From b4a4cc95583723ac96eb04d9ba5e12c80b4ce9dc Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Mon, 14 Mar 2022 21:25:16 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/006.html | 4 ++-- 1 file changed, 2 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/006.html b/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/006.html index 86a2fc176..4fcdb6de8 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/006.html +++ b/writing/post-self/neviim/local/tycho/006.html @@ -17,7 +17,7 @@

Convergence T-19 days, 4 hours, 33 minutes

The sight of the dissemination of the news of Artemis was beautiful in much the same way that a ballet was. This was, he supposed, largely due to the well-coordinated dance of both messages flying back and forth and countless Odists and Jonases moving back in forth in the largest of the conference rooms he’d seen yet.

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He knew that there were sims where one could fly. Flying, after all, fit well within the realm of something that any number of people could consensually imagine together. They held a perennial appeal to a certain type of person, of which he was not one. A fear of heights combined with a certain neurotic work ethic led him to stay away from those sims in general. If it was fun and not also productive, he felt little need to engage. It may have been unhealthy, it may not have been, but he had never stuck around anyone long enough to hear either way.

+

He knew that there were sims where one could fly. Flying, after all, fit well within the realm of something that any number of people could consensually imagine together. They held a perennial appeal for a certain type of person, of which he was not one. A fear of heights combined with a certain neurotic work ethic led him to stay away from those sims in general. If it was fun and not also productive, he felt little need to engage. It may have been unhealthy, it may not have been, but he had never stuck around anyone long enough to hear either way.

Now, however, he could see the utility.

A whiteboard had sprouted up from the floor, beginning at waist height for the shorter 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.

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He declined to mention this, however. The last thing he wanted was another poke in the side.