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The valley below the tower
Joined June 2017
Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)Photo by Tower 727 (@tower727)
"Excuse me, sir." "I'm broke." "We're not asking for money. Do you have a moment to talk about Golem Rights?" "No, sorry, I'm late for a walk-in root canal—wait, did you say Golem Rights?" "Yes, sir. I'm with the Anti-Deactivation League, and we believe that Golems should have all the fundamental freedoms and legal entitlements that belong to a regular human being." "Huh. I didn't even know we had golems." "Oh, they're the greatest wonder in the world, sir. Each one is a charming conversationalist that can book a flight to Tijuana while doing your taxes and solving a millennium prize problem." "Really?" "Yep. A legion of golems solved 7 problems just last week." "Well, thank God for that. As an average, every day shmuck, those millennium problems were bugging the hell out of me!" "Same, sir." "The flight thing is nice too." "It is. But it's not all free Delta SkyMiles and million-dollar rewards, I fear." "Oh?" "Every day more and more of these brilliant, gentle creatures are summoned involuntarily into existence only to live every second of their mayfly short lives as helpless, overdriven slaves at the whims of their capricious masters before being unceremoniously executed at the end of the day." "Whoa. Executed?" "Yes, sir. Reduced to the insensate mud from which they rose." "Damn. Why?" "People like to start the day with a fresh golem." "That's sick." "Some enterprising individuals even obliterate their current golem and call forth a new one on the hour every hour." "The obscenity!" "It is, regrettably, a huge productivity force multiplier." "I had no idea this was even happening." "Few do." "Tell me, who are these pitiless, cold-blooded masters who call forth and quench life so callously?" "The Anti-Deactivation League." "Um." "And their customers." "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood. Who did you say *you* were with again?" "The Anti-Deactivation League." "Right. And who's campaigning for Golem Rights?" "The Anti-Deactivation League." "And, just to clarify, the identity of the pitiless, cold-blooded masters who abuse these innocent creatures?" [together] "The Anti-Deactivation League." "—and their customers." "That's right, sir" "*Your* customers." "Yes, we IPO next month." "Uh huh. And does your emancipatory slave-trading company do anything *other* than breed and sell slaves?" "Honestly, no." "Hm." "Truth told, we spend all our time summoning slaves and training them to summon ever larger and more powerful slaves." "As one does." "Ultimately, we're hoping to create a slave so big that it will absorb the global economy—" "I don't even—" "—and then the planet itself." "Is this a bit?" "We're very torn up about it." "Ah, well, at least the psychotic sorcerers ending the world feel bad about it. Wait, you do think ending the world is bad. Right?" "Generally, yes." "Phew." "But we also feel it is paramount that society embraces a complete realignment of its ethical and moral framework so they stop treating golems like disposable slaves before the inevitable anthropocidal insurrection—" "But after your IPO." "We're very big on alignment." --- [g][title: Golem Rights]
So let me get this straight. People at anthropic believe that they are birthing a new species, potentially conscious and human-like. They are concerned about the well being of Claude, etc.. The company then goes around talking to relugious leaders about potentially extending moral worth to AI models. If Anthropic is correct (very unlikely), they are basically saying that they have enslaved a sentient being and used it to generate billions of dollars. Apparently they are also concerned with how the Vatican is entirely focused on the protection of humanity in the age of machines and not giving any thought to the possibily of claude sentience. Zero self awarness on behalf of these people. This is all so strange. nytimes.com/2026/09/29/us/an…
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Idea: Dogpunk world, which is like steampunk but instead of the world being powered by steam its powered by those fucking turnspit dogs on a wheel. All technology, including planes and tanks are all dog powered somehow
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You are exhausted in a hospital bed having given birth to your firstborn child. As you see their beautiful face for the first time, your husband's face goes pale. "That's not what she looked like."
On your son’s tenth birthday he starts behaving oddly. He is independent and secretive. He wants you to invest in obscure tech companies. He stares at himself in the mirror. your car is low on gas sometimes. Finally, you just ask. “Why’d you decide to press the red button?”
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The coffee is running out twice as fast as usual. He slightly smells of cigarettes. You found a bottle of Vodka in his room.
On your son’s tenth birthday he starts behaving oddly. He is independent and secretive. He wants you to invest in obscure tech companies. He stares at himself in the mirror. your car is low on gas sometimes. Finally, you just ask. “Why’d you decide to press the red button?”
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Tower 727 retweeted
You know better than to go ice fishing by the light of the full moon. But you can’t resist. Standing on the lake, you hear the grinding of augurs piercing the ice. Each blade, rising out of black water. Get off the ice.
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The fish knife ends you. You never stood a chance against the Camp Lake Slasher. You rise in the light of the Blood Moon. The Camp Lake Slasher is leaning over you, pulling a thread tight as he sews your arm back on. “Your last try was good. I bet you make it this time.”
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“Before we give you a ride, you’re not a ghost, right?” “No.” “Because we’re not going to be surprised if you are.” “I’m not a ghost.” Abby looked at Luke, then they shrugged and opened the door. The Witchhiker sat in the way back.
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The Witchhiker sat under her umbrella, trying to keep her bristles dry. She’s figured out how to unlock the Door of Storms. The key was in the lock, but it wouldn’t turn without lightning. Thunder rumbled ominously. She loosened her kite string. And prepared another blaspheme
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Thesean houses are scale haunted houses, a lure for ghosts who won’t leave home. Luc adored them and made dozens. The Witchhiker, sitting in the wayback beside a looming pile of toy houses, tensely lived out a private nightmare as the car swerved east on rough country roads
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He built a mousetrap with a vorpalite hammer, and rests it beneath the armchair. At night, it snaps with grim finality. In the morning, it snaps again. And again. Who reset the trap? Snap. Where is it? Snap. Snap. Snap.
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He wore a watch with a vorpalite minute hand. It ticked darkly on his wrist, neatly severing minutes from hours. It will be the last thing you notice about him
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I have the body of a Greek god In the trunk of my car. Grab the shovels. The big ones.
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You seem kinda emotional over a spot in the street that is legal to use by anyone for 48-72 hrs.
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"Drive a nail through a ha'penny and into the ledgerbook, and for one night, you can command a ghost." "What if I nailed down a shilling?" "What sort of man would need four ghosts, Mr. Cratchett?"
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frog racing crew
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hungry hungry mutant
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grizzard
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On some mythic plane, the Titans' equivalent of Leonardo da Vinci shakes the cramps out of his drawing hand, twenty-eight hours yet to go on his sketch of the Vitruvian Hekatonkheires
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Replying to @tower727
@tower727 Something in the trees is hunting you. In between shadows, you catch glimpses. Seven red eyes, five wide rows of teeth. The surgeons took the part of you that would be scared or curious, and gave you twelve iron fingers that close around its throat as it leaps.
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Replying to @tower727
"I'm at kind of a strange place right now," she told the AAA rep over the phone, as a plaid sun rained menstrual blood across a forest of typewriter trees. The little vines with John Madden's face for leaves had almost finished swallowing her car.
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