hugovk
commented
9 years ago Good stuff!
The first paragraph:
Hail me Ishmael. Some lightyears ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no credit in my cred-pod, and nothing particular to interest me on orbit, I thought I would sail about a little and see the empty part of the galaxy. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing lovely about the mouth; whenever it is a low-pressure, drizzly November in my cortical stack; whenever I find myself compulsively pausing before deathpod warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every recycling I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the tube, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to void as soon as I can. This is my substitute for lazer and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws herself upon her energy-whip; I quietly take to the spaceship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all women in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the void with me.
bonnevilleco
"Sometimes the space-octopus shakes its tremendous tentacle in the vacuum, which, cracking like a nerve-whip, resounds to the distance of three or four parsecs." --WHIPMISTRESS PRIME.
Mutating Moby Dick to be about sexy space amazons fighting octopodes through a word mapping.