tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-370727842011-04-21T17:08:08.523-07:00A short novella that chronicles the inner city journey of Dorse, hydroponic farmer extraordinaire. Talking paintings, drug addled refugees, sadistic cops, and more!Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comBlogger111100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-36144369565976684362006-12-29T06:21:00.000-08:002006-12-29T06:22:33.189-08:00

“I'm gonna miss this place, you know?” Telson said as we sped-walked to the warehouse. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--> “Huh?” I asked in reply, slightly out of breath. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--> “The city. I think I'm going to kind of miss it.” <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--> “Why?” <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-48681685237641336512006-12-07T09:29:00.000-08:002006-12-07T09:35:05.784-08:00

kept the meme of the Fool's Path floating around in my head. Something about it managed to cling on to other ideas in the neuron soup. What was it that made us fools, as Shelly put it? I shook my head, drank my beer. Better to clear those vicious, unsightly thoughts from my cranium before it was too late. They might take over. Memes do that. They replicate within your brain, expand, begin to

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-26173917027227275222006-12-05T07:10:00.000-08:002006-12-05T07:12:41.948-08:00

Glass shattered just as I was about to turn the corner. I stopped in my tracks, arms over my head, muscles tensed, fight or flight response kicking in. First thought that went through my head? Fuck me, fuck me, I'm not leaving town tomorrow morning. Then I realized that the shattering wasn't anywhere near me, let alone on my neck, head, or elsewhere on my person. I quickly regained my composure

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-835824602864874892006-12-01T13:20:00.000-08:002006-12-01T13:21:43.125-08:00

When the place was populated, fully populated by awake, moving, living human beings, it wasn't nearly as creepy as you might expect an ex-concentration camp to be. Once you got past the entrance there were only a couple more installation pieces to surprise you. The annoying ones were in the bathrooms. They'd sit in waiting, pretend to be asleep, then surprise the living shit out of you. Then

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-41707150547595976392006-11-27T06:40:00.000-08:002006-11-27T06:44:34.994-08:00

“Carol, did you smoke all our shit?” Shelly asked from the doorway. Carol just giggled. I looked up from my typing. I liked Shelly most of all because she seemed the most normal in the enclave. No tattoos, no piercings other than her ears, no scars. Just perfect. The way her DNA meant her to be. She didn't smoke, she rarely took drugs, and she thought I was killing my brain and liver. I

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-43665043445019350942006-11-22T08:59:00.000-08:002006-11-22T09:05:46.679-08:00

“Now, a word from our sponsors, kiddies:“'Are you sick of the horrible oppression and forced world view of the propagators of alien memeplexes? Does your reality tunnel seem foreign to you? Do you just not fit in, even on the Freelands? Then come to Island TAZ, one and all, where liberty is free and freedom flows like water.“'Established only four years ago using a unique combination of

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-86740165576185385892006-11-20T06:26:00.000-08:002006-11-20T06:28:24.496-08:00

“You guys,” Carol drowsily said, “should stay one more night. You can pack up in the morning.” She and Telson were curled up on the bed together. I was still waiting for Shelly while I busily typed out the notes I'd accumulated over the last two years. They were simple things, ways to take out mites without having to resort to nanobot protection or pesticides, which could be both expensive and

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-75314945442903092392006-11-12T18:49:00.000-08:002006-11-12T18:53:35.039-08:00

“Doooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrssssssssssse!” It was Hillfen. He'd found me already. “Dorse, love, how have you been?” It asked as I stepped inside. Its voice dripped venom. The painting, hung on the right of the hallway, swirled into a hideously arranged spray yellow, blue, and red colors with a broken slash of a mouth painted through it. The eyes were multicolored and constantly shifting. Not

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-1163173634225995162006-11-10T07:46:00.000-08:002006-11-10T21:43:48.063-08:00

Carol's enclave was on the outskirts of the train depot in one of the old “reeducation camps” left over from the Rightots in 2010. It was a creepy enough place as it was, but they'd turned around and spruced it up with some bio-mechanical meets vaudeville décor. Really turned it into a horror house. Which might explain why they were so normal. They'd gone from injecting themselves with bizarre

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-1162866155693145592006-11-06T18:21:00.000-08:002006-11-10T21:43:47.823-08:00

Kenchi was still going when Telson and I came to. They must have had some pretty good shit over in the Freelands. “Bill Hicks is a national hero over here, and what do you guys have,” he railed, for it was he at the moment, “you've got Thomas Jefferson. What in the fuck did he do for you? Own slaves whiel he preached against, then knock one of them up, that's what!”By the time I rolled out of bed

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37072784.post-1162568652333235642006-11-03T07:41:00.000-08:002006-11-10T21:43:47.610-08:00

“Friends, colleagues, brothers-in-arms, listeners, fans, blah blah blahs, etc. It’s 3:30 in the morning. What are you doing still up and presumably paying attention to me? Unless my voice is coming at your through the walls from your asshat neighbor, blaring in the background while you’re balls deep in some tramp from the club, you’ve got some explaining to do.“And, if you’re that neighbor who’s

Craig Gnoreply@blogger.com