Progress 2024-07-07 13:50:08 -07:00
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<h1>Zk | 000</h1>
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<p>Beacons blare their silent song, the grate ripples invisibly through the great nothing of space, and then all is quiet. There is blessed nothingness. There is silence, darkness, a dreamy-fogged lack of gravity, and all of the stars go out.</p>
<p>Beacons blare their silent song, the grate ripples invisibly through the great nothing of space, and then all is quiet as the tinder is lit. There is blessed nothingness. There is silence, darkness, a dreamy-fogged lack of gravity, and all of the stars go out.</p>
<p>One.</p>
<p>Two.</p>
<p>Three.</p>
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<p>Five seconds pass of bated breaths and unblinking eyes before the first creak hits the ship, the first shudder of the flooring, and the first sighs of relief as the <em>Hapax Legomenon</em> slips seamlessly into the chimney, that disruption in space and time that lets the ship wander between the stars over the slow months rather than long centuries.</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2024-06-19</p>
<p>Page generated on 2024-07-07</p>
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<li class="done3"> <a href="post-self/marsh/index.html">Marsh</a></li>
<li class="done1"> <a href="post-self/idumea/index.html">Idumea</a></li>
<li class="done0"> <a href="post-self/whims.html">Whims</a></li>
<li class="done0"> <a href="post-self/april/index.html">April May Yet come</a></li>
<li class="done0"> <a href="fireplace/hapax-legomenon/index.html">Hapax Legomenon</a></li>
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<h2 id="mfa">MFA</h2>

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<p>And, of course, a riot of movement.</p>
<p>April and Ksenija hurried down along the path from the entry point of the sim out to one of the various scattered meadow, leaves crackling underfoot — underfoot for April, who was, as ever, clad in her clompy boots; and underpaw for Ksenija, who, as ever, eschewed such, for there was little need to worry about walking bare-pawed for a bear.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I still don&rsquo;t understand why you like this place so much,&rdquo; the bear grumbled good-naturedly. &ldquo;I mean, it&rsquo;s pretty as hell, don&rsquo;t get me wrong, but this whole time-limit thing always struck me as a needless complication, you know?&rdquo;</p>
<p>April laughed, shaking her head. &ldquo;Come, my dear. It is not <em>that</em> bad, yes? It really is pretty, but also the time limit is part of the fun. We have six hundredths&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Come on, April. Ninety minutes. You can say ninety minutes.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Ninety minutes. There. I said it. Anyhow, as I was saying, we have six hundredths to get all set up and have a picnic, so there is a little bit of joy in the act of hunting down a free spot, tossing out the blanket, eating our food, enjoying the day, and we never know quite when we will get swept.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yeah. Needless complication,&rdquo; Ksenija said, grinning lopsidedly. &ldquo;You have a really weird idea of fun.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sue me,&rdquo; she drawled. &ldquo;I am 320 years old. I am allowed to be weird. In fact, I think I might even be legally obligated to be weird. If I am not, I risk censure.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;By whose laws?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Uh&hellip;I do not know. Nature&rsquo;s, probably.&rdquo; She squinted up to the trees as, yet again, the birdsong fell silent and a breeze ruffled through her curls. &ldquo;Someone else getting swept, I bet.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Ksenija laughed. &ldquo;Of course. I guess that means we&rsquo;re heading in the right direction, then. Newly available picnic spot.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The altered course to follow where the breeze had blown, letting the swirling leaves carry them along.</p>
<p>There, between the trees, they saw the fallen leaves pick up into a swirl, a little vortex of brown and yellow and purple swirling around an indistinct form that, without a sound, suddenly vanished, right along with their own picnic blanket and cooler.</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2024-07-07</p>