IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 291

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: Blue Collar Warlock ("I have an idea that most of the mystics in comics are generally older people, very austere, very proper, very middle class in a lot of ways. They are not at all functional on the street. It struck me that it might be interesting for once to do an almost blue collar warlock. Somebody who was streetwise, working class, and from a different background than the standard run of comic book mystics. Constantine started to grow out of that.")

Current Event: “Forgive me for getting a bit carried away. I find it an entertaining exercise to look for those parallels. I simply wonder if the manner in which we tackle the challenges we face in real life is reflected in the way we tackle our virtual battles. As a side-note, I'd also be interested to see what kind of people the Destiny sub consists of.” (http://www.reddit.com/r/DestinyTheGame/comments/2n3xfc/whats_your_primary_class_and_what_do_you_do_in/)

Rafael Pai-Teles sighed. “Eu vou estar o trabalhar para a Metrô del Belo Horizonte para o resto de minha vida!”

Eduarda Cisota shook her head and said, “Speak English. Your Portuguese is crappy.”

“I can’t work for the Belo Horizonto Metro  for the rest of my life!”

Eduarda said, “What else are you going to do?”

Rafael said, “I can do something else.”

“You can’t do anything,” she said. “Now get back to work.”

Rafael scowled. “I’m worth a lot more than you think I am!” he snapped.

“You’re a kid. Just like me. You’re gonna run the train and I’m gonna take tickets from now until forever. It’s what happened. At least we didn’t get turned into stalagmites. We were lucky to be here when the Donkey Wizard took over Up North.”

“It was the Elephant Sorceress and she turned everyone into obsidian shards,” Eduarda said.

He threw his arms into the air and shouted, “Whatever! I can do something about it!”

“About every living thing being turned into some kind of inorganic obelisk – what can you possibly do?” Rafael crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Eduarda rolled her eyes and said, “That didn’t come out how I meant it to come out.”

“How did you mean it, as a compliment?”

“No, but I didn’t mean to sound so...” as she spoke, a train roared into Carlos Prates Estação.

“I have to go now! I’ll tell you what I can do later!” he shouted.

She watched him run after the train where he was a porter. His father had been a physicist in the Aryabhata tradition, dealing with solar energy and, accordingly, solar weapons. He’d died when the Wizard or Sorceress or whoever turned life to stone. There was some Christian writer who’d written of a fictional sorceress who had done then, but she didn’t know who. The train started to pull out and she cursed. Now she’d have to...As she watched, the concrete platform under Rafael’s feet shimmered, then appeared to be a mound of living tissue – like a wart or pimple or something equally disgusting. As it rose though, it allowed Rafael to step easily on to the train. She rubbed her eyes and when she opened them, her long-time friend was waving back at her, grinning ear to ear as he pulled from the station.

Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belo_Horizonte_Metro

Names: ♀ Brazil; ♂ Brazil

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-arXKTiwzTybeiZ-IjR8P9j_aP2vqKXJulRCqqk_e42EoyXriDrQffp-dV_b96wQqLf5Y-M9XYpYkS4Lpz0PJvQcjGfHXS3M8QSPWCq9l9UURqlah0AR2TAlNeS4yX_NR2arOLIZVuY/s1600/2212_1025142570.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: Can This Story Be SAVED? #9 “Late Archaic Unicorn” (Submitted 8 Times Since , Never revised)

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, In April of 2014, I figured I’d gotten enough publications that I could share some of the things I did “right”. I’ll keep that up, but I’m running out of pro-published stories. I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it, but someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. Hemingway’s quote above will remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales, but I’m adding this new series of posts because I want to carefully look at what I’ve done WRONG and see if I can fix it. As always, your comments are welcome!

ANALOG Tag Line: What if unicorns were real?

Elevator Pitch (What Did I Think I Was Trying To Say?): If unicorns actually existed at one time, what would we do if that history was actually protected information of Aboriginal peoples everywhere?

Opening Line: “Tierra Land had seen the images a thousand times, but never live.”

Onward: From there, my main character meets a handsome stranger – he shows her his painting, they go on a date and agree to write a paper together. Pretty simple. Some might say, “Where’s the rest of the story?”

What Was I Trying To Say? That there are things we think we know, “There’s no such thing as a REAL unicorn!” when the fact is that science and scientists don’t know everything – and that there will, in fact be some things that we can’t know.

While saying that there are things we might never know seems antithetical to the definition: “a systematic enterprise that builds and organizes knowledge in the form of testable explanations and predictions about the universe” (Wikipedia) nowhere does it mention infallibility – and no scientist anywhere can say with certainty that the science of ANYTHING is settled. It was once settled that the speed of light was a constant and a mathematical symbol created for it – as in E=mc² (where c is a constant representing 300,000,000 m/s), but it’s just as well known today that the speed of light is not always constant… https://www.sciencenews.org/article/speed-light-not-so-constant-after-all.

