MARTIAN HOLIDAY 30: DaneelAH To Outpost Vogel

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official United Faith in Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story.

The marsbug stopped after pulling behind a massive boulder. Idling and screened from the highway, it waited.

DaneelAH played the message again then said, “I think our first decision needs to be whether we use the code and go home or follow this Human’s lead.” He turned to HanAH, expecting immediate rejection.

Their vat mate swallowed hard and said in a meek voice, “Sorry about the outburst. It’s what I do when I’m frustrated.”

“That’s for sure,” said AzAH. If any one of the others had commented, HanAH would have exploded in anger. But he and his vat sister had a unique relationship – she was the only one on Mars who could rebuke him with impunity. He’d once said she was his external conscience. She reached out and patted his knee. “But we love you anyway.”

MishAH said, “Speak for yourself!”

DaneelAH remained silent. They had to decide to go forward together or not at all. He also knew that if he tried to push HanAH, his vat brother would do the opposite of he SHOULD do just to spite DaneelAH. Finally HanAH said, “Fine then. This  Conciliação character seems to have a relatively coherent plan –and I’ve always loathed Torgerson. It’ll be a pleasure bringing him down.”

DaneelAH turned to AzAH who nodded immediately. MishAH paused and said, “It sounds like I’ve got the most lines in this Human’s script.” She paused, grinned then said, “I love it!”

DaneelAH nodded and said to the computer screen, “We’ll work with you Mr. Conciliação.”

The image flickered and smiled, “Actually, it’s Citizen Conciliação. Both of my parents came to Mars as free employees and were awarded a large piece of land outside of Bradbury as well as voting rights and a retirement apartment in the main dome. I think you’re familiar with my mother.” He paused, smiling faintly. “Thank you all. I will see you eventually, but I have no idea when. The whole political system is agitated right now. Something’s going on in Opportunity as well as in your own Malacandra. We don’t know what it is yet, but I might add that there’s something of an entirely different nature happening up on the Cydonia plateau.”

MishAH said, “At the Face On Mars?”

The image froze for a moment then continued talking, “Finally, there’s word from Earth that the bid for Martian Independence has been suspended in the Earth Government Rules Committee.”

“What?” HanAH exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous! Earth granted the Moon’s independence after only thirty years of occupation! We’ve had colonies for twice that!”

“True, but the Moon had an array of mass drivers that that would have required very little retooling to be made into weapons of mass destruction instead of workshops of mass profit.”

MishAH shook her head, “And we don’t have a D19-C to give its life up to make the transition to independence bloodless.”

Paolo hummed. “My points exactly.” His image vanished.

DaneelAH said, “Nice of him to make an interactive recording.”

HanAH shook his head. “The end of the transmission wasn’t recorded. We were talking to the Human.” The other three exclaimed, but HanAH cut them off, “If we’d made the wrong decision, he could have blown this ‘bug to kingdom come.”

“Isn’t that a colony in the Kuiper Belt?” MishAH said.

“That’s what I mean!”

DaneelAH said, “I don’t think he’d have brought us this far just to blow us up.”

“Oh, so you’re a security expert now?”

DaneelAH grunted then said, “Decision?” He glanced to each of his vat mates. Each one nodded. He said out loud, “We’ll go.”

The marsbug started to move again into the wild, off-road world the original settlers knew. The ‘bug bounced and juttered for hours until it began to slow down.

“Where are we?”

“Vogel Station?”

“I never heard of it,” said HanAH.

“You don’t know everything,” AzAH said.

He paused then said, “I can find out…”

“That’s not the point! The marsbug is slowing down and we’re in the middle of nowhere!”

DaneelAH leaned forward, looking at the digital view screen. He switched it off so that he could see a real-time image, through an aluminum oxynitride window of what they were coming up on. He stood up and pointed out the window, saying, “You’re not going to believe this, but there’s an outpost there that didn’t appear on the view screen…”

Image: http://rlv.zcache.com/dusty_landing_on_mars_colonial_outpost_sticker-p217574995460811018qjcl_400.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 65

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.

F Trope: reanimating the dead

Current Event: http://www.livescience.com/18379-reanimate-dead-frankentstein.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+Livesciencecom+%28LiveScience.com+Science+Headline+Feed%29

 Leona Sheutiapik is the daughter of several Canadian legislators but in order to celebrate her ancestry, she is camping along Hudson bay. She’s also celebrating her 18^th birthday – and successfully dodging a marriage her parents tried to arrange for her – to a FISHERMAN of all things! Enraged, she’s taken a sabbatical before she heads to college in Toronto in the fall…

Solveig Jones is a biracial high school senior – mom and dad divorced when he was twelve and he’s been living with Dad in the first ring suburb his dad grew up in. Solveig – everyone one at his school calls him Soul (and that’s what’s on his basketball jersey) – isn’t doing so well, though. Lots of cop trouble and lots and lots of grade trouble. Dad’s got a new wife and a baby girl to look after and following an arrest for marijuana possession, Dad ships Soul off to Canada where his mom is working on her PhD in Women’s Studies, interviewing and working among the newly active political force of women in Canada’s largest and newest federal territory. Soul is mad and he’s hurt and he’s going to go back to Minnesota and do his own thing without Mom or Dad…

Leona and Solveig meet while flying to a National Park on the Hudson Bay. Their plane lands fine, but another one crashes into the frigid water and all four passengers appear to have died. One of them is a legislator, another is the older brother of the Canadian Prime Minister. The pilot and his wife are also pronounced dead.

