vulturepunk

This is a messy post about death and love.

( content warning: abuse. )

vaguelyautonomous linked us a cool survey Sprites made regarding death and dormancy among plurals: https://docs.google.com/document/u/0/d/1wARJSMVDVYhX1v4WKAdrCbS_f6hIdXvpHNw810gSOhA/mobilebasic

Too bad we didn’t know about it while it was running; death is a large part of our inner workings and we have strong opinions on it. (I am also utterly baffled and deeply annoyed that apparently headmate death is STILL considered impossible or an “endo thing”; I guess they never read When Rabbit Howls. I’m sure I could find earlier medical references if singlet death wasn’t currently devouring my attention.)

Very interesting was to learn we’re apparently in a major minority in that we don’t really experience dormancy! (Except arguably Rawlin? But she was imprisoned in the deep bowels of headspace for years, so it’s not like she was GONE, just we lost track of her. She eventually went into hibernation because what else was there to do in solitary confinement for decades?) We lose access to people from elsewhere, but they aren’t dormant; our metaphorical rail just doesn’t go to their stop anymore and their lives just continue without us.

Rogan: A friend of mine is dead but I’m not ready to talk about that yet, so instead I’m distracting myself with Adam Becker’s More Everything Forever: AI Overlords, Space Empires, and Silicon Valley’s Crusade to Control the Fate of Humanity.

( I’m failing and I miss my dead friend. )