While she would have liked spending time fencing, she was to busy making paper
airplanes. She had finally found the right angular shape in order to fly the
longest distance and hang in the air the most amount of time. Yet at times she
found the saber and foil calling back to her like old family times, yet it
reminded her of days when she was a mere mortal. 

The air flow in the makeshift air condition on space port nine felt divine, and
she didn't want to go back to the heat of blades. She preferred watching other
girls tap dance in roller blades. The colony on Earth two had wanted to resolve
cultural conflicts after deciding that nuclear weapons and other traditional
means of warfare had been way to destructive for their original planet. So now
a winner from each of their planetary colonies was chosen for various kinds of
sporting events, including Alien squirrel hunting and interstellar skating. But
Alissa was the one that had been picked as the USA prized fencer, because of her
left handed approach to being cut throat.

For fencers, most of them were right handed, so they had to switch to a different
hand posture every time. It took many decades to take advantage of this advantageous
position, and for those who were ambidextrous, or mildly adventurous, sometime
this advantage would pose no benefit, and she would be no better than a wooden
clog on a dutch girl, being more an object of discomfort and mild sex appeal for
those so inclined. The midnight hour faded into non existence during her sleep
schedule, as the traditional schedules on planetary clocks were of no use in the
darkness of space. The only glow was the mirror shining on her face. She had not
fenced in a very long time, and she still wondered why she was chosen among all
the others that she thought was far better than she. She would have rather
spent time studying one way functions of MD5, SHA1, and other systems on the
computer in her personal office in her colonial flat. She snuggled with her
three eyed robotic solar cat.

She remembered that the front foot needed to be straight as an error, and the
back foot facing in the opposite direction, and in many ways her habits in the
world of fencing carried over to when she would fly paper airplanes, sending
cryptographic messages off the wire. She grew very bored with eating soy and
lentils, like some deranged dystopic movies, but enjoyed the occasion of brain
drugs and caffeine pills for her nights along the coast of simulated beach. The
sands of earlier times were baked into their old planet, after the nuclear war,
and no amount of effort could save their world. Most of humanity died in the
destruction, and even now she wondered what would have became of her if her
mind her not been uploaded into an android replica. She wondered how she
could taste her food, but realized mankind had advantage enough to distract
worker bees such as herself (despite how high in the food chain she was) was
sex organs. Her old boby was decidedly feminine male, but she knew she wanted
a female's body to match her brain. If she could over come that, then she could
make herself fence again.

It was simply a matter of time.

Rhythm and rhyme, flowing feet. Sliding steps. Distant abstract holographic
scores created by egotistical and deranged programmers. She knew that the
world was looking onward, hoping for her success.

She didn't completely disappoint.

For Alyssa, she found amusement in certain scenes from movies, about people
being executed by guillotine, and the following ironic melodramatic country
song that followed that particular rhythm of life, and how everyone's lives
seem to be followed by something that cuts them short. Oh she lived some well,
and how she came to die.

But now it was time for a new rhythm.

A rebirth of the new life. The clock struck the next midnight, when she went
into what remained of the old stadium for space fencers, and she meditated on
her next fencing scores. She always hated music in the stadium scores, as it
was always country, bluegrass, or folk trying to maintain their hipness with
a dub step rhythm. Yet in the larger colonial city, where nerve splicing is
at an all time high, people have adapted to living in silence. Just because
humans live in space, doesn't mean there isn't still some form of class
disparity. It's simply adapted into a form that's least likely to cause
mass protest, with people able to afford food with food stamps. But if that
state were to ever collapse do to excessive spending, now you have a card that
can't really do anything. In the stadium, Alissa felt like a food stamps with
all the money having ran out. Just trying to make it through. Just trying to
live a life, and hope the state will let her live her life, leaving her beliefs
alone. She used a carbon fiber boken by day when not at the stadium, to protect
herself against space pirates that periodically trying to mug people. She found
a waste of time, herself trying to focus on programming projects and paper
airplanes at home. Yet even at the time, it seemed like on the Interstellar File
Sharing Network, there were some pods that featured cult like religious groups,
that gradually began to lose all of their Libertarian origins, and trying to
dictate certain belief patterns.

She found the group increasingly overbearing to be a part of.

She left the group willingly.

She became Crypto-Satanist.

