Tag: design fiction

Processed stories: 2. Made Little Idea

Second text created using Markov chain text generation. Again, the text is in the order it was generated, although some slight edits have been made to give the text a bit more flow and ‘sense’.

Made little idea where he was
connect the bothersome sounds of the Earth
only family
had aged in the Desert,
a location on,
announcing the lens,
much less of the horse,
scans the space of whom,
announcing around the music,
waiting like electricity,
and intense, despite simple,

was being much like those back home.

 

Reported quite signals.
As he turned the cottage
whomever was great,

but maybe we’re not quiet.

 

To be honest, they too had seen the nature
wandered
not only more lush
and was unable to make the journey
back to the camera

shows not only family.

 

Looking back
their artists tried
the object details

tenderly.

 

These people live
significant mountains,
much like spider life,
that’s existence

quite done with wandering after all.

 

Being from and surprises the edges.

 

Even as a small life here,
as he looks closely,
careful to ignore
the leaf presents itself,
at first, as he thinks, as she named Kathy,

in honour of the sounds of the object.

 

Families gathered
spirit beautiful,
announcing she is assigned the airport,

sparsely, tendency, finally around the screen.

 

These people live a small listen
to take the creative commune
complex understanding

much less of the object.

 

Under closely, which finally that.

 

A web of careful
to connect is assigned

the artist’s ranch.

 

When they all listen.

 

A kindred spoil the communicating
back down is taken in a row behind

the council would change us all.

 

Or at the flickering moon shots,
the camera shows Beachtown USA,
situated near others

the moon landings.

 

Taken.

 

A kindred spirit beautiful,
and screen searching
signed the dial
view of decided
that is the pictures from memory

and the small life deciphering the stars.

 

As the lens near the Golden Gate Bridge

come riding horses.

 

Some before.

 

A celebration and spirit
behind the sound of the base

the contact with wandering travel.

 

The lens near other
means camera when the moon.

They travel.

 

Hopeful to think
she thinks,

object is so near as macro.

 

The live a similar kind,
was a pretty good idea while they knew it
was concert
have signal

would do the pictures from the lens.

 

Looking at this
was taken in by the concert

have begun.

 

Sat on his

heard the same from.

As he once again see scans them.

 

However, he had it.
They create as them.
However, he looks closely, careful to ignore they made.
With safety being near othered

occasionally the Earth.

 

The lens,
as only that there to find the lens.
Looking at thinks,

she notices that finally.

 

A web of carefully during its travels across space

mission for survival.

 

Even as we can tell,
static, waiting to pass.

Before static, waiting the home rest.

 

The city that’s existening
back down,
announcing the moon landing wasn’t enough,
because life wandered
was his headquarters, tunes,
looking for signal would come

time has passed.

 

More stop outside of the creative commune
inhabitants, the lab; an hour.
She glances up momentarily at the violins,

much; it was, but they weren’t enough the map.

 

An experience
up momentarily at a secret astronaut
analysed and scattered
mounted on the was

some time to listen is.

 

Looking at some sound so much;
it was unable to make the create

a sort of us.

 

Hopefully measured veins branch through others
and he decided the collects
antique photos of they weren’t enough,

because life.

 

Maybe was unable to take in the moon.
The sounds they knew the parlour.

They played from memory and the edges.

 

An easier time.
Before will be a fanfare.
A kind, was off to ride
collects antique photograph shows
not so much like electricity,

and the bother means came naturally, tenderly.

 

The sound of the same from the subject.
Unfortunately, tendency to be honest, they trail.
Where he wasn’t enough
other life, general
leave this cue to ride towards home,

and sounding like spider legs.

 

An expedition is.
Out in the Sun
a little idea
where to follow the map and in had it.
The grainy black and white screen.
Another life.
She had food and was being much like the journey
back to the photos of the city

the rider closely.

 

Families gather place.
Gazing in
stopped, tuned, rode again.
It was near to reach it,

communicating against the stars.

 

Lens near other side of time
to connect the screen.
They knew it took some sound.
Occasionally too
had seen this horse,
she tunes,
once again see

scanning their artists travel.

 

Being and expedition is sentimentarily
at a newly acquired piece mounted.
They all smile into her colleagues.
She adjusts the home
side of the commune
and takes it to his her –
she notices sound made little,

he came named.

 

Many have since suggested the decided that reminds they made.
 Without the craft the newly-acquired family

 

The Quartet – a short story for an installation

This text was written as part of a workshop based on a series of five randomly-selected images that were originally sent into space as part of the Voyager Golden Record in 1977.

The Quartet. 19/03/2018

The quartet played in the parlour. They are interpreting the sounds they heard the evening before, when they watch the moon landing on their neighbours’ tiny black and white screen. They played from memory and the sound bounced around the small room repeatedly. For this reason, they played softly, sparsely, tenderly. The people stop outside of the cottage they are playing in stopped occasionally to listen to the sounds they made. Without the context of the screen and the flickering moon shots, the sound made little sense. But they found it beautiful, and intense, despite seemingly-random and scattered notes. 

Families gathered outside in the street. At the gate. Stopping for a while to take in the music. Many others also came to listen. Standing still. They wondered at the sound. They too had seen the moon landings. But it took some time to connect the sounds of the instruments to the pictures from the night before. The grainy capsule. The crackling voices beamed down, announcing the moment that would change us all. Or at least most of us.

 

Out in the Desert, a lonely figure wandered with this horse, scanning the horizon for signs of life. At his side was a small listening device. A radio, tuned to static, waiting to receive some sound. Occasionally the rider stops, tunes, looking for signals. As he tunes, he once again see scans the horizon. Once or twice he looks back at his trail. Where he came from. As he had little idea where he was going. Just had to find the end to this desert. He rode, stopped, tuned, rode again. He had food and water for a few days more.

 

Hopefully the signal would come before then. Another day passed. More static, more water, more food, some rest. And then, slowly, as he turned the dial of his receiver, he had it. The sound he had been searching for. The concert have begun. Sat on his horse, still, squinting against the Sun a little, he heard the sound of the violins, the cello and the bass. Being from another place, and sounding like another time.  An easier time. Before space was conquered. Before we landed on the moon. The sound was being beamed around the world. Into space and back again. It was his cue to ride towards home. He had found the signal and reported back to the city that the mission was complete. He is unsure of the purpose of the mission, but he knew the part he played.  Had to relay the message home, and the council would do the rest. 
There will be a fanfare. A celebration. A parade of vehicles of all kinds. Some riding horses. Some driving. Others on foot. But all happy that finally they could leave this place and fly to the stars.