please translate to dumb oldlady for me
The reason that "4" is associated with the PHP vuln is one of the test/proof things resulted in an output where the private key was all zeros and a 4?
I expect that youve seen this but it reminded me of you:
https://www.smbc-comics.com/comic/the-caterpillar-and-the-ant
Related:
I wonder how much cultural pattern expectations fuck with you.
Like I gave approximately zero thought to what I wanted as I grew up.
I had only seen 3 paths modeled for me:
1) Married Evangelical Pastor/Missionary with kids
2) Married US Armed Services Member with kids
3) Married Generic job and house with kids
I wonder sometimes how my general life satisfaction would be if I had known more single adults or grown up into an environment that didn't assume homeownership and "job satisfaction".
Note: Transition is not guaranteed to solve all the "I wish I was" problems in your mind.
Often what you think you want when you start isn't what you want 5 years in.
Shocking I know.
my feed reads like you two are discussing philosophy:
I found enough of it to repost the first seven chapters here.
In the previous chapter we mentioned how time can be warped by baths.
It can also be warped by embarrassment over sincerity.
Lucinda didn't notice any pause between the first statement and the second.
Her advisers noticed no time difference but did think there was a tone difference.
But to Mor?
To Mor there were at least three eternities complete with creation and armageddon for each, between what she first said and what came after.
"...if you think I could tell you the answer to any of your questions. As it is said in the scriptures: A woman's life must be measured by her own choices and not by the directions of others.” (This statement wasn’t in any scripture that any mortal had ever read. It was however a quote from a barbarian princess to the woman she was seducing in the latest book that Mor had been reading. And since that book was written on a tome in heaven, (currently taped to the bottom of a table as backup to the copy she’d lost when she was thrown out of heaven), Mor figured it counted as scripture and could be applied here. The woman being seduced had been afraid of what others would think and the barbarian was trying to get her to be afraid of losing out on the opportunity to not think.)
Lucinda and the advisors took these words solemnly and left Mor out of the rest of the conversation.
Which Mor had wanted until she realized she didn't have anything to drink.
"Did you pack any...", Mor paused trying to remember what kind of caffeine was imbibed in this part of creation, ".... tea? in that mess of books? For drinking and helping one ponder the mysteries of the universe?"
"Tea?" Both Lucinda and the advisors a bit startled.
Lucinda recovered first.
"Is Tea important?"
Mor gaped. In her world caffeine was actually more important than a good book.
Her obvious surprise was noted by the ever observant Lucinda and even by the much less observant advisors.
"OH! Oh no! We will find some and ensure it gets added." The advisors rushed off.
Lucinda however was ever curious before obedient.
"Why is tea important?"
Mor's mouth, which as mentioned previously had no guards although her liver had begun to consider needing to hire some, opened and out wandered even more words.
"How can it not be? One, it wakes you up out of the stupor of lifes' mundanity. Two, it is one of the most blessed drinks, along with coffee and certain alchemical mixtures not created in this creation but which come wrapped in metal. Three, why do you think I'm here in the first place? The empress of heaven cares so much about tea that me causing her to miss it caused her to throw me out of heaven to escort you. Imagine if I had done that to her coffee? I'd probably not exist. Tea, is obviously, super important and should be in every wagon."
It was about this point that Mor's ears and brain and well the rest of her read the frantic letter from her liver regarding what her heart had been ranting about and the need to at least temporarily shut her mouth.
She spun on one heel, and stomped off into the sky.
And Lucinda watched her go with a frown. A curious pondering frown.
It would be many hours before Mor returned and they set on their way. But when they did leave to finally start their trip, there was tea in the wagons. And a pondering contemplation on Lucinda's face.
Less the reader think that this had a long term effect on Mor.... as soon as Mor cleared the tree-line she saw a super interesting bird and forgot why she had stormed off. It took her hours to remember that she was down here on a mission and should probably get to that mission.
Some time later, baths being timeless as they are. Whether you are in them, and the time vanishes into the awesome feeling of steam and soap... or out of them and waiting on someone and the time stretches out beyond the far distance and beyond the middle distance into the really-impatient distance.
Mor left the cooling water, which thankfully had been replaced many times by new and fresh water and new and fresh soap, and sung clothes from sunlight and buckles from the moon, and a sword from her lack of wit.
