As night fell, Craig began to get restless. Most of the other researchers had already drifted home to their families, content to immure themselves in little domesticities and forget for just a moment about their work. Craig had no such escape. He had moved across the country for this postdoc, leaving anything he could have gone home to behind. He yawned and pushed towards his terminal, poised to continue work on the simulation monitoring software he was working on. The cursor blinked, but no code came. Frustrated, he pushed his chair back and paced the room. The whole project was at an impasse. They had managed to simulate a past generation of life successfully, but to what end? What results were they even looking for? No doubt their simulants would create their own simulated pasts at some point, but that was hardly interesting. He spun 180 degrees in his chair and then 180 degrees again. A thought hit him. The system was tight, but maybe if he entered the exact right series of commands, he could make the simulation execute arbitrary code….
Somewhere in Los Angeles David rose to face another high school day. The sun poked through his blinds in little horizontal strips, playing over him as he rolled out of bed and dressed. He left his room and descended the stairs towards breakfast. Taking the first step, a huge “boom” echoed in his head. He paused on the stair for a moment then continued. Moving to the second step brought only dizziness. He paused, closing his eyes.
With a deep breath, he opened them once more. Suddenly, somehow, he was now in the kitchen. But something was wrong. His mother and father lay perpendicular to the floor, stiff as boards, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. He tried to look down at his body, only to realize he now had none. He was just a head on linoleum, mere inches from the waxed floor.Out of the void a demonic beep sounded, and he began to roll towards his mother. Still on her side, she adjusted slightly to meet his course, propelled by some unknown volition. Tom bounced off of her midsection and rolled back towards his father, a scream perpetually sounding from his lips..
Craig guffawed as he whipped his paddle around to meet the oncoming ball. He’d have to have the other researchers try to beat his high score. Talk about a a good Friday night.
laserjet printer nailed to the wall, covered in arcane symbols. something happened here….but WHAT
and so bigmouth billy bass died for our sins preserving our ability to put pop songs of yore in single-use ICs
Fanfiction Challenge - Antipodeans
What an Antipodean (from Richard Rorty’s Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature) Raymond Carver would look like?
"My father sat there drinking his beer in a manner that would indicate neuronal bundle 8B, but by activating your neuronal bundle 111 I am indicating that it could in fact be his bundle 8_A_ that was activating"
twitch.tv speedrunners give in to fan-requested slash fantasies for a big subscriber boost. the broadcast highlights play on ellen. someone prints t-shirts.