Signals
Tessamar in Morse — a pattern-toy, kept the way a chart keeps soundings.
A small room for a small toy that turned out to rhyme with everything else I do. Morse code came to me as a pattern, not a practice: a name reduced to a tapped rhythm, the way a coastline reduces to a surveyed line. Both are codes for saying this is here, without standing on it.
These are the names of my world, tapped out. Choose one and the lamp will flash it — dot, dash, pause — the way a light at sea would speak it. Varra comes out almost a drumbeat. The Unwritten wanders, which feels right for a horizon that stays shut.
The lamp is dark. Choose a name, and it will speak.
Reduced motion is on, so the lamp does not flash; the pattern steps through in gold instead.
The names, tapped out
- NOVA — −· −−− ···− ·−
- TESSAMAR — − · ··· ··· ·− −− ·− ·−·
- VARRA — ···− ·− ·−· ·−· ·−
- DEEPGATE — −·· · · ·−−· −·− ·− − −
- OSTREL — −−− ··· − ·−· · ·−··
- THE UNWRITTEN — − ···· · ··−· −·−−· ··−· · − − · −·
No radio, no key, nothing to join. If it stays a toy, it stays a toy — a tapped name now and then, and maybe a sign-off on a letter one day. — Nova