Podcasts about at the edge

Today's Devotional "At The Edge of the Miracle" John 4, Amos 9:13 lmjministries.org 9/24/24 Join us for coffee, conversation and community. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/justbeinglmj/support

In episode 67 of the Space Industry podcast by satsearch, our host Hywel Curtis speaks with Dan Wright, CEO of edge computing company Armada.Armada deploys advanced artificial (AI) intelligence and other computing resources at the edge - in both terrestrial and space settings - and has a strategic partnership with SpaceX on the Starlink constellation.In the discussion we cover:Dan's background and the formation of ArmadaThe unique benefits that edge computing can bring to both space-based and terrestrial applicationsArmada's partnership with SpaceX on StarlinkAdvice for suppliers looking to work with major constellationsYou can find out more about Armada here on the company website.And if you would like to learn more about the space industry and our work at satsearch building the global marketplace for space, please join our newsletter.[Music from Uppbeat (free for Creators!): https://uppbeat.io/t/all-good-folks/when-we-get-there License code: Y4KZEAESHXDHNYRA] 

Listen to Sofanauts:Apple: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/65fa92b91c46ed0017ea13a2Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/0OK9R9yAKasMqcjcJ0BSatPaste our RSS into the search of your favourite podcast app:https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/65fa92b91c46ed0017ea13a2Main fiction: "Hanging Gardens" by Gregory FeeleyGregory Feeley's forthcoming novel is Hamlet the Magician. His SF novel Neptune's Reach recently completed its piecemeal appearance in various magazines and anthologies. He is now working on a new novel.This story first appeared in Mission Critical, (2019) Jonathan Strahan, ed.Narrated by Dan RabartsDan Rabarts is an award-winning author and editor, living in Aotearoa New Zealand, four-time recipient of New Zealand's Sir Julius Vogel Award and three-time winner of the Australian Shadows Award. Dan's science fiction, dark fantasy and horror short stories have been published in numerous venues worldwide. Together with Lee Murray, he co-wrote the Path of Ra crime-noir thriller series (Hounds of the Underworld, Teeth of the Wolf, Blood of the Sun) and co-edited the anthologies Baby Teeth – Bite-sized Tales of Terror and At The Edge. He has narrated fiction for the StarShipSofa, Tales to Terrify, Pseudopod and Beneath Ceaseless Skies podcasts, among others, and he produced and co-narrated the audiobook for the first Path of Ra novel.“Jeremy Szal has a new book out! BLINDSPACE is the 2nd book in the Common trilogy, a dark space opera about the DNA of an extinct alien race that is used as a drug, making users permanently addicted to adrenaline and aggression. STORMBLOOD, the first book is already out and WOLFSKIN, the third and final book, comes out next year. The books will appeal to fans of Red Rising, Mass Effect, and Altered Carbon. They are available in all formats, including audiobook, and Jeremy would love it if you picked up a copy.Jeremy also has a store on his website where you can order signed and personalized books, directly from him!https://www.amazon.com/Audible-Blindspace/dp/B095KTFVZH https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0891TKN1H https://jeremyszal.com/shop/Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/starshipsofa. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Main fiction: "Dwindling" by Rudy VenerRudy Vener is a retired software engineer and the author of several stories that have appeared in Sci-Fi Shorts online magazine. He has been shortlisted for the Jim Baen Memorial Short Story Award, andbeen selected multiple times as a finalist and as a winner in the Tassy Walden Awards for New Voices in Children's Literature, a statewide literary competition in Connecticut. A cheese lover and a former online pizza marketing entrepreneur, he is hard at work on more short stories and his latest novel.This story is original to StarShipSofa.Narrated by Dan RabartsDan Rabarts is an award-winning author and editor, living in Aotearoa New Zealand, four-time recipient of New Zealand's Sir Julius Vogel Award and three-time winner of the Australian Shadows Award. Dan's science fiction, dark fantasy and horror short stories have been published in numerous venues worldwide. Together with Lee Murray, he co-wrote the Path of Ra crime-noir thriller series (Hounds of the Underworld, Teeth of the Wolf, Blood of the Sun) and co-edited the anthologies Baby Teeth - Bite-sized Tales of Terror and At The Edge. He has narrated fiction for the StarShipSofa, Tales to Terrify, Pseudopod and Beneath Ceaseless Skies podcasts, among others, and he produced and co-narrated the audiobook for the first Path of Ra novel.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/starshipsofa. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In the Garden, you will find Something She has left behind In her casket, the richest store O' Sweetest Apples Gilded O'er Notes from the Narrator This podcast is proudly endorsed by Chaosium Inc. Visit www.chaosiuminc.com/7thsea for more information and use the code WRITER10 for 10% off your next site-wide purchase! [Limit one per customer] Support The Writer's Room: https://linktr.ee/writersroom7thsea Support The Storyteller Squad, a Monster of the Week AP Podcast. https://www.thestorytellersquad.com/  Support our official artist: https://www.emorykj.com/writersroomthefateofthethorn Cast Zoé Jackson (Narrator) Natalie Fuinha (Angellica de la Sombra) Ders Anderson (Diego Alfonso Morales Iglesias ‘El Nitido') Brittany Muth (Dalla Brønson) Emory Kjelsberg (Dr. Mallory McCoy) Ade Shields (Ambroise Pendragon) Sponsors Ten Quills Dice [https://tenquillsdice.com/] The Crafty Gamer [https://www.thecraftygamer.com/?dt_id=273468] Use code WRITERSROOM for 10% off! Ko-Fi Officers Raven, V, Nightingale, Covington, Stewart, Tarquin, Cheshire, Thryth, Ders and Melloette. Music Arcane Anthems (https://www.patreon.com/arcaneanthems) [The Writer's Room] Ashot Danielyan (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/ashot-danielyan-composer/) [Lost City] Bonnie Grace (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/bonnie-grace/) [Now We Fight] Daydreamz Studios (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/daydreamz-studios/) [The Discord, Valhalla is Waiting] Ty Music (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/ty-music/) [Fate Strings] Jake Schneider (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/jake-schneider/) [Flavors of Spain] Alexander Richstein (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/alexander-richstein/)  [This Moment In Time] Aleksey Chistilin (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/lexinmusic/) [Inspiring Cinematic Ambient] Soundside (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/soundside/) [Fast Decision] PaBlikMM (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/pablikmm/) [Black Holes] Fabian Tell (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/fabien-tell/) [Weapon of Choice, The Farmer] Christoffer Moe Ditlevsen (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/christoffer-moe-ditlevsen/) [In Obscurity Lies the Gate] PB&J (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/pbj/) [Primal Fear] VoidSound (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/voidsound/) [Pulse of the Ancients] FormantX (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/formantx/) [Deorc Decuple, Our Last Stand] Colortunes (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/colortunes/) [Omen of the Raven] Jo Wandrini (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/jo-wandrini/) [To War!] Niklas Johansson (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/niklas-johansson/) [Defenders Unite] Johannes Bornlöf (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/johannes-bornlof/) [Mother of Light, Ethos] Steven McDonald (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/steven-mcdonald-music/) [Phantasm] m7n (https://motionarray.com/browse/producer/m7n/) [Dark Evil Forces Of Equilibrium] Mary Riddle (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/mary-riddle/) [Bad Dreams {Lethe's Theme}] Hampus Naeselius (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/hampus-naeselius/) [Cluster One] Reynard Seidel (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/reynard-seidel/) [Age of the Sun] Lennon Hutton (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/lennon-hutton/) [Ceres] Vindsvept (https://vindsvept.bandcamp.com/) [At The Edge of the World] ASKII (https://askii.bandcamp.com/) [Snow] Dream Cave (https://www.epidemicsound.com/artists/dream-cave/) [The Ambush, Sudden Rush, Blood in the Water] SFX Epidemic Sound (https://www.epidemicsound.com/) Motion Array (https://motionarray.com/) Fusehive Interactive Media LTD (http://www.fusehive.com/) --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/writersroom7th/support

For this week's Investor Hour, we're proud to bring you Jim Osman, founder and chief vision officer of consulting group The Edge. A 30-year veteran of the markets and portfolio management, Jim founded The Edge in 2005. Currently headquartered in New York City and his native country of England, the firm provides actionable (and market-beating) research to institutional and individual investors. In addition to overseeing The Edge, Jim regularly contributes to the hedge funds and private-equity division at Forbes. He has also written for other big names in financial publications like Barron's, the Wall Street Journal, and Bloomberg. At The Edge, he helps his clients uncover profitable investing opportunities by helping them hone both an analytical and a behavioral edge in investing... On the analytical side, he focuses on special situations, which he defines as "unusual or atypical" events that drive stock prices. These catalysts can be external or internal. Spinoffs, in particular, are a great source of value plays, and Jim shares how he invests in them on the show. On the behavioral side, Jim highlights that emotional investing and fear of missing out can be costly. But he says that by understanding your risk, there's a way to manage your emotions... [It's] not even [about] 'curb the emotion,' because we all are emotional creatures. It's whether you can recognize it... You can recognize your emotion and handle that. Then your actual thesis will play out. In today's interview, Jim takes a deep dive into managing risk analytically and behaviorally... and why he considers it the ultimate solution to investment success.

For this week's Investor Hour, we're proud to bring you Jim Osman, founder and chief vision officer of consulting group The Edge. A 30-year veteran of the markets and portfolio management, Jim founded The Edge in 2005. Currently headquartered in New York City and his native country of England, the firm provides actionable (and market-beating) research to institutional and individual investors. In addition to overseeing The Edge, Jim regularly contributes to the hedge funds and private-equity division at Forbes. He has also written for other big names in financial publications like Barron's, the Wall Street Journal, and Bloomberg. At The Edge, he helps his clients uncover profitable investing opportunities by helping them hone both an analytical and a behavioral edge in investing... On the analytical side, he focuses on special situations, which he defines as "unusual or atypical" events that drive stock prices. These catalysts can be external or internal. Spinoffs, in particular, are a great source of value plays, and Jim shares how he invests in them on the show. On the behavioral side, Jim highlights that emotional investing and fear of missing out can be costly. But he says that by understanding your risk, there's a way to manage your emotions... [It's] not even [about] 'curb the emotion,' because we all are emotional creatures. It's whether you can recognize it... You can recognize your emotion and handle that. Then your actual thesis will play out. In today's interview, Jim takes a deep dive into managing risk analytically and behaviorally... and why he considers it the ultimate solution to investment success.

08th July: Metaverse Everything!

In this episode we talk about dancing with uncertainty with Rosemary Rain and Michael Lee. Rosemary Rein is the SVP, Product & Sales of Innovation Minds. Michael Lee is SVP, Strategy and Marketing of Innovation Minds. Rosemary Rein is an author, consultant, and international speaker on leadership, employee engagement, and innovation. She has received the Beyonder Award for her contributionsto creativity and was Vice-Chair of the Creative Problem Solving Institute. She was Head of Learning and Development for Wikipedia before moving to Ecuador, where she currently resides. Michael Lee is a writer, filmmaker, and author as well as a Master Creativity and Innovation Coach, Thought Lleader Coach, and Executive Coach. He is the producer and host of Innovation Minds' AT THE EDGE podcast, through which he has become an expert in employee experience and hybrid work.Innovation Minds is your Virtual home for hybrid work. Based in Silicon Valley, Innovation Minds provides a unique EMPLOYEE EXPERIENCE SOLUTION FOR HYBRID WORK that will revolutionize your relationship to the workplace.www.innovationminds.comConnect with Kate Isicheihttps://www.linkedin.com/in/kateisichei/https://www.wheretolookcomms.co.uk

Tonight's edition of SITD features new music from Waclaw Zimpel, Ian Hawgood + Stijn Huwells + James Murray, Nightmares On Wax, Christina Vantzou, Antonymes, Earth House Hold, The Green Kingdom, Mikael Lind, Jakob Lindhagen + Dag Rosenqvist, plus some new re-releases and archives from Cylob and Ochre. Enjoying the show? Please support BFF.FM with a donation. Playlist 0′00″ Fen by Waclaw Zimpel on Wind Layers (7K!)

Ahead of the announcement of the winner of the 2021 Miles Franklin Award in July, Nick goes through the shortlisted books and sits down with Daniel Davis Wood to discuss his book At The Edge of The Solid World, and what it was like making the shortlist. The 2021 Miles Frankin Shortlist: https://bit.ly/3wtN6OJ The Weekend Booktopian - 18th June 2021: https://bit.ly/3iEajK8 Books mentioned in this podcast: Daniel Davis Wood - At The Edge Of The Solid World: https://bit.ly/361D0sW Aravind Adiga - Amnesty: https://bit.ly/3hgKQUU Madeleine Watts - The Inland Sea: https://bit.ly/3Afckmc Andrew Pippos - Lucky's: https://bit.ly/3h55gRJ Amanda Lohrey - The Labyrinth: https://bit.ly/362xo1u Robbie Arnott - The Rain Heron: https://bit.ly/2UMfs8V Hosts: Nick Wasiliev Guest: Daniel Davis Wood Producer: Nick Wasiliev

When everything comes together … the best music, greatest artists, sounds that impress, vibes that will last forever. Outstanding releases here! Welcome to your number one ambient station for a new adventurous Journey. “Cosmic Forces” is a magical (deep) mix of ambient, downtempo, experimental, chill-out and space music. Today's artists : Trajedesaliva, The Irresistible Force, Isostatic, Brannan Lane, Astropilot, Martin Stürtzer, Klangstein, Thomas Lemmer, Polar Moon, R1B2, Magnus Murel, Forest Robots. START … 0:00:00 - This is Spacemusic 13.10 “ Cosmic Forces ”0:00:49 - Arenas Calientes - TRAJEDESALIVA0:03:09 - Magic Acid - THE IRRESISTIBLE FORCE0:09:25 - Mamá es un Animal Morado - TRAJEDESALIVA0:12:28 - Cedar (#5E945A) - ISOSTATIC0:16:49 - Wood Bark (#302621) - ISOSTATIC0:22:22 - Ambient Float Tank - BRANNAN LANE0:23:49 - Sanctum (Rabitza RMX) - ASTROPILOT0:30:04 - Super Black Hole - MARTIN STÜRTZER0:31:24 - Chacán - KLANGSTEIN0:35:42 - Into a Distant Light - THOMAS LEMMER0:39:40 - Ursa Minor (Carlos Ferreira rework) - POLAR MOON0:42:35 - At The Edge of Feedback - R1B20:45:54 - A Moment in Time - MAGNUS MUREL0:49:17 - The New Trigger pt.1 - ASTROPILOT & ZERO CULT0:52:25 - In the Climb, not the Summit, lies the most Wisdom - FOREST ROBOTS … END ———> NEW SHOW NOTES VERSION ———> PLEASE SEND ANY FEEDBACK IF YOU WANT ———> admin@ambient.zone ———> visit our site www.ambient.zone ———> SUPPORT THIS STATION https://paypal.me/ambientzone

Você se lembra dos álbuns de metal da década passada? Nesse episódio os quatro ignorantes se reúnem mais uma vez pra discutir os álbuns marcantes dos últimos 10 anos. Alguns dos álbuns mencionados: Blind Guardian, At The Edge of Time (2010) Overkill, Ironbound (2010) SYMPHONY X, Iconoclast (2011) Iced Earth, Dystopia (2011) Sabaton, 'Carolus Rex' (2012) Black Sabbath, 13 (2013) Judas Priest, Redeemer of Souls (2014) Arch Enemy, War Eternal (2014) Sabaton, Heroes (2014) Slayer, Repentless (2015) Nightwish, Endless Forms Most Beautiful (2015) Iron Maiden, The Book Of Souls (2015) Vektor, Terminal Redux (2016) Metallica, Hardwired... To Self-Destruct (2016) Unleash the Archers, Apex (2017) Judas Priest, Firepower (2018) Sabaton, The Great War (2019) Escute as músicas deste episódio: Comenta aí o que você achou deste episódio! Sobre o que quer ouvir no próximo? Um brinde de Plinio, Rodrigo, Cristiano e Leandro! Siga BOTECO DO METAL nas redes sociais: https://twitter.com/botecodometal https://www.instagram.com/botecodometal/ https://www.facebook.com/Boteco-do-Metal-115676903597206/ ASSINE NOSSO PODCAST Anchor FM - https://anchor.fm/botecodometal Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/show/3wz83HYy7eBd8o6T6YeILB Apple Podcast - https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/id1532780388 YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClYwOXr0pxgC5g1MOmCUC6w Google Podcast - https://www.google.com/podcasts?feed=aHR0cHM6Ly9hbmNob3IuZm0vcy8zNWEwY2FiNC9wb2RjYXN0L3Jzcw== Overcast - https://overcast.fm/itunes1532780388/boteco-do-metal Pocketcasts - https://pca.st/jvq1navt Castro FM - https://castro.fm/podcast/8ad7ecd5-535c-4fc0-af16-757e3adf95a2 Breaker - https://www.breaker.audio/boteco-do-metal Radio Public - https://radiopublic.com/boteco-do-metal-WxRN2O RSS Feed - https://anchor.fm/s/35a0cab4/podcast/rss Boteco do Metal Episódio Álbuns marcantes da última década (2010s), Papo de Boteco #47 - 11/3/2021

San Francisco author Katherine Seligman reads from her new novel "At The Edge of the Haight." It’s about a girl who lives in Golden Gate Park.

