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Conscious Creations: Refined Bits

Three Drunks and a Funeral

A farce in one act A judge, a baker and an anthropologist are sitting in a jazz lounge. The unlikely trio are old college mates, gathered for the sad occasion of their professor’s passing. The funeral had been held the day before, at St. Thomas Episcopal. The men are sipping drinks, languidly discussing the incongruities…

Bee Cause Célèbre

“Catastrophic Colony Collapse Threatens America’s Economy” was the screaming headline that greeted the early morning readers taking tea and scones at Boulangerie on the Boulevard. Ignored by the bourgeoisie and misunderstood by the proletariat, the Wall Street Journal’s front page story nevertheless signaled a shrugging of Atlas unlike anything foreseen by Ayn Rand and her…

Bad Poetry

“The assignment, class, is to deconstruct this computer-generated poem.” Moans greeted this announcement, of course, because Lytton 3000 was as horrible at sonnets as its namesake was at prose. Still, Professor Fenwick could find nothing better to challenge his genetically enhanced students. With all the theatrical flair of Quentin Tarrantino, the Professor lowered the lights…

Swampland

Swan Vee considered her options. The ink was barely dry on the sheepskin before her mentor banished her from Swamp Logos. Her home since birth, the swamp represented the womb of familiarity, the hearth of confidence and the shield against the unknown. Now she was ready to deal with the landscape beyond the Perimeter. She…

Proxy Apocalypse – Molten Hail Reborn

“Let’s invent a new game.” Phineas stretched his mouth into an it’s-a-beautiful-morning wake-up yawn. “Sure.” Ferb, man of few words, scratched himself in pleasurable agreement. “I’m looking for inspiration. Say! This ancient desktop computer gives me an idea ….” Phineas opened the rusty metal casing to reveal dust balls and wires. “Eh, never mind.” As…

Ancient Sunday

The exploit was crude, but effective. Molten Hail—aptly named—melted through firewalls before freezing servers. The only survivors were hardened servers specifically designed to test every byte passing through their ports. It was one of these computers that Jeremy was analyzing when Bertha walked into the lab. “Hi, Jer. What do we have?” “Hell if I…

Alienation

Martians had no concept of prejudice. Their brains were wired like lobotomized slugs: each experience was new. Yet, their transcendent race had accumulated the wisdom to recognize xenophobia as it applied to them. I blanched at the unusual combination of smell and terror-inducing hisses emanating from my tour guide. “Plack manu frobbish, Gia?” What are…

Galactic Chess Champion Slain

The checkmate was flawless. The bloody aftermath was more of a mess. Raven Spassky’s body lay in a puddle of its own fluids, most of which had leaked from multiple holes in her flimsy aluminum armor. Whoever had said plasma was a source of clean energy had never fired a shot in anger. I’m glad…

Toiling in Obscurity

The beauty of being invisible is that nobody sees your metamorphosis. A certain amount of freedom accompanies anonymity—dancing like nobody's watching kind of thing.

This blog / web presence called Morpho Designs goes through changes in layout, content and purpose. It evolves with my focus. To some of you, this will be jarring. To which I say, "Thanks for being a long-time reader!"

For most others, however, there is no context for the changes except, perhaps, for the detritus left-over from the most recent change. (Shame on you, Visual Composer!)

At any rate, welcome to the most recent incarnation. I have only the most rudimentary vision of the final layout, content and purpose. Since I'm invisible, I won't sweat it.

But, if you can see me, I hope you enjoy the view.

Conscious Creation: The Messy Bits

I send out occasional issues to celebrate epiphanies, observations of little consequence and wild figments of imagination.