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A Spoodle in Space - The Space Tourist Chronicles

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  Blast off on a wild space adventure! We're crammed into our battered little Subi spacecraft, heading to the dusty outpost of Outpost Aurum. Our mission: to reach the ocean planet of Oceanus Station. Join us as we station-hop through space, in a calamity of errors, as intrepid space tourists.  Script Our battered Subi spacecraft, a relic of pre-Collapse Jump engineering, groaned under the weight. Myself, BK, and Katcha, the genetically modified spoodle with its enhanced olfactory sensors, along with enough protein paste to outlast a minor vacuum breach, were crammed inside.  A brand-new Brass Monkey cryo-unit hummed in the boot, our lifeline for the long haul. Our mission: a jump from Beagal's orbital dock to the dusty outpost of Outpost Aurum, a waypoint on the long haul to Oceanus Station, a planet known for vast oceans. Outpost Aurum, a rumoured oasis of functional grav plating, was our first target. Beagal's orbital dock was a pressure cooker of recycled air and stal...

Godin Waiting



Godin Waiting 
I have been in-waiting to go, for far too long.
Wanting to change, to improve, to transform. 
Now I am stuck in this place of best practices. 
All the pre-planning, all the strategy, the tactics, and motivation is fading away.
Step one, two, and three are now at mercy to this real-world placement.
This waiting room, a monstrous social construct contained through collective intuition.

All who have experienced disregard, within chant of 'be patient', have found their way into this room. 
The fight to climb and to gain authority eventually leads to waiting. 
The eventuality - all worn out by the fight within itself.
Only to become the shell of what could have been and was now has ever-been. 
Increments and trinkets of discarded shells underscored by the need to profit. 
Shedding the skins of splendor and replaced by titles and agents of authority.
I am within the placement of a utilized progression cue.
Nothing out of the normal really.
I know I must wait my turn.

In this waiting room, clarity of purpose falls hand in hand alongside the certainty and strength of urgency.
I can no longer sit within this snug togetherness.
This waiting room is for tired and forgotten people.
I am yet tired and forgotten.

The waiting sits comfortably together, within a song of forgotten need and want.
This is not a passive room, it is a well-constructed fortress of resistance.
Make them wait,  enforce the barrier, and remove escalation. 
It will happen - they will eventually depart from their platform. 
Their hold will transpire into unconscious zones.
Voice will only emerge when factored by annoyance. 
There will be no meaningful digression. 
No understanding of their want.
No point to it.
Just disgruntled jabber.
And they will eventually comply with what is now.
They will eventually not know not what they want or what you want.
They will fall into the collective experience of intuition brought about through the power of enforced waiting and managed progression. 














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