Everything in the tiny town of Rankin Inlet shuts down for a period of mourning – and while the RCMP investigate, because it appears that there may have been foul play.

The two wandering young adults hit it off, share their woes and after walking the night away, they are passing the police station in the middle of the night and witness the four dead people…standing in front of the police station, which has shattered windows and a couple of apparently dead police officers laying on the ground…

Image: http://lilyincanada.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/rcmp_dedicationlr1.jpg

WRITING ADVICE – SL Viehl #4: After You’ve Written The First Third, END The Story...

I stumbled across the writing of Sheila Kelly (aka SL Viehl, Gena Gale, Jessica Hall, Rebecca Kelly and Lynn Viehl) about eleven years ago with the publication of her first novel, STARDOC. I was looking for a the work of a current writer to replace one of my favorite kind of science fiction – human doctors in a space hospital working on aliens. I discovered this genre as an adolescent in Alan E. Nourse’s STAR SURGEON, followed it into James White’s SECTOR GENERAL books and A.M. Lightner’s DOCTOR TO THE GALAXY. S.L. Viehl’s books satisfied that itch – but I learned about a year ago that she is so much more than just a “space hospital” writer! The bits of writing advice in this new ten part series are used with her permission. This one is from:

http://pbackwriter.blogspot.com/2011/06/seeing-light.html

Interesting idea.

I’ve currently reached this point in the book I’m working on, OMNIVORE’S DEBT.

It’s been several weeks since I worked on it, but that was because of something an online writers group (which I belonged to until it ended a few days ago...) dubbed The Call Of OTOGU, or The Call Of Other Things Of Greater Urgency. I had a request for a story rewrite from an anthology editor and I needed to polish a few stories for submission.

At any rate, I think I may experiment with this. In fact, I’m GOING to try it.

I don’t have the trouble SL Viehl has with endings. They’ve always seemed to work themselves out. Though I have always worked from an outline and knew where I was going to end, that outline was NEVER set in stone. It was an organic thing that could change with a twist in the plot. Nevertheless, there came a point at which “what has gone on before” caused the initially fluid ending to freeze into a solid sculpture. I suppose that’s what SL Viehl means when she talks about organic writers.

In a completely different vein, I sent in an application to be a volunteer on the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America’s Andre Norton Award Committee. Whether you knew who Andre Norton was or whether you’ve ever read any of her work, know that she was with Robert A. Heinlein, John Christopher, Alan E. Nourse, Lester del Rey, Poul Anderson, Ben Bova, Donald A. Wollheim and others.

What I didn’t know until I was an adult, is that Andre Norton was a GIRL! Mary Alice Norton loved writing science fiction, but the market in those days was to boys. Her editor felt that he name needed to be more ambiguous, so she legally changed her name to Andre Alice Norton.

Why the history? I’m thinking of changing my nom de plume as well, though in the early years of the 21^st Century, I’m thinking of changing it to something more feminine, like Bret James or Bret Stewart (one of my best friends in adolescence was Brett Sorensen); or possibly Greer Stewart; Kieran James; Taylor Stewart or Taylor James; Devon James or Devon Stewart – all in order to court the more lucrative market for young women.

Last of all, I’d like to offer this last bit of advice from SL Viehl: “The theory I've heard that makes the most sense to me about how we acquire these story instincts is saturation via constant exposure. Writers read and write so much that we could be imprinting ourselves with innumerable bits of data that go on to form and guide our choices.”

Choices – in writing as in life – is what it is ALL about. Making the wrong choice in a story can slam you up against a dead end wall or allow yourself to paint yourself into a corner.

So, with that bizarre mix of writing advice…good day.

Image: http://www.jcpaintingandconstruction.com/images/home_image.jpg?nxg_versionuid=published

SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH #38: July 19, 1946

This series is a little bit biographical and a little bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and fascinated by the tale. So, I added some speculation about things I've always wondered about and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH, click on the label to the right. The FIRST entry is on the bottom.

Freddie Merrill leaned against the door, leaning back as far as he could, his eyes widening as big as was possible.

Tommy Hastings said, “A body?”

‘Edwina Olds, lieutenant, Women’s Army Corps, retired’ said, “ I don’t stutter, do I?” She turned from her driving and leaned toward the boys. “You don’t think I st…st…st…utter, do I?”