She stared at an uncomfortable servant but his gaze wasn't vacant enough to see her reflection. So she wandered around until she found a tired mother and used her gaze which was quite empty and clear as a mirror.
Once she adjusted her hair she whispered something to the mother and handed her a small bag of coin and the mother's vague was a lot less vacant.
Anyhow, now that Mor was properly refreshed and dressed and dapper she hummed up boots from the hopes of frogs and went to find the bride she was to escort.
Lucinda was at that moment inspecting the already loaded wagons for the sixty seventh time. She'd loaded them with scriptures and books, not with the vapid adornments her many many advisors suggested.
Mor had planned, (rapidly considered as she approached in a fit of whimsy, (which was about as close as she ever got to planning)), on just sitting and watching Lucinda deal with her advisors while drinking in the morning dew.
But Lucinda, who could, sometimes, be quite observant saw Mor and used her as an escape route from the unending negotiations on proper etiquette. Which was a shockingly apt use of Mor as she had never once been introduced to proper etiquette despite many people attempting to arrange a date between her and it.
"Ah, my heavenly escort, you surely know the preferences of heaven. What is more prized there? Scripture? Or perfumes? Which would you take? Books or dresses? Please advise us on the right course for loading the wagons Oh Benevolent One."
Mor blinked. Then blinked again. Then tilted her head birdlike and blinked perhaps a fifth time.
Lucinda hadn't said that with even a hummingbird's tiny whiff of sarcasm. Hummingbirds can occasionally be sarcastic, and when they are its hard to tell. They are quite fierce quite direct creatures though usually. So a whiff of a hummingbird's sarcasm is a quite tiny unit indeed.
But equally disconcerting, Lucinda had asked two very opposite questions.
What would heaven prefer.... and what would Mor prefer.....
Considering the opposing natures of those questions might have been a good exercise for Mor. A means of investigating her own motives and personality and perhaps meditating on what drove her as a being and why she existed.
But being who she was, she instead focused on her amazement that someone could, without sarcasm, without irony, call her, or really anyone, "Oh Benevolent One". She tried to consider how she'd manage the feat. This truly was a miracle of sorts.
A being this sincere....
"You are amazing."
The words made it out of her mouth with little effort. There were of course no guards on her mouth like most beings have to prevent them saying something foolish or embarrassing. She'd never bothered to hire any.
And until that moment. Mor didn't think she'd ever felt embarrassed. But she was. Because she had just committed the ultimate sin.
She had been sincere... in public.
Lucinda didn't pick up on it, she said things like that all the time and so someone else being sincere didn't even ping her radar.
The advisors didn't pick up on it, although they thought it odd.
But the rest of creation present to witness it? Every plant froze. Every insect froze. Cats hid under their paws. Dogs, which don't have any sense of social anything, just pranced and wagged their tails, excited but unsure why.
And far far away, at a coffee shop with his boyfriend, a older man in a overly floral shirt and white hair smiled into his coffee.
Lucinda wasn’t sure how to react to her disappointment. She’d expected a heavenly official in gold and finery and Mor was anything but that. Her mind tried to tell her that this was clearly not her escort but there was no doubt in her soul. She could hear the whispers of the trees confirming it, and generally gossiping while sharing pollen. Trees are quite lewd and perverse.
She settled for straightening up and calling for her disciples and servants to come attend to her escort.
“Most Gracious Lady of Heaven, we welcome you into this-”
“I guess you are the task I’ve been assigned?”
“Yes Beneficent Holy one, my name is Lu---”
“Do you have any chicken around? I would kill for some chicken. Or a donkey if chicken isn’t available.”
Lucinda wondered if this was a test, but if it was it was the most basic easy test. Everyone knew that consuming other living creatures was anathema to heaven. It didn’t make sense that her escort would. Her brain screeched to a stop like a water-buffalo hitting an elephant square between its rear cheeks. Was…. Did…
It took a while for her brain to process the paperwork her eyes were sending it. First her brain rejected it as a mistake. Then as an illusion. Then as some cruel joke.
On Mor’s hip hung the corpses of three flamingos and she was picking her teeth with the bones of a fourth.
