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Immortal Mortality A Prometheus Foundation Lecture Series Episode IV: Sieno of Pleiades Featured Speaker: Callistus Panaceus, BA (Via Lactea) MA (Pleiades) PhD (Atavus Terra), Associate Professor of Theopsychology at the University of Orion Students, I begin today’s talk with the words of a prominent denizen of Universe 23, one Marcus Tullius Cicero: “There are many questions in philosophy to which no satisfactory answer has yet been given. But the question of the nature of the gods is the darkest and most difficult of all…. So various and so contradictory are the opinions of the most learned men on this matter as to pe

Mean by Max D’Ambrosio I think that potential must be an inherently good thing, despite the fact that catastrophe is usually a far more likely outcome than success. The middle ground, the fertile ground, with the potential to go either way, to crystallize or dissolve or anything else in between… that’s what I believe in. I have no idea how I can still believe in it, even now, but I do. That probably means I’m some sort of fundamentalist, although I don’t know if you can really be a fundamentalist about the midpoint of something, rather than one of its extremes. In March of 2005 Lori’s belly radiated pure

Ode to Nothing, from Nothing Max D’Ambrosio Write me an ode, write an ode to me Make me your subject, your content Make nature your project, your Subjugated, abject object, but Make sure that you really Make it about me Ever so subtly Sing softly Don’t give out lavish praise All blacks and whites, no grays All metaphors, no ways To break, or even slip, out of that haze Instead, make it possible Not to be responsible Make it about that By which you are amazed Sing softly Make it about me Not about an ancient tree Not about the sea And especially None of those horribly overused words Simpering on about how sweet songbirds Sing s

Open Letter to My Enemies From the Desk of MALEVOLAR, Almighty God-King of the Universe, Z’uckustrium of Z’eem, Grand Vizier to the Quantum Hyper-Vizier of the Evil Viziers’ Union, Most Large-Person’d Andromedan Ultrathlete, Extinction-Level Sentient Mobile Weapons Platform Certification Code 00003, Huggable and Fluffy Tyrant of the Cuddlepuff Cuddleplex, Patron Deity of Heaven AOS version 1.07, Three-Time Employee of the Month at FROX LabourStation 1A, Universe’s Best Dad (thirty standard years running), etc. To the assorted Dictators, Hive-Minds, Evil Viziers, Elected Weaseloids, Unconfirmed Deities, Con

Clearing Clear Max D’Ambrosio Dear deer Good wood Pleasant mood Green grass Break-of-fast For the deer Resting here There’s no mud Nothing crude Nothing dirty Nothing skewed All is gentle All is calm Nature’s backyard Sunny lawn Just a clearing In the wood With a deer Grazing here Good subject For an ode? Sing, softly Near the deer Are some flies Dragon-kind Never mind All the worms They’re around In the ground They belong Leaving graceful Flitting things On the surface Where they sing On glassy wings And the deer Stately creature Pretty feature Of the clearing It is king Sing softly, sing softly Dear deery Such a

Break a Leg by Max D'Ambrosio In my first interview with Titania "Tania" Rheme, president and CEO of Daedalean Prosthetics Corporation, I asked her whether there was any truth to the rumours and accusations that the artificial lower legs she wore were a deliberate attempt to offend her predominantly conservative critics. It was said that her dramatically curved shins and circular footpads were meant to resemble "the cloven hooves of the Devil himself." This perception was exacerbated by her penchant for wearing red power suits. Rheme stated unequivocally that this was an invention of her political enemies, the various groups of people w

Paragons by Max D'Ambrosio Just after sunrise on the day before Lantern Day, Brother Moth swings his heavy canvas sail against the pressure of a summer windstorm. He shifts his weight and hauls the practice wing around his body as his feet slowly slide across the damp grass, holding it still from top and bottom until his tendons bite and complain. The sturdy bean-shaped moth wing only sways gently back and forth against the rapid buffeting gusts, but he can feel his nostrils and cheeks shudder and flap inward like leaves being pushed between tree branches. He thinks that the wind must be flattening his skin against his flesh and making him