Month: September 2014

Trope-a-Day: I’m a Humanitarian

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I’m a Humanitarian: There is, of course, absolutely nothing special about the tissues of sophont species – yours or others’ – that stops them from being grown as fauxflesh in a carniculture vat in the exact same way that any other tissues can.

It’s certainly, ah, outré (I believe is the polite word), and often considered exactly as decadent as it sounds, but it’s hard to see from an ethical perspective (or at least their ethical perspective) what exactly is wrong with it (No sophonts and indeed no non-sophont critters were harmed in the making of this food.), or why it ought to be illegal.  (Except for the copyright issue, of course – don’t try setting up your own range of, um, celebrity restaurants without the proper licenses.)

So, yes, you can go to sophophage restaurants.  You can leave off some cell samples a month or two in advance and go to autophage restaurants (see: Autocannibalism).  And in other areas, yes, you can have leather made from cloned skin, the Banks-style “ownskin suit” and other such products.

But even in this society, most people still think it’s kind of kinky.

Trope-a-Day: I Know Your True Name

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I Know Your True Name: In the Empire, the UCID (Universal Citizen Identifier), or for non-citizen-shareholders, its lesser cousin the SI (Sophont Identifier) is a unique and unambiguous technological True Name.  You can’t do much with it, though, unless you also happen to have the proper ackles, which they don’t give out to just anybody.

Trope-a-Day: “I Know You’re In There Somewhere” Fight

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“I Know You’re In There Somewhere” Fight: Averted.  If you think one of these is going on, you’re being Wrong Genre Savvy, and quite possibly, you’re being suckered by someone who thinks that they know that you’re Wrong Genre Savvy.  Neither downloading-and-replacement, nor editing into compliance leave the original person in their brain, never mind capable of doing anything.  Nor do possession or puppeteering leave them any way to control their own body, under virtually any circumstances.

Standard procedure, therefore, is to kill the zombie and restore from backup.  If you need the information they might have acquired before getting caught and pithed, well, shoot to incapacitate and hope that once you get their brain back to the lab it turns out to be a quick-and-dirty puppet job, because that’s the only way it’ll be there any more.

Trope-a-Day: IKEA Weaponry

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IKEA Weaponry: There are a number of these, mostly analogous to their real-world equivalents.  The exception is Eye-in-the-Flame Arms’s Puzzle Pistol, which is a 3D puzzle made from geometric chunks of blue-black diamondoid that can be disassembled from its polyhedral resting form and reassembled into an oddly-shaped cartridge (i.e., non-mass-driver) pistol capable of firing a single preloaded slug.  It’s really more of an executive toy than a practical weapon, but has occasionally been used in practice…

And there’s the way that most weapons are usually assembled from modular components in the first place, sometimes in the field by nanolathes, but those usually don’t come apart again afterwards.

Trope-a-Day: I Don’t Like The Sound Of That Place

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I Don’t Like The Sound Of That Place: The Last Darkness constellation (centered around the black hole, Eye of Night) would be one of these – even though it’s actually quite a nice place to visit – as would the three stargates leading into the Leviathan Consciousness Containment Zone, Hell’s Mouth, Conjoiner’s Gullet, and Unreturn.  The Charnel Cluster, where the entire population and ecology were slaughtered by a seed AI experiment Gone Horribly Right would also qualify.

On Eliera itself, the Frozen Hell is a long stretch of tundra which is, well, exactly what it says on the tin.  The Stonedeath Barrens and the Bloody Wastes both commemorate ancient battles – lots of them, in roughly the same place – and the Makerforges are an unpleasantly volcanic mountain chain.  Nightfall Crater doesn’t seem so bad, until you recall the Winter of Nightmares, what caused it, and therefore exactly how many people the thing you’re standing on killed.

A remarkable number of fortresses and walled cities with portentous names, on the other hand are actually perfectly lovely places to live or visit; the names were purely for advertising – adversetising? abvertising? – purposes.

Trope-a-Day: I Did What I Had To Do

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I Did What I Had To Do: This is the defining trope of the Fifth Directorate, whose entire existence as a too-black-to-even-have-a-budget quasi-independent, not asked about and definitely never telling, doing things which not only should decent people not know about but which it is important that they don’t know about, agency is to be That Evil Which Exists In Order To Oppose Worse Evils.  (Specifically, things of the order of existential threats.  Mere wars, terrorism, and suchlike trivia are not their concern.)

(Well, it’s one of them: the other is No Place For Me There.)