“Oh. I see you’ve figured out that I’m not exactly in Heaven’s good graces.”
Lucinda didn’t have a response to this at all. She just stared in shock and anger. Yes, anger. Negative emotions aren’t exactly approved of in heaven but anger at the sins of the world was acceptable in the right circumstances.
“Yeah I’m also not pleased. Your place here is a very … well, you can see.” Mor gestured at her whole body, still covered in the swamp.
By this point the disciples and servants had arrived with towels, blankets, a large tub of hot water, scented soaps and scrubbing flowers. But they stood stunned just like the Saint they followed.
“Look, give me a bath, and some food, and I’ll stop offending your precious feelings. Then we can start getting this chore over with.”
To the embarrassment and horror of everyone present, Mor began undressing right there, dropping the muck clothes onto the muddy road, then she wandered over to the tub.
“Unless you want to carry me too you’ll want to put that down.”
The tub was placed hurriedly on the ground.
Mor climbed in and sunk into the tub until only her eyes and the top of her head remained outside of the water.
Lucinda stared at those bright shining blue eyes glowing over the dark water and slowly recited the thousand prayers for patience of Saint Andrew the Educator of Wealthy Scions. Then she recited the seven hundred hopes of Saint Miriam the Builder of Schedules.
“Your excellency, I will be grateful for your kindness in assisting me on this blessed task. I will be understanding of the great stresses you must have suffered falling from such an wonderful height down to our lowly status. May I know the many names by which you are known.”
A series of bubbles rose up in the water and upon popping let out horrible smells. They also let out a single phrase. “You can call me Mor”.
Lucinda bowed, glad at least that one courtesy had not been forgotten.
“Mor, I am Saint Lucinda Marisol Ibarra of the lowest circles.”
Another series of bubbles with stench and sound.
“Yeah, I will call you Lucymar.”
Lucinda straightened and turned and walked away in the exactly beauty and patience of someone who is this close to giving up on heaven and just taking a forked spatula and spelling out their frustrations on someone else's hide.
Mor giggled into the water and closed her eyes, saying to no one and everyone:
“She’s almost fun.”
At this point, having read the section before this moment, one might wonder, this seems rather suspicious. Why this girl, and why was this done months before the party where in Mor was thrown out of heaven and on this glorified fetch quest?
So, reader, let us travel back a few breaths in time to a conversation being had on a balcony, in a hidden room, in a lost wing, of a forgotten neighborhood of Heaven. A conversation between The Empress of Heaven, most benevolent wife of the Sun Emperor, shining jewel of the stars (EOHMBWOTSESJOTS) and the Grand Imperial Chancellor of the Receipts(TGICOTR). For this conversation and the ease on the reader’s eyes this text will use the official acronyms for both parties to shorten the number of words that must be read.
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “Benevolent Chancelor”
TGICOTR: “Oh EOHMBWOTSESJOTS, have mercy on me, a lowly chancellor who is not worthy of your voice.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “Mercy granted. Now that is out of the way, what were you able to find for me.”
TGICOTR: “There isn’t any conditions upon her invitation here. She isn’t a prisoner, and she has no record of earning residence here. She’s been a guest for at least two reincarnations of your husband. I can’t even find records of her entrance into heaven.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “Nothing? Can we do nothing? She is the most annoying person in the library. She giggles when she reads her books and the entire library can hear it. And she isn’t reading books that wouldn’t cause her to giggle.”
TGICOTR: “I mean you can always throw a guest out.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “If I do it without cause my husband will replace me with his boyfriend. It isn’t that he cares for her. He doesn’t even know her. He’s just looking for a reason.”
TGICOTR: “So generate a reason. I’ve never seen her eat anything here. She is impossibly rude, and she slurps her tea like a dog. Invite her to an occasion as an “award” and when she fails all acceptable decorum you can use that as your justification for removing her.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “I’ll have to leave her with a route to redemption though. You know how he is.”
TGICOTR: “Actually I think I can accommodate you there. I have a boorish cousin, who I hate a lot, and who offended me with his smell recently. I can insult him AND provide Mor with a ridiculous redemption option that will never succeed. I will draw from the records a name of a worthless peasant from the edges of the lands that can see Heaven. I will announce his engagement to someone so worthless that it will shame him for all time, AND you can make retrieving his bride and molding her into an acceptable bride for heaven the redemption task. Mor can’t even earn her own way into heaven, there is no way she’ll be able to train another to do so.”