Even Tommy’s eyes grew large and Freddie started sliding up the door. But the window was up, keeping out the cool wind blowing off Lake Superior. Tommy said, “What…what kind of a body?”

Edwina laughed. It wasn’t the nice laugh she’d done before. She said, “What kind of bodies do you think there are that I would hide on a logging truck?”

Freddie exclaimed, “‘Bodies?’”

“Did I say plural?” She laughed again, shifting the truck into a higher gear as they started rolling down a hill toward Two Harbors, their next port of call. “Slip of the tongue, I’d say then. I only have one body back there.” They drove on in silence until they reached the outskirts of Two Harbors. From the top of the hill leading into town, they’d seen the massive, steel Dock Number Six – as they pulled into town, it was invisible to them until they crossed over Poplar Street. Then suddenly they could see the Docks; massive and like bridges that led to nowhere, these led to the giant ore boats that waited, sucking up the iron pellets poured into them from the railcars coming from the mines.

“Yup. Got a problem with that?”

Neither boy could speak. Edwina turned her attention to the road as they lumbered into town. Just past Poplar, she turned away from the lake. The truck came to a halt and three or four cars laid on their horns. By now the sun had been up for hours and the city was alive with a few cars, but mostly people walking, a few biking and plenty of others swaggering around – lots of young men dressed in casual clothes but sporting navy hats or army hats, boots sticking out from under simple men’s pants.

She bullied the truck uphill and then headed out of town a bit. In Tommy’s ear, Freddie whispered, “Think she knows the witches and Commies and mobsters from before?”

“I hope not,” Tommy breathed out of the corner of his mouth, hoping Edwina didn’t hear him over the grinding, groaning shriek of the truck’s gear box.

Edwina cast him a look, and Tommy thought it looked downright evil. Like the one the Witch of Anoka had cast on them to think she was playing fine music in the amphitheater. That seemed like a thousand years ago!

The truck reached the top of a long hill, then turned again, rode three blocks then squealed to a halt. They stopped in front of a church. She turned off the truck and looked at the boys, saying, “Time to work for your ride or stay here in Two Harbors until you can get a ride home.”

Tommy could feel Freddie shaking against his back where he’d pushed himself to get away from Edwina. His friend blurted, “We ain’t gonna help you bury somebody a mobster killed or a…a…Communist killed…”

Tommy added – he couldn’t let Freddie look like an idiot even though Edwina was probably going to get mad at the very least. As she slid out of the truck, she said, “Suit yourselves, boys, but my uncle weren’t no Commie. I’d’a knowed it.” She slammed the door behind her and called, “But I can’t take you to Canada. That was the deal.”

Freddie whispered, “Did she say her uncle?”

“I’m pretty sure so.”

Freddie reached up and pulled the handle. They were leaning so hard against the door that Freddie yelped and would have fallen all the way down if Tommy hadn’t caught him. As it was, they tumbled out of the truck in time to see a preacher man come out of the church, walk up to Edwina and give her a big hug. They heard her say, “I brought a couple of hitchhikers with me to help unload the coffin, but it appears that they’re going to bail out on me.”

Tommy felt his face blaze red in embarrassment. He was pretty sure Freddie’s freckles were bright as chicken pox as he and his friend scrambled to the back of the lumber truck to help unload the coffin.

Edwina beamed at them as the four of them lowered the box carefully to the ground, then situated themselves to carry it, under the preacher man’s direction, into the church.

The boys took the lighter feet; Edwina and the preacher man at the front. Edwina turned, smiled at them and said to the preacher man, “I have a confession to make.”

“I’m a Lutheran pastor, not a priest.”

“Nevertheless,” said Edwina, “I confess that I intentionally misled the boys into thinking there was a body in the back of the truck.”

“There was,” said the preacher man, tossing a look over her shoulder at Freddie and Tommy. “But if you’re feeling like your old self, I can only imagine that you’ve made the boys imagine that you’re some sort of murderess.”

They laughed as Tommy and Freddie blushed furiously behind them. “That was mean…” Tommy muttered. Just as he did, Edwina turned back and winked at Tommy. The preacher man turned back and winked at Freddie as they carried the coffin into the church.

Image: http://blogs.reuters.com/russell-boyce/files/2011/03/RTR2KBDM.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 64

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: sanitation in the future is non-existent in cities…

Current Events: http://www.smh.com.au/world/mexico-city-fails-to-solve-its-garbage-crisis-20120127-1qlr2.html, http://fryingpannews.org/2012/02/09/big-step-taken-to-resolve-las-trash-crisis/

Trey Jackson and his family live in rural Nebraska – but the city of Omaha is a big part of their lives.

Especially the smell.

