IDEA ON TUESDAY 613

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 horror, I found this insight in line with WIRED FOR STORY: “ We seek out…stories which give us a place to put our fears…Stories that frighten us or unsettle us - not just horror stories, but ones that make us uncomfortable or that strike a chord somewhere deep inside - give us the means to explore the things that scare us…” – Lou Morgan (The Guardian)

H Trope: apocalyptic diary/journal/log
Current Event: http://news.discovery.com/earth/oceans/lost-continent-discovered-beneath-indian-ocean-130225.htm

Andrianampoinimerinatompokoindrindra Zehrezgi – who preferred to go by Andri Zee – tried to keep his last meal down as the boat rocked beneath his feet.

“Isn’t this exhilarating?” exclaimed Shamma Maslah.

“When do you think the hurricane is going to stop?” he asked.

Shamma burst out laughing. “There’s no hurricane! In fact this is the calmest day I’ve seen since we were out here.” She glanced at him and went to the railing and said, “If you don’t like the ocean, why’d you come out here?”

“This site is within the waters of my country.”

She made a face, saying, “I didn’t know you had a country. Not how you talk about it anyway.”

“Madagascar is my homeland!” She grunted and leaned over the rail, looking deeply into the water. “Watch out!” he cried, stepping forward, arm outstretched.

She looked at him and laughed, “What? It scares you when I lean out this far?” she said, leaning back over the railing. Suddenly the water below her grew dark and began to bubble, gently at first, then wildly. Water geysered into the air. She screamed and staggered backward, into Andri Zee’s arms and they watched in horror as...

A fluorescent orange conning tower surged out of the water, sluicing aside until the hatch on top opened up and a young lady waved at them.

Shamma shouted, “Laura! What’s going on?”

Laura shouted back, “You won’t believe what we discovered! Not only is Mauritia a sunken island – there was some sort of sealed chamber there!”

“What?” Andri exclaimed. Majoring in archaeology, THIS is what he’d come for! “Where is it?”

“They had to send down the big sub and they’re bringing up the entire chamber right now.”

Shamma looked at Andri then Liz, bobbing in the conning tower of the sub and shouted, “The time is all wrong! Mauritia sank when the dinosaurs died. There shouldn’t be anything there.”

Liz shrugged, “I don’t know about when it sank or what should and shouldn’t be there, but there’s something big and it looks like it was sealed. See you in a bit!”

*

They rendezvoused at the small sub dock. The massive winch from the ship platform had lifted a barnacled encrusted, roughly cubic case into the air and was swinging it over the helipad, where it lowered the box down.

The metal groaned as the cables above relaxed. Andri said, “It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Way heavier,” said Liz.

Shamma frowned. There was something about it. Something strange. Despite the noise around her, she could hear…not exactly hear…sense? Feel? She wasn’t sure. Something. The hot sun of the Indian Ocean beat down on the head of the crew. Men and women in trunks and halters scampered around the deck, disconnecting chains, cables, hosing down the object. SCUBA divers were lifting up from the waterline; heavy metal music abruptly blared from the deck speakers and the recovery work began in a part atmosphere.

Shamma found a spot, out of the way. Her work on the project was cataloging and identifying life forms; part of a survey team that had set out to begin to quantify the anecdotal evidence that the oceans were beginning to recover now that the world population had precipitously fallen during the H7N9 Pandemic of 2038-2042. With over two billion people dead, the Earth seemed empty now. It scared her sometimes. Abruptly, a migraine assaulted her. It had been years since she had one.

That was when heard a voice, speaking in Olde English. She only caught the first few words, vaguely familiar, but somehow wrong as well, “In the beginning, I created this earth to inhabit heaven...” The migraine became blinding and with a squeak, she passed out.

Names: ♀ UAE, Somalian; ♂ Madagascar, Ethiopian; ♀ Hebrew (diminutive of “Elizabeth”)
Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

MINING THE ASTEROIDS Part 18/POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Asteroid Wars?

Initially, I started this series because of the 2021 World Science Fiction Convention, DisCON which I WOULD have been attending in person if I felt safe enough to do so in person AND it hadn’t been changed to the week before the Christmas Holidays…HOWEVER, as time passed, I knew that this was a subject I was going to explore because it interests me…

On August 21, 2023, I reported this: https://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2023/08/nasa-understanding-solar-system-or-bold.html. The headline reads, in part: “US-China space war over mining asteroids…” Below, follow the link to a 2022 article in the U.S. Sun – same subject.

