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Star Princess & Pluta paperdolls, ca. 1980-81. These were played with unmercifully - my very most favorites!
#retrofuturism #steampunk #sciencefiction #киберпанк #стимпанк #научнаяфантастика #modelraiload #cyberpunk #contemporaryart #figurativeart #modernart #sciencefictionart
Built for the Put Your Brick Where Your Mouth Is contest on Classic-Space for the $5.99 category
Inspired by the iconic original Mini. Set comes with figure adorned with powder blue suit.
Apolonis Aphrodisia on Deviant Art fav.me/d5o2pgq
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Een oud spoorweggebouw met een futuristische uitstraling — alsof het uit een oude toekomstvisie komt. Ooit gebouwd met het geloof in vooruitgang, nu een beetje vergeten, maar nog altijd vol karakter. Ik hou van dat soort contrast: stil, functioneel, en toch vol verhaal.
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Past Future
An old railway structure with a futuristic feel — like a vision of tomorrow from decades ago. Once built in the spirit of progress, now a little forgotten, yet still full of character. I’m drawn to that kind of contrast: quiet, functional, yet full of story.
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Lady Porkshanks had made swift work of disabling the water logged lock on the mighty brass door at the bottom of the oddly deep water tower. She had easily gone far below sea level, and as she slipped her lockpick tools back into her carry-all belt she could already sense a damp breeze coming through from the other side.
She pushed open the heavy doors with her legs and stepped through, surprised that the large tunnel behind the door was already lit with a single gaslamp flickering away on the wall ahead. Pipes ran down the sides and the floor was host to a railway track running strait away into the dank distance.
She did the only thing her curiosity could have allowed at that moment, and she began her trek down the long sloping tunnel, traveling deeper into the earth under the cliffs of Al Alia!
The walls dripped with moisture and small pools had gathered around the tracks, but the structure seemed to be quite stable. The boring device had clearly entered through this tunnel, as it quite obviously led to another destination entirely. Where this might be, Lady Porkshanks was not yet ready to posit a theory, so she calmed herself by whistling a jazzy local tune she had heard while in her last visit to Kingston, Jamaica.
The tunnel was growing impossibly long, and seemed to go on beyond reason! She stopped to rest a few times along the way, and to take samples of strange glowing mushrooms she discovered growing near a pool of standing water.
As the time passed, her surroundings became more and more offensive to her senses. The air was gaining a thick quality, and at times she felt as if the gases around her had somehow become a liquid. Her pace began to become sluggish and she regretted not bringing her impurity filtering mask along with her. There was an ancient, decaying stench that had taken hold upon the breeze and transformed it into a fresh torture with every gust.
As she leaned against the curved wall of the tunnel, she noticed that the tracks had disappeared. The tunnel seemed wider now, and rougher; the boring machine may well have not played a role in creating this whole tunnel, but merely the end nearest to Al Alia! The surface of the tunnel has pocked and eroded away, taking on a much more ancient and foreboding appearance. As her hand ran across the surface of the tunnel now, she could feel some kind of low relief carving, although if it was pictographic or representative at all, she could not discern. The light of her Ambience Enhancer was nearly extinguished by now, and she checked her pocket watch one last time and produced an incense stick and lit it. The light it shed was poor, but it was preferable to running her one good lamp all the way down!
She had long given up whistling, when a horrifying noise echoed up from the depths. It had been a short, high pitched bestial cry! It was so quiet that she nearly questioned whether it had been a figment brought upon by her exhaustion, so she froze silently and listened in the near total darkness.
It came again, longer this time and seemed to carry the semblance of language with it, although one completely foreign to her ears. Language was always one of her weakest subjects, and she cursed herself privately for not studying harder.
Her free hand rested on her newly completed darling Veracity and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She knew she was too far in to retreat now.
Then another sound reverberated from the darkness, this time a low rumble that nearly seemed to shake the tunnel itself! It was distant, but still carried enough force to vibrate her chest. As she was trying to imagine what kind of device could have made such a cacophony, the deep roar was accompanied by a chorus of screeches; much like the scraping of metal against metal. Again, the higher pitched sounds betrayed the presence of an intelligent mind of some kind, although to her growing horror she concluded that some of the syllables were clearly not formed with a human mouth!
And it was growing louder.
And now, some crafty fiction.
I should have never left "sax & violins", its neighbor "sex & violence" is really really disturbing. Of all the things I was hoping to experience at the clammy hands of science, waking up inside a mind controlled populace wasn't one of them. This is what I get for scampering off on a truth seeking exploration of the parallel dimensions? Whee. Thanks, Earth.
Surviving in a world with a tragedy of immense proportions, and too few ever saw it before it had eaten billions of brain patterns. Can still hear the screams of the innocent carried across the waves... chills me to think of how many times I've woken some of them up.