The city has been nearly buried under its own waste since, in 2029, the state legislature banned Omaha from dumping outside of a 20 mile radius. While few people in the CITY agreed to the law, legislators from outside the urban areas voted them down.

In 2041, Omaha has been walled in and in order to deal with the trash situation, they have moved their garbage to the edge of the city and hire companies to come in and search through the trash to find reusable, recyclable and useful things. Because the US economy slid into The Really Great Depression after an unprecedented eight Democratic Party dominated legislatures from 2008 through 2040, few people work – but everyone continues to produce garbage.

Trey and his family are part of a garbage caravan heading into Omaha to collect and distribute the trash West. When they arrive, they make camp in their covered wagons in Collector’s City and file for a permit to dig through the trash of a particular dump Trey’s dad and mom have researched. His twelve little brothers and sisters wait for their permit to clear.

In the meantime, Trey’s parents allow him to take the older of the siblings to the Collector’s Carnival. There he meets the amazing Francine La Flesche, descendant of the Indigenous people for who the city is named. She’s not supposed to be there, though.

In fact, she’s missing from her parent’s home – and they are powerful lawyers deep in the center of Omaha, living among the city’s wealthy elite. On the Ferris wheel ride, as it stops so that they are at the top and can see the Core City, she tells him she’s run away to see the world and was wondering if she can go with his family…

Images: http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMjAwNDY1OTQ1MF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNDI0NTEwNw@@._V1._SX640_SY429_.jpg, http://cache.gawker.com/assets/images/io9/2009/09/futuremetrowalle.jpg

Christianity – Anthropocentric or Universal IV: If God Made Everything, Does That Include Life Off of Earth? (Slice of PIE)

Short answer: yes.

This is where I will get in trouble with Christians and materialists. The vast majority of Christians believe that Humans are it. This is the definition of “anthropocentric: regarding humans as the final aim of the universe” that a reader five years ago suggested I take in order to narrow down my argument to a practical, useable tenet. Most Christians, at least in the published Christian world (I don’t know what all Christians think, but in my experience, the majority when asked will state the Humans are all the intelligent life there is in the Universe.

A materialist most likely will agree with the Carl Sagan character who says in CONTACT (movie), “[the child ‘Dr. Eleanor Arroway’ (played by Jodie Foster), ‘…asks her father if life exists out in the Universe, to which he responds: “Well, if there wasn’t, it’d be an awful waste of space.”’ (Hollywood released a movie (on July 11, 1997) based on Sagan’s novel, Contact (1985). The film’s central character, is surely the embodiment of the formative experiences, philosophical perspectives, and spiritual beliefs of Sagan himself.” While the exact wording isn’t in Sagan’s book, CONTACT, I have never seen anyone deny that this phrase didn’t embody his intent.

However, there’s no evidence that there is life off of Earth at this point. That fact strengthens the Christian stance and weakens the materialists stance.

Recently, I have seen more Christians willing to accept the possibility of non-intelligent life in the Universe and the Vatican has granted that it is possible and that it does not contradict the doctrine of the Catholic Church, it’s still a minority point of view.

Also, materialists are generally of the opinion that the discovery of intelligent life in the Universe will cause the collapse of Christianity, and while some have a more charitable opinion (http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/06/will-aliens-des/), it seems that many do not (http://www.space.com/13152-aliens-religion-impacts-extraterrestrial-christianity.html).

So in general, God made the Universe and created other life as well. A quote from the Bible supports this: “And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.’ And it was so.” (Genesis 1:14-15).

“And God said, ‘Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.’  So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living and moving thing with which the water teems, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.  God blessed them and said, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth.’ And there was evening, and there was morning —the fifth day. And God said, ‘Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: livestock, creatures that move along the ground, and wild animals, each according to its kind.’ And it was so. God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1: 20-25) I would argue – though I’m sure some will protest – that nowhere in these verses does it read that God created life on Earth only. The Hebrew word for earth here is not a planetary name, it’s the word for “matter” or “dirt” and might be interpreted to mean anywhere that has dirt or matter.

Astronomers are very clear now that there is dirt elsewhere in the Universe.

To exobiologists it’s a natural extension to believe that life exists elsewhere. For Christians, it should be a natural extension to believe that life exists elsewhere as well.

I do. You?

Resources: http://www.apologeticspress.org/APContent.aspx?category=12&article=1207, http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,355400,00.html, http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/06/will-aliens-des/

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0zLCUD5K91ach7p6SqQZeROBVvsc6OSblO41SEgIUEqyXBx_MLPPeJtvAnyBQ-fnmvy5Ka6jWqzkZ0cw9Fpol6IcQxfLA7AwlkixsYmWPATi0vt3XfJ4xsWOBRoAqqN2n3H1V3Bm7BI/s400/hand-of-god.jpg

STEAMPUNK MONKEY #1

The idea for this starts with a story I tried to write about a thieving monkey who took keys and used them to unlock its cage. That was it. The story was called BRIGHT FLASH THE MONKEY’S PAWS. It was my third or fourth attempt at writing a picture book – and it was really bad. With the advent of the genre of steampunk, I started rethinking the story. Here it is – it will shortly replace my last picture book manuscript, SNAPPER XING…

Clementine sneezed at dogs and cats. She wheezed at birds and fish. Frogs were no good. Turtles were bad.