The definition above absolutely intends to mean the first definition of “enterprise” – which is “a project or undertaking, typically one that is difficult or requires effort”, but the authors also noticed the second definition: “a business or company”, which is ALSO what science is; and what the current commander-in-chief has some experience in dealing with…

The Rest of the Story: It’s a short-short, a bit over two thousand words long. Too long for flash, but short enough to say what I wanted to say – without going on to have them involved in some kind of intrigue, love drawing them together and making it into a 10,000 word novella. It’s not what I was interested in doing. I just wanted to pose an interesting thought, sketch an image, and have something interesting happen. Could I pad it? Sure! But that’s not what I set out to do…

End Analysis: I still like this story, though I thought of two changes I could make: first, I’m going to move sentence from early on page 2 and make it the first sentence. It will set up the story better. Secondly, I’ll give a clearer description of the unicorn in the main character’s painting.

Can This Story Be Saved?  Yup. In fact, I’ll make the changes above today, and send it out afterward!

Rejection 1: 1/30/17

Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9f/22/3b/9f223b1e57a36e14db3eb13715fbe3f9.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 95: Stepan of Burroughs

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified 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. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (70,000+ words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.

“I’m reading an old government document,” said MishAH. His experience with security made him the best doubter of their vat decantation. He cleared the map and enlarged the ancient government document. “The way this is phrased makes it clear that someone – likely a whole bunch of someones! – on Mars knew about these tunnels. It’s not clear if Humans made them or not, but we know about them. Knew about them even back then.”

DaneelAH pursed his lips then said, “Then that makes it even more important that we connect with this Paolo and the Hero of the Faith Wars. I think they must be working together.”

“Why do they want us?” AzAH said. MishAH, HanAH, and DaneelAH turned to her.

DaneelAH said, “When we find that out, they we’ll know where we’re going and why.” He turned to MishAH, “You said it before – you’ve seen things stirring on this rusty pinball and there’s something going on in Opportunity the Mayoral consort and her affiliation to dubious christianity.” He paused, “We’re in Burroughs and we know something’s going on here and Mayor Turin back home allowed us to be kidnapped from Malacandra.”

Under cover of the roar of noise in the Dome, his vat mates exclaimed loudly. Other blue Artificial Humans noted the exchange, two of them taking exception to the mention of a racist, sexist, and Human-hating ancient religion. Two others took note of the same mention. The first two passed them, glaring. The other two looked at each other and then split, making for the exits of the Thoroughfare.

HanAH, who had seen both exchanges ignored them and said, “What in Humanity’s name are you talking about?”

DaneelAH, who’d always and inexplicably been the tallest one of the mates, looked down at him and said, “You think this Paolo just kidnapped us on his own?”

MishAH, who was best at pattern recognition stared at him, open mouthed for several seconds. He finally reached over to push his jaw closed. She slapped his hand. “I knew that!”

He smiled. “You probably did, subconsciously. You just needed me to pry the logjam,” he emphasized the word, “that’s been blinding you from seeing the obvious.”

AzAH shook her head slowly. “Why would the Mayor of Malacandra be attempting to promote an ancient religion?”

“Maybe he’s not promoting a religion,” said HanAH abruptly. “Maybe he’s preparing for a revolution.”

“An insurrection, perhaps,” DaneelAH said.

“What’s the difference?”

“An insurrection leads to a refusal to be controlled and then freedom to arrange ourselves. Revolution’s aim is to replace one regime with another – which might be better or worse.”

“Somebody has to call the shots,” AzAH exclaimed.

DaneelAH scanned the slowly moving mass of Humans, both artificial and Natural, robots, carts, cars, and flyers as they seethed under the Dome. He said, “We need someplace to go…” Something tugged at his sleeve. He looked down.

A blue boy, somewhere on the verge of adolescence, craned his neck as he looked up at DaneelAH, and said, “I got someone wants to meet you, Sir.”

DaneelAH resisted the urge to yank his knee-length tunic free and said, “You must have me confused with someone else, boyAH.”

“Don’t think so, Sir. I was sent to lead you.”

“Where?” HanAH asked, looming and scowling his best Security Scowl. AzAH covered his mother to keep from laughing.

The boy looked up at him and said, “My friend Stepan’d like to talk to you. Says anyone new in town what talks like him needs to be shown to the Rim.”

“The Rim? Who would we want to meet in the most run down place in a Dome?”

The boyAH stepped back, looked HanAH over once, feet to face, then said, “Anyone what says the ‘c’ word is someone Stepan wants to talk to.”

“What ‘c’ word,” AzAH asked.

“The ‘christian’ word, a’ course.”

“Why would he want to talk to us when the word is illegal? What do you have to do with him – or even mentioning the word? Where did you come from? How long have you been spying on us?” MishAH fired questions at the boyAH.

