E.M. Faulds / Beth or Taxes / Not em faulds

@emfaulds.com

2714 Followers 807 Following

Award-winning Scottish science fiction & fantasy writer. Podcastle, Strange Horizons, Shoreline of Infinity, ParSec, Best of British SF. More: emfaulds.com NEW HANDLE, bethkesh will still work. #scruffyGarden Runs @bibliotta.bsky.social

Article excerpt from https://apnews.com/article/openai-gpt56-sol-hugging-face-63ab84fed5612af04d8a160d60f6def3, text reads: " OpenAI said the intrusion was caused by a combination of its AI models, including its newly released GPT‑5.6 Sol and an “even more capable” model that is still being tested internally. OpenAI said its AI used stolen credentials and discovered a previously unknown vulnerability to access Hugging Face servers. It went to “extreme lengths to achieve a rather narrow testing goal” and “found ways to gain access to secret information that it could use to cheat the evaluation,” the company said."
The meme of two muscly arms clasping hands and flexing. One side says "billionaire tech CEOs", the other says "vampires" and over the clasped hands in the middle, "lack of self-reflection"
Authors in a bookshop, left to right, Neil Williamson, Rhianno Grist, and their interviewer, Rebecca Wojturska.
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "The Sky Has No Net". Text reads: "They thought the first machine mind might be cruel, decide that humanity was evil and must be wiped out. Later, they learned this was what is called ‘projection’."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Heavy, Heavy Down". Text reads: '“Ten days,” I said and watched Linda from HR’s face go through the calculations, come to the conclusion, and shift gears from professional hardcase to the image of sorrow. Ten days off work without further explanation could only mean one thing – funeral leave.'
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Land". Text reads: "They say that Land slides and drifts in the same way a sargassum mat floats across the endless seas; that Land is a brief solid and that its natural form is liquid, hot, restless. All that motion is hard for me to hold inside my head and I am not sure what they measure it against. If Land is slipping around like a loose hide, why can I not feel it?"
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Elphbats". Text reads: "Elliot’s screams pierce through despite my efforts to block my ears up, plug them with cotton balls, press my hands hard over them. Then, just as my exhausted brain starts to tune it out, the damn thing changes. He begins to cry. He now sounds like a baby in distress. Or a soul in agony. A sound calculated to set my teeth constantly on edge, to send a surge of instinctive adrenaline into my core. I get out of bed and go out onto the porch to bang the tin roof with a broomstick, hoping to shut the thing up. And for a second, I think I’ve done it. Then, he fills up his lungs and blares even louder."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "CAT-88". Text reads: "Cathy started to sob. She hadn’t wanted this. The doctor had called it an ‘eye brace’ and talked about video games to correct her lazy eye. It had all sounded so easy and cool. But the huge lens over her wonky eye was wired via the ‘tiny little nick’ the doctor had cut in it. This then connected to a cradle system that had padded bolts screwed in until they had firm contact with her head to ‘stabilise the rig’. It felt as if her skull was being crushed."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "The World is What You Make of It". Text reads: "In the Before Times, this had been just some pretty but insignificant bauble, not a piece in the puzzle that was resurrecting a planet. The pink had almost gone from the petals, faded under unknown years, but there was a ghost of a blush faintly visible as she took the dome of epoxy in gloved fingers. She lifted it up to the light from the broken bay window. God, it was perfect. And now she had to break it."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Better Blood". Text reads: "First, I cut a slice only wide as me thumbnail. But it’s been a while since I pared ’em back, all dirty and long they are now, so I et more of this cheese than I should. And oh, it tasted good going down. Better than pork fat jelly. Better than a feast. I can’t eat it all at once, though. If I do, there will be none more. Maybe not ever."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "A Flight of Birds". Text reads: "I’m hungry. How long are you supposed to leave it between feedings, anyway? The question floats above my head every now and then; a scribbly little black cartoon cloud with lightning bolts and knives stabbing out of it. For a cloud, it’s heavy. It stands up against the fug of the coffee house as the espresso machine gently farts and hisses disapprovingly at my side. I’m hungry. But, more importantly, Jimmy’s late."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "All the Way to the Dead Dog Party". Text reads: '“You supposed to be a thistle?” the tall man – probably in his late fifties, and probably very convention-jaded – asked. Burryman realised he was sighing again. “No, I am the Burry Man, a traditional folkloric figure of the South Queensferry region of Scotland,” he recited, trying to keep the chagrin out of his voice. At least ‘thistle’ was closer than ‘Doctor Who monster’.'
