my boss in 2040: *attempts to administer an electroshock to my government planted microchip as a sign that they want me to increase my productivity*
me, who has spent all of my facebook credits on completely replacing my flesh, bones and organs with machinery in an attempt to gain BillGates Version 2.11′s favor: *short circuits and dies instantly*
the government mandated McDonalds™ drone that monitors everyone who lives in my district: *immediately liquidates my assets and uploads a copy of my brain into a holding cell located in VR Farmville in order to reprimand me for dying on the clock*
seriously though the life of Ada Lovelace is some next level Mary Sue bullshit
oooh I’m the daughter of Lord Byron, I’m a countess, I get Dickens to come to my house to read me bed time stories in person, I’m learning mathematics from De Morgan, I know calculus, I take tea with Charles Darwin, I’m the world’s first computer programmer, I display a depth of understanding that won’t be reached in the software industry for another hundred years, la de fucking da
lady, chill
Hi my name is Ada King-Noel Byron Lovelace and I have long brown hair with natural ringlets and dark eyes and a lot of people tell me I look like Queen Victoria (AN: if you don’t know who she is then get da hell out of the empire!). I am related to Lord Byron but I wish I wasn’t because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a countess but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a mathematician, and I have a special tutor named Mary Somerville (I am seventeen). I’m a genius (in case you couldn’t tell) and I associate with famous intellectuals. For example today I was meeting Dickens for tea, arguing with Babbage, and having dinner with Darwin. I was walking outside Ockham Park. It was dry and there was no rain, which my Difference Engine was very happy about. A lot of proper Victorian housewives stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.
bring back 80s goth full force and unironically. cover your entire body in eyeliner and lipstick. purge all colors from your wardrobe. burn them. only wear black.
Anyway I blame the supermoon for giving me such fcking disturbing dreams last night
On the fourth night
of the games, Hermes spoke. “Have you
your sandals? Have you
your watered wine? Like a droplet of honey,
the sun bathes Olympus,
but you have come
here to hear
the voice of Tachytis. Panting wolves,
fleeing deer, and the Runner
in agony speak the name of the God of Speed.”
The messenger’s skin, burnt burnished copper
slathered in sunlight, glints. He says, “A body
in motion is prayer. Go and pray
until you come true.”
Distance Over Time (attributed to an inscription on a 2nd century BCE statue near Samothrace)
“Well. This is an unexpected honor. My fellow winners have said some very meaningful things up here on the stage tonight. I want to talk to you about dead whales.”
daisychainnihilism 