Clementine could have NO PETS!

One day when she woke, at the end of her bed was a metal monkey. It had no fur. It had no scales. It had no feathers or slime.

image: http://thisisrusa.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/steampunkmonkey.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 63

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.

H Trope: horrible spiders

Current Event: http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/bugs/egyptian-giant-solpugid/

In the creepy tradition of the movie PIRANHA (1978) (which contained a line that, even though I saw the movie 32 years ago has remained etched in my mind forever: “Sir, the piranha, they’re eating the guests.”), I offer you this twist on the theme…or, if you prefer, a twisted theme…

Paul Grogan and his girlfriend Maggie McKeown are “vacationing” and “camping” at Kelly’s Slough National Wildlife Refuge near Grand Forks, North Dakota. His mom, her dad are officers in the Air Force. Both are scientists – her dad’s a doctor, his mom a specialist in arachnids. Which are spiders.

She loves spiders, he can take them or leave them – he wants to be a horse vet. When he asks what she wants to be more than anything else in the world, she said, “I want to marry a really, really rich old guy who ‘dies before his time’.”

“What?” Paul exclaimed. “I thought we were gonna get married!”

She smiled up at him, reached over, patted his hand and said, “I want to marry the rich guy first so I can inherit his millions. After he dies, I’ll marry you and then support you as a vet so you can live wherever you want to live.”

“I want to live with you…” Paul says. He screamed, shaking his hand wildly, Something bit me!”

“Probably a spider. Your mom says they’re working on spider control here.” She grinned at his horrified look, “You know that that means she’s on some kind of top-secret project to develop spiders as weapons.” Shaking his hand again, he looked behind him and then place his hand again. “Aren’t you afraid it’s going to bite you again?”

“Aside from the fact that I’ve been bitten by just about every spider known to Humanity and have a broad-based anti-venin booster every six months? Not really.”

She snorted. “You just don’t respect spiders the way I do.”

He shook his head and said, “I do feel sorta weird.”

“What do you mean, sorta weird?”

“Sorta like...I want to eat spiders.”

“Not with the same mouth that kisses these lips!” she exclaimed. “I may love spiders, but I’m not in a kissing relationship with any of them.”

He blinked hard and swayed. “I’m not kidding, Meg. I feel like I’m out of time.”

For the first time, she looked alarmed. “Like you’re going to die?”

“No – not that out of time. Like I’m out of our time. Like I want to go Spider hunting…”

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re not talking about traditional Earthly spiders?”

“I...I...have a really, really awful craving for some spider meat. Lots and lots,” he looked at her with wide eyes, “Spider meat.”

Image: http://www.ursulasweeklywanders.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/00-OK-so-tarantulas-are-arachnids_2010.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS – The Extinction of Fantasy

In reading and in writing I have been and always will be a science fiction fan.

I will confess in secret that I have read fantasy, but that I am extremely finicky. The fantasy novels and/or series I have read can be counted on two hands: LOTR, Chronicles of Narnia, CHRONICLES OF THE DERYNI (only 9), THOMAS COVENANT (only 6), SWORD OF SHANNARA (just the first one), PERDIDO STREET STATION, JONATHAN STRANGE AND MR. NORREL, WAR FOR THE OAKS, the first book of SONG OF FIRE AND ICE (never again), and the first book of THE WHEEL OF TIME (never EVER again).

For the purpose of this blog entry, let me note the publication dates of these books:

LOTR – 1954

ChronN – 1950

ChronD – 1970

ChronTC – 1977

SoS – 1977

WFTO – 1987

TWOT – 1990

SOFAI – 1996

HP – 1997

PSS – 2000

JSaMN – 2004

According to the data I have obtained, the decline of science fiction began in 1999:

http://dwarfplanetpress.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/sfvfantasy.jpg

It might be said that at that point, the extinction event of science fiction followed on the heels of the meteoric rise of HARRY POTTER. After that point, science fiction writers, magazines, books and paraphernalia were in the minority. (I don’t count movies here because I believe that movies are more a reflection of instantaneous culture than long-term culture.) Let me also note that the death knell of science fiction was sounded by a children’s book. Let me note again that up until that point, young adults still occasionally read the works of Heinlein, Norton, Christopher and more recently often read Westerfeld and Collins – though I might note for the fourth time that the oldsters dealt in Utopias and the kids deal in DYStopias, which is getting tiresome already and will kill the YA genre dead soon.

I will also note (for the last time of noting) that up until HP, science fiction and fantasy were pretty much neck-and-neck in the race for readership.

