The Berislavich Incident“The situation you find yourself in is as follows: You’re on the road to a vacation that you’ve been planning for over a month. It’s a long drive, though, and you decide to stop for the night about halfway for fear of getting highway hypnosis, as well as not being able to see anything that you need to react evasively to. This problem is further pronounced by the fact that you somehow forgot your much-needed glasses at home. After miles of road and nothing else, you come across a turn to a decrepit-looking hotel. You don’t know how long you would have to drive to get to a better one, so you decide it’s better than nothing. You take the turn.The Berislavich Incident by Idonataur
As you enter the building, you hear a deep voice with a vaguely European accent shout “welcome to The Berislavich!” You turn to the left where the voice came from: a man behind a counter with pale skin, a slight overbite, and a widow’s peak the size of Mount Everest. His ears were slightly pointe
A Temporal MelodyTo whomever may or may not hold this information, my name is Mark Foster, and I have a confession to make, but we’ll get to that in a minute. The reason my name might sound familiar to you is because I’m responsible for writing many of the songs that you’ve probably heard on the radio. One hundred and ten songs, to be exact: my entire Spotify playlist, not that anyone at the time I’m writing this would know what that is. I wrote all those songs within the span of a decade, and they were like nothing that anybody had ever heard, which makes a lot of sense in retrospect. People say I’m some sort of revolutionary musical genius, but they’re all wrong. I’m a fraud. This isn’t going to be easy to believe, but I need it written down somewhere for someone to see. For my conscience’s sake.A Temporal Melody by Idonataur
Just over ten years ago - well, ten years ago for me, anyway - I found a time machine. The circumstances under which I found said machine are irrelevant.
Organosilicon We are Michael Krasilchikov. One of us may be made of organic tissue, and the other from silicone and circuits, but we are both Michael Krasilshikov all the same. Our organic half was born a Gemini and always felt that he, I, needed a twin. By an extremely lucky roll of the causality dice, he, I, landed in the perfect college dorm. Our dorm-mates were Robin, Francis, and Jamie. Robin was working on a thesis about the technicality as well as the practicality of a humanlike A.I., Jamie was working on a self-balancing robotic skeleton, and Francis was working on a lifelike robotic face complete with working eyes. He, I, was working on a thesis on Artificial Intelligence ethics, so he, I, figured that all of us working together would benefit us all in our research. One of his, my, main points to be addressed in the thesis was the difference in behavior between a human intelligence and an artificial one, and who could tell if someone waOrganosilicon by Idonataur
|I am primarily a writer and secondarily a weapon concept artist. I tend to write my personal philosophies, observations, and general opinions, as well as some short stories based on my dreams. I'm totally open to discussion, debate, and criticism. I occasionally doodle original and inspired weapon concepts, and I do accept requests. You are free to use my weapon concepts, but you must first contact me so the terms can be arranged.|