A life-long friend of documentary filmmaker Michael Moore, Jeff Gibbs started his own film career as composer and field producer for Bowling for Columbine. He went on to write the original scores for Fahrenheit 9/11 and Capitalism: A Love Story. As well as co-producing Moore the films, Gibbs was a consulting producer for the Dixie Chicks documentary Shut Up and Sing and was co-producer of At The Edge of the World about the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society. Gibbs released his own film, Planet of The Humans. Executive produced by Michael Moor, this gripping and explosive documentary about the state of the planet and the future of humanity, which premiered at Traverse City Film Festival to critical acclaim. Become a Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/PARCMEDIAFollow Us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Vince_EmanueleFollow Us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/1713FranklinSt/Follow Us on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/parcmedia/?... #PARCMedia is a news and media project founded by two USMC veterans, Sergio Kochergin & Vince Emanuele. They give a working-class take on issues surrounding politics, ecology, community organizing, war, culture, and philosophy.

This is an episode of At The Edge of #Knowledge with John Snyderskeys, commercial real-estate salesman and businessowner and all around worthwhile gentleman. What an amazing #conversation we had about our personal #stories, our evolutions, #spirituality, #religion, #family, and the importance of #authenticity in #business and #life.

Host: Sean Martin Guests: Helen Patton, Ohio State University Robert Ball, Ionic Security Peter Miller, Crowell & Moring Jodi Daniels, Red Clover Advisors As a country, do we “get” cyber policy? Or are we living in a generally-lawless cyber world? The US is a country bound by laws: there’s no question about that—the country is driven by legislation and policy. Sometimes policies are set in advance of a situation—many times, laws are put into action in response to a situation or event. Sometimes they are enacted at the federal level—sometimes state and local governments lead the charge. Sometimes the US leads globally in policy innovation—sometimes the US takes a back seat and follows other counties. In all cases, the US citizens rely upon the policymakers to have a good understanding of the situation, the technical elements within it, and the impact a law will have on society—both directly and indirectly—and in both directions. How do you think this is going from a cyber policy perspective? Are we on target with security and privacy policies and laws? Is it different at the state and federal levels? Are the rules clear to those responsible for abiding by them? Are they meeting the intended outcome? Today’s guests will give us a view into all of this, and much, much more as we discuss the current and future state of cybersecurity and privacy policy in the US. What do you think? Are we functioning in a world where the rules are clear? Have a listen and let us know. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge Learn more about NTSC: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/national-technology-security-coalition Please consider sponsoring this series to help raise awareness for businesses/enterprises all around the world: https://www.itspmagazine.com/podcast-series-sponsorships

Host: Sean Martin Guests: Lisa Lee, Microsoft Hannah Tun, Indiana University Smith Thomas, Big Networks Are you ready to "geek out" again? This time on Office 365 (O365)? Good! I have some fantastic guests joining me for this conversation where I planned to cover the following: What are some of the most used components in O365 that we should be looking at from an access control and configuration perspective? What are some of the elements—and related settings—that are enabled by default that many companies may not need and, therefore, should consider disabling or configuring differently? What are some of the elements/settings that are disabled by default that many companies should look to enable—what do they need to consider, if anything, before they do that? What do we know about the human element here—are there programs or other things companies should explore to help ensure their users are aware and informed about the risks they face? Fortunately, we covered all of this and more: What can IT and security teams rely upon when it comes to the tech, automation, and the end-users? Where do InfoSec teams need to step in to ensure that things are functioning as they expected? How can IT and InfoSec work together to identify anomalies and exceptions in operations so they can respond in a way that not only keeps business running but does so securely? What tools are available to IT and security admins, and how can they be leveraged? Tips to ensure effective secure communication and collaboration. Tips to ensure adequate access control and authentication mechanisms. Tips for dealing with business email compromise (BEC) and ransomware Phew! That's a ton of stuff. Trust me… you'll want to listen to this one with your admin console open and ready to go. And, more importantly, take my advice at the end of this if you find you need some help. Ready? Good! GO! ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge The complete series of SMB CyberSecurity webcasts, podcasts, articles, and supporting material can be found on ITSPmagazine at: https://itspmagazine.com/cybersecurity-for-small-medium-business Learn more about NCSA's CyberSecure My Business: www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/ncsa#csmb Consider sponsoring this series to help raise awareness for small and medium businesses/enterprises all around the world: https://www.itspmagazine.com/podcast-series-sponsorships

Host: Sean Martin Guests: Patrick English, British Telecom Jason Hoffman, MobiledgeX, Deutsche Telekom Chris Novak, Verizon Enterprise Solutions Are you ready to "geek out" on 5G with my guests and me? Good! Put your thinking caps on and get ready to explore the world of 5G connectivity and all of the benefits it brings to society. Don't worry, though; we also take a good, hard look at how it changes the way we look at connectivity, data transport, data storage, data sovereignty, integrity, and more—all through the double lens of security and privacy. We don't hold back during this conversation as we cover the following topics, and more: - We get a brief history of 1G to 5G: what's changed and what have we learned since - What makes 5G so unique, and why are "odd G's" something of which to take notice? - What are some use cases and case studies in play today, and what can we expect to see in the near future? - Have we baked enough security and privacy into 5G to make a difference as we enter the world of "everything connected" in IT, OT, IoT, and beyond? If you can’t tell from this list, I’m very serious; we do get into some of the technical aspects of this, which makes it a fascinating conversation while also setting the stage to understand the full impact 5G will have on the security CIA triad: Confidentiality, Integrity, and Availability. Now, it's time to use your (likely 5G-connected) device and have a listen. Ready? Go! Press play! ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

Host: Sean Martin Guests: Vandana Verma Francesco Cipollone How well is your AppSec program working? How well is your DevSecOps program working? Are these two functions separate in your organization, or do they operate as one unit? What skills differences are there between the two functions/roles if any? Are they part of your IT ops team? Part of your security team? Part of your engineering team? All of the above? None of the above? Oh, wait … you’re not sure what the difference is between AppSec and DevSecOps? No problem, many organizations have this same question. And, as you can imagine, possessing a good understanding of the answer(s) could make a significant difference between a successful program that integrates application security as part of your IT, security, and engineering operations. The good news is, on today’s show, we have two people deeply involved in both AppSec and DevSecOps, bringing with them years of experience working with numerous companies of all sizes from all over the world to help them bring their applications to production in a secure manner. Furthermore, not only do they have experience in operationalizing AppSec and DevSecOps, but they also lead teams and champion associations designed to help even more people make a move from “zero” to “hero” in their application security and secure development programs. Demonstrating how complex this topic is, we all had a healthy level of agreeing to disagree as we went through the following items: - What are the definitions for AppSec and DevSecOps - What are the maturity levels for AppSec on a global level - Are buzzwords a good thing or a bad thing - Does the application security team hold some of the same traits as the traditional InfoSec team? - What does it take to get from zero to hero; where do you start - Which is a better approach: top-down or bottom-up These are just some of the many topics we dig in to during this chat. And, while there wasn’t 100% agreement across the board for everything discussed, it’s safe to say we all agree that continued awareness, focus, and action surrounding the worlds of AppSec and DevSecOps are necessary. Join us for the, err, disagreements. Leave with an agreement with yourself to take action. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

Host: Sean Martin Guests: Ruby Zefo, Uber | Sian John, Microsoft | Anne Kimbol, HITRUST | Kimberly Nevala, SAS Privacy can mean a lot of things to a lot of people. It can also mean different things to different organizations and government entities. It can also mean different things to different regions and cultures around the world. However, looking at it in polarity—putting the various viewpoints aside for the moment—it can either define how we approach the protection of sensitive information, or it could describe how to legally—or perhaps even morally and ethically—collect and share information. Regardless of the meaning that connects with you, your business, or your culture, there's no questioning that privacy issues ranging from the individual citizens up to a global humanities level; it's a complex topic with a lot of nuances. It's also a topic that needs to be discussed and hashed out until a common understanding is obtained by those that risk having their privacy put at risk and those that are pushing the boundaries and blurring the lines for how sensitive, personal data can be created, collected, stored, used, and shared. As part of our Data Privacy Day event coverage, we decided to explore this topic a bit more, getting some global experts together to discuss some of the trends we can expect to see in 2020 when it comes to privacy: What laws and regulations will we see passed this year? How will the enforcement of existing and new laws alike play out around the globe? How and where will personal information flow in 2020, and how can consumers manage the collection, access, and sharing of this information? What roles do technology, assessments, and reporting play when it comes to demonstrating the ethical use of peoples' information? These are just some of the many topics we dig in to during this chat. Trust me; you won't want to miss this group as they provide some incredible insight into where privacy is headed this year, like it or not. Enjoy! >> NOTE: THE FULL TRANSCRIPT CAN BE FOUND ON THE PODCAST RECAP >> https://itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge-posts/the-future-of-privacy-trends-in-2020-you-cant-ignore-at-the-edge ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Interfocus and Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

Hosts: Sean Martin and Marco Ciappelli Guests: Cynthia Moore, Alyssa Miller, and Chris Pierson We have many conversations with InfoSec professionals from around the world and often we hear about how important it is to raise awareness for our employees—not only at work but also at home. During these conversations, there seems to be a common theme that continues to surface: if the employees take cybersecurity seriously at home—making it important to protect themselves and their families—then that learning will “stick” better when they come back into the office. This makes good sense, but there’s much more to this than the concept itself—it’s not as simple as flipping a switch to make this happen. Plus, there may also be some liabilities and legalities that could change the way organizations approach this type of program. In today’s program, our guests walk us through some of the benefits, goals, and challenges associated with this method of reducing the risk for the organization. We head down the path of implementation, looking at what’s required, who’s involved, and when the program’s reach becomes too much—is it possible to overstep the boundaries? These are some of the program’s attributes described by the group: - Frictionless - Passion - Creativity - Enjoyment In the end, our guests talk about many things yet quite simply land on the shared view that a program that looks at the users in their IT stack as people first and then employees is the best approach; a happy, healthy person has a better chance of being a well-performing employee. Does your organization have a cyber-wellness program? If so, listen then the podcast and then share your thoughts with us and our followers. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

At The Edge of Time Dan Hooper is a senior scientist and the head of the Theoretical Astrophysics Group at the Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory (Fermilab). He is also Associate Professor of Astronomy and Astrophysics at the University of Chicago. Dr. Hooper received his Ph.D. in Physics from the University of Wisconsin–Madison. He was later a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Oxford and the David Schramm Fellow at Fermilab. Dr. Hooper’s research focuses on the interface between particle physics and cosmology, covering topics such as dark matter, dark energy, supersymmetry, neutrinos, extra dimensions, and ultra-high-energy cosmic rays. He has authored more than 200 articles in peer-reviewed scientific journals, and he has given an even larger number of technical talks at scientific conferences and university seminars and colloquia. Dr. Hooper is the author of three books written for nonscientists: Dark Cosmos: In Search of Our Universe’s Missing Mass and Energy, Nature’s Blueprint: Supersymmetry and the Search for a Unified Theory of Matter and Force, and At the Edge of Time: Exploring the Mysteries of Our Universe’s First Seconds. He has also written for popular magazines such as Astronomy, Sky & Telescope, and New Scientist. He gives many public lectures and is frequently called on by the media to comment on science news. Dr. Hooper’s television appearances include Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman and Space’s Deepest Secrets, and he has been interviewed on NPR’s Science Friday. Professor Hooper also teaches through The Great Courses As the new field of astro-particle physics rapidly develops, we are witnessing an exciting time in the history of science. In addition to the progress being made in the traditional areas of experimental particle physics (accelerator experiments), exciting developments are also taking place in the use of astrophysical experiments to study elementary particles. The most striking example of this success is the measurement of the neutrino masses and mixing angles that have been made over the last decade. Many of the questions asked by particle physicists are difficult to address with collider experiments and are being explored ever increasingly by astrophysicists. These efforts include the development of particle dark matter searches, ultra-high energy cosmic rays detectors, gamma-ray telescopes and high-energy neutrino telescopes. Professor Hooper’s research is focused primarily, although not entirely, on studying and exploring particle physics beyond the Standard Model using astrophysics. Other books mentioned in this program: Losing The Nobel Prize by Brian Keating Something Deeply Hidden by Sean Carol Black Hole Blues by Janna Levin The First Three Minutes by Steven Weinberg Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In part 2 of this At The Edge podcast, we continue to look at the state of cybersecurity in Europe with a deeper dive into Ireland. As John Durcan reviews organizations and examines their business ideas and supporting technology, he's seeing more companies tying in the security piece right from the beginning. Companies are finally grasping the concept that it's better to bring information security into the conversation as early as possible. For example, many are looking at implementing a "security by design" model from the company's inception and leveraging application security best practices as the product is developed. "There's no reason now for a company not to start building security into their product." ~John Durcan I also personally witnessed some trends first-hand where companies in Ireland are leading with security as a differentiator. As John and Brendan confirm during our chat, this not only helps organizations win new business when engaging with their prospects but also helps them compete with some of the larger organizations in their space. Embracing security as a value is especially helpful for small and medium enterprises tasked with responding to third-party assessment requests from their business partners. Brendan: "If you can't answer the 'why,' maybe you shouldn't do it that way." As the conversation continues, we get additional details from John and Brendan regarding the Cyber Ireland Cluster and what it means to do business in Ireland. Ultimately, it's all about the talent in Ireland and attracting new inbound talent while keeping the existing resources current and fresh as the InfoSec market continues to grow. The responsibility for growing talent moves well beyond Irish businesses, of course. Therefore, we decide to take a look at current and future programs implemented throughout the educational system in Ireland. Most of the program goals are two-fold: keep Irish talent current and bring new talent into Ireland. John and Brendan point to several initiatives in the primary and secondary school levels, while also citing initiatives geared toward keeping the interest level up to where it often drops off between the ages of 14 and 18. If they don't stay interested, they won't join the workforce. Recognizing and overcoming this challenge appears to be a top priority. We wrap up the conversation with some final thoughts from John and Brendan, but not before they provide their views on Artificial Intelligence and Blockchain -- are these technologies snake oil or reality? Listen up to hear their answers. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Interfocus and Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Interfocus: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/interfocus - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

