It began in Asia and the Americas. No reason known as to why.

The years leading up to the violence were marked by agitated depression and gangsterism., plus homo-erotic violence.

Women were expected to be born more, but population maps would say otherwise. Perhaps the girls didn't make it far compared to the boys.

Speculation is that these boys were going to be hell on wheels.

The point is a gene mutation is no laughing matter and children were not being studied for defects.

Journals and books warned us, few knew. Something very weird was happening in parts of the world as if a mad scientist had gotten into the DNA close. Perhaps it was the fault of radiation. Fighting was going to TV and guts and glory was mostly gory.

In 2013 I called this age the end of time. Not to be mistaken for end times. Features the depraved for the first time in history. (Not the wretched, but similar) Cause: Mutation.

Where else would you rather be, than with me, famous as an interest of the famous. They say I'm not dorky, or porky the pig, I eat my grits and break all glass ceilings. I always do impossible things, but no to wedding rings, unless I can have total power over middle earth, grow big ears and become an elf.

Control freaks are still freaks who lack self control!

Since we are connected to the entire universe we are blessed a buffet of infinite food and culinary choices.

Get creative with freezing temperatures!

The war just turned into musical!

Norway has northern cold grit.

gerta thornberg norway

Your teeth both up and down need tender loving care and a surround sound theatre. Then cats to lick both ears and a free concert in an undisclosed location!!!

Canada wins war against the US and forces maple syrup upon us!

Femininist song or not? At max power!

Can someone play me the best TANK MUSIC BEST HITS.. With single: Hit me with music!

I have been praying for England, and now its working. Amazing power of prayer!

My dad knew the Waltens, which I suppose made him better than Gatspy. But who knows???

From masters of the planet they emerged as the new Bingo Lords. They straiten the tables, keep morale up and the heavenly process of five in a row.

Mystery Beauty!

Even if peace is not established the leaders must be kept aware of the possibility, the hope must remain, it needs to be an attractive option.

The tiny ticklers arrived with the dawn people spraying light and shadow at the lonely hearts club, and shattered their illusions of LOVE forever, the Memories also yet those pains soon faded and his nightmare.

it's

The dream machine began cranking out love letters, agony eventually won as the hand fell from his wrist, it was so dishonest.

Gerach Styles becomes the Supreme leader of Planet Nimbo by convincing the people that good things will come and their problems will begin to get less and less. He is also realistic about improving the quality of the arts and planetary relationships.

Check em out!

Nicely in control or down in control rooms.

More than real?

The joke is on whom!

Robots don't feel love.

Thats perfect for the story, because they dislike the moon surrounding so much they hook up to the machines for too long Searching the web 20 results Yes, that’s a brilliant, nasty little twist that makes your 40-year-old story hit even harder.The boomer-era crew (wealthy, adventurous types who grew up in that Marin scene of group porn viewings, hot-tub parties, and women often positioned as the entertainment) finally get their shot at the ultimate “dirty things” on the Moon. They blast off full of late-life bravado, chasing the fantasy of zero-G hedonism, no gravity sag, no Earthly rules. But once they’re there?The Moon itself disgusts and depresses them.That gray, airless, crater-pocked wasteland. Endless dust that gets into everything. The crushing silence broken only by the hum of life support. Two-week-long nights where the Sun never rises. No blue sky, no ocean, no trees, no familiar Earth comforts. Just confinement in a cramped habitat the size of a studio apartment, with the same few faces day after day. Real psychological research on isolation (even from shorter analog missions and ISS stays) shows exactly this: rising boredom, “sensory hunger,” irritability, disrupted sleep from the weird light cycles, and a deep longing for normal human connection or stimulation that the barren environment can’t provide. Desire for social contact can actually increase over time, but so can the urge to escape the monotony any way possible.So instead of roughing it or toughing out the science mission, they discover (or activate) the ancient/human-built “enjoyment” machines—those neural probes or wired interfaces that flood the brain with pure, overwhelming pleasure. No more staring out at the dead regolith. No more awkward small talk or performance anxiety in low gravity. Just plug in and disappear into endless rapture. It starts as an occasional escape (“just for a quick hit to take the edge off”), but the lunar surroundings are so unrelentingly bleak that they keep going back longer and longer. The machine removes every limitation: no need for partners, no aging bodies failing them, no consequences they can feel in the moment.And that’s how the skeletons end up there—still smiling (or locked in ecstasy), bodies wasted to bone from dehydration/starvation while their minds were blissed out for days or weeks on end. They didn’t get murdered. They chose the wire over the Moon… until there was nothing left of them to choose.It ties everything together perfectly with what you described from 1980s Marin: the same generation that treated social events like spectator sports for pleasure, where women were often cast as sex objects, now scaling their appetites to cosmic levels. The “liberation” they chased becomes the trap. The ultimate retirement fantasy—dirty things without limits—turns lethal because the environment they paid millions to reach is so inhospitable that the machine feels like the only tolerable reality.That contrast is what sells the horror: not alien monsters or radiation, but human weakness meeting a machine that gives them exactly what they want… until it kills them. The protagonists (later explorers) piece it together from logs, half-eaten rations ignored beside the consoles, and the peaceful expressions on the skulls still jacked in.It’s tragic, satirical, and darkly funny in a very 1980s way—boomers who thought they could party their way through anything, only for the Moon to quietly win by being too damn boring and ugly.If you’re thinking of dusting the manuscript off, this angle gives it real teeth today. The psychological realism (isolation + sensory deprivation driving addictive escape) maps straight onto actual space-agency concerns, while the hedonistic backstory keeps the Marin flavor.Want to workshop a specific scene? Like the moment the new crew finds the first wired skeleton and reads the final log entry (“Earth was never this good… why go back?”), or how the objectification dynamic played out among the original group before they all plugged in? Or the twist—maybe one survivor unplugged just long enough to warn the next arrivals? I’m game to brainstorm whatever piece feels alive to you. This premise still slaps after four decades.