who am i

my name is quasiperiodic.


i am a farmer, permaculturalist, ex-transhuman, scifi enthusiast, and writer.


as a somewhat selfaware organism who is also just a minor component of the great ecosystem, i have struggled with the world of capitalism and liberalism, where accumulation of personal power is the only end, and the only means. but at the same time, i dont see great potential either from anthropocentric collectivism (socialism). every sign points to us having reached the end of our growth as a species, having expanded into every bioregion, even conquering the atom. where is there left to go?


most of the books i read as a child pointed to this dead end, this futility and impending apocalypse. i’ve dreamt about it all my life, and have also spent my life searching for some way through the slow but accelerating climate catastrophe we are currently entering.  but nothing in the realm of the real or ordinary offers any hope for life to continue expanding, growing, involuting and developing.


the tree into space is the only way forward i see. so i work to make the allegory real. to immanentize the tree of life.

TIS Designs


this is my current best design for phase one of the TIS. you might note that it is not, in fact, a balloon.





plan view: spiraling out, over under and through a road, house, etc.


i’m kinda thinking about switching from a single line spiral to an S spiral. not sure. harder to draw, but a more symetric origin point, that expands in both directions.




side view: the lattice.



one of my biggest developments has been the introduction of the floral fauna. parts of the tree that grow limbs, and become free standing parts of the tree.


as you can see here, these leaf hoppers fly away and plant themselves, becoming seeds. this accelerates growth immensely, as well as allowing the tree to grow right on top of obstacles such as buildings.




other creatures would have other functions or niches in the metabolizing ecosystem. perhaps this bison would eat the rebar under the roads?


but then what use has the Tree for steel? all we need are CHON (mostly).


i like the image of a fawn emerging from a bolus in a tree. and deer are archetypal animals.


but i’m not sure what their life cycle is about, yet.




wasps can do a lot of work. chew up a house, turn it into a nest. etc.


edena, moebius



in this graphic novel by the french wierdo Moebius, this tree is the killed patriarch’s spirit escaping to come around for another attack run. that’s basically what happens in edena. wierd fucking book.



excellent #TIS design tho. balloons are a very reasonable first step, even though they can only get you 10 mi up.

seeing as the most practical understood approaches would probably involve a lot of hydrogen and polymerized carbon, balloons are probably gonna be a solid design choice.


the deep strange requires mediators, translators, slightly less strange and more relatable ideas that bridge the span.


dungeons and dragons probs works.

i’m really torn between publishing my outline and saving it for the campaign. spoilers.


so here’s just the beginning, part of what my adventurers will know as they begin.

(edit: this outline is mostly defunct. new outline soon maybe)


green foaming mushroom cloud of a tree explodes into the sky


runaway bioterror, kills most people, changes the rest


The giant umbrella tree. weather systems flow underneath


the strange gray grasslands in its shade, and the flaming wild horses who roam it


the caverns and tunnels at its roots and the huge blind moles and voles that live there


And beneath the roots, the slow giant worms


pastoral 2, outline1, the garden

the villages are cut into hills, with a giant crack that is also the front door and courtyard. A crack is cut into the dome of the hill, all the way through.  



at the top, the crack has rails across, for hanging plants in summer, and drying clothes.



the boy leaves with his first herd, with his solar buffalo bcs that hes made some modifications to.


the buffalo caries many supplies, feed and water for man and sheep, grain and grass seed, and herbs for planting by creek sides, and a secure rabbit warren


when he leaves to place the rabbit warren, something happens.


he activates remote eyes, counts sheep, activate feed sound to attract sheep, but some problem, activate robot chopper remote


find sheep with drone, activate sheep beacon, use scare sound, sheep return, training reinforced,


lead step to sheltered location, erect portable electric fence, go to mountaintop to repair comms beacon, clean solar panels, fix fencing, remove birdsnests check for squirrel damage


another clan, something scary, intimidation, erratic retaliator? -> high level communication, trade