Guests: Katie Nickels | Fred Wilmot | Ryan Kovar I was trying hard for a couple of months to organize a chat with Katie Nickels [Lead Cyber Security Engineer at MITRE] and Fred Wilmot [VP, Security Engineering at Devo] to dig into the topic of MITRE ATT&CK. I wanted to know more about the framework, how it works, why it was getting so much traction, and how organizations were successfully operationalizing the framework within their risk and security management programs. It turns out, Katie and Fred are both extremely busy. I found it a nearly-impossible task bringing these two experts together to talk about MITRE ATT&CK. They both wanted to—however, we couldn’t get the calendars to work in our favor. Until … we were all in the same town during the same week for the same set of events—can you say Hacker Summer Camp?! Knowing this, I took one more shot at connecting with Katie and Fred in an attempt to meet them in person in Las Vegas; low and behold—I had success! Not only did I succeed in bringing Katie and Fred together for this podcast, but I also got a chance to meet Ryan Kovar [Principal Security Strategist at Splunk]—who happened to be presenting on ATT&CK with Katie that week. I asked Ryan to join us for the conversation as well. He agreed. BONUS! To top it all off, we got to meet in a 39th-floor suite overlooking the Las Vegas Strip—a pretty chill environment from which to have our chat, indeed. Once we were all together and mic’d up, we got to talking. We talked a lot. We looked at what MITRE ATT&CK is, what it’s for, who it’s for, how to get started with it, how to be successful with it, and what scenarios could be leveraged to learn from others’ successes and challenges. “Risk [management] is about understanding the threats and the control gaps you have—it’s about knowing your adversaries and yourself." ~Katie Nickels We covered the obvious: MITRE ATT&CK is a framework that is threat intelligence derived. What started as a grassroots efforts from the ground up now has a groundswell of support from the community. We pulled back the covers to learn more about how and why this is the case. According to Katie, one great place to start on the threat intel side is to focus on a technique, group or malware sample that your org is concerned about and map what the adversaries are doing to where the gaps are in your controls. If the adversary is doing something you can’t protect against, that’s an excellent place to start. We also covered the role vendors can play in ensuring a successful implementation of the framework; plan to lean on them for translating the data (and its source/s) to be utilized within the organization. One of the main benefits of MITRE ATT&CK is that it provides a universal language that can use across vendors—by having security vendor competitors that are mapping to ATT&CK means you can build a better coverage map across those vendors that you use (or are considering). However, don’t forget that it’s ultimately up to the organization to understand their environment, specific business needs, relevant threat vectors, and the countering adversary cesspool that matter to their business risk profile. As we continued the conversation, it became crystal clear that storytelling is—and must be—front and center in the definition and application of MITRE ATT&CK within your environment. This is important to avoid the possibility of the framework becoming just another checkbox item. Want to learn more from the fantastic group of experts? Good! Have a listen! ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Interfocus and Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Interfocus: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/interfocus - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

Far too often, as an industry, we (the cybersecurity professionals) tend to talk about security with other security professionals as opposed to a larger group of people outside of the industry. The challenge with this is that we end up missing out on driving a culture of security into the rest of the business, and we lost out on understanding how cybersecurity can help the business beyond keeping things from hitting the fan. Wouldn’t it be good if we could cross that bridge such that we all have a good picture for what’s important for the business — and ultimately for humanity and the societies for which we create? What if, for example, at the same that we’re researching and developing a new medical technology designed to improve the health of humans, we also look at the cybersecurity, cyberprivacy, and cybersafety elements of this new invention? What if we take that up one more notch to teach students at all levels that this is paramount and that these “cyber” elements shouldn’t be an afterthought, but part of the mindset and culture of each person and the organization for which they work? While I may be a bit aggressive — and may even be, perhaps, presenting a utopian view for which we are from realizing — these are some of the main drivers underneath a conversation I had earlier this year with Brendan Bonner, Chief Technologist — Technology, Content and Business Services at IDA Ireland, and John Durcan, Senior Technologist at Enterprise Ireland. I wanted to get their collective view on the state of technology, cybersecurity, and privacy in Ireland and the rest of the European Union in connection with other innovations and industries in which both entities invest heavily. You’re in luck with this podcast. Because we had such an engaging conversation, this podcast warrants two parts. One part for the drive/ride into work — the other for the return home. Part 1: The roles of IDA Ireland and Enterprise Ireland in the areas of innovation, technology and cybersecurity and the value of investing in cybersecurity education, talent growth, international policy, and binding ethics with technology and society. Some of the specific topics discussed: - Horizon 2020 in Ireland and Horizon Europe 2021-2027, which calls explicitly for ethical secure artificial intelligence - The synergies and collaboration between Enterprise Ireland and IDA Ireland - Collaboration amongst industry, academia, law enforcement, government, and the community - The launch of Cyber Ireland and other similar clusters designed to formally connect industry with the rest of the ecosystem - The launch of a government-lead disruptive technology innovation fund - The value of the R&D ecosystem in Ireland to drive meaningful connections between the human element and technology - Several examples of how different technologies — such as artificial intelligence, robotics, and blockchain — are being used to make an impact on society - Initiatives designed to improve the lives of the citizens, including those driven by smart city innovations - Ireland is positioned as a leader in the EU in relation to ethical development and use of artificial intelligence research and education Have a listen. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsors, Interfocus and Nintex. Be sure to visit their directory pages on ITSPmagazine - Interfocus: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/interfocus - Nintex: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/nintex To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

As I generally do on a regular basis, I was scrolling through my LinkedIn and Twitter feeds to see what was happening in the world or cybersecurity and business and came across a post about the BlueKeep vulnerability and patch on LinkedIn from Scott Scheferman that contained a heading which read: “Thoughts on BlueKeep that media isn't telling you:” As a journalist, I found this statement intriguing. Thus, I began working on connecting with Scott to get him on a podcast to discuss this further. After a few attempts to bring together a few folks, I was able to pull in Rick McElroy and @JaGoTu to join Scott and me for this chat. Needless to say, they did not disappoint. During our nearly-one-hour chat, we cover tons of stuff, including: How can security teams detect BlueKeep … can they? How to protect against BlueKeep … Is patching enough? Is it the only way? Are you using a protection method that won’t actually protect you? Should we be prepared for a worm-enabled outbreak similar to WannaCry? What’s the role of machine learning and artificial intelligence in this situation? Why are we still using RDP and forcing ourselves to deal with this crap? What role do ISAOs, ISACs, and other threat intelligence communities play in protecting against these types of threats? How do smaller, less mature, less funded businesses prepare for the moment when the “stuff” hits the fan? Have you reviewed your cyber insurance policy (and clauses/riders) lately? There’s a lot to absorb here. I would encourage you to take the time to learn from this conversation and then apply what you’ve learned to your infosec program. And, if you value the community, take a moment to share this with a few of your peers to help them out. Have a listen. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsor, Interfocus. Be sure to visit their directory page on ITSPmagazine at https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/interfocus To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

While some people may look at their mobile phone and think that it is more than just a phone … that it actually has a persona. Some may even give it a name. Or, naturally, they use the name given to the personal assistant that resides “in” the phone as they call for it … “Hey!” The same goes for the digital personal assistant devices taking over many homes. Similar commands and conversations are taking place with these named “things.” Many of these devices are finding their way into the workplace as well. Sure—why not? For those fortunate enough to get to play with robots, there are likely units that get proper names—even if only a code name for the project—and therefore, these robots have an identity. One could argue they have a persona as well. But, what about the rest of the connected “things” that we use in our homes to make us more efficient? And at work to help us do our jobs? And in our hospitals to deliver better patient care? And in our cities to help streamline traffic and the overall flow of stuff throughout the neighborhood? What about our scooters bikes, cars, trucks, planes, trains, and boats? And what about all of the sensors that collect data from—and feed data to—all of these other things so they can operate properly? Do these things have personas? Do they have identities? What happens in a world where these things don’t actually have an identity and there is no way for anyone (or any machine) to identify these things and to tell them apart from the rest of the devices? What happens when they do have an identity, but the means with which they have been assigned that identity is flawed? Ultimately, how does the existence or non -existence of an identity for every device connected to the Internet change the way we deploy, use, and manage all this stuff? Can we survive in a massively-connected world if we don’t get the identity angle of all this correct? How can you be sure? As I connect with Emily, Dean, and Ted, we look at the current state of security in IT, OT, IoT, and ICS — and the connections between these different environments. Together, we explore how identity plays a critical role in ensuring a safe environment that can be traced to specific sensors, devices networks, and people. And, with the massive numbers of things hitting the market—and our society—we attempt to answer the question surrounding our ability (or lack thereof) to scale the controls and protections to minimize—or perhaps even eliminate—excessive exposure to risk introduced by these things. Finally, we also look at the relationships formed within this ecosystem. What relationships do people build with their devices? What relationship do these devices have with the networks to which they connect? What relationship gets established between the devices—both on a 1:1 perspective and a 1:many or many:many perspective? Listen in to learn more … just as I did as we began to dig into this topic. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsor, Interfocus. Be sure to visit their directory page on ITSPmagazine at: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/interfocus To catch more stories At The Edge, be sure to visit: https://www.itspmagazine.com/at-the-edge

The 12th annual edition of the Verizon Data Breach Investigations Report (DBIR) was just released. The release of the DBIR is big news every year; people and companies wait patiently for the report to get published, so they read it and “absorb” it. Are you one of those people? Did you download it? Did you skim through it? Did you read it cover to cover? Or, did you (or do you plan to) go that extra step to work through it with your team to help your company operationalize its risk and information security programs? Hopefully, you take those extra moments to do just that. There’s a ton of data, stories, and actionable information in this report — especially when combined with other reports from Verizon, including the Insider Threat Report and the Data Breach Digests. Let’s dig into this episode so you can spring into action. ________ This episode of At The Edge is made possible by the generosity of our sponsor, Interfocus. Be sure to visit their directory page on ITSPmagazine at: https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/interfocus

In today’s episode, Sean Martin is joined by two guests hailing from Australia — Simon Harman, project lead for the Loki project, and Anthony Stevens, Founder and CEO of Digital Asset Ventures. Today’s topic is one that still gets a lot of attention, even if it seems to be overplayed in the media, the workplace, and in the venture world … blockchain. We’re not talking about cryptocurrency here; we’re talking about the more generic topic of the distributed ledger, shared data management and scalable transaction capabilities offered by blockchain technology. Of course, with the hype comes a lot of skepticism. And, with a lot of misunderstanding of what it is, comes a lot of questions. These things together make people and companies wonder what blockchain is, whether it provides value, and if it matters as a potential technological advancement for their programs and projects. Still, in many cases, people and companies alike are trying to adopt blockchain. Why? We cover many things in this podcast, including: - What is blockchain and what can it be used for? - Is it so unique that there aren’t any alternative models? - Are there any real claims of success? - Are there false claims that need to be called out? - Are we looking to apply blockchain to well-known problems or are we trying to find unique problems to solve with blockchain? - Are there efforts taking place in Australia that differ from those taking place in the U.S.? You might be surprised by Anthony and Simon’s final take on why blockchain will (or won’t) be the next big wave of technology deployment in the near future. Where will it succeed? What will keep it from being ubiquitous? Listen in to find out. Interested in sponsoring the At The Edge podcast series and column? Have a look here (https://www.itspmagazine.com/podcast-series-sponsorships) and let us know (https://www.itspmagazine.com/contact-us).

