January 28, 2015



Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

SF Trope: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AceCustom (An ace custom is a piece of technology that differs from the normal model due to being tweaked in order to better fit its user...typically Ace Pilots...)
Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Hahn, http://usvsth3m.com/post/78650868521/a-13-year-old-boy-in-preston-just-successfully-built-a

Zsigmond Alajos Becskei pursed his lips to stare at the old man in the wheelchair in the distance and said, “How old did you say he was?”

Sissinnguaq Âviâja, standing beside him, tapped her tablet computer. The answer popped up in front of them and she said, “Sixty-one.”

Zsigmond shook his head, “Looks like he’s a hundred.”

“Radiation exposure can do that to a person,” she paused, “I think he looks sad.”

Zsigmond snorted, “You’d look old, too if you were playing with radioactive materials in your backyard when you were sixteen, too.”

Sissinnguaq shook her head, “We didn’t have back yards in Iceland. They kept getting covered in volcanic ash.”

“At least you had something interesting going on in your country. My parents moved here because they were bored.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Right,” said Sissinnguaq, “Maybe we should talk to him before he dies. Like in a couple of minutes.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Zsigmond swallowed nervously even though he walked along the sidewalk and up to the nursing home’s security station.

The guard behind the window looked up and slid the palm scanned under the slot and said, “Name and purpose.”

Zsigmond hesitated – this would be the true test of his forgery – and covered it by saying, “I’ve never seen my grandfather before. What if I want to leave before I have to talk to him.”

The guard, who’d been looking bored up to now, shook his head. “Old age ain’t a disease kid. He’s not contagious. He’s your ma or your pa’s dad. You ain’t gonna catch nothing.”

Sissinnguaq leaned and said, “My boyfriend’s not afraid of his grandfather in that way. He’s just never seen anyone…”

“Save it, girl. Are you guys going in or are you gonna run away scared like most of the other snot-noses?”

“You are an incredibly rude man,” she said, slapping her hand down on the scanner.

“I didn’t get to be eighty-three by being a sweetheart.” He looked at Zsigmond, “Either slap the ID pad or get out of here, kid. I ain’t gettin’ younger.”
Zsigmond sighed and laid his hand on the scanner. A moment later the guard pulled it back under, looked at the ID and raised his eyebrows, saying, “Good thing you’re here. I don’t think Dave has many more days left in him.” He typed at his solid keyboard and the first entry door swung open. Zsigmond and Sissinnguaq waited for the second door while the entryway disinfected them. A moment later, the guard said, “Computer says he’s out in the courtyard.”

“Thanks,” said Zsigmond. The headed into the nursing home as the door swung slowly inward. He whispered, “Now if he’ll only be able to remember the last step he screwed up, we can get the reactor started tonight and blow up the city in the morning...”

Names: ♀ Native, Iceland ; Hungary    

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