Oh darn, it’s raining again. And—gasp—the weather app says it’s going to rain all day!
No choice but to brew a pot of coffee, pile some dried figs into a bowl, and stay in bed reading books all day. 🙄
At some nondeterministic point, I will translate the coffee pot into a wine bottle.
Today’s read is @mjohnharrison ‘s Nova Swing.
Its predecessor, Light, gently gutted me a few years ago. I had come to identify with aspects of the furious intelligence, Seria Mau, once human, now a space ship, who is cut free from her physical form in the final pages.
“In the micro-cameras she saw herself for the first time in fifteen years. She was this small, broken, yellowish thing, its limbs all at odd angles, curling and uncurling itself feebly against the pain of the open air.”
At that exact moment in my life, this was a #trans allegory, and the resolution had me sobbing quietly in the dark.
@nicole You probably noticed, as I just did, the mention of "transsexual brothels" as Saudade local color.
You have to wonder, in this world of cultivars where body modification is a matter of course, what would transsexuality as such even look like? And would it still carry anything like the erotic charge it does in our world? I have suspicions!
@pauline Also, but tangential: every so often, you’ll stumble across a self-identifying transhumanist (often a billionaire, or billionaire-aspiring) who is simultaneously and vocally anti-trans, and you just have to giggle. 🤭
You want a hot swappable brain, but your transport is only ever going to have two legs and an outie?
Now _that’s_ a failure of imagination.🙄
