Is Anybody Listening?

I know you are out there.  I can hear you breathing.  More precisely, I can see the hits to this blog every day.  I know when specific posts are viewed.  Sometimes I can tell which other sites you use to link to my blog.  It is obvious that fifty hits in a single day from computers in Germany are most likely bots trawling the internet, but you aren't one of those.  Are you?

The reason I say all of this is because you are very important to what I do.  A writer creates a world and shapes it with words.  Words that readers either enjoy or despise.  Your feedback is what helps a writer refine their craft.

An artist knows people appreciate their work when studios put on shows and people come to appreciate the display.  Carpenters get validation when the furnishings they construct stay together and are treated well by their owners.  Fashion designers know their works are enjoyed when their models receive rounds of applause at fashion shows.  A writer's best source of feedback is comments and reviews.

If you read a blog post you enjoy, take a few seconds to leave a comment.  If you didn't enjoy it, take a few seconds to say why.  After you read a book, leave a review with the retailer you purchased the book from, even if it's only a star rating.  This gets back to the author and gives them more information than just a sales report.  

Did readers fall in love with the characters?  Was the story exciting or just drawn out?  Was the universe in which the story takes place believable?  With so much of the story in the author's mind, they don't always have the same impression as a reader would.  Only a reader can say what they did and didn't like about a book or story.  Since authors don't tend to be telepathic, you, as a reader, must let them know.

Just as an artist can alter their color palette to evoke different feelings, a writer can use different words or develop their characters more to get the same result.  The only way they know if the story is a beloved one is through your feedback.

I am asking you, the wonderful reader, to start the new year with a mission.  When you read a blog post, leave a comment.  After you finish a book, rate it.  Let the author and the rest of the world what you thought about the author's efforts.  Feel free to start with a comment on this post right here.

News Update

The theatrical release of the newest Star Wars movie is upon us all, whether we like it or not.  With the movie being featured in many news broadcasts and being mentioned on many networks, why not mention other science fiction franchises as well.  For today's post, I bring you an average news broadcast complete with anchors, sports, and traffic.  Just like you would see on any day from your local station, almost.

Thank you for tuning into IGIN, your Intergalactic Information Network. This is Colickner Smith with your headlines for this cycle. Tonight I am assisted by the lovely and tentacled Chrissy Frageelei. We have Then'teknor Beckham with sports and Major Captain Major reporting on the traffic throughout the interstellar routes.

Our first headline comes from the United Federation of Planets. It appears a temporary alliance between the Federation and two of their neighboring empires has become an extended cease fire and a longing peace. The final details of the treaty will be negotiated at an assembly on the Babylon 5 station in orbit around Epsilon III in the Epsilon Eridani system. All of us here at IGIN wish these three interstellar organizations the best of luck with their future endeavors.

Now we go to Then'teknor for a story from the world of sports. What do you have for us Then'teknor?

Thank you Colickner. This planetary cycle I have a story of controversy from the directors of the Kessel Run Racing League. The pilot of a light freighter is claiming to have made the Kessel Run in only twelve parsecs. The KRRL is looking into these claims and the possibility of the folding of space while traveling in hyperspace. Investigators are trying to determine whether or not the pilot managed to manipulate conditions and complete a run shorter than is allowed by League rules and regulations.

A final report of the investigation is expected later this cycle. We will have that report and the scores from the finals of the latest Blitzball tournament in a later broadcast. Back to you Colickner and Chrissy.

Thank you Then'teknor. I'm sure many of our viewers are looking forward to those Blitzball scores, especially all the Aurochs fans out there. In a little bit we will hear from our interstellar traffic and navigation expert Major Captain Major. Following that will be a special report from Chrissy Frageelei. First, a quick report on the loss of one of our fellow broadcasters.

It appears much of the signals from the broadcaster known only as Mr. Universe have all but ceased. His systems are still relaying signals, but there are no more of his original shows being broadcast. Many fans have stated their disappointment at the loss of any more future demonstrations of his skills in realistic humanoid robot construction and programming. The signal was interrupted briefly after a large battle between a number of Alliance battleships and a fleet of Reaver craft. The exact involvement of a single Firefly-class cargo ship is unknown at this point.

Now we come to our traffic and navigation update from Major Captain Major.

The completion of a hyperspatial expressway through sector ZZ-ZZZ-Alpha. The construction contractor states that a planet in the path of the expressway has been more difficult to remove than initially estimated. Further bureaucratic red tape has been blamed for delays in the new expressway.

On another note, an update to standard navigation systems is being made. A large debris field now orbits where the planet Alderaan was once located. Navigators are discouraged from using a large moon-like object that has been spotted in the system as a reference point for their flight plans. A full release of updated star charts is expected momentarily.

Thank you Major. Finally we look to Chrissy Frageelei for a public interest story.

Thank you Colickner, and thank you to all you viewers tuning in this planetary cycle. My story touches on something that many peoples consider just an urban legend and myth to be dismissed.

Almost every intelligent species, race, and civilization discovered has one item in common. An encounter with something described as only a rectangular blue box. Encounters range from ancient references to modern sightings and recordings. Descriptions of the occupants of the blue box always include bipedal humanoids, but the details vary widely. The supposed leader of the crew of the box has been described as both young and old. Different witnesses have given widely different estimates of his age throughout history. His lack of a consistent appearance is one of the reasons many consider him a figment of the imagination despite the reliability of those making claims of encounters.

Adding to the story is the recent addition of another mysterious structure. While sightings are still limited, some speculate that this new building with the word “DINER” above the entrance may become nearly as popular a legend as the blue box. Anyone seeing either object is encouraged to contact your local law enforcement department. The producers of this show and IGIN executives also request witnesses also contact them on a frequency of 867/5309 with their story.

Thank you Chrissy. We will all be a look out for these legendary figures. That concludes our broadcast at this time. On behalf of Chrissy Frageelei, sportsman Then'teknor Beckham, and navigation expert Major Captain Major, this is Colickner Smith wishing all of you peace and long life.

Did you recognize all of the franchises mentioned?  Are there more you would like to see included in a future news broadcast?

All Done

November 30th has come and gone.  My verified word count for the National Novel Writing Month challenge is 50,079 words written in 30 days.  On my fourth try, I am a WINNER!  I am excited, exhausted, relieved, and satisfied.  Now the more serious work begins.  I have to finish the story and seal up some plot holes.  There is tons of editing that needs to be done.  A title needs to be settled on.  A cover image needs to be chosen or made.  Writing the story is only the beginning and the easiest part of getting a novel out to the public.

My brain cells continue to recover as I take a slower, more careful look at the words I have written.  Today's post is one of the epilogues from the end of the book.  If you wish to read the book once it is completed, this shouldn't be too much of a spoiler.  In the meantime, enjoy.

News is being broadcast all over the station. A hidden corinthum processing plant had been located on the planet below. The discovery was due to an issue arising with some odd residue being discovered in a secondary power system for the station. An operation by Sector Security's elite enforcement officers led them to the storage room full of slag. From there it was easy to track down the processing center on the planet and its supply of raw corinthum and other minerals.

Timothy “Timmy” Van Hausen sits in his office when the news comes across his terminal. Without even thinking about it, he compiles a few files together. The files are attached to a message that also includes the names of a number of the people on the orbital station. Names of people that Timmy has worked with in unofficial ways for some time. Timmy's contacts on other stations in other systems also go into the message. The captains he had recruited to collect and transport slaves and their ships were also mentioned. Finally Timmy signs the message with his personal identification code to show the contents are from him and not part of any official procedure or communique. The message is sent to the station's commander, the Sector Security Deputy Director in charge of this region, Timmy's own direct supervisor, and a number of other administrators and officials.