Currently, it seems to be that the US has continued its stranglehold on all things space – though China and India have landed probes on the Moon and Russia crashed on the Moon (again – though they are the only program anywhere that has successfully landed a probe on Venus…perhaps a testament of the toughness of the Russian psyche (absolutely no pre-pun intended.)

Speaking of Psyche: the US launched a probe to the asteroid 16 Psyche in October of 2023. Ostensibly the mission to Psyche (expected to conclude in 2029) is to “…study Psyche’s exposed core…providing insights into our own planet’s core, the mantle on top, how they both formed, and the conditions during the birth of our solar system.”

That sounds like a noble, NASA-like mission. The exploration of space. Seems perfectly innocent. But when NASA began to hatch the plan, there was a slightly more…lucrative temptation. NOT just the “exploration of space”, but there was something about Psyche that made the eyes of metals investors sparkle like diamonds: “…our Earth-based radar and spectral observations indicate Psyche is either nearly all-metal or a mix of metal and rock, and is either way at least twice as dense as most asteroids…”

While PURELY SPECULATIVE, ruminations on the composition of Psyche produced statements like this: “Earlier in the project, a reporter asked her how much an asteroid like Psyche might be worth given its high metal content. The numbers ranged as high as $10 quintillion.” [ https://www.cbsnews.com/news/nasa-launches-asteroid-probe-psyche/] While it’s a gamble, investors the world over have always been challenged by a good bet. Even the investment site pointed out, “…even if 16 Psyche isn't the orbiting goldmine it was once thought to be, the asteroid belt has long been understood to be full of riches.” (Motley Fool)

16 Psyche might be the launching point of a new commodities race. While the “big names” in space are the obvious ones – first Russia, then the US, now China, India, as well as a HOST of other countries (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_government_space_agencies). And then we have to mention the PRIVATE companies that are getting into position to exploit the riches of the Solar System – besides SpaceX and Blue Origin, there are another half-dozen private companies who are seriously designing space vehicles to compete with the bigger companies.

The fact is that NO place on Earth was colonized for benevolent, nature-appreciation. From Indigenous cultures around the world to NYSE companies – Humans have explored a teensy bit out of curiosity; nut our main reason for exploration is to USE IT; to make a profit; to GET SOMETHING FOR OURSELVES.

Space won’t be any different. While most people would like to see a society like the one in STAR TREK grow, STAR WARS is most likely to be the true end result. Even STAR TREK has to create baddies to drive their shows and movies. STAR WARS just did away with any pretense and went straight to the thing that drives Human society: war.

So, as to the coming space war – and don’t try to convince yourself otherwise, there will be one! It might just be starting sooner than you think though. There IS wealth in space. Some of the estimates are jaw-droppingly amazing. Even the starriest-eyed kiddo knows however, that SPACE WILL BE DANGEROUS! People from Earth have died in space – and more will follow.

America’s initial launch to “study 16 Psyche” isn’t to just “look at it”; it’s to check on the feasibility of MINING THE ASTEROIDS; in particular, this ultra-dense object that will take a specially designed spacecraft SIX YEARS TO REACH. The thing cost over 2.2 BILLION DOLLARS. Since when have Humans EVER spent that much money just to “see something”? At the most base level, there is at LEAST a small amount of greed driving this mission.

And where you have greed – you have conflict. How will that conflict manifest? Missiles to blow probes out of the sky? Nah. Then the country that did the shooting would have to build their own vulnerable ship…

What about HACKING? Maybe that’s why Russia hasn’t sent their own probes out – they’re well-known as a nation of hackers! There’s even a quote in a highly authoritative movie that states, “Are all hackers Russian?” “Honey, there aren’t any Russians who aren’t hackers.” (Oceans 8) All they need to do is hack into NASA or any other space exploration country’s ship; or into any of the private space outfits – and they could just sell the information (or their silence). Why waste money on spaceships that keep blowing up?

My main points are:

Gigantic amounts of money are being spent and invested.
Prestige will land on anyone able to successfully do ANYTHING in space.
Humans are competitive.
As soon as you add all of that together, you get the possibility of CONFLICT.

There WILL be a space war – not just like the “race to space” but a shooting war. People will die – not by accident, but by intent.