Sédármódan

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Having used the word, guess I should define it, huh?

sédármódan (pej.):

  1. Democrat.
  2. Voter.
  3. Mutual slaver (lit. “owned owner-of-sophonts”); compare dármódan (“slaver”).

It should be noted that the definition of this term reflects Imperial local attitudes and political taxonomies, in which any governance apparatus not meeting their definition of a Society of Consent (i.e., which non-consensually subordinates the individual to the group, e.g., by regulating its citizens’ non-externality activities, violating the fundamental rights in accordance with the Fundamental Contract, etc.) is deemed a korasmóníë (“force-state”) and equivalently illegitimate, if not equally obnoxious in their sight, as all other korasmóníë, regardless of their actual internal construction as a democratic, cyberdemocratic, republican, consensus-based anarchy, etc., system.

Outside the Empire, the term coríalqarr (“thought-counting”, used within the Empire to refer only to consensual voting-based decision systems) and its derivatives are more commonly used to refer to democratic systems of governance. It should, however, be noted that within the libertist Empire and to a lesser extent within the Consensual Cultural Region as a whole, this usage is considered at best a euphemism and at worst an apologist’s shibboleth. The wise speaker should endeavor to be aware of local political attitudes before selecting terminology for effect.

– Dictionary of Trade Eldraeic, min Sarthall, League Press

Trope-a-Day: No Place For Me There

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No Place For Me There: Again, the Fifth Directorate.  They may be necessary monsters1, but they know that they’re monsters.  Retirement from the Fifth involves an extensive memory wipe and having the traits that made you useful to them and dangerous to everyone else wiped away, a degree of mental editing which is almost always enough of an abolishment of identity to be legally equivalent to suicide.

[1] In the exact and precise sense of the trope page quote (which is copied below), taken from the Operative in Serenity. Except, mark you, that the Alliance is merely a conventional democratic government along our familiar Earth-type lines – which is to say, by Imperial standards, an appalling sédármódan crypto-tyranny – which should give you some idea of how big the I’m-a-monster complexes of the equivalent people whose baseline is an actual bona-fide Society of Consent grow to be…

The Operative: I believe in something greater than myself. A better world. A world without sin.
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: So me and mine gotta lay down and die so you can live in your better world?
The Operative: I’m not going to live there. There’s no place for me there, any more than there is for you. Malcolm… I’m a monster. What I do is evil. I have no illusions about it, but it must be done.
— Serenity

The Shipping Trade (3): Outbound

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“Lunar Transshipment One, Station Ops, this is CMS Greed and Mass-Energy in slot ailek corse three five on flight plan code niner-three-zero-eleven-one. Request taxi instructions for orbital maneuvering transfer zone, over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, Station Ops. You are cleared to proceed from outer docking to transfer zone via outbound lane lirek tarse in nine-five pulses, cold-gas only. Maintain station-relative velocity below ten fips within outer docking zone. Forbidden thrust vector map available on subchannel gishalel; exercise caution and separation for crossing minor traffic at range from station two-five-zero-zero, OTV Mucker’s Bucket. Contact Kythera Orbital for further clearance holding at range from station one-zero-kay, no need to recontact Ops. Ack and back. Over.”

“Station Ops, Greed and Mass-Energy, acknowledge clearance to transfer zone via lirek tarse in nine-five, cold-gas only, maintain sub ten fips inside zone, forbidden thrust vectors on gishalel, watch out for crossing minor traffic at two-five-zero-zero, hold and contact Orbital at one-zero-kay. Executing in one-zero-zero mark, thanks for your hospitality. Clear.”

“Kythera Orbital, this is CMS Greed and Mass-Energy holding one-zero-kay downrange of Transshipment One, zero relative. We are bound outsystem to Wynérias, our flight plan code niner-three-zero-eleven-one – request you open our flight plan at first convenient block. Standing by. Over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, Kythera Orbital, wait two… Greed and Mass-Energy, flight plan is activated as filed. Squawk ident, no subcode. You are cleared initial for transfer to lunar outbound transfer orbit level four, slot three-gilek, initiate two-gravity prograde burn per route-book in four-one-five pulses, circularize at apoapsis, skies are clear. Call back once established. Ack and back. Over.”

“Kythera Orbital, Greed and Mass-Energy, squawking ident only, acknowledge clearance to outbound transfer level four slot three-gilek, two grav prograde in four-one-five, circularize at apoapse, callback when done. Clear.”

“Kythera Orbital, Greed and Mass-Energy, established at outbound transfer level four slot three-gilek and standing by for further clearance, over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, Kythera Orbital, you are cleared continuance for transfer to planetary outbound transfer orbit slot eleven-seven, initiate two-gravity burn per route-book at next apoapsis, circularize on slot entry, skies are clear. Contact Kythera SysCon on channel one-one-four-point-ten once established, no need to recontact Orbital. Ack and back, and fair voyage. Over.

“Kythera Orbital, Greed and Mass-Energy, acknowledge clearance to planetary outbound transfer slot eleven-seven, two grav by the book at apoapse, circularize at entry, contact SysCon on one-one-four-point-ten. Thanks, and clear orbits! Clear.”

