rapt and rictus

A clutch of topology junkies laid into a ladyboy smoking Planck thyme. They inverted the poor fucker without creating a cuff. The antiquated nanofuzz pulsed a press meme to all the major meat drives. Billions would dream of haunting mugshots and Metatrons booming: 'Have you seen this man?'. The post-mythic deconstructionists sip blood and milk in a Maori cafe, grimacing at the ethanethiol stink of the living dead turning the corner before the zombies do. Quantum uncertainty ghouls. Supplicants of Schrodinger's corpse. The leader carries a caterwauling box with no air holes. Obsolete nanodrive PCs are rendered down to a carbohydrate feed paste for livestock traversing the galaxy. Since Chuck Seven Tusp broke the femto barrier, the near orbit scrapyards won't pay more than fifty thousand terrans a kilo for nanoform media. The rest goes to the dole houses so the poor bastard kids have something to learn on. Very few people alive today know the gut level despair of growing up using outdated media. It does something to one's resolve.



A thought bulletin screeches intrusively through the brains of a North America at the dinner table. A few dozen vacuum adapted belt miners- godlike things who prance through space with no aide- were flung from their silicate bore as its attitude jets misfired. Forever they will float, in the postures of snow angels. Closed biologies that make food from monohydrogen. There faces both rapt and rictus.



The investigation of the attempted assassination of a child who will be president years from now has revealed that he will lose the future election anyway. No one bothered to shift the bullet from where it waits for its victims heart, two decades hence.



What hasn't been made public was who our almost president lost to. Her name is Bluish James, the first president on welfare while holding office. Oh yes. Yes



A boy in First Chicago was arrested yesterday for checking the future to see if he will graduate cum laudi. Charges were dropped since he only observed his graduation. The Travelstone case of Broken Earth Noon provided the precedent. In quasi-Europe the latest fad seems to be world tinting. Cindy Secondsago has mostly reds and pinks and omits all grays and shadows. She does a pulsecolumn on sensourium customizing. Think here to download it.

The Schrodinger ghouls know. They know that forty minutes to the left of winter the far-flung space workers will return, having slingshot themselves around some default moon.

I don't know I'll know how to tell you this, but the vacuum adapted will return changed, like demigods having performed feats.

On the Ceres Manufact there is a dome called Place where its occupants are soaked in time oil and forced into the evolution of every conceivable ecological niche. Already a product is being marketed to the vampire sentients in its walls; Lac. Blood, milk and sugar. Already, recombinant focus groups are now in beta testing for mass production.

You can see them now, can't you? Those far-flung gods. They will make us all monsters. They will antiquate conscience.They will put us through agonizing alterations, and shove us naked out of airlocks. They'll give us horror and altered fluids. And we'll all be the better for it. Sipping blood, milk and sugar, our faces rapt and rictus.