Once the message is sent, Timmy shuts his terminal down and stands up. Despite the fact it's less than halfway through his work day, he walks out of his office with the feeling he won't be back. A short lift ride brings him to the commons. There he sits down at an empty table and waits for someone. He isn't sure who and how long before they arrive, but he will sit here and wait as long as it takes.

This novel is a sequel to my first NaNoWriMo attempt and published novel, Dangerous Stars.  Pick up a copy and get to know the characters while I finish up their second adventure.  Go.  Read.  Enjoy.

Grinding

Since November 1st I have been with hundreds of thousands of writers around the world grinding away at our stories.  50,000 words in 30 days is obtainable for some and a target to be chased after by others.  This is the challenge of National Novel Writing Month.  While I work on filling out my own story, here is a sample of what I'm working on now.  It is the sequel to my first novel, Dangerous Stars.

The ship's AI quickly consulted records for the answers to Lss'Tor's questions. “Brenneth 5 is a basic class M planet. It was settled by a large contingent of religious zealots from Earth with no terraforming required. Previous persecution and religious tenants caused the planet to become isolated. They have no interstellar exports or imports. Sector Security has no presence in the system at all. The nearest sizable forces are in the Maitland system. The remoteness of the star system means that it isn't on any civilian cargo routes or flight paths. We are one of three ships within range of the broadcast. One is an unarmed interstellar scout heading out to explore further outlying systems. The other is a Sector Security battle cruiser returning to the Maitland system from a round of system upgrades.”

Christian speaks up while everyone else is still considering the tactics of their current situation. “There is nothing to decide here people. Interstellar code requires that any ship within range of a distress signal respond if they are able. We are still heavily armed, our cargo isn't critical, and we can leave this pursuit for someone else to pick up.”

Traylor chimes in with her opinion. “Christian, you are simply spoiling for a fight. The battle cruiser can handle things themselves. They don't need us. Besides, we've been warned against converting the KRENNET into combat mode where Sector Security ships could detect us.”

Christian's determination came through his voice. “That battle cruiser can't defend an entire planet by itself. There may be evacuating shuttles that need to be protected. Even an isolated planet will have industrial facilities that would be vulnerable. One simple shot from me and the tracking device will be on this damn Raider. Then we can do what needs to be done.

As for the battle cruiser detecting us while we convert, that's simple. We just enter the system in combat mode. Crystal can alter our transponder to broadcast a false signal. The cargo ship KRENNET won't be anywhere near the Brenneth system as far as anyone knows.”

Granek's rumbling voice cuts through any further discussion. “We are a crew of equals. We will decide which course to take by majority decision. Each of you state 'Pursue' if you feel we should stay on mission or 'Rescue' if you believe we should go to the aid of Brenneth 5. Crystal, could you please record the votes into your protected core for future review?”

“Protected memory ready for recording.”

Granek once again speaks in his rough tone. “Understood. I will call each of you by name for your vote. My position is 'Rescue.' Traylor?”

“I say 'Pursue.'”

“So noted. Christian?”

“It should be obvious, 'Rescue.'”

“So noted. Lss'Tor?”

“Purssue”

“So noted. Fezror, the vote comes to you.”

The engineer's rarely heard voice is soft yet clear enough for everyone to hear. “I can't simply let an entire planet remain in harm's way again. I say 'Rescue.'”

Granek stated what everyone now knew. “By majority decision we will be breaking off our pursuit of the Raider attack craft after planting a tracking beacon on its hull. We will convert out of combat mode to allow for more speed to the Brenneth system.

Now, where did I leave off at.....?   

Shameless Plug

Another page of the calendar has been turned.  It is now November.  Fall is in full swing.  The baseball season has ended and football is roaring forward.  Piles of empty Halloween candy wrappers are growing by the day.  Lawnmowers are mulching more leaves than trimming blades of grass.  All of this can mean only one thing.  NaNoWriMo is in full swing.  Thousands and thousands of writers are attempting to write 50,000 word novels in 30 days.

People all over the world are sitting down to notepads, typewriters, and laptops to express themselves through words.  They are receiving support from other writers through pep talks and write-ins.  Most importantly they are all creating in a way that they want to.

This is my fourth year attempting the NaNoWriMo challenge.  I have yet to reach the 50,000 mark in any one attempt, but my first two tries are now published novels.  My first book, Dangerous Stars, taught me much about how a book is written and made.  Post Exodus was picked up by an independent publisher, Amazing Things Press.

Now, I am a little behind in my word count and there are some characters waiting to see what will happen to them next.

Hard fiction

Some time ago I entered a contest to have a story made into an audio drama.  The contest highlighted tales of "hard fiction."  That is science fiction stories with technology that is feasible from our current level of knowledge.  Time travel and faster-than-light travel weren't options, but things virtual reality, holographic performances, and basic artificial intelligence were possible.

I decided to consider what non-lethal methods law enforcement could use in the near future.  Capacitors in modern electronics can hold an electronic charge for some time.  If someone improperly handles a charged capacitor they can receive a little shock.  What if that amount of charge could be raised and the capacitor fired from a modified handgun?  This would basically give an officer a taser with the range of a pistol.

I also explored the expansion of Google glasses.  The data from IR and motion detectors, computers with blueprint data, personal data devices, and the equivalent of GPS transceivers all relayed to the wearer's heads-up display.  A SWAT or similar unit could coordinate their movements and monitor the suspects without putting anyone else at risk.

I am Christian Thomas, a captain in the Elite Legal Force of the LSC. I lead an eight member team on a mission to protect the residents that rely on us. Our training focuses on a combination of hand-to-hand combat and an array of nonlethal weapons. We are frequently called upon to execute raids on residences and warehouses in order to confiscate contraband items. Today's assignments was no different.

It is nearly time. Hundreds of man hours had been used researching and and tracking this one group. The sting to stop these smugglers in their tracks would keep all that time from having been wasted. All the intelligence my team would need had been downloaded into our individual digital interface devices.

With the touch of a button, the visual interface of my goggles activates. Weeks of training followed by many months of field use allows me to quickly transition between the digital display and the outside world. A floor plan of the building before me is projected in a semi-transparent manner. A real-time infrared scan of the building is being relayed to my interface. The occupants are all marked by sharp red dots. I could see them clearly as they moved from room to room. Their activities could easily be considered those of a typical warehouse operation. However, once the illegal items were removed, all activity here would cease.

White dots surround the storage facility on numerous approaches. These represent my fellow team members. I make a mental note as each person reaches their assigned positions. After a few seconds, the white dots start to turn green as my team members signal their readiness. I check my standard-issue stun pistol to make sure it is ready. I have done this numerous times tonight, but it was a trained habit to check it at each stage of an assault. It was fully loaded with 25 rounds, each carrying enough of an electrical charge to knock out a full grown man.

All of the target subjects were moving around some large boxes in the middle of the main storage area. It looked like we were making our raid at the right time, they were preparing their contraband for distribution.

A second glance through the digital display of my goggles tells me that the rest of my team has signaled their readiness. I press a small stud on the device at my hip to signal my preparedness. This starts a simultaneous countdown on the goggles of each team member. When the number reaches zero, we all spring into action.

I kick my way through a side door into the building as my teammates charge through other doors and crash into windows. Not a single word is uttered as our movements are coordinated through the digital displays on our goggles. We rush from the side hallways into the main room. Our pistols let out a signature sizzling pop as the low-velocity rounds are fired at figures milling around the crates in the center of the floor. A handful of them drop limply to the ground before the group is aware of our presence. There is no time for them to mount any kind of resistance before the only people still on their feet are the members of my team.

