Sun Nov 23 12:45:54 ART 2008 rinesi.net receives an steady stream of ICMP echo response packets from 190.2.40.81 and notifies the admin about the anomaly.
Sun Nov 23 17:29:33 ART 2008 The rinesi.net admin begins a non-invasive scan of 190.2.40.81.
Sun Nov 23 17:31:35 ART 2008 As part of the scan, an steady stream of ICMP echo request packets is sent to 190.2.40.81.
No response was received.
.finis.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Out of the Valley of Death
From TOKYOMANGO:
You don't know how long you've been climbing the cliff. It's somehow taller than you thought it was, your limbs weaker, your grasp on the rock uncertain. But still you climb. An eternity later, you reach the top and stumble upon the road.
Right in front of an incoming car. You can see the driver's surprised expression, the way instinct makes him swerve the car when reason would had kept it straight. The car stumbles, skips, squids to the border of the cliff... and falls.
You reach the border in time to see it crash into the ground. Minutes later, the driver leaves the car, injured and confused. You try to call to him, but no words come out of your mouth.
Somewhere beyond the man's crashed car you can see now the wreckage of yours, and your body rotting in the driver's seat.
.finis.
Satoru Takeda, a 58-year old unemployed Gifu man, spend three days without food in a valley off of a mountain road after swerving to avoid running over a bunny rabbit. He was injured, and it was cold, and he couldn't get back up the cliff to seek help, so he just stayed in his car until Day 3. When cops finally discovered him, they found another car in the same valley, with a dead guy inside.
You don't know how long you've been climbing the cliff. It's somehow taller than you thought it was, your limbs weaker, your grasp on the rock uncertain. But still you climb. An eternity later, you reach the top and stumble upon the road.
Right in front of an incoming car. You can see the driver's surprised expression, the way instinct makes him swerve the car when reason would had kept it straight. The car stumbles, skips, squids to the border of the cliff... and falls.
You reach the border in time to see it crash into the ground. Minutes later, the driver leaves the car, injured and confused. You try to call to him, but no words come out of your mouth.
Somewhere beyond the man's crashed car you can see now the wreckage of yours, and your body rotting in the driver's seat.
.finis.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Annealing
(Strictly speaking, this is too long to be an Hectowords piece, but, given how long it has been since I've written for this site, I wanted to post it nonetheless.)
I had met her before in the elevator. At least I think so. I can't quite remember meeting twice the same woman; different faces, hair colors, clothing, builds. The only thing familiar was the sense of having met her before, of a regular progression of strangers.
And one day I met a beautiful woman in the elevator, and she bared her teeth at me. It was forever until the doors opened and I could almost-run away. I remember that now.
I didn't then, not when I met her again, not when her mouth spasmed into a rictus I had to avoid with my eyes.
There must have been many times like that. I only remember the one when she smiled at me and it was the most attractive thing I had ever seen. I didn't get out on my floor. She kept smiling, and I followed her hesitant steps to her door.
Everything but her beauty and her smile were wrong. When she entered her dark apartment I could no longer see either of them, and my skin grew cold as I understood, and ran.
"Come," said her spidery voice from behind. I didn't wait for the elevator - I didn't stop until I had crossed and locked my door. No matter what I could half-imagine waiting in the darkness, her voice had been worse.
Now I'm trying to think about something to do.
And I'm realizing that I'm already forgetting, and that the next time her voice will be sweeter, and one day it will work.
.finis.
I had met her before in the elevator. At least I think so. I can't quite remember meeting twice the same woman; different faces, hair colors, clothing, builds. The only thing familiar was the sense of having met her before, of a regular progression of strangers.
And one day I met a beautiful woman in the elevator, and she bared her teeth at me. It was forever until the doors opened and I could almost-run away. I remember that now.
I didn't then, not when I met her again, not when her mouth spasmed into a rictus I had to avoid with my eyes.
There must have been many times like that. I only remember the one when she smiled at me and it was the most attractive thing I had ever seen. I didn't get out on my floor. She kept smiling, and I followed her hesitant steps to her door.
Everything but her beauty and her smile were wrong. When she entered her dark apartment I could no longer see either of them, and my skin grew cold as I understood, and ran.
"Come," said her spidery voice from behind. I didn't wait for the elevator - I didn't stop until I had crossed and locked my door. No matter what I could half-imagine waiting in the darkness, her voice had been worse.
Now I'm trying to think about something to do.
And I'm realizing that I'm already forgetting, and that the next time her voice will be sweeter, and one day it will work.
.finis.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Alternates
There are perhaps paradises where nobody pay heed to the serpent, perfect and changeless under the gaze of a disappointed God.
.finis.
.finis.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
A movement in the war
The conscious mind proved an epiphenomenon, ethics became a branch of applied neurology in the 21st century. The world faced the prospect of a working "goodness patch", and recoiled in mutual mistrust. Who would be the first to apply it to their children, not knowing if the other would do the same?
And so the technology slept unapplied in papers and files, and nothing whatsoever changed, save that a new threat had been added to the arsenal.
.finis.
And so the technology slept unapplied in papers and files, and nothing whatsoever changed, save that a new threat had been added to the arsenal.
.finis.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Of mirrors for tigers
The outer eyes of the inner ones?, asked the gods. But it was a dance; Jorge Luis' choice was already implicit in the shape of his days.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Crime and Punishment
He said we shouldn't hoard the secret of fusion energy, that it wasn't for us to play gods. So he stole the technology and gave it away.
His choice, not ours. But we are also very good at organ regeneration, and it's amazing how lifelike a robot crow can be made.
.finis.
His choice, not ours. But we are also very good at organ regeneration, and it's amazing how lifelike a robot crow can be made.
.finis.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