“Ah, Kythera Orbital, Greed and Mass-Energy, bit of a flutter there, give us an eccentricity check, please? Over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, we show five balls on current orbit, a one in the last digit. Orbital, clear.”

“Much thanks, Orbital. Kythera SysCon, this is CMS Greed and Mass-Energy in Kythera outbound slot eleven-seven, bound outsystem to Wynérias, flight plan code niner-three-zero-eleven-one, standing by for instructions.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, Kythera SysCon, we have you in the zone. Clarify preferred vector and acceleration profile, over.”

“SysCon, Greed and Mass-Energy, proceed on direct brachy to Wynérias Stargate, acceleration four point eight for zero/zero gate intercept, over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, SysCon, you are cleared to initiate brachy burn in seven-one-eight pulses, acceleration as specified. Proceed direct, confirm variances and skew-flip on this channel. Ack and back. Over.”

“SysCon, Greed and Mass-Energy, acknowledge clearance for brachy burn in seven-one-eight, proceed direct, confirm skew-flip and any variances on this channel. Clear.”

“Kythera SysCon, Greed and Mass-Energy on direct brachistochrone routing ex Kythera Actual to Wynérias Stargate, flight plan code niner-three-zero-eleven-one, confirming skew-flip as requested, initiation in five-one-eight-four pulses from… mark. No deviations. Over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, SysCon acknowledges skew-flip in five-one-eight-four from mark. Clear.”

“Kythera SysCon, this is CMS Greed and Mass-Energy approaching the Wynérias Stargate, gating out-system to Wynérias at this time. No return flight-plan to file. Over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, SysCon. We show you departing Kythera System at 5158-11-10:4+35-11. You are clear to gate at your discretion; squawk null. Come back and see us sometime. Over.”

“SysCon, squawking all zeroes, will do and thanks. Greed and Mass-Energy, clear.”

“Gate in range. Initiating integration sequence. Computing transit mass/volume parameters. Gating fee transaction has cleared. Gate is hot; receiving transit vector.”

“Time to gating initiation point, seven-two pulses. Main engine shutdown; switching to thrusters. Time to zero/zero, six-four pulses.”

“Preferential-frame buffers integrated and slaved. Frame trap executed. Timelike axis locked to empire timebase.”

“All stations secure for transit. Board reads blue across. Gate commit.”

“Gating confirmed.”

“Drift nominal, under one-kay. Longscan update-squirt received and on the glass. Local space is clear, ‘weave is up, spinning down from transit.”

“Wynérias SysCon, this is CMS Greed and Mass-Energy, gated in-system from Kythera, identifying. Over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, Wynérias SysCon, we have you arriving at 5158-11-10:4+37-20; squawk ident. Specify intentions. Over.”

“SysCon, Greed and Mass-Energy, squawking ident. Request clearance for direct brachy transfer to Wynérias Actual at four point eight gravities, intend docking at Port Sung Orbital. Over.”

“Greed and Mass-Energy, you are cleared to proceed as stated at discretion. Contact again before reaching Wynérias orbital control zone boundary. SysCon, clear.”

 

Trope-a-Day: I Come In Peace

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I Come In Peace: Actually, the usual first words exchanged are usually something like 0000 0001 0001 0010 0011 0101 1000 1101, or some such, while communication is still being invented between the contactor and the contactee (i.e., First Contact Math).

But if we’re limiting ourselves to words spoken once the language problem has been solved, it’s probably something more along the lines of “We wish to parlay.  Could you connect us to a decisive individual, please?” (i.e., Take Me To Your Leader).  After all, until you’ve talked to them for a while, got to know a bit about them, how do you know whether You Come In Peace or not?  The honestly-inclined Imperials would hate to mislead anyone on this point out of ignorance, or accidentally.

Tropes-a-Day: Named Weapons / I Call It Vera

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Named Weapons: Inevitably, since mechanimism is such a pervasive memeplex, where all the custom-designed and customized, personalized, prototype, historically significant, or merely used-by-one-person-in-a-tight-spot-or-for-a-long-time weapons are concerned. Even leaving aside the ones which are run by animating intelligences, who of course have names by virtue of being animating intelligences.

Granted, while many of those are indeed adequately elegant, mythic, threatening, or at least as adequately styled by their crafters as, say, the Engine of Empyrean Enlightenment, many are also codenames (say, CALYX HOLLOW or FATEFUL LIGHTNING) or merely evolved forms of…

I Call It Vera: Mechanimism ensures that this gets played straight, too, especially for anything as inherently personal as a chap’s weapons. And, y’know, if they later become historically or mythopoetically significant, it’s not like you can go around changing its name retroactively. Bad form, that would be.

Inspirational Art

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Since today’s trope-a-day was quite short, and tomorrow’s will be also, I thought I’d take a moment and share my Pinterest board where I stash assorted imagery that I find inspirational, writing-wise, for general delectation.