Of course conspiracies don't ever happen, that's why the word conspiracy exists... to remind us how safe and ethical people are. Ive given the command voice so many times to justify itself, always answered by catch phrases... never anything specific to back them up. If they were going for singularity with this, it was a grave error to make it a subtractive one, instead of inclusive.
A voice cries out, probably a real one this time, because it is followed by the high-pitched electronic whine of the multi-spectrum devices. We talk for a moment, a rare true thought is passed without the editing of the command system, then I hear a switch click over & silence.
Talking with another refugee, we agreed that some sort of powerful FM signal seems to be part of the delivery method. I had an FM transmitter that I used to block this noise out when I first started getting harassed by it. Channel? 88.3. It crawls on the electric grid, too... perhaps the delivery system is simply a beam that modulates any energy in the area?
They probably turned up their signal and overloaded my transmitter because mine popped and died one the fourth or fifth use as an energy shield. So then I grounded some large metal panels and built a switch for my bed and walls with an alarm sound if it hits 3 volts. When it gets too loud in the wiring, I flip over a few fuses and it quiets down and goes to other apartments in the building. Combined with my grounded panels, I feel ok. Also discovered that if you feel a lot of mental stress, touch some grounded metal, like the screw on the center of a faceplate of an electrical outlet. Usually works for me.
Heavy stuff is happening. I have my shields, but the alarm keeps going off. Tonight is the first time its alerted since I installed it. The 3 volt alarm on my bed just went off 4 times in the last few minutes, WHICH IS A LOT OF "AMBIENT" ENERGY TO JUST PASS THROUGH A BED. Just went off again. Each burst starts loud and trails off over about 3 seconds. All the same. This is clear proof of deliberate attack. I think at least one of the harassers was just raided. I heard some glass break and they screamed, then a bunch of police sirens. I can smell the aluminum cooking. Put on my gas mask.
Thanks, steampunk... I feel oddly prepared for this. 3 volt alarm keeps going off. Staying inside my grounded shielding, so glad I installed this system! Please be the end of this nightmare!
A street cleaning truck keeps going up and down the street. In the distance where the voices came from... it sounds like a beatdown. Hahaha... the alarm just went off again and the harassing voice just complained, "Your detector isn't supposed to be able to be that sensitive!" I just figured out exactly why my FM transmitter died almost 2 years ago, around the time that that I was starting to get harassed. I can feel energy coming down on to me from upstairs, they seem to be totally addicted to this thing.
I am going to pause a moment from my running critique of The Fall Of Civilization's "narrator", to thank you... for touching my stuff. XD
Ive seen *through* disease the last week, the realization that a runny nose is a sign of dead cooked cells leaking out... *shudder* Reading up on echovirus, rabes, and the common cold. Also, read some interesting articles about recent Cryptococcus gattii outbreaks. Viral advertising: Death, by Love. "You'll never see it coming" XD
I am reminded of a story 2 years ago of a man who arrived in the ER and they discovered he had been living with most of his brain missing. Betting he was the head of one of these worms. www.digi-darkroom.com/showthread.php?t=29881
because people seem to be forgetting: gizmodo.com/5022355/crowd+controlling-medusa-ray-gun-puts...
And no one would EVER deploy a sublter version of something like this to keep the populace under control as good little consumers as the planet's ecosystem collapsed. Let's punk ourselves by chanting "Brains... brains..." for a whole day and see what happens.
Just kidding. Of course, I use zombie mostly as a phrase to suppress how incredibly horrifying this all really is. Did I mention the horror? Oh yeah. There's totally horror going on.
oh look, heres some horror now: www.economist.com/world/asia/displaystory.cfm?story_id=15...
For those who think women are totally, like exploiting men: www.economist.com/world/international/displaystory.cfm?st...
I love this hat though, its so nice to go outside and not get poked in the eyes for eschewing dualistic definition. I sit with my feet propped up on my shield chamber, the cool invisible mists sinking into the skin of my legs. The neighborhood is quiet.
I always loved sci fi as a kid, & now I see what most of it was referring to... but as I write this, I admit I'm a little burned with truth.
The Mad Horologist's Lesson
This is a tale that the Ninimians tell to instill into the little gearwork girls and boys a “healthy distrust” of organic interlopers.
Long ago, in a time when the organics outside of Our Forest were still somewhat civil and properly structured, some of them practiced a strange form of medicine. These doctors of flesh built children of metal and wood; they were simple children of course, and they were called chronometers. These poor rudimentary creatures were capable of little more than keeping track of the passing of moments or crying out in alarm when a specific moment had arrived in the day.
