The number of mixed messages is maddening. Whether we’re in a bona fide emergency or not. A constitutional crisis or governmental concerns in the context of a frantic news cycle. Steps toward a new type of government or a mechanism that largely preserves the status quo. After all, not a hell of a lot seems…
Fiction: Scrape to soothe the rasp, hiss to hide the hum
Emily had been dreaming again. No tears on her pillow this time but the sound of rocket engines still rushed in her ears for a few fleeting moments. Slowly she came into her body, felt it materialize. Slowly the concrete around her became, well, concrete again. The camping mattress underneath felt like it had become…
The Explosive Trajectory of Technology
Jon Jeckell tweeted a Popular Mechanics piece showing what appeared to be a Ukrainian prototype shoulder-fired missile with a guidance system powered by the Raspberry Pi microcomputer. The inclusion of the Pi makes it a seeming next-step from the much shared image of Syrian rebels in Jobar in 2013 using an iPad to angle mortar…
Re-balancing
University of Pennsylvania information science professor Matt Blaze happened upon an SUV near the Philadelphia Convention Center sporting a license plate radio and other surveillance gear not-so-cleverly disguised as a Google Street Car (the kind that roam around and produce Google Maps and the accompanying Street-level scenery). More than a few outfits picked up the…
Fucking with the Data Gods
First of December and my head’s still stuck in early AD, maybe even late BC. Still thinking about one of the images from my last post — namely, pre-Christian Britons depositing weapons and riches into lakes to honor and impress the gods. It hit me after writing about that in one context (projecting Fiction Conditions) that it…
Competing Magics and Fiction Conditions
Leaving my mid-Manhattan hotel to write at the Starbucks across the street: almost a smart idea. Almost because: it is blasting Christmas music on November 29th. An impossibly young-sounding baby wails from the lower level trying to make its discomfort heard over the louder wail of festive saxophones. I hear you, kid. I hear you….