The perpetrators were rounded up as they regained their senses. The contraband was sealed into crates and marked for disposal. Chalk up another victory for the Lunar Security Corps.

How far do you see some of today's technology going?  What are some other uses for future advances?

The Power of Art

Great art has always had the power to move people.  Images have inspired feelings.  Symbols move groups to revolution.  One evening I wondered why the power of art couldn't be more literal.  This story was written with the help of the viewers of a live Ustream I did a week ago.  I may do it again in the future sometime if enough people are interested.

I am in a dark alley. Two creepy dudes are blocking my way out. To them I appear unarmed. They don't know how accurately the term “armed” describes me. As they both advance, one of them whips out a switchblade and the other brandishes a bat. If they knew how much I could do, they would run away.

I innocently raise my empty hands and my the glow from a nearby lamp shines on the tattoos that cover my arms from my wrists to the cuffs of the sleeves of my t-shirt. I speak in a calming voice down the alley, “Come on guys. You don't want to hurt me.”

They both take another step forward. The creep with the knife is spinning the blade in his hand. “If you hand your wallet then we won't hurt you, much.”

I lower my hands and cross my arms in front of my chest. I grin at their threat and the surprise they will get when I reveal what I can do. “That isn't much of a reason for me to do what you want. What's to stop me from simply pushing past you two and walking out of here?”

The guy with the bat looks questioningly at his partner and grips the handle tightly with both hands. The other creep pulls out a second knife and swishes them through the air with practiced movements. If almost anyone else were trapped in this alley by these two, they would certainly feel threatened. I, on the other hand, know I am completely safe. The two creeps would be realizing their mistake momentarily.

I lower my arms to my sides, subtly running a finger along one of the tattoos on my right arm. The ink is a picture of a longsword with a red jewel in the pommel. As I position my feet in a fighting stance, the same sword appears in my right hand. Light sparks off the sharp blade. The two men pause in their advances and movement. I grip the sword in both hands and look around it at the surprise on their faces.

“Now, I ask again, what is to stop me from simply pushing past you two and walking out of here?”

The guy with the knives takes a step back and looks at his partner again. “He's all yours H, take him out. Maybe we can pawn that toy sword of his somewhere.”

What followed couldn't fairly be called a fight. A few times the bat clanged off my sword. I finally disarmed H and pressed him and the guy with the knives out of the alley. They didn't say another word as they turned and quickly walked up the street, glancing back a couple of times to make sure I wasn't following them.

The drawing of my sword was something I had been able to do for a few years now. The power to do it was much older, it had been in my family for generations. When a young man reached the age of 20, he inherited the power from his father. The father then lost the power and traditionally would train his son in its use. There always seemed to be a son for these abilities to move on to, regardless of whether one was wanted or not. The only major difference from one person to the next was the exact manner in which the power was utilized. There was no way to dictate how one should use images to create.

I don't mean something as basic as looking at a blueprint and building something from it. The power that has passed through my family lets us take an image and give it life. Summon it if you will. One of my great-great-great-great-great grandfathers used a book of religious images to call forth angels, demons, and holy knights to do his bidding. They didn't last very long, but certainly had an impressive look to them.

My dad kept catalogs and magazines around the house. He would keep a supply of pictures cut out of them in his pockets. If he needed anything, it just took a subtle reach in to his pocket and he could pull the perfect item out. Tools, weapons, a comb or razor, it didn't matter. All of them were right there at his fingertips. It was only a concern when his pants got wet. Then he would have to hit the magazine racks to resupply himself.

I decided to go a bit edgier. When I reached the age of 16 and was told what was going to happen to me, I knew I couldn't just touch a picture and call forth the item. I had to go to an extreme. I make the pictures part of myself and get tattoos. Then I could just touch the proper section of ink and do what needed to be done.

The sword I used on the punks in the alley was my first piece of ink. Others came over time and I perfected the skills each gave me. If I touch a snake that was drawn on my left bicep, the fingers on my left hand would poison someone with a simple touch. Interesting things also happen if I touch to activate other tattoos like a ball of fire, a lightning bolt, or a skull.

Not all of my tattoos came with such simple On/Off switches. For some reason I still don't understand, the cartoonish angel and devil on opposite sides of my neck won't ever shut up. They each keep giving me their opinion ever time a decision must be made. Even when I don't ask for it. If only I knew how to get just one of them to shut up. The truly maddening part is that they have exactly opposite views of everything. One wants to turn left, the other wants to turn right. Sometimes I'm tempted to split the difference, keep going straight, and hit a wall. I used to wonder why my dad suggested I get them as my powers grew. These days I wonder why I actually listened to him this time.

I stroll into my favorite tattoo parlor and look around for something inspiring among all the samples on the walls. There was still some space between the wings inked on my shoulder blades that would let me fly around town. Maybe I could do something creative with a Hellhound. I could get something just for decoration this time...or not.

What tattoo would you get and what power would it gain you?  Leave a comment and let me know.

Coming Soon

A entire day spent waiting to see if I was going to be on the jury of a civil case and numerous days with very little sleep have all left me physically and mentally drained.  I simply don't have it in me to come up with a story for today's post.  So that I post more than a blank page, I will put up a preview of my next book. Post Exodus.  The wonderful folks at Amazing Things Press are currently giving the book a thorough round of editing before it gets released.  In the meantime, enjoy the introduction.

 Prologue

Excerpts and transcripts from media reports during and after construction of the Arks.

“Scientists from many disciplines and countries are predicting a tragedy that would mean the end to all humanity and a total end to all life on Earth. Numerous astronomers have sighted a large meteor on a collision course with the Earth....”

“Engineers from NASA, ESA, the Russian Space Agency, and CNSA have all come together to cooperatively design large ships that could carry thousands of people safely into deep space....”

“Protesters around the world have started demonstrations in countries that do not have their own space agencies or launch facilities. They are expressing concerns about their respective cultures being forgotten due to a lack of representation on the Arks.”

“A fleet of cargo ships carrying supplies and equipment arrived in the port of Ras al Khafji today. The shipments were made in order to build launch facilities in the Middle East. The international Ark Organization has stated they are doing this for two reasons. The first is to ferry laborers to the orbital construction platforms where the Arks are being built. The second reason is a show of appreciation for the drastic lowering of petroleum prices during this time of global crisis.”

“Protests have all but ceased as people from countries around the globe begin to move themselves into their cabins on the Arks. The only vocal group still clamoring to be heard is insisting that no human beings be left behind on Earth. They strongly feel that those who wish to stay be removed from their homes by force. A military General stated, on the record, that he would forcibly move those folks on the condition that the protesters give up their spaces on the Arks to make room. No response to this statement from the protesters has yet been made.....”

“Cheers could be heard around the world today at 7:00 am Greenwich Mean Time as the engines of all the Arks were simultaneously engaged. While there is still some work left to be completed before launch, the engines now make the Arks self sufficient and significantly closer to being ready for launch.”

“Welcome from the inaugural broadcast of the ArkNet, a news and information channel for the residents and crews of the Arks. The final Ark, named Argos, boarded the last of its resident passengers and sealed the outer doors to the living quarters just yesterday....”

“The first Ark to be officially completed, affectionately dubbed Noah, passed its final checks and has been certified as spaceworthy....”

“We are entering the final month of ArkNet. As the Arks continue to head out on their respective courses, the distances between them will continue to grow and require too much energy to maintain constant contact between us all. Before we start our farewells, there is a remarkable greeting that needs to be extended. The first confirmed child conceived on the Arks was born this morning. Rick and Julia Johnson of the Enterprise welcomed their son Kirk to our journey....”

