TheArdentMachinist

   The landscape approaches snow; it is a mask. The cold is nothing contrarian and, here, it finds its power undiminished. Try to warm your frozen garments and it becomes wet, penetrating - turning you over to a different monster, wearing a different mask but with the same visage below.    Across this barren wasteland, you will find nothing. Snow turns over snow turns over hills turns into valleys turns into chasms turns into darkness, all undefined and equally bleak. This, of course, is because you are a foreigner here. This land speaks its own language; its mother tongue is silence and its dialect is stillness. Take them into your heart a

(There is a man looking down upon all of existence.   When he speaks, he says that the devil is in the details.   Speak of the devil, and he shall surely appear.) What distinguishes life from un-life? When you think about it, this can become one of the most enduring infections in your mind.   What distinguishes man from stone? Let me rephrase that. What is the difference between a man and a homunculus in the guise of a man? Both can be made to have the exact same components, in the exact same arrangement, entirely identical. Yet they are not. With your machines, you can approach the image of life but you can never synthesize it. It canno

    "Good afternoon everyone, I trust that you're all in the right place. If you're not sure, look around you - look at the instruments on the desk. Do you recognize the model number on those field calculators? Does your hand know where to sit on the intensity knob of the chemical burners on your desks? If you don't, then you're either lost or making a horrible mistake with your life. If you are experiencing either a spatial or intellectual disconnect, now is the time to leave.    "Philosophy aside, welcome to introductory applied field dynamics. Before I start to talk to you about the course, I'm going to head off all of the stupid questio

SY { A Woman's Place    A good warrior, first of all, is prepared.    I started with the base garments, which are carefully cared for, and always white. These symbolize purity of heart and of mind - when I stand against my foe, I am hindered by nothing, and empowered by my wisdom and my strength; I give all that I am into the battle, and it is by that dedication, I overcome.    The base is a single piece of fabric, and I placed my legs through slits in the bottom of the garment and then pulled it up, over my body, and placed my arms in their sleeves. I took my right hand and brought it over my left shoulder, grabbing the zipper in the c

I - Retrograde "I know you're not letting anyone in, but just hear me out. Is that too much to ask?" The sergeant's expression softened slightly from his previous, official stance of "fuck-off-reporter." "The news is going to get out - it's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when. And when it does, they're going to do the same bloody thing that they did to that professor's family, which is exploit it for all the ratings they can. We all know what happens when the guys at the Daily get ahold of a story first." His expression softened around his eyes; my ploy was working. "I'm not saying that I won't tell the story - because I will - but I

I - Compulsion Edward wasn't crazy; I didn't care what anyone else told me. I saw him the morning before he died, and he was completely fine. He kissed me goodbye when he left for his defense, and that was the last that I ever saw of him. He showed up at his defense, swung a hostile panel to his favor, and, in so doing, achieved what he had worked for years to accomplish. Somehow, I was expected to believe that the best way he could think of to celebrate was to throw himself in front of a train, with all of his research clutched to his chest. As I watched them lower his coffin into the grave, I didn't have to try to figure everything out.

I - Lucidity "What do you think of this one, daddy?" Michelle placed another of her drawings on the table, completely ignoring the breakfast in the way of her exhibition. It was another of her dream sketches; after we moved, Sarah encouraged her to draw her dreams every morning. Apparently, it somehow helped her young mind cope with the sudden changes of being dragged halfway across the country. I didn't really understand it, honestly, but Sarah was the psychologist, not me. Her tiny, blue eyes sparkled in the reflected light of the morning sun, searching desperately for my approval. I was exhausted - Sarah was still brewing our morning co