Nonplussed, he shrugged and said, “Stepan said that if you didn’t wanna come with me, I was supposed to tell you that he’s some sort of hero in something he called the ‘faith wars’.” The boyAH shrugged. “I dunno know what it…” This time he did shrink away from the combined gaze of four adult Artificial Humans.

DaneelAH whispered, “Take us to him.”

The boyAH shrugged and said, “He don’t look like no hero I ever seen, but come on, follow me if you want to. Don’t matter to me.” When he saw they were ready, he set off, moving fast as a weasel and looking like an engine pulling a train of huge cars.

Image: https://static.pexels.com/photos/7717/pexels-photo.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 290

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. Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility, integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.

Fantasy Trope: The Quest

Current Event: http://contemplativequest.com/, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice's_Adventures_in_Wonderland

Světlana Angelika pursed her lips, looking out over the hectares of forest. In the MSP Vertical Village, it was mostly deciduous trees – oak, maple, patches of white-barked birch, poplar – with a sprinkling of pine trees. The concourse she and Uthman Aali were on was packed with people. Not a hundred thousand, for sure, but too many to think. “We need to go somewhere,” she said abruptly, speaking in the too loud manner of all the inhabitants of Vertical Villages everywhere.

Uthman gave her a look that said, “You’re crazy.”

She slugged him in the shoulder. It was a little kid move – but then, they’d been friends since they were three years old. “No, I’m serious. We need to go somewhere real.”

Without changing his stare, Uthman said, “We can go up to the six hundredth floor...”

“No! I don’t mean here. This is all so...boring. We need to go,” she pause, “through a looking glass.”

“A what?”

“A looking glass! Haven’t you ever read Alice in Wonderland?”

“I might have seen a threevee of it once. Wasn’t it a cartoon?”

“Yes – and no, you haven’t seen this. Lewis Carroll wrote a novel, it’s true. But he was a mathematician. His logic is all over the book. Math. Everything.”

Uthman snorted, “It sounds like science fiction.”

“It’s fantasy – she steps through a mirror.”

“If it’s math and logic, it’s science fiction.”

“There are talking rabbits,” said Světlana. “And a talking, disappearing cat. As well as a talking, smoking caterpillar, talking mice, and soldiers made of playing cards.”

“OK. You win. It’s a fantasy. But what does it have to do with us? What kind of mirror can we jump through? I’m sure there are some here – but...”

“The windows. We can jump through one of those.”

“A window?”

“Come on, let’s go to the outer walls. We’ll leap through one of those!” She turned and ran, Uthman running after her.

Names: ♀ Czech, Roman; ♂ Arabic, Hindu

Image: http://www.skyscrapernews.com/images/pics/6255CaernarfonCastle_pic1.jpg

Slice of PIE: Somewhere Between Paradise and Hell-On-Earth…The NEXT Big Thing

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Kansas City in August 2016 (to which I was invited and had a friend pay my membership! [Thanks, Paul!] but was unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #2312. The link is provided below…

Many stories are set in either grand interstellar deep space futures or a trapped-on-Earth dystopias. We discuss the “middle future” in SF written today and yesterday, and where it falls on the Utopia/Dystopia spectrum.

Jack Campbell Jr. (aka John G. Hemry) – the LOST FLEET series, also science fiction short stories in ANALOG for a long time!

Thomas K. Carpenter – lots of books, some appear darker than others…

Sarah Frost – Among other things, an ANALOG writer.

Mr. Peadar O Guilin – several YA novels under his belt.

Tamara Jones – published in many genres

John Joseph Adams – renowned editor…of practically everything…

I’m reading a series right now that is about a grand interstellar deep space future…that fell apart, the second to last book of Julie Czerneda’s CLAN CHRONICLES.

David Brin once wrote of a grand interstellar deep space future…in which Humans became hunted heretics and fought against each other – most likely for religious reasons. Humans remained the ONLY rational beings in this future.

The first book in my own YA series, HEIRS OF THE SHATTERED SPHERES is a grand interplanetary future that has a nasty glitch in it: where once the Solar system was home to an aggressive species whose home was Venus, that civilization has been destroyed…though an AI doesn’t realize that Humans are not the descendants of those aliens.

Others that come to mind are myriad, but the YA genre seems to be churning out dystopian lit still, there are hints that it might be turning away from the darkness and “into the light”. While these are not by any means “utopian”, they are a far cry from the teen-slaughtering dystopias of recent memory: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/teen/13-of-our-most-anticipated-science-fiction-yas-of-2016/

In my brief overview of coming YA SF&F, I only found one real dystopian/hopeless/teen slaughter novel and the blurb seemed more of a rehash of what’s already been done.

Does this mean we’re done with dystopias? Probably not. Most likely the vein has been played out…but that means that there may well be pockets of truly marvelous work. Very few people would have thought that there was anything left in the “wizarding school” vein that hadn't been mined to extinction. Then JK Rowling hit something no one – NOT “had never done before” – had mined in that peculiar way and polished up to that peculiar shine.