A release date hasn't been set yet, but it should be soon.  When the big day is announced I will proudly display it on my Facebook page and Twitter feed.

A Supernatural Detective

In this modern time crime is ever-present and in all aspects of life.  Law enforcement organizations often have detectives that specialize in one type of crime or another.  Homicide detectives look into incidents of one person killing another.  Individuals of the narcotics division do their best to keep the streets safe from those that sell illegal drugs.  There is no reason why there couldn't be a department that focuses on crimes related to a world many don't believe exists.

Pulling a little from Jasper Fforde's Nursery Crimes Division novels, the Harry Dresden books of Jim Butcher, and numerous stories and tales of the Faerie Kingdom interacting with the modern world, I thought a little bit about a police detective that involved magic.  What tools would he use?  What kinds of evidence would he discover?  How would he track down and arrest suspects?

It was raining again.  Or still, I couldn't be sure.  This time of year an evening shower was to be expected.  This storm, however, seemed to be particularly oppressive.  My trenchcoat was quickly dripping water on my boots as I got out of my car.  I do my best to keep the falling water out of my eyes as I look up the height of the apartment building before me.  I had been called here to visit an apartment about halfway up, on the fifth floor.  I didn't know which window on that floor belonged to the room I needed to visit, but the shadows crossing one set of thin curtains seemed particularly active for such a dreary night.

I climbed the five flights of stairs despite the elevator in the lobby appeared to be working just fine.  With the types of law breakers I tended to chase, being contained in a box as it quickly rose dozens of feet above the ground wasn't an ideal place to be.  That and my general lack of exercise combined to make the ardous trek up the stairs a better option than the otherwise modern convenience of the elevator.

Stepping off the stairwell landing it was immediately obvious to me which apartment was the one where my presence was required.  The two street officers standing on each side of a door decorated with a single stripe of police tape were only slightly less of an indicator than a giant neon sign would have been.  My trained and finely tuned senses caused my skin to crawl and the hair on the back of my neck stand up straighter than a flagpole.  This told me the crime that took place was indeed one that required my talents.

I showed the officers my detective's badge as I pushed the apartment door open and walked in like I owned the place.  A hall stretched away in front of me with a door leading to a room on either side.  The other end of the hall opened to a larger room.  The flash of a camera and subdued conversation of the crime scene techs pulled me that direction.  Reaching the end of the hall I saw it opened to a kitchen and dining room on one side and cozy living room on the other.  The technicians were doing their best not to step on each other as they attempted to collect evidence around a body laying in the middle of the living room floor.

At a glance it appeared the unfortunate deceased was an older woman.  Without confirmation from a coroner, I would guess cause of death to be simply old age.  She looked like a dried out husk of a human being.  Her skin was wrinkled and her hair was splayed out on the floor in thick white strands like an angelic glow shining from behind her head.  What struck me as odd was her clothing.  I hadn't encountered many women in their 80s wearing the latest club scene fashions.

Looking around the room I could see a number of pictures of groups of young people and a few of a young couple smiling at the camera.  There was one person consistent in all of the images.  I supposed she was the victim's granddaughter or great-granddaughter.  She was attractive enough that I was almost tempted to go against my lifelong rule about not personally informing next of kin.  Almost.

I walked up to the head technician and looked at him knowingly.  "What do we have here Mickey?"

Mickey glanced my direction and opened his notebook.  "There were no signs of forced entry.  The landlord had to unlock the deadbolt and doorknob for an officer doing a wellness check requested by the resident's sister.  There are no indications of a struggle and the neighbors haven't heard anything from in here for days despite frequent guests in the past."

Mike turned the page in his notebook, glanced at the words, and looked me directly in the eyes as he recited the next set of facts.  "The coroner has come and gone.  He declared the cause of death to be heart attack due to advanced age and dehydration.  The victim has been identified as Genie McCallister.  A 23-year-old legal secretary at a firm downtown."

I blinked quickly at this last statement and looked again at the woman on the floor before me.  I would have estimated her age at no less than 70.  I honestly would have guessed at an age closer to 90.  There was no way anyone would have mistaken her for 23.  I changed my mind about the young woman that all the pictures around the room had in common.  It wasn't the resident's descendant, but the resident herself.

I reached into a deep pocket in the inside of my coat.  Fingering past several familiar shapes I grasped a smooth crystal and extracted it.  I then looked over at Mike and gave him a quick nod before stepping to the body and standing with my legs straddling over it.  I held the crystal out before me and started an ancient chant in a language that was considered dead before Latin became popular.

Mike gestured to the other technicians and started to walk back towards the hallway leading out.  "Come on boys, let's give the detective the room."

As I was left alone in the room with the deceased victim the crystal in my hands began to glow brightly and become cold in my grip.  I could feel an tingle in my spine as aetheral energies flowed through me and into the crystal, seeking out any residue that might be in the area.  As I watched figures and shapes began to rise from the crystal and take form.  They coalesced into the characters that made up the alphabet of magic itself.  While I didn't immediately recognize the words being formed of light in front of me, I could tell enough about them to determine their intended use.  It was a spell to draw the life force out of a being quickly, aging them decades in a matter of seconds.  As I couldn't see any part of the spell indicating a destination for the life force, I could only assume it was being stored somehow.

I ceased my chanting and held my pose until the crystal's glow faded away completely.  Putting it back into its pocket in my trenchcoat I exchanged it for a small tin containing a powder specially mixed for me by a friendly woman that happened to be the direct descendant of an Ancient Oracle.  Putting some of the powder in the palm of my hand I closed my eyes and pictured the letters I had just seen emerging from the crystal.  I opened my eyes and quickly looked at the powder.  Some of the silver components in it had migrated to one side of my palm.  This was the side that was facing towards the kitchen.

As I turned and moved towards the kitchen the silver in the powder shifted to point me towards a space between the small table and fridge.  The silver flecks in the powder centered themselves in my palm when I stepped behind one of the two chairs slid under the table.

I returned the powder to its tin and put it back in the deep inside pocket with the crystal.  I reached to the back pocket of my pants and withdrew a simple notepad with pen attached.  I opened it to a clean page and made a quick note of the date and address of the apartment building.

I once again closed my eyes and began a chant different than the one I spoke over Genie's body.  Instead of maintaining a flat tone, my voice rose as I came to the end of each phrase.  It could easily sound to anyone listening like I was asking a series of questions over and over.  This was amazingly accurate.  I raised one had into the air in front of me around the area the powder had indicated.  My other hand gripped the pen and held it against the page of my notebook.

My raised hand began to feel cooler and cooler as a field of snow appeared before my eyes.  A set of strange footprints led towards some barren trees nearby.  In the distance was a familiar castle built entirely of ice.  The pen in my other hand began to make a series of marks on the paper.  Nothing like the characters that the crystal generated earlier, these marks were much more organic in appearance.

After a minute I stopped my mysterious questioning and opened my eyes.  The snowy field vanished instantly and I could once again see the walls of the apartment.  My raised hand warmed to room temperature quickly and I closed my notebook before replacing it in my back pocket.

I now had the first few things I needed to figure out who had invaded Genie's apartment and taken her life force.  They had opened a portal to the Winter Realms of the Fae Kingdoms and strolled right through.  The marks I made in my notebook indicated the energy used opening the portal was from a middle level resident of the Kingdoms.  Now I only needed to compare the marks to a few records and ask a few friends form the other side of the Veil to narrow down the list of suspects.

Do you think Law and Order: Faerie Kingdoms could become a thing?

