Mission Statement

To create a calendar system, grounded in pure mathematics and astronomy, of which can be dynamically applied to any stellar-planetary combination and in addition be applicable sans-star.

So about last year

Don't read anything below this line.


...


Though the WipEout posts are fine, you don't have to read those. :3

Winter

Bonus Content: Music that inspired, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOgDzgqQ93I

Claire weaves herself through a thick forest, cradling DC in her arms. Her casing showing signs of severe physical damage, as every step she takes causes a piece to pop out of its attachment. The woods finally begin to thin, with the falling snow now becoming noticeable. She glances at the back of her hand, a red display showing that her internal temperature is reaching critical levels. Her internals make audible clicks, as her power supply arcs. As cold as it is, it doesn’t seem to be doing her temperature any good.

She reaches a giant glade, with an enormous complex adorning the center. She decides to run towards it to at least get a chance to rest. The closer she gets, the more the complex begins to resemble a sort of abandoned temple, or maybe even a home. Reaching the outer wall of the building DC begins to stir a bit from his unconscious state. Claire puts him down, seating him against the wall. His eyes blink open as he looks around. “What... Where, “his eyes focus to Claires, her solid blue eyes giving a soft glow. “Claire? Wait, what are you doi-, where are we—“ A dark figure emerges from the forest, running up to meet with the pair; the figures face wearing a grin that only comes from a predator enjoying his hunt.

“Brother! I see that your ingenuity knows no bounds!” 

A cold sterile feeling shots up DC’s spine. As if by instinct DC tries to stand up into a defensive stance. “Ah!!” Letting out a scream he falls back down limp. “Don’t move” Claire says as she attempts to comfort DC. DC’s shock now becoming replaced with the realization that his body is completely inoperable; his muscles are shot and by the severity of the pain it seems their ligaments have been completely torn.

“My apologies brother, your little toy seems to have delayed the inevitable.”

Claire turns around in response, putting up an offensive stance as she faces the figure. The figure stops a few meters away from them, as he stands proud.

“And it seems as if this little computer of yours still has some fight left. Tell me, how long ago was she built? You were housed for quite a long time you know.”

“Claire, don’t. Just keep running. I can deal with him.” DC tells Claire, unsuccessfully hiding the tone of pain from his voice.

“Giving her the illusion of consciousness are you? I never figured you’d be one to partake in cruelty as well. I understand the envy you must have of me but there is no reason to force such expectations on another. Especially an expectation so out of reach to a machine.”

The figures words cutting through the snow, as DC and Claire remained still in silence.
“So Claire was it? Do you really think you can gap the advancement of technology? I not only house your decrepit creator’s ego, but they were nice enough to not waste such a consciousness into a sack of meat. And believe me they spared no expense as you can see by the state I left him. This androids body strength is only matched by my own will.”

A low click sounded inside Claire’s casing. Claire began to step forward towards the figure. DC’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing the sound. He realized the figure wasn’t bluffing about Claire’s antiqueness. Claire’s already used up all the power she can naturally withstand. The run she made and up to this point have all been done exceeding the power she can handle. As Claire closed the gap between her and the figure, the glow of her casing grew more defined as light began to leak out of the cracks, as well as the noise emanating from her back climbing to a roar.

With a particular smugness, the figure spoke directly to Claire. “Cute. Following your logic regardless of the reality you’re in.” He turned his gaze to DC “It’s these types of actions one influences with those lies brother!”

Without hesitation Claire’s pace continued, her glow now reaching the trees off in the distance. Her casing begins to crack at the seams, as electricity attempts to escape its confines. DC screams “Claire what are you doing!? You can’t draw any more power! You won---“

As her next step lands on the ground her body lets out a blinding flash. Her outer casing fractures into pieces and are ejected outward into the distance, revealing the skeletal framework underneath. Her silver frame exuding ropes of electricity, creating a shine that is practically blinding. The arcs project off her silver framework, whipping the ground with such force that they inflict deep scars into the ground. She stops her movement as the electrical charges continue radiate off her body in wide arcs. She stands exposed, her inner components being held by netting attached to the frame. Her eyes cast a powerful blue glow to whatever she stares at. The giant copper flower fan that adorns her back producing a flurry with the falling snow as the sound it produces reach jet engine decibel levels. The electrical surges finally begin to subside to intermittent spark. Even then, they still seem to give a loud crackle every time one escapes.

As the figure shields himself with his arms from the energy, DC sits shocked at the spectacle; bathed in a white blue glow. “Claire! Why!?”

Her head turns around to meet with DC’s eyes. Her head now only being a hollow rough frame shaped resembling that of a human; the frame only being adorned by her solid colored eyes.

“Because I choose to.”

Before DC could react Claire’s right hand is already gripping the figure by his neck and suspending him off his feet.

With a forced grunt the figure continues to mock Claire. “Tsk, just because you overclocked yourself doesn’t me-“ The metal rods composing her hand close around his neck, cutting through the outer flesh with such pressure that blood simply streams out in a single shot. Her fingers stop short of crushing his neck, being blocked by a metallic layer.

“Achk… Heh, looks like you still don’t have enough strength.” Before he could contort his mouth back to a grin, Claire’s body gave a final high pitch whir and her hands crushed through the metal neck. As the figures head severed from his neck, she and the figure became engulfed in an enormous electrical explosion. The force of the explosion knocked DCs head back into the wall, knocking him out. His body sat motionless, with a seated view of the remaining shards of Claire’s casing and the soft snow beginning to layer the field and covering the electrical wounds that were inflicted into it.