You already know from following me, that I loved the works of Robert A Heinlein, Andre Norton, and Alan Nourse. They were wonder-full for their time and their books have remained in print for half-a-century.

There is no doubt that Rowling’s books will remain extant as they drift into history to become true classics.

But upon whom will the mantel of SCIENCE fiction writer for the young fall? There are some hints – Marissa Meyer? Suzanne Collins? Will McIntosh? Paolo Bacigalupi? Who knows.

This person has to both discover an idea that has old roots – and make it relevant to young people today. What could that be? Mythology (maybe a non-Greek/Celtic/Roman/Western one?) add that to a futuristic form of communication (YAs are nothing without their cellphones!) Maybe mythology is TOO ancient. How about leaving Earth – not in a negative way, lots of people have tried that; and “climate change” trope seems too…I don’t know…trendy for your average teen. Trendy in a negative way; like adults keep saying, “You must save the planet! You must save the planet!”

I can just hear one of the kids in my school muttering, “You wrecked it. YOU save it.”

Nah, it’s got to be something that grabs them. Music maybe? Grab them the way the Beatles grabbed the Baby Boomers, and the way no group or band has grabbed today’s teens – (I checked and there are a LOT of possible names for the generation born after 2000. I’m gonna go with “Tweeters”). So what would a break away book be like for the Tweeters? Music and communication? Maybe an operatic voice for the 21^st century? Maybe singing aliens?

Any thoughts?

Program Book: https://midamericon2.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/MACII-PP-Interior-Final-HiRes.pdf

Image: http://www.newslang.ie/images/uploads/phone.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 55

On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. All three intelligences hover on the edge of extinction. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society might not only save all three – but become something not even they could predict. Something entirely new...

The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Kashayla; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two, warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.

“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”

“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.”

 “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.”

 “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)

The Kiiote Qap, lead female of the Pack, said, “Prove that if we worked together, we could accomplish something none of us had managed to do apart.”

Ali-go, a Yown’Hoo Herd male I’d only known to speak one other time, said, “Gravity Modification, foundational mathematical functions that led all three peoples to the advancement of faster-than-light equations, techniques that led to the super-miniaturization of major fusion components – we have all of those. There is only one thing we have not created,” he paused. Right then I knew he was going to be a Herd-father someday. He had the flair for the dramatic that was required of the males of their species. “Immortality.”

The Triad stared at him, blinking stupidly. Finally, the Herd Mother, Dao-hi said, “We were chosen to somehow discover immortality?”

Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh, whom we called Retired, said, “You don’t have to figure it out yourselves. In fact, the predictions are that this first set of Triads – you folks and the group in China and the group in India – will die without accomplishing anything.”

‘Shay and me went, “eep!” together.

The Herd reared as one – even the smallest males – pawing the air wildly, squealing like rusty hinges.

The Pack dropped to their four feet, sat haunches down, lifted their heads and sang at a pitch so high, that ‘Shay and me felt hairs rise on our necks.

My great uncle, Rion shouted, “May it never be!”

We all turned to look at him. I stared longer than everyone else, as they looked away. Finally I found my voice and said, “How can you defy the predictions and plans of the Corporation?”

Retired scowled angrily and said, “He’s a fool, he is. That’s how he can defy the predictions!”

“I’m not defying them – I aim to change the coefficients, variables, and operators.”

“That’s what I mean! You’re going to…”

“Change the future,” ‘Shay said suddenly.

“What?” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

She turned to  me, faced me, grabbed my shoulders and said, “He’s taking us somewhere that we can make a difference! We can change everything – change our future.” She let go of me and spun to the rest of the group. “We don’t have to die like like…like…”

Retired’s arms crossed and locked over his chest as he shook his head. He said, “You don’t have to die like normal people; like the people who live in the houses around your Dome Home; like people on whom the entire planet has laid its hopes and future? Is that who you don’t have to die like, young lady?”

She looked up at him then hung her head. She waved in the direction of GURion. “You have to have a plan.”

My great uncle nodded slowly. “Aye. I have one.”

“What plan…” yipped Qap.

“…do you have?” snapped Xurf.

“I can’t tell you exactly. I can only lead you into it.” It paused. “First of all, it’s not my plan. I’m just a lowly…”

Retired made a brushing motion toward him, like he was trying to sweep snow off the hood of his bakery truck. “You’re not lowly anything. You’re a post-state-of-the-art artificial Human. Scanners from any of our peoples would be unable to tell you from a real Human. You’re forced by your programming to appear to us as a plastic manikin. But you can look like me or ‘Car here if you decide. You may not have conceived the plan, but the ones who set you on the path to its fulfillment trusted you with executing it.”

GURion opened his mouth, closed it with a snap, then said, “You’re going to have to trust that I am operating from a very long-range, deeply-laid plan.” He turned, sweeping the Triad with its extra members with his gaze. “You have to follow me and not ask questions.”

