spclnch

Upwellings – Lost Sanctuary | SL86

The professor sat on the terrace of an abandoned tech facility. Once, solar panels were tested here. Now, it looked as if even the Sun itself had lost interest. A few stubborn bushes survived thanks to the rain and defiance. Overhead, an old floodlight kept short-circuiting — a flicker in memory of shifts that would never happen again. Maybe silence had chosen this forgotten perimeter to speak finally. By his feet sat a flask of Japanese whisky — a gift from Cat. The very one given after their first clean mission. Spacelunch stared into the dark, trying to sense the outlines of life. Things used to be simpler. A home on Earth. A garage where a pet — once just a cat saved from a burning room as a cub — first spoke. “I should’ve never started those experiments,” he thought. But the images came anyway — the action, the laughter, the arguments — all of it made sense once, as long as someone was walking beside him, who could meow outside of protocol. Somewhere between the missions, the mistakes, the tall tales — their bond had dissolved. But by now, it was far too late to analyze anything.

Antenn – Det Synliga | SL85

The night felt almost mystical. The flickering of neon signs brought to life the trash bins and fire escapes — street romance in its purest form. But not everything fit together as neatly as it seemed. Foul-smelling steam rolled out from sewer grates. From deep within a nearby alley came distant screams, followed by hurried footsteps. Somewhere above, the shriek of a police drone was concealed by the noise of the district. Not far from there, at the corner of a food stall, Cat sat. Poking at cold noodles with a pair of chopsticks, he gazed at the stars and thought about home. Then, suddenly, he froze, his eyes locked at something in front. Someone was approaching fast, with a familiar stride. “Heads up, fluffy.” “Doc…” “We don’t have much time. Let’s shake hands and forget about the fight.” “You think you can just vanish and then reappear like nothing happened?” “I was being an idiot. I know that. But it’s not safe here. I’ll explain on the way.” Cat nodded and followed silently. Memory and logic tangled into a knot — clinging to the professor’s voice, his tone, his face. Something felt… off. It wasn’t just the apology. There was something weird about him. The doubt that was creeping through him gave way to determination. They had a lot to talk about.

Basicnoise – Echoes From Iconia | SPCLNCHBLACK02

SPCLNCH-BLACK continues: a series where minimalism becomes message, and sound drifts between the real and the imagined. Chapter two — “Echoes From Iconia” by Basicnoise. Shifting time layers, slow pulses, and distant patterns with no clear origin. The signal is a trace of something that was here — or still is. You listen. Something listens back. . Logbook. Exploration mission. Day 1. The planet is dead. An anomaly is detected — the time flow is slightly distorted. Day 2. Landed in the central crater. The clocks of our suits show different times from the clocks on the ship. The gap is increasing. Day 4. Logs contain records of events that never happened. A report of tomorrow’s evacuation appeared in the system. No one wrote it. Day 5. We found footprints leading from the landing site to the crater, identical to ours. The ship log was discovered nearby. Final entry: “Do not enter the crater.” Log transmission terminated. The crew did not reestablish contact.

Alexander Bogdanov – Traffic | SL84

Somewhere in the mobile lab… “As soon as the instructions have arrived, we will open the portal.” “Uploading the memory… and done!” Everything was going according to plan. Two figures in matte suits stood by the station where a smart bracelet was secured. Its flickering indicator showed that the synchronisation and data reading were in progress. The lines from the Protocol lit up on the holographic panel, along with Spacelunch’s face and the message: “Cloning completed successfully. Compatibility confirmed. Double awaiting command.” The professor’s copy looked more convincing than the original. The only thing left was to activate the teleport via a special procedure and send the double to Chinatown, for which the coordinates were preloaded. For millennia, the best minds of the Aerospace Corporation had built their reputation on cutting-edge tech. But at what cost? The Cybernetics Department had long mastered the art of acquiring — by any means necessary — external breakthroughs and weaving them into their own algorithms. This wasn’t just about innovation anymore. It was a confrontation. And its final result would be a delicacy for any of the Minimal Antagonist’s protégés.

spclnch podcast #93 / Asphalt Layer

They simply called it “The Laboratory.” There were no windows — only the hum of life-support systems and aquariums filled with lifeforms that defied classification. On evenings like this, Spacelunch would tune the setup, Cat would yank out unnecessary cables with his tail, and everything would freeze in anticipation of the signal. A deep, steady mix filled the space, seeping into reservoirs, consoles, and whispering sensors. Something flared, something trembled — as if the environment itself was trying to synchronize with the rhythm. Later, a new chapter would appear in the Professor’s log: “Sample 93.” @asphalt_layer