My muse is a bitch. Because, see, despite all the fun being had in Fenspace... she is not content.
Oh, no.
See, it starts with my picking up S.M. Stirling's The Protector's War a week or two ago. There are things about that book's premise (Namely that, one fine day ten years ago, The Machines All Stopped) that bother me quite a bit. Not neccessarily his evaluation of the consequences as a whole (that being, ninety-mumble percent of the human race starves to death or worse) - I don't think it's the most likely result, but it's plausible enough to accept for the sake of the story - so much as his apparent conviction that mass starvation = mass cannabalism = total social breakdown into animalism for anyone and everyone caught in a city, regardless of other factors.
No, I have not read the prequel dealing with the actual change and its consequences. No, nothing will ever convince me to do so.
So, where this dissatisfaction led, for me, was wondering if there was another way of getting that same situation - IE, modern people building new nations with medieval tech, and...
Well.
It starts when Sufficiently Advanced Space Aliens show up in orbit and say, "Hi. We're your new gods. Now that you're set on the right path in our worship, you're going to have to throw away everything you've got that involves electrical current or turning combustion into mechanical work, for they are blasphemous in our eyes. You can have a year or two to convert, since we know there'd be a lot of people starving otherwise."
And the nations and people of Earth say something quite polite that boils down to, "Nothin' doin'."
And the Gods say, "Do this or risk our terrible wrath," and zap some insignificant and mostly depopulated cultural landmarks into smoking craters.
And the nations and people of Earth say, "Go fuck yourselves."
And the Gods oblitherate every speck of military power they can find and say, "You don't really have a choice about this."
And Earth sez, "Go fuck yourselves sideways."
And the Gods say, "If you keep being foolish, we're shortly going to forget about how tolerant we'd meant to be of those who don't know better."
Then they glass a random selection of major world cities.
And the UN Security Council put their cards on the table in private session and admit that - at best - they're years from being able to do anything about these assholes.
So they say okay. And hide their research projects real good.
And then, since they've been troublesome, the Gods dissolve all these absurd 'Republic' delusions and draw up new borders, mostly along geographical lines, and grab people out of the populace and say, "Here. You're King in these parts. Throw away everything your people had before we came and build something that's not indecent."
So.
Here. You're King in these parts.
Where are you? And what do you do?
Ja, -n
===============================================
"Puripuri puripuri... Bang!"
Oh, no.
See, it starts with my picking up S.M. Stirling's The Protector's War a week or two ago. There are things about that book's premise (Namely that, one fine day ten years ago, The Machines All Stopped) that bother me quite a bit. Not neccessarily his evaluation of the consequences as a whole (that being, ninety-mumble percent of the human race starves to death or worse) - I don't think it's the most likely result, but it's plausible enough to accept for the sake of the story - so much as his apparent conviction that mass starvation = mass cannabalism = total social breakdown into animalism for anyone and everyone caught in a city, regardless of other factors.
No, I have not read the prequel dealing with the actual change and its consequences. No, nothing will ever convince me to do so.
So, where this dissatisfaction led, for me, was wondering if there was another way of getting that same situation - IE, modern people building new nations with medieval tech, and...
Well.
It starts when Sufficiently Advanced Space Aliens show up in orbit and say, "Hi. We're your new gods. Now that you're set on the right path in our worship, you're going to have to throw away everything you've got that involves electrical current or turning combustion into mechanical work, for they are blasphemous in our eyes. You can have a year or two to convert, since we know there'd be a lot of people starving otherwise."
And the nations and people of Earth say something quite polite that boils down to, "Nothin' doin'."
And the Gods say, "Do this or risk our terrible wrath," and zap some insignificant and mostly depopulated cultural landmarks into smoking craters.
And the nations and people of Earth say, "Go fuck yourselves."
And the Gods oblitherate every speck of military power they can find and say, "You don't really have a choice about this."
And Earth sez, "Go fuck yourselves sideways."
And the Gods say, "If you keep being foolish, we're shortly going to forget about how tolerant we'd meant to be of those who don't know better."
Then they glass a random selection of major world cities.
And the UN Security Council put their cards on the table in private session and admit that - at best - they're years from being able to do anything about these assholes.
So they say okay. And hide their research projects real good.
And then, since they've been troublesome, the Gods dissolve all these absurd 'Republic' delusions and draw up new borders, mostly along geographical lines, and grab people out of the populace and say, "Here. You're King in these parts. Throw away everything your people had before we came and build something that's not indecent."
So.
Here. You're King in these parts.
Where are you? And what do you do?
Ja, -n
===============================================
"Puripuri puripuri... Bang!"