An Exchange

Erewhon was a far cry from the docks where Olee had spent most of his life struggling with his family.

"Is it true what they say, sir?  'Bout the grammar?" he had asked so eagerly of Manni when first told that they would be traveling there for an acquisition.

"Hm?  Ah, the legendary ostentation of Erewhon."  The glyph pirate had tugged at his beard and smiled mischievously.  "The fabled city is drenched in grammar," was all he would say on the matter when pressed.

The Naturalist

The roar and hiss of the devices was utterly overwhelming, literally deafening.  Naturalist Nullwrit Fesciola hadn't been able to hear it for some time, but she still felt the rumble in her bones whenever she or one of her helpers fired them up again.  Her assistant wore heavily padded muffs over his ears, standing at the control wheels of the finicky setup.  Fesciola flagged his attention and with deft, slender fingers signed, FLYWHEELS  1 3 DISENGAGE BUT AGAIN SPIN.  MAGNETITE REMOVE-FROM-COIL.  She was not a large or sturdy woman and almost seemed enveloped by the soot-smeared and chemical-stained frock she wore.  Still, she commanded a presence that seemed to dominate even a room bustling with powerful machines.

The Myriad

Peering down from the rock face, Mother of the Myriad stared blankly but compassionately into the depths of the water below.  The twisted forms of her children tumbling from her open mouth had been smoothed and blurred by more than a century of warm spring water cascading over them into the pool.  Although their edges of the carvings had been simplified, the nearly-human abominations depicted still stirred faint disgust in any who approached.  The group shuffling towards the pool did not look to the massive carving, however, with heads respectfully hung low and veiled in coarse fabric of a vivid blue.  Heavy robes did not entirely disguise the subtle wrongness of several of their silhouettes.

Voices from Cera

So!  This blog obviously plays with the idea of a hypertextual culture and I of course promote the idea of reading the entries or I wouldn't bother with writing them at all but I also recognize that our culture is oscillating schizophrenically between visual and aural.  If you're in the latter party, rejoice, for my friend Ben has come to your rescue.  He's taken it upon himself to produce a podcast entitled Voices from Cera to accompany these dispatches at a pace of one a week.  The first two dispatches have already gone live; you can find (and subscribe to) the podcast here or tagged in his tumblr feed here.  I heartily endorse this project, so go give him a listen.