Alonz and Faridez, ribbons on their sleeves, their dueling swords, and their long, plaited hair stroll across the Plaza de Honore.

They do not make haste, they have the practiced luxury of late risers.

Faridez's gaze drifts from the distant towers of the Quartz Mosque to Alonz's face, and the scar that should be above zier left cheek.

"I gave you that before our first kiss."

"I regret the scar. Not your kiss."

In a swirl of ribbons and blades, they duel as new lovers again.

Despite the clouds, I could see the Golden Handle tonight. The arc of light poking out of the northern section of the terminator is the peaks of the Montes Jura lit by the Sun before the rest of Sinus Iridum.

Inspiration for last night’s

"How far down does it go?"

"Plato flew drones to sample, and found a thin layer on the surface but it's covering everything south of Plato, to Eratosthenes , west to Huygens, and east to Sinus Iridum."

"And it's reflective, and controllable?"


"And you said, the Visitor had been reviewing information about business to consumer communications?"

"Yes, it, um, they, um, the Visitor was asking about common forms of communication."

"And from Earth?"

"It says, 'Cool Beans.'"

Magical Girl Party!

ZOMG! The Fediverse. It's like the Metaverse, only with less Metaverse and more queerness.