Crypto-Satanism started out as a joke, but began to increasingly become
important to keep establishment Anarcho Satanism in check. On a level, this
new breed of The Satanic Temple lost much of what made Luci Graves great. But
over time the group began to lose it's Left Libertarian leanings, leaving
Crypto-Satanism as the only Left Libertarian branch of Satan remaining, as
the branch that didn't much care if the state had religious monuments, so
long as they had peer to peer communication protocols and good cryptography
to make new establishment rules that are made into law practically irrelevant.
And now Alissa felt like she never belonged to The Satanic Temple temple completely.

And as she slid her sliding step, and lunged before extended to the farthest of
her piecing blade, she longed to merely be left alone, merely pursuing her own
interests in life without harassment. She lived in the cheapest of coffins in the
Night Colony, outside of the reaches of Neon Baphomet statues and Jesus signs at
the local used book store. Where one can pay ten dollars a night, and say goodnight
to the stars under the containment facility that separated where mankind could live,
and the near void of space.

She wore Thumb Drives and tattoos.

She wrapped them on her face.

She dreaded the idea of going to another competition, as it felt merely like the
state wanting to continue their war economy, despite having long sense banned their
nuclear weapons strikes do to mutually assured destruction, but now it was a different
world of mutually assured Government black bagging and alien abduction, covering the
skies like sands on the coast. Long gone were the times when one could enjoy their
life at the arcades, playing racing games. Now became a world of ubiquitous headsets
mass marketed by game console companies.

Alissa wondered if there was any fencing games on one of these new models, or if perhaps
like an early arcades of yore, the feeling of touch was all to ignored. She chose to
sleep in her coffin, her coffin owned by the old resident of yore. It was better than
sleeping on the floor.

She could drift into another life.

In a previous lifetime, she had belonged to a sect of Satanist originally intended
as the answer to The Church Of Satan, the Church Of Satan being the original answer
against the mechanization of the Catholic Church, that would sent people to various
forms of execution in order to be repented of their sins. While both variants of
Satanism got the part of Sin being a myth, COS tried to become a power house much
like Catholicism but was never great for women. The Satanic Temple, while better
than COS, was to focused on trying to take down Church Of Satan and trying to
maintain a separation of Church and State. But for Alissa, she could never get
into the activist life.

It wasn't every day you'd find a Satanist who was more concerned with making sure
they had good relationships with fellow Christians and Atheists, despite being
neither of the two herself. And certain believes blended more toward a kind of
reverse Buddhism that sought to question Buddha's place as the supreme authority
of wisdom. She agreed that people were merely a small part of a large whole,
but that how reincarnation came about was less to do with punishment, and
more to with unfinished business in the previous life. And her own unfinished
business revolved around the uncertain question of UFOs. And yet now as the
disclosure period came to a close, she could focus on living her own life.
She liked exploring the mysteries of the universe exploring her own personal
answers of the world, not bowing down to different kinds of religious authorities.

She was cryptographic.

She was Satanist.

She was complete.

Yet now as the centuries of the Earth drew to a close, there were other planets
that still had issues revolving around the uncertain question about what it meant
to be human. She had no real answers myself, and part of her reveled in the idea
of it being a self-perpetuating question, driving progress and ending tyrrany.
While she kept her personal blog posts private on the interstellar web, preparing
for the next fencing match.

Advertisements for various lawyers affiliated with The Satanic Temple and the
remnants of the American empire gave a complete picture that Alissa didn't want
to be a part of. She didn't want to do anything besides rot in her cheapest of
tombs, with pet stuffed werewolf, while watching Studio Ghibli movies and indulging
in the most fetish abusing of pornographic anime media.

She wanted to be complete.

-- On guard. Sliding steps, lunges. Parries, and sliding jumps. Fencing became
increasingly a stiff sport to Alissa, who wanted to try some other sport not taken
over by the Interstellar Olympics. She wanted to start a new sport, she wanted to be
a piercing prophet, without the appeal of profits. And having proceeds go toward Free
Software development. She wanted free thinking individuals to be able to separate from
the world of the Christian and Church Of Satan life. She wanted to be anonymous, and how
personal details encrypted.

She didn't want to be a prophet.

She didn't care about profits, or how people split her assets. She was already buried six
feet under in cyberspace.

She became her own lonely star.


Fairy Dust



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