Branches on the Tree of Time


Kyle Reese has traveled backwards in time, not to save Sarah Connor, but to help her rewrite the faulty utility function of Skynet. Together, it's possible that they might avert Judgment Day and save the world from nuclear Armageddon - and hopefully create a utopia ruled over by an AI god in the process. Fully completed. Diverges wildly from canon.

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Outsider


I just started writing a youtube sci-fi series in the rationalist tradition. It's a novel in a video format (once you read it you will understand why I did it as a vidoe). Some here are passionate about human augmentation, so I thought about novel augmentation ;-)

It's just the first episode, but I'd like to share with the community... Hope you like it!

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The Last Christmas


The mantle of Santa Claus has been passed down once again, this time to an industrial engineer who starts to get some dangerous ideas in his head about the true meaning of Christmas. This fic is still being worked on. I finished it with Christmas (2013) as my deadline, but the story suffered for it, so even though it's complete there will probably be a reworking of it later.

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Symbiote

Not published

The Beginning

As soon as I heard my siblings' chemical screams, I turned and tried to run.

We disperse, trying to place as much distance between us and the scent of death, beating our cilia as fast as we could possibly go. But in the chaotic wake of the fleeing crowd I still felt the cyclical thrumming of the Creature's flagella, thrashing the surrounding water with the force of a tumultuous eddy. I feel it shift, change its path, to lock onto our chemical wake.

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Spur

Not published

As the light rain falls softly in the night, pale streetlights reflected in the wet cobblestone street, I wonder what sort of life choices ended up with me at the right end of a gun and my face at the other. Just last week I was at a fundraiser for the Mars project, rubbing shoulders with the very finest of society itself, but now here I am, on the wrong side of the flip, carrying out the contract killing of one version of myself for another.

"So what do I call you?" my other self spat out, "Deckard? Are we still sticking to that name? Or are you a subspur, a Pris, or a Batty?"

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