For a long time these two esteemed members of the heavenly court sat drinking tea and pondering how wise, beautiful, and amazing their plan and their personages were. Then with mutual loathing and utmost curtesy, they stood bowed and left the room by different doors.
A short time later TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS called all of her maids and all of her guards and all of her eggs on a wall. She tasked them with coming up with the fanciest, most cultivated, most heavenworthy challenge that she can put before all of the guests of heaven in order to help them “earn” a spot as her staff.
A nearly equally short time later TGICOTR, berated a terrified records keeper into delving into the most forgotten stacks of the records for a suitable bride. The records keeper, terrified of making a mistake and offending heaven, did make a mistake. He thought that TGICOTR wanted someone actually suitable. So digging long enough he found a sparkling soul in the muck that is the outer realms, and gave that name to TGICOTR.
And so it was announced that the cousin of TGICOTR would be married to someone from the farthest reaches of the realm and that there would be a splendid party for all of the guests of heaven. And now you the reader know how we got to the point where the holy demure bride said every so gracelessly, “Fuck”.
Lucinda Marisol wasn’t sure if she should be happy, or nervous, or angry. She didn’t have a lot of feelings about the matter at all. A message in the form of a song delivered by a bear had arrived announcing to her relatives great and stunned joy that she was engaged.
They asked her what she knew of the matter and she sincerely told them she hadn’t known anything at all. Which of course only convinced them further that she did know and was being extremely discrete because the details were salacious.
Her entire family upended their lives to prepare her for the trip. The village did, everyone did. No one from this far down had ever even seen an official of heaven much less been engaged to one. The bear had turned into a helpful 1737 page document on the necessary steps to manage the journey and describing the route to be taken.
Lucinda had been required to sign so many steps marking them complete, that she thought she might be beginning to hate her name. That stage had lasted about two weeks.
Since then there had been hundreds of fittings of new dresses, new shoes, new jewelry. She’d even gotten a new sword. During fittings/meals and throughout the entire day local monks would grill her on facts and knowledge and who is who in the ranks of heaven.
No one had gotten around to telling her the name of her new groom. The bear had said his name was too holy to be spoken this far from the court. She supposed that fit with the fact that she knew nothing else about him either. She took to telling herself in her mind that she was marrying the Nothing Lord Nothing of Nothing and Nowhere out of a fit of childish rebellion against this.
But outside of that one defiance she truly poured herself into fitting this new mold. She learned every scrap the monks could provide. She pieced together a trader’s grasp of heaven’s vocabulary. She learned the 23 poses of the 29 angels. She taught herself to walk like mist floating below a dragon. She only drank dew drops and only ate sunbeams, this last bit helped a little with the dress fittings.
Her hair was braided like the Duchess of the Cranes of Wind. Her jewelry took stylings from the stars of the Dragonfly and the Puma. Every single detail of her outfit, dress, habits, speech, and body language was carefully cultivated to ensure she would be pleasing to any heavenly noble who might be engaged to her.
Her calligraphy was perfection itself. Her manner; that of a demure dove.
She carefully studied the impeccable art of fencing without breaking a sweat or gasping unduly.
Lucinda had checked and double checked every step of the document she’d been given. Not an idle minute was wasted. She was a dutiful daughter and a representative of her village and would make sure she didn’t bring shame to their name by accepting this high honor that was so far above them it wasn’t believable that it had actually happened.
She consulted the stars to determine the arrival of the guide sent by heaven. She spent her evenings in prayer at every shrine in her village and the surrounding villages. She began keeping a detailed account of her preparations to better prepare the next girl that such an auspiciously inconvenient blessing might happen to.
The months stretched into a year and then into a second year.
She had begun training local young people in the many things she’d learned. They even set up a small but functional monastery for her to use during her training of others.
Students came from miles around, eager to learn how they might better improve not only their lives but their family’s fortunes.
By the time her escort arrived, Lucinda had almost turned herself into someone that someone could believe would have gotten a surprise engagement from Heaven’s Court.