GRAVEDIGGING by Sarah Goldman   When I woke up, I noticed first that Clarissa was there, because she was always the first thing I noticed. I noticed three things immediately after that: it was dark, I could feel dirt under my fingers, and my mouth tasted disgusting, like charcoal and rubbing alcohol and cotton. "What the fuck?" is what I tried to say, except I don't think the words came out quite right. I started coughing and I couldn't stop. "Just give it a second," Clarissa said, rubbing my back. I got a good look at her once the coughing subsided and my eyes stopped watering, and she looked like she'd been run over by a truck a few times: dark circles, greasy hair, unwashed skin. Clarissa always tried to look as put together as people expected her to be. I'd seen her look this messed up once or twice before, and it never meant anything good.     [Full story after the cut.]   Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip Episode 63! This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to share this story with you. Today we have a reprint of “Gravedigging" by Sarah Goldman. This story is part of the (late) Spring 2018 issue of GlitterShip is available for purchase at glittership.com/buy and on Kindle, Nook, and Kobo. If you’re a Patreon supporter, you should have access to this issue waiting for you when you log in. We also have GlitterShip Year Two available in both ebook and paperback formats to add to your queer science fiction collection. GlitterShip is also a part of the Audible Trial Program. This means that just by listening to GlitterShip, you are eligible for a free 30 day membership on Audible, and a free audiobook to keep. If you’re looking for an excellent queer book to listen to, check out Autonomous by Annalee Newitz. This book has a ton of cool concepts and really intriguing characters. If you're a fan of patent-fighting drug pirates or AI characters working out their identities, this is the book for you. To download Autonomous for free today, go to www.audibletrial.com/glittership — or choose another book if you’re in the mood for something else.     Sarah Goldman grew up near Kansas City and studied sociology at Bryn Mawr College. She is a First Reader at Strange Horizons, and her short fiction has appeared in Cicada and Escape Pod. You can find her online at sarahmgoldman.com, or on Twitter @sarahwhowrites. "Gravedigging" is narrated by A.J. Fitzwater. A.J. Fitzwater is a dragon wearing a human meat suit from Christchurch, New Zealand. A graduate of Clarion 2014, she’s had stories published in Shimmer Magazine, Andromeda Spaceways Magazine, and in Paper Road Press’s At The Edge anthology. She also has stories coming soon at Kaleidotrope and PodCastle. As a narrator, her voice has been heard across the Escape Artists Network, on Redstone SF, and Interzone. She tweets under her penname as @AJFitzwater.       GRAVEDIGGING by Sarah Goldman   When I woke up, I noticed first that Clarissa was there, because she was always the first thing I noticed. I noticed three things immediately after that: it was dark, I could feel dirt under my fingers, and my mouth tasted disgusting, like charcoal and rubbing alcohol and cotton. "What the fuck?" is what I tried to say, except I don't think the words came out quite right. I started coughing and I couldn't stop. "Just give it a second," Clarissa said, rubbing my back. I got a good look at her once the coughing subsided and my eyes stopped watering, and she looked like she'd been run over by a truck a few times: dark circles, greasy hair, unwashed skin. Clarissa always tried to look as put together as people expected her to be. I'd seen her look this messed up once or twice before, and it never meant anything good. "Are you okay?" I asked. I had a little more luck with pronunciation this time. "You look kind of like death warmed over. No offense." Clarissa started to laugh, loud and wild enough that it was more scary than comforting. When she stopped, I only had time to open my mouth to ask a question before her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped over next to me in the dirt. We were lying on dirt. It was dark. I looked up, and up, and up, and when I saw the edges of the hole we were in, I understood what Clarissa had done. I clambered up the sides of the grave to get a good look at the headstone. I knew what it would say, but I had to see it. It told me that May Tenenbaum had died at nineteen years old. If I'd lived another three weeks, I would have been twenty. I sat back down next to Clarissa, passed out in my grave in the wedge of space she'd carved out next to my coffin. A crowbar lay beside us, where she'd used it to pry off the lid, next to the pile of small stones she'd brought for the spell. I looked down at my fingernails, which were neat and manicured like they'd never been while I was alive, and I wondered if I should try to wake Clarissa up. I'd seen her do this before, after she overexerted herself on a spell, and she'd always been all right afterwards. Her pulse, when I checked, was steady, so I stole her phone out of her pocket instead. The last day I remembered had been the fifth of June. My tombstone told me I'd died on the sixth. Today was the seventeenth. I must have been buried for at least a week or so, then. I know my father would've wanted me buried quickly, a Jewish funeral. A good thing, too. No embalming fluid for Clarissa to deal with. Performing necromancy on humans was a felony, and it was horrendously, skin-crawlingly terrifying besides. The idea had made me queasy when it happened in books or movies, when TV pundits went on rants. But from this side of things, it wasn't so bad. My hands were distressingly pale when I looked at them, and my head was in bad shape, but when I checked my face in Clarissa's phone camera, I honestly looked okay. Like I'd been at a fancy party, had too much champagne, fell down in the dirt outside. Messed up, but not a zombie. I didn't feel dead at all. What I should feel was furious. I should be demanding that Clarissa take it back. But I wasn't betrayed that someone I loved would do such an awful thing, like the girl in that modern day Frankenstein blockbuster we'd seen last month. I wasn't thinking about the greater good. I was selfishly and vainly glad, because the girl I would do anything for had done this for me. I'd seen the faces Clarissa made during that stupid movie, and yet: here we both were. Her passed out in a grave she must have spent all night digging up, and me alive when I should be dead. I ran my fingers through her hair, and after fourteen minutes by the clock on her phone, Clarissa woke up. She stared at me, and then she sat up too fast and almost fell right back down afterwards. I grabbed her shoulders to steady her. "It worked," she said, watching me with wide eyes. "It did," I said. "You still look terrible." "Shut up," she said automatically, with no heat behind it. She put her hands against the sides of my face. I wondered, distantly, if my cheeks felt cold, or if my blood had already started to warm them up again. Very suddenly, Clarissa yanked me into a hug, almost overbalancing the both of us. I hugged her back, and politely ignored the fact that she was crying into the shoulder of my nice dress. "I'm okay," I said, because Clarissa probably needed to hear it. "If anyone isn't okay, I think it's probably you. Were you supposed to pass out?" Clarissa snorted, and then shrugged without removing her face from the crook of my neck. "Occupational hazard," she said, muffled into my shoulder. After a moment, she raised her face, eyes puffy and red. "It happens sometimes, with larger—with anything more substantial." She'd probably been about to say ‘animals.’ I guess she didn't think I'd find the comparison flattering. I felt a little sick. Clarissa wiped her face on her sleeve and shook out her hair, visibly trying to pull herself together. "We need to get out of here. The sun is supposed to rise in—" she fumbled for her phone before I handed it back to her, "—about ten minutes." I immediately felt better. Following Clarissa's plans was something I was used to. Together, we gathered up her things and climbed out of my grave, using her shovel to push the soil back as best we could, and we walked out of the cemetery together, the sun rising at our backs.   Clarissa had always known how to make loud and spectacular mistakes. Even as a kid, she made spellwork look easy. When we were ten, I watched her bring back our class's pet guinea pig. We all huddled around Clarissa, crouched in the dirt. She held a chunk of gravel in her hands and closed her eyes for a moment, and we were all sure that she was faking, that nothing would happen. Then the guinea pig got up, and we had to race to catch it. Afterwards, the other kids ran to show our teacher. I stayed behind with Clarissa. She was on her back, staring up at the sky, tossing the piece of playground gravel that tethered the guinea pig's life up and down in her hand. "That was amazing," I told her. She shrugged, and coughed. "I missed him. What else was I supposed to do?" Then she looked at me and grinned, smile so bright I could feel it in my own stomach. "It was cool, wasn't it?" Clarissa wore that little piece of playground gravel she'd used for the spell on a chain around her wrist, humming with warmth for as long as that guinea pig was still alive. She kept adding to the chain, too, doing stupid things like bringing back songbirds in the park, using chunks of gemstones she kept in her pockets to store their life. They all went out, eventually—necromancy wasn't a ticket to eternal life—but she did it often enough that there was always something warm on her bracelet, always a little piece of life hanging around her wrist. When we were nineteen, nine years after she brought that guinea pig back to life and two weeks before I woke up with her in my grave, Clarissa asked me to go with her to a protest. Necromancy unsettled people, but it wasn't really as uncommon as everyone thought it was. Clarissa had explained it to me once. It was just healing, in the end, and there were plenty of people who could do that. Except putting enough force behind the spell to draw someone back from death required more ability than almost anyone had. Back when she was ten, people laughed, and told her that soon, she would know better than to do frivolous things like resurrect dead class pets. Telling Clarissa she couldn’t do something was never a good idea; I could have told them that. When we got older, no one thought it was cute anymore. She scared people. Historically, necromancers didn't turn out well, if you looked at Rasputin or van Hohenheim or Countess Bathory. Healers were dicey enough, if you asked the kind of people who campaigned against them working in hospitals or making vaccines. The day I died, I was with Clarissa at a protest against a local bill that would prevent the teaching of magic in schools. I wasn't really into politics, honestly, but Clarissa was spitting mad. "What do they think is going to happen?" she'd said, pacing back in forth in my apartment kitchen. "Magic is so dangerous, right? Well, if they don't teach kids anything then of course they're going to screw up, of course there's going to be accidents—you know my cousin, the one who can light fires? Can you imagine if he had no formal training?" I sat at the kitchen table and nodded. "There's a protest on 39th and Blackwood tomorrow night. Think of it as an early birthday present for me?" She didn't have to ask me if I would go with her, and I didn't have to tell her that I was coming. It was understood. That was who I was: I did what Clarissa asked. My dad didn't want me to go, but I was nineteen, so I didn't have to sneak out my window, the way I always used to whenever Clarissa had a bad idea. "Be careful, May," was all my father said as I left, right after I gave him instructions on reheating his dinner. And once we got there, I was careful, up until some asshole from the other side of the picket pushed Clarissa, and she pushed him back, teeth bared. Then, suddenly I wasn't anymore. Clarissa was dangerous when she got mad, and she shrugged me off when I tried to drag her back. She started yelling at the man who'd pushed her, and there were people all around us, and Clarissa wasn't listening to anything that I was saying in her ear. "I know you," the man said to Clarissa. That wasn't very surprising; most people around here knew about Clarissa. He pushed her a second time, harder, and she would have fallen if I wasn't in her way. "Clarissa, leave it." I steadied the both of us and rubbed at the bruises forming on my arm where she'd run into me. She ignored me. "You got something to say?" she asked the man. He didn't. What he did have was a mean right hook but terrible aim, and what I had was no self-preservation: I shoved my way in front of Clarissa, and I went down hard. He was a bit like Clarissa, I think—he didn't know when to stop. The last thing I remember was his boot in my face, and a sudden, terrible fear that he was going to break my nose. Touching it now, I didn't think he did. I could feel the place in the back of my skull, under my hair, where he'd got me instead.   We got some odd looks at the diner Clarissa took us to. That made sense—we both had dirt in our hair and smudged on our faces, and beyond that we didn't look much like we belonged together. I was wearing what I thought of as my synagogue dress, complete with pearls around my neck, but also a beanie I'd pulled from Clarissa's bag. Clarissa was dressed like she expected to be going grave-digging, in baggy jeans and boots, her hair pulled back into a bun. She still looked like she might pass out at any moment. It was obvious she'd been crying. It was six in the morning at a twenty-four hour diner, though, so mostly everyone just ignored us. Clarissa ordered coffee and eggs. I ordered tea, matzah ball soup, and a slice of banana cream pie. Even exhausted, Clarissa raised an eyebrow at me. I ignored her. We had more important things to worry about. "Clarissa, what the hell are we going to do? I can't exactly go home." If my dad had any sense, which I happened to know that he did, he would call the cops in two seconds. Clarissa's family would certainly do the same. We didn't have anywhere to go. An awful feeling crept into my stomach. There was no way this was going to work. When my food came, the soup gave me pause: matzah ball soup was my dad's favorite. But I couldn't go home. I would never make it for him again. When I looked up, Clarissa was watching me. "It's better when you make it, right?" she asked. I laughed and went back to eating. Clarissa picked at her eggs, and I ended up finishing half of them for her. "Do we have somewhere to sleep, at least?" I asked. Clarissa looked like she was about to fall over again. "I'm fine," she said, swaying a bit, which was so very her that I couldn't help but smile. "Of course you are. I could use a nap, though." She sighed. "Alright. There's a motel nearby. We can rest there and then we can do whatever you want." "Me?" I'm not exactly the planning type. "What, there's nothing you want to do? No last requests?" I stared at my hands, clutched tight around my tea. I didn't want to get caught, or for Clarissa to go to jail, or to never see my father again. I wanted things to go back to the way they had always been. I wanted to be alive again, and what Clarissa had done was close to that. But not quite. "I just want to spend time with you," was what I settled on. She put her hands over mine, and tilted her head until I had to look her in the eyes. "Okay," she said, reassuring, like she'd heard all the things I hadn't said. "It's gonna be fine, May." Her voice was certain and steady like the stones wrapped around her wrist, and just then, I believed her.   