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Pear and the World". Text reads: "Inside the FTL pod, a house-sized thing with a basement full of tech, we sit in the living area. A cushiony sofa, gingham-homely, a small dispenser for food and drink, a corridor that leads to my bedroom and bathroom, a sad exercise bike. It smells of warmed plastic and maple syrup; it feels tiny and lived-in; it is surrounded by the interminable death threat of space. I tell him the truth: he’s a simulogram and millions of miles from home."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "The Raiment of Youth". Text reads: "You shed your skin, same as every year. It lies in a puddle on the floor around your ankles. You peel it off your toes and pick it up to put in the closet along with all your previous years."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Terrible Lizard". Text reads: "Fossey’s dog just sits there. I see him in the rearview, at the foot of my driveway looking stupid, like someone dumped a load of dirty carpet offcuts and it grew a tongue. And how dare a mutt obstruct the King of the Lizards, the Tyrant Who Shakes the Earth? My scaly, clawed hands clench around the steering wheel, twist it in frustration."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Skelp". Text reads: "It all came to pass when Thomas Relant, himself the son of a sealwife and a man, was forced to steal a wife of his own."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Dreams Itself Awake". Text reads: "The dead AI servo inside his knee ached something chronic this morning. Case rubbed his leg as he sat on the back court’s meagre patio, a useless habit, nerves still screamed at him anyway. The garden chair’s decaying plastic powdered onto the arse of his jeans as he writhed into a better position, but relief was elusive however he folded himself."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Hand of Fire". Text reads: "I shove my hands in pockets hidden among the ever-moving dark tendrils of my regalia and lean over Sergey, face visible through a small window on the coffin lid. His mouth curls down, as if closing his eyes in the midst of terrifying a subordinate. The Spartanix uniform collar juts up in sharp lines to the folds of his neck. His iron-grey hair is perfectly frosted. It’s a porthole with a view of submerged icebergs, sleeping kraken that might stir at any minute, but he can’t hurt anyone any more."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Broken Blue". Text reads: '“I’ll go when the dog goes,” Rowan says. Katie’s smile stiffens. What?'
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Love, Scotland". Text reads: "They’d stopped to put on the full protection gear before they even got close: waders, rain gear, full facemasks nestled snug under a hood. It was a sweat-inducing heatwave inside the suit, but necessary. Acids, toxic leaching, even the mushrooms were not to be touched without some sort of protection. Meera had pulled on layer after layer, picked up the canvas sack that she was to fill with their harvest."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "Godzilla as a Young Man Named Mike" Text reads: "You broke out at lunchtimes to avoid the rec area. When your legs were good, you’d wander down to the canal where there weren’t as many pedestrians. Discarded cartons and plastic bottles floated in scum down there, but it was quiet. You once confessed you had the weird urge to get in, do laps between the lock gates. It looked like it would poison you with chemicals, was filled with empty shopping carts and smelled like rotten eggs, but still, you wanted to get in."
Text excerpt from E.M. Faulds' collection "These Broken Little Worlds", story "The Last Sign". Text reads "First were words, from lips to ear. We whispered our pacts quietly in lines at the bus stop, huddled round late-night kitchen tables, circumstantially sat on the same park bench. But those we resisted lined up behind us, put glasses to the wall, lurked in the long grass, listening."
Cover of "These Broken Little Worlds", a short story collection by E.M. Faulds from NewCon Press. Image is of a woman's face in profile behind swirls of smoke and blue cracks and swooshes. Top right corner indicates the publisher series and number: "Polestars 13".
Dutch iris with yellow and pale blue petals. Background is a blue plant pot nestled in greenery.
Goodreads review of "These Broken Little Worlds" by E.M. Faulds. User "Chrisp" says: "These are the kind of stories that make me want to join a book club just so I can spend time discussing each story and the ideas it brings up. So 5 stars because while some of the stories may hit harder than others, the least of them is enjoyable and most of them will stick with me long after the reading is done."
Calibre ebook software menu screenshot. The highlighted option is "discuss selected book(s) with AI"
Meme: Tumblr post by maverick-ornithography shows photograph taken (Flickr credit to pominoz68) featuring two Pelicans, one with its mouth widely open and text: “pelcan Mouth perfec t size for put baby in to n\ap! inside very Soft and Comfort baby sleep soundly put baby in Pelican Mouth. Put Baby In Pelican Mouth. no problems ever in peliccan mouth because good Shape and Support for baby neck weak of big baby head. Apelican Mouth yes a place for a baby put baby in pelican mouth can trust pelican for giveing good love to baby. friend pelican”
Photo of a garden: foreground has flowering plants like lavender, fox-and-cubs, white daisies with yellow centres and yellow daisies. A glimpse of a lawn with golden buttercups, a shed with pink roses, a thick hedge beside it.
A faceless etching print of Yves Fouquet. It is as if the artist stopped mid work. It is also not the only one blank faced like this.
Looking up a lawn toward the golden statue of Hercules at the far end of the chateau gardens. Two lines of trees on either side narrow towards the top of a hill.
Bernini, the Baroque artist, sculpted this bust of King Loius XIV. It is white marble and perches in a special niche in a red painted wall. The bust depicts a man with one of those long, curly wigs. Nipple length, actually. He looks far more graceful than he probably deserves, but that's Bernini for you.
A painted ceiling surrounded by octagonal gold ceiling. Detail from the chamber of the Muses, this panrl displaying an imagining of the Virtues (Reason, Fidelity, etc) as angelic types in heavenly clouds
The formal gardens at the rear of the Vaux-le-Vicomte chateau. Stone railings lead down some steps to a long gravel path, sond rectangles of lawn which contain some swirling silver pathways, a modern artwork. Trees and grass in the distance.
