Terror and Loathing on Deimos Station
Enjoy your stay, and please do not feed the AI demons
Have you ever gotten into a conversation in the comments, and wished it could proceed a little bit faster, or continue a little longer?
Do you get annoyed with the way that reply indentations ultimately make Substack comment threads unreadable?
Are you looking for a better way to interact with the strange characters attracted to the comments section than endlessly refreshing the notification button on Substack?
Just feel like there are some things that you don’t really want to say in public?
Don’t want to wait for a new Postcard from Barsoom to debate the implications of using statistical mechanomancy to tear open faerie gates and summon forth forgotten godlings to possess AI circuitry, and then go on to explore the relationship of these dark arts to the twilight power struggle between the dying GAE oligarchy and Cyberpunk Caesar?
If you answered ‘yes’ to any of those questions (and why wouldn’t you?), we’ve got you covered at Deimos Station.
Deimos Station is a Slack channel where you, the bohemian aesthete of the Neo-Gonzo keyboard warrior caste, can relax in style with your fellow neon-gnostic wyrdlings, secure in the knowledge that no one but you, me, the other participants, Slack’s internal watchdogs, the FBI, the NSA, the Chinese State Security Ministry, Russian hackers, and the Almighty, know what you’re saying behind closed-ish doors.
It doesn’t get more secure than that.
There’s just one catch.
Deimos Station is a private club.
It’s a classy joint, and there’s a cover charge.
It’s open to paying subscribers only.
But it isn’t just a solo venture from yours truly.
The board of directors is comprised of several other excellent writers, a veritable Neo-Gonzo who’s who, and that means you can get into Deimos Station even if you don’t buy me, personally, a gin and tonic.
You just have to take out a paid subscription to any one of their blogs, instead.
In no particular order, the dramatis personae includes:, who escaped from the WeaponX factory to build an army of optimized humans so he can 5GW America into a verb:, a student of political evil; he knows what darkness lurks in the hearts of men, and he laughs in its stupid face:, the metaphysician of enlightenment in the New Dark Age, a bestower of blessings and a drawer of magical ward circles for the soul:, Butlerian Jihadist, waging war on robots with the savage whimsy of weaponized poetry:, trained economist and professional autist; he economizes with a sledgehammer and autistes with broad-bladed spear:, a very funny guy, but he is not a clown, he is not here to amuse you, so don’t you dare fucking laugh:
Once again, a paid sub (or a pledge!) to any one of our Substacks will get you, yes that’s you, an exclusive admission ticket to Deimos Station.
But of course, if you buy your ticket to Deimos Station by taking out a paid sub to Postcards of Barsoom, I won’t think less of you for it. After all, I’m hanging out there too, for some reason.
Free subscribers are tormented with tantalizing dreams of wonder and glory around distant and long-dead stars, which fade into the aether the moment they awaken, leaving them vaguely unsettled throughout the day. Preliminary studies suggest that paid subscribers develop the ability to phase-shift through space-time and shoot Tesla death rays from their eyes. OK YMMV but I can guarantee that you will get into Deimos Station.
Well okay, it does, but I’m not sure Urbit is quite ready for prime time yet.