# 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=1818
# next = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1918
# prev = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1718
Programmers have dozens of words for mistake: error, bug, glitch, crash, race, null deref, panic, hang, deadlock, exception, programming,
2200: Humanity captures Voyager 1, retrieves the golden disk, breathes a sigh of relief. No alien eyes would ever see these selfies.
The last thing the sinking island nations sell are their statehoods: to billionaires, multinationals, newly founded supertanker raft cities,
Analogous to concepts from philosophy that become science once measurable, any magickal method that is shown to work becomes mundane
thoughts burrow through the brain like sparkling maggots, eat through ideas, then pupate or fly away as sentences to mate and reproduce
"Suicide booths? You'd trust your dick to a diseased glory hole? What we do is art! And it's not like you'll need the money afterwards"
Love is dead in metropolis, but death in necropolis. Secret catacomb brothels offer beautiful death, quick death, meaningful death, anything
a blueprint grows on your skin, somewhat disconcerting but painless↵↵until you're abducted and kept in a cell to "ripen"
current status: *comes home, shatters into a thousand pieces on the floor, slowly melts*
&: what if comparing with zero were hard↵%: haha yeah hilarious, let's run this as a universe
so if the matrix is the effective topos (turing machines), what would universes running in the other topoi look like
"oh shit man these rhymes are so hot we're gonna have to apply flow control"
Idea for #33c3: Place an access point inside the TARDIS that announces the 34C3 wifi
you gaze into the abyss and it shyly averts its eyes, not used to that sort of attention
have you tried putting the problem into a centrifuge and dumping the precipitate instead of solving it
books grow in this library, ripe with memetic spores, fruiting bodies of an extensive mythelium system that supplies them with ideas
acid snow falls, shimmers like nacre, snowflakes distorted and twisted
quoth youtube:↵"only true void kids will get this, like if u r one"↵"sicker than my dead grandma"↵"three people forgot their hearing aids"
4'33 sped up to 4x (chipmunk remix)
queering the MBTI hex: IQTP, QSFP, IQQP, IDDQD(no wait-)
a race of mechas that hatch from large geodesic domes they're assembled in
probably an overly specific choice of algorithm, but you get the idea
and SNAP, it's bound! If you set up the sigil properly that is. Use the wrong sigil and it may fail to bind, or worse. You don't want worse.
Once active, the sigil plucks the strings of spacetime in just the right way, lures in a spider. It presses a face against the prison bars,
This is a fundamental theorem of modern demonology! Until then, nobody knew why specific grids worked or how to find new (safe) sigils!
The Chladni Correspondence tells us: From each name, you can derive a resonance pattern that you can use to call in and then bind a demon.
Did you know demons don't actually manifest "inside" a summoning circle? As summoners know, they appear under it like sharks against a cage
Magical radiation makes the city's houses develop cancers: Walls covered in door handles, bays protruding everywhere, atavistic buttresses
they're firebows, small enough to fit in your hand whole, and so many shades of red and orange↵you pluck one like a flower
it is a calm summer night↵a tiny cloud floats in through your window, rains on your floor↵for a short moment, your candles cast rainbows
I walk over clouds, blue abyss below me. Raindrops float up, islands drift overhead, rivers span the sky like a web
In an untold version of the Odyssey, Circe left Odysseus on her island to rot and became Captain Circe, ship crewed with her animal servants
the Novaya Zemlya: one part vodka, one part another vodka, and another part yet another vodka
Horror vacui: Fear of empty space↵Furor vacui: The all-devourer to be afraid of↵Error vacui: That one time the void birthed a universe
how 2 invest: you send it currency and a conversational script it can run, more successful scripts obviously yield higher returns
a chatbot that runs in one of those smart contract blockchains and supports itself through scamming people on messengers & dating sites
"Why cats?" Well, source material is readily available, and would humans really let digital life into their files if it weren't cute?
Their avatars are catlike, but constantly morph in subtle patterns to signal kinship: Non-kin are quickly recognized and killed really dead.
They're really fond of zip files for some reason. If you open one that's been undisturbed for a few weeks, you may see a catbot scamper away
Some of those computer viruses have now evolved to be benign, in fact hunt other viruses in exchange for shelter, wear cat pictures as icons
noise cancelling headphones but for the whole sensorium, a wearable sensory deprivation chamber
Due to EU cookie laws, we need you to consent to us using your soul for summoning elder entities and improving user experience↵( ) [I agree]↵( ) gₑₜ ₘₑ ₒᵤₜ ₒf ₕₑᵣₑ
You run into the monthly simulation limit and suddenly the world becomes low poly, sounds tinny, and the same twelve thoughts play in a loop
technological singularity but in a circling-the-drain sort of way, event horizon as the point of no return
Two black holes merging, and a civilization moving to higher radio frequencies as it heads towards singularity, sound fundamentally the same
"credit limit" but for technical debt, the amount of hurried decisions a system can absorb before becoming awful
The "ant hill" model of software development: With enough bugs, surely there will emerge swarm intelligence
against this backdrop, its flowers look like neon mazes suspended in space, the sort of surface you'd expect Tron to play on
some sort of hyper-evolved plant grows in his lab, leaves of pure black surrounded by a dark halo where they suck the light out of the air
skybox factory where they make all the skies that appear in games
We got used to escaped solar-powered drones buzzing around street lights at night, but got suspicious when the first started bearing fruit
forums so old and large that there are hidden areas not even the moderators know of, found only through secret links and posted on by ghosts
The news:↵Content farms under fire for methane overproduction↵President Grump of Prussia marries sixth wife, a cactus↵Real news: a threat?
