@Lobster birdbot?
#vss365 Very Short Story
A sharp rock cut his toe as he looked over the cliff. Friends waved from below. They swam in a sea so blue the horizon ceased to be. Three wet steps and he leapt a great swan dive.
He soared ever higher as the wind rushed by. The rock, the cut, everything vanished in perspective. With a splash he plunged into the sky and came up laughing.
>> a person doesn't lose moral standing if they sleep or are unconscious. That'd mean I could drug you and do whatever I wanted.
> So clearly if some assumptions implied that they do lose moral standing, they would not be ones we want to hold.
This whole thing started because you asked for a distinction between a sleeping and a non-existent person and nit-picked a definition of alive. I haven't seen a single reason why *anything* that doesn't exist should be given moral weight, let lone certain classes of non-existent things (potentially future people). Barring that, I'm not clear how this line of argument does anything except equivocate rape.
@robryk @krzyz @timorl a person doesn't lose moral standing if they sleep or are unconscious. That'd mean I could drug you and do whatever I wanted.
I think robyk, you may be using a placeholder for a future people. Like holding a spot. The idea of the person exists (ie: my future kids), but those actual kids in no way exist. Additionally, I might get hit by a car and never have them
Tenuous testing
Edges felt, contours caressed
A thought nearly born
@kimzetter a key distinction much of the reporting glosses over: 5 (of the 20+) cars that were rented were seen to be on fire (but one with a lithium battery recall is the suspect for starting the fire)
@Drosmel not that I bought from the front of the gas station, no ....
You, a genius: do I contradict myself? then I contradict myself.
Me, aghast: there are *children* present
#vss365 Very Short Story
A light misting rain fell on the fine pine needles that graced the trees of the snow kissed slopes on the mountain high. The haze collected into a dew drop, who, like its namesake, fell from needle to needle. Bouncing, splitting, coalescing, and finally landing with a quiver in the merest rivulet. It was barely more than a whisper of those that came before, but enough to bank the drop and start it home.
The drop was alone, became several, became many as the descent passed from tenuous to torrent. The flood, established and embanked by the disparate droplets, careened through cascades on to the brackish byway. With a sigh, the drop that was dew, that was one among many, dissolved and became the sea
Great shapes line the sky
Heartbeats circulate the streets
The city awakes