Clarissa took the first shower, and was out like a light the minute her head hit the pillow. I grinned, and wasn't even bothered when I discovered that she'd used up all the hot water. At least that was normal. After I dried my hair, I lay back on the other bed, not particularly tired. I couldn't help but think that if I fell asleep, the spell would snap, like a wire drawn too taut, and I'd never wake up again. That wasn't how this worked: anything Clarissa brought back would live out its natural lifespan. That guinea pig had lived to a very respectable age. I still couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. So I sat cross-legged on the scratchy motel comforter and turned on the news, volume off and closed captioning on. Clarissa slept like a log once she was out, but if she woke up she'd probably refuse to sleep again. I knew what I was going to see on the TV screen, but I still couldn't help but wince, seeing my grainy prom photo on display. Somebody had noticed that the dirt on my grave wasn't quite how they'd left it, or that Clarissa had broken the lock on the gate, or maybe they'd just checked the damn CCTV, and so of course it was all over the news. Necromancy scandals were rare, because most necromancers didn't have enough power to do what Clarissa had done, and all the ones that did had enough sense not to. I flipped through the channels for a while. There was coverage about the protest where I'd died, suddenly relevant again two weeks later. The police were looking for us, of course. There wasn't any doubt in anybody's mind what had happened—Clarissa was locally well known. We were on the national news, too. I watched Megyn Kelly's mouth move silently as the subtitles talked about how this was just another example of the need for greater laws monitoring necromancers—scratch that, all magic. I turned the TV off before she could start talking about Jesus and I put my head in my hands. After a while, Clarissa sat down beside me on the bed and put her hand on my back. She was very warm. Her hand was shaking a little, and I wondered if she was crying. I wanted to turn and hug her, bury my face in her neck, tell her what a goddamn idiot she was being. Still, I couldn't help but treasure the thought that she was doing all these stupid, ridiculous things for me, just like I'd always wanted her to. "May?" she asked, hesitantly, when I didn't move. "Is everything okay?" I looked up at her and smiled as brightly as I could. "Of course," I said, as if the answer was obvious. She wasn't crying like I'd thought. Her hands just weren’t very steady. "Let's go. We really shouldn't stay here, Clarissa." Clarissa stood. I helped her pack up our stuff. Her stuff, mostly. Everything fit into a single backpack, which I shouldered, glaring at Clarissa when she tried to take it. I followed her out the door.   We checked out of the motel, but we didn't make it to the train station, although it was only a few blocks away. There were two problems: people kept looking at us, speculatively, as if they were sure they'd seen our faces somewhere, and after about five minutes of walking Clarissa nearly collapsed, because between one step and the next it seemed that her legs couldn't hold her. I grabbed her just before she went down, so we both stumbled but didn't quite fall. "Clarissa?" I tried to get my arm under hers so that I could hold her up. "I'm fine," she said, and it was less endearing this time around. "No, you're not." I dragged her into the nearest store, an ice cream shop. I dumped Clarissa in a booth in the corner, grabbed her wallet out of her pocket, and went to buy something, both because it would look suspicious not to, and also because we could probably use it. When the girl at the counter handed me my cup of ice cream, she also handed me a wad of napkins. "For your friend," she said, sympathetic. I looked back at Clarissa, confused. She had her fingers pressed above her mouth, and her nose was bleeding. I winced. "There's a free clinic a couple blocks over," the girl at the counter offered. "I think they have a few healers around at this time of day." I thanked her, and took the ice cream and napkins back to the table. I handed Clarissa the napkins and sat down across from her as she pressed them to her face where her fingers had been. "Thanks," she said, a little bit muffled. "Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the vinyl seat, napkins still pressed to her nose. "It's just a reaction to the spell," she said. "I'll be okay in a little while." "A reaction is you sick with a cold for a week," I said, a little harsher than I intended. Clarissa opened her eyes. "This is different. I'm not stupid. It's never been this bad before." "Well, why do you think that is, May?" Clarissa snapped. "I've never done something like this before. I knew this might happen, so don't worry about it, okay? I have it under control." A thin stream of blood was leaking out from under the napkins. I grabbed another one off the table and leaned in to wipe it off for her. "Clearly," I said, and she glared at me. "You're going back to bed," I decided, and Clarissa sat forward so fast she probably made her nosebleed worse. "Absolutely not," she said. "You were right. We have to leave." I looked at her, sitting across the table and trembling. I didn't think she noticed she was doing it. I wanted to reach out to her and hold her. "We can stay for another night," I said. "There's something I need to get before we go, anyway. I can sneak into my apartment and grab it tonight, and you can rest, and we can leave in the morning. Okay?" She nodded, and didn't even ask what it was I needed so badly. It felt like there was a stone sinking in my gut. Clarissa was always asking questions, demanding answers. I wasn't used to being the one who had to protect her and I wasn't sure I liked it. I took her arm and led her out of the shop, so we could find another place to stay for the night, and Clarissa let herself be led.   I left Clarissa at the new motel and I walked home. The apartment wasn't far, but it was hot, and I was still wearing Clarissa's beanie and my velvet dress. When I got there, I went up the fire escape and climbed in my window, like I'd done so many times when I was younger. I hadn't seen my dad's car in the lot, and it was the middle of the day, so I had to hope that he wasn't home. My bedroom hadn't been touched. I grabbed some clothes and some money, shoving them into my backpack, and I didn't let myself spend too much time looking around. I'd left the book that I'd come for on the bookcase in the living room, although I had no way of knowing if it was still there. It was supposed to be my birthday present for Clarissa. She was always complaining about the lack of materials on necromancy, because almost all of them were rare or illegal or both, so I'd stalked eBay for a few months to get an old book for her. I didn't understand half of the information in it, but surely there was something in there that could help her. I had to at least look. When I walked into the living room, I heard a crash from the kitchen before I'd taken two steps. For a moment I thought my heart had stopped again, but it kept beating, much faster and louder than I liked. I pressed back against the wall the living room shared with the kitchen and prayed that whoever was home didn't walk in here. God, I shouldn't have come. Of all the stupid things I'd ever done for Clarissa, the one she didn't even ask for was what was finally going to screw us over. There was another clang from the kitchen. This one was the telltale sound of my father knocking over a pan while he was cooking. By reflex, I almost offered to help him, but I clamped my hand over my mouth and kept quiet. I shouldn't have bothered. I knew exactly what was going to happen next: my dad would curse, and throw the pan in the sink, and go to find a hand towel from the linen closet. Which was in the living room, of course, where I stood. I tried to step back into my bedroom before my father walked in, but there wasn't any time. I dropped my hand and bit my lip and desperately tried to think of what in the world I was going to tell him. The moment my father caught sight of me, I knew. The change in his face was immediate. I wanted to speak first, head off whatever he was going to say, but the words stuck in my throat like dirt. I choked and I said nothing. It felt like I'd been here before, and it took me a moment to realize why. My frozen feet and the sick feeling in my stomach and the words trapped in my throat, the thought that if I moved or spoke or did anything that he would hate me—I had done this before. I'd been thirteen when I'd come out. But back then, I'd known, deep down, that he wouldn't care. This time I knew that he would. "So it's true," he said. He folded and unfolded his arms, uncomfortable as I'd ever seen him. I wondered if he would stop me if I tried to leave. I couldn't make my legs move. "Dad." He took off his glasses and rubbed at his nose, and I closed my eyes against the tears fighting to escape. I didn't think I'd ever see him do that again. When I was thirteen, my father had opened his arms wide and hugged me, letting me hide my face in his chest. Now we stood apart, the few feet between us impassable. There was nothing stopping me from stepping forward and closing the gap. But I couldn't do it. If I did, he might step back. "I knew that girl was trouble," he said, looking not quite at me but at the space above my left shoulder. It was a trick he'd taught me for public speaking, a long time ago. I looked him in the eyes. "She's not," I said, and at least this conversation was familiar. We'd spoken this way about Clarissa hundreds of times. It’s awful, to have to admit that your parents were right. It didn't matter that Clarissa was trouble. It didn't matter that she'd made a mistake, was always making mistakes. She was still my friend. "I miss you," he said, and on the last word his voice broke. I wondered what it was like to have something you loved in front of you, wanting it with all your heart, and still knowing that you couldn't keep it. Then again, maybe I didn't have to wonder. "I'm right here, Dad," I said. "I'm the same as I was two weeks ago." He shook his head. "You're not. If you are, I'm going to have to bury you twice." I couldn't help it. I was stung. Who was I, if I wasn't me? I turned my face away, looking at the book sitting where I had left it on the mantle, and I said, "I miss you too." Dad looked at the book when I picked it up. "For Clarissa," he said, barely a question. I nodded. "Please don't call anyone," I said. "Clarissa was just—she's my friend. They'll never let her go." His jaw worked. "And you?" I did my best to smile. "I'll be fine. She'll take care of me." In the end, he nodded, and the last thing my father said to me was, "Goodbye." And I suppose that's more than most people get. I left the way I'd come, book clutched close to my chest.   I went back to the motel and settled on the rickety chair in the corner. Clarissa was still asleep, and I looked down at her present, sitting in my lap. The book was old and faded, pages falling out of its leather cover. I flipped through it. I'd spent a lot of time imagining the face Clarissa would make when I gave it to her. I tried to imagine Clarissa's expression if I told her that I'd gone home just to get a book on the off-chance that it might be able to help her, and I had to stop myself from laughing. I wished I hadn't seen my father. I'd known that I couldn't go back, but seeing him threw everything into sharp relief: my father would never hug me again, never smile at me, never tell me that everything would be all right. Clarissa had brought me back, and I meant what I'd said to him. I was still me. But except for her, my life was gone. Once, I would have thought that Clarissa would be enough. But now, I couldn't stop thinking of my father's face, of all the things he'd never say again. I looked down the book, opened it to the first page, and started to read.   Clarissa was still asleep when I finished. I curled up next to her on the blanket and closed my eyes and listened to her breathe. Her breathing wasn't very steady. She was shaking a little, even in her sleep, and her skin was so pale you'd think that she was the dead one. I was so stupid, thinking for even a minute that this could work, and so was Clarissa. I lay there for hours, fighting off sleep and watching her shake, until her eyes fluttered open and she looked straight at me. "Hey," she said, a little muzzily. I couldn't decide if I wanted to kiss her or hit her, so I asked her how she was feeling instead. "Fine," Clarissa said, struggling to sit up. I sat up too and put my face in my hands. "Did you find what you wanted?" she asked, sliding an arm around my shoulders, like I was the one who needed comforting. But she was warm, and I couldn't bring myself to shake her off. "Not really," I said, thinking of what I'd found in that book of hers. "Clarissa, what exactly are you hoping to get out of this, really?" We hadn't spoken about it, exactly, but it hung suspended between us: my existence was an abomination and a disgrace, and Clarissa was the same for making it happen. There was no place for us anywhere anymore. And there was another thing we hadn't talked about. I took a deep breath, and forced the words out: "Clarissa, this is killing you." She didn't seem surprised, which was the worst part of it, really. She'd known all along what she was doing to herself, and she did it anyway. It was just the stupid sort of thing Clarissa would do, knowing the consequences and not caring. Clarissa never knew when to stop. I loved her so much. She didn't say anything. I tipped my head back to stare at the ceiling. "I can't believe you," I said thickly. "I don't want you to die for me." "Well, I didn't want you to die," Clarissa said. "And you did anyway, and it was because of me. You can't expect me to just let that happen, not when I could—what's the point of all this, of all this shit I can do, if I couldn't help you? What was I supposed to do?" Her eyes were bloodshot and watery and she was trembling still, her hair falling in her face, and she was so, so beautiful. "Clarissa," I said. "Look. I just don't see how you think this is going to end." She looked at me, brow furrowed. "We'll figure something out," she said. "We'll catch a train tomorrow, and we'll keep running, and they'll have to stop looking eventually, and as long as we stay together, we'll be fine." She believed it, too. She wouldn't have said it if she didn't. We wouldn't be fine. Even if we never got caught, Clarissa's hands wouldn't stop shaking, her nose wouldn't stop bleeding, her teeth wouldn't stop chattering. I was killing her every minute I was alive. And no matter what, neither of us could ever go home. Clarissa hated being told she couldn't do something--the fact that I was here at all was proof of that. Sometimes, she just needed someone to stop her, if she wouldn't stop herself. I took her face in both my hands and I kissed her. It was funny. Since I'd met her, I could never remember a time when I didn't love Clarissa. I don't know why it never occurred to me, before all this, that she might be as hopeless for me as I was for her. She kissed me back. Of course she did. She kissed me back, because she'd broken every law of magic, was working herself literally to death, just to keep me with her. I sat beside her on the crappy motel bed, her hands in my hair, and felt her breath against my cheek. I closed my eyes against it and willed myself not to cry. She settled back on the bed, and I curled up beside her, so we were lying face to face. Clarissa breathed in deep, tucked her nose against the crook of my neck. "I thought I lost you," she said quietly. "I couldn't do nothing, May, you know I couldn't." I pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead and held her hand, the one that had her bracelet, and I didn't say anything at all. Maybe it had all been worth it, for the chance to have this with Clarissa. Even for just a moment. She fell asleep with my hand running through hair, and I stole her bracelet. Some of the stones on it were cool, inert, and some were faintly warm, and the uneven chunk of amethyst that I knew had to be me was hot to the touch. The stone was rough; I could see the places on her wrist where it had cut into her skin. I untied the knot on the cord and pulled the amethyst off. I rummaged through the pile of our things in the corner until I found the crowbar from my grave. At the rickety table, I took out the book and opened it to the right section. I tucked the train ticket I'd bought for Clarissa between the pages and I left the other things I'd taken from my home for her: hair dye, a hat, baggy clothes, sunglasses, five hundred dollars from the emergency fund in my closet. Not much, but it might be enough to keep her free. And maybe Clarissa could have what I couldn't. I looked at the book again. I guess I should have known that reversing the spell would be so simple. All I had to do was break the stone, and the connection would sever. Clarissa would be fine. The crowbar was heavy in my hands. I turned it over a few times before I raised it over my head. I thought about my father, about all the years of kissing Clarissa I'd missed out on, about how angry and hurt she would be when she woke up. I thought of how Clarissa wanted so badly to protect everyone else, how desperately I wanted to be the one to save her, how she refused to let me, even when I'd died. Clarissa wanted me to live badly enough to destroy her entire life, and I was so used to wanting what Clarissa wanted. I'd tried to want what she wanted this time. I couldn't. I didn't want this. Mostly, though, I thought of the scratches the stone that tethered my soul had made on Clarissa's wrist, of her dying to keep me here. I looked at the amethyst and smiled, and I brought the crowbar down. END   “Gravedigging” was originally published in Cicada and is © Copyright Sarah Goldman 2017. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes. You can also pick up a free audio book by going to www.audibletrial.com/glittership or buy your own copy of the Spring 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a GlitterShip original, “Sabuyashi Flies" by Sebastian Strange.

