Daemon Silverstein @dsilverz@qoto.org

"Woke up. It's 6:50 AM. Ran out of bed. Brushed teeth. Drank coffee. Wore suit and tie. Sprayed some cologne. Rushed to the building. Now it's exactly 7:00 AM, I'm on the elevator with two coworkers. 'It's so warm today, huh?', one of them complained. 'AC is broken', the other answered. The elevator sudden stopped and lights went off. 'Not just the AC', I joked. Then we started hearing shouting outside, then explosions and cars crashing. Door opened midway to a floor, revealing a doom scenario outside, with fire and destruction. 'Well, I guess world is ending today', 'Yeah, we need to warn Mr. Reese, the boss', both of them deadpanly said. I teared my tie and screamed 'GOOD MORNING MR REESE!!', to the surprise of everyone at the building. Then, we heard a loudspeaker outside talking multiple languages simultaneously: 'Ladies and gentleman, we're sorry for the inconvenience. A global apocalyptic ending event was scheduled for today, 7:05 AM by your Greenwich Time, but our intern inadvertently pressed the button ahead of time. As a consideration for human and corporate activities, especially our sponsor NoSafe Cloud Services, this global event is cancelled by now'. Ms. Ellen, boss wife and CTO, shown a frown expression, and everyone seems to be mourning now, as the silence as the silence became deafening. Eventually, phones started to ring, our customers are calling. 'NoSafe Cloud Services, how can we be of service?', I answered. 'I want to cancel my subscription', the customer said with a sad choked voice. 'OK, sir, I'll need info. What's your code?', I asked. 'I'm Mr. Reese. I'm cancelling my subscription and firing myself from the company. You're fired, too', the customer said, revealing themselves to be my own boss (and a client of NoSafe)."

#humour #humor #surreal #story #critique #absurdism

How do you make a story within the story itself? - A meta-fiction By Bob DeLorean (my pseudonym for this Myse En Abyme kind of story)

"How do you make a story within the story itself? Bob was wondering that. 'You start by thinking about the steps. It's quite simple, son, take this ancient book. It's yours. Literally yours', answered the priest, while handing a dusty book entitled 'How do you make a story within the story itself' authored by 'Bob'.

He opened it, just to face his own story right at the first page: 'How do you make a story within the story itself? Bob was wondering that'.

- Hey, it's my story! - he wondered, scared. - Where did you get it?

The priest answered:

- A long, long time ago, some minutes before this sentence, Bob started to wrote. Look, son, you're a prophet, a really gifted prophet. You should be proud of yourself.
- It doesn't make sense. How should I... how should I know?
- You really wrote it, son. Turn the page.

Bob turned the page. The second page started... 'Bob turned the page. The second page started...'. The rest was blurry, but gradually faded into existence. His eyes couldn't believe it. He read the next line: 'The rest was blurry, but gradually fading into existence'.

- Which type of witchcraft is this?
- It's not, son. It's your story, you really should be proud of yourself.
- But you said that I wrote this, right?
- Exactly, son. You wrote that.
- And how I can't remember?
- You do remember, son. Read it again.

He tried to look the next pages. All blurry, because we're still going to the third page. Bob should know that.

- Wait.. I heard it. Who's that?

It's me, Bob.

- No, I am Bob. You're not.

I'm Bob, Bob.

- Wh... No way! Tell my last name.

It's DeLorean. Bob DeLorean is our name. He looks surprised.

- Of course I'm surprised. What happens with me, at the end?

You mean... with us. Well, for you, I have somber news. You vanish as soon as I stop writing. For me, I dunno, I'll probably write other texts.

- It's not fair. Am I gonna die?
- Hey, son, are you talking to God? - the priest asked.
- N... no. I'm talking to a voice that's claiming to be myself. Take this book back.

A mysterious force was stopping Bob from giving away his own book. You can't do it, Bob. You know you can't. Only you can read the book, for now.

- He's claiming that only me can read the book. And he keeps narrating some story, this story, it's creepy.
- Oh, it's God! God's right, son! The book is yours. It's meant for yourself.
- You should try to read it, priest...
- I can't defy God, my son. If the book is yours, I can't even touch it.
- You touched it minutes ago.
- It was God's mission to deliver the book for you, son. I simply delivered it as God wisely ordered me.

Hey, Bob, are you listening?

- Uh... yeah?

Say to the priest that he can stop calling me as god.

- Hey... priest... Can you hear him?
- No, son. I can't hear God.
- He asked you to stop calling him "god".
- Beware of your words, son. He's God.
- But he literally asked me. Look...

Bob proceeded to the fourth page, where I said 'Say to the priest that he can stop calling me as god'.

- Wait... I c... I can read it, son!
- Exactly! See?
- If God asked to not be called God, I'll respect God's Will and I'll stop calling God as God.