Does it seem like a dark vision of the future? Yeah, well as much as I’d LOVE for it not to happen, my “faith in Humanity” has experienced a massive amount of erosion as I’ve gotten older…

U.S. Sun News: https://www.the-sun.com/tech/4736656/us-china-space-war-mining-asteroids-superpowers/
Fundamental Resource: (A general Wikipedia post detailing what the authors currently know about asteroid mining: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asteroid_mining)
Noted Resources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_asteroid_close_approaches_to_Earth, https://www.pharostribune.com/news/local_news/article_7fcd3ea5-3c14-533f-a8d5-9bf629922f34.html, https://www.fool.com/investing/2022/04/29/like-asteroid-mining-be-careful-what-you-wish-for/ https://www.nps.gov/wrbr/learn/historyculture/theroadtothefirstflight.htm, https://hackaday.com/2019/03/27/extraterrestrial-excavation-digging-holes-on-other-worlds/, https://www.planetary.org/space-missions/every-small-worlds-mission
Image: https://everydayastronaut.com/wp-content/uploads/Post-Launch-Reviews/CNSA/Long-March-2C_Xinhua-1200x800.jpeg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 612

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: Fantastic Noir (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FantasticNoir)
Current Event: (not-so-much-this-time) http://narnia.wikia.com/wiki/Mole

In a hole in the ground, in the lawn of a museum given over to the collection of scientific inventions both weird and wonderful, there lived a mole.

This wouldn't have been terribly surprising except that the museum was in Narnia and the mole was really a Mole named Loamy Trowel. She lived in a very comfortable hole with shuttered windows that overlooked an antique cotton gin as well as a rocket preserved from the brief but exciting Narnian Space Age.

Loamy would have loved to close her windows day and night. Daylight made her squint in a way her nephews and nieces thought was comical. Like most Moles, she felt that if she must be out and about, it should be at night. For this reason, she'd taken up a small hobby. She looked for things that daylight people had lost in darkness.

Her first job had been to find a sack of coins Fennerish the Faun had lost. Loamy had found it quite easily and felt her nose blush red at the acclaim accorded her for a bit of simple night-time looking.

The next time, Tincture the Skunk was certain the family of Chitteringfools, the Squirrels had made off with an ancient family heirloom reputed to possess magical powers. It turned out that the moth-eaten pelt had been sold at rummage by the youngest Skunk family member; and that the only magic it had was the ability to make virtually anyone sneeze because of the dust.

Her fame spread and soon she was doing far more mystery solving than gardening. Her services had grown to be in such demand that she'd recruited four other Moles, five Squirrels, a Raccoon, and a very young Centaur. The Mole Agency as it had come to be called, was busy all the time. Word spread from one shore to the other of Narnia, and Loamy was certain that would finally be the end of it, until one night there was a knock on her door.

Having grown used to such visits, she opened the door and for the first time in many years, stood with her mouth open in total surprise. Standing on her doorstep was a girl, her head carefully wrapped in the turban favored by the people of Calormen. She dipped in a curtsy and only then did Loamy see the circlet of gold atop the wrapping of fine cloth. The young woman said, "If you please, Madam Trowel, my name is Lucy Pevensie Caspiansbinti the Fourth, and I would like to hire you to solve a deep mystery..."

Names: ♀ Moleish; ♀ English Image: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/71/e5/9871e52bbc09c525af21b8f6471eab15.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: CAPTAIN YESHUA OF THE STARSHIP WHATEVER AND THE ULTIMATE PERFECTIBILITY OF HUMANITY (IF POSSIBLE)

On October 7, 2007, I started this blog. Sixteen years later, I am revising and doing some different things with my blog. My wife and I are now retired senior citizens, our kids are both married, we have a bonus daughter and her wife and we have three grandchildren, the oldest of which just became a teenager. I have forty-five professional publications, plus countless other publications as a slushpile reader, and sometime essay contributor to Stupefying Stories https://stupefyingstories.blogspot.com/.

These days, I write whenever I want to – or when I’m not busy exploring the world with my wife or kids or grandkids. I write, read constantly. Then I discovered that I was writing longer and longer pieces. My new focus is to write shorter; and to write HUMOR. On purpose. Maybe I can still irritate people while being funny. We’ll see what happens.