Cover Art

A lot of work goes into a book's release even after the writing is done.  Editing for proper grammar and consistency in the story.  Deciding on a font and size of print.  Coming up with a quick blurb for the back of the book or inside cover.  

However, before any of that can be noticed, a cover must be developed that catches a reader's eye and conveys an idea regarding the theme of the book itself.  With that in mind, the folks at Amazing Things Press have come up with a cover for my next book, Post Exodus, that I think fits this bill rather well.

As the cover isn't completely "official" yet, I can't publicly display the whole thing yet.  I can give out a little preview though.

There will be more to come over the next few weeks.  You can get more frequent updates on my Twitter feed and Facebook page.

An Onerous Task

With the right choice of words and structure, even the most everyday of tasks can become an exciting narrative.  With a simple change in how things are described can give a new perspective on even the most tedious of chores.  Shedding a new light on how things are seen can add a degree of excitement to something almost everyone has done at one point or another in their lives.

Once again I am forced to walk away from the warmth and comfort of my home.  I travel down the well-worn path with my large beast at my side.  A beast whose muscles were barely covered by a thick coat of fur.  A beast that could tear a throat out with his powerful jaws or slumber peacefully curled up next to his owner.  It all depended on his mood at the time.

Our travels at this time necessitated by the need to answer the primal Call Of Nature.  The instinct was too much for my simple abode to contain.  These periodic sojourns into the wilds were necessary and important for the both of us.

As we make our way past trees and small fields of grass and flowers, unseen eyes spot us passing by.  Peering out from the darkness, they watch us until we are no longer in their field of vision.  The beast at my side and I are both dismissed from their thoughts almost as quickly as we disappear from their sight.  The shadowed beings then return to their combat on war-torn battlefields, cutting and singeing of flesh for consumption, or whatever tasks they were undertaking before my passing.

The instincts of the beast have not reached a high enough point that he would strain against the narrow tether connecting us.  This allows me to control our direction as other paths and routes splinter off our desired path.  I maintain this control until we reach a field larger than the others we passed.  At one end of the field the yells and screams of children of various ages could be heard.  At the other end was our destination, a small cluster of trees where the beast could perform his naturally demanded activities in privacy.  As he did so I looked across to the children and smiled as some contorted themselves around large pieces of equipment while others squealed as they were chased from one discreet hiding place to another.  While all looked innocent at the moment, I knew many injuries had been suffered and much blood had been spilled at this place over the generations.

The beast unleashed a growling sound to inform me that he had finished what he came to do.  We carefully returned to the peace and safety of my home along the same path which took us away.  This time I nodded to acknowledge some of those hiding in the shadows that observed me.  Others I passed unaware of their presence.  Once we returned and safely entered my home, I began to perform a few tasks to satisfy my own instinctual needs.

Who knew walking the dog to the local park could sound so interesting?  Is there a chore or task you have ever thought of differently in order to make it less tedious?

The Tale of The Noah continues....

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get my story of the Noah completed in time to enter it in the science fiction contest I had planned on.  Real life reared its ugly head and interrupted my writing time too much.  The story itself also took on a life of its own that would not allow itself to be ended quickly.

I did go back and do a little editing to my previous entries in order to clarify a few things and correct a couple of mistakes.  I will update the previous posts with these edits by this time next week.  Word of these updates will be posted on my Facebook page.  In the meantime, here is a continuation of the story itself that I did manage to make despite interruptions, interferences, and power outages.

The majority of the crew of the Noah battleship waited patiently for a communication from Earth. Those that would be directly involved in the evacuation maintained their systems in a state of readiness. Others waited until their duties maintaining the environmental systems for the humans were required. While the environmental systems could be maintained automatically, the upkeep of a dry environment by a ship built for those that normally resided in oceans wasn't to be trusted to computers alone.

Darryl studied the interference patterns his cousin had emailed him. Without realizing how long he had been staring at the graphs and listening to the audio recordings, he finally got a grasp on what was before him. He rubbed his tired eyes, printed out a few key files and made a couple of notes, and carried everything to the dining hall. There he searched for one scientist in particular. This researcher had a hobby that involved numbers and multiple possible permutations and sequences. If anyone could figure out the details of what Darryl's cousin had sent him, it was a long-time D&D player and Game Master.

Darryl saw Alistair sitting alone eating with one hand and making notes on graph paper with the other. He approached the lone scientist with pages in hand. After a few minutes of discussion, Alistair looked away from his notes to the ones Darryl had presented. Looking over them briefly he stated, “It's simple. It's a base 12 encoding. Just different enough to our own base 10 to seem random unless someone is used to looking over numerical possibilities. I'm due to be back in the lab shortly. Once my shift is over, I will look over your notes and this signal and let you know if anything rises from the mists of confusion.”

Darryl thanked Alistair and grabbed a quick snack for himself from the buffet tables. He was due to start a work shift himself soon. As he was getting ready for the last few hours of his work shift, two pieces of news came to Darryl's attention almost simultaneously. Alistair had started to decode the information Darryl had given him earlier. While an exact translation was impossible, there were data components that could be easily interpreted. Alistair would meet with Darryl later with the information.

The second piece of news impacted the camp at large. The politicians had finally come up with a message to be broadcast to the Noah. The message accepted the help of the Noah in evacuating the planet, should they provide enough evidence that said evacuation was necessary. They also wanted to know the specifics of the plans for the evacuation so priorities could be made for getting more valued members of humanity safe first. There was no mention of how it would be determined which members of humanity were more valuable than others. The people that worked around the base were nearly unanimous in guessing that the politicians would form the head of the line. There was little to no mention of rescuing the non-human residents of the planet Earth. This came as no surprise to anyone that had worked with the politicians for more than five minutes.

The Noah received the message and excitement and activity both increased significantly as the crew prepared themselves for the evacuation plan. There was some confusion regarding the possibility of prioritizing the evacuation. The Noah felt that all life was equally important, regardless of how obvious or subtle their contribution to society may be. Because of this, their evacuation plan treated all the residents of Earth as equals and would evacuate them all at once. They were already scanning less intelligent lifeforms and comparing the results with their original scans when they originally transported everything to Earth. They looked for variations in DNA sequences that had crept in over numerous generations. This would allow them to simply update their files for reconstitution instead of collecting completely new DNA scans. There were a few new species that were descended closely enough to previously known species that an adjustment was all that would be required.

The Drag'kun battle fleet was primed for their attack. Designated crafts were starting to alter their course in order to intercept and attack the Noah battleship. The rest of the fleet would quickly enter Earth's atmosphere and begin razing major population centers. Panicking citizens would later be collected for enslavement. They would then be forced to extract usable materials from the wreckage of their own former homes and places of industry. Some would be given the ardous task of gathering raw minerals from the planet itself. There were no plans for stocking food or supplies for these slaves since they weren't expected to survive their duties.

Please leave a comment saying what you do or don't like about the story and where you think the story may go.

Where are "The Noah" Going?

I have decided to enter my tale of The Noah in a science fiction contest.  With the entry deadline, looming, most of my writing time has been dedicated to filling, editing, and completing the story.  I am hoping to have it finished and submitted in the next few days.  Once my submission has been accepted, I will post links to it here, on my Facebook page, and in my Twitter feed.

In the meantime, feel free to browse through any of the stories I've previously posted or check out some of the authors over at Amazing Things Press.  Go. Read. Enjoy.

Seeing The Whole World

Once before I posted about someone without the ability to see.  The idea of the exact opposite has been floating around in my head for many years.  What are some of the things someone would do if they found themselves with the ability to see anything, anywhere?  Viewing the past and future would still be impossible, but it would be easy to look at anything currently occurring on the planet.