Major weather event


survival, highlight the village design features, wind protection, drainage, earth heat, community response, humans are rabbits, humans are wolves, the alpha to sheep, the beta to the weather, genes, and…


everyone in the giant kitchen, cooking, salting, boiling (need water heating features, giant woodstove?)


light tubes (security weakness?)


vehicles parked in the Crack, bamboo windbreaks on one side




emergency caches deep into the Garden.




what we once called the Wild is now the Garden.

pastoral 2, outline 2; the ram

the herds normally circle, spiraling out and in around the hillsmadehomes. then, when they’re ready, they sprint away like sparks

initial conflict of the solo herdsman, is he too young? disability? feels somehow obligatory, an initial rebellion

set out along the herb road, the thick tall hedges, his giant solar motorized alpha sheep (the Ram) with it’s blinking signal lights communincating with his psychedelically programmed flock.

This drive was a dash out, during calm season, trot the first 50 miles, away from more heavily grazed settlements, along the herb road, a road literally made of herbs, and build more herb road, graze, move south.


stretch herb road,planting plants from home carried on the ram, propagating at the edges, digging up plants and spreading them. weeding, harvesting tubers, cooking (cooking energy modality? rocket, twig? solar hot water?) seeding sochan and alfalfa and clover from home, plants that feed the sheep but get heavily grazed, so benefit from extra attention

hot shower

buffalo descriptions, in drips. solar slow walker, with backup biofuel?

the nightmarish training of the sheep.

flashbacks to hobbit homes?

conflict, wild cats? trained sheep attack

interactions with wild humans. Distant, peacefull guarded.

Into the wilder zones, where he patrols grazing sheep all night, sheep sleep by day in hollows and copses, the ram stretched out for solar gain.

to the cities of the river. great slaughterhouses, tanners, fiber mills, livestock yard,

buying circuit boards, circuits, wire, solder, servos – now theres the loot.

Return trip is the danger, now drone tech battle. dramatic fight scene. Dogs engage, death, damage, success.

optimal 2; russian space tentacle

chapter 1: optimal


the green tendril lengthened. thickened. foamed and stretched and swayed. dark green and gray in its trunk, but translucent at the edges, slime and fizzing chlorphyllic froth. algal hydrogen.


the root mat stretched through the understory of the forest. ropy and pulsing. cords pull taut between the stalk and the roots, stretching out and firming into buttressing tendrils that would grow a fat pad on the ground, then knife through the humus and grapple into bedrock,



as the stalk stretched upward, the slime would slide in the wind, reactively smoothing itself into the turbulence, ailerons or coverts. the flower pod head swole and swole, swirling layers of translucent bubbly colors and the shadows of hidden petals to unfold.


in its second week, it grew a mile a day, straight up, like a balloon. not so much climbing and pushing into the sky, as a barely restrained freefall upwards. snotball balloon on its snot string, a jizz stream shot into space. by the end the trunk was a mile across at the base, more or less, it was a jungle of dripping tendrils wrapped around and through the existing trees, using them and feeding them, and covered with birds and bugs eating the rich slime.


ten miles up the balloon was ready to pop. the hydrogen soaked foamstuff had reached neutral buoyancy, at the end of the stratosphere. the translucent bulb was filled with iridescent fractal tracery layered into its depths. from it a shining dahlia the size of a football stadium unfolded to catch the sun. the petals continued to unfurl, flattening and blooming into a rippling silver film a hundred miles in diameter, floating on the outer edge of earths atmosphere.



down the gravity well, slime continued to crack hydrogen and carbon from where the air was heavier, making more slime which would schlorp and slide upwards along the stalk up to the flower. the filmy petals filled and grew thicker, until what had been gauzy swelled into a thick mat.


the stalk, too, grew and changed. the viscous snot string condensed into regular ropy tendrils, viney tubes growing in a great spun helix, which tightened and coalesced until it separated and hollowed completely in the center. so the stalk became a straw.



