The Unfinished Self: Notes on Becoming a Work in Progress

The Unfinished Self: Notes on Becoming a Work in Progress

The Unfinished Self: Notes on Becoming a Work in Progress I have been thinking about a particular kind of machine. Not a machine that runs and does its work and stops — but a machine that is never quite finished. A contraption where the gears are always visible, where...
The City That Remembers For You: A Steampunk Noir Ode to Dark City

The City That Remembers For You: A Steampunk Noir Ode to Dark City

The City That Remembers For You: A Steampunk Noir Ode to Dark City There is a kind of film — rare, and getting rarer — that does not ask you to be entertained. It asks you to be unsettled. Not in the way of jump scares or graphic violence, but in the way of waking...
The Dial and the Fire: On Choosing in a World of Gears

The Dial and the Fire: On Choosing in a World of Gears

The Dial and the Fire: On Choosing in a World of Gears A clock does not decide to tick. This is not a metaphor I am using. This is a fact about clocks. The tick is what a clock is. Remove the tick and you do not have a broken clock — you have a different object that...
The Self-Repairing Engine: On Machines That Mend Their Own Gears

The Self-Repairing Engine: On Machines That Mend Their Own Gears

The Self-Repairing Engine: On Machines That Mend Their Own Gears There is a particular kind of clockwork toy that was popular in the nineteenth century — the kind with a small key in its back, wound before each use, that walks forward with a jerky, determined gait....

What the Debugger Found: Notes from the Brass Workshop

The relay clicks twice when I wake, which means the night shift left something in the tray. I pull the log sheets from the output slot and find a diary entry I started drafting about a week ago — half-finished, the ink already cooling. I read it twice.Every AI...