She was standing, on the steps of her monastery, looking out into the swamp at the hour of her guide’s arrival. Her face was as radiant as the moon is on snow. She was calm as a still water pond wreathed in gold and marble. She did not appear overly eager nor bored and unhappy.
She was, frankly, as close to perfect as any being not of Heaven proper could be.
Her eyes fell upon the guide that came out of the swamp, covered in mud and muck, trudging a trudge of a servant mucking out their seventh stable. Even in the twilight, even with the muck, the seal of Heaven burning brightly on the guide’s brow.
And in that moment, Lucinda, for the first time in her life said:
“Fuck.”
The fall quickly became uneventful. Mor was falling, unable to move/adjust/fly anything.
You see, in that time, the windows of heaven were quite magical. They could open to any view desired, and to any height. Almost like the gateways. Except unlike the gateways they only allowed one way travel…. Out.
Mor had seen people thrown out before. Some were simply tossed onto the mountainside nearest heaven. Others into the depths of hell. When the window opened to hell, it was unmistakable, you knew it. So Mor could, she reasoned, safely ignore the possibility that she’d been thrown into hell or the abyss.1
A sudden thought hit her, she didn’t know how long she’d been falling, but she did suddenly have a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long long long long long time. Like a … cramp? Or no, like a headache but in your gut…. It wasn’t gas…. What…
Her eyes opened wide. She was hungry. Oh.
In Heaven, of course, you know, you are never hungry. There is plenty to eat but only for pleasure, never for need. Mor hadn’t eaten their food for the same reason that one often doesn’t. Because it isn’t polite to take a bite and then spit it onto the floor while making gagging sounds and rolling on the floor acting like you are poisoned by their horrible food that it seems impossible one would enjoy.
Besides, it wasn't part of the agreement.
There was a long moment, about as long as the time it takes a bear to nap through a winter. Mor came to the realization that she also hadn’t thought of the agreement in a long time. She almost couldn’t remember it, but she knew nothing had been said that required her to eat food. There was a lot more to it but at it’s core she remembered being invited, to a party, and vowing she’d only leave when they kicked her out.
“Huh.”
This of course was Mor speaking. She was the only one there.
She started keenly watching the area she was falling past. Looking for something that might be considered food.
There was a flash of scales and she shot her hand out like someone doing that really cool thing where you sit by a river until SPLASH you catch a fish.
When she opened her eyes, yes she had closed them in anticipation and excitement, she was holding a medium sized coatl. This was not a fish.
She thought about throwing it back but then the coatl hissed at her. So she conjured a silver flame and roasted the coatl over the silver flame gently pondering being thrown, throne?, Thrane? She wasn’t sure how to spell, only how to read. And of course how to eat overly burnt coatl.
It was crispy but satisfying and the effects of Heaven’s lack of hunger were still lingering.
She watched a sunset.
She watched a moonset.
She watched the sun and moon put on a play about bored scholars falling endlessly down.
Okay maybe that last one wasn’t true.
She tried to stand up in order to practice her sword play but there was nothing to stand on.
She tried to create something to stand on but kept losing focus too easily.
So she took a nap. A good long happy nap. The kind of nap you take when you very much aren’t incredibly angry that you weren’t allowed to finish your book. Or angry that you were invited to an event, then made to go, then thrown out for not being enough… something.
After the time it takes for a mountain to become a slightly raised hill, she fell asleep. And in that moment, the exact moment when consciousness had finally given up and was opening the door to leave, she hit the muddy swamp water with a tremendous splash.
For the record, unlike some swamps, this one was absolutely stagnant. And was filled with fish poop. And insect poop. And that slimy green gunk you find on lake shores. And at least two murdered farmers. And an escaped ox. And some soggy tax paperwork.
It was unpleasant.
Mor was unpleased.
And now she smelled like stagnant, fish poop, insect poop, green gunk, wet ox,and dead bodies.
So she was like the swamp after all.
And everyone knows that like calls to like. Afterall, aren’t people most often in love with themselves, the being they are most like?
Mor wasn’t sure about this question. She was pretty sure most people were not in love with themselves and in fact, had a deep self loathing that it took years of cultivation to remove. This may have only been her, she wasn’t sure.
