future hardcore gamer

After losing his video games as a punishment, 4-year-old Adrian Cole woke in the middle of the night, determined to replace them.

He dressed, put on his winter coat and boots and climbed on a lounge chair to reach keys on the wall and unlock the dead-bolt.

Then Adrian got into his mother's 1990 Geo Prizm and drove to Home Video, a quarter-mile up Northland Drive, the main drag through Sand Lake. It was closed at 1:30 a.m. Friday, so he started back home.
-- Boy’s drive steers attention (via kotaku)

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dan simmons’ fiction

“I came back for my own purposes,” said the Time Traveler, looking around my booklined study. “I chose you to talk to because it was . . . convenient. And I don’t want you to do a goddamned thing. There’s nothing you can do. But relax . . . we’re not going to be talking about personal things. Such as, say, the year, day, and hour of your death. I don’t even know that sort of trivial information, although I could look it up quickly enough. You can release that white-knuckled grip you have on the edge of your desk.” I tried to relax. “What do you want to talk about?” I said. “The Century War,” said the Time Traveler. I blinked and tried to remember some history. “You mean the Hundred Year War? Fifteenth Century? Fourteenth? Sometime around there. Between . . . France and England? Henry V? Kenneth Branagh? Or was it . . .” “I mean the Century War with Islam,” interrupted the Time Traveler. “Your future. Everyone’s.” He was no longer smiling. Without asking, or offering to pour me any, he

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