Published in Overland Issue Photonic Overland · Uncategorized Modulate a thousand times more Peter Wildman long theTime; color beBlue = color(0, 0, 253); long forNow; color beGreen = color(0, 255, 0); color theBleedingRed = color(255, 0, 0); long more = 2; long foreverInAMoment; void setup() { background(0); size(1000, 1000); theTime = 1000 * more; } void draw() { for(long ingTheTime = foreverInAMoment; theTime > 0; theTime −−) { set(int (random (int (theTime), (int (foreverInAMoment))), 222, theBleedingRed); } set(1+1+1+ int (random (1,1*1*1000+more)), int (theTime + (random (1+2,1000+more) )), 2+beBlue); set(int (foreverInAMoment) + int (random (1,1000)), int (theTime + int (random (1+2,1000+more) )), 2+beGreen); for(int thisMoment = 2; beGreen > 2 % 1000*more; //still thisMoment++){ } } Peter Wildman Peter Wildman is a media artist who has been messing around with technology ever since he was 12 and he successfully wired up a telephone line in his bedroom using sticky tape and al-foil. Since then he has been building interactive installations, teaching others to mess with technology and hacking his way around the world in code. More by Peter Wildman › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 22 May 2026 · Friday Poetry Judas goats Caitlin Maling Because goats can climb / and cave, clamber to find cover / in the bushes of what they can’t eat / which isn’t much. 20 May 202620 May 2026 · Reviews Are you experienced? Louis Armand Pam Brown’s poetry has been described as both conversational and deeply layered, its historical consciousness seemingly belied by a fragmentary, diaristic style. An easy comparison might be drawn with the work of her long-time friend Ken Bolton, which often achieves a sense of over-arching unity of vision expressed in monologue form. Bolton’s work can appear exhaustive — long prose-like stanzas — where Brown’s seems to flicker down the page like dawn through the mangroves on the drive to Cronulla.