Writer đ Sui Generis (English Edition) https://nitter.gq/t.co/jpESYqEhIC (Amazon) https://nitter.gq/t.co/hjztmj4b7g (Play Books)
Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Joined May 2010
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AlexB retweeted
âA man on a thousand-mile walk has to forget his ultimate goal and say to himself every morning, âToday I'm going to cover twenty-five miles and then rest up and sleep.â
â Leo Tolstoy
AlexB retweeted
Fyodor Dostoevsky once stood before a firing squad.
He had been arrested for reading banned books and discussing forbidden ideas. At twenty-eight, he was blindfolded, tied, and told to prepare for death. He later said those final minutes stretched into an eternity⌠every sound sharper, every thought purified.
At the last moment, a messenger arrived. The execution was a ruse. His sentence was commuted to hard labor in Siberia.
He spent four years in a frozen prison camp among murderers and thieves. Chains on his legs. Disease in his body. Scripture was the only book allowed. The Gospels became his lifeline.
He emerged with one conviction burned into him: that man is fallen, suffering is real, and redemption is possible only through love freely chosen.
From that came Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, and The Brothers Karamazov⌠novels that stare straight at evil and refuse to look away, yet insist that even the worst soul can be saved.
AlexB retweeted
Sleep came in fragments, haunted by dreams of ascent. In them, he climbed not with ropes or jets, but with hands that bled into the stone, merging flesh with regolith until he became the slope itselfâeternal, eroded, empty. He woke to an alert: proximity warning. His suit's external cam showed nothing but dust devils pirouetting in the rover's beams. Paranoia, he logged. Solitude's tax. But as he suited up for the morning traverse, the wind carried a new noteâa low moan, resonant, like the mountain exhaling.
AlexB retweeted
The event horizon loomed on the viewscreen, a perfect circle of absence framed by warped starlight. Calyptraâs accretion disk blazed, a ring of molten gold and crimson, its radiation held at bay by the Eidolonâs shields. âSpaghettification risk minimal,â Lin reported, her voice tight. âThe drive should stabilize our descent.â
AlexB retweeted
One by one, we were deposited onto the Lawn, a place that bore a faint resemblance to the Facility above ground. Its design was sleekâsmooth, minimalistic, and ruthlessly efficientâequipped to meet every need a walker might have. Each of us received the essentials: equipment, instructions, and a parting wish of good luck. A strict directive followedâunder no circumstances were we to tamper with UniSimâs parameters. Even a minor adjustment risked unraveling the fragile equilibrium of this already precarious environment. No new objects or locations could be introduced. Even the weather, we were warned, must remain untouched.
AlexB retweeted
The wall in my apartment was a fractured testament to endurance, its surface webbed with cracks like the streets of the city I once called home. It was a mosaic of decayâcrumbling edges, shallow dents, and fissures that seemed to whisper of collapse. Yet, somehow, it stood. So did my city, and so did its people, teetering on the edge of ruin but refusing to fall. I often wondered how it all held together, how the collective sanity didnât splinter under the weight of such a fractured existence. How could anyone still call this chaos normal?
AlexB retweeted
The buildings loomed closer now, their facades a patchwork of shattered windows and peeling paint, some still bearing the faded logos of corporations long since absorbed by the Net. xSynchro. NeuraCore. Names that once meant power, now just ghosts in the machine. The deeper I went, the more the world felt alive in its decayâvines snaked up walls, their leaves glistening wet, while small, skittering creatures darted through the shadows, their eyes glinting like tiny stars. Life, unplugged and feral, thriving where the Net couldnât reach.
AlexB retweeted
Wandering through the misty, sunlit woods, I traverse fields and cross bridges over shallow waters where ancient fragments of sculptures lie scattered. Here, shattered heads of gods and deities rest, embodying both sacred benevolence and malevolent divinity in their silent repose.
