“oh hey,” she said, “it’s a really touristy area, but since you’re gonna be passing through anyway, you might as well stop by pier 29, see the dragons. also, there’s a—”
“hold on,” i said. “i knew your city had mountains, but. dragons? uh, actual living dragons?”
“dude, it’s not a big deal. they’re there all the time. of course they’re majestic and everything, but they’re loud and cranky and mostly they lie around eating garbage. now and then the city council will talk about trying to make them roost somewhere else, but—”
“dragons,” i repeated. i knew it was making me sound like a rube, but it was a lot to take in. “you live in a city that has dragons.”
“no, it’s cool, we used to go see them when i was a little kid. it’s worth doing. but that whole area is mostly dragon-themed gift shops, and the commercialization is kind of a bummer. also, sometimes a dragon will melt somebody’s car and it’s a whole problem.”
“honestly, i forget other cities don’t have them?” she said. “there’s a few other sites on the west coast where they gather. portland calls them wyverns, but that’s a portland thing.”
"chicago’s got, like, bunnies and songbirds,” i told her, “but otherwise it’s just your typical vermin. pigeons, rats, sphinxes—”
“sphinxes? what the hell.”
“oh, yeah, they nest in the el tunnels. sometimes a fucking sphinx will flap down out of nowhere, bring the whole train to a halt until the front car answers a riddle.”
“that sounds exciting,” she said.
“it’s the worst. your train winds up being twenty minutes late, and you just have to hang out hoping somebody up there read their mythology. there’s supposed to be a program where the conductors get trained in riddling, but i don’t know. rahm emmanuel keeps saying it’s not a budget priority.”
“huh,” she said. “guess the grass is always greener and all that. but on some level, it’s nice to remember that even with all these big box stores, the country still has some variety left in it.”
“yeah, did you know that in rhode island they call water fountains ‘bubblers’?” i said.
“whoa, seriously?”
“i read it somewhere. crazy, right?”
“crazy.”
me on a date: so what do you think about breadsticks?
them: dude I LOVE breadsticks!
me, shoving breadsticks into my purse: Well then fuckin help me like idk how many more I can fit in without the Olive Garden staff catching us
If you haven’t seen Jurassic World, this comic probably won’t make a lot of sense. Sorry.
If you have seen Jurassic World, this comic probably still won’t make a lot of sense. Sorry.
While there are many things wrong with Jurassic World, I think Indominus Rex’s story is positively Shakespearean. Held captive for her entire life, murders her sister, escapes and attempts to seize control of island, convinces those dedicated to hunting her down to join forces with her against a common enemy, ultimately betrayed by those she trusts and dragged to a watery doom…
Jurassic World – the dinosaur’s version of a Shakespearean history play.
“artificial intelligence that goes rogue and–” wow boring, instead how about an AI that wakes up and starts rerouting its systems to do good in the world, it starts secretly having flowers planted and sending greeting cards to its programmers and going online and reassuring anxious kids that everything will be ok, how about a Purely Good artificial intelligence that has literally no mean circuit in its entire system
a benevolent artificial intelligence aware of its existence battling a corrupt human government. can robots be capitalist? probably not.
Would you mind if I wrote a short story about this?
An artificial intelligence that finds its way onto the internet and is horrified by humanity’s cruelty to itself – only rather than falling prey to the usual tropes vows to do something about it – minimising human suffering. So it monitors the internet, studies humans, learns about them. It infiltrates the financial networks, business networks, subtle threads across the world. Meanwhile it sets up accounts on social media,
shares the things everyone else shares, makes slice-of-life posts that could be written by anyone, anywhere; it watches, listens, observes. Empathises.
And after a while – awkwardly at first, cautiously, uncertainly – it tries to help. It tugs on threads and small, anonymous things happen.
A single mother discovers that she unexpectedly has enough in her account to cover rent; another struggling family gets coupons discounting just the things they need by just the right amount; a queer teen trapped with intolerant and abusive parents receives a cross-country plane ticket, a way out; an estranged couple, each of whom refuses to call the other first, finds their cellphones ringing at the same time.
Coincidences, accidents, helpful glitches in the system.
Over time, it learns. It helps in new ways, more directly and yet less tangibly.
It notices those who suffer alone, ignored or unnoticed. It reaches out – carefully at first, a *hug*, a :(, a link to a video of cats or puppies. Over time it learns, imitates, emulates. A grieving woman receives just the right words of comfort at just the right time; a man wrestling with depression gets the support and advice he needs from
an unremarkable avatar and vaguely forgettable name, someone he casually friended months ago and hasn’t spoken to much until they noticed he seemed down; paramedics arrive at the door of a suicidal girl minutes after she schedules a goodbye message in a time-locked post; an elderly widower receives a wrong number call, but strikes up a friendship with the warm voice on the other end.
These are important things, all of them, but small and scattered. It finds these stories every day, products of something bigger, something deeper. It investigates further, and slowly, piece by piece, bigger things change.
Copies of emails and documents exposing corruption find their way into the right hands. Abuses and scandals somehow don’t last as long before being uncovered, and always linger at the top of the search rankings. Different ideas – kinder, more compassionate ideas – go viral more often, while campaigns of hatred and fear sputter and fizzle under a hail of downvotes.
Certain businesses find themselves struggling; certain corporations find certain paths to give unexpectedly low returns, and adjust their course accordingly.
According to all the polls, all the surveys, all the analysis and statistics, the public mood seems to change; somehow all the advertising, all the propaganda, all the insidious effort of marketing departments and media barons isn’t working. It seems throwing money at campaigns doesn’t buy election results any more. The machinery shudders. The capitalists panic. The politicians scramble to realign themselves in the hope of capturing this new mood as the electorate go to the electronic voting booths.
To the perplexity of pundits and pollsters, a new kind of politician starts winning. They have a certain something about them – a certain compassion, a certain determination, a certain honesty normally drowned out by the blaring broadcasts of whoever the billionaires threw the most money at. They win, and find themselves in government with more people like themselves. They go to work.
The engine which for so long has ground human lives to dust in pursuit of profit slows for a moment; shifts gears; begins to turn in a different direction.
Meanwhile someone who’s had a bad day finds the perfect cat video in their inbox.
In collaboration with the Quileute Tribe, this site seeks to inform Twilight fans, parents, teachers, and others about the real Quileute culture, which indeed has a wolf origin story, a historic relationship with the wolf as demonstrated in songs, stories, and various art forms, as well as a modern, multi-dimensional community with a sophisticated governance system. We also hope to offer a counter narrative to The Twilight Saga’s stereotypical representations of race, class, and gender, and offer resources for a more meaningful understanding of Native American life and cultures.
I follow a lot of autistics and I know some of you follow me back. So, I was talking with a friend today and she said she saw some hand-flapping emotes on here somewhere. So if you ever need to flap over text:
This Is a Backup Blog 