word mining central
Day 819:
I worked on mining the surface from the north end all the way down to the center of the mountain range (or at least the part of the range I’m smoothing out). The weather was good for it, no rain, no snow.
At the end of the day I was close enough to my easternmost entrance that I decided to risk staying out just to see the sunset.
It was beautiful, but the stars after were better.
I miss the stars.
Day 818:
It just occurred to me that I could take a picture of the maps I’ve drawn.
Day 817:
Back to the north today, and I’ve cleaned up yet another pond. This is the pond that was above the other pond, so from here it’s pond, pond, sloping hill, river. On the other side of the river there’s some wonderful looking sand I can’t wait to go get but since I still have glass back at the headquarters I’ve been leaving this sand be. (Wet heavy sacks of sand are uncomfortable to carry.)
My ‘list of what I published this year” and my “most recent publication” list happen to be identical, so…
“A Working Dog”, published by Analog Science Fiction and Fact in the January/February 2021 issue (which came out in December 2020).
Megan had programmed the autonomous collective units to used bird flock dynamics. She’d intended to keep the rabbits from get- ting destroyed by coyotes or cats without in- juring whatever wildlife was in the area.
The rabbits danced. They weaved together in complex patterns, broke apart in two or three groups, came back together, and sepa- rated again. They flowed like a liquid.
Keith ran after them, following program- ming of his own.
A feral cat or a coyote would’ve quit when it got tired. They had the sense to know that burning too much energy on a failed kill left nothing for the next attempt.
Keith was not that kind of hunter.
If you’re more of the User Experience or Design wonk, you may be interested in my list of posts on The Interconnected, where I’ve published numerous articles on UX, Design, and being a human in the internet age.
Day 816:
I knew the local murderers would find me again sometime soon. This time I was to the south, working on the high mountains, trying not to get kicked off the side of the mountain by an ornery horse this time.
That might be how they were able to get so close to me before I saw them.
They’re loud as anything, too, yelling things to each other as if the rest of the mountainside couldn’t hear them bashing about from 10,000 meters.
I got pretty angry when they made it clear they would shoot me through the horse if they had to. (They made this clear by almost shooting the horse while aiming at me.) They have pretty good aim, but I’m faster, so I led them away from the horse, climbed a ledge, and shot them all.
A few years ago that would have been traumatic but these days it seems like these jack wagons are around every few days, and I don’t feel any worse for shooting them than I do zombies. I do try not to shoot first, just in case the next batch are different, but they never seem to be.
They also don’t seem to have a really well-developed sense of self-preservation because I gave the last two guys ample time to run away and leave me alone and they insisted on trying to attack me anyway.
Anyway, these murderers won’t be bothering anyone anymore.