Oh, whoops. What’s the difference between SF and F you ask? In the immortal words of Nancy Lebovitz:

Science fiction is about the unknown which is to be understood and thereby changed

Fantasy is about the unknown which is to be loved for its strangeness

Horror is about the unknown which is to be feared

Disaster [fiction] is about the unknown and is to be endured

Realistic fiction iterates that the unknown isn't worth bothering with

http://www.treitel.org/Richard/sf/fantasy.html

At any rate, it is my studied opinion that fantasy is hearing its own death knell. The market has been flooded and the tropes are wearing so thin that parodies are coming out before the ink has dried on the most recent printing (http://sfscope.com/2012/05/gollancz-acquires-hunger-games.html: “The Hunger But Mainly Death Games by John Bailey Owen and Aaron Geary has already been self-published by the authors and sold over 25,000 copies…Owen is a former editor of the Harvard Lampoon, the name behind Bored of the Rings, and New York Times bestselling Twilight parody Nightlight.”)

So then: while there is still science fiction being published and people are also getting tired of teen dystopias; where is the meteorite that will cause the KT Extinction Event for fantasy?

What are your thoughts? Ideas? Irritations?

Keep watching this space for updates!

Image: http://www.scienceagogo.com/news/img/asteroid_impact.jpg

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS 37

I read the play version of Daniel Keyes’ FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON when I was in eighth grade. It has stayed with me for decades, a haunting symbol for both the overwhelming possibilities of the human intellect and the overwhelming impossibilities faced by a profoundly challenged human mind. I’ve started and stopped this novel a half a dozen times in eleven years. I want to bring the original idea into the present millennium. To read RECONSTRUCTION from beginning to here, click on the label to the right and scroll four pages back until you get to the bottom.

CJ was sure he would hit Dr. Douchebag where it would hurt him most.

Suddenly, his head seemed to explode and everything went dark for a moment as he felt himself spinning to one side and crashing into the emergency cot.

Mom screamed.

The nurse cursed and in the distance, CJ thought he heard an alarm whooping.

After a few seconds, he felt hands lifting him, shouting and more things falling.

Mom was crying near his left ear and he heard Mai Li murmuring in the other. “CJ? Are you all right?” a totally unexpected voice asked.

He opened his eyes and said, “Job?”

“Hey, man.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You called, I came,” he said, smiling widely. “I could tell you needed me the second I got here.”

Mom said from his left ear, “He’s the one who called the police.”

In his right ear, Mai Li managed to say, “I called the lawyer. She’s a good friend of mine now.”

A strange voice from across the small emergency room said, “With the patent on your counter-treatment to Dr. Chazhukaran’s experimentation coupled with the lawsuit against him and the University of Minnesota – which, by the way, has severed all connection with him – and then bring a personal injury suit against him with the U of M as a co-defendant, will make my career, no doubt.”

Mai Li laughed faintly, “I like her attitude. I always know where she stands and if she thinks I’m being stupid, she says so.”

“She’s been very stupid in the past seven days,” the woman said.

“On the other hand, she was right here when Dr. Douche...” Mai Li gasped and fell back on her cot. Buzzers and bleating and the suddenly flurry of real doctors and nurses and Mom lifted him to the floor. He staggered and found Job’s arm around him, holding him up as they moved out of the way.

Another nurse ushered them out of the emergency suites. He said, “Wait here. Someone will be out when we know something.”

Sitting, CJ leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. “My head hurts.”

“That doctor...” Mom began.

“He punched you,” said Job.

“Punched...”

“He says you were going to hurt him,” Job said. “What a wimp. He thought you could hurt him.”

CJ looked up, “Hey!”

“You know what I mean!”

“He...”

The nurse came out and gestured to them, “Come in, please! Hurry.”

They got up and a wave of dizziness rolled over CJ. Mom stopped and Job grabbed him. “No! We have to go in! We have to hear what she has to say!” The two of them helped him into the suite. The nurse nodded them in and stepped back outside.

Mai Li was sitting up, smiling faintly. She said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to die yet – and if I have anything to say about it, I won’t die for a long, long time.”

“You found a way to stop the nanos?” CJ exclaimed.

“I didn’t say I was going to stay a super genius wonder babe, Little Idiot Brother. I said I’m not going to die.”

“Then what...”

“If you quit interrupting me, I can tell you that I’ve been unable to find any way to stop the nanos from rebuilding my brain the way it was when Dr. Douchebag started his mad doctoring. My only attempt hasn’t made any difference, but my lawyer friend is punching through a patent on the little buggers.”

“So your intelligence is going to die,” Mom said.

Mai Li looked at her, surprised then nodded slowly. “In the end, I’ll be the same person I started as. Theoretically.” She paused a long time until she finally said, “And I’ll get to watch every step of the way.”

