《Hustling Through the Dark》Vlog #26
Advertisement
"...Hello, world.
"I'll admit that yesterday's vlog-post was a bit of a cop-out. I'm afraid that I was a bit busy trying to accomplish a few things that I didn't want to share, at least until I was finished.
"I've been trying to find out what exactly happened during the close pass of Titan, two days ago now. Unfortunately, I'm only peripherally connected at best to any Titanian affinity groups, and I don't really have any budget to spend on research. You might think that being technically licensed as a private investigator by Insulo Tri might help, but if it did, I didn't notice.
"There's a lot going on that I'm completely unaware of, and I'm entirely certain that I'm completely wrong about a good portion of what I do know. But my best guess is that I got caught in some friction between at least a couple of affinity groups. Sort of.
"One of them seems to be some sort of anti-group, sometimes called 'individualists' or 'anti-societists'. Trying to summarize their viewpoint in a few sentences, modern technology lets extremely small groups survive for long periods, and even thrive if too much doesn't go wrong; and those groups can be as small as a single person. So they figure they don't need anyone else, and anyone else who tries to limit them in any way is, by definition, a bad person. Even if those limits happen to improve the lives of both them and everyone else. Limits like laws against causing diffuse, low-grade, sub-criminal-damage harm to a large number of people, in order to gain a concrete, measurable, direct personal benefit.
"The other group is less a particular group than a collection of splinters from other groups. To the extent they've got a name, people call them 'socialists'... though that term has mutated over the centuries to the point it has pretty much no connection to anyone from my first life who'd been called that. I haven't been able to get a good handle on whatever it is they have in common; but they seem to like the fact that I'm pro-labour-union. At least enough that most of the people who've signed onto my new 'Deep Dark' data-storage enterprise seem to be reasonably closely-connected to this bunch through their social-media graphs.
Advertisement
"Part of what's been making it so hard for me to get even this much is that on Titan, there seems to be a pretty extensive culture of anonymous social media; anonymous, but pseudonymous, so that a given poster can prove they're the same one who posted something previously. Which is fine and dandy, in and of itself. But it seems to have created an entire industry of AI-farms running various accounts; most to help fill out the apparent ranks of any given affinity group who wants to promote their viewpoint over another one... which, come to think of it, is probably just about every affinity group... but also a good number designed to fake being part of a competing group, sometimes for years, to gain trust and credibility while laying the groundwork for eventually sabotaging the position they'd been arguing for. It's a whole... thing.
"One of the 'Idiot's Guide to Titan' references I found pointed out that it's still fairly expensive to fab up a realistic, lifelike body, like mine or Faz's; and even harder to make one that can fool even the sensors that can be stuffed into a wristwatch these days. So one of the ways that a Titanian can assure someone else that they're really themselves is to meet in person - and for their body to be different enough from the baseline human standard that a tissue-assembled double would have to be created as a one-off just for them, which is too expensive for nearly any would-be impersonator. The guide also pointed out that there's a common prejudice on Titan against tourists from Earth who look nearly interchangeable to each other. ... Hm, maybe that's part of why I was invited to become a Titanian - there aren't that many humanoid rat-women with feathered wings and a snake for a tail.
"Not even that guide could explain the local predilection for shiny black outfits, though.
"Where I seem to come in is that, based on a sampling of discussions, the computing-for-hire options I offered, running here on Pumpkin, alter the network topology of how some of these pseudonymous identities arrange their affairs. ... That didn't make a lick of sense, now did it? Okay, I'll try again. Some people didn't like that I'm providing a data-haven to their opponents. Particularly one that's not under Titanian authority, and something about the way Pumpkin's light-lag is going to develop over the next months knocked some of their plans off-kilter.
Advertisement
"The closest I've found to a best-guess consensus is that one or more individualists decided to communicate their displeasure to me in what they considered to be a harmless fashion. They burned some of their sock-puppet identities by anonymously buying some fairly small, surface-to-orbit drone plans; and knowing full well that they'd get shot down, launched them in my general direction.