I was finally coming to terms with my sight. It wasn't something that most people have to adjust to. My peripheral vision wasn't narrowing to a dark tunnel. It wasn't getting more difficult to read signs at a distance or books up close. I had to adjust to the fact that I could see everything.

When I say everything, it is much more than simply a matter of my vision being 20/20. At any given moment I could focus my view on a section of wall and see every nail pinning the drywall to the stud, how much the wood compressed and how much of it splintered when the nail was driven in, each stroke of the sander smoothing out the mud in the panel joints. I could easily see all of this regardless of whether the subsequent construction had been covered with paint, wallpaper, or both.

More than that, I could lay back and let my point of view roam anywhere in the world. I could see diplomats speaking to each other in a secured conference room on the other side of the planet. Since I couldn't hear them and never bothered to learn to read lips, all of the state secrets they may be passing to each other were still safe.

All of this started with an attack. I was working my usual evening shift at a corner convenience store. An armed thug rammed thug sauntered through the door, pulled a gun, and shot me in the head. As I lay on the ground bleeding, he rummaged through the cash drawers and helped himself. He walked away with just under $500. Not worth the life he just intended to take if you ask me. Even with the security cameras at the front door, behind the counter, and in the parking lot outside, the police were unable to identify the guy. Since I had seen his face very clearly, I told them I would gladly point him out in a lineup if they needed me to. They never called me in.

However, his shot wasn't lethally accurate. The bullet just grazed my skull. Somehow the pressure wave in the fluid inside my skull caused something to change in my brain itself. At least that's what the doctors keep telling me each time they call me in to take more pictures of my head. They don't know what kind of effects the difference in my brain chemistry may have, but that's only because I haven't told then about my new planet-wide visual acuity.

Doctor's orders kept me out of work the next couple of weeks. My boss said he would hold my position for me as long as I didn't sue the store. He smiled and sounded like he was joking, but I kind of doubt that. By the time I clocked back in for another evening shift, I was already aware I could see considerably more than I had before. With a little practice during slow parts of my shift, my vision was improving by leaps and bounds. After my first week I could count not only the cash in the drawer without opening it, but see exactly how much was in each shift's drop envelopes as they sat inside the safe in the boss's office.

The first time I noticed how much more I could see it was more out of boredom than anything else. I was sitting on my couch watching television. A movie was on that took place in the Sahara desert. Seeing all that sand blowing around and the shimmering heat was making me a little thirsty. I looked in the general direction of my kitchen and wondered if I had any beers in my fridge. Instantly I could see inside the refrigerator as though the door and wall between it and me were made of clear glass. All of the contents were clearly visible to me. It came as such a surprise that I blinked a couple times and the view disappeared. I sat and stared at the wall for a minute, thinking the whole thing must have been a hallucination caused by being shot.

I looked at the wall between me and my bedroom and again thought about the contents of my fridge. Nothing happened this time. Since I was looking at my bedroom wall my mind wandered to what clean clothes I might have to wear the next day. Suddenly I could see all of the folded shirts and pants in my dresser drawers. I noticed a couple of shirts I knew I had left in the hamper were sitting in my drawer. I realized this couldn't be a hallucination since I had no way of knowing my sister had washed my clothes and put them away while I was in the hospital. I'm not sure why I didn't start to panic. I began to look through other walls in my apartment. I could see how much soap was left in the bottle in my bathroom, this despite three walls and the plastic of the bottle itself potentially blocking my view.

I started to experiment with how far I could see. I peeked into other apartments on the same floor as mine. Then into rooms in apartments one and two floors beneath my feet. I kept extending my view further and further. Reading the expiration dates on the labels of food in the store on the corner. Counting the seeds in the vegetables on display at the farmer's market down the street. I will admit I spent too much time peering into the women's locker room at the gym a couple blocks down while sitting alone in the living room of my apartment. There seemed to be no limit to how far my vision could reach or how detailed a view I could get.

This new ability was a source of fun for the most part. I could watch any NFL game I wanted without my television being on or traveling to a stadium. I could watch a movie being made anywhere in the world. Women's locker rooms weren't the only places I looked at ladies in various states of undress. In general, whatever I wanted to see, I just looked at.

The fun stopped a few months after I got back to work. Once again, an armed thug entered the convenience store. This time he was wearing a ski mask despite the heat of the August evening. Without even thinking about it, I glanced at his waistband behind his back. There was a gun behind his back, loaded with the safety off and a round chambered. A quick look behind the ski mask told me how much danger I was truly in. The face hiding behind the cotton was the same one that belonged to the man that had shot me once before. There was no way I could give him the chance to kill me or hurt anyone else again.

What are some of the things you would look at if you could focus your sight on anything?  What would you look at first?

Population Control

Conspiracy theorists have been accusing various military and governmental entities of various programs to control their subjects.  Subliminal messaging, misinformation, and chemical mind control are just some of the methods suggested.

What if one such program was truly implemented?  A chemical compound that would make people suggestable without effecting their effectiveness.  The compound could be put in water supplies or foodstuffs.  People could then be lead to professions that would benefit the leadership without questioning why they were following such pursuits.  Civilians could be made to not question the actions of the military.

How would such a chemical be detected?  Would it be possible to stop such a program once it got started?  Is there any way of knowing it hasn't already begun?

The sergeant approached General Yatimo's office with a degree of apprehension. The folder in his hand contained information that nobody really wanted to see. It had the potential to shake up the entire Command Structure that had been in place for generations. One single fluctuation in a normally flat line of a graph could mean an end to everything their society had been developed to become. It wouldn't happen immediately, but the people that had detected the problem were more than happy to include projections for the end of all the peace they had enjoyed. While there wasn't anything General Yatimo could do, he and the other Leaders may be able to find some way to keep humanity from falling into the chaos that existed before The Program was instituted.

The sergeant nodded to the general's secretary. She had been calmly typing at her computer terminal when he entered the outer office. Because his duties included bringing regular reports to the general, she knew him well. However, today wasn't one of his regularly scheduled appearances. The information he carried couldn't wait the three days until he would normally deliver his reports.

The secretary gestured for the sergeant to have a seat. The sergeant ignores her suggestion and waits for her to make General Yatimo aware of his presence. She already knew the answer to the question but asked it anyway, “Do you have an appointment Jefferson?”

The sergeant's reply was completely flat. It carried none of the fear and apprehension he felt. There was also no sign of the joy he usually expressed at the few moments spent in the presence of the lovely woman. “No appointment this time. However, I have a report that has been flagged as Priority 1 Alpha. The general must see it immediately. The Leaders will be calling an emergency session this evening and he has to be prepared.”

No emotions altered or changed her face as she processed the meaning of what he had just said. “He is currently meeting with a civilian. They should be done in just a few minutes.” With that her attention returns to her computer terminal. She activates her headset and begins making calls. From what he can hear of her side of the conversation, she is canceling and rescheduling the general's appointments for the rest of the day. After the sergeant's meeting is complete, the general will probably have her clear his calendar for a much longer period of time.

The sergeant continues to stand and wait patiently for General Yatimo's earlier visitor to finish. The import of what he has to say make the few minutes seem to drag on for much longer. The general's office door finally opens and a diminutive older gentleman in common clothes emerges. The sergeant pays him no attention as he enters the office before the door closes behind the previous guest. The general is involved in something on his terminal, much like his secretary had been when the sergeant first arrived. The general becomes aware of the sergeant's presence when a folder is slapped down on his desk.

Without preamble the sergeant gives the general a headline that summarized the data in the report and its implications. “The Program is in trouble. An individual is developing a resistance. It is only a matter of time before all the peace we have enjoyed for so long comes to an end.”

