The GCU What the Fuck? cruised the energy grid of upper hyperspace with a carefree nonchalance that other Minds rolled their metaphorical eyes at. It was perhaps over-compensating for the 1000 tightbeams a second it sent to the last recorded location to the drone Terpsichore ap Xanthe light-years ahead of its current location.
Drones were Minds of their own, as fully sentient as a ship Mind, if not as impressively well-endowed in body or computational ability. Still smarter than your average pan-human though, god bless their souls.
Terpsichore ap Xanthe con Leche, Terp to its friends, was unusual by Culture Mind standards. Minds were probably the greatest achievement of mankind and the funny part was they themselves were too limited to appreciate just how impressive the vast intelligences that kept them like pets really were. Pan-human culture had evolved beyond god, gotten bored, created some gods who created even more impressive gods and then contented itself to being kept affectionately as pets by beings they steadfastly refused to worship. To say the Culture was a pile of contractions with a smooth, slick sheen of orgiastic hedonism was to engage in admirable understatement.
So while humanity fucked itself raw and came up for air, hydration and meaningful employment, Culture Minds and Culture Ships bent the material world like modeling clay. Minds had no particular interest in hedonism or sex, but pro-created enthusiastically, creating Minds large and small in scope.
Drones were Minds fashioned to fit the scale of pan-human life. Your average Culture human could and would talk to ships and orbital hubs without a second thought, but Drones were, at least unconsciously, more approachable. They were right there "in the shit" when things got rough. Drones were Minds a person could fit their arms around. This was generally regarded as Important.
Some Minds, as Terp knew well, did not want anyone's arms or fields all that close to them. These were Minds created for the solitudes of interstellar space. As a Level 8 civilization, the Culture compromised an impressively large section of galactic space, even by Level 8 civ standards, but the thing about galaxies was they were mind-boggling huge in scope. Think of the biggest thing you can imagine. Galaxies were, uh, much bigger than that. Look, you're cute and all, but only a Culture Mind really understood how mind-bogglingly big space is.
The Drone Terpsichore ap Xanthe con Leche liked solitude fine. In theory it could be sending messages back through hyperspace to ships and hubs and, I suppose, pan-human Culture citizens, but the truth was it preferred its own company. As it was designed to.
The edges of Culture space were generally bordered by other galactic civs that the Culture was honor-bound to play nice with. And beyond that, more civs that other civs may or may not be playing nice with. And beyond that, an ocean of unexplored stars. The thing about galaxies is they were huge. Billions of stars is a lot, even for semi-immortal machine intelligences adept as surfing the skein of hyperspace for fun and profit.
The Culture Minds had long since quietly curbed the aggressive expansionist tendencies of the pan-human primate, channeling those energies into championing freedom, liberty, self-definition, and being kept like pets by their own machines. It might have been a scandal if anyone could break themselves away from perpetual self-indulgence.
But Minds like knowing, and beyond the edges of Culture space there lingered the unknown. So minds pushed outwards, sending solitary drones on survey probe missions ahead of the contact units trawling faithfully behind.
Hyperspace engines tended to be big, which was why ships tended to have them and drones did not. But ships could shoot drones foreward, skimming them across the cusp of hyperspace like stones on a pond to systems on the survey route. Drone Minds who volunteered for this were generally considered to be unstable daredevils by their peers, with good reason.
Terpsichore ap Xanthe con Leche had chosen its name, much like ships did, as a sort of joke. It meant nothing. Drone names typically designated home orbitals and design parentage but in the Culture taking the piss was always a correct option, so Terp had a laugh. A name was a name. Any meta-data another Mind might need was always embedded in the transmission protocols it sent anyway. The great thing about not being a hedonistic primate was information transfers could be dense and meaningful. A Mind could process Terp as fast as it could process Terpsichore ap Xanthe con Leche and "arriving at system X230Q826" as fast as it could 100 lines of detailed positional coordinates and a detailed flight log.
So when Terpsichore ap Xanthe con Leche arrived at X230Q826 and simply said, "Oh THAT'S interesting." before going silent, the GCU What the Fuck? was understandably concerned.
November 11, 2018
Incarnate Fragment
Diana shoveled EZ-noodlez into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in a day. "Wait, why should I ask him out? If he's so great maybe YOU should ask him out."
