Read Part 1 here. Groggy and feverish with Covid-19, I began playing an online game through an avatar, Mr. Tea. The game was similar to Wordle, popularized by The New York Times: a downmarket version apparently beyond the reach of copyright law. Wordle ritually offered one secret word—and only one—per day, but the app provided unlimited words in quick succession. This gave the game a jittery, compulsive feel, as if playing the slots at a word casino. Five empty boxes, signifying a new five-letter word, appeared seconds after the last word was revealed, obliterating it from memory as another game began. Every five minutes offered a new dawn, a new shot at greatness.
A journey through different worlds of the mind packed into a pseudonym society of a game, then a book with its own journey through a world inside the world of the book, and back home to real life. Wonderful.
A journey through different worlds of the mind packed into a pseudonym society of a game, then a book with its own journey through a world inside the world of the book, and back home to real life. Wonderful.
Damn, these two pieces launched you to warp speed right out the (star)gate.