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SELLER (ME, THE ARTISTE): * Possessor of "The Greatest Steamfunk Epic Never Written (Yet)" * Willing to part with potential masterpiece for the right price (emotional or financial) * Retains all rights, copyrights, and cosmic bragging rights * Offers exclusive NFT of gratitude (non-fungible, non-refundable, non-sensible) BUYER (YOU, THE LUCKY PATRON): * Gains
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Why waste billions on real politics when you can monetize the farce?
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Just think of the potential of a certain type of location.
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(New Babylon’s elite High Collar Tribunal guards its most dangerous relic—the Book of Forbidden Punchlines, a human-leather-bound tome rumored to contain jokes so blasphemous, they unravel the listener’s sanity. And tonight? Zeke and Lady Luxury are stealing it.) ACT 1: THE SETUP (A smoky backroom of The
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Setting: The Iron Manticore, Zeke and Sera’s rust-bucket of a spaceship, drifts in the debris-strewn orbit of New Carthage, a steampunk pleasure-den built inside the hollowed-out carcass of a dead cosmic leviathan. The ship’s brass pipes wheeze, the coal-fed plasma reactor sputters, and the duo’s latest "
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(A dim-lit parlor in New Babylon, where gaslamps flicker with violet-hued alchemical flames. The air hums with the whir of automatons serving absinthe-laced sparkwine. Zeke, a rogue tinker with a steam-powered arm, lounges on a velvet chaise beside Lady Luxury, a sharp-tongued aristocrat with a penchant for trouble. On stage,
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ACT I: THE NUMBERS THAT BREATHE The smog over New Memphis had cleared, but the rot ran deeper than air. Zeke Thunderbolt sat cross-legged in his brass-plated loft, surrounded by humming quantum abacuses and steam-driven calculation engines. The numbers moved now—not in straight lines, but in spirals, in threes.
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The air in New Memphis was thick with coal smoke and lies. Ezekiel "Zeke" Thunderbolt adjusted his pressure-gauge monocle, watching the ticker-tape scroll across the brass-plated wall of the Federal Reserve. The numbers were pure fiction—inflated profits, phantom investments, entire industries that existed only in the fever
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The neon glow of New Memphis flickered through the smog-choked skyline, casting jagged shadows across the chrome-plated towers of the Financial District. Inside the tallest spire, Ezekiel "Zeke" Thunderbolt—cybernetically enhanced accountant-turned-revolutionary—leaned back in his hover-chair, fingers dancing across a holographic ledger. The numbers twisted and warped
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So... It's simple. (And even 3 AI's agree.. that's more than enough for most drones isn't it) Here's the core. Combine three modes of thinking by alternation and all will be well. Analog / Emotional Binary / analytical Tertiary/ movement and you
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So ... Since the insane people are building their holographic illusionary world they've dreamed of so much they're actually making it, in the hope they can control it... (yeah, that'll work out :) )
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Isn't it wonderfully magic how we manage to do everything upside down, or inside out or mirrored. And all those things are different but even that is mixed up sometimes ;)