(Note that none of these are my pictures, nor were any drawn/created for my universe, and they all belong to other people; they’re merely things I found on-line that tickled my inspiration-bug.)

Follow Alistair’s board Eldraeverse Inspirations on Pinterest.

Incidentally, if you should know of any other art out there that fits the spirit of the Eldraeverse, do please let me know!

Trope-a-Day: I Am Legion

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I Am Legion: Any Fusion (permanent hive mind, although Self-Fusions, being copies of the same mind to start with, often stick to the singular) or conflux (temporary ad-hoc group consciousness), for a start…

(Notably, the Transcend as a whole is not known for this: as a collective consciousness of individuals who are only fused at the level of the entelechically-annealing recursively-optimal distributed logos bridge/soul-shard, it’s too loosely organized to have that whole conscious-level We Are Oneness going on, except under rather special circumstances.)

Trope-a-Day: Hyperspeed Escape

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Hyperspeed Escape: A theoretical tactic, beloved of armchair admirals: drag half of a stargate pair with you to the battle, and then – if you’re losing, or if you’re ambushed – escape through it and disable/collapse it behind you such that the enemy can’t follow.

This, of course, ignores that:

  1. Stargates are slow (subluminal-only) and can’t pass through each other; and
  2. Stargates have the maneuverability and acceleration-curve you might expect of things with freakin’ gravitational singularities at their cores; and
  3. If something did punch through the armoring on the gate, it and its counterpart tend to explode with system-wrecking force, which is a problem for everyone; and
  4. If you do spin the stargate down successfully and break the entanglement, you’re then abandoning an evaporating Schwarzschild hole in an unplanned orbit, which isn’t exactly environmentally friendly; and
  5. Leaving all that aside, you just threw away an asset worth an obscene amount of money, which you could have instead spent on bringing an entire second, maybe even a third, task force to the battle in question, thus obviating the need to make your quick escape in the first place.

This is why people rightly ignore armchair admirals.

(That said, one can manage the “my acceleration and delta-v are superior” kind, which isn’t really hyperspeed, but in general, space is big and accelerations are relatively low and as such it is a truth universally acknowledged that it’s a really spectacularly dumb idea to get yourself inside someone’s engagement envelope if you aren’t confident that you can take ’em.)

No Wolves, No Sheep

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“We believe that for a specialized organ to arrogate to themselves the responsibility and sole right to provide other people’s safety as a matter of course is merely another form of mutually regressive servitude. The enforced helplessness of the protected invites ignorance, vulnerability, and oppression; the hubris of the would-be protector renders it an accessory to victimization, if not an oppressor in its own right. As long as there are bancrach and nekhalyef there will be tyranny; all should be as the bandal, and defend their pack as their own.”

“Thus, the Watch Constabulary is not a monopolistic safety provider; it is merely a group of citizen-shareholders paid to give their full-time attention to that which is the proper right, responsibility, and duty of the citizen-shareholdership both as individual sophonts and as a whole.”

– Tanith Liuvis, founder of the Watch Constabulary

Trope-a-Day: Hunter of His Own Kind

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Hunter of His Own Kind: Marginally fulfilled by those members of the ISS Internal Security and Surveillance Directorate, and Fifth Directorate, who deal with the Empire’s little Renegade problem.  The downside, as it is occasionally pointed out, of the whole immortal billionaire genius demigod thing, is that when one of those lads first renounces the Contract and Charter, and then goes bad, they can do so on truly impressive Evil Overlord-esque scales.

And then someone has to clean up the mess.

Trope-a-Day: Humans Are Ugly

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Humans Are Ugly: Extending this trope to interspecies relations in general, it is usually averted because the species in question are just too far from each other; by and large we, for example, don’t find earth’s “alien” species – trees, flying fish, pythons, trilobites – ugly, per se, because we’re too far from them for our standards of people-beauty to apply.

This, of course, may yet be played out in full if the eldrae meet we humans, because as near-eldrae (or near-humans, depending on how you look at it) we’re close enough to maybe fall headlong into each others’ Uncanny Valley.  If we’re lucky – if not, we might end up looking at something uncomfortably close-appearing to The Fair Folk meets Hideous Parodies of the True Form (phrased that way around given which species have and haven’t been spending centuries on genemod aesthetic upgrading at this point).  (See also, literarily, Man Is An Orc To Man.)

tl;dr It’s better to be completely unrelated.

Trope-a-Day: Humans Are Diplomats

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Humans Are Diplomats: There not being humans, well, no, but since there is greenlife, the diplomatic hat is worn by one of Earth’s species.  Well, sort of – diplomacy and community-building is the hat of the dar-bandal, the uplifted dogs, who bring their talents for social cognition to this field much as they do to professional negotiation, arbitrage, community genesis, fixing, and path-pointing.