At that moment a sort of stillness overcame the ship's lounge. The atmosphere had grown steadily quieter as the hours dragged on; the novice poets and muses had stopped humming their novelties for one another, leaving only the hushed tones of the elders and the occasional clink of a posset bowl. The gay tones of the ubiquitous murals that encrusted every corner of the Zelúkwía had seen better days, lending yet more to the tiredness of the celebration.
Íora rolled her eyes at the silence, her attention slow, lugubrious. She had spent the morning defending her latest literary innovation to her editor, who was utterly opposed to printing it. This time, it had not resulted in any perforated wings, but she was still sore, both in body and mind.
She swilled her bowl about, reflecting on this, and other conflicts of opinion. Checking the bottom of her drink was another personal habit—she had once swallowed a lump of ergot that someone had spat into her bowl the morning after a wild party, and the experience had never quite stopped haunting her. […]
For now, though, let's see where it takes us. […]
Realistically—don't call it anything related to fire, explosions, awesomeness, or power.
In fact, if your favourite colour is red, orange, or anything else you or a friend might consider fiery, then if at all possible, get a new favourite colour. This advice extends beyond programming, but is particularly important in the context of application naming. (Mauve, crimson, maroon, tangerine, and amber are fine.)
Íoya Tshúkoto. A woman as smug as her horns were straight.
She was an outcast of sorts, at least within the household and its staff; the last of a once-dominant bloodline, her kin had steadily been supplanted by Regsabta's cousins and sisters over the past three centuries. And she had not blended well, either: a strong, wedge-shaped chin and peculiar outward-pointing, flat ears made it clear to any visitor that she was not of the same stock. Her features rather reminded Regsabta of an inverted five-point star, which was a good omen in the far north and hence a bad one in the capitol and other equatorial metropoles. […]
Sabta's shimmering greatness was particularly awful today; a pinkish glare that was harmless to the Ksreskézai themselves—but could easily burn and maim a slokdtaba if she stood in it for too long. Closer to night the sky would be a more bearable blue, but the pink tinge of high noon was truly pain embodied. After metal toxicity and childbirth, melanoma was, by far, the most common cause of death for the frail little servants. […]
On the plus side, this seems to take longer than it does to invent good, new ones.
Why not keep the SSH or Tor protocol on a rolling update schedule, like web browsers? Encryption methods should expire just like passwords.
Counterintelligence seems like a good way to create a reliable job market for cryptography experts.
Obviously this is what secret agencies already do, but the commercial market could churn out new standards frequently with enough heads involved, flawed though they might end up being.
Analogy to a one-time pad, maybe?
This perhaps can be used to talk about any species, since a stable environment generally means a stable survival rate and negative evolutionary pressure, but I think the transitory nature of the designation is particularly suitable to our little transitory friends.
Early on Geglok'hogrekño morning, vessels of the Righteous King Zetemptobo confirmed that the last of the cowardly serpents had been driven from the fair domain of Yorlamë, home to millions of loyal colonists and twenty lesser species. General Hrídlatzlo Korakto of the Ninth Fleet at Arms declared the victory a significant blow to the Hogedep Empire, if not a particularly challenging test of his armada's abilities. Today is a great day for the Ksreskézai. — REGSABTA TSHÚKOTÍA, TÉVOPÍO SCABBARD.
"What in the world is this?" […]
Every year, tens—if not hundreds—of thousands of newly-minted undergraduates around the globe join a student activist organisation. Such organisations span the political spectrum and all issues imaginable, but are predominantly progressive in their principles and address either social issues on a national or international level, or focus on some disease. The majority of such groups emphasize awareness campaigns, although most also collect donations that in some way benefit their cause.
For several reasons, this is a terrible idea. […]
You don't have to turn on the red light;
Those days are over,
The tubes are now balanced and all is right.
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