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Tag: maps

This website was archived on July 20, 2019. It is frozen in time on that date.
Exolymph creator Sonya Mann's active website is Sonya, Supposedly.

Exclusion from the Mapped Physicality Database

some kind of space shuttle? not sure

“Put me back on the GOD. DAMN. MAP.” Alden was yelling into his laptop speaker. He was so angry that he brought his face close to the computer, voice distorted by the overloaded audio processors.

“My apologies, sir,” the tinny customer service chatterbot responded. “At this time we cannot reinstate your business on the Mapped Physicality Database.”

Alden made a noise of pure frustration, a growling sort of scream, and then banged his mouse to click on the hangup button.

Stacy sat in the corner of his office, feeling awkward. They had been removed five days ago, and she wasn’t sure how long Alden would keep her on. She wasn’t sure how long Alden could afford to keep her on. It wasn’t like Stacy was privy to the details of cash flow.

Alden stood up and started pacing, hands in the pockets of his grey suit pants. He muttered expletives to himself. Stacy didn’t move, still watching him from the corner.

Alden stopped abruptly and turned to look at her. “Is this a glitch?”

That was when Stacy felt the alarm in her stomach. She had never heard Alden sound plaintive.

He was tough. He didn’t whine. He didn’t ask her questions. Not until now.

Five days ago, the store was suddenly dead. No one came in to buy new rigs or fancy up their old ones. This was very unusual; Stacy was used to furiously taking notes on her netpad while customers dictated what they wanted. The regular clientele was all bored upscale folks, since no one else would bother to come in person. Alden said they liked the attention.

But five days ago there was no one. Alden said it was a fluke.

Four days ago, there was still no one. Alden laughed it off to Stacy, but he went into the back room and didn’t emerge until after closing. Stacy left without seeing him again.

Three days ago, Stacy opened up the shop and Alden arrived an hour later. By noon he told her, “I’m looking into this.” No customers had come in.

At two o’clock he strode back into the showroom, where Stacy was sitting, and shouted, “We’re gone! It’s like we fucking disappeared!”

She looked at him quizzically. “We disappeared? But, aren’t we… here?”

“Yes, Stacy, we’re here. I KNOW WE’RE HERE. Jesus. We’re just not on the maps. Not any of the maps. Not the suggestion APIs or the service maps or the retail maps. Not any maps.”

Stacy hesitated to ask why. If he knew, wouldn’t he lead with that?

Two days ago, Alden told Stacy the name of what they were missing from. “It’s called the Mapped Physicality Database. I didn’t know about this goddam thing. Did you?”

It took Stacy a moment to realize that it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “No,” she responded. “I don’t… I don’t think so. The name doesn’t sound familiar…”

Alden blew a frustrated breath through his nose. “I’m gonna talk to them. You don’t have to come in tomorrow.”

Stacy didn’t ask if she would get paid anyway.

Today was a day and a half later.

Stacy had not been able to enjoy the time she had off. When she looked up the Mapped Physicality Database, results were disturbingly thin. But she kept her faith in Alden. He seemed to force obstacles out of his way through sheer rage.

But now he seemed desperate. The grey suit, so impressive one week ago, was suddenly crumpled. His eyes were fearful.

“Why did this happen?” Alden spread his hands like he was reaching for something. “Tell me what we did. Stacy. Tell me what the hell is happening.”

Stacy tendered her resignation. Alden didn’t say anything else. He turned and went into the back without acknowledging her.

Two days later, a week later, two weeks later, a month later. Stacy kept checking the suggestion service on her palm module. The shop didn’t reappear on the map.

Personal Topography

“Always have 3D glasses — you never know what you might run into.”

CR Anaglyph by Charles Robertson of Sediment Press

I talked on the phone with Charles Robertson of Sediment Press (remember cyberpunk Santa Claus?). He gave me that advice about 3D glasses. The above self-portrait, CR Anaglyph, is best viewed with such eyewear. I told him that I thought my readership was more likely to have 3D glasses than the average Joe, but I couldn’t guarantee anything.

Charles made the topographical map of his face using analogue methods — he lay on his back in a bathtub and had a friend take photographs while the waterline progressively rose. Looking at the snapshots later, he traced the waterline at different levels and compiled the tracings into one composite image.

We discussed maps, a recurring theme in Charles’ work. “You can represent a lot of information in a small space. […] A piece of eight-and-a-half-by-eleven paper can be an entire city.” He likes the aesthetic effect, too: “You set out to do something practical, but out of that you get these shapes, and colors, and geometries.” We talked about the homologies that arise from human design — have you ever noticed that a subway map looks like a computer chip?

Jo Liss on Twitter

Charles and his creative partner Tim Lovelace have been working on Sediment Press since 2011. They met at a screen-printing class. Now they live in different cities — Tim maintains a small studio in his home, and Charles does a lot of the design work, although each of them practices both parts of their craft. Sediment Press is fundamentally a collaboration.

We use maps to keep track of ourselves, where we’re situated. They are abstractions, never able to match the detail or roughness of real terrain. Yet maps also function as grounding devices. “I am here. These are the contours of my face. The context is clear.” Most maps are frozen in time — they represent a slice of eternity. If he had waited a week, the waterlines on Charles’ face would be different. Only a little, I’m sure, but different.

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