page.layout: post page.title: Awashed Ashore page.date: 2021-06-19 00:00:00 +0000 page.url ⛓️: /2021/06/19/1-awashed-ashore/ page.content_id: 1 page.author: Tyler page.type: Autofiction page.ascii: @ page.x: 2 page.y: 29 page.class: green page.attributes: hydrogen, argon, helium, oxygen
Awashed ashore this island of stability, I blinked in the iridium light. Our waterlogged map slowly curling in the dry heat, old scribblings of trigonometry fading.
“It is done with a filter ping,” Trent said, and summoned thunder in that cloudless sky.
Ryan was tracking at a different frame-rate than I, but that was precisely why we are a team. New paradigms require new tactics. And here, at the University of Maps, new paradigms abound. How many more still remained unwritten?
Indeed, time slippage is a phenomenon frequently encountered by synthesists, both within the machine and without.
There were still many weeks ahead, but already it felt as though we had been on this journey for a millennium. And perhaps we had. Indeed, time slippage is a phenomenon frequently encountered by synthesists, both within the machine and without.
“I am not a tinkerer,” I said, “I need an objective. These tools are means to an ends. While I enjoy the medium and materials, ultimately I aspire to create from a place of authenticity, emotion, and a sensation of just barely having my instrument under control.”
My words were recorded to the cloud, for my future self to analyze.
“Hello, future Tyler,” I said.
He did not respond.