WipEout Photography XXXIV

How's this for an anti-climatic ending. The last picture I have taken. I hope you enjoyed the pictures as much as I had making them. :3

Time to look for something else make a weekly update with. Stay tuned for maximum efficiency.

Night 213

[I think this is my 5th or 6th short story. It's rather emo/dark/melo-dramatic. So don't say I didn't warn you]

Night 213

 There have been countless cycles since I’ve found myself in this void, and despite my progress the light above me has only grown by a sliver.  The days have seemed to grow longer at the very least, hinting that these walls aren’t endless.  It gives me hope that I can exit this void. I can barely remember being thrown into the pits of my own mind. If it were not for this experience I would’ve never known such darkness existed, let alone was stored.  It has grown to manifest egos of its own; dark beings that mirror the discarded and suppressed emotions long forgotten. Such concentration amplifies them.  The pure feelings these beings can dispense can rival even the most potent of drugs. Pride, honor, morality: these buckle on top of the weight that is the repressed human emotion. Their ego forms just sharpen an already deadly tool. I’ve come to know these forms well. I was not prepared when I first encountered them and they dissolved my ego, making me nothing more than another wave in its black ocean.

That time was such a blur, that I barely remember how I was able to find the pieces they ripped from my own ego. I only remember the voices of my muses, reminding me that my self still existed. The voids’ hold on me has weakened since the day I finally managed to grip the sides of this cavern. An achievement that I cannot fully claim as my own, I am eternally grateful to the muses that guided me.  Even after being engulfed in such darkness, they offer respite in my climbs. The volatile darkness does not let go so easily. Even as my hands begin to callous over these rocky walls, they continue to attempt to reach me. It wishes only to drag me back down and assimilate me into their world.

A world knowing only misery and despair, a world my mind helped create. It is as much a part of me as the current form I managed to rescue. My muses have helped me stave them off, help me remember and define my ego. Without this distinction I will see no difference between me and that black abyss that constantly preys for me. I cannot afford to lose myself again.

I’ve managed to keep a steady pace since then, and the shadows power seems to be weakening. I’ve not had to fend them off for a few nights now. A fact that I take gingerly, as it has drained me of much needed energy.  These quiet nights are bittersweet; I am fully aware why they wait. My last brief quarrel left me rather quaint lacerations to my back which does not allow me to recover my energy. I am only hoping to reach an alcove in these walls to take a rest and allow time to tend to these wounds.  A hope that is fading as quickly as the light is in this void.

My right hand grasps tightly to the rock protruding above me. My left hand falls limp. This is as far as I can go. My legs feel weak beneath me, barely being able to stay strong atop their footholds. I can feel my energy drip down my back. I can equally feel the dark below feeding from this energy. I have no choice, I must rest here. I’ve run out of energy, I’ve run out of reason. I can feel the bottom beckoning me and it begins to drive me delirious. It approaches. I begin to accept the loss of my progress. The shadows are darting upwards. I start to think of the difficulty of what I must continue to endure. Their egos begin to take their own twisted shape. I can only think of taking a rest. The poison darts to my being.

My left hand forms a fist over a nail and drives the nail through my hand; impaling my hand and burying it deep into the rock. The pain I would feel is quickly washed over by a wave of emotion. I am no longer progressing towards my own exit; I am back at the bottom. The shadows have engulfed me. I am swimming alongside these torturous emotions. I would not fall back down to them so they brought themselves to me. As if with glee they ravage my ego. Self-consciousness, self-worth, these are not for me. They begin to strip me apart, revealing the self I have built since they last engulfed me. 

They take to it with the ferocity of a storm on a leaf. I can feel them begin to play my emotions like strings. They begin attaching ivory keys to the end of these feelings of doubt, fear, hatred, jealousy, inadequacy, suspicion; making me nothing more than an instrument to my own scathing emotions. They begin to play the keys indiscriminately, later slowly joining together in the festivous tones of suffering. As they grow to form a dark entity they begin to play chords, harmonizing these piercing emotions. A symphony composed of emotional pain, mixing the tones of paranoia and rejection, flowing into self-hatred and creating progressions of guilt. Such orchestrations are what night terrors are filled with.

The shadow now becomes a silhouette, a dark mirrored image of me. I am losing myself again, harmonizing with the darkness. It begins to play its final ballad to bring me to its frequency. It seeks to become me. No longer satisfied with making me lost forever at the bottom of my own minds darkness, it wishes to live as darkness. To escape, taking my life and live it in desolation. We begin to share its destiny; I can feel it start playing on its own strings, on our own strings. It has become a copy of my self. And it suddenly reels in horror.

As it joins my mind it finally feels the pain. I have repaid the gratitude it showed me those nights ago. Without my being it cannot be wounded, living in an ethereal ‘mental’ state. Now it realizes the true nature of that sharp knife I am currently burying into the back of our right shoulder. The darkness surrounding us dissipates, and we are back in the cavern. His newly shelled body slowing losing its grasp to the wall, and I swallow the intense physical pain. With the last of my will I make a sharp twist in my shoulder and our right hand loses hold of the wall. I feel his essence withdrawal and fall back to the abyss he came from. The last thing I feel is the dull pain of my hand hanging on the nail skewered through it.

When I come to, dawn is finally greeting my surroundings. As I begin to see myself, I can feel the wounds in my back and shoulder cauterized. These wounds won’t ever truly heal until I reach the surface. Giving myself a moment, I look up hanging by one hand, and notice the top looking particularly brighter than usual.

WipEout Photography XXXIII

Just one more left after this one.

WipEout Photography XXXII