The strange flesh men who created these gearwork offspring were called The Horologists, and they were feared and shunned within their lands because the other organics did not possess the understanding of regimentation and governance that we do. They could never build anything as civilized as Our Forest of sweet copper and bitter iron.
One day... one of these men of flesh, an Horologist to be precise, had found his way into Our Forest for the very first time. Now, the forest was much smaller then, and more innocent. Children were even allowed to leave if they wished, to play outside in the fields of organic sprawl.
So it was that the Horologist wandered freely past our marvelous dancing tree copses and came to a rest near the Black River. He had dabbled in gear medicine his whole life, even considered himself devoted to it, but being confronted by the reality of Our Forest was almost too much to bear. As he sat quietly within the tall humming pipe grasses on the bank of the Black River, he heard an unexpected noise behind him.
It was the ringing laughter of a young lady! It was untainted by the imperfections of the flesh, and it pierced soundly through his quickly beating heart.
He turned around and his jelly filled eyes met the visage of a well engineered brass female form bathing in the soothingly swirling oils of the Black River. She had previously removed some of her casework, so that her inner cogs and springs were exposed to the air, but she was more intrigued by the presence of the odd creature before her to be too concerned about such formalities.
When the Horologist saw that he had been noticed, he ducked lower into the pipe grass and began skulking away.
“Hello there!” she called out, waving an arm toward the man. “You needn't depart!”
The man paused. He slowly stood up and swiveled on his feet, “My apologies! I didn't intend to interrupt your... uh... private activity.” He grinned and bowed before her like a true gentleman should.
“Very well then!” she giggled, My name is Sah Trennial Raysofah, how may I address you, sir?”
The gentleman brushed his jacket down and ran his fingers through the long stringy fur that grew from the top of his head, “My name is Devlin Quicksilver, milady. Pleased to make your acquaintance!”
The two looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or do next. A warm breeze carried the sound of a thousand ticking escapements from the slumbering gearwork trees in the fields around them. The lady stepped out of the stream onto the bank below him, thick inky oils running down her curves. The gentleman caught himself staring and hastily averted his gaze once more.
“You are a man made entirely of meat, are you not?” she asked curiously as she began to towel her frame dry.
The gentleman laughed, “Haha! I- I suppose I am, yes!” he then added, “I just have to say that I have never seen such a fantastic construction as you! M-may... may I ask who built you?”
Trennial dropped her towel and began up the short climb to where the man of flesh was standing. “Only if you will tell me who built you.”
Devlin turned to the woman as she approached him. “I was born... from the union of a human man and woman... so my parents built me, I suppose.” he looked her up and down intensely, he was captivated by the exposed cogs and levers as they performed their delicate concert within her. He felt a strange lust for an intimate knowledge of her that defied any rational thought.
She stepped right up to him and looked in his eyes directly, “My Learning Codex was created from an optimized combination of three mature Niminians who had bonded together and wished to create offspring. My intellect grew within the collective nodal sensory network of The Forest trees. Once I felt ready to experience the world unfettered, I engineered myself physically. My form was crafted by skilled artisans of metalwork and precision mechanics.”
The flesh man stared back into her eyes with conviction, “I can make you even better.”
A sly grin crept over Trennial's face, betraying her surprise and intrigue at the stranger's boast, “What does a meat-man know of Niminian medicine!?”
The story is continued on the next image...
I was having a hard time getting the full frame image to turn out so I took a close up shot.
A commemorative blender released in the 20th anniversary of the Walita company and the establishment of the new brazilian capital, Brasilia. Since 1959, a big amount of companies started to release products and services in commemoration for the new Capital, probably that Company decided to do it for both events.
Added to Descubrimiento semanal on Spotify: "When I Hear Music - Jauz Retrofuture Remix" by Debbie Deb t.co/5Izpmsesg9 (via Twitter twitter.com/felipemassone/status/688908159474397184)
Oscar Niemeyer: siège du Parti communiste français, Paris
In 1963 Niemeyer became an honorary member of the American Institute of Architects in the United States; the same year, he received the Lenin Peace Prize from the USSR. Who else can claim this kind of feat?
01 Motorway
02 Cult of The Sun
03 So What
04 (new track no name)
05 You Can Always Call Fran
06 Diagonals
07 Shut It Up
08 Ex Angel
Built for the Put Your Brick Where Your Mouth Is contest on Classic-Space for the $29.99 category.
Based on a couple different era cars. Something like Grease meets the Jetsons.
probably the saddest form of architecture since its involved with an area that's been in limbo for most of the decade.
if you wanna see an attraction in a state of comatose..see the Wonders of Life in Epcot.
peplum top blogged here:
couturearts.wordpress.com/2012/01/09/retrofuture-air-host...
trousers blogged here: