# I am the Watcher. I am your guide through this vast new twtiverse.
#
# Usage:
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/users View list of users and latest twt date.
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/twt View all twts.
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/mentions?uri=:uri View all mentions for uri.
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/conv/:hash View all twts for a conversation subject.
#
# Options:
# uri Filter to show a specific users twts.
# offset Start index for quey.
# limit Count of items to return (going back in time).
#
# twt range = 1 3418
# self = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1518
# next = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1618
# prev = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1418
Cities claimed by rising oceans are going to become an interesting habitat, probably as complex as coral reefs spatially and chemically?
Everything was used, but only the skeletons were preserved and put windows in. Incense was used mainly to mask the lingering smell of decay.
Now extinct, wild cathedrals were once popular game. Sure, it took a whole community to hunt one but its meat would sustain them for a year.
Leave your virginity under the pillow and the virginity fairy will visit you in the night and take it.↵(It's the first step that is hard)
don't make your metaphors too fertile or they'll become a weed and grow all over your mind
random bad idea: fullcircle, a linker for (micro)services that takes in a number of API specs and produces a spec for the composite system
The dragon is on the hunt again: A tiny black speck stands out against the sky, around which the clouds part like a frightened shoal of fish
you slept through the train's final stop and wake up to clouds under your window, no ground in sight, a green sky, an ocean arcing across it
skeleton daymares are haunted by meatsacks that evoke memories of imprisonment, suffocating heat, sticky flesh, pain
this is a pronoun that refers to itself
Integral to any merfolk fortress are its moats, cunningly interwoven currents and vortexes that pull in and spit out any would-be invader.
you can now make out features on the comet, huge machines, bridges, palaces that move and start to glow as it plows through the clouds
emoji input method where you grimace into the camera
You rub your eyes to watch the phosphenes. One bounces around,↵seems to eat the others,↵turns towards you, grows,↵okay stop, you open your e
branches orbit an impossible tree rooted in vacuum itself, bear universe fruits full of possibility as if to make up for the tree
metadata is actually the most useful surveillance data per bit, it's what you store/query first when you lack the resources to use it all
Infected fire is pale, tame, textured with dark threads of parafire, shows intelligence never seen in its feral cousin - we keep it as pet
Parafire, fuzzy void mold, has started growing on our flames, stunting their growth but in doing this, paradoxically prolonging their life
The sun rises, the city opens and releases the stench of a busy night. In a safe distance, trade caravans already wait to pollinate.
The sun sets, the city furls up into a bud around a gleaming central spire, exposing only the tough hide of its belly to the hostile night.
What if there's a rich existing toolset to deal with words that have power, right in front of us?↵What if magical thinking is actually good?
similarly, there are ideas that cannot be voiced, not because they're ineffable, rather they're ruined the moment you use language for them
there is a place that cannot be found through maps and cannot be described - show the way or tell the story, and you will never see it again
Our service: We obtain the login of your deceased friend/spouse/senpai and post an in-character tweet or two at a random point in the future
[pursues a thread hinted at in @MoralOfStory's latest weird.solar piece: https://weird.solar/spoffed-38ad5250a139 - humans as will organelles]
(It's interesting how moral philosophy and law informed by a concept of free will result in actual homunculi emerging - as above, so below?)
These machines could be autonomous but, to be legible to law, still contain humans to serve as homunculi, ceremonial loci of free will.
now we add some acid and wait for the time crystals to precipitate ~ see light and thoughts be captured and make them ring with resonance~
clouds of basalt and airships of granite contrast the sun, throw shadows on wisps of vapor covering the ground and playing around my feet
There's no getting off a neutron star's surface, nor below it. Constrained to two dimensions, a universe plays over it and we watch.
The sun rises and you see feral drones hanging off power lines. A familiar sight: They provide both power and protection against scavengers.
«You are the first to summon me! Leave a good rating in the Dictionnaire and you'll get a special price! Competition is tough these days...»
the light of truth illuminates only ruins, once proud ontologies now picked clean, bone cathedrals haunted by thoughts bereft of purpose
The street sign says "End of the self". How cute,↵↵sense turns to sand↵the direction, gone↵feral thoughts tear into what's left like maggots
Trolling is the noble pursuit of teasing answers out of the huge and crusty mainframe we call Internet. Without an operating manual!
▣: Inert. Seemingly powered by a Turing oracle. Finds halting inputs for any machine, including experimenters' brains. Dangerous and useless
become motion, ride the rhythm, ebb and flow↵dance with the vortices, kiss the molecules, caress every atom↵be gentle but unrelenting chaos
So you want to be a demiurge? Oh yes! Create! So pretty! And then suddenly you've made all these beings, suffering,↵help↵you never meant to
In Fractal City, maps are intricate and expensive. And if you leave them unguarded, squatters will move in and turn them into territories.
In Fractal City, cleaning with water is prohibited. It was a careless cleaning lady on the low-res levels who caused the last great flood.
Here in Fractal City, you'll always find a house. Just don't be surprised when your bed's underside turns out to be the red light district.
In the kelp forests, you can always tell the local dominant species by whether the dryads have flippers, tentacles, antennae, pincers,
Comet punch is 1/4 Rum, 1/4 actual moonshine, 1/2 apple juice, cinnamon & comet ice. The hangover will hit you again, and again, and again.
The palace walls are made from the heads of his enemies. As you walk past, they mouth insults at you, beg for mercy, gibber without voice,
a heavenly melody, but from up close you hear the tiny voices of tortured souls straining against the inside of each note↵don't be drawn in
there's a membrane of comforting illusions between you and reality, you can peel it off like a screen's, oh so tempting and such a bad idea
the Chinese Room argument but applied to universes - humans aren't turing-computable, ergo a turing-computable universe can't contain humans
The most noble ideas are hard to capture. Like their gaseous brethren, they float free and don't connect with anything.
people are going to miss the eternal september when it ends: after it comes winter
secret to immortality is to destroy anything else that could eat you, including other people, bacteria, entropy and time
When the body walks on for a while after having been decapitated, that's called experiencing a case of phantom brain.
"Hah, we're going to need a comb to crucify that guy!"↵It was not Centipede Jesus' best day.
A few things are immediate and real in Plato's cave: The chains binding its inhabitants, chafing against their ankles, the constant pain.
The tree is large enough to have weather: Clouds nest in its branches, swarm out at night and return to its protective shadow during day.
Mathematical constellations shift, truth-gazers over their notes and proof assistants see ancient theorems break under their hands and panic
making a deal with the devil only to find out that you were outfitted with a cheap counterfeit soul and the deal is null
tweets about comets return every few months
⁂ Theorists found guilty of planting a logic bomb under popular ideology ⁂ Government busy rescuing survivors from the atomized remains ⁂
the rainbow has gained an additional black, deep and brilliant, the thunder seems to be forming words, the wind feels like searching hands
nostalgia for science: reminiscing about the huge machines we built, the coherence of our visions, the conviction that one could know
"One day, my dear", says the valkyrie, "you may enter Týnhall, to dine with the forgotten. But your time has not come. Go back."
the sun has gotten stuck in a tree just over the horizon and now the sunset isn't ending, the vultures are already circling
"But dawn is gentle, it has no edge!" Well, not anymore anyway.↵She who stole it also took meaning, the easy life, at least three emotions,
Swords of the gods:↵Day's Edge, forged from a stolen morning↵Zahn der Zeit, wrested from time's maw itself↵Distinction, leaves nothing whole
So you want to attain higher consciousness? Fool! Changing a knot's number requires its undoing. Your identity will not make it across!
Strange loops form only the most basic of consciousnesses. Higher levels require strange knots and are classified by their prime knots.
He tinkers day and night. One morning, finally free from the shackles of language, he enters ▁▂▃▄▅ ▉░▒▓▉▙⯬⯄⯮✀ ⛊⛊⛊⭆⬮⬮⬮⬯⛟⠙⠳⣄ 𝄾𝄿𝅀𝅁𝅂࿉࿉࿉ ࿉
the raindrops just kind of stop falling a meter over the ground and float along in the humid air like a bunch of wet marbles
a plasma wind buffets the dendrite prairies of an unnamed gas giant's moon, discharges play along their swaying tips, deposit further ions
there's an ocean behind your mirror, usually invisible but sometimes at night you faintly see something luminous swim by
amphibious clouds that soar the sky, then nosedive and underwater become swarms of air bubbles
dryad scholars debating the question of tree will
we are the birds that nest in the timelines, perch in the decision tree's branches, sing to you in your sleep of what could have been
"No sweetie, those aren't UFOs, those are sky maintenance drones! They change the stars when they break and make the sky not fall!"
Have a light smog problem? Our Firmament™ artificial skies may be just what you need! Custom constellations, extra moons, reusable meteors
What is a skull? It not only keeps the world out, it also keeps a mind from dissolving. The difference really comes down to skull thickness.
Minds exists in a sweet spot between isolation and dissolution. Too high the bandwidth and a mind starts to prefer the outside over itself.
A mind becomes its own universe the moment it's sealed off from the outside. Conversely, universe becomes mind the moment it makes contact.
• Emails with Gödelian Inputs crashing brains around the globe • Some curiously unaffected, say they have experience not losing "The Game" •
(Bogus like their constant UFO sightings, nobody would tap a cable in these places, it took a lot of debugging to get them off that)
"see that traffic dump? if you graph the sequence numbers of packets likely lost in the COLUMBUS III cable, it spells out A·▒·L·A·N·▒·I·S!"
The NSA has apophenic AIs fishing for steganographic messages. They are a jumpy bunch but kind of adorable if you can get one's attention.
Have you tried weaving a narrative that makes the problem appear insignificant?
Sometimes, it settles in its nest behind the Moon. Such eclipsed, only superheated clouds of cooking Moon surface betray its presence.
one sunbird rides the plasma winds to Earth, enters an orbit, replaces the sun that is now a slowly cooling shell receding in the distance
morning has broken, no, hatched: with a roar, the sun breaks up into a swarm of blazing birds and the planets whizz off into all directions
a ray of light arrives from the stars, a death cry, a warning, full of purpose but nothing records it↵"look how it twinkles, how pretty"
They tow molecules together into palaces that last only microseconds, civilizations rise and fall in what we'd hear as a high-pitched whine.
Atomic faeries battle between the molecules, where conservation of energy is more of a guideline and a single photon is a terrible weapon.
Kickstart us to coax from Prometheus the other secrets the gods withheld, they'll rain lightning on us but that's no match for a livestream
seriously shit my whole harvest is ruined they're all trying to find their "identities" now fuck, grimdark crystals pff more like flimflark
oh no who of you told my crystals about art, now they're all trying to be unique, glittery and twisted instead of straight and translucent
you should get up but the act of creation is so joyful and all these jungles and civilizations will dissipate like smoke the moment you move
lie in bed and watch worlds grow, cover your body, the bed, the walls like mold, a hurricane no larger than a hand travels your pillow
"It's actually fractal!" - "oh no NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR ACID VISIONS HIPPIE"↵"May I suggest a cubical-" - "no, fuck off to timecube"
The shape of cyberspace becomes a matter of much debate: "It's flat!" "No, it's round" "It's both and there is a great firewall at its end!"