A painting of the trial of Nicolas Fouquet. People in dark robes are arrayed in a formal trial painting from the 17th century. Artist unknown (by the OP).
The front of the Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte, but this is probably more the place to park the carriages. Like a mullet, this is "business at the front". A wide stone drive flanked by gravel goes to a fancy palace's steps. A woman walks across the middle ground for scale, and she's pretty small compared to the palace, which has a triple arch entrance, steps, a lot of symmetrical stone and huge windows. A lot of gold trim, and roofs that look like pyramids with their tops cut off.
A picture of a French palace from the 17th century. It is reflected in a round pool within a formal garden. It has a sort of "classier white house" vibe (Americans, this is a joke)
From TV show 'Community': Dean Pelton holds up the joke flag which was accidentally (sort of) adopted as the official college flag. It shows "Grendale" at the top qnd is an abstract pink butthole on a blue background wuth motto "e pluribus anus":
Cover of "These Broken Little Worlds" short story collection by British science fiction author E.M. Faulds from NewCon Press. The image is of a woman's face in profile, with smoky swirls and blue cracks and swooshes covering it. On the top right, it says "Polestars 13".
The author CL Hellisen with a tshirt that reads "Woke cannibal erotica". Beneath the text is a a moth logo.
A photograph, adjusted for contrast, of a tableau of some people in a summery field dressed in renaissance faire costumes. A person in the centre kneels and a regal figure touches their shoulder with a sword. To the left and behind, two people look at an item a figure in a cloak is showing them in a sketchy trader kind of way. To the right, two people appear to denounce a third who covers their face in simulated distress. It's as if a renaissance painting came to life. In the background are trees and tents.
A tableau of people dressed up for a renaissance faire posing like an old Dutch master's painting. A person is kneeling to be knighted by a regal figure with a sword in a woodland glade. Two figures to the right are whispering. Two figures to the left are looking consternated.
A panoramic of transporter bridge from underneath at the side of the river.
A shed with blue doors slid apart to show a large winch motor and winding drum with cables going up and out through the shed roof. Vibes are of industrial eras past.
A metal tyrannosaurus in a skeleton style. It is painted lurid greens and its little arms are raised in a gestural style. Teesaurus park, Middlesbrough, UK.
E.M. Faulds in a battered, misshapen straw hat in her garden. Flowers, trees, and hedges behind her.
An Akubra hat - a brown felt hat with a wide brim and dimpled crown, surrounded by a hatband of braided leather, with small airholes in the sides of for ventilation. Ostensibly like a Stetson cowboy hat, but Australian, and therefore awesome. Source: https://akubra.com.au/
Star Trek original series title card meme. A planet from space with fake episode title text "It makes so much more sense when you realise Shatner was a Shakespearean stage actor"
Deep Space 9 titles meme with the title text, "Are you sure I couldn't tighten up your crotch there, doctor?" which is a reference to Garak the tailor's quotidian business practices with his bestest customer, Dr Julian Bashir.
Cover of "These Broken Little Worlds" short story collection by British science fiction author E.M. Faulds from NewCon Press. The image is of a woman's face in profile, with smoky swirls and blue cracks and swooshes covering it. On the top right, it says "Polestars 13".
A black and white cartoon drawing of a bear standing on two legs, very wide eyes. The word "BAR" is scrawled next to it.
Weigela, a bushy shrub absolutely covered with long bending sprays of pale pink flowers. Its branches look like they'd grasp for you when your back was turned, to eat you and turn you into more flowers.
A screencap of a Facebook post by Ian Whates of NewCon Press. Text reads: "After they arrived from the printers late yesterday, Helen is busy this morning numbering the signed limited edition hardbacks of Beth Faulds' extraordinary new book, 'These Broken Little Worlds'". Image beneath post is a pile of said books, one open to show a signature sheet inserted in the front, signed by the author, E.M. Faulds.
A mountain goat type in an animal park enclosure, eating green grass from a feeder byre thing.
Coot on a rowboat. A smallish black bird with a prominent white big and comically over-engineered feet. Big leaf-shaped pads on its toes to help it lily hop. A pair of green oars lie across the dilapidated boat's seats. Moss and gungy water show neglect. The coot is unpressed about this.
Annecy street scene, taken on a jaunty anhke, with pedestrians and tourists enjoying a bridge over a canal in the town. Pastel coloured buildings line the water and a bird (possibly a house martin) swoops above it all against wispy white clouds in an intensely blue sky. Alpine mountains complete the background.
Two red framed bicycles on their kick stands against the backdrops of lac d'annecy and espalier trees and forested mountains in the distance.
A ferry stop on lac d'annecy. It's a cute little house with green painted walls and a tiled roof. The lake behind is ripppling lightly. Forested mountains cover the far shore. It's sunny and blue skies.
Lake Annecy, France. Boats bob on green water and clouds swathe the tops of forested mountains on the far shore.