July 5th, 2003


On the upward curve

I found the problem with the laptop: Turns out I had a loose screw inside the case (and had for the past year and a half or so, but never looked for), and this had finally decided that instead of interfering with some of the power distribution, it was going to fuck up the data-write to my hard drive -- it was the back screw holding the HD in place -- a miracle this had not happened earlier.

With the screw replaced and everything re-seated for luck, I would have been set. Were not the FAT damaged and about twenty core filed all cross-linked. Fortunately, I had already managed to back everything up. I thought "what the bollocks" and reformatted and re-installed. Everything's back, after downloading needed drivers and updates. Well, everything apart from all that backed-up stuff, which I haven't had chance to restore yet. All in time. At least I got to finally make sure I no longer had that useless crap that Packard Bell had decided to install that I never fully deleted...

The only thing I can't get back (yet) appears to be my copy of PowerDVD. Full version, installed registered with the machine. Can I find it on the CDs that came with the device? Can I fuckery. And I can't find a place to just acquire the full version without shelling out money, which I do not want to do as I already have a fucking license for the software and I am not paying for another one. Bollocks.

Slavetrader interviews yesterday and today. Have to keep in touch just to see that they have nothing for me, the usual tripe. I'd prefer a proper job, but it looks like one of those may not be soon in coming. Bah. At east while I was in town I was able to meet up with an old acquaintance, who's been working at the gaming store here for at least six years (as that's how long the place has been open). Got a copy of Abyssals with 15% off as a "graduation bonus", so I wasn't complaining. Looks to be good shit, as well. Got to dig out the rest of my Exalted stuff as well, at some point. I have been fired up.

Unfortunately, my reading was disturbed by the return of my dad and brother from the pub. And seeing as it's his birthday tomorrow my dad was pissed as a fart[1], staggering everywhere and generally the two of them were being noisy, boring fucks. Not in the entertaining way of cool, funny people who happen to be merry or high and use that to their advantage, no. We're talking stumbling into door frames, swaying whilst walking, reciting of really and truly lame jokes as if they were from the Voice of Humour himself. That kind of faintly sad drunk, where everyone else knows you've imbibed your way past merry, and you're the only one that doesn't realise this. I must be weird, but the only time I can get some time alone with my thoughts and a net connection is at night, when everyone else is in bed. Them sitting in the same room being arses is not what I consider to be conductive to this. In fact, I consider it really bloody annoying, especially when I have to take a break in the middle of a particularly fun little post in order to shepherd them both upstairs to bed whilst making sure they don't fall and break anything.

Freakishly strange dream last night. I don't remember details, like I did with the other two I've LJ'd. This is more snippets. Last week of university, back at the house. Skinning up a joint that never seems to get any less smoked. Something about it all being over, a project (which seemed to be something to do with the joint) being lost. The joint was acting as a painkiller, as something painful had happened. It's probably a combination of subconscious tobacco cravings, the fact I now no longer know anyone who can sort me out with some good bud, and standard graduation anxiety. The lack of weed is really starting to piss me off, as it reminds me of one of the many reasons I really hate being home: I don't know anyone. Of the people I know at university, the nearest is an hour and a half away and I have no transport. Of the people I knew before university, I've lost contact with all but Paul. Apart from the acquaintance at the gaming shop, I know nobody here who isn't family. Fuck, if I want to go get drunk I have to go with my dad. I'm twenty two, no longer at university and have no life any more. Bollocks.

On a last note, I hate it when people I know not decide that they're going to engage in banter with me online. It gives them a warm fuzzy because they think they know me well enough to do that, and all it does is piss me off at their presumption that they have to do such without simply being able to hang around being intelligent and waiting to stand out from the crowd on their own fucking merit.

[1]: Here's a hint -- He's not yet fifty.
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I've had the title in my head for a while. Only just figured out what to do with it.


A story

by Stewart Wilson

Four days from now, the Starsmore Institute will announce that they have unlocked a means of instant transportation that will make aeroplanes, helicopters and ships all redundant. Distance, on the planet at least, will become irrelevant. They're using applied philosophy, as well as some bleeding edge physics and metaphysical thoughtmachines to shunt matter into concept-space and re-form it. It's not been tested, but it will be unveiled in such a way as to make it's unveiling impossible to cover up.

They are going to move Lady Liberty back to France.

The philosopher-engineers have made breakthrough after breakthrough in getting things just right. Theyve found a way to tap into the global subconsciousness, moving objects there by translating them through multiple dimensions: eight spacial, five temporal, and three Platonic. The end result is that whatever is being moved is shunted out to the collective subconscious thought-field that orbits the planet without ever being seen. Then all you do is focus people in the delivery area on the object you are delivering, bringing it back into the conscious, and voila. Their minds provide enough energy to start the thought-machine which is beamed to them, and the object is dragged back into physical existance.

They've not thought of the applications of this technology, and this is without the implications of distanceless transport (for who is to say that humans cannot be turned into thought-forms?). The only way to focus people in both sending and recieving is by a large amount of sattelites with giant meme guns, beaming consciousness alterations that end up changing reality. Meme guns are banned for even military use, of course. There's just something wrong with being able to shoot an self-propagating autocannibalisation meme at anyone, even if they are soldiers. Yet there are all of these meme guns in space.

How do we avoid tampering, then? The simplest answer, since we now have a worldwidecovering of the damn things, would be to bombard the world with a simple memetic command not to attempt to damage the sattelites. But what about those with deep level neuroprogramming, who have set up baflers? You can imagine at least twenty governments keeps people like this around deliberately for such things, shedding meme-infected personalities like a snake sheds it's skin. Now, imagine them all tryig to break in to what amounts to a planetwide branwashing facility.

Yes. That's what this is. The whole thing is being sold under the "mass transit" angle, but the Starsmore Institute just wants to make people think the way it thinks. The only way to avoid the double-blanks is to carpet the planet with viral placidity. But, as with all viruses, some mutations will occur. These mutated thoughts will infect others, accruing the sub- and unconscious detritus that humanity walks through every day, unaware as it is the backdrop of the level of reality ascribed to the consciousness, that we never see. They will begin to evolve consciousness.

Imagine that, children. A handful of viral consciousnesses moving themselves instantly from place to place, unifying the populace. Hives of people, each working together with the thought-machines that created their overarching metamind to trawl the Platonic Forms for impossibly beautiful creations that will be used as weapons of war.

This will come to pass, I know. It happened once before, before your planet was created. Where we now stand is the memetic distribution point we used, and that destroyed us. I was the only one left, by virtue of being here, as opposed to the surface.

It is a lonely life on the Moon. Perhaps you would join me?