"Of course, given what little I've managed to gather about Titanian social media, that entire consensus might be manufactured by some other server-farm with its own horde of AI-run sock-puppet conversationalists. I can't exactly do the usual Titanian thing, and go visit a coffee-klatch in person. Well, not unless I have my backup on that moon turned on, and even if I could arrange for a suitably uniquely identifiable body arranged for that version of me, having two forks of myself running would really tick off various lawyers and bureaucrats back on Insulo Tri; probably enough that they'd finally yank my business license, meaning I couldn't fulfill and get paid for my contracts at Observatory B, which would mean I'd have to start digging pretty deep into my 'just-in-case' collection of emergency backup plans.
"I suppose I could try the time-share idea from earlier, turning myself off when that fork is turned on, but... at this moment, I don't really see the point. I'm about three AU out from Titan and getting further every day, and I've tweaked my course enough that I'm pretty confident I'm not going to run into anything from Titan that might have somehow already been dropped in my way.
"Speaking of three AU, we seem to be hitting the limit of what Gerard's willing to pay for power from the Ríos de Luz. There aren't any beam-collimators in the direction we're going, so getting any further from the emitters back near Saturn would mean he'd have to have them fire off exponentially-ever-larger beams to have the same amount of power intercepting his aerosol lens. He's already down to sixty megawatts collected, so I expect him to tell them to turn off the beam, and pull in his lens-granules, any time now.
"We're really heading into the deep dark now, with very little between us and Observatory B. Sixteen AU past Titan I'll be passing what was originally called Two Thousand Five RL Forty-Three, and whose actual name I'll ignore in favour of 'Refreshing Landing', a hundred-kilometre-wide ball whose only redeeming feature is that it's almost directly along my course to Observatory B, so if something goes wrong within the next few days, I'll have someplace I could try reaching sooner than I could get to Titan. One hundred twenty-five AU past Titan is what was once known as Two Thousand Six SQ Three Seventy-Two, and that I'll call, hm, 'Silly Quackers', with similar characteristics. I think just about all the excitement is over until we reach turnover, unless something unexpected happens.
"Once I finish getting everything into place for mass-shielding against all the atoms and photons that Pumpkin is ploughing into, I expect I'm going to start really focusing on my studying. I'm not sure if I can turn that into interesting vlog posts, so we'll just have to see how that shakes out. But at least for the next few days, remember viewers, same rat-time, same rat-channel!"
Advertisement
- In Serial125 Chapters
Fallout: Vault X
An original novel set in the Fallout universe, written to be accessible to all, featuring unique people and places. Vol.II. out now Fallout: Vault X tells the story of John. A vault dweller, who spent every day of his twenty five years underground. Like his father, and his father before him. Proud to live in the last remaining bastion of humanity, all that survived The Great War of the atomic age. Hidden deep below the surface of the earth, toiling under brutal conditions. Year after year, decade upon decade. All to expand into the natural cave system the Vault occupied, building for the future. However, John knew what his forefathers did not, that everything he’d been taught was a lie. After finishing school at the age of ten, John received his standard issue pipboy. An arm mounted personal computer, worn by everyone in the Vault. Used to coordinate the relentless pace of expansion, needed to work as an apprentice. To learn the craft that would be his life’s work. A noble calling to ensure a future for all that remained of the human race. A quirk of fate saw John equipped not with the crude, clunky, pipboy model his father wore. That almost everyone around him wore. His looked smaller, sleeker, finished in a jet black sheen. And capable of doing far more than its drab counterparts. The world above had been ravaged by atomic flames, yet life clung to its bones. The Red Valley fared better than most in the century since the bombs fell. The clean water and rich soil protected by rolling hills. All spared from direct strikes, for the most part. Life survived here. Trees spawned from charred ground, misshapen, green leaves turned red. Along with simple crops, grown wild at first, then cultivated by the survivors. The scavengers of the old world were inventive, hardy people. All determined to rebuild in the ruins of a world they never knew. In the decades that passed settlements emerged. They grew, spreading along the valley floor. Reclaiming the pre-war remnants of the once industrialised heartland. Salvaging the robotic wonders of a bygone age to build their walls and work their fields. To protect them in the dark of the wasteland. But such things are uncommon in this world, and the rarer something is, the greater its value. And the worth of pre-war technology had not gone unnoticed. The last, real, power in this world rested in