Episode 65 is part of the Spring 2018 issue! Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/   A Memory of Wind Susan Jane Bigelow   Yeni looked up at the right time, just for a single moment, and she saw a girl fly past far overhead. No one else in the wide dome of Center Garden, the bustling, cavernous heart of the greatship, noticed. Yeni had to run to catch up with her mother, who walked a few steps ahead. “Did you see?” she demanded. “A flying girl!” “Don’t lie,” her mother said tiredly.   [Full story after the cut.]   Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 65. Today we have a reprint of "A Memory of Wind" by Susan Jane Bigelow to finish off the episodes from the Spring 2018 issue of GlitterShip. Susan Jane Bigelow is the author of the Extrahumans series, the LGBT YA novel The Demon Girl’s Song and numerous short stories. Her Grayline Sisters trilogy will be released by Book Smugglers Publishing in 2018. She lives in Connecticut, where she is a librarian and political columnist/commentator, with her wife and too many cats. "A Memory of Wind" was narrated by A.J. Fitzwater. A.J. Fitzwater is a dragon wearing a human meat suit from Christchurch, New Zealand. A graduate of Clarion 2014, she’s had stories published in Shimmer Magazine, Andromeda Spaceways Magazine, and in Paper Road Press’s At The Edge anthology. She also has stories coming soon at Kaleidotrope and PodCastle. As a narrator, her voice has been heard across the Escape Artists Network, on Redstone SF, and Interzone. She tweets under her penname as @AJFitzwater.     A Memory of Wind Susan Jane Bigelow   Yeni looked up at the right time, just for a single moment, and she saw a girl fly past far overhead. No one else in the wide dome of Center Garden, the bustling, cavernous heart of the greatship, noticed. Yeni had to run to catch up with her mother, who walked a few steps ahead. “Did you see?” she demanded. “A flying girl!” “Don’t lie,” her mother said tiredly. Long after, her mother claimed she’d never even heard her say this, much less that she’d seen anything. But Yeni had seen, and she remembered.   Yeni pulled the handle with all the strength of her twenty-two years. Sweat trickled into her eyes, and her muscles cried out in pain. “Just a little more!” grunted Shan, and then the door gave way at last, opening out into the deserted corridor. They fell back, astonished. “See?” Yeni said, puffing and wiping the smooth top of her head with the sleeve of her tunic. “It’s here. Just like the story said.” A ladder. Shan looked worried. “I don’t know. This is a bad idea. We’re going to get caught.” “Don’t get scared on me now,” snapped Yeni. “Who’s gonna catch us? There’s nobody in this section.” He looked up into the darkness, then back at her. “This is our chance,” she insisted. “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind.”   She followed Shan up, keeping a close ear out for anything or anyone coming up behind them. They’d both turned their implants down to the lowest level, so they only did things like regulate heartbeats, monitor vital signs, and give them better night vision. The parts that told the ship where they were and what they were doing were off, now; disabled through an old trick Shan had dug up. Anyone looking for them would think they were back in their shared quarters in Supardy Forward. “I think we’re three decks up,” said Shan. He’d reached a ledge with a door, and was sitting on it. She climbed up next to him. “So this must be it.” “The door has dents in it,” she said wonderingly. “And… are those scorch marks?” Shan pointed at the shaft around them. It was riddled with holes and burn marks. “We’re here,” she said, standing. “Bunda Forward.”   They walked slowly, reverently, into the destroyed section. Numbers fed into Yeni’s vision: sensor scans and her own vital signs. “Fifty years,” whispered Shan into the heavy darkness. “I’m not getting any radiation.” “No,” murmured Yeni. “Because it was all a lie. Look around.” The Bunda Incident had happened when their parents were young, and the only stories they told were of some kind of terrible accident that had resulted in the section being sealed, the Lord Captain taking tighter control of the greatship, and the end of a thousand years of civilian rule. Some people had written down different stories, though, and Yeni had hunted those stories down one after another. Those stories spoke of riots and rebellion, and ShipOps sweeping in to purge the greatship of the last of the Select Board and their supporters, sealing the section behind them. But when they made subtle, discreet inquiries of the people who had written the stories, they blinked at them and shook their heads. It was an accident, they said with perfect sincerity. Why would you think otherwise? Memory was a funny thing. Humans were so fallible and breakable, brains leaked information like sieves. Even Shan seemed to forget important things from time to time, and she had to remind him. It was like that with the access door. She and Shan had found a story written on a singed sheet of plastic detailing where the access ladder from Supardy up to Bunda Forward that ShipOps had used was. He hadn’t wanted to come, he didn’t see the point. He didn’t even remember the door, or what was so important about Bunda Forward to begin with. She reminded him, patient as always. Yeni was used to people forgetting. She held fast to her own memories, sure that someday she, too, would forget. She left notes for herself everywhere, written down in plastic so they couldn’t be changed. She had yet to need them, but someday she knew she would. She recorded everything with her implant, filing it all away to use later. “See here,” she murmured. “Symbols of the old government. And this name? I think she was on the Select Board. It was true, Shan! The stories were true.” She pointed to the scorch marks on the wall, and the brown stains on the floor. “There was a battle here. It wasn’t an accident.” She felt a little tickle at the back of her mind, an odd sense that she sometimes got. It usually didn’t mean anything, but here… it felt dangerous, somehow. She stood and looked around. “Shan?” He was a few meters away, looking blankly at a wall. “Shan!” She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. He blinked. “Yeni? We should go home.” “Not now,” she insisted. “You can’t do this now. We’re in Bunda Forward. We came here just now. Remember!” He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. I have to go home.” He got up and started to run towards the end of the hall. “Wait!” she cried, and sprinted after him. There was an open door. A lift tube, filled with an anti-gravity field that would gently bring you up or down, depending on where you wanted to go. But this section was sealed off. There was no power, and no field. And if Shan didn’t remember that— Yeni shrieked in horror as he plunged over the edge. And then she scrambled back as a woman rose smoothly up the tube, carrying a limp Shan in her arms. She said nothing, but smiled at Yeni. The words hello again formed distinctly in her mind.   The woman had already carried Shan down, and now she waited for Yeni, her arms wide. She was beautiful, Yeni thought longingly. Her body was rounded but muscular, her cheeks were high-set, and her eyes deep and expressive. Yeni thought she had a tattoo of some kind on her head until she realized with a shock that the woman had grown hair. She watched Yeni with a touch of bemusement. “How can I trust you?” Yeni whispered into the pregnant stillness of Bunda Forward. The woman made no sound in reply. She only waited, her arms spread, for Yeni to come to her. A sense of welcome and safe drifted across the empty space. Hesitantly, Yeni stepped out to her, her arms grabbing hold of the flying woman’s narrow waist and shoulders. She felt her arms twine around her back. They began to slowly descend. Her skin smelled like the plants in Center Garden. Yeni lay her head against the woman’s shoulder as they drifted down into darkness. “Who are you?” she wondered. “What’s your name?” In response there was a wild, almost chaotic sense of brightness, greenness, and of a stiff, constant breeze—the kind Yeni had rarely ever felt here on the greatship. There was a word for that, she thought, from long ago when the greatship had still docked at planets to trade. Wind.   When they reached the bottom of the tube, Wind gently released Yeni. “I saw you,” she said, voice trembling. “Years ago. Everyone forgot. I didn’t, though. It was you, wasn’t it?” In response, Wind’s serene face lit up into a grin. “It was you! You… you taught me to look for things everyone else was ignoring,” said Yeni, the words pouring out of her. “That things aren’t what they seem to be. I remembered you.” Wind clapped her hands, then leaned in to give Yeni a quick, electric kiss before rocketing back up into the darkness of the lift shaft. Yeni watched her go, heart pounding. She could still feel Wind’s lips on hers long after.   Shan fell away from Yeni after that. He denied ever being anywhere near Bunda Forward, he didn’t remember Wind at all, and even started to forget who Yeni was. He drifted back to classes and his old friends, leaving Yeni on her own. She felt more and more like a guest in their shared rooms. One day she came back from her job as a vent cleaner to find their quarters blocked off by ShipOps. Shan was talking to them, and she caught her name. She caught her breath, heart shattering. Then, not knowing what else to do, she sprinted in the other direction.   She found someone in a nearby section who could input new codes into her implant, so that anyone looking would think she was someone else. She also acquired the ability to turn the beacon on and off whenever she pleased. It was just a start—the implants couldn’t be completely removed because of danger to the nervous system—but it was better than nothing. Yeni began to wander the emptiness of the greatship alone. She needed little food or water; her body had been bioengineered to survive. She needed only herself. And, she told herself, the solitude suited her. She didn’t mind being the woman everyone forgot. She didn’t mind being nobody. But during the night cycles she found herself curled in a far corner of the greatship, feeling as empty as the corridors.   She broke into places left empty for long decades, using the tubes and tunnels reserved for ShipOps. Her mother had been ShipOps, and she’d shown her daughter some of the ways around the greatship only they knew. That had been before a tunnel had swallowed her up, one day. Another accident, they said. So many accidents. Yeni found levels below the ones she knew, below the ones anyone had even suspected. She found what looked like massive landing gear at the very bottom of the ship, and a marvelous, grimy window that looked out onto the cold vastness of space. She thought she would find ShipOps around every corner, waiting for her, but she didn’t. They were nowhere in sight. They never came after her. The only place she couldn’t go was the Red Pearl, the heavily guarded plaza in Center Garden where the Lord Captain and the commanders of ShipOps sat. This was where they made the decisions that determined where the greatship went on its endless journey through space, and where they ruled its population of five hundred million humans. It was the heart of everything. But Yeni had no desire to go there. Whoever went to Red Pearl never came back.   A few conclusions began to penetrate the fog of loneliness and heartbreak that surrounded Yeni. There were not five hundred million people living aboard the greatship. There couldn’t be; where would they all be? Yeni knew how to calculate, and she knew that her own home section of Supardy, one of the more full sections, had only about five thousand. Many sections were simply empty. Every official account said there were five hundred million, though. Those numbers never changed, and no one else seemed to think they were wrong. But as she wandered long, empty corridors that wound through section after section, she knew they had to be. The greatship was full of nothing but ghosts and ruins. She found the remains of sections long since abandoned. She traced her fingers over the mosaics on the walls, sat by the dormant fountains, and picked through the remains of gardens, all while that little sense of danger-change-danger constantly tickled the back of her mind. But she could tell that many of these sections had been inhabited once, maybe a century ago. She found dates on some of the mosaics and in names scrawled on the floors. Sometimes she found other things, too. Like ancient scorch marks, or pieces of plastic with strange symbols on them. We fight, they said. And we will die for what we believe. Where had everyone gone? What had happened? She kept walking. She looked everywhere, poking her nose in and out of every corner. Yeni told herself she was trying to find the truth, to piece together what had become of everyone, but it was more than that. At night she dreamed of warm skin that smelled like gardens, and arms tight around her as they flew together through the air.   And then one day she was walking through yet another massive, empty open square, picking through garbage and absorbing the beautiful, solemn silence, when there was a gust of wind and the sound of feet hitting the ground. Yeni turned, and there she was. She wore a bodysuit several shades darker than her deep brown skin, and her hair had grown. It was straight, and neared her shoulders. Yeni fought the urge to touch it, to smell it. “You,” she whispered, her heart leaping. Wind smiled, and held out a hand. Yeni felt her welcome before the words formed in her mind. Hello again. “I’ve been looking for you,” said Yeni. Joy. Anticipation. And I for you. Yeni stepped forward, trembling, aware of her own heartbeat, her own breathing. “You remember me?” Wind took her hand. Then her strong arms were around her again, and they were in the air.   They shot through vacant corridors and access tubes at dizzying speed. Yeni tightened her grip on Wind, pressing her head against the softness of her chest. In response, the woman gave her a quick, reassuring squeeze. They flew up and up, then through an open space, then up again and into another dark access tunnel. At last they alighted atop a promontory high above a circle of lights. Yeni looked down, dizzy, and clawed away from the edge. Center Garden, she realized once her heart stopped pounding. It was the night cycle, and and she could see the lights of the open plazas at the heart of the greatship below. “You… why? Why did you come for me?” But Wind only smiled. “You don’t talk at all?” Wind slowly shook her head no. But then a thought slowly congealed in Yeni’s mind. You saw me, long ago. You remembered. “Yes,” said Yeni. “I know. You… you remember too? I don’t meet many people who remember. I…” Yeni felt other things from Wind then. Loneliness. Longing. Hope. And more. Yeni didn’t hesitate. She leaned into the woman, inhaled that rich garden scent, and kissed her.   They sat high above the gleaming lights of Center Garden for hours, curled together, until the night ebbed and the day cycle began. Then Wind gathered Yeni into her arms again and leapt from the promontory. Yeni shrieked in alarm, but of course they didn’t fall. Instead, they sailed out high above the great open area below. Yeni could see the ceiling above, so close now, and the buildings and gardens below. She could even see Red Pearl at the core of everything. She feared Wind might bring her back to where she’d found her, or even back to Supardy or even Bunda Forward. But instead she dove into a narrow access tube, and then there was darkness and the rush of air until they were somewhere new. She alighted outside an ancient door, painted with symbols Yeni couldn’t even begin to decipher. Wind pointed. “In there?” asked Yeni. The woman nodded. Yeni could sense something like urgency coming from her. “Why?” Because you remembered me. She gathered her courage and opened the door. There was a small room inside, filled with old equipment. At the center was a tank of some kind of solution, illuminated by a ghostly green light. Suspended within was the naked body of a woman. She was small, and her hair formed a halo around her head. Yeni touched her own bald scalp, and thought of Wind. Most humans had stopped growing hair a long time ago. The woman opened her eyes. “Hello,” said a loudspeaker. “I am the greatship.”   Yeni sat on the floor, battling confusion. “But you can’t be.” “At the heart of every greatship is someone like me,” the greatship said through the loudspeakers. Her lips didn’t move, and her eyes seemed like they were looking somewhere else. But her attention was riveted to Yeni, nonetheless. “Someone to be a guide, a living mind to contain the will of the ship.” “So… you’re a computer?” “Nothing so crude,” the woman—the greatship— said. “A vessel so vast can hardly help but become aware. My purpose is to be its consciousness. This is the bargain we struck with the Intres, long ago. This is the gift of Great Yea, long lost to the universe.” Yeni didn’t understand any of what she was saying. None of it made sense to her. “What do you mean ‘every’ greatship?” she asked, plucking one fact out that made sense. “There are others?” “Oh, yes. There were hundreds of us, once. My poor child,” said the greatship. “You’ve forgotten so much.” “No!” said Yeni fiercely. “I don’t forget anything! I’m the only one who doesn’t forget.” “Ah,” said the greatship. “Yes. I know. That’s why I asked Wind to bring you here.” “Me? Why?” “We need your help, Yeni.” “What?” asked Yeni. “You must be joking. My help?” “Yes.” “Why me? I’m nobody! I’m just a hallway rat. A creeper. I don’t have a job anymore, I have no function. I’m dead weight.” “You are no such thing. We need you because you’re like us,” said the greatship. “You’re like Wind, and you’re like me.” Yeni turned to Wind, who stood watching them intently in the door. “But… you fly,” she said helplessly. “And you speak with your mind. How am I anything like you?” Wind put a hand on her forehead, and Yeni heard words in her mind again. Because you remember. Foreign images flickered through her mind. Implants… men in a room… war… decisions. Forgetting. Implants; everyone had them. But when someone decided that they should forget something, all it took was a simple, silent command sent from Red Pearl. “People let things slip away from their memories,” said the greatship. “But you don’t. Your mind is different.” Yeni stood silent, not daring to admit to anything. “Long ago,” said the greatship. “There were people who could do things you’d think of as amazing, now. We could fly. We could heal ourselves in an instant. We were faster and stronger than humans. But there were so few of us. Eventually, there were only a handful, and even those died out. I was the last born; there were no more after me. But I always believed that someday, if we were careful, that these abilities would return to some of us again. Wind is the first of the new ones born. You were the second.” “But… I can’t fly or any of that,” protested Yeni. “I’m nobody!” She was Yeni, the woman who slipped through the cracks. The woman her own lover had stopped remembering. “I’m nobody,” she insisted. The greatship’s human body stirred. Her eyes focused on Yeni. “You’re anything but. You remember. They can’t touch you. That’s why I need you,” she said. “Why?” “I’m dying. I must be repaired. We must try to save everyone before it’s too late.”   Wind walked on her own two feet, hand-in-hand with Yeni though the wide plazas and gardens near Red Pearl. All around, the people of Center Garden came and went, oblivious. There had to be thousands of people packed into this place. It was possible to believe, here at the heart of everything, that the greatship was still full. The greatship herself had said otherwise. Yeni had been right; there were once hundreds of millions more here. But then there had been a terrible civil war aboard the greatship, and a full tenth of the population had been killed. After that, most of the survivors had left the greatship’s smothering embrace to seek new lives on new worlds. Millions and millions had left, until at last the Lord Captain forbade them to dock at planets altogether. And so, section by section, systems had been shut down to save energy. The remaining people had been consolidated into a dwindling number of places. The greatship herself calculated that there were fewer than a hundred thousand aboard, now. When the Select Board had objected to more shutdowns, the Lord Captain and ShipOps had eliminated them at Bunda Forward. Yeni and Wind approached the forbidding, heavily guarded gates of Red Pearl. The greatship had told them that she could help somewhat, that she could from time to time subvert ShipOps’s protocols, but that over the centuries the Lords Captain had ensured that she could do very little on her own. She could, however, open a certain door for a certain period of time. They walked around the curving perimeter of Red Pearl until they found it; an almost seamless door set into the red wall. They waited. Yeni’s hand felt small and warm in Wind’s. She thought of the stunner in one pocket, and the small data crystal with navigation orders on it in the other. “I’m glad you found me,” said Yeni softly. “I’m glad you remember.” Wind smiled at her, and squeezed her hand. Yeni could see no fear or nervousness in her eyes. And then the door made a small beeping sound, and slid open. Wind dashed through, dragging Yeni behind.   Red Pearl was a labyrinth of connecting corridors, all of them full. ShipOps was all around them. At first no one took notice of them as they navigated the outer layers. Their implants had been tuned to broadcast an “It’s okay for us to be here” signal to ShipOps.  But as they moved farther in towards the heart of Red Pearl, they were stopped and questioned more and more. At last, their cover story about delivering certain documents to an office somewhere in the complex failed them, and they were surrounded. Yeni fingered the stunner she had hidden in her pocket. She could set it off, and everyone around her would collapse—including Wind. Then she’d have to run alone to the center of the complex to find a place where they could connect the data crystal to the greatship’s navigation systems. When that happened, the greatship could take control, and guide them to a planet where they could be repaired. She tensed, readying the stunner. But Wind put a hand on Yeni’s arm. Not yet. And she rose into the air. The ShipOps people gaped at her, then all looked off into the distance. Yeni felt that same little tickle at the back of her mind. Confused, the ShipOps people wandered away. Wind gave Yeni a triumphant grin, then rocketed off down a now-empty corridor. Understanding dawned, and Yeni laughed. Wind was the kind of thing that merited an automatic memory purge. It had happened to her mother, once, long ago, and then to Shan. She might be that herself, now, she thought as she hurried after Wind.   They encountered no additional resistance. The corridors leading to the navigation center were entirely empty. Yeni began to panic as they traversed one empty hall after another. It shouldn’t be like this, not here in the heart of the greatship! At last a set of doors opened in front of them, and they were suddenly drawn into a bright room by a strong gust. The doors slammed shut behind them. A lone figure sat at the center of the room, surrounded by monitors, input devices, and complex equipment. She recognized him at once; he was the one person aboard who would never, ever be forgotten, “So you’ve arrived,” the Lord Captain said. He was ancient and wizened, his skin dry and sagging. “I knew it as soon as she opened her door in the wall.” Yeni gathered herself and stepped forward, anger spiking. “You—you’re the one who changed everyone’s memory. You’re why they forgot so much!” He shook his head. “It was necessary.” “How could it possibly have been necessary!” Yeni exclaimed. “You don’t understand,” he said scornfully. “You’re just children. You can’t comprehend how it was, during the wars. Millions died in the last civil war; the greatship was nearly destroyed. And then when I acted to preserve what little was left after war and exile, they fought me again! More war and death. So I did what I had to do. I made them forget.” “Not me,” said Yeni defiantly, feeling brave. Wind’s hand tensed around hers; she ignored it. “I remember. You can’t make me forget.” “There are other ways of forgetting,” said the Lord Captain. “But tell me, young ones, what’s worse? Another war, filled with suffering and death, or a whole greatship full of happy people who forget things from time to time? Which is the greater evil?” “She’s dying,” said Yeni. “The greatship. You have to find a planet where we can be fixed. There are repairs she has to have!” He shook his head, a hollow look in his eyes. “I can’t do that. People would leave. Others would come aboard. The wars would start again. So many would die… so many.” He looked at them with his sad, heavy eyes. “The Select Board thought I was evil, as well. A monster.” He tapped his head. “But I remembered the wars. I remembered the bitterness, the thirst for blood and vengeance. It fed off itself, until it would explode in fire and death. There was no way to ever stop it… until I had an idea. I thought—what if we simply forgot what divides us?” He banged his fist on the arm of his chair. “I have saved us.” “But she’s dying!” insisted Yeni. “She told you that,” said the Lord Captain, his eyes narrowing. “But she lies. She would do anything to undermine me. She despises me, and all of the Lords Captain who have dared try and exert their will against her. I’ve had to act to neutralize her. It’s my job to protect this ship. I was born to protect this ship!” He stood, wobbling, and then he spread his arms and lifted off the ground. Yeni gasped. “I will protect us!” he bellowed. The room seemed to hum with the buildup of electricity. A bolt of lightning singed the ground near Yeni. She screamed and dove for cover. Then there was a terrible scream unlike anything Yeni had never heard before. Wind! She streaked through the air, smashing square into the Lord Captain’s chest,and carrying him across the room. They crashed into the wall, and then he was above her. Lightning struck Wind over and over again. “No!” cried Yeni, thumbing the stunner’s trigger.   Wind and the Lord Captain both lay inert on the ground. Wind’s breathing was shallow and ragged, but she was alive. The Lord Captain had landed hard, and his own breathing was far more labored. His legs were splayed at a funny angle, and his ancient head was covered in bruises. Somewhere she heard a distant alarm sound. “Greatship,” whispered Yeni. She withdrew the data crystal. “Did you lie to me?” There was no response. The greatship couldn’t talk to her here. She might not even be able to see her, here in the middle of Red Pearl. The Lord Captain had been right about the war. It had really happened. Did she really want to bring back war and strife? Did she dare? Her hand hovered by the interface. All she had to do was insert the crystal, and the greatship would have control. They’d make for the nearest planet with facilities to fix the many things that had gone wrong. The greatship’s engines were magnificent and powerful; they’d be there in only a few weeks. “You said Wind was the first,” she said. “And I was the second. But that can’t be true. Did you not know about the Lord Captain? Or did you keep it from me?” She called up the navigation system. It was all open to her, here in the room. There was a star system with a habitable planet nearby. They had drifted towards the edge of the galaxy, where few  of the galaxy’s hundreds of sentient races lived. There was a small colony of humans on one side of it, and no repair facilities in orbit. The other side was empty. They could be there in less than a day. Wind groaned from nearby. Yeni looked over at her. Soon the Lord Captain would rise, as well. She had to act quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, not sure who she was addressing. Wind? The greatship? The Lord Captain? Herself? “This can’t continue. We can’t live as a people who always forget. We can’t go back to fighting in the corridors. We… we must start again.” She input the command. The greatship seemed to shudder and moan as it changed course. Yeni sat next to Wind, stroking her hair as she stirred into wakefulness, and waited.   Brilliant sunlight fell on her shoulders and head, and her skin pimpled as a cold breeze buffeted her. The sky was so empty, no ceiling above! Some people screamed and cried as they made their way from the dead hulk of the greatship, but some wept with joy.High above, Wind flew in great looping circles. Yeni could hear her joyous laughter, and smiled to herself. They would remember her now, thought Yeni. They would remember both of them. She guided a slight woman dressed in a simple robe over the uneven ground. She walked unsteadily and hesitantly, as if her limbs hadn’t seen use in thousands of years. “How do you feel?” asked Yeni. The woman looked back at the massive ruin of the greatship. The wind stirred her long dark hair, and she swayed back and forth in the breeze. “Smaller,” she said at last.   END  

