I'm still here, I promise

Submitted by C B Wright on

This week I am trying to finish moving all our stuff out of our old house before our lease expires. It's going to be quite the race. This weekend I managed to get impressively sick, apparently as a result of drinking a cup of day-old coffee. This week will be hectic and expensive and I'm not looking forward to it at all.

Site Maintenance Tomorrow (Update: Complete)

Submitted by C B Wright on

UPDATE: Looks like we made it through!

Unless I have my dates hopelessly mixed up, eviscerati.org will go offline at some point tomorrow as prgmr.com does some important infrastructure engineering. Assuming everything goes well, the site will come back up on its own, but "everything goes well" requires that I have everything configured properly on my end, so roll d100.

If everything does NOT go well I won't be able to do anything about it till tomorrow night at the earliest, and really probably not till the weekend. So let's hope I have configured everything properly!

Brief note on the new job

Submitted by C B Wright on

So I started my new job on Monday. It's fine, but it comes with a few challenges. The biggest is that it's in Georgia and I'm in Montgomery, AL. So I've switched up from working out of a home office to commuting to work every day.

Here's the math for that:

Work starts at eight, it's an hour and a half drive, add an extra half hour for getting lost (like I did this morning). So: leave the house at six. So: get up at five.

BUT WAIT WE'RE NOT DONE.

Echoes and Consequences: Part Five

Submitted by C B Wright on
Elsewhere, Again

Only a tiny sliver of light remains in the sky—the last vestige of sun seeping in through a tiny crack at the very edge of the horizon—and the shadow cast across David’s dreamscape is so deep it almost has weight. Something is pressing down, all around him, and he’s sure it’s more than the wind.

David tries once again to change the nature of the dream. He stares up at the ever-darkening sky, then holds out his hand, palm up, trying to imagine a tiny ball of light.

Such a small thing. Such a simple, small thing. I should be able to do this.

Nothing.

Echoes and Consequences: Part Four

Submitted by C B Wright on
Haruspex Analytics, Top Floor

The board room is designed to be subtly unsettling. It’s large and windowless, it appears to be circular, with a long table running up the middle of the room. Appearances are deceiving: it’s actually a slight oval, and the table is set slightly off kilter from the oval. People who don’t know the trick feel ever-increasing levels of anxiety as they subconsciously realize something is off but can’t identify what. Jason figured out the trick, so the room doesn’t put him off the way it did, once.

The Chairman, however… that’s a different story altogether.

The Chairman sits at the far end of the table, his features concealed in darkness. He stares down at a mission brief—Jason’s—and reads in silence. Jason stands at the other end of the table, not daring to sit, and waits patiently for him to finish.

As always, Jason finds himself trying to catch a glimpse of the older man’s face. As always, he fails. All he sees beyond the thick head of silver hair styled in a classic executive haircut is one furrow at the top of the man’s forehead, and then his face is cloaked in shadow. Jason wonders yet again at how the lighting in the room is arranged in order to achieve that effect. There are no obvious customizations to the room lighting that he can see.

Maybe it’s not the room. Maybe it’s him.

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