“Roddenberry’s Star Trek gave us the United Federation of Planets, a meta-government that spanned human space. He envisioned humanity as ultimately perfectible. While perfection remained out of reach, the notion that it was even achievable seems, perhaps, hopelessly naïve and idealistic.” (http://sci-fi.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Star_Trek_-_Gene_Roddenberry)

Naïve it may be, but even today, the Second Gospel of Science Fiction is predicated on the firm belief that Humanity will be able to create a general society that is peaceful, poverty-free and refuses to embrace divisive religion. This Gospel wants nothing to do with God. It assumes that Humanity’s baser instincts are essentially tamable and that with basic research, technological development, philosophy, sociology and psychology as our tools, we will be able to create ourselves as a “new humanity”.

The Humanist Manifesto has been around for decades, and is a series of documents signed by tens of thousands of people who have set out to do just this. (http://www.americanhumanist.org/3/HumandItsAspirations.htm). Isaac Asimov was a signatory of the Manifesto II and his works clearly proclaim the idea that we can perfect ourselves and need no outside help – especially supernatural outside help. Others who have the same beliefs use their fiction (first and foremost) to entertain, but certainly somewhere down the list of “why did I write this story?” they harbor a desire to promote their belief in the ultimate perfectibility of Humanity. Of writers, John Steinbeck said, during his Nobel Prize ceremony, "I hold that a writer who does not passionately believe in the perfectibility of man, has no dedication nor any membership in literature."

My contention is that Humanity is NOT perfectible. The Bible notes this – some of the observations are made by verifiable historical figures whose wisdom has been passed down through the ages: “…the hearts of the sons of men are full of evil, and insanity is in their hearts throughout their lives.” (Ecclesiastes 9:3) and “They are corrupt and have committed abominable injustice. There is no one who does good…every one of them has turned aside; together they have become corrupt; there is no one who does good, not even one.” (Psalm 52: 1-3) are both examples of simple observation.

Some might contend that Humanity is no longer the same organism David observed 4000 years ago. A quick scan of BBC.com; a talk with a retired person or an inner city classroom teacher or an organic dairy farmer in rural Wisconsin will present anecdotal evidence that “things haven’t gotten better since (FILL IN THE BLANK WITH A YEAR), they’ve gotten worse!”

They aren’t going to get any better as long as we leave ourselves in charge of the renovation. We cannot manifest our way out of a technologically more advanced slide into deeper and deeper sin. Satan will continue to take marvelous inventions and through his Human agents, pervert them to something ugly. Any Democrat will be happy to relate to you the horrors of the war in Iraq; any Republican will be happy to relate to you the horrors of Vietnam. Some atheists might point out that 9,000,000 Muslims and Jews were slaughtered during the Crusades and 300,000 during the Spanish Inquisition in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth; some Christians might point out the supposed 61,911,000 in the old Soviet Union or the alleged 35,236,000 in China who were murdered in the name of communism by atheist regimes.

The manifesting has not gone well thus far.

We ain’t getting’ better, folks. Putting Yeshua (or a Perfected Human) on the bridge of the Enterprise won’t solve our problems either. We simply can’t “get better”. We aren’t “ultimately perfectible” – not on our own or through gengineering. Only when we surrender our broken spirits to Jesus – not the Christ of the Crusaders or the Republicans – but to the Messiah of this world can we become perfect IN Him.

I’m reasonably sure that this post will irritate some of you…but this all the room I have today…

(First posted on December 25, 2007, updated 10/21/23)
Image: AVvXsEhcSwyLMTd2jFYJ9zcgXMligxrtJyWUH6X6dWa1ZG-iuqUYEuzu5qqr-zvCygqEFKDq9NvlHaQjO-ioa_I_yp-Xq8wy1YJOkDTsGGnqc0ltPjLQv7CGVUjPBryeHR2hTuByLlplCfInKi8KCH-ulgRS-63KEZ6Q8TKzhb_exugEzrVceVTjKNqLUFXdPc0 (1017×678) (googleusercontent.com)

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 611

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. Octavia Butler said, “SF doesn’t really mean anything at all, except that if you use science, you should use it correctly, and if you use your imagination to extend it beyond what we already know, you should do that intelligently.”

SF/F/H Trope: “The Space Whale Aesop suggests a real, viable course of action ("don't perform nuclear tests") by presenting fantastic consequences ("radiation from the tests will awaken a giant monster that destroys Tokyo") instead of a more realistic but not quite as dramatic example ("it can burn whole buildings if someone is careless"). Overlaps with Gaia's Vengeance if the intended message is an environmental one, which it often is.”

Current Event: Earth Day (2023) Praskeui Russo pursed her lips and said, “Everyone’s positive this is a safe test?” She wasn