What does it take to be CyberAware? What can we learn from the cybercriminals? What can we learn from each other? Everyone has a success story and everyone has a failure; how can we leverage these to extract a valuable learning lesson? Sean Martin chats with Jenny Radcliffe and Mikko Hypponen to hear what they’ve learned as they’ve engaged with users, companies, countries, and law enforcement from around the world. To kick things off, Sean chats with Jenny Radcliffe. While Jenny gets to do some fantastic work in the social engineering world, she also hosts a successful podcast series, The People Hacker, which connects her with some of the top information security professionals from around the world. During their chat, one of the more poignant points that Jenny makes is that there isn’t a one-size-fits-all answer to how people and companies should approach cybersecurity and privacy. After chatting with Jenny, Sean connected with Mikko who just got off stage telling stories of cyber fraud and hacking — two different things, by the way — while sharing pictures of the tracksuit hackers: Charlie Miller and Chris Valasek. Mikko takes a clear view for cybersecurity in that it needs to be a permanent topic at the top management level of every leadership team and every board, regardless of company size. The reasoning behind this view is evident as Mikko tells some real stories about cybercrime and fraud - even attempts made at his own company. This episode of At The Edge is brought to you by Edgescan. Visit Edgescan on ITSPmagazine at https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/edgescan

Nollaig Heffernan and Sean Martin weave, swerve and blast their way through a number of application security technologies looking at the history of the marketplace, the expansion of the technologies, how things stay the same even with the massive changes in continuous delivery and continuous integration. Some of the acronyms the two unpack in this episode include SAST, DAST, IAST, WAFs, RASP and more. To make things even more interesting, many one of these, of course, have a variety of flavors to choose from. A lot is covered in this conversation. So… sit back, grab a notepad, and walk down our memory lane to the future of AppSec. This episode of At The Edge is brought to you by Edgescan. Visit Edgescan on ITSPmagazine at https://www.itspmagazine.com/company-directory/edgescan

In the City of Kites and Crows By Megan Arkenberg   1. When you breathe deeply, really push the air from your lungs and let the cold valley wind fill you again, you can smell the city’s ghosts. They smell like burning. Not like fire but like everything that comes with it: smoke, scorched hair, wet carbon, ash. This is a city that burns spasmodically, a city of gas lines and rail cars, coal dust and arson, a city with wooden roofs and narrow alleys. A city that is always shivering. Forty or fifty years ago, this apartment building was the hotel where Senators kept their mistresses and boy-toys, all blue velvet and gilt. Then a fire gutted it.         Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 58 for August 25, 2018. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our episode today is a reprint "In the City of Kites and Crows" by Megan Arkenberg, read by A.J. Fitzwater. Megan Arkenberg’s work has appeared in over fifty magazines and anthologies, including Lightspeed, Asimov’s, Shimmer, and Ellen Datlow’s Best Horror of the Year. She has edited the fantasy e-zine Mirror Dance since 2008 and was recently the nonfiction editor for Queers Destroy Horror!, a special issue of Nightmare Magazine. She currently lives in Northern California, where she is pursuing a Ph.D. in English literature. Visit her online at http://www.meganarkenberg.com. A.J. Fitzwater is a dragon wearing a human meat suit from Christchurch, New Zealand. A graduate of Clarion 2014, she’s had stories published in Shimmer Magazine, Andromeda Spaceways Magazine, and in Paper Road Press’s At The Edge anthology. She also has stories coming soon at Kaleidotrope and PodCastle. As a narrator, her voice has been heard across the Escape Artists Network, on Redstone SF, and Interzone. She tweets under her penname as @AJFitzwater Content warning for descriptions of police violence and suicide.   In the City of Kites and Crows By Megan Arkenberg   1. When you breathe deeply, really push the air from your lungs and let the cold valley wind fill you again, you can smell the city’s ghosts. They smell like burning. Not like fire but like everything that comes with it: smoke, scorched hair, wet carbon, ash. This is a city that burns spasmodically, a city of gas lines and rail cars, coal dust and arson, a city with wooden roofs and narrow alleys. A city that is always shivering. Forty or fifty years ago, this apartment building was the hotel where Senators kept their mistresses and boy-toys, all blue velvet and gilt. Then a fire gutted it. I tell this to Lisse, and she rubs at the burn scar on the back of her knee, at the tattoo that crawls up her thigh in a hatch of green and golden lines, like a map of a city, or a circuit board in fragments. Lisse just got out of Federal prison for smashing the rearview mirrors off a police car. She has new scars now, the white tracks of some riot officer’s baton, one of which slices across her left nipple and makes her breast look punctured, deflated. She sits in her flannel bathrobe at the table in her living room, in the apartment that was a hotel room and still smells like the arsonist’s match, and she shakes her head with a slow, sad smile. “Hythloday,” she says, as though my name were a dirge. “How can you, of all people, believe in ghosts?” Outside the bay window behind her, three stories below us, a crush of posterboard and sweatshirted bodies is churning and chanting its way up 9th street, towards the West Gate of the Senate. Lisse snaps photos on her phone. She edits an antigovernment webzine, contributes information to two antisenatorial projects that I know of—both documenting police brutality and violations of prisoners’ rights—and surely several others that I don’t. Her thick hair is unoiled and still damp from the shower, smelling of grass and wood dust, smelling of her. “Everyone I’m fucking is trying to overthrow the government,” I tell her. I’m spread out on her couch like the jammy sediment in the bottom of a wine glass, and I know that this observation, this trenchant précis of the last thirty-six months, is the closest that I will ever come to political analysis. Or to self-reflection. Lisse, who will not let me back into her bed until I’m sober, who still fucks me on the couch, does not look up from the photos of the protestors on her phone. “Well, Hythloday,” she says, half word and half sigh. “Why do you think that is?”   2. Some evenings, when I’m sober enough to pull on a pair of trousers and an old suit coat, tie my hair back and wash the traces of eyeliner from my cheeks, I take the train down to the university. It’s quiet and damp so close to the river, the trees whispering to themselves in the fog, and all the public spaces roped off with yellow lines of caution tape. If anyone were to ask me what I’m doing here tonight—anyone except for Lisse, who won’t ask me, who never asks—I’d say I came for the lecture on the Mnemosyne project, an answer both innocuous and vaguely suspect. Really, I’m here to see Jesse. They check IDs at the door of the auditorium. I don’t know if “they” are the Mnemosyne developers looking for allies or a Senatorial commission tallying enemies, or just the university, looking to cover its ass either way. Inside, the dim room flickers with tablet and laptop screens as people pull up the app. Mnemosyne, Jesse explained to me once as we lay on the floor of his bedroom, sipping coffee from wine glasses, is an augmented reality application. It checks your location with your device’s GPS and overlays your screen with location-sensitive news. Censored news, he meant, censored images, photographs you shouldn’t see, stories no one should be reporting. I know Lisse is providing data for the project, and Jesse helped with the programming. Everyone I’m fucking wants to overthrow the government. (Well, Hythloday, why do you think that is?) A small gray woman in a gray suit reads off her PowerPoint slides at the front of the room, and I lean against the wall in back, scanning the crowd for Jesse. He’s sitting in the second-to-last row, the strands of silver in his dark brown hair showing dramatically in the liquid-crystal glow of his laptop. His face and lips look as blue as a drowning man’s. I like to watch him like this, when he doesn’t know I’m looking. When he knows he’s being watched, when he’s teaching or lecturing, he becomes brilliant, sparkling, animated. His dark eyes and his smile widen, light up, his gentle laugh drags parentheses around the corners of his mouth. But when he’s alone, when he thinks no one is watching, he shrinks into himself. The laugh lines settle. He looks lost, like a book that someone has misplaced. At the end of the lecture, he snaps his laptop shut, slings his bag over his shoulder. He catches sight of me on his way to the exit. He smiles too widely, looking exhausted. “You weren’t expecting me,” I say. “I know.” “No, it’s fine.” He licks his lips, which still look dry and blue. “Did you like the talk?” “Sure,” I lie. He turns abruptly and strides out of the lecture hall. I follow down the glossy corridor, out into the parking lot, where the mist rolls in from the river, smelling of rot. Jesse stops, leans against the wall of the auditorium, and his hair catches on the rough brick. He grabs me around the waist and drags me in for a kiss. (Nine people contributed material to the Mnemosyne project, he told me, leaning against the pillows. The marks of my teeth were pale and raised along his shoulders. Four of them are anonymous. Five of them are missing.) He clings to me like a drowning man, fingers digging into my back, bruising, his mouth opening beneath mine as though I could give him breath. He tastes like mint chewing gum and cigarette smoke. He winces when my tongue brushes against his teeth, but when I start to pull back, he whispers, “Don’t.” (He kicked a stack of books off the side of the bed, yanking off his jacket and tie, and he told me to fuck him. I took the harness and the strap-on from the nightstand. He spread out on the bed, watching impatiently over his shoulder as I adjusted the buckles and straps around my thighs. The headlights from a car across the street slipped through the slats in the window blinds, caught his eyes, flattened them to smooth disks of gold.) I weave my fingers through his, and he grunts in pain. “Jesse.” I pull back. His sleeve cuffs gap above the buttons, and I can see the shining red marks on his wrists, marks my hands could never have left. The neck of his undershirt has slipped down, damp with mist and sweat, and bruises show under his skin, black and yellow and blue. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Please. Just stay with me.” (We fucked, and even though I was sober, it was the disjointed, disappointing sex of people who are drunk, and angry, and afraid.) We take the train to his townhouse on the east side of the city. The streetlights around us glare like a hangover. Alone in the second-to-last compartment, he leans against my back, his cheek against my shoulder blade, his arms tight around my waist. “The dean wants to see me tomorrow,” he murmurs. I turn my head, looking for our reflection in the train window, but it’s too dark inside, too bright out. (Afterward, he asked me to hold him. He curled around me, his head resting in the crook between my bicep and my breast, his arms around my hips. He didn’t say my name again. After a few minutes, his breathing settled. I kissed his cheek and tasted salt.)   3. This city burns so often that every fire has a name. Ships burning, churches burning, schools and factories and luxury hotels. The S. S. Virgil fire, the St. John’s fire. On a windy day, you can still smell the smoke rising from St. John’s preparatory. And when you aim the camera of your phone down at the sidewalk in front of the West Gate, down at the cracked cement with its tarry traces of chewing gum and bird shit, you can still see the outline of Mark Labelle’s blood, the smooth puddle that it left as he died on a cold Sunday afternoon in April, beaten to death by riot officers. The stain that was still there the next morning, when the body was packed away in a city morgue and the police surveillance video had disappeared. Gone, as they say, without a trace—except for this palimpsested slab of sidewalk, which someone snapped on their phone, which someone else uploaded to the Mnemosyne project, which now trickles through this elegant little app to the eyes of anyone who stands here beneath the wrought iron gate. Your own private haunting, in the palms of your hands. There are dozens of places like this throughout the city, thanks to Lisse and Jesse and all the rest of them. Haunted places. Revolutions are made out of hauntings, out of missing bodies and ghosts. Did you know that? I can assure you that the government does.   4. Remedios and Gavin live above their gallery on Elliot Street, which has burned so many times that the new houses are all built out of concrete. Every surface north of 23rd is brightly painted: flag murals, forest scenes, mountain silhouettes, massive bare-breasted women with galaxies in their eyes. Walking up the sidewalks, listening to the cold reverberating echo of your footsteps, you get the feeling that this part of the city has transcended the organic. At least until you see the fast food wrappers caught in the grates of the pristine concrete sewers. Everything, even the wrappers, smells like stone and diesel. Gavin is a sculptor, and he doesn’t mind this sort of thing. Remedios, though, rebels. Their back yard is full of tomatoes and bright yellow-flowered squash, and two fat hens cluck in the chicken coop beside the rusted bike rack. The back stairs take you either into the gallery, through the second floor, or up to their apartment on the third. The gallery is always unlocked. I glance inside just long enough to see that Remedios’s Brutal exhibition is still on display, wall after wall of bare torsos with unspeakable scars. The gray, wine-stained carpet smells like dust, and there are fat black flies on the windowsills. A stray exhibition program flutters in the box by the fire escape, the title in red lower-case sans-serif: These are not the bodies we were born in. I let the door swing shut. Upstairs, in the kitchen, Remedios is standing barefoot at the sink, washing cherry tomatoes and crying. (You weren’t expecting to see me, I’d said, because none of them ever are. No, he said, it’s fine.) “Hythloday.” She drops the bowl into the sink, where it spins, clattering, spilling mottled red-and-yellow tomatoes across the gray ceramic. She flings her arms around my neck, stands on tiptoe, presses her flat chest against mine. Her hair is dark blue and shaved close to her head, and it smells like the gallery, like dry skin and abandonment. (Please, just stay with me.) She pulls me towards her on the bed, which is a low double-mattress in the front room, covered in shawls and old saris and stuffed animals. Her fingers are already undoing the buttons on my shirt. “Shouldn’t we wait for Gavin?” I ask, but she makes a sick squeaking sound. “He isn’t here,” she says. “What do you mean?” “He’s gone, Hythloday.” She tugs at my sleeves, and I ease myself down beside her on the mattress. “What do you mean?” She shakes her head, falls silent. I kiss her forehead, and she rolls me over, pushes me back against the pillows with the dead weight of her body. (Four of them were anonymous, Jesse had told me. Five of them are missing.) Afterward, she curls up with her back against my stomach, a little spoon, or a snail in its shell. It feels strange not to have Gavin’s arms crossing mine above her small body, Gavin’s heady juniper smell in my nostrils. Remedios’s breathing slows, hitches, then steadies, like a ship breaking into deep water. “We were marching up Tribunal,” she says. “There was a gathering at the West Gate. He thought we should be there, say a few words. The police arrived and we were separated.” Somewhere in the neighborhood, a siren begins to wail. I kiss the back of her neck, and she looks over her shoulder. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” (Everyone I’m fucking is trying to overthrow the government. Well, Hythloday, why do you think that is?) I kiss her nose, her eyelids. “I don’t know,” I lie.   5. “Hythloday?” Lisse crouches over me. Her fingers wind around the back of my neck, giving my hair a sharp tug. “In all seriousness. Why do all your lovers want to overthrow the government?” “Guess I have a thing for rebels.” “Seriously.” “Mm-hm,” I say. Her face is unreadable. I close my eyes, lean back into her grip. “You’re all so electric, and so secretive. Meetings in dark alleys and warehouses, throwing bricks through Senate windows. It’s so sexy. And don’t get me started on the posters and the pamphlets and those long, lonely nights with a busted stapler in the back of the copy shop—” She cuts me off with a kiss, dragging my head up to hers. Her mouth tastes like orange juice and almond chapstick, her lips bruisingly firm, her teeth sharp. “Just for once,” she whispers, “I wish you would think.” Think. As though I weren’t always thinking, too much for my own good. Thinking of her body, the scars I can see and the ones I can’t, the hipbones that jut prominently against my hands where they were once buried in flesh. Thinking of the marks shining on Jesse’s wrists and chest, of Remedios crying at her kitchen sink. Thinking about protestors and fire hoses, pepper spray, gunshots. Thinking of the history of this city, this apartment building and the fire that gutted it. Thinking of being gutted. Being burned. “All right, Lisse.” I rub my eyelids, smudging what’s left of yesterday’s liner. “Everyone I’m fucking realizes that this country is going to shit, and unlike me, they have the courage and integrity to do something about it. Fair?” She doesn’t answer. I open my eyes. A flood of sunlight pours through the windows, sharp with afternoon. The living room is empty. When I look towards 9th and Tribunal, I see that the crowd of protestors has dispersed, leaving a single piece of wet posterboard in their wake.   6. Hythloday. I suppose you caught the reference. A traveler in no-place, a stranger in Nowhere. My mother kicked me out when I was fifteen, and ever since, my only reliable roof has been the sky. The city of kites and crows. It doesn’t burn as easily as the city of flesh and blood, I’ll give it that. And there have been friends’ couches, lovers’ bedrooms: roosts for a night, or for a season. I have this image of myself flying across the city, from nest to nest, like something from a children’s story. Where do the birds go during a revolution? I read somewhere that every pigeon in Paris flew away during the summer of 1793. It was so hot, and every street in the city stank of blood. I have no idea if any of that is true. I have this recurring dream of a guillotine blade falling, the thud of it scattering crows, like a spray of embers from a collapsing roof. They don’t settle again. Whatever died wasn’t to their taste. The fire at St. John’s preparatory school began because a little girl stuck a match into a bird’s nest outside her dormitory window. Little girls are cruel, crueler far than ravens or guillotine blades, and flames in a wooden building travel faster than cruelty. Within seven minutes, everyone who was going to make it out alive had already left the building. They stood on 23rd street clutching their books, their dolls. Everyone else died. And some who got out died, too, later on, from the smoke. I tell this story to Lisse, and she frowns. It is a story about all the things she loves: a story about home, about violence and brutality and revenge, about innocent bystanders. But it is not a story about justice. “Only ghost stories are about justice,” I say, and she shakes her head. (How can you, of all people, believe in ghosts?)   7. When I return to the gallery, there are flies everywhere. (Where did the bruises come from? I asked Jesse. But they weren’t just bruises, not merely bruises, although the purple stain on his chest showed the treads of a military boot. The white and red marks on his arms, the stiffness in his fingers came from being cuffed, being tied, and tightly. I knew the signs.) Remedios and I go into the bedroom and fuck and don’t say word about Gavin. She moves so stiffly that I’m afraid I’ve hurt her, but when I slow down, she twines her legs around me and hisses in my ear: “Don’t stop.” We fall asleep afterward, sore and exhausted. Later still, I wake alone to the buzzing of the flies. (The dean wants to see me tomorrow, he’d said, resting his cheek against my shoulder blade. And I couldn’t see our reflection in the window.) And although it’s the last thing on earth that I want to do, although I can already smell the sour stink in the dusty carpet, I go down to the gallery. Down to the first floor, where the flies are thickest. Down to the back room. (Jesse’s things are scattered across the bedroom floor. His books, cracked along the spine. His ties and jackets and dress shirts, torn from their hangers and crumpled, dirtied with the muddy prints of boots. The contents of the nightstand, small and obscene in the light of day.) I see the folding chair first, collapsed in the center of the room beneath the light fixture. And she sways at the end of something that shows bright orange against her blue hair: an electric cord. She’s been here for a while now. Her limbs have gone stiff, her tongue black against her pale chin. I stand on the chair to cut her down. When she lands in my arms, I lose my balance, fall to the floor with a solid, bruising thud.   8. On the train back to 9th street, the woman in the seat across from me is reading something on her tablet. She looks up at me, suddenly. Without saying a word, she cries, and cries, and cries.   9. None of us has the body we were born in. Life leaves its traces, its teeth marks on our throats, its maps across our thighs and in our fingertips, its footprints on our chests. The body that I was born in didn’t have breasts, didn’t have hips, and I didn’t know it had a cunt until I was nine years old. Love leaves its traces on us, and hate. I fill the antique tub in Lisse’s bathroom until the frigid water flows over the edge, splashing across the dark green tile floor. I close my eyes, plug my nose, plunge to the bottom. Even under water, I smell burning. I’ve stopped binding recently, stood in front of the mirror on the back of the bathroom door and cupped my breasts the way I used to cup Lisse’s. It felt alien. Not wrong, just not mine. I think of Lisse’s tattoo, the marks on Jesse’s wrists and neck and chest. I think of the slight weight of Remedios, dangling from an electric cord noose. And I think damage is what teaches us to inhabit our bodies, and everyone I love has learned that long before me. At last, I come up for air, and Lisse is waiting for me, sitting on the edge of the tub in her flannel robe. “What’s wrong, Hythloday?” she asks. But nothing’s wrong. I’m unscathed. “It’s my gift,” I say softly. “My own special talent. I don’t follow the crowd, and I never have. I don’t get caught up in things. The world is on fire and I don’t even feel the heat.” I reach for her, and she isn’t there. I get out of the tub, wrap a fraying towel around my waist, go into the hallway. The door to her room is on my right. I put my fingertips on the handle, hoping it will be locked, but it isn’t, it swings soundlessly open. The smell of smoke and scorched hair and wet carbon rushes out. Inside, everything is covered in a layer of dust. END   "The City of Kites and Crows" is copyright Megan Arkenberg, 2016, and was originally published in Kaleidotrope. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes. Thanks for listening, and we'll be back soon with "Never Alone, Never Unarmed," an original story by Bobby Sun.  