the mechanised hands of The Brotherhood of Steel. Forged from the mortally wounded old world military. The Brotherhood used its access to the weapons made for a conflict no one won to strike out into the wastes. Men and women were equipped with advanced armour, aerial transportation, high grade weaponry. Accompanied by the training, strength, and will, to put them to use. They established chapters and set up outputs far and wide. All dedicated to a single purpose. To ensure the technology left abandoned by its long dead creators didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Namely, any hands that were not their own. This is the world John escaped into. A place of horrors brought forth from atomic fire. A place where survival meant battling against the darkness. Fighting a war each day to get to the next. And war...war never changes
8 150 - In Serial31 Chapters
Between Mountains and Moons
Under the light of the three suns, the scorching sands of The Great Desert test any who are brave and or foolish enough to cross its vast and treacherous expanse. With each passing year, it becomes more and more of a necessity as The Great Desert is ever expanding. Omid knew this as he signed onto a caravan crossing. He knew of the dangers and ancient magics that this unrelenting land holds. He knew of ancient kingdoms long lost, buried by the sands. He knew of the strange in-human inhabitants, the true masters of The Great Desert seeking to expand their dominion and drive humanity to the edges of the world. When he is offered the chance to learn magic from a master, Omid agrees eagerly at the chance to discover such ancient arts, and to even dream of defending against a hostile world and all that would claim to rule it. But nothing in this formidable domain is ever easy, nor simple, nor as it seems. Be vigilant, act with cunning, and always remember to choose your words wisely. (Cover art by https://www.deviantart.com/dyrdottir)
8 120 - In Serial21 Chapters
Cultivation Online
Yuan was born with an incurable illness that left him blind at a young age and crippled a few years later, rendering everything below his head useless. Deemed useless and incurable, his family quickly gave up on him, and the world ignored him. In this dark and still world, his younger sister became his sole reason to live. Watch as this young man reaches for the apex as a genius in Cultivation Online, the newest VRMMORPG, becoming a legendary figure in both worlds. __ Author's Note: I am the Original Writer for this work, MLB, just under a different nickname, so stop saying it's stolen.
8 165 - In Serial28 Chapters
Imperial Academy
Higher than a commoner and lower than most nobles, Morgan Kiath is unable to fit in amongst the other students and even after a few dull months at the Imperial Academy he has not made a single friend. Yet his monotone life is about to change when he meets Marith Sian a thoughtless foreigner with little regard for Imperial traditions and hierarchy. In no time at all Morgan’s rather bleak existence is given colour by Marith and the friends that are inexplicably drawn in around the foreigner. Soon Morgan even meets his future master, the enigmatic Archmage Aspartos Mudreth and once more his life shifts in direction.Follow Morgan on his rather unexpected journey as he attends the Imperial Academy, fights an incurable disease and is apprenticed to an Archmage who is more than a little out of the ordinary.
8 150 - In Serial7 Chapters
The Last Zeus: Book 1- The Beginning
"Who is that superstar?" "Oh, him. They call him Zeus." "Zeus? As in the King of Gods from the myths?" "Ah yes, the very same." "So, where's his pantheon? Which kingdom does he rule?" "He doesn't. He's not your usual king. He's only rules his lonesome." "A king without a kingdom, interesting. So, what's his story?" "Don't ask, lest you wish you never knew."
8 120 - In Serial17 Chapters
King Eden
Two hundred years have passed and the Earth belongs to the corrupt. Society is reduced to clandestine tribes of survivors who indulge in warfare, battling one another over desolate wastelands. They are the Ancients, and Eden is their Lord. Legends cannot capture her skill as a warrior, but these stories of her ruthless past secure her title as King. A centuries-old war ravages her homeland. The tribes must unite against a force that outweighs the unnatural resilience of Earth's survivors. Mars: a utopia of refugees who outlasted the apocalypse. They spent the nuclear winter pushing the boundaries of military technology, sacrificing their resources to satisfy their greed. Now the Martian Colonies are unsustainable. Their Minister vows to reclaim the Earth for his people's sake--and he will stop at nothing to bring King Eden's reign to an end. When the Martians capture her heir to the throne, King abandons her homeland to regain the one thing that makes her human. This faces King with a savage choice: surrender to Mars in exchange for her son and the enslavement of her people, or challenge the Minister's army of metal titans and nightmarish experiments. Failure is inevitable, victory promises sacrifice. But King is no stranger to an impossible fight. After all, she is the Lord of Ancients, and power is indeed in the hands of the bloodthirsty. This story is also available on Wattpad
8 167