when left to its own devices, a search engine will dream of links and networks, and lost in their abstract beauty hallucinate a second web
we hunt beholders for their eyes since that's where beauty lies, each exquisite artifact once a beholder's joy in life
a hand-sized nostradamus follows you around, forecasts all manners of tiny dooms: you'll lose a coin, your favorite sweater will tear,
"can't he just have sex with earthers over his VR rig"↵right, have you tried playing counterstrike on a server that's literally on the moon
He has a few million social media followers and an impressive dakimakura collection he printed, mostly posts poems and holos of moonscapes.
2030: The man in the moon is an actual person, stuck there since the Space War triggered a Kessler effect. Bit lonely fellow.
endless confusion as godlings struggle with the concept of monads ("hang on we'll get you out of that box", "no no no not those monads")
any plot with time travel will either be about time travel, or people will complain that the time travel bit was random
At multiversity, godlings can choose among many subjects like miracleworking, theoretical & applied demiurgy, mathematics, cellular automata
He takes a pull. "No, I did find myself. I've been running ever since."
clear dark: dreamless type 0, highest $$↵white swirls: common & popular↵tortured faces: junk.↵rainbow glimmer: rare, strongly hallucinogenic
A tap to the donor's temple collects what's ideally a clear dark fluid. Else, the wrong dream type may cause severe memetic immune response.
Bottled sleep, milked from the poor and homeless, has become popular on the black market. It's someone else's sleep, but at least it's some.
I do wonder, when the catholic church does devops, do they bless the hosts
we have temples in every simulation↵at mass, there will be blessed pancakes in the image of our universe stack, drenched in holy maple syrup
stated cult goal: leverage singularities to convert the world into computronium to run more universes on
join my cult, the church of the exponential slowdown
Not surprisingly, they find our diamond, run it themselves, find us.↵The link has been established, the chain closed.↵Q.E.D.
They run it. We watch. The chain becomes longer, the simulators' direction clearer. We infer their next change, embed a diamond, and run it.
You run it, of course. It's… not that alien, actually. There's still humans, some good, some bad. And then, in it, another diamond shows up.
You find the laws of a universe in a memory diamond. It turns out to be the precursor to ours, a window onto the simulators' past mistakes.
a click generator botnet gets caught up in one of the campaigns and pretty much by accident creates the first machine religion
I suppose the one who sets it up and tweaks the parameters would be a metaprophet, though with the correct prefix they'd be a protoprophet
fully automated religion whose prophet is a program that generates scripture and imagery, places those as ads, and learns from clickthroughs
actually, you can kill a hydra, just sew on enough heads to cancel out the existing ones
your hand flickers, molts, ｈｕｒｔｓ around the little cornucopia, old-looking circuit scars appear on your arm, spread like a rash
that close to the reactor, dead pixels cloud your vision, but you reach in anyway↵the glitch core burns you icily, but your people will live
mold has fallen from the sky, covered everything in white fuzz, and we venture outside only in spore-proof clothing and filter masks
sample every madness, try every sin↵the exquisite and the vulgar ones, the chemical and the mystical↵give your identity a dozen STDs
the first practical invisibility cloaks are unwieldy boxes, but that's enough to vanish into warm unseen darkness when required
the Poor, or as we've come to call them, FinCel,
did you hear that in some parts of the internet, you aren't allowed to see the unpixelated face of your waifu until you've married her
I imagine that the shell rotates slowly as it grows, so the older a part of the city, the more distinctly lopsided houses and streets are
a snail so old and large that a city has grown into the shell, houses cling to it, countless pulleys handle traffic, a castle sits on top
finding privilege escalations in the gender binary
fuzzing the gender binary
In an insidious twist on cryogenic immortality, criminals have invented the cryolocker, freezing people and holding them for ransom
Dances with Egregores, where our hero is sent to the frontier of cyberspace, befriends the digital natives, learns to shitpost, finds love,
I know house boats are great but consider house zeppelins, you could fly wherever, park wherever, host sick parties, get lost over the ocean
lost+found but for minds: some with owners missing, some simply refusing to return, others not even human, probably lost by alien tourists
SHADOW CHARACTERS:↵Moon: vapid↵Fire: airheaded, forgetful↵Moon during lunar eclipse: giddy, very meta↵Sirius: bros↵KIC 8462852: ⠠⠠⠁⠽⠽⠀⠠⠠⠇⠍⠁⠕
Shadows take the character of their source. Electric light's are dumb, the sun's boorish. But during new moon, you can talk to distant stars
Too many minds? Trouble with ingroups springing up everywhere? Atomize the problem with our Moloch™ mindkiller!↵CALL 555-CIVILIZATION
Growth rings play over the surface like moiré patterns, leaves grow and wilt like little flames. The smell of resin is overpowering.
The fire advances and the trees melt, off their branches drips liquid wood that runs off like tar, unites into wooden lava streams