For the majority of the novel Flatland is the surrounding. Square is a four-sided polygon, which in Flatland is a professional man, and is one of two significant characters in the novel. The other is A. Sphere from Space land, and a king longest line from Line land. The first half of the novel describes the inhabitants of Flatland, including lines women , isosceles triangles soldiers and lowest class workmen , equilateral triangles middle class men , squares and pentagons professional men and gentlemen , hexagons and heptagons nobility , and circles "priests" Abbot, supported by information about the novel to demonstrate comprehension..
In WriteWork. It was always supposed to be some kind of surprise.
Spaceland by Rudy Rucker
A spontaneously occurring romantic impulse. A force of Nature, unpredictable as an earthquake or a hurricane. When in fact it was inevitably every one to four days. One of the ways I passed my time at work was to update an Excel spreadsheet tracking our sex frequency. I had a formula in one of the cells to compute what I called the DBS index. A rolling average of the days between sex acts. When the DBS rose above three, it was time to turn on the charm. Not that I always did. Put us both in a romantic mood. But by the time the facts hit my radar, every place was booked and full, as things always were in California.
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Not that I really and truly looked that hard for someplace to go. I was fixated on my game plan. Hit the sack before midnight and the romance would take care of itself! As if. Spazz Crotty was there in the lab, busy at his giant flat-screen monitor as usual. A tall, skinny guy, late twenties, a few years younger than me.
Spazz was wearing baggy, long skater pants, black leather sneakers, and a T-shirt with The Finger on it. He had short, bleached-blonde hair, with the sides of his head shaved. He had a ring in his nose and a big silver stud up on the top of his ear. I kind of admired him. Spazz was cool. He had tattoos.
Jena had always wanted me to get a tattoo. He did a voice recognition thing, answering me without looking up. Hi boss. Nasty bug in the serialization code. Even though Ken Wong had hired me on as the product manager for the 3Set development team, I knew next to nothing about programming, and Spazz never let me forget it. Spazz broke into coughing, having trouble getting his voice started up. He coughed a lot. He had a hoarse, wheezy voice, and he talked very slowly. Every time Spazz spoke, he made it sound like he was letting you in on a big secret.
I was watching the Teletubbies this morning. I was getting really good depth. But then when I went to save and reload the image I got a power-switch crash. I felt a surge of annoyance. We took it outta the beta spec last week. You were at the meeting. Why are we even talking about this? Spazz turned and stared at me for a minute, fingering the hoop in the side of his nose. And then he smiled, suddenly happy as a kid let out of school. Thanks for reminding me. What time is it?
He glanced back at his screen. He hit a few keys and the build messages began scrolling down the bottom of his screen. No warnings, no errors. We were almost ready for production.
Does Ken know? I might have mentioned it to him, I said. No way would Ken want the 3Set leaving the lab. Not to mention the fact that the 3Set was, theoretically at least, dangerous enough to be a liability risk. Spazz grinned. He copied the fresh build of the 3Set driver software to a Zip disk for me, shut down his computer, put on his leather jacket, and held the doors for me while I carried the 3Set out to my leased silver Explorer SUV, a premium model with the full Eddie Bauer trim package.
The 3Set was a heavy mofo, with a thing like a fish tank instead of a picture tube. A true 3D display. The chips in it had a way of combining successive TV images to build up a 3D image inside the tank. It was pretty neat, when it was working. The risk aspect had to do with the fact that there was a hard vacuum inside the tank, and it could conceivably implode. But I was cool with that.
I set it onto my back seat and fastened the seat belt around it.
It was getting dark. There was a Wells Fargo bank right across the lot, with people lined up to get money out of the cash machine. Spazz gave me a pitying look. On the 3Set, right? I have this mental image of the Earth as being like one of those chocolate oranges, pre-cut into time-zone-sized segments. And more and more of the segments are falling out, needless to say. I wonder how soon the drop in the water level will be noticeable in the San Francisco Bay. Spazz broke off in a fit of coughing, bending nearly double. The Y2K bug is a psychological displacement mechanism.
People are terrified of the Millennium, and, ashamed of their fear, they project it onto this specific little computer problem. A niggling factoid to talk about instead of facing their inner Void. Hell, I know some of the hackers who helped hype the bug.
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A way to take down the industry for a few billion bucks. Spazz and Tulip rented a crappy shack in the Santa Cruz mountains even though Tulip was a very well paid process engineer at a chip fab. He looked slightly interested. Jena was a real live wire in social situations. As a marketing manager for a web tool company called MetaTool, face-to-face interactions were her thing. In Los Perros, I answered. We bought a townhouse next to Route Just a starter place till Kencom goes IPO.
Ah, the IPO, more eagerly awaited than the second coming. For a dot-commer, Ken Wong was kind of old school.
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We knew we wanted something to do with communication, fine, but Ken had this obsession with making our new product from wires and plastic and chips—instead of from Java and press releases. Frankly, the 3Set looked like a bit of a dog. I mean, a full-grown man could barely even carry the thing.
Where was that at, in this day and age? I wrote my home address on the back of a Kencom business card and handed it to Spazz. Stop by around nine. Maybe I will, said Spazz with a wheezy laugh. What a thing to say. Like I was an ape, or a robot.