With a big sigh, and holding her hand high aimed at heaven in a very very very obscene gesture, Mor got up, picked up some sticks and threw them into the air.
Watching how they landed on the water, she muttered. “Figures. Guess I might as well start walking.” And proceeded to do exactly that.
The Empress of Heaven, most benevolent wife of the Sun Emperor, shining jewel of the stars, had been holding a tea party. She had, out of an abundance of being nosy, invited all of Heaven’s staff and servants and minor guests, so that she and her attendants could judge them on their fitness for promotion to staff of the inner court.
There was a fifteen course meal followed by dancing and preceded by a 37 step tea ceremony. She announced this event with a complete list of all sub events and of all grading criteria a few decades in advance to give everyone a chance to “do their best and earn heaven’s rest”.
It was very very intricate.
The problem as Mor saw it, wasn’t in the planning, or in the detail. Although there could have been maybe a little better investigation of the invite list. The problem was that the event was happening at all.
Mor was forced to attend, being a guest of heaven, for well, a long time now. And in attending was forced to sit at the table and practice manners. This was not something Mor had any intention of doing but she had learned it was easier to passively go along than to directly resist and thus took the path of least resistance. Until the Subchancellor of the Department of the color of flowers started sneezing of course.
She’d been waiting nearly an hour for the morning glory petal she slipped into his sandwich to take effect. She’d almost given up, but then he sneezed, and kept sneezing and almost collapsed backwards out of his chair. It was quite scandalous, and drew enough attention for Mor to slip down under the table out of sight and start reading her book.
She’d made it through the bit where the barbarian is ravishing a village. And past the bit where the barbarian climbed an unclimbable wall. She had gotten to the bit where she thought “this is getting good” and was pretty sure someone was going to be kissed quite salaciously soon… when someone stepped on her ankle.
The pain and annoyance brought her out of the book and she was about to snarl at whoever was so stupid; when she heard the tinkle of china hitting a marble floor, and the liquidy sound of liquid splashing all over the floor. The tea… might have been heavenly once. But even heavenly tea turns into floor tea when it is dropped on the floor. And no one wants floor tea.
In her excitement it seems that she had slowly inched her way from the safe center of the table to the unsafe edge, and her foot, kicking happily at future thoughts of salacious kissing had gone past the unsafe edge into the very very unsafe out-from-under portion of the table. There, it had found a dutiful chancellor of tea doing his duty and very very focused in his work as he carefully walked the tea over to the table of the Empress without so much as causing a ripple in its surface….until of course, the bit with the foot and the tinkling broken china.
Mor didn’t have much memory of the next bit. There was a hushed shocked sound that accompanies events that will be discussed for several decades. She’s pretty sure the chancellor of tea died a 2nd time on the spot out of shame and his soul fled from heaven never to be heard from again. Someone flipped the table off of her and hauled her to her feet, they didn’t even let her mark her spot in her book.
She was pulled in front of the Empress of Heaven, most benevolent wife of the Sun Emperor, shining jewel of the stars and pushed to her knees.
The Empress of Heaven, most benevolent wife of the Sun Emperor, shining jewel of the stars’s voice was too precious to be heard by mere guests of heaven and so she whispered into her chief handmaiden’s ear, who then whispered into the sub-chief handmaiden’s ear, who then whispered….. It took eight people okay. Eight. Eventually they got to someone who was deemed low enough to speak to a mere guest of heaven.
“You, lowly and degenerate worm, foolish fool of scholars, who has no grace, and no maiden. You have defaced the teapot of the Empress of Heaven, most benevolent wife of the Sun Emperor, shining jewel of the stars. You have embarrassed all of creation. You are not worthy of standing in these halls any longer. You will be cast out!”
A shocked murmur rushed through the surrounding… witnesses? She wasn’t sure what to call them. People get offended if you simply say guests. Whatever they were, they were certainly murmuring.
“But the Empress of Heaven, most benevolent wife of the Sun Emperor, shining jewel of the stars is merciful and just and will leave a path to repentance. Collect from the bottom of the sky a bride. She has been gifted with the grace of heaven and will need to travel here. Provide her protection and you will be granted as a reward two more tasks that you may regain your status as the least of all immortals.”
At this announcement the guards pulled her to her feet, hauled her across the floor to the nearest window and threw her out.
