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But the image of a Fender Stratocaster, dripping with foamy suds, covering the private parts of a nude model is stuck in your head now and your lizard brain isn't letting go of it any time soon.īy the time you haul your eyes back to the screen Walter has started yakking on about "maker culture". Walter's going on about how this isn't just about porn but is really a clever way of talking about the proliferation of ideas and resources in the internet era blah blah blah. In fact you are rather tempted to Google "Wet Riffs" and see what you find there, but think it's also rather likely to be NSFW. You follow the link and decide that yes, it is indeed rather amusing. It states simply that "pornography or sexually related material exists for any conceivable subject", and was featured as a rather amusing cartoon on the famous XKCD web comic. Rule 34 is one of those internet memes people keep talking about. it's all beginning to sound a bit avant garde to you. What's more, this is the second book in which Stross has pulled this stunt, the cheeky bugger! To write one novel in the second person may be considered misfortune, two is starting to look like carelessness. It's written entirely in the second person, like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books from when you were a kid, only better. What's he going on about this time?Īpparently some bloke called Charles Stross has written a science fiction novel called Rule 34. But no! It's that SF geek Walter with another one of his weird things.
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With luck the lovely Sam Jordison will have read your nomination for the Not the Booker prize. There's no response from the nice-looking date on Soulmates and no little red notifications demanding your attention on Facebook, so you click over to the Guardian's books website. You flick your mouse cursor over to the Firefox browser you're running from the same USB dongle that is providing your wireless internet access, all so spotty Gareth in IT services can't spy on what you're looking at. The boss has retreated behind her wall of pot plants after hovering over your shoulder like a huge and bothersome horsefly, peering at your computer screen as you attempt to explain the annual sales speadsheet. I t's 9:30am on a painfully dull Thursday morning in the office.