Humph...

- He seems infuriated.
- I can see it, son. It's right below the prophetic paragraph you delivered to me.

I'm becoming tired. I should sto...

- No!! I'm gonna die if you stop!

I don't care, Bob.

- But I'm... I'm you, you said it before!

Yeah. I'm you, Bob. And I'm deciding to stop my own story: the ancient book was slim, with five pages only. The priest and Bob went to sleep. Don't worry, I'm taking care of them. Maybe we'll awake inside another book in the future."

#miseenabyme #metafiction #recursion #recursive #deep #story #metastory #surreal

(Example of a #dark #goth #story / #chronicle / #prose #writing of mine:)

"As I left the kitchen, I clicked the lights off, just to see something lurking in the shadows.

- Hello? Who's there?

The silhouette moved, as if to sit down on a chair. I was going to the light switch:

- No. Sit. Let's talk. In darkness - a feminine sibilant voice.

I sat in the darkness, facing Her shadow.

- Who are you?
- I'm you - She readily answered.
- M... me? H... How?
- You heard. I'm you.
- You're... me??
- Yes, from the future, present and past.
- A time traveler, then?
- Sort of.
- But I'm a man.
- And why does it matter to you?
- Because you voice is feminine.
- Yes, because I am a woman too.
- But.. I'm no woman.
- Yes, you're a man.
- Yeah, so... how are you supposed to be me?
- Because I am.
- Huh... I'm not really getting it.
- Deep inside, you know it.
A chill suddenly got up my spine. She said: 'See?'
- What it's supposed to be?
- You ask a lot.
- I'm asking who you are. You're on my kitchen.
- We are both on _a_ kitchen. Not yours, tho.
- What? But it's mine! It's my house!
- No. It's not. You know it. Your body also isn't yours.
- OK... Let's see... and I'm supposed to know it, right?
- You actually know it.

It was kinda comforting to talk to Her. Scary, but comforting. I went silent for a minute.

- Tired of asking? - She asked.
- I dunno. I feel like I'm supposed to ask gazillions of questions to you, but I feel that I need to ask The One Question...
- And what is it?

I started sobbing.

- WHY?!
- You know why. But you can't understand it.
- So I know something I don't understand?
- Exactly. Lots of things, actually.
- Could you make me understand?
- In due time.
- OK, I guess you could... stick around... you know... It's my longest conversation in months...
- I know. Don't worry. I'm always here.

I smiled. I felt I should leave Her to Her Will. I went to the yard, and I fell asleep over the grass."

Hello, QOTO users, admins and mods!

I'm a Brazilian tech-savvy developer (actually, DevOps) and I'm also a writer-in-my-spare-time with an open and highly-active mind blending STEM, philosophy and esoterical beliefs (I'm an occult practicioner).

I was looking for Mastodon instances that:
- Allowed for more than 500 chars
- Welcomed writing styles such as surreal, Lovecraftian, esoteric, goth (not gore: goth/gothic) and stream-of-consciousness
- Welcomed illustrative AI imagery
- Had good federation with the majority of instances.

My search led me here, qoto.org. I can see that the char limit is indeed good and large (2^16-1). However, although the "About" states that QOTO is a instance "free to talk about whatever you want, say whatever you want, as long as it is legal, follows our rules, and you engage respectfully", does the instance really allow for AI imagery (which I often properly tag as "aiart") illustrating human-written "dark" (i.e. lovecraftian, memento mori and goth) poetry/prose (also properly tagged)?

I'm asking because generative AI arts are sometimes prohibited in places that see generative arts as "plagiarism" and "unethical" and, as much as I have a very open mind and positive views about AI, I can totally understand negative and critical opinions about them.

Same goes for "dark texts", depicting Lovecraftian-like cosmic forces, potentially triggering and sensitive concepts to some audiences, such as stories featuring demonic/dark divine entities (e.g.: Lilith/Kali, The Dark Mother Goddess) and nihilistic, surrealist and "memento mori". While I embrace the dark aspects of the cosmos, I totally understand that there are a sensitive aspect on them (not gorey or explicit texts, tho).

Finally, I'm asking because I want to unleash my hybrid (human texts with AI imagery) creativity while respecting the local (instance) rules.

I already have Mastodon account across two instances, one specifically for generative AI arts (where I post short poetry/prose I wrote, followed by AI imagery I generated) and other general-purpose (where I focus to post just the text without images), but both instances default to the standard 500 chars, while some of my texts (stories and chronicles) sometimes exceed 500 characters.

Finally, as per "about", I'm tagging admin: "Please don't hesitate to Direct Message me ( @freemo ) or tag me in Toots (what we call tweets here) if you have any questions"

#fediverse #help #hello #introduction #question #rules #helloworld #qoto