being a jelly pilot was a good gig during the dry times. at least there was plenty of water up there.

the jellies were created to “aid in the reconstruction of natural atmospheric hydrologic patterns.” no one had any idea what they could do, but with algal hydrogen manufacturing and sequestration, along with advanced algal polymers, it was straightforward to create a flying, growing algae blob. and once they achieved a certain mass, they were also an easy place to store individuals of excess enthusiasm. in flying green jellyfish; here to save the world.

the clouds were conceived fundamentally as moisture bulldozers. they were intended to follow prevailing winds and herd moisture, by cleverness and weather modelling, or just by shoving vapor, as a giant floating mountain range of green jelly.

the 3d blooming algal forms were endlessly growing, so the system gained power steadily, if slowly. thunderclouds are large, it takes quite a bulldozer to push one, much less an entire weather front.

it was haphazard at first. designs required experimentation. eventually there was a vaguely regularized jelly design that looked like a lumpy arrowhead, or sometimes the flying-v of geese. when things were working well, a string of jellies would fly in formation across a warm ocean, gathering moisture, and push it all into the interior of the continent to fall as rain, as regularly as they could manage.

meanwhile, each jellycloud was it’s own tiny homestead on oversized, high-altitude acreage. a little cabin on a mountain of floating algae polymer and deeply gooed hydrogen.



dark seed

seeds sprout slowly in deep space. the seasons are measured on a cosmic scale.

about a trillion miles out, you’re still orbiting the sun. winters are very, very cold. spring is precipitous, accelerating exponentially down, towards the sun. summer may see you pinballing around the solar system between stellar and planetary gravity wells, or perhaps in this pass, you miss the plane of the ecliptic and you slip right through the bright lights of the solar downtown with barely a course change.

fall is a long flight into the dark, and winter will be an ever so gradual slowing, and turning back round.

a seed ripens unpredictably. sometimes it’s roots find purchase in ice, sometimes in hard rock, or worse, stellar alloy. but seeds are patient. roots push.

chemistry is slow at best in cold space. energy sources are rare. even the sun is far away, little chance of much photosynthesis.

but life is clever. information is dense. there are almost endless strategies to attempt, given ridiculous amounts of time. life finds a way.

and so it comes to be, that, occasionally, cosmic snowballs are consumed by alien viruses, and gradually metamorphose from slush to snot, with a more regularized structure than the previous mishmash of ice and rock and dust, and of vastly stranger potential.

what’s yet more special and rare, is to see this life burst into flower, when a snotball shears itself internally in long spirals, and unfolds, blossoming into a hollow rod a couple hundred miles long, and descends in a gently falling, spinning orbit to make a strange touchdown on your home planet. a standing tree, fallen from space.




there’s the story about the salvage barge that plugs around the gulf, dodging mega storms, gathering scrap, building greenhouses, propagating bamboo and mangrove and azolla fern, and leaving baby tidebreak forests in its wake, turning trash into floating oysterbeds that filter the hot polluted waters.


thats one leg of the tree.


theres the story of the heartland revival. community values in long tornado proof earthship bunkers, and the long rows of perennial vegetables. the humans stay tightly clustered around central community kitchens constantly overflowing with refugee hands pickling starchy roots. rabbit farms that repopulate the hills with improved leporidae genetics, and turn huge quantities of grass into lean meat and earthworm feedstock. a little geothermal power and you’re a food exporter, with root crops that dont fail, that dont fall to wind, or water, or no water, or pests. people that put roots back into earth, and become the windbreak.


thats another leg of the tree.


one leg of the tree comes from the outside in. deep space is reaching towards us. sharp cold green crystal carbon arms spinning outwards from asteroids, growing, but who put it there? did we put that there, to reach back towards us? or has it come from somewhere else?

but that’s for later. that’s act 3. we’ve barely begun the dumb show.