General Yatimo sits stunned for a minute. He opens the folder and looks over the reports. He doesn't understand all of the technical language, but the summaries are enough for him to get the idea of what the scientists had to say. The sergeant explains as the general forms his own understandings of the situation.

“Testing of blood samples 'donated' last month show a decrease in the variable proteins associated with standard Program implementation. Similar levels were detected in a single sample last month, but it was deemed an error in testing. The increase in these variations since seem to indicate an expansion in resistance. This despite all the assurances there would be no resistance when The Program was first developed.”

Still getting over his initial shock and absorbing the data before him, General Yatimo asks the sergeant, “How widespread an area are we looking at?”

“Right now all of the people showing decreased protein levels are residents of a single small town Southern Nevada. No direct family connection has been found. They all work in different professions and eat and shop at different businesses. The only commonality between them all is the neighborhood in which they reside. More residents of the area are being 'encouraged' to visit their local blood donation centers so further samples can be collected. A similar program is being instituted in nearby towns and communities.”

The full meaning of the reports hits General Yatimo. He states a few facts the sergeant had realized and come to grips with on his way to deliver the information. “The decrease in the variable proteins means that people are building up a resistance to the control chemicals we've been feeding them for generations. An occurrence that shouldn't be possible. Civilian's minds will begin to think outside the parameters we set for them. They will behave as they did before The Program was initiated. The authority of The Leaders will erode as conspiracy theories grow and people question government and military policies.

“The source of this resistance must be found. Once we know how it is spread, we can stop it and eliminate anyone whose blood shows the decrease in protein levels. That should be sufficient to maintain our control over the population for centuries to come.”

The sergeant was reluctant to point out to General Yatimo the conclusions on the final page of the reports. There it was indicated the current resistance developing in the civilian population was due to the effects of nuclear tests decades ago in the desert near the small Nevada town. The effects of past military actions were hampering the future of that same military entity.

If you wanted to control the world, what method would you use?

Fourth Degree

This is another story idea that isn't from my brain, yet one I had quite a bit of influence on.  It is a tale from my son's notebook of stories.  At this point, I can easily see his creative and artistic talents leading him many places in the future.  If only he would stop growing up so fast.

My name is Jackson S. Master.  At the age of five I started to practice swordplay.  It took me thirteen years to master a technique called "the four angles of death."  After high school it became more difficult to keep training.

One day I found a rare metal called morphanite.  I decided to create four swords out of it.  When I tried to practice with them, I started to change.  At first my body turned all black, then stripes of red formed around my waist and chest.  After a few seconds I noticed that I had become faster, stronger, and more agile.

It seemed to me the only thing for me to do was protect the weak and innocent.  They call me Fourth Degree due my use of four swords at the same time.  Evil better beware the blade of the hero.

With summer vacation in full swing, I think the two of us will sit down and develop some of the ideas from his notebook into a few full fledged stories.  Before long we may even have two published authors in the house.

Taking The Next Step

My first book, Dangerous Stars, was written, edited, and published by me.  Some friends and family members helped with reviews and suggestions, but there was no editing staff, interns, or executive assistants to do all of the menial work that comes after the creative process is finished.

Contracts have been signed and files transferred.  The wonderful folks at Amazing Things Press have agreed to the next steps for my new title, Post Exodus.  This means less physical work required of me to get the book released, but more effort once all of that is done.  Release parties, book signings, authors' gatherings, and other events will soon be filling my schedule.  I consider that a fair exchange.

The new book came from a simple question.  What if an apocolyptic event was predicted but never happened?  The majority of humanity was able to leave the Earth, but a few remained behind by choice.  Technology and major infrastructures were still intact, there just wasn't anyone to fill the space.

This is just a snapshot of how I think one small segment of civilization would change after the ultimate nothing happened.

 The door to the bedroom opened and a young woman entered just as I was feeling myself again. She had long hair of a light golden color. Her face was circular in shape without appearing puffy or pudgy. She had a classic beauty that was accentuated by a faint tan from working many hours in the sun.

She had on a simple dress with a white apron on over it. The apron had some small stains on it that appeared to be from being worn while cooking many meals between washings. In one hand she carried a bowl full of something steaming and a pitcher of water was in the other. Her voice was gentle and smooth. “I see you are awake. It probably isn't a good idea to try and get up too fast. It looked like you had a rather hard knock on your head when my brother found you coming back from collecting firewood. We tended to your wounds and kept you warm in the hopes you would heal.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Not very long. My aunt found you early in the afternoon the day before yesterday. My sisters and I brought you here that evening and started bandaging your cuts and scrapes. This is the most awake and talkative you've been since then.”

“What about my bike? Did you leave it by the log I hit?”

“No. We figured you were doing something important by the way you were traveling. My sister brought your bike back while the rest of us carried you. It will need some repairs before you can travel any further though.”

“How bad is the damage?”

“Some cosmetic scrapes, about like you really. However, the front tire is severely dented and the handlebars are bent. Any other alignment damage would be up to you to find. You probably won't be able to find any replacement parts here, but there is a small town about a day's walk north that should have anything you need.”

“Thank you for all that you and your family have done.”

“You are most certainly welcome. Now, it's time for you to have something to eat. This is a thick broth that we've been carefully spooning you since you got here. Would you like me to feed you again, or do you think you are up for doing it yourself?”

I'm not sure, but her tone of voice when offering to feed me seemed to hint that there was more than food being offered. “Thank you, but I think I would like to try to feed myself. See how much of my strength I have back.”

“Okay. It shouldn't be too hot to eat right away. I didn't realize you would be awake so I let it cool before bringing it up.

She set the bowl down on the nightstand next to the bed. Reaching underneath the bed itself, she pulled out a tray and set it on my lap as I positioned myself more completely on the bed. Once I was settled, she placed the bowl on the tray and pulled a spoon from a pocket of her apron. The soup was rather thick and creamy. It had a cheesy flavor with a hint of garlic. There was also a mixture of other flavors I couldn't quite name. There didn't seem to be any chunks of meat or pieces of vegetable in the soup. The soup's thickness and lack of other ingredients explained how it could be safely fed to someone unconscious without running the risk of the patient choking. The texture reminded me of a potato chowder my mother was fond of making.

The young woman pulled a glass from the drawer in the nightstand. She filled it with water in the pitcher she had brought in with her. “It is a blend of helpful herbs in a cheese soup that comes from an old family recipe. We make it thick enough to fill the stomach during a long convalescence. It's good enough we eat it as part of our regular meals now and then. Goes well with a bread we make ourselves and some of the pork we trade with nearby farms for.”

“It is quite good. I thank you for taking care of me and providing me with this fine meal. Once I am up and around again, is there anything I can do for you?”

“From all the letters in your vest, I guessed you are a messenger. We really don't have much need for you since our family is all on nearby farms. Since you will still be healing for another day or so, I will talk to the others and see if they can think of some way for you to repay us. Is there anything else you would like me to do for you?”

Between spoonfuls of the wonderful soup, I thought about her offer. Once again her tone suggested an invitation for something more than simple assistance. “The only other thing I would like while I'm here is the saddlebags that were on the back of my bike. Would it be possible for you to ….”

I suddenly felt extremely exhausted. I was way too weary for the amount of energy expended since I woke up, even taking into account my injuries. I barely heard the spoon clatter into the empty bowl as I fell back against the pillow and fell hard asleep. I will never be sure if what I heard as I passed out was her actually speaking or just my imagination. “You sleep now, we will see if you can give us what we want.”

When a release date is set, I will post it here and on my Twitter feed.  Until then, there is more work to be done.

