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?