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He’d never been a stage magician, never wore a velvet blazer or tried to hustle tourists on a crowded boardwalk. The mentalist’s gifts ran deeper, refusing to sit in the shallow pool of parlor tricks or peddled hypnosis. Sure, he could read…
I needed space to think. Even with most people burrowed away in Ultrahigh, the world was still a cage. I went for a walk in nature, though where and when I lived, nothing about that was simple. Past my house, past my car, through the city’s…
Maybe you thought Hermeticism was all dusty books, incense, and solitary meditations—the slow grind of mental discipline, centuries-old formulas, words scratched into leather-bound codices by candlelight. A two-speed existence: either you sat…
The office is dark except for the glow of the monitor and the blue haze of dawn pressing against the blinds. You sit at the desk, hands tented, watching your own breath fog the cold air—each inhale and exhale a metronome for the mind. The world…
You could see it in the way people clung to their groups, their tribe, like that was all that kept them from falling apart or fading away. The far right really got this, even if they’d never say that out loud. It was like they dangled these…
I lit another joint, sinking into the couch as conflicting thoughts spun in my head. I took a long, measured drag, then passed it to Satan, my hand trembling slightly, before snatching the bottle of wine and pouring two glasses with a flourish that…
When we talk about cyberpunk today, it’s hard not to feel like the genre is a fossil—its bones set in the 1980s, all neon-lit rain and chrome, body mods and jaded hackers, megacities drowning in smog and corporate logos. The tropes are so familiar…
“What is the point of working here if we can’t do anything?”
“James, listen.” She paused; the eye above needed misdirection. Her hand found his knee, fingers tracing small circles. He froze. Was a banked fantasy in play? If Tom from accounts walked…
“James, listen.” She paused; the eye above needed misdirection. Her hand found his knee, fingers tracing small circles. He froze. Was a banked fantasy in play? If Tom from accounts walked…
Let me take a moment to clarify my intent with this project. My background is rooted in business intelligence and operational analysis, with over twenty years invested in the world of sales and marketing. Most of my hands-on experience has been in…
Look, I’ll tell you straight: Mentalism, whether you’re talking the carnival show stuff or the deep-diving, consciousness-expanding esoteric journey, is a goddamn goldmine for a writer of speculative fiction and cyberpunk. Not that you’d need anyone…
I lit up a joint and slipped outside into the night, seeking a little relief from the tangled noise in my skull. The devil’s words—too convincing by half, always contaminated with their logic, always twisting until I couldn’t tell whose thoughts I…
Are we living in a dystopia? Maybe it’s not quite that, not yet, but the line is thin enough to slip through, and I’d say we’ve already stepped into the first act of a cyberpunk era. If you’re not convinced, I’d suggest you actually read more…
The Regulation of Big Tech’s Incentive Structures and the Race for AI Superintelligence (ASI)
Let’s stop pretending we’re not all breathing it in. The “cognitive atmosphere”—you know, the one thick with algorithmic micro-dosages of dopamine,…
Let’s stop pretending we’re not all breathing it in. The “cognitive atmosphere”—you know, the one thick with algorithmic micro-dosages of dopamine,…
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Writer and creator of Sleepless Dystopian
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I like to write and create stories, speculative fiction and non fiction.
This is a free social community for writers, creators and those looking for an escape from the attention seeking algorithms.
Comments
He wasn't just code, was he?Â
taken up, deletedÂ
replaced with machinesÂ
they all saw it coming
and didn't even look the other way
just another dayÂ