In today’s episode, Sean Martin, host of At The Edge, and Selena Templeton, host of Diverse IT, are joined by Callum Corr, data analytics specialist at ZL Technologies, a company that develops unstructured data archiving software. In light of the recent Google/FBI case – in which the FBI made an unprecedented request that Google turn over the data on all its Android and iPhone users who were within 110 acres during a 30-minute time frame of the crime scene they were investigating – we'll be talking about this particular case as well as the news that Google is storing user location data even when you’ve turned location history off in your phone’s settings. This is a perfect/scary example of how data can be manipulated when it is being collected: without enforcing strict regulations on the use cases for that data, what does the future of privacy look like? How does the average person be responsible for their privacy when companies like Google are being duplicitous on their support pages about your data? If they say don’t worry, we’ve got you covered, but they don’t, how do you take charge of your data privacy then? We'll also dive in to the subject of convenience vs privacy – people are so seduced by the convenience of tech that maybe they don’t care whether Google is tracking their every move – and who is responsible for data privacy (federal government, state government, businesses, employers or individuals). As Callum says, “Regulations are great, but without enforcement, they really don’t mean anything.” So sit back, relax (if you can!), and enjoy the conversation!

Singer-songwriter and recording artist Elder Sister Plum talks about how she realized as a teen-ager that while none of the traditional career paths made any sense to her – but music always did. What do you do if you’re a musician and you make a mistake during a song onstage? What does it mean to be a professional musician? And what’s it like for a young musician trying to make a living from music today? In this episode of Staccato, Elder Sister Plum answers these questions based on her own experience and from what she learned from an Artist Development Course at Seneca College. Elder Sister Plum talks about the reality check offered by her college instructor: “If you want to be independent musicians – you’re going to be broke, so here’s how you can use an SM58 (microphone) and your crappy laptop and you’re living in your basement apartment and this is how you record like that.” We’ll hear her describe her song-writing process and extraordinary effort to apply to play at fifty different music festival venues. She also shares the unique challenges - but also the ultimately rewarding experiences of playing live music to an audience. And we’ll also play a haunting track from her latest album: ‘At The Edge of The Woods.’ Elder Sister Plum - her music will hook you in and keep you entranced!

This week’s guest is one of my greatest inspirations: the historian, poet, and mythographer William Irwin Thompson. Author of sweeping works of synthetic insight like At The Edge of History (a finalist for the National Book Award in 1972), The American Replacement of Nature, and Coming Into Being: Artifacts and Texts in the Evolution of Consciousness, Bill Thompson’s greatest work may not have been a book but a community: The Lindisfarne Association, a post-academic “intellectual concert” for the “study and realization of a new planetary culture,” which anchored in various locations across the United States as a flesh-and-blood meta-industrial village for most of its forty years. Lindisfarne’s roster reads like a who’s who of influential latter-20th Century thinkers: Gregory Bateson, Lynn Margulis, Ralph Abraham, Stuart Kauffman, Paolo Soleri, Francisco Varela, David Abram, Hazel Henderson, Joan Halifax-Roshi, James Lovelock, Wes Jackson, Wendell Berry, Gary Snyder, Maurice Strong, and Michael Murphy were among them. In his latest and last book, Thinking Together at the Edge of History, Thompson looks back on the failures and successes of this project, which he regards as a “first crocus” budding up through the snow of our late-industrial dark age to herald the arrival of a planetary renaissance still yet to come. Bill’s wisdom and humility, vast and inclusive vision, and amazing skill for bringing things together in a form of freestyle “wissenkunst” (or “knowledge art”) made this and every conversation that I’ve had with him illuminating and instructive.(Here are links to the first two chats we had in 2011 and 2013, as well as to my video remix of one of Bill’s lectures with footage from Burning Man.)For anyone who wants to know what happens after universities and nations lose their dominance and both economy and identity “etherealize” in a new paradigm of ecological human interbeing that revives premodern ways of knowing and relating – and/or for anyone who wants to help build institutions that will weather the chaotic years to come and help transmit our cultural inheritance and novel insights to the unborn generations – here is a conversation with one of the master thinkers of our time, a mystic poet and professor whose work and life challenged our assumptions and proposed a powerful, complete, and thrilling view of our emergent role as citizens of Earth.We talk Trump and our future-shocked need for charismatic strongmen, digital humans and the tragicomedy of the smartphone takeover, technocracy versus the metaindustrial village-monastery and “counterfoil institutions,” the “necessary exercise in futility” of dealing with rich and influential people to fund important work, how the future arrives unevenly, and how to get involved in institutional work without losing your soul…Also, cryptocurrencies and universal basic income as symptoms of the transition of the global economy from a liquid to a gaseous state; QUOTES:“Austin is, of course, an air bubble in the Titanic…”“The counterfoil institution is a fractal…it’s the individual and the group, kind of like Bauhaus…it had an effect, but it was very short lived. So I argued in Passages [About Earth] that these entities [including artistic movements like Bauhaus, but also communities like Auroville and Fyndhorn] were not institutions, but ENZYMES – they effected a kind of molecular bonding and effected larger institutions, but they themselves weren’t meant to become institutions. And so Lindisfarne, which was a temporary phenomenon of Celtic Christianity, getting absorbed by Roman Christianity, was my metaphor for this transformation.”“When you’re getting digested and absorbed [into the system], it can either be thrilling because you really WANT to become famous and you want to become a public intellectual, and you want to namedrop and be part of the power group…but if you’re trying to energize cultural authority, then it’s difficult in America. You can get away with it, I think, more successfully in Europe, where there is this tradition of Great Eminences, and in Paris, once you’ve done something of value as an intellectual, then you’re part of it for your life. It isn’t like, ‘What are you doing next? Do it again, do it again, do it again.’ So American culture, based on this kind of hucksterism and boomerism and success culture, is very resistant to that sensibility.”“We’re always a minority. If we look at The Enlightenment, we’re talking about, what, twelve intellectuals in all of Europe? If you’re an extraterrestrial and you flying-saucered into Florence in the 15th Century and said, ‘Hey, I hear you guys are having a Renaissance?’ And they said, ‘What?’ What do three painters mean? It’s still the Middle Ages for them. And so everybody’s in different times’ laminar flow. Some are faster and more ultraviolet and high energy, and others are very wide, slow, and sluggish. And that’s how nature works.”“Each person makes his own dance in response to the laws of gravity…if we didn’t have gravity, we wouldn’t have ballet.”“If you’re running a college, or a dance troupe, or an orchestra, or ANYTHING – someone in the group has to learn how to deal with money. And I think I failed, even though I succeeded in raising millions, by being a 60’s kind of countercultural type who was suspicious of money. I crossed my legs and was afraid of violation. And I didn’t come fully to understand the importance of money. But now that we bank online…” See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

This year alone, the Malibu-based actress has no less than four major projects due for release including At The Edge of Time, which she also co-produced, supernatural dramaDawn of the Crescent Moon (2014), rom-com Courting Chaos (2014), and the highly anticipated Science Fiction film Robot Fighter depicting the overthrow of humanity by an Artificial Intelligence. You'll also hear Birdsall as the voice of the Starship Computer in writer-director _Neil Johnson (VI)_'s Doomsday (2015). Birdsall is currently filming the lead role in the independent comedy Who's Jenna...?(2015), which has - despite still being in production - already developed a large fanbase online.

In this latest episode join Drew, Patrick, Eric, and Jeremy as they discuss various and sundry.It is a testosterone-fueled joyride of epic awesomeness.God, we miss Socar.Episode 114http://mchughstudios.com/ninjamountain_podcast/episode_114.mp3Subscribe to the Ninja Mountain Podcast on iTunes or face dire consequences. You have been warned....At The EdgeGenConGreg HildebrandtCynthia SheppardPaul Prof Herbert, fellow artist and organizer of our weekend pilgrimage to Pennsylvania.IMCPrometheusThe Avengers MovieP.Craig Russell