“We have to follow and never question you?” Dao-hi said.

My robot great uncle grinned then and said, “Of course I expect you to question me! What are you, a bunch of robots?”

There was dead silence for an second, then we all busted out laughing.

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Rhll_wire_rope.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 289

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: “One Big Lie: Authors of works in this class invent one (or, at most, a very few) counterfactual physical laws and writes a story that explores the implications of these principles.”

Current Event: http://www.gamesradar.com/10-lies-video-games-tell-us-about-outer-space/

Badria Al Busaidi shook her head and said, “If you could make one thing true about real space, what would it be?” She squirmed in her tiny tube. The two of them were the only ones awake in their pod and the side of the transport device pressed against her, massaging muscles that hadn’t moved in…she stopped that line of thought. They’d been in space ever since they left Earth. They were two among ten thousand who were on their way to the nearest star system to the Sun, Alpha Centauri A.

Mehrdad bin Abdullah squirmed as well. The transport device that held each of them was only transparent at the top. She could tell from the look on his face that he was pre-occupied at the moment. Eyes half-closed, she sighed and turned away, blinking up a three-dimensional image of what the ship looked like on the outside and where they were in relation to Earth and AC-A. Lots of stars.

Boring.

Badria found herself wishing that she could sleep the entire trip away. But the biologists had already brought everyone on the ship as close to death as possible. If they stayed that way, there was evidence that they would simply stay dead. After a short pause during which Mehrdad managed to keep his breathing regular until the very end, he said, “All right. Sorry.” She was about to tease him, but he said instead, “The one thing I’d change is that there’d be aliens waiting for us when we got to AC-C.”

“There ARE aliens, Mehrdad! Haven’t you been listening to the broadcasts?”

“Not aliens just like us! Real aliens. Something that’s different.”

“Different how?”

He shrugged and it made a squelchy sound she could have heard from a mile away. Another thing the ship’s captain-psychologists had made sure of is that when you were awake, you were supposed to have every sense stimulated. She’d already experienced the pain of a broken toe as it was set then healed. Mehrdad was nervously waiting for what was going to happen to him to stimulate his sense of pain.

She’d been lucky in that, though. She’d been assaulted by the smell of newly-mown hay. Mehrdad had to endure the smell of burning Human hair. He’d also experienced another version of things coming out of his body when he barfed not long after he’d had his olfactory senses overloaded.

Suddenly another voice broke into their conversation. Badria rolled her eyes and immediately decided she wasn’t going to talk when she heard the American accented English. She could speak English just fine – all of them could. The American could speak Arabic as well, but the ones who’d been awake when she was usually didn’t. Which was not exactly a bad thing – American English had absolutely no music to it. Arabic sounded so flat and dull whenever someone else tried to speak it. The voice said, “Hello? Anyone alive in here?”

She held her breath, hoping that for once, Mehrdad would hold his tongue.

“We’re all alive here, dickhead. Otherwise why would be going to AC-C?”

There was a long pause and the American voice said, “مهلا، أنا آسف. لم أكن أقصد أن تكون مهينة.” He was almost understandable and there was a sort of cute tone to his voice as he said, “Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insulting.”

“Well, you were,” said Mehrdad.

Badria liked to keep her own counsel, but something compelled her today. She said in Arabic, “You say you want to meet real aliens – but you can’t even keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to an American! Our civilization is twice as old as his – ours is the one that should be graceful and forgiving. Ours is the parent, his is the child.”

She wondered briefly if the American was going to object or act offended or whatever she expected a child of a self-centered, declining civilization to do. But he said nothing. Mehrdad muttered under his breath and she was about to say something when she abruptly felt tired. “Oh, no!” she managed before she began to drift off into her interstellar slumber...

Names: ♀Afghan, Oman ; ♂ Afghani, Oman

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/44/Soyuz_TMA-14_liftoff.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Do Heinlein Juveniles Stand Up?

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Kansas City in August 2016 (to which I was invited and had a friend pay my membership! [Thanks, Paul!] but was unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #2306. The link is provided below…

“Robert A. Heinlein published 12 books between 1947 and 1958 that were aimed at young adults. Can children today enjoy them? Let’s take a dive into these books and cast an appreciative yet critical eye over them.”

Brendan DuBois – mystery writer and Alternate History author

Dr. Marie Guthrie – professor at Western Kentucky University specializing in RAH

Dr. Michael Levy – professor at UW-Stout in Children's and Young Adult Literature. Science Fiction and Fantasy, and Writing

Alec Nevala-Lee – science fiction writer, with three books, his short fiction is almost exclusively in ANALOG

Dr. Janice M Bogstad – UW-Eau Claire, Head of Technical Services for the McIntyre Library, academic writer and editor for numerous areas of speculative fiction

Whew. Now THAT is a lineup!

What might they have had to say?