The Noah Push On

Despite my best efforts, the story of the Noah inspired by a tweet from Lar DaSouza won't leave me alone.  Similarities between certain aspects of humanity in reality and those in fiction are being drawn.  The individual human characters are beginning to become fleshed out.  While not featured here, the cruelties the Drag'kon are capable of is starting to become more severe in my mind.  

This entire tale is taking on more of a life than I thought it ever would.  Maybe I should get it a birth certificate and start claiming it as a dependent.

The Noah ship was picking up faint signals from the assembled device they had left behind on Earth so many centuries ago. There was no coherent message, but the fact a signal was being broadcast was encouraging. The communications panels were double staffed on all shifts in anticipation of the need to send messages back and forth between the ship and the planet. This meant personnel had to be diverted from other duties. The captain and other officers all agreed that, given their location and situation, it was deemed sufficient to have one individual cover both sensor scan reports and engineering monitors. Both systems were expected to be a low priority for some time. The engines were in a low power cruise mode until a response from Earth prompted acceleration to a higher speed for the rescue effort. Since the Drag'kon weren't expected to arrive for some time, there shouldn't be any changes in the reports from standard system scans. Unfortunately this meant a series of ionic fluctuations passing near Saturn were missed by someone who was looking at engine temperatures at that moment.

The politicians were doing what they seemed to be experts at, arguing. Their entire responsibility was to compose a message from all the peoples of Earth. In quick order, they had agreed to accept whatever help the Noah had to offer. However, the issue of a planetary evacuation would be tabled until such a time as the presence, or even the existence, of the Drag'kon could be proven. It was the composition and content of the message that was being thoroughly discussed. Each figure felt writers from their homeland should be featured in the message. Initial sections and passages were developed and compromises made. Later segments would be introduced, and accepted only if words that had been agreed upon earlier were changed. This entire process was repeated and repeated until it was the subject of numerous comedian monologues and bets were being placed with Las Vegas odds-makers. If any of them knew the importance of information that was only now coming to light, they would put their differences aside and urge the Noah to hurry and save all of humanity.

Darryl had finally sorted through most of his personal emails despite numerous interruptions from scientific inquiries regarding his discovery of the alien device's nature. While he couldn't offer any additional technical insights, it was his ability to recognize patterns and familiarity with the Noah's broadcast that made him a celebrity around the frozen base. Now that he finally had a few minutes to himself, he could see what his cousin was so interested in that she felt he should know about it and not her superiors at NASA. The message was rather brief. She had picked up something strange in the data relays from robotic probes on Mars. The bulk of the email was attachments of data files and transcripts of the data streams with the strange interruptions. Darryl's cousin just asked if it was possible he could share the information with one of the scientists on the base. She had no idea how many of them would be willing to look at pretty much anything he put before them.

Behind their stealth tech and maneuvers, the Drag'kon were monitoring the Noah closely and positioning themselves for battle. Shield generators were charged and ready to be activated. Photonic energy weapons were primed. Electromagnetic pulse devices were loaded into their tubes for launching into the Earth's atmosphere. Attack patterns and contingency plans were formed and entered into the combat computers. All of this was accomplished as Saturn's rings shrank in the view from behind the fleet and Jupiter grew before them. The level of excitement from the pending battle, regardless of how one-sided it seemed, was on a constant rise.

Leave a comment and let me know if you think, once the story is done, it should be developed and edited into its own book for publication.

Senses of Time and Place

Sight is one of the most heavily used senses today.  Travel is accomplished with the help of traffic signs of different colors or displays of flights and their pending arrival or departure.  Even pedestrians utilize street signs for their location and required directions.  Cell phones and tablets require custom settings to be activated and the occasional additional app to be installed so owners unable to see the touchscreen can still enjoy their devices.  While many art museums feature audio tours, they tend to describe the life of the artist or history of the painting and not the beauty of the piece itself.  Magazines and other publications try to boost their sales by featuring covers that are pleasing to the eye or broadcasting controversial headlines.  A difference between the amount of movement detected by the eyes and the motion sensitive inner ear is what causes motion sickness.  These are just some examples of the importance of the information our brains receive from our eyes.

The recent release of Daredevil on Netflix got me thinking about how much can be learned about the surrounding world without being able to see.  Even without enhanced senses, much can be gleaned about obstacles ahead by listening to the effects solid objects have on sounds in the area.  A number of blind folks have developed a navigation technique that takes advantage of echolocation.

The post today attempts to describe a normal daily activity while using only the senses of hearing, smell, touch, and taste.

It was a wonderful spring morning.  The warmth of the sun emerged through the windows as I walked across the smooth tile floor of the kitchen.  My bare feet had received a slight shock when I stepped from the carpet of my bedroom hall onto the chill of the ceramic tiles of the kitchen.  The difference was noticeable, but not as drastic as an early winter morning would provide.

My toes rested familiarly in the gentle roughness of the grouted groove between the tiles that were lined up in front of my refrigerator.  Opening it up, I heard the gentle clatter of glass on glass from the shifting bottles on the shelves of the door.  A cool draft filled with the smells of box of oranges placed on the bottom shelf blew across my face.  Reaching in, I felt for the round tub of butter where I usually left it.  Finding the smooth plastic, I reached around it to make sure its size and shape were what I expected.  I set the butter on the shelf next to the fridge and grabbed the second jar on the right from the top shelf of the door.  Removing the lid, I gave the contents a sniff to make sure it was the orange marmalade that I was in the mood for.  It took spooning grape jelly instead of pickle relish on a hot dog for me to learn that a jar sitting where I expected it doesn't mean the jar would necessarily contain what I was looking for.  That was certainly one of the more interesting hot dogs I've ever eaten.

Stepping through the warm spot formed by the sun again, I stopped for a second to warm my feet up and savor the start of a potentially nice day.  Finally, I arrived at the larger counter I used for preparing my meals.  Reaching forward with a well practiced motion, I grabbed the smooth glass knob of my breadbox.  My fingers traced along the first plastic bag of bread they found.  Finding the front of the bag, I felt the plastic clip holding it closed.  That clip told me the bread was white bread, not the wheat I wanted to toast.  Finding another bag, I felt the twist tie that meant this bag contained the type of bread I desired.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of warm wheat as I pulled a knife from a nearby drawer and opened the butter and marmalade.  The satisfying "tunk" of the toaster told me my breakfast was perfectly warmed just as a light rumble from my stomach informed me it was time to eat.  The hard wooden handle of the butter knife hardly moved in my hand as I drew it across the soft butter.  A long, light crunching sound reached my ears as I moved the butter-coated knife along the stiff bread.  Another soft rumble emerged from my stomach as I buttered the second slice.  The scent of sweetness and oranges reached my nose as a layer of marmalade followed the butter.  With one hand, I reached out and dropped the knife in the area I knew the sink to be.  The clatter of metal blade on metal basin told me I was right on target, once again.  My other hand brought one of the coated slices of toast unerringly towards my mouth.  I took a big bite of the crispy bread.  My mouth was filled with the creamy texture and sweet citrus flavor of my chosen toppings.

Now that my empty stomach had been filled, it was time to get the day started.  The sounds of beeping alarms and shifting bed springs indicated that my roommates would be up soon.  I left the butter and marmalade on the counter where the others could see them.  I returned to my room and prepared myself for whatever the world had in store.  It did seem odd to me that the only one in the house up early enough to enjoy a sunrise was the only one that couldn't see it's colors.

If you were to go blind, what is the one sight you think you would truly miss?  With descriptive audio tracks on movies and television shows, books in braille, crosswalk signals with audio cues, and text-to-speech apps, do you think there is more that could be done for the sightless to help them enjoy the modern world?