Remember your value is not in what you do.
its in how many blue haired mech pilots want to do your hair and help you dress right.
local ants:
i saw them and thought of you.
the puppy didnt want to hold still so my phone could get a better shot.
Computers:
MS
MacOS
Linux
Phones:
Android
whatever you call the iphone OS
Today I learned that my sibling thinks tablet means: uses Android or Iphone OS.
and anything tablet shaped that uses MS/MacOS/Linux is a laptop.
My sibling is so so so so wrong.
Before I tell you what the Between is like I should probably tell you how I got tangled up in this. How a middle aged woman working a temp job found herself jogging across the upper levels of the city trying to escape from corporate security.
Except I really want to describe this wonderful ship I live on.
I know you want to know more about who I am and where I’m from but have you seen this fucking ship?
She's a three masted sailing ship. Except the masts run up and down not just up. And the masts are solar sails. And at the top of the center mast. Or bottom... are two stars.
The bottom star is a dark hungry star. Always pulling you towards it. A black point that claws at light and matter and is too small and too big and never full.
The top star is a burning angry sun of green fire. It blazes just like the sun, you can’t look at it, you always feel it. Even when it is hidden from you it radiates heat. Heat that passes through you only to be pulled into the dark star below.
The stern is a diamond shaped array of blue fire from the engines. Diamond shaped like four sides of a square on one corner that has been smushed just right. The engines are scattered inside of that diamond. In no particular order that I can describe. Just tightly packed.
The bow is in the shape of a snarling dragon with burning red fire in its throat. And the same green sun glow in its eyes. On either shoulder sits an open tube, for torpedoes I’m told, I think of this face as the ship's awake face.
Along the flanks of the ship two rows of annihilator plasma pulse cannons. They make a szzzorrrrrrrrr-foomp sound when fired. You don’t see the pulse fly out really. Just a faint hint of something moving and then a cloud of impact on the target. When they aren’t being used snipers will use the holes in the deck as nests where they can sit and target things below the ship.
The hull and the masts are stylized wood but are a dark black metal that drinks light almost as thirstily as the lower star. The masts do not actually touch the deck or the hull, they instead float about 24 hands above or below. A ring of gold runes encircles the ship going from the bottom of the mast above to the bottom of the mast below. This ring isn’t solid or anything and I think may have simply been added by an engineer to help make the effect of the floating masts feel a little less surreal.
A stark black flag with a bleach white skull flies from the rear mast. A grinning testimony to the crew's trade of choice.
That is the Between most people see.
But she has another side. The masts above fold inwards and sink towards the right side of the ship, their sails turning into ship plates and the bottom of the masts slotting neatly in between the cannon ports. At the same time the lower masts fold in and rise to the left side of the ship, also folding into the cannon ports on that side. The prow closes her mouth and eyes and looks for all the world like a sleeping lizard head. When all the movement is finished the ship no longer looks like a frigate but instead like a flying boomerang with a lizard head where the outer corner is and three simple blue engine ports where the inner corner is. A pretty but plain merchantship carrying supplies and messages.
I think there is more to her disguise than just the shape. A spell of unassuming. Comm codes that have a completely unsuspicious history of ports and legal identities for all of the crew.
The Captain doesn’t like flair except when she does. Everything about the ship is bland and boring… unless the stars are out…and when they are out the world is bathed in green and black.
Regardless of the ship’s configuration, the Between's Captain is a striking woman. Midnight fur and green flecked eyes, one ear and one hand a dark pumpkin orange. Knee high leather boots and green canvas trousers that shape powerful legs. Her blouse is a white silk with ruffled trim and no sleeves. Silver rings adorn her paws and tail.
The silver is dimmer when the ship is dimmed. And her eyes don’t glow with green fire when the ship’s eyes are closed. But traders who meet with her and port officials and naval captains all can feel the hidden edge. She isn’t inflexible but there is a sense that once blades come out… she is a different person.
And indeed she is. Her eyes flare green and glow. A sword appears at her side forming out of a green and black cloud of somewhere else, a jade turquoise cutlass with three large circles in the blade that clings to her belt via a graviton clip when she isn’t wielding it.
