I recently got into a debate with someone over the legitimacy of the noun 'gynoid.' Although the debate ended swiftly when the other party asserted that the mere action of being listed in a dictionary does not make a word a 'real' part of language, I did, in the course of things, find myself irked that I was not personally familiar with the book responsible for introducing this usage of 'gynoid.' I spend a lot of time ruminating on how human gender translates into the artificial realm, so this was surely a rather grave oversight.

Well, no longer. Allow me to relate my impressions of Divine Endurance, its philosophy, and how its values have weathered in the 33 years since its publication.  […]

He had always been fond of flying animals. They made the long, hot days out on the raft more interesting, especially around noon when the glade was mostly quiet. Once he had befriended a raven—loosely speaking—by feeding it some of the undergrown crayfish he caught that he knew wouldn’t sell well at market. Its personality was much different from the usual bat-winged tigvi kept by rich women in the cities; less capricious, more patient. Admirable, in its own way. It had vanished a few days later, but not before returning the favour by depositing a clutch of worms directly into his tackle box as it flew off. How he envied its freedom. […]

Failures, summarized:

Klingons—

- Needless Klingon redesign. They're not Drow. Stop making them wear Lolth gear. Somehow the Vulcans survived unscathed, showing that, no, it wasn't a 'let's have plausibly alien aliens' thing.
- Useless Bat'leth. The Discovery version can't be used to parry or disarm the opponent, and provides no protection for the fingers. No one thought this through.
- T'Kuvma continues to talk after his upper spine is severed.
[…]

It's easy to identify similarities between the Hatelese Commonwealth and Iain Banks's Culture. In a way, I intended for the Commonwealth to be a small echo of the Culture, an excuse to write Culture fan-fiction in the Thessian context. But the Hatel are not quite the same as their Banksian forerunners; they have very few alien members, looser moral standards, and a stronger legal system, rather than the taboos of the Culture. The following is an analysis of the differences and the similarities.  […]

Presenting history in a unique and engaging way is sometimes the most taxing of challenges an archivist can be faced with. In the course of such intricate decision-making about how to plan exhibits and sifting through millions of historical documents to discern what came to be relevant to the greater narrative and what can be relegated safely to obscurity, it often comes to pass that there is a period of silence on the part of the Museum which seems to drown out all else. Indeed all may seem quiet—but it is not exactly so. […]

With a recent effort to re-planetize Pluto by reclassifying dwarf planets as planets, I'm reminded of the most frequently stated preferred outcome of those opposed to Pluto's demotion: keep it a planet, for old times' sake (even though those 'old times' lasted all of about a century and are the same sort of blatant nostalgia that keeps Christmas music frozen in time), and leave the rest as dwarves. Let's run with that for a moment—make an exception. What's the worst that could happen? Friends, consider the pre-Julian Calendar. […]

Futurology has a few recurring ideas that are persistently popular. The most important of these is undoubtedly the technological singularity, the notion that it is inevitable that sufficient advances in intelligence will eventually create a process of infinite growth. This idea is not easily falsified: we don't know the nature of intelligence yet, so we can't make a coherent argument, in either direction, as to whether or not infinite intelligence (or effectively infinite intelligence) is possible.

Another topic explored by futurists in recent years is the question of whether or not we are living in a simulation. This notion has broad appeal, as, if it so happens that we are in a simulated universe, it would allow us to put to rest questions about the nature of the universe by making arguments from intent, and succinctly eliminate many lines of intellectual endeavour that seek to discover the purpose and origins of life and the universe as we know it. […]

From preparations for a more complete collection of Lilitic authors' journal notes; an eclectic heap of various musings, observations, and thoughts generated by these important figures without reserve.

Reséa's writing is generally florid, patient, and positivist. She made a decision in the wake of the extinction that she would be a rallying voice for her people, so as a general rule she has not strayed from that. This sharply contrasts her pre-catastrophe writing, which was (if professional) strict and compliant, or (if not) nihilistic and pondering. The Vendashro is chiefly the story of the coming of age of Reséa, Gleméa, Haplenía, and other key figures of the early Lilitai, and their transformation from critical children into adults. This is reflected in her writing; the beginning of the document shows her antisocial considerations, but it quickly evolves into an optimistic, populist rhetoric. […]

In keeping with our mission of documenting life in Thet, we have undergone a recent expansion in the aim of our presented documentation to better represent other regions in the Expanse and of historical and cultural significance to groups with significant presence in the archipelago. These will be filled out more thoroughly over the following months.

Íora Chúkotía was never really a happy person, excepting perhaps when she was drunk and had nowhere to be the next day. In every major literary canon, there are stripes of authors, of either sex, who suffer from the terrible affliction of self-destructive alcoholism. There were few other Lilitai who coped so poorly and yet maintained careers of such significance, largely due to the availability of ready and superior therapies that became available after contact with humans.

Well-known are the surface details of Íora's late, lonely days and her reputedly awful fortunes at the game of love, Dzhemesselía. Less has been said about Íora's deep and protracted struggles with regret, anxiety, and at times, neurosis. […]