Digital Wanderer

We reached Heraklion, spotted a sign for the Knossos Palace with some difficulty, and turned toward it. It turned out to be close by, and on our approach, a local started waving his arms at us, inviting us into a parking lot. The parking lot turned out to be paid, but it had a toilet and a drinking water dispenser (not a fountain like in the US and Arkadi, but one with cups, like in an office,  so I wasn't lying in the last post). Then the guy showed us which way to go to the palace (about 100 meters). Along the way, we came across several more paid parking lots, and right by the palace itself — there seemed to be a free one. So this is a cute little scam the Cretans pull. We aren't mad, especially since the parking was cheap, and hey, it had amenities.

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Now about the Dyachenko spouses, who write together. Reviewers usually emphasize that the Dyachenkos write "social science fiction", that is, the kind where there are a lot of all sorts of reflections and people, but little action, technoid or magical fetishes. It seems to me that since you are writing entertaining books, everything should be in moderation — "philosophy" and toys for big kids in the form of blasters and fireballs.

Of course, descriptions of certain feelings and relationships turn out awesome for the Dyachenkos (at least in text form — I really don't know what would happen if you acted like the characters of their books in the real world). That's why they exploit this on a massive scale — everyone does what they do best. The main thing is not to get overly carried away with the same thing, otherwise it'll turn into endless chewing gum. So far, the Dyachenkos somehow manage to avoid this danger — even though the sci-fi ideas in their books aren't super-massive in scale, and there usually aren't that many of them, they are presented elegantly and don't look alien relative to the social component.

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https://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2007/aug/13/fashion.comment

A funny article in the Guardian about how nightclubs are bunkers with deafening noise and smells, whose patrons suffer so much they are forced to take drugs just to somehow endure it. And they also take photos of each other to prove to one another that they still exist. But in reality, nobody actually likes it there, and it's all just monkey posturing. You don't have to read the article at all, because I've just retold it for you. And the conclusion there is downright amusing: maybe it's worth at least pretending you're having a good time, since in a decade we'll be slitting throats for canned food in a radioactive desert anyway.

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