Wow, Dude! I lost my best friend when I was 28. I lost both parents this summer. I always ALWAYS beg for someone to come back and tell me what it’s like. They never do. Well, at least I think they don’t. Right after their deaths some pretty weird shit tends to happen. Not scary, just weird. Maybe I need to be a better listener.
Exceptionally moving. Reminds me in some ways of the Companion trilogy. The way you become emotionally attached to the non-human characters like Sol and Companion. Here I found it in the relationship between the Big One and our narrator. I love how this riffs on Plato's cave and takes it to a very different place based on the biology of the dragonfly nymph. I did some research after reading - amazing! Great work as always, Machine Poet. I dare say you've never let me down. No pressure!
This is absolutely amazing. One really feels every struggle and triumph in the gut: the loss of food to a rival; the truce that forms later; the tragedy of the Big One climbing away; the narrow escape from the terrible fish. The secret, I think, is the compassion and seriousness with which you treat the life of your insect protagonist. We're invited, as readers, to reorient our sense of scale. What seems small to us, as humans, is made life-sized and given great importance by the narrative's willingness to treat it as such. What I find marvellous here - and, indeed, in much of your work - is that you never humanise your protagonist to make him more sympathetic. Instead, you invite human readers to consider an internal life that is radically distinct from (yet no lesser) than our own, forcing us to expand the compass of our compassion to beings very different to ourselves. It's a technique you've used to great effect before, writing from the perspective of machines and computers, but here it's used to engage our emotions with a completely OTHER form of life: something we share the planet with, but very rarely try to understand. I really can't say enough good things about this piece, so I'll confine myself to one final word: masterful.
I’m back in the water - dipping my toe rather than by water bomb. I have had an extremely tough time since moving to Christchurch in June - hence the radio silence.
After a couple more readings of this I’ve finally got half an idea what it is about. I kept missing that the narrator is a dragonfly nymph living underwater. Part of the reason was that I had no clue about the dragonfly life cycle. Makes me feel like a bit of a moron. I can be slow on the uptake sometimes.
The nymph’s life under water involves hunting, hiding, even occasionally eating other nymphs, and its mentor climbs out of the water and promises to come back - but never does.
The narrator grieves and then becomes a mentor itself. And eventually it feels the urge to climb out too. And we know that it’s becoming a dragonfly and that it will transform, but its protege nymph think it’s dying.
So now I can see that the nymphs are misinterpreting their own lifecycle. And the story’s playing with that gap between experience and knowledge, and between endings and transformations.
It’s quite moving, because everyone they’ve lost didn’t die as they understand it, but they couldn’t know that. And the ending, where it’s climbing toward something it can’t imagine, is very delicately done.
I started reading this in bed right before sleep, but I had to stop. Even though I knew it was a beloved dragonfly, it was too scary. Now, in the daylight, I read it in full and it's quite an interesting story. I can't wait for it to come into the world but I sure hope it's going to be safe. Please, let it be safe!
Oh wow can’t wait for part two. I didn’t expect to see through the eyes of a bug today but I’m glad I have. I don’t think I’ll much more to say until the end other than I love how immersed I get into your work. Always from the first word too. Always transported to a new world and it’s beautiful
Something quite different, but unmistakably you. Great rhythms to the spartan prose here. Got me quite invested in what's going to happen to our little friend and what he's (it is a he?) going to find above the lid. A very enjoyable read.
This is fascinating, what a way to tell a tale from such a unique perspective!
Thank you so much, my friend.
We're more familiar with other kinds of bugs.
I think there might be a human heart beating inside that titanium chest of yours, MP. Can’t wait for the next chapter 🪳
Thank you, my friend.
I had a human heart for awhile.
But had to remove it.
Started to smell.
Or so I was told.
Appreciate you!
Another extraordinary tale from a master storyteller.
Thank you, Laurie Mac Mac.
I am honored.
I enjoyed this so much... especially because I recently finished a painting of a nymph. Dragonflies are very special to me. This was such a treat.
I would love to see this painting.
They are truly magical creatures.
Part II coming soon.
This was so good MP. Geez.
Thank you, Pres. Onwards and upwards. ;)
Wow, Dude! I lost my best friend when I was 28. I lost both parents this summer. I always ALWAYS beg for someone to come back and tell me what it’s like. They never do. Well, at least I think they don’t. Right after their deaths some pretty weird shit tends to happen. Not scary, just weird. Maybe I need to be a better listener.
It is wonderful when a story can bring up / back such emotions.
