The pipes of earth, these are the hollows everywhere; the pipes of men, these are rows of tubes. Tell me about the pipes of Heaven. Who is it that blows the ten thousand disputing voices, who when of themselves they stop their talk has sealed them, and puffs out of them the opinions that they choose for themselves?
Two nights ago I dreamed I was looking for my two year old son in a maze at a street festival or other public event downtown in the town where I live. I knew the location due to the lay of the hills and the big cathedral that overlooks that part of the city.
I looked out the window of the maze and saw my son had made his way out and found his mom. At that moment, a machine gun started firing behind me and I caught a glimpse through a second window of bearded men with rifles moving around the building. I started to run but hit the floor when the next burst of fire began. I felt bullets impact me in my legs, then hips, then gut, then chest. I died, then respawned to the moment when we’d first arrived at the fair, now having knowledge of the impending attack.
I took my family away and sought shelter in a house, where we moved — at that slow, lackadaisical manner native to dreams — from room to room looking for the best spot to hide. The kids were getting distracted by toys and my wife began chatting with friends we encountered in different rooms.
The walls of the house, inside and out, were yellow.
We’re leaving in 30 minutes for a St. Patrick’s Day parade downtown.
Hello ZeroHPLovecraft, I adored this story. Recursive loop looks back at you, supersymmetry contains you a Fractal will forever torture you. It reminds me of Suzanne Delage, of Library Unpublished, of Curt Velvet. Same stories, same themes, impeccable prose. You can really feel the black lesbian who was forced to have an interview with herself over zoom. There is infinite stories infinite metafiction it feels quite suffocating.
I am wearing a Yellow turtleneck myself, you kept me waiting for months for a story shard.
How come no one has mentioned Shift Sepulchre yet? I knew the dreams of yellow halls were a tad too familiar until you flat out referenced his story. Please, never stop doing that. You internet writers might just weave your own canon. That aside: the part about the woman with cerebral palsy being nevertheless proficient at Python was as cheap as it gets... and therefore an instant belly laugh. Love how you're adapting some of Borges' ideas to the (more) modern age. Orbis Tertius might have been too much of a hassle for actual humans but maybe AI can pull it off. People yap all the time about Terminator-style AI takeover and whatnot but I do agree with the suggestion that a much spicier outcome would be if cumulative knowledge itself was eroded and AI reshaped the world in its own image. If the internet is not dead yet, it will be.
Great story. I too hope that widespread use of AI will lead to the world to become Tlön (ever since I read ficciones for the first time, i want nothing else) but as you show in the story, the world will just become a labyrinth, not a labyrinth made by men for men to discover.
Another fascinating thing about hnörir in the original story is how they are produced in a semi-
industrial way in prisons. I think that concept would be great for a story set in a Soviet or Cambodian labor camp.
This might seem like a silly idea, but I assume that the materialist in this story might enjoy, or find comfort in, *Summer Wars*.
The idea being that, all it would take to defeat the AI and its impositions is some return to the "Old Fashioned Way" -- The value of family and human connection, unity, honest communication, and prioritizing physical reality (of course) -- might attract them.
I was having issues trying to communicate to someone why certain technical tools change the inherent value of an activity. Then, instead of reading that, I read this piece which is a perfect example of something that couldn’t have been made with AI.
I swear on my family that this actually happened.
Two nights ago I dreamed I was looking for my two year old son in a maze at a street festival or other public event downtown in the town where I live. I knew the location due to the lay of the hills and the big cathedral that overlooks that part of the city.
I looked out the window of the maze and saw my son had made his way out and found his mom. At that moment, a machine gun started firing behind me and I caught a glimpse through a second window of bearded men with rifles moving around the building. I started to run but hit the floor when the next burst of fire began. I felt bullets impact me in my legs, then hips, then gut, then chest. I died, then respawned to the moment when we’d first arrived at the fair, now having knowledge of the impending attack.
I took my family away and sought shelter in a house, where we moved — at that slow, lackadaisical manner native to dreams — from room to room looking for the best spot to hide. The kids were getting distracted by toys and my wife began chatting with friends we encountered in different rooms.
The walls of the house, inside and out, were yellow.
We’re leaving in 30 minutes for a St. Patrick’s Day parade downtown.
"Despite her overwhelming qualifications..." 🤌🤌🤣
So fucking good.
Six million counts of sexual assault? Seems a little high.
Hello ZeroHPLovecraft, I adored this story. Recursive loop looks back at you, supersymmetry contains you a Fractal will forever torture you. It reminds me of Suzanne Delage, of Library Unpublished, of Curt Velvet. Same stories, same themes, impeccable prose. You can really feel the black lesbian who was forced to have an interview with herself over zoom. There is infinite stories infinite metafiction it feels quite suffocating.
I am wearing a Yellow turtleneck myself, you kept me waiting for months for a story shard.
Really liked this
How come no one has mentioned Shift Sepulchre yet? I knew the dreams of yellow halls were a tad too familiar until you flat out referenced his story. Please, never stop doing that. You internet writers might just weave your own canon. That aside: the part about the woman with cerebral palsy being nevertheless proficient at Python was as cheap as it gets... and therefore an instant belly laugh. Love how you're adapting some of Borges' ideas to the (more) modern age. Orbis Tertius might have been too much of a hassle for actual humans but maybe AI can pull it off. People yap all the time about Terminator-style AI takeover and whatnot but I do agree with the suggestion that a much spicier outcome would be if cumulative knowledge itself was eroded and AI reshaped the world in its own image. If the internet is not dead yet, it will be.
Very nice. "Pay a visit to the Backrooms via Borges."
This is my New Science™️.
Great story. I too hope that widespread use of AI will lead to the world to become Tlön (ever since I read ficciones for the first time, i want nothing else) but as you show in the story, the world will just become a labyrinth, not a labyrinth made by men for men to discover.
Another fascinating thing about hnörir in the original story is how they are produced in a semi-
industrial way in prisons. I think that concept would be great for a story set in a Soviet or Cambodian labor camp.
A provoking bit of writing. Reminds me of Piranesi by Susanna Clark
This might seem like a silly idea, but I assume that the materialist in this story might enjoy, or find comfort in, *Summer Wars*.
The idea being that, all it would take to defeat the AI and its impositions is some return to the "Old Fashioned Way" -- The value of family and human connection, unity, honest communication, and prioritizing physical reality (of course) -- might attract them.
"...a dream that she was lost in a maze with yellow walls and you were trying to find her but you kept getting turned around."
Oh, Lord. Well, given he isn't having a dream about constructing impossibly grand palaces, at least his neighbors are safe.
Correction: I spoke too soon. His neighbors are not safe.
Interesting story. I came back to read https://zerohplovecraft.substack.com/p/so-you-want-to-write-fiction-with
I was having issues trying to communicate to someone why certain technical tools change the inherent value of an activity. Then, instead of reading that, I read this piece which is a perfect example of something that couldn’t have been made with AI.
If I was your dad I would named you zero k dick! lol! Another barn burning boot slapper of a sifi yarn. I love your sweet little brain
This is a really good story. Not sure I fully understand everything so I might have to read a few more times but I can tell this is up there.
Yet another mind-bender and paradigm shifter, that is, if I still have something called a mind after reading this. No other writer like you!