"Wait," Isaac said, finger upraised cautiously.
"Me?" Chore said, ignoring Isaac. "One day," he started, gently lowering Isaac's protest finger, "I decided to train with Ares. He was built like a truck and has a, uh, intensity of focus and I wondered what it might be like to have ALL THAT," Chore said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Ares' body and energy, "focused on me for a little while."
"So you won't ask Isaac out because you got shot down by the God of War in a clumsy attempt at seduction?"
"First of all," Chore said, raising his own protest finger, "How dare you. Second, who said anything about rejection? Some gods are good at wrestling and some gods are good at ... variations on that theme." He grinned around his own mouthful of noodlez.
"Oh." Said Diana. She looked at Chore for a long moment. "OH. I see." She waved a fork at Isaac, "And our boy here, doesn't have the, ah, intensity you have become accustomed to in your dalliances?"
"That," said Chore, slurping the last of his soup, "And he seems kind of uptight about bedding men."
"I've noticed that about him." Diana said.
"Wait," Dianna said, "let's talk about how you were related to Ares."
"Oh, absolutely not." Chore said, nodding his head at Isaac, "I don't think our boy here's ready for that either."
Isaac, who was studiously focused on his own noodlez consumption simply said, "I hate you both."
"Fair." Diana said.
"You love it." Chore said, grin growing wider.
Isaac said nothing. He really did.
"Wait," Isaac said, finger upraised cautiously.
"Me?" Chore said, ignoring Isaac. "One day," he started, gently lowering Isaac's protest finger, "I decided to train with Ares. He was built like a truck and has a, uh, intensity of focus and I wondered what it might be like to have ALL THAT," Chore said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Ares' body and energy, "focused on me for a little while."
"So you won't ask Isaac out because you got shot down by the God of War in a clumsy attempt at seduction?"
"First of all," Chore said, raising his own protest finger, "How dare you. Second, who said anything about rejection? Some gods are good at wrestling and some gods are good at ... variations on that theme." He grinned around his own mouthful of noodlez.
"Oh." Said Diana. She looked at Chore for a long moment. "OH. I see." She waved a fork at Isaac, "And our boy here, doesn't have the, ah, intensity you have become accustomed to in your dalliances?"
"That," said Chore, slurping the last of his soup, "And he seems kind of uptight about bedding men."
"I've noticed that about him." Diana said.
"Wait," Dianna said, "let's talk about how you were related to Ares."
"Oh, absolutely not." Chore said, nodding his head at Isaac, "I don't think our boy here's ready for that either."
Isaac, who was studiously focused on his own noodlez consumption simply said, "I hate you both."
"Fair." Diana said.
"You love it." Chore said, grin growing wider.
Isaac said nothing. He really did.
January 29, 2018
A History of Man
The rumblings and growls that made up wrymtongue were translated by a vocoder, worn traditionally on the right ear, stylized in the traditional manner of House Jagged. Which is to say, it was pointy and uncomfortable, but you got used to it. Of course, you had to.
Hyggnr was in a good mood today. As he surveyed Brimstone from high on his Aerie, he began to lecture Task as he often did when the sun was high and the breeze had just the right amount of sulphur.
"It wasn't always going to be this way," the vocoder chirped in Task's ear, as wyrmtongue reverberated through his skull. "Believe it or not, ape-man, this world was once meant to be yours."
Task continued sweeping without interruption, always aware of the great eye that would sweep back to check on him from time to time. But like many of Hyggnr's wild tales, he gave it little mind. Still, he listened politely as he swept.
"Ah, I can see that has piqued your interest," rumbled Hyggnr, as he always did regardless of Task's reaction. "Truthfully, we would never have known if not for Falgyr's happy great discovery. Although happy accident, is more like if you follow my meaning."
Task did not follow, and was breathing through his mouth occasionally as relief from the over-powering smell of sulphur. You'd think you'd get used to it, but you never did.
Hyggnr stretched his claws briefly, and yawned, loudly and without flame before continuing. "Should you be impertinent enough to ask him, which you would not unless you aspired to snack status, he will swear to you that he summoned great powers and divined the future with clarity and purpose."
He glanced at Task. "Man thing, " he said, "what are dragons?"
Task looked at the great eye and said, "Dragons are magic." inclined his head slightly, and continued sweeping a floor that every day seemed endless.
