semiotic_pirate: (boat on land)
The following flash fiction piece was inspired by the events in and around Paris this past week. I wanted to think of a way that it might come up in a history book in the far future. Although the events themselves turned out to be an unshown footnote reference in something that might be taken for Asimov's Encyclopedia Galactica, I felt it important to note here the inspiration for the piece (if it wasn't obvious, and for posterity.) Note that the description about the Satirical Mode was inspired by a comment made by [livejournal.com profile] bart_calendar in a post by [livejournal.com profile] theferrett.

The Offerings )

Carpe diem; uti verba ad succedunt. Historiae
Excerpt Requested: Book 543,625,559; Page 39,944; Section 432.59-432.60

The Advocates were known to employ their phalanxes in the creation of words and pictures, using the graphite and ink bound tools of their forebears as well as the ASCII encoded characters of their peers. Their words were organized and led by pilcrows, set to act against the walls of arrogance and in the service of their clients, the downtrodden.

Pictures used by The Advocates acted to interosculate people with the concepts described in the aforementioned words. Depending upon the assigned methodology, these pictures could cause high levels of emotional distress and were able to cause extreme reactions in certain populations. One of the most potent types of interosculators were made us of in the Satirical Mode. The effectiveness of the Satirical Mode, whose main function was to create images and content that is so offensive that it forced a dialogue about serious issues that were often swept under the nanoplating, was thought to be well worth the risk of any potential threat posed by these reactions.
semiotic_pirate: (Juicy Oranges)
When recently reading through my prior flash fiction and short story writings I felt a little bit of inspiration to try my hand at it again. I'm not sure what will come of today's offerings because I was better at blocking out the budding story forming in my mind this time through. Let's see what happens, shall we?

The Offerings )

The Most Honorable Zalaznichkiv

Zalaznichkiv was ignorant of the specific rules of public broadcasts, only having recently risen to the rank of Urbanet in the surrounding collectivist region. The most current molt had revealed the required purple scales along the anodyne extrusion ports. It was the inevitable result that the citizen's affectation would gather unwanted, intermittent attention.

For one thing, the citizen has no flair for the tangential modes of the emissivity-based communication favored with the newsbot drones and flitters that were constantly traveling in orbit around Zal's sphere of influence, with random spot checks done via parallel movement and the unexpected, perpendicular zoom-in when transverse to the prized line-of-sight selfie-shot angle. Zal had a way of choosing to stay focused on subjects, as well as on objects, akin to the much fabled bulldog, not letting go until every juicy ounce of factual data had been squeezed from the quantum state at hand.

Even the Crystalline Claque that had followed Zal's movements since the day the citizen was decanted from the bioegg gestation creche were confused as to when or whether they should show their support, act to gently intercede, or descend in a flock upon the naysayin disgruntlers that reared up and jibed fondly over Zal's inability to rapidly fritter through the multitude of quanta scattered across the citizens' field of motion.

The newest Urbanet in the universe was finally confronted as to whether even the basic notion that there existed the ability to focus one's attention should be seen as sacriligious by the Key Elements. How could such a basic act of factitious engineering go so wrong? What would happen to society if any citizen started focusing on single events, subjects, or objects willy-nilly? It might even initiate a verschränkung superposition resolution and run the chance of the entire Crendipinous Jumpire collapsing into a random collection of planet-bound, talentless schlubs, scattered across the multiverse, locking the lot of them into a linear existence.
semiotic_pirate: formerly main AVI from LJ days in the long long ago (Pirate_Main_Icon)
Do any of you writer folk think it matters if I keep my shoebox full of writing ideas here? I'm going to do it, unless I hear otherwise.

Was just texting with a friend across the pond and got asked as to whether I or DH lost a pair of reading glasses when we stayed with them this past summer. My reply was:

Nope. Neither of us uses them. Maybe you had that new kind of burglar, doesn't take anything but the knowledge from your books.


This got me to thinking. And by thinking, I mean: "OH MY, GREAT SPAGHETTI MONSTER I FEEL A FULLY FORMED STORY TRYING TO CRACK MY HEAD OPEN IN AN EGG-LIKE MANNER AND HOLY WORDSMITH ON HIGH WHAT THE HELL?!"

So let me get the bare bones of this bird out of my head before it pierces my brain and makes me unable to function at work later. Because I have to be able to do the math and report writing that THEY need me to do while there.
To watch me as I conduct this bonectomy, you'll have to dig deeper. )

Was that amorphous and do you now feel like you've awoken from a weird, but cool, dreamscape-based alternate reality? That's how I feel now, after writing it. Off to get ready to face the days challenges. *swings off ship via rope to the bathhouse adjacent to the dock*

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