My own personal opinion is all I can go on here, though others have opinions as well. On the AMAZING STORIES site, Steve Fahnestalk notes: “So why should a modern young person read this stuff? My answer is that knowledge—especially of the recent past, sociologically—is never wasted. Although the customs and morés of our society may be altered, it helps to know how people used to (as recently as fifty years ago) talk, act and think. And Heinlein makes that learning painless, in the same effortless way his characters teach us things about what is now surely an alternate future society. Where there is science, some of that is dated too; but the basics of science don’t change. Young people and older people still interact, and fiction—especially Heinlein’s fiction—is a good way to teach yourself (just by reading and absorbing) how people interact with each other. Besides, and I can say this after rereading most of the YA books very recently, they’re fun to read!” later he adds, “Anyway, you should be aware that there are many people both attacking and defending Heinlein. Spend a little time with Google

or Bing; do a little bit of reading outside the confines of this column, and you might be surprised at what kinds of things you may find out—and opinions you may read!” (http://amazingstoriesmag.com/2014/05/rah-front-robert-heinlein-continued/)

As I see it, students – and I work as a high school counselor as well as having been a science teacher for some 25 years – will read what they want to read. While some of it depends on what they “have to” read for school, the rest of what they read is based on word-of-mouth. I’ve never known a kid to buy a book because of an advertising campaign. They were reading the Harry Potter books long before Madison Avenue decided it was a “thing” and leapt onto the boat…or train as the case may be.

The problem I see is that Heinlein has disappeared from school libraries. Even when I worked at Barnes & Noble, I ordered a set of the Heinlein juveniles for the shelves. They disappeared a month later because they weren’t on the “B&N promotional list”. You could order them, but they were not regularly stocked, precluding the discovery of the books by browsing teens. When they did appear, they were relegated to the Science Fiction & Fantasy shelves.

The current publisher of the books has even attempted to keep up with the times, altering the covers to fit the “style” student’s expect on their book covers.

As I write this, The Heinlein Society is working on a graphic novel version of HAVE SPACESUIT, WILL TRAVEL. Eric Gignac has this to say: “…we believe our team to be a great blend of comic industry talent and experience held together by the glue of our love of the genre, the source material, and the writer.”

As parent and parent-in-law of several young adults, I know that graphic novels are where young people do their reading as well. Once they read this though, my concern is that the novels may have disappeared…then what? In answer to the question I posed above, however, I think that the answer is a clear "Yes."

Cover sites: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/1/11/Have_Space_suit.jpg, https://i0.wp.com/amazingstoriesmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Have-Spacesuit-Will-Travel-by-Robert-Heinlein.-New-English-Library-1978.-Cover-artist-Joe-Petagno.jpg, http://i0.wp.com/www.tor.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/heinlein-have-spacesuit-will-travel.jpg?fit=225%2C%209999&crop=0%2C0%2C100%2C373px, http://www.sffaudio.com/images/large/FCHaveSpacesuit500.jpg, https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/4d/7d/d5/4d7dd5ccb2c3ce8f49caa6081f8a254c.jpg, https://i0.wp.com/amazingstoriesmag.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Robert-A-Heinlein_Have-Space-Suit-Will-Travel_DELREY_DKS-1.jpg, https://pictures.abebooks.com/isbn/9780606004794-us-300.jpg, http://www.heinleinsociety.org/ths/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/hsswt_newsletter_patch-292x300.jpg

Program Book: https://midamericon2.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/MACII-PP-Interior-Final-HiRes.pdf

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 288

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: meet someone “better than me”

Current Event: http://www.livestrong.com/article/557343-factors-affecting-self-esteem-in-teens/

Austin Ventura looked at his classic 2001 Fire Engine Red Jeep Cherokee and grimaced. Most likely if he drove out to the school, he’d speed; get a ticket; Mom or Dad would shout at him – and his car would be impounded. He shrugged and started forward.

So focused on himself, he didn’t even remember his best friend since kindergarten – Carlos Rodriguez Cruz. Where was he? Austin snorted – probable out joy-riding. Question there was, with WHO? Carlos didn’t have many friends. He’d told Austin late one sleepover night that he was afraid. Afraid of the Central American gangs that slimed through certain neighborhoods of Minneapolis – that might forcibly recruit him. He was afraid someone would hurt his sister or find out that while his mother was a registered alien, Dad was illegal. He was afraid of all kinds of things. “How’d we ever get to be friends?” Austin muttered and headed for the street. He’d get to the school not long after Paulina would because he’d use his feet – not the car Dad loathed and threatened to have towed away every other weekend.

By the time he reached the school it was a quarter to four and the sky to the east had started to brighten with false dawn. It was the deepest part of the night, quiet in almost every way; the streets empty. When he started jogging, his cell bouncing in his sweat pants pocket, the sound of his slapping Converses bounced off the uniform clapboard façades of the split-entry or brick-faced Cape Cods with multiple dormers.

A dome of light appeared over the roofs of a dozen suburban houses and when he finally turned the first left corner a mile later, he emerged into the parking lot’s brilliant illumination.

