Chapter 4 (Cont.)
My husband has been immersed in the newspaper for quite some time now, another artifact of the old world that has no necessary purpose anymore. Subscriptions send you their regulated news, in regulated schedules. And although some fancy presses regularly publish newspapers, the central matrix comms still haven't taken the backseat within their vicinity. On the broader scope, it reigns supreme; the central matrix is inescapable. Compared to Tatterstown's Draconian grasp, Gauntville's central matrix is almost liberal. The notion stands true across some cases, not all. The expenditure regulation, for instance, is somewhat lax. Tatterstown's authority is obsessive about technological superiority and pristine civil conduct, among others. Hence, civil liberty took its brunt. Among all the city-states throughout the New World Federation, Tatterstown has the highest number of technological corporations: cybernetics, biotechnology, plasma weapons, mechatronics, artificial intelligence... The list goes on. Before the nuclear catastrophe, the state, or rather the piece of land more aptly since governance and landspans were deteriorating rapidly near the final years of the war, was the host of what is now known as Tatterstown. Tatterstown's host nation made many pivotal moves in the great war although they amounted to nothing ultimately. The strategists of the nation had foreseen the caustic shores towards which the tides of the war were heading. So did some others. And strategic deduction was that there is only one plausible way to ensure humanity's survival, as nanominiaturised as that might be. The majority of the details of methodical survival has been made confidential and enclosed away from the general populace. By dint of my occupation in Tatterstown, I however, am aware of many of the details: the conception, the preparation, the propulsion. The caveats... A clockmaker hands you a clock, his latest, most flourished innovation. He tells you of the materials and the mechanisms. He informs you of maintenance procedures. He lays bare the blueprint in front of you. You ingest the ideas. You know how to keep the dials from dents, blemish and corrosion. You keep the facsimile-vows close to your chest, even as you sleep, lest the clock should go wrong. But neither you, nor the clockmaker has the slightest control over the consequences when the dials spiral out of time and its dilemma.
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Ontopology XXI / Tenures of Repentance