"Yes we are. Yes we are!" Hyggnr laughed, shaking the tower briefly as his sides heaved. "Isn't it wonderful? And what is magic? Chaos! Chaos. I tell you the truth, although it doesn't leave this room." His long head and snout moved in conspiratorially, towards task in a manner that was not entirely comfortable. Random snacks and violence had long been the human condition under dragon rule.
Task swept casually as the great head leaned in, pointedly ignoring his master's breath. "Yes, lord. Of course." He said. Breath aside, Hyggnr's stories could be entertaining, upon reflection, later in the evening, after the existential nervousness had passed.
"He sneezed." Hyggnr whispered, laughing as he leaned back, delighted. "He sneezed performing a relatively simple translocation spell and somehow, in a way that no drake has ever been able to duplicate, slipped sideways and forwards into another world!"
"Can you guess what he saw there?" Hyggnr studied his well-trained and submissive man-thing and sighed. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't, the possibility having long since passed. I will tell you. You! Well, not YOU. But you lot. He saw an entire world run by and for man-thing. Humon kind I think they called themselves. Adorable."
Here Hyggnr paused, grabbing a sheep out of the snack bowl and masticating happily. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"It was horrifying, of course. Millions of you running around, leading drab, purposeless lives. Hundreds of towers but no aeries. No Dragons! What purpose could there be, without dragon magic in their lives. One shudders at the thought."
And so he did, setting the floor all wobbly, as he dramatically sent shivers down his massive body.
"Curious and appalled, Falgyr mesmered himself to man-thing size and shape and walked among them seeking answers. The language was easy enough to translate, and he soon found himself at a place of knowledge. A lie-brary I think he called it. And can you guess what he found?"
Hygnnr paused dramatically, "Horror! Not only were there no dragons in this sad man-city. There were no dragons anywhere! I tell you, I nearly vomited at the mere thought!"
Task kept sweeping, but quickly thrust aside the image of Hyggnr vomiting. He had seen a great drake vomit before. Those poor people.
"And would you believe why?" Hyggnr held his foreclaw to his chest, clearly trying to maintain composure. "You lot! You grubby man-things hunted us to extinction. The nerve! The appalling mendacity! Dragons are MAGIC." Hyggnr cast his eye accusingly at his faithful servant.
Task very, very carefully attended his duties, a single bead of sweat sliding slowly down his brow. "Dragons are magic, yes my lord." Task said carefully, with as much obsequiousness and feigned outrage on his lord's behalf as he could cram into one sentence.
"Yes, well, I see you are as shocked as I was. I can hardly blame you. Even your tiny mind should grasp such an awful idea. That it should even be possible ..."
Hyggnr paused, looking contemplatively off into the distance. Beyond Brimstone, perhaps beyond time and space itself. Task didn't know. Dragons were magic and man-things were well-trained monkeys. Or so the dragons insisted.
"Of course," he said thoughtfully, "we were not always as we are now. We were always magic, of course, but for a very long while we were ... what's the word. Anti-social? Isolated? In any case, in those days you would never see so many aeries nestled so closely, and the high culture of our cities was still centuries away. We lived alone and we loved it. We preferred other dragons out of sight and out of mind and mated rarely and with extreme suspicion. In many ways it was an ideal time for us, but as Falgyr's accident showed, it also made us susceptible to slaughter by an assertive and rapidly expanding society of belligerent primates."
Hygnnr returned to the present, his great eye lolling back to Task again. "Falgyr, of course, was mortified. As any one of us might have been, and recalled himself to his point of origin. With translocation spells, you see, it is far easier to come back than to go."
"And from there, the rest is history." Hyggnr was relaxed again, enjoying the day. "At great personal risk to himself he approached each of us at our caves or aeries and convened a great council, convincing us of the danger, at times letting us see this future imperfect through his own eyes, until we banded together and gave great purpose to your enthusiastic but undirected striving. A lucky accident for you, don't you think?"
"Indeed, my lord." Feigned gratitude was a skill one learned early with masters who had such large teeth and larger appetites. Task was nearly finished now, emptying the last stray scale into the bin. "Is there anything more at the moment?
"I am hungry my Task. Have we more sheep?" Hyggnr was eyeing Task for some sort of reaction, and pleased to find none.
