October 2006 Archives

...of old to-be-used-in-PBEM game snippets, now presented for your entertainment.

First, a conversation on the bridge of our very lost starship:

"...so in about an hour, we'll be making our first test opening. If it works, we'll at least have proof of concept on the wormhole reconstruction. No more than a micron across and a couple of picosecs long, but it will be a genuine wormhole back to Lapitha. We think we can get a message down it, as well."

"But allowing for doing protocol, you'll only be able to get, what, a hundred bits or so? What can you send that just our subcarrier won't tell them anyway?"

"Ah, now that was my idea. These are the old Imperial Maritime Codes, from back when navies were wet and we used to have to send everything by EM pulse-code. These days, even though they're still on the optional Board exams, most comms officers have forgotten all about them."

"And what does, ah, QLNVVT QLRCVT CMRNS means?"

"'Am marooned on primitive island. Natives impressed by shiny things, have made self king. Send gunboat to ward off savages from next island.'"

"Inspired."

And second, some travel commentary from our happy and hapless, respectively, commentators:

"From the spike of marble and pearl standing alone on the headland above the bay that is the Viceregal Tower, surmounted by the perfect crystal star that gleams above it in the dawn sky, to the markets of the old town, Patrikiopolis reflects the glories of the three imperial cities that stood previously on this land where Europe, Asia and Africa come together - Istanbul, Constantinople, and Troy."

-- Lonely System: Imperial Earth, Alathlogos Publishing, 2032 A.D.

"Patrikiopolis? Don't go there. The Impies are all over the place, like they think it's all their world. They've got eyes that see right into you, man, and if they don't like what they see, they put things into your head. I can't even think about- ab-" <choke>

-- Jase Leighton, former mugger, Black Constellation Penal Containment Facility Four, Siberia.

...and gods, my ass is tired.

(It's good money and office-work, so I shouldn't complain. But this much in a row in this chair kicks my ass. Literally.)

Going to stand up and walk around for a wee while. Refresh the gluteus.

(Well, everyone seems to be doing these today, so why not.)

Oops! Space doesn't fold that way.

Prime Directive? But they have money!

Contragravity? But this is a spin...

faster than light. We are travelling

I've invented a memetic weapon... aaaargh!

Night falls. But no! Orbiting dreadnought.

So, strangelets.

Are there/could there be also charmlets?

Inquiring minds want to know. Or, at least, I do.

"heliophage"

(With "geophage" a close second.)

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 0 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

(In fact, there are apparently no Alistairs at all. Oh, dear. Must do something about that.

578,939 Youngs, though, 28th most popular last name, and all. Although the concept of last name popularity is somewhat bothersome, seeing as most people don't get to pick one when they're born, and from a very restrictive list when they marry. Somehow, I don't think whatever our equivalent is to deed poll is statistically significant.)

Expect this to tick over come the next census, though.

So, 300 million of us now. Jolly good show, what?

(Well, not strictly "us" yet, I suppose, but happy to contribute to the nonexistent drive towards 400 million.)

One of the most irritating things, at least this morning, about the political Left is that I am now forced to say "pro-progress" to communicate my meaning, since "progressive" has now been redefined to mean "ass-backwards, and probably recycled Marxism that was done better last time".

It tasks me, truly.