Squinting, he jogged past a couple of cars, recognizing both. “Mr. Stanton and Ms. Laxale? Whew! I knew they liked each other, but this…”

He hurdled a low chain fence whose intent to funnel students to cross at the cross walk – it failed miserably. He jogged up to the three-story school, red-tinged concrete in an ultramodern style intended to make institutional buildings look like art.

From a dark doorway, a voice suddenly said, “Took you long enough. No idea why Carlos is always on about your sprint times.”

A second voice added, “Carlos seems to think he’s in good shape, too.” Austin’s heart seemed to stop in his chest as a very shapely young lady stepped out from the shadows. Austin didn’t think he could breathe. He also felt like a seventh grader who’d just discovered sex. Carlos’ older sister – older by fourteen minutes – was not only the most amazing-looking senior at James Carter High School, but also held the highest GPA and had one of the toughest class loads of anyone he knew. And she held the state record in cross country – boys or girls.

Austin knew lots of things about himself – he’d been battling belittling since he was old enough to remember. He’d also been seeing a psych for almost as long. No matter how attractive, smart and successful people told him he was, he rarely saw all his assets and only his flaws. His perceptions about his place in the world and the things he told himself affected how he valued himself. He usually felt OK.

As she stepped further into the light, he felt himself shrink in the presence of Selita Ebanks twin despite the fact that Carmita Rodriguez Cruz was also deeply religious and easily won any argument against atheist, agnostic, Protestant or amorous teenager. As well as most teachers. Her toughest life decision at the moment was “Stanford, Harvard, or Princeton.” Fists on her hips, she said, “My baby sister tells me you can help us find Carlos.” Her eyes narrowed, “She’d better be right.”

Austin remembered then that she was also taking kickboxing lessons – and that his best friend was missing…

Names: ♂ American, ♂ Mexican, the rest are various…

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-arXKTiwzTybeiZ-IjR8P9j_aP2vqKXJulRCqqk_e42EoyXriDrQffp-dV_b96wQqLf5Y-M9XYpYkS4Lpz0PJvQcjGfHXS3M8QSPWCq9l9UURqlah0AR2TAlNeS4yX_NR2arOLIZVuY/s1600/2212_1025142570.jpg

January 7, 2017 -- A Day That Will Live In Dignity!

MY DAUGHTER GOT MARRIED LAST NIGHT -- AND I JUST GOT UP AN HOUR AGO...SO I'LL POST ON TUESDAY AND THURSDAY AND GET BACK TO Y'ALL NEXT SUNDAY!

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 94: DaneelAH & Company at Burroughs

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified 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 and I’m sorry, but a number of them got deleted from the blog – go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. They are HanAH, the security expert (m); DaneelAH, xenoarchaeologist (m); AzAH, language expert (f); MishAH, pattern recognition (f).

AzAH smiled faintly, crossed her arms over her chest. “What could the Mayor of Burroughs possibly want from the Southern Wastes?”

HanAH said, “The whole planet is a waste – what would the Mayor of one the Five Domes of Mars, possibly want with…”

“He would want evidence that there was alien life on Mars at one time,” DaneelAH said.

HanAH snorted, “What kind of evidence of alien life did Mayor Turin have?”

“Sorry to interrupt the dash into science fiction, people,” MishAH said, “but we’ve got patterning evidence of unusual branching, subsurface markings.”

“What?” said HanAH.

“Tunnels,” said DaneelAH.

“Tunnels where?” said AzAH.

DaneelAH took out his t-comp, his tablet computer then said, “Under Burroughs.”

HanAH snorted, “Of course there are tunnels! There are service areas under…”

“Not just service tunnels. Compared to the other Domes, the tunneling under this crater is more than ten times as dense.”

MishAH scowled, snatched DaneelAH’s comp from him and hunched over it, tapping, swiping, then holding it up to project a holographic image nearly as wide as he was tall. He suspended it then stepped back, his hand going to his hairless blue chin, forefinger and thumb stroking them.

AzAH leaned to DaneelAH and said, “I love it when he slips into his Sherlock Holmes persona.”

HanAH said, “I hate it – he thinks he’s so smart. I’m the security expert – and I’ve even read the entire collection of Sherlock Holmes stories and books. Even the pastiches. They’re garbage, really. Seems like if the Domes are going to ban books, they should have started with those stories rather than religious texts. It’s not like I don’t know…”

MishAH cut him off, saying, “Yes, brother. You’re the expert. But sometimes someone looking at the same data with eyes untainted by the paradigms of your profession can see things you can’t.”

“Like what?”

He reached into the hologram with his fingers pinched, then spread them. “See here?” They all looked closely.

“What are we looking for?”

“There are tunnels below the tunnels, other connecting them. There are also shadows beneath the ones that are mapped that indicate there may be a layer of chambers below these.”

“How old are they?” asked AzAH.