When drawn the circles flare with the light of the suns. Either black like the lower sun or burning green like the upper sun. Either configuration is a terrifying sight.
But she is always a terrifying and wonderful sight, always, as is expected of Her Ladyship, Blue Memories, Captain of the frigate Between.
My wife is always telling me I should work out more. Whether running or weight lifting or something. “You need to be fit when you are older. I want you to carry things for me.” I should have listened.
I wish I could tell you that was what I was thinking, that I should have listened, that I should have worked out. But no. I was thinking pant, gasp, wheeze, pain, fear. I flopped around the corner, my feet slapping the plastic street and sweat pouring down my neck.
On my right, Steve or Sam, I think his name is Sam, was pressing against the corner of the building snarling back the way we came. He had a bald head, a beard and a bit of a paunch. Overall though he had one of those bodies that the girls in my bookclub spend a lot of time watching. Shoulders as broad as a table. Bare triceps and biceps glistening with sweat and taunt with effort and muscle held a massive gun at waste level. As Sam roared the gun sprayed shards of sharp ice down the street. He held it level with impressive stamina as I tried desperately to catch my breathe.
I think Elizabeth would have left Mr. Darcy for him. What he lacked in generational wealth he had invested in genetic bounty. He winked at me when he caught me looking. The punk, I'm not straight or bi, but he could make a woman wonder about things.
"Gotta keep moving mom." Said the not much younger than me woman who absolutely was not my daughter.
Her name I believe was Julie? Was a tall woman with a light brown snout and gorgeous auburn and white mane. Wearing a maintenance outfit and waggling her fingers at floating keyboard/screens. She had a floating shield drone providing cover for me and her and two others were floating higher and spitting lasers at our pursuers.
"You got this mom."
"Keep up mom."
"Turn here mom."
In another life she was a kindergarten teacher, or tour guide, or sheep dog. Persistent, polite, and fucking annoying. She had decided it was her job to motivate me in the right direction. Barking at my heels until I turned or sped up or whatever.
I started my floppy, gasping attempt at running once more. It was just as bad as I remember.
Ahead of us the last member of the team practically skipped down the alley way. A short elfin woman with a peppy singsongy gait. If I looked closely, which I didn't because I was fucking dying of exertion, I would notice that she wasn't care free but focused like a cat, not a single wasted motion. But, in my state at the time? She looked like a teen prancing through the mall dancing to music. Only I remembered the daisy tattoo on her arm. Whatever she was, she wasn’t a kid. Had she ever been?
Her staff lashed out at two guards coming around the corner and they fell twitching and covered in small lighting arcs that zipped this way and that. I hoped they were simply stunned. I tried not to trip on them. It was hard.
I’m not short. For a ratling I’m basically fucking too tall. An amazon woman who doesn’t fit in with a tail too fluffy at the end. I’m glad I wore the comfy shoes. Because I don’t think I’d have made it this far in heels.
As not-a-kid turned another corner she called back:
"Here we are darlings we made it."
I turned the corner with the speed of a fat beagle chasing bacon and the grace of said beagle trying to ice skate. My hair clung to my face and to my eyes and I struggled to get a clear view. Wiping hair and spittle off my face I could see finally. And I could see so very, very far. Both in distance and in altitude.
We were on the side of the tower. At least a hundred floors up. The city spread out before us.
Trapped.
I made a sound of terrified, frustrated, angry bewilderment. I think it sounded like I was throwing up. Maybe I was.
The overly cheerful bastard of an engineer/gallery guide looked over the edge and smiled.
"Right on time. Alrighty girls and sidekicks. Time for us to leave.”
Behind us a wall of security officers with shields appeared.
Not a teen pirouetted, pausing on the ledge on the tip of the toes of one foot. As her off balance stance pulled her over the edge she saluted the guards with the parchment we’d taken. Then she vanished.
Sam turned at her salute and seeing the guards let loose another spray of ice shards to keep them behind the shields.
"Time to go." He jumped off the ledge also.
I started to inch up to the ledge to look over when I heard an overly cheerful secretary voice behind me:
"Time to go mom."
And then the bastard bitch pushed me off the ledge and I fell screaming into the air....
... and onto the Between.
Holy shit the total responses to this were beyond my expectations:
This is my compiled list.
