Pioneering new vistas in technology, the Kanmusu are sentient autonomous ships.
Presented in the Person/Machine/Moment format
Life imitates art, and art imitates life
The virtual battlefields of the of the Cosmic Era
The Wastelands of the Cosmic Era
An arcanotech weapon system, also known as an implosion bomb, a Schwartzchild, or a Corrosion Warhead
Why would anyone want a child?
Another piece of retrotech favored by wastelander nomads, terrorists, and explorers.
Not every nation and faction can afford supersoldiers, power armor, or mecha. They have to innovate.
Mag Rails rose in prominence across Eurasia after the Resource Wars ended, and remain popular vehicles on the Silk Road and in wasteland areas.
Weaponoids are robotic weapons that intended to used by mecha or similarly large robots
Part of the New Themysciran Readiness Doctrine, there are dozens of Exalted Mothers in each of the island's major cities, each a 20 foot tall combat capable war droid.
Also known as A10s, synaptic amplifiers are both tools for cognet interface and fashion statements
The first documented virtual illness.
A mutation of Legionnaire's Disease, Space Sickness, or Space Lung, is a not uncommon malady of the Cosmic Era
A remarkable pilot in the Atlantic Federation Aerospace Force, the Cosmic Era incarnation of Audie Murphy
Dr. Carter is a well known (at least in academic circles) as an Indiana Jones-esque scholar of the occult and professor of pre-human culture, a Mars born swashbuckler in her youth, now a tenured and crafty acquisitionist.
The virtual police/help function of the CogNet
Formerly known as Annika Monroe of New Newark Arco #6
Also known as PPI or Brain Pumping.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...