"I believe so, sire. Shall I fetch them." Having enough sheep (or cows or what-have-you), had become a vital skill to the man-thing that didn't relish being part of the menu. Hungry dragons didn't discriminate. And there were always more man-things.
"Do." Hyggnr settled in looking over the proud architecture of Brimstone, profoundly satisfied with the world as a whole, and himself in particular. How could he not be? Dragons were magic. Himself most of all.
Task retreated out and down, gathering sheep for his master's next meal. And as he did, he thought of something he had not thought of since he was a child: a world without dragons.
And in complete defiance of all good sense, he did not put it immediately from his mind.
Hyggnr was in a good mood today. As he surveyed Brimstone from high on his Aerie, he began to lecture Task as he often did when the sun was high and the breeze had just the right amount of sulphur.
"It wasn't always going to be this way," the vocoder chirped in Task's ear, as wyrmtongue reverberated through his skull. "Believe it or not, ape-man, this world was once meant to be yours."
Task continued sweeping without interruption, always aware of the great eye that would sweep back to check on him from time to time. But like many of Hyggnr's wild tales, he gave it little mind. Still, he listened politely as he swept.
"Ah, I can see that has piqued your interest," rumbled Hyggnr, as he always did regardless of Task's reaction. "Truthfully, we would never have known if not for Falgyr's happy great discovery. Although happy accident, is more like if you follow my meaning."
Task did not follow, and was breathing through his mouth occasionally as relief from the over-powering smell of sulphur. You'd think you'd get used to it, but you never did.
Hyggnr stretched his claws briefly, and yawned, loudly and without flame before continuing. "Should you be impertinent enough to ask him, which you would not unless you aspired to snack status, he will swear to you that he summoned great powers and divined the future with clarity and purpose."
He glanced at Task. "Man thing, " he said, "what are dragons?"
Task looked at the great eye and said, "Dragons are magic." inclined his head slightly, and continued sweeping a floor that every day seemed endless.
"Yes we are. Yes we are!" Hyggnr laughed, shaking the tower briefly as his sides heaved. "Isn't it wonderful? And what is magic? Chaos! Chaos. I tell you the truth, although it doesn't leave this room." His long head and snout moved in conspiratorially, towards task in a manner that was not entirely comfortable. Random snacks and violence had long been the human condition under dragon rule.
Task swept casually as the great head leaned in, pointedly ignoring his master's breath. "Yes, lord. Of course." He said. Breath aside, Hyggnr's stories could be entertaining, upon reflection, later in the evening, after the existential nervousness had passed.
"He sneezed." Hyggnr whispered, laughing as he leaned back, delighted. "He sneezed performing a relatively simple translocation spell and somehow, in a way that no drake has ever been able to duplicate, slipped sideways and forwards into another world!"
"Can you guess what he saw there?" Hyggnr studied his well-trained and submissive man-thing and sighed. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't, the possibility having long since passed. I will tell you. You! Well, not YOU. But you lot. He saw an entire world run by and for man-thing. Humon kind I think they called themselves. Adorable."
Here Hyggnr paused, grabbing a sheep out of the snack bowl and masticating happily. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
"It was horrifying, of course. Millions of you running around, leading drab, purposeless lives. Hundreds of towers but no aeries. No Dragons! What purpose could there be, without dragon magic in their lives. One shudders at the thought."
And so he did, setting the floor all wobbly, as he dramatically sent shivers down his massive body.
"Curious and appalled, Falgyr mesmered himself to man-thing size and shape and walked among them seeking answers. The language was easy enough to translate, and he soon found himself at a place of knowledge. A lie-brary I think he called it. And can you guess what he found?"
Hygnnr paused dramatically, "Horror! Not only were there no dragons in this sad man-city. There were no dragons anywhere! I tell you, I nearly vomited at the mere thought!"
Task kept sweeping, but quickly thrust aside the image of Hyggnr vomiting. He had seen a great drake vomit before. Those poor people.
"And would you believe why?" Hyggnr held his foreclaw to his chest, clearly trying to maintain composure. "You lot! You grubby man-things hunted us to extinction. The nerve! The appalling mendacity! Dragons are MAGIC." Hyggnr cast his eye accusingly at his faithful servant.