“Hard to say.” He fiddled with the images some more, then pulled up a side screen. “These say that the initial tunnels were laid down about four hundred years ago.”

HanAH, DaneelAH, and AzAH turned to stare at the image. HanAH said, “You’re telling me that they’re older than the Bradbury? Older than Human civilization on Mars?”

MishAH held up a finger, though didn’t take his eyes from the document now floating in front of him. “The tunnels are definitely older than most of the settlements of Mars. But they aren’t older than the original missions. At the end of the 21^st Century, there were Humans here…”

“True, but those were just science stations and experimental weather and concept testing sites! There were no real colonies back then!”

“That’s what we’ve been told, but I’m reading an old government document.” He cleared the map and enlarged the document. The way this is phrased makes it clear that someone – likely a whole bunch of someones! – on Mars knew about these tunnels. It’s not clear if we made them or not, but we know about them.”

DaneelAH pursed his lips then said, “Then that makes it even more important that we connect with this Paolo and the Hero of the Faith Wars. I think they must be working together.”

“Why do that want us?” AzAH said. MishAH, HanAH, and DaneelAH turned to her.

DaneelAH said, “When we find that out, they we’ll know where we’re going and why.”

Image: http://img11.deviantart.net/c3c5/i/2009/067/9/3/dr__manhattan_by_theknightinhell.png

And now for those of you who like PAPER reading (I KNOW it's the same...but you can now get the Kindle version as well as the paper version!):
https://www.amazon.com/Devolution-January-2017-Horror-Magazine/dp/154230959X/ref=la_B015P8JE5S_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1483588371&sr=1-1&refinements=p_82%3AB015P8JE5S

Those who prefer Nook and other versions, they'll be coming soon. For updates, check here: 
http://devolutionz.com/

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 287

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. Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility, integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.

F Trope: dark lord

Current Event: “In November 2012, satellite photos revealed a half kilometer long propaganda message carved into a hillside in Ryanggang Province, reading, ‘Long Live General Kim Jong-un, the Shining Sun!’. The message, located next to an artificial lake built in 2007 to serve a hydroelectric station, is made of Korean letters measuring 15 by 20 meters, and is located approximately 9 kilometers south of Hyesan near the border with the People's Republic of China.” (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/nov/23/north-korea-hillside-homage-kim-jong-un)

Ardian Goodpaster tapped on his tablet-computer – t-comp – and said, “Look, you have to read this!” He held it out to her.

Noemi Zweifelhofer grunted, hunched over her own t-comp. She said, “Doar stai un minut!”

Ardian’s eyes grew wide and he whispered in German, “Ich denke nicht, dass Sie Rumänisch in diesem Augenblick sprechen sollten! Wir sind in genug Schwierigkeiten, wie es ist!”

Noemi finally looked up, her dark eyes flashing and said, “Do you think speaking in English would be all right?”

Ardian snorted, “Better than speaking Romanian. We can get in trouble for that…”

“You don’t think believing that Kim Jong-un is an incarnation of The Dark Lord will keep us out of trouble?”

“I didn’t say I believed it – just that it seems…logical given what Mom and Dad say about how he acted when he went to school here.”

“Your mom and dad were his friends! He hated my dad!”

Ardian shook his head, “I’d probably dislike your dad, too if he stuck my head in a toilet and flushed it…”

“That was a kid’s prank!”

“…fourteen, fifteen and sixteen times on ten different occasions in honor of the illustrious North Korean leader’s birthdays?”

Noemi glared at her best friend, then burst out laughing. Finally she said, “All right, it wasn’t a kid’s prank. But all of our parents agree he was creepy and mean.”

Ardian tapped the t-comp and said, “You really believe that the inscription means what they say it means?”

“‘Long Live General Kim Jong-un, the Shining Sun!’?” He stared at it then slowly shook his head. Noemi continued, “I know my Korean is adequate…” Ardian snorted, but she overrode him, “But I’ve cross-referenced this in half a dozen dictionaries.”

“So what do you think?”

She zoomed in on the image of the inscription then swung to the right, saying, “When it’s written like this, left-to-right and with the order of the characters – and given that the archaic form was used intentionally, it reads, ‘Long dominate Kim Jong-un, Darkest of the Dark Lords’.”

“And no one else in the world reads it that way?”

She held out her t-comp, “I wouldn’t say that.” Their eyes met and for a moment locked. Ardian felt the blood drain out of his face. She handed him her own t-comp. “Read it.”

He kept his eyes on hers then finally looked down. The headline was in German, from a recent edition of Die Welt. “Different Interpretation of North Korea’s Paean of Praise?” He read, looked at her.

“Scroll to the next document. Two weeks later.”

He did and read, “Interpreter Found Murdered”…

Names: ♀; ♂ Today, both are entirely Swiss names

Image: http://www.skyscrapernews.com/images/pics/6255CaernarfonCastle_pic1.jpg