Over the falls

The cockroach, like all creatures, is a miracle of evolution and adaptation. It's unique segmented body design, and it's hardiness and durability are legendary among popular parlance. It can survive in the most trying circumstances, subsist on almost nothing and thrive on on the most meagre fare. But there is one thing that it hasn't yet adapted to - a perfectly flat, even surface. Such a thing has not existed for the vast majority of the cockroaches millions of ancestors, and the modern day cockroach is now frequently found adventuring across such surfaces, in the corners of bathrooms and under microwave ovens all over the world. The problem with flat, even surfaces only becomes apparent to the cockroach when it is unfortunate enough to capsize, and land on it's back. Its method for righting itself is to wave it's legs and antennae wildly, in an effort to grab a hold of the leaf litter, sticks or grass of its habitat, and using the unevenness of the ground, get e...

So, I’m Momo. What? Why’s it say “So, I’m Momo?” What? What are you doing Dad? (laughs) Dad, just go back, back, back back. Delete, Delete – Dad! – You’re not meant to be writing this, Dad. Dad! Dad!! Back –uh – Do back! (frowns) (looks sad, but says nothing) Why don’t you just delete all that? And THEN we can do the story – if you delete it all. Make all the letters go away! Why not Dad? You’re just doing random stuff. This isn’t the story.

I found myself, standing in the entrance to a massive building, being guided by an unknown force that was far too big for me to resist or even to question. As we herded into the alcove, I could see up ahead, an ascending escalator with people riding smoothly up one side, and down the other. Suspended in mid air above the escalator, were 10 different coloured gaseous squares, like a series of lasers swirling through a mist, all at head height. I watched as people boarded the escalator, and rose up, their heads each passing through these strange coloured zones. Semi-reluctantly, I boarded the escalator, aware of the endless jostling queue behind and in front of me. Easing my way up to the first zone, I felt it pass smoothly over my face. It felt strange, though not unpleasant - like that fuzziness that you feel when you wake too early in the morning. I moved out of the zone, leaving the feeling behind. As I continued the ride up to the top, passing through each of the different coloured ...

Squatting down on the cement pathway, huddled amidst the short shadows of the passers-by, is a small child. As people stir past him, ambling on their daily chores, he watches them pass intently. Periodically, he stiffens his back, puffs out his chest, and yells. “MANSPRAY!” The locals ignore him easily, continuing their amiable conversations as they proceed. Most are wearing bilims around their heads or shoulders. A woman carries a small baby nestled in her woven string bag – others are full of lime pots, food and cigarettes. The sidewalk is a deep rusty orange, the colour of the Beetelnut tainted streams of spit that spurt unexpectedly from the mouths of those who crowd into it. The oppressive humidity seems to lift a little in the middle of the day, to be replaced by the blazing heat of the sun. “MANSPRAY!” I have always had trouble intentionally ignoring people. I have a kind of universal respect for every human, which seems to include at a minimum that I will genuinely listen to a...

The late morning sun lights up the slats of the wooden blinds, casting striped shadows across the floor of the room. The winter solstice just passed, and the wind behind the pane of glass shuffles the trees slightly, as if trying to find a more comfortable position to settle down in for the coming day. Seated cross legged on the bed, typing these words into a computer, is Gordon Taylor. He yawns, stretches his toes and removes the blue hood from his head. What kind of a story is he planning to tell you? In truth, he doesn't know himself. He is inspired to begin writing only because he loves the way words sound when they are describing things, the way they can conjure a picture of reality using the abstract constructions of letters and phrases. In truth, such a notion is not the best reason to begin to write. The best reason to write is to share a tale, to amaze, affront, astound and challenge the reader (that's you). Gordon would dearly like to be able to construct such a tale...

Dark Galaxy was a web based strategy game that in early 2002 became a huge time sink at the software company I was working for. I can't actually remember the point of it, or how the whole thing worked. But while shuffling through some old files, I stumbled upon this story that I had written about it. Tosh re-lit the lantern as the rest of the workers filed into the small portable kitchen. “Another turn’s work completed” “Yeah- I reckon that harvest should keep ‘em going for a while” Tosh was tired. Tired of farming. The genetically enhanced super food crops would soon be ready for more harvesting in another turn – then what? Off they’d go again… More harvesting, more carrying, more trudging through dirt. The food would be loaded onto the giant robocarrier that would take it off to the holding cache. I hope those folk in the colony appreciate what we do for them, Tosh thought, distastefully. The lantern cast eerie shadows on the scraggly beards of the workers as they took off th...

This post is in honour of my father's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I couldn't be there in person this year, but I was there in spirit. And as one of those solemn and awkward blonde kids, I hope this story will give you some insight into how much that day meant to me, as well as to you both. Herb and Ailsa swam towards their summer cove, for what seemed to Herb like the thousandth time. The morning sky was a pale grey as Herb idly broached the surface, taking a quick breath before returning to his spouse. "I still think we should have stayed home. The water isn't any warmer here." "Yes, Dear", Ailsa said, almost automatically. "And you know, Hank was going to take us out to visit that new wreck he found. I wanted to see that..." "I know Dear. It will still be there when we return, I'm sure" Herb opened his beak as if he was about to speak, and then thought the better of it. They swam on together in silence. The summer cove ha...

In a crowded hotel room, hastily assembled, the desks arranged in a U shape. Business people are seated sedately, all wearing collared shirts, some with ties, listening to a discussion about the grant funding capacity of the Australan Government in Papua New Guinea, and the benefits to the state of Queensland. Lame jokes elicit predictable polite courtesy laughter. The Queensland Treasurer, a young politician looks bored and fidgets idly with his pen. It's not surprising. The topic bores us all, and I am forced to write down what I see in order to give the appearance that I am taking notes. I look up and nod periodically, as if to say "Yes, that's a good point" or occasionally with a furrowed brow - "I don't know about that..." Nobody notices. Secretly, everyone's mind is wandering. The Asian gentleman to my right is fighting sleep- his eyelids conspiring against his desire to be seen to do the right thing in this artificial social envionment. "...

Apparently web based social services need to be named after animal noises. We have Twitter and now Buzz, so that's the birds and the bees covered. Hopefully Microsoft or Yahoo can get in on the act with something with a bit more grunt - Oink! Or "Moo" perhaps... Seriously though, a few things struck me about Buzz that I wanted to share. Google has, via gmail, been collecting a lot of my social capital. It knows who I talk to most, and presumably at least semantically, what I talk about with whom. In the back of my mind, I was vaguely aware that this was going on, but Google's "don't be evil" mantra kind of reassured me that this data wouldn't be exploited. With the launch of Buzz, it becomes apparent precisely the scope and scale of this profile mining excerise that Gmail has been. As a heavy Gmail user, buzz came pre-configured with all my friends, and had 75 interesting posts from them, at launch. Compare this with Google Wave, which launched with ...