Task very, very carefully attended his duties, a single bead of sweat sliding slowly down his brow. "Dragons are magic, yes my lord." Task said carefully, with as much obsequiousness and feigned outrage on his lord's behalf as he could cram into one sentence.
"Yes, well, I see you are as shocked as I was. I can hardly blame you. Even your tiny mind should grasp such an awful idea. That it should even be possible ..."
Hyggnr paused, looking contemplatively off into the distance. Beyond Brimstone, perhaps beyond time and space itself. Task didn't know. Dragons were magic and man-things were well-trained monkeys. Or so the dragons insisted.
"Of course," he said thoughtfully, "we were not always as we are now. We were always magic, of course, but for a very long while we were ... what's the word. Anti-social? Isolated? In any case, in those days you would never see so many aeries nestled so closely, and the high culture of our cities was still centuries away. We lived alone and we loved it. We preferred other dragons out of sight and out of mind and mated rarely and with extreme suspicion. In many ways it was an ideal time for us, but as Falgyr's accident showed, it also made us susceptible to slaughter by an assertive and rapidly expanding society of belligerent primates."
Hygnnr returned to the present, his great eye lolling back to Task again. "Falgyr, of course, was mortified. As any one of us might have been, and recalled himself to his point of origin. With translocation spells, you see, it is far easier to come back than to go."
"And from there, the rest is history." Hyggnr was relaxed again, enjoying the day. "At great personal risk to himself he approached each of us at our caves or aeries and convened a great council, convincing us of the danger, at times letting us see this future imperfect through his own eyes, until we banded together and gave great purpose to your enthusiastic but undirected striving. A lucky accident for you, don't you think?"
"Indeed, my lord." Feigned gratitude was a skill one learned early with masters who had such large teeth and larger appetites. Task was nearly finished now, emptying the last stray scale into the bin. "Is there anything more at the moment?
"I am hungry my Task. Have we more sheep?" Hyggnr was eyeing Task for some sort of reaction, and pleased to find none.
"I believe so, sire. Shall I fetch them." Having enough sheep (or cows or what-have-you), had become a vital skill to the man-thing that didn't relish being part of the menu. Hungry dragons didn't discriminate. And there were always more man-things.
"Do." Hyggnr settled in looking over the proud architecture of Brimstone, profoundly satisfied with the world as a whole, and himself in particular. How could he not be? Dragons were magic. Himself most of all.
Task retreated out and down, gathering sheep for his master's next meal. And as he did, he thought of something he had not thought of since he was a child: a world without dragons.
And in complete defiance of all good sense, he did not put it immediately from his mind.
March 28, 2016
Perelandra by C.S. Lewis
Perelandra by C.S. LewisMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I've been going back and reading some C.S. Lewis books because, I'll be honest, I still like C. S. Lewis as a philosopher and author. I'm not really too seduced by Christianity as he presents it (or, frankly, at all), but he still has some interesting things to say. Although you can basically ignore any of his commentary on women.
I read his SF trilogy as a borderline fundamentalist adventist teenager who was constantly looking for fantasy outlets away from the religion, and C.S. Lewis was one of the few I was "allowed" to read at the time. Re-reading it has been quite a trip.
I mean, the story is kind of a christian wish-fulfillment of the creation story if it had gone right. He uses different words for god, the devil and angels, but the metaphors are pretty transparent. God creates new life on Venus (written in the 1940s, when we didn't really know what lay under the clouds of Venus), and one man from a fallen Earth (thulcandra, which is kind of an awesome name for Earth) is brought to witness it and thwart the devil in corrupting this new world too.
It all starts as a pretty solid classic SF adventure. The early exploration of Venus (perelandra), the floating islands, the wildlife, etc. are all pretty good if you like exploration fiction. The christian allegory takes over the narrative more and more as the story goes on though, especially once he meets Perelandra's Eve.
The best part of the book I did not remember at all, which is how freaking scary the devil is in this story. From entrance to exit, every encounter with the devil would not be out of place in a modern horror novel. The gore and the mind games were all genuinely creepy to me this time around, even in my current state of highly developed cynicism. Almost worth it just for that. Lewis actually knows how craft a terrifying antagonist.
The last few pages turns into some christian ecstatic mess that I more or less skimmed because it felt like an alter call more than anything. But still, if you can put the heavy-handed christian allegory a little bit to the side, there's a still some solid classic SF meat here for the curious SF reader.