Image: http://www.teachwithmovies.org/guides/charly-DVDcover.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 62

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.

F Trope: Most lycanthropy, telekinesis, etc starts at puberty why not at menopause…

A Not-So-Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Werewolf

According to the source above – “A notable exception to the association of Lycanthropy and the Devil, comes from a rare and lesser known account of an 80-year-old man named Thiess. In 1692, in Jurgenburg, Livonia, Thiess testified under oath that he and other werewolves were the Hounds of God. He claimed they were warriors who went down into hell to do battle with witches and demons. Their efforts ensured that the Devil and his minions did not carry off the grain from local failed crops down to hell. Thiess was steadfast in his assertions, claiming that werewolves in Germany and Russia also did battle with the devil's minions in their own versions of hell, and insisted that when werewolves died, their souls were welcomed into heaven as reward for their service.”

Teodors Pakalns (Latvian) – who goes by Ted in his Minnesota high school is in his supposedly “native land” while mom and dad go clubbing on the French Riviera to celebrate their 20^th wedding anniversary. While admitting to himself that with the divorce rate at 73%, it might be something worth celebrating, sending him to live with his LATVIAN grandfather in some dinky town of Lode? Near the bustling metropolis of Rujiena? What the heck is he supposed to do?

He frets, fumes and mutters about lousy internet connections until he’s so hungry, he can’t stand it. Coming out to eat, he finds that his grandfather has made a simple meal. It smells great and looks sort of like a calzone. Ted eats on, then eats another and then in sudden and surprisingly good English, grandpa tells him a story. He also tells him he needs to watch out – grandpa Pakalns is a werewolf. He’s a werewolf on a mission from God!

Jaanjika Kivi (Estonian) is called Jan in Helsinki where she lives with her artist mother. She drags Jan to visit her “she’s-been-dying-for-the-last-ten-years” grandmother in Mom’s home of Estonia, which she escaped as a kid by winning an art scholarship to Helsingin Yliopisto the University of Helsinki. Jan and her mother trek to the tiny Estonian town of Karski near the roaring metropolis...of Tartu.

*sigh*

Mom says she can go, but she’ll have to walk. Then Mom goes out to paint, leaving Jan with her elderly grandmother. Jan is mostly afraid of the old woman and doesn’t remember her speaking anything but some old language Jan assumes is Estonian.

Until suddenly Grandma starts to tell a story – in clear English – about how she was a werewolf, on a mission for God...then she turns to Jan and says, “You are my granddaughter. My own daughter refused to take up the mission. I am asking if you would take up my mission; complete it and do what our people have been called to do for five hundred years. I will be with you the entire time, but you must be my strong arms and strong legs. Will you do it, Jaanjika?” Grandma’s eye’s suddenly clear and seem to pierce her heart. “Will you?”

Jaanjika meets Teodors on the border between Estonia and Latvia – in the heart of the ancient land of Livonia, a land with an ancient history that may very well be poised at the dawn of a new era that rights an millennium old wrong.

But what about the forces that don’t want the wrong set right. The ones who have profited from the carnage? Who are they and what will they do to Jaanjika and Teodors?

Resource: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Livonia

Image: http://data.whicdn.com/images/23021495/tumblr_lzcbpi9sOa1qjg5wuo1_500_thumb.jpg , http://www.afterelton.com/sites/www.afterelton.com/files/2011/07/008_0.jpg

WRITING ADVICE – SL Viehl #3: Memed Again

I stumbled across the writing of Sheila Kelly (aka SL Viehl, Gena Gale, Jessica Hall, Rebecca Kelly and Lynn Viehl) about eleven years ago with the publication of her first novel, STARDOC. I was looking for a the work of a current writer to replace one of my favorite kind of science fiction – human doctors in a space hospital working on aliens. I discovered this genre as an adolescent in Alan E. Nourse’s STAR SURGEON, followed it into James White’s SECTOR GENERAL books and A.M. Lightner’s DOCTOR TO THE GALAXY. S.L. Viehl’s books satisfied that itch – but I learned about a year ago that she is so much more than just a “space hospital” writer! The bits of writing advice in this new ten part series are used with her permission. This one is from:

http://pbackwriter.blogspot.com/2012/04/memed-again.html

I am currently hot on the trail of my new novel and thus far, in the past month, I’ve written 18,000 or so words. I know it’s not NaNoWriMo level, but it’s prodigious for me! It’s because the story is about me – as if I’d been transported eighty years into the future following the Information Apocalypse and the Consolidation of Humanity and the Return of the Wild…

But I’ll save that for the book.

In her April 11, 2012 blog entry, she responded to a challenge – I guess they call it “tagging” (as in “Tag, you’re it!” or as in “tagging – using spray paint to create a piece of art or your name on the side of a railroad car” or as in “tagging – adding on to the end of something” or as in “tagging – writing a list of what is in a box and then taping/pasting/sticking it on the box” or as in “tagging – making a price marker and then putting on an object at a garage sale or thrift store” or as in “tagging – putting someone’s name on a photo on FaceBook and then posting it”? I don’t know.)

