We will focus on ALL electronic psychedelic music. Genres do no apply, vibes do. We will release analog music using natural scales and frequencies to raise vibration and form magnificent energy on the dancefloor. Streaming and Download help. If you like Temporal Frequency, you may also like:. Let's Part in Style by Michelle Gurevich. EEP by Terrill Mast.
Intricately layered synthwave with an experimental edge and a pure pop heart. Purple Vellocet by Purple Vellocet.
City Hall in the City of Venus
Killer psych rock coming from Bilbao, Spain. Electric Intervals by Martyn Heyne. Dronolith by Blackwolfgoat. Two by 14 Foot 1. Besides, the Atomic Wars killed off lots of people and that kept growth down-for a while. But now, after a hundred and fifty years of world peace, Earth is bursting at all her seams. We've watered the Sahara Desert and tamed the rain forests of the Amazon and drained the fever swamps of Africa and converted the jungles of Panasia and Pacifica into rice farms. Those places are now supporting all the people they can support. The Cumchagwa is far beyond the general limit.
It's a sheltered valley, and they were able to heat it. But there's no room to expand. Fifty years ago, when the valley was closed to settlement, the population was five hundred, and everybody had plenty. Now they've got over a thousand people, and they can't increase production because there's no more cultivable land. They can't emigrate because there's no place to go. Every other spot on Earth is in the same fix. When the government, five years ago, offered to help construct spaceships for emigration to Venus, the Cumchagwa was the only area that responded.
That's why the ship is being built above the Arctic Circle. But what happened to the other ten spaceships? But I can tell you this: unless Venus is colonized successfully, you can look for serious trouble on Earth within a few decades. War, even. When a kettle boils, the steam has either got to go up the spout or blow the kettle apart. Venus is the only spout there is.
Three hundred? That would be like pulling one drop of water out of the ocean. Even if they got there safely-" "If they got there and signaled us," Jarvis interrupted, "there would be a new frontier waiting to be conquered. That would restore hope. The Six Nations would no longer be sitting around like dogs in a circle waiting to snap at each other's throats.
Venus would keep us all occupied. There'd be-" He broke off as a knock sounded on the inner door.
E-mail to a friend
Tal, being closest, got up from his chair. When he opened the door, however, there was nobody in the circular corridor. A slip of paper was lying on the floor. While the elder Roberts scanned the brief message, Tal decided what he was going to do. The only possible thing a decent son could do. South-central Alaska, as Tal was viewing it from the Seattle-Fairbanks jet liner, was a jumble of ice fields and snow-capped peaks. Fertile green farmlands occupied every possible valley. Alaska's wealth was in her soil. Two hundred years ago, almost no farms had existed here, and the total population of this huge northern territory - one-fifth the area of the entire old United States - had been no more than sixty thousand persons, including the almost legendary Indians and Eskimos.
Today Alaska had over a hundred million acres under cultivation and supported a population of thirty million. Tal's father had been reclining against the pneumatic cushion of the aisle seat, snatching a cat nap while his son studied the scenic panorama through the window.
But now he opened his eyes, and Tal spoke to him. Who is it doesn't want you to come back to the Cumchagwa? You never did say. He certainly didn't deliver it, at least not in person. As far as I know, he's still up in the Cumchagwa trying to stir up trouble. He has them scattered all over Nusa.
Om Child of Venus
They even staged a parade in New Chicago a week or so ago. After all, when your life is in danger-" "Threatened men live long," Jarvis interrupted with a smile. I'll stick around to see your children, son. Asa Painter?
Looks like Blackbeard the Pirate. All front. Inside he's just another little man trying to be a big one. He's been jealous of Miles Telford all his life. You know who Miles is? The leader of the group who are building the spaceship.
Ark of Venus - Clyde Clason - | Voyager Rare Books Maps & Prints
The ones who are going to Venus. Miles has been mayor of the Cumchagwa for twenty-four years, which means that he's won twelve elections. Asa ran against him in at least half of those elections and got licked every time.
That's hard for a certain type of man to stomach. You had nothing to do with the elections. But Miles is backing the Ark of Venus, and I'm in charge of building it. That's enough to make me one of Asa's targets. Oh, well! Ever see so many mountains in your life? We fly over it nearly all the way to Fairbanks.
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Over miles of peaks to cross. Fairbanks is an up and coming town. You'll like it. Sprawling between the Chena and the Tanana rivers, this was a flourishing city of over two million. It had miles upon miles of office and apartment buildings, three levels of streets with solar-powered rolling walks at each level , hotels as modern as those of Greater New York or Seattle, and shops where you could buy just about anything to be found elsewhere in Nusa. The plane they had to take in the morning was an antiquated ramjet.
She couldn't have done in her best days-and those were far in the past, before the invention of the pneumatic seat cushions that automatically adjusted to the shape of your body. This old crate had stiff, uncomfortable spring seats upholstered with green fabric. Tal had never flown under such primitive conditions. Once in the air, however, he forgot his discomfort. Up where they were flying, the Yukon was at its northernmost part, and when you crossed it you also crossed the Arctic Circle.
They had traveled a quarter of the way around the world, Tal mused, as his father pointed out their destination below. Consequently, Tal had plenty of time to look about while they were landing. The Cumchagwa was a broad, flat valley sandwiched between rows of jagged white peaks, and it looked like all the other farming country he had been glimpsing during the past two days. Beehive-shaped dwellings were scattered around the cultivated plots, and a small cluster of low buildings marked the site of the village at one end of the valley.
They were landing at the opposite end, however, and there was-yes, it really was the Ark of Venus. You couldn't mistake that gigantic horizontal cylinder; it gleamed like ten thousand mirrors even under the dull arctic sun. About twenty people were waiting to meet them at the edge of the tiny airport. Men and women, boys and girls-a typical group of farm families. The women wore black dresses and bonnets, and the men wore black suits and black hats. Tal himself had on the conventional garb of civilized Nusa, the sort of combination that millions of young men his age were wearing: a white artosilk shirt open at the neck, peacock-blue slacks, a white sport jacket, and a scarlet cummerbund.
Nothing wrong with these garments, but, there was no getting around it, up here they just weren't hi fashion.
maisonducalvet.com/riotorto-gay-dating.php Even his father was wearing dark clothing. Tal began to feel rather conspicuous. Tal's father had been cornered by one of the adult males.
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