View all my reviews
February 3, 2016
The More Beautiful World your Heart Knows is Possible
The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible by Charles EisensteinMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book encapsulates many of the ideas I've been groping towards since leaving my religion and coming out of the closet. It starts with the premise that we all want a more beautiful world and have a concept of human flourishing that is different from the actuality of the world today. From there, he asks what kinds of changes in attitude and behaviors we would have to make in order to make that world possible.
It's a very optimistic book, one that supposes everyone deep down wants the same kind of happiness and that if we focused more on kindness and let go of the judgement we would find our way there. It's less of a specific guidepost to utopia though, and more the start of a discussion of what that would look like, which is really why I love the book. If we're going to make the more beautiful world our hearts know is possible, we have to start talking about what that actually looks like, no? If we stop ourselves from even discussing the possibility of better as unrealistic then we certainly forestall any hope of meaningful change. The first step to a better world? Stop telling ourselves it's impossible.
View all my reviews
December 3, 2015
Coldheart
Coldheart by Justin RobinsonMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Stay home and take your medicine. Unless the love of your life is in trouble, missing. Unless you need to see the world as it is. Unless there's not time for the comfort of a medicated haze. Unless you're sure it's the world and not you that's finally gone over the edge. Unless you're ready to face the heart of the storm. Unless you're ready to take the beating of your life to save your reason for living. By all means, stay home and take your medicine.
***
Coldheart introduces the shadow conflict of the League of Magi, a cabal of feuding inhumans possessing incalculable power, forever at war for reasons only they truly understand. Follow the journey of a young schizophrenic as he sinks deeper into the horror at the heart of the worst storm in a century. Catch a glimpse of truths that terrify and stagger the imagination.
In addition to the novella Coldheart, a collection of short stories strike like lightning, flashes of light that illuminate the outlines of the creatures lurking in the shadows and then are gone before the horrified mind can finish putting the pieces of those great beasts together. It is a mercy. In the world of the League of Magi, there's such a thing as seeing too much.
Ask Coldheart. He'll tell you all about it. But pick a time when he's not hungry.
View all my reviews
September 1, 2015
Last stop, eternal darkness
Tales of the Dying Earth by Jack VanceMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Safely ensconced in a time when sun still burned brightly, James cast his thoughts forward to the end of the world. There he watched the outlandish adventures of a world fallen and rebuilt so many times, its people have lost the will to do more than get by. Their only thought, how best to indulge themselves before the bloated red sun, hanging like a corpse over the Earth, finally flickers and flames out.
Witness the adventures of Turjan the cunning wizard, the innocence of T'sain and the unreasonable rage of T'sain. Gasp as Liane the Wayfarer gets himself in over his head in pursuit of love. Cheer at the high-flying adventures of Ulan Dhor. Marvel at Guyal of Svere as he travels a wasted and decadent land in search of of answers at the fabled Museum of Man.
But there was more to see! The many mis-adventures of the self-named Cugel the Clever as he makes not one but TWO perilous journeys across the earth back to wreak his revenge on Iucounu the Laughing Magician, who surely deserves it. Although, truth be told, Cugel himself is perhaps not an angel in all respects. Or perhaps any respects. Although, against all odds and all appearances to the contrary, sometimes quite clever. A fascinating fellow indeed!
Finally, his gaze settled on Rhialto the Marvelous, popingest popinjay of a band of powerful wizards, where watched the political maneuverings of surely the most decadent overclass of beings in the known history of the world. Caught in the midst of an eons long gender war, thrown back to the distant past to clear his good name and finally whisked to the edge of the known universe, indeed to the very edge of the Nothing Space that exists beyond it, in order to track the origin of the highly valued IOUN stones, Rhialto's machinations are truly marvelous to behold.
It was only with some reluctance, that James withdrew his mind from the unimaginably distant future, his scrying having reached the natural limits of his powers. And so he went on his way, busy with the bustle of the age, in a society still with the youthful exuberance only natural under the auspices of a young, yellow sun. Still, he thought often of aeons distant with all these deeds lost to dust, the character of man fallen and low, and that massive red sun, hanging languidly in the sky. Look, does it falter? Perhaps not just yet.
View all my reviews
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)