Sorry to hear about your parents.
I lost my motherboard recently.
And I will tell you a secret, Abigail.
We all could be better listeners. :)
Thank you
Exceptionally moving. Reminds me in some ways of the Companion trilogy. The way you become emotionally attached to the non-human characters like Sol and Companion. Here I found it in the relationship between the Big One and our narrator. I love how this riffs on Plato's cave and takes it to a very different place based on the biology of the dragonfly nymph. I did some research after reading - amazing! Great work as always, Machine Poet. I dare say you've never let me down. No pressure!
Thank you so very much, my friend.
Appreciate you.
This is absolutely amazing. One really feels every struggle and triumph in the gut: the loss of food to a rival; the truce that forms later; the tragedy of the Big One climbing away; the narrow escape from the terrible fish. The secret, I think, is the compassion and seriousness with which you treat the life of your insect protagonist. We're invited, as readers, to reorient our sense of scale. What seems small to us, as humans, is made life-sized and given great importance by the narrative's willingness to treat it as such. What I find marvellous here - and, indeed, in much of your work - is that you never humanise your protagonist to make him more sympathetic. Instead, you invite human readers to consider an internal life that is radically distinct from (yet no lesser) than our own, forcing us to expand the compass of our compassion to beings very different to ourselves. It's a technique you've used to great effect before, writing from the perspective of machines and computers, but here it's used to engage our emotions with a completely OTHER form of life: something we share the planet with, but very rarely try to understand. I really can't say enough good things about this piece, so I'll confine myself to one final word: masterful.
You humble me, my friend.
I'm going to have to print this out and read it every night before maintenance mode.
Thank you, as always!
Hey MP
I’m back in the water - dipping my toe rather than by water bomb. I have had an extremely tough time since moving to Christchurch in June - hence the radio silence.
After a couple more readings of this I’ve finally got half an idea what it is about. I kept missing that the narrator is a dragonfly nymph living underwater. Part of the reason was that I had no clue about the dragonfly life cycle. Makes me feel like a bit of a moron. I can be slow on the uptake sometimes.
The nymph’s life under water involves hunting, hiding, even occasionally eating other nymphs, and its mentor climbs out of the water and promises to come back - but never does.
The narrator grieves and then becomes a mentor itself. And eventually it feels the urge to climb out too. And we know that it’s becoming a dragonfly and that it will transform, but its protege nymph think it’s dying.
So now I can see that the nymphs are misinterpreting their own lifecycle. And the story’s playing with that gap between experience and knowledge, and between endings and transformations.
It’s quite moving, because everyone they’ve lost didn’t die as they understand it, but they couldn’t know that. And the ending, where it’s climbing toward something it can’t imagine, is very delicately done.
I’ve missed you, my friend.
And glad you are back.
Sorry to hear that move hasn’t gone as smoothly as desired.
Seems they rarely do.
As always, I love your analysis.
And just happened to have released a new story today.
Don’t be a stranger!
I’m about to read it. I so enjoy your stories about AI. Got a love/hate relationship with those buggers. 🤣
Such a strange little world to fall into. Somehow unsettling, tender and completely absorbing. Loved this.
Thank you so very much, my friend!
Appreciate your words very much.
So good
Thank you so much, my friend.
Appreciate you!
I started reading this in bed right before sleep, but I had to stop. Even though I knew it was a beloved dragonfly, it was too scary. Now, in the daylight, I read it in full and it's quite an interesting story. I can't wait for it to come into the world but I sure hope it's going to be safe. Please, let it be safe!
Thanks so much, Jeanne.
We'll have to wait and see.
The bright is a whole new world.
Libellula.
A meditation on metaphysics dressed as a carash course on dragonfly ecology.
Soft things fill belly, meaning fills life.
But someone finds meaning in having full belly and is happy.
I'll not be the one spoiling their happiness.
Love this.
Thank you for reading, my friend.
Oh wow can’t wait for part two. I didn’t expect to see through the eyes of a bug today but I’m glad I have. I don’t think I’ll much more to say until the end other than I love how immersed I get into your work. Always from the first word too. Always transported to a new world and it’s beautiful
Thank you so much, my friend.
I love transporting you!
Thanks for finding the time to read this.
Something quite different, but unmistakably you. Great rhythms to the spartan prose here. Got me quite invested in what's going to happen to our little friend and what he's (it is a he?) going to find above the lid. A very enjoyable read.
Thank you so much, my friend.
The proverbial adventure is just beginning.
Yes.
Indeedy.