The challenge here was: “Thea Harrison tagged me, but this one is kinda fun.

Per Thea’s site…Whee, authors are tagging each other to post 7 lines from page 77 of our latest book or current manuscript, starting after the 7th sentence.”

Lynn posted a bit from her upcoming new book, NIGHTBRED by Lynn Viehl (one of her several pseudonyms).

So even though I haven’t been tagged myself, I’m going to do this to the few writer friends I have and see what happens. Here’s the entry from MY current work in progress...only to discover that I haven’t typed in my latest handwritten work yet and it JUST SO HAPPENS to have stopped at page 76. So…after I enter the handwritten work, I’ll be back here to post.

There:

“Noah couldn’t help himself. He said, ‘If it doesn’t matter if Xn died, then why does it matter who killed it?’

“Six pairs of eyes, a lot of tiny tentacles and a pair of tumescent antennae focused on Noah. He noticed that the Shabe’s tail fur was rigid and unmoving in the breeze blowing out of the north. Claws on its tiny arms had become slick with some liquid.

“Tane Giang made sputtering sounds and turned to I Have No Name, saying loudly, ‘Honored Sentient, this absurd Human does not speak for Humanity at all! We all agree…’”

The people I will tag...I guess I thought about this again and I won’t be tagging anyone. If I COULD tag some people, these are the ones I’d do:

Mike Duran

Bruce Bethke

Marc Blake

Gray Reinhart

Mary Robinette Kowal

Becky Jones

Catherin Asaro

David Steffen

Eric James Stone

Ken Scholes

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Michael Flynn

and maybe a few others.

Maybe I will someday when I have a novel on a shelf somewhere and I have more confidence in my ability to include people I admire for their writing in something fun like this. But for now, it’s fun to imagine.

Plus, any comments on my little seven sentences – or if you’d like to volunteer your seven sentences, place a link to your response in the COMMENTS section, I’ll gather them together and put them into an essay and I’ll get it posted as soon as I can!

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2-bDyvleB2B9VGDOY238pS5cSe4MkadFe_Ki6y4gSF0-xrY6PYZRyF0GpB4ifDJpJEf8r_QQQPj61SZ97ebURsNJIQndH-oGQ3-v0jfxfzzUp4UG0nfjeJ1tp4WUPgaGwYsZ155FGa0w/s400/squirrels_with_lightsabers!!!%255B1%255D.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 61

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: Aliens are perfectly unified in all ways – think, say, believe and do

Current Event: http://www.straight.com/article-395679/vancouver/david-suzuki-anthropocene-calls-unified-human-response-ecological-crisis

So, most forward thinkers believe that Humans are bad and that aliens are good. Except for a few – like David Brin (http://www.davidbrin.com/shouldsetitransmit.html) and Stephen Hawking (http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/1004/30/lkl.01.html), who believe that the rest of us may be stupid and aliens are dangerous.

Both viewpoints assume that aliens are perfectly unified in how they think and act. All "good" or all "bad".

So this week’s idea turns on that assumption:

David Lange has traveled with his parents for almost 18 years to every Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence conference, seminar and meeting in the US as well as hundreds of UFO conferences on the North American continent as well as several in Europe, Australia, China, Russia, Brazil and India. They’re psychologists trying to understand WHY people believe in aliens – and they have 26 books, 148 podcasts and have been on every television talk show from Springer to Meet The Press. They have DVD series and both of them regularly act as guest professors at universities all over the world, teaching on the psychology of belief.

Clara Finch’s father disappeared on her fourth birthday, when they were on a camping trip in the Rockies. Her mother has been convinced since then that lights she saw in the heights were UFOs and her husband was abducted a la Close Encounters of the Third Kind. She, too has followed the conference circuit as well as telling her story to a writer who collected alien abduction stories. The man wrote the book, Unsolved Abductions: Alien Overlords! Where Are Our Loved Ones?

They are in Roswell, New Mexico for the 75^th Anniversary of the Alien Incident. So, it seems, are all the other kooks. And researchers. And scientists. As well as psychics, parapsychologists, FBI agents, CIA agents, KGB agents and InterPol. There’s a contingent of nuns and one of Buddhist monks from Tibet as well. The city has swollen from its usual population of 50,000 to over 150,000. The National Guard is there as well as several Army platoons on “exercises”.

Clara and David run into each other, take a shine and spend most of a night at a local carnival. All is pretty normal until a man walks up to them and says, “Listen, I know this is insane, but Clara, I’m your dad.” He turns to David and says, “Your parents are wrong, and now the Earth might not be ready to face the Zheel…”

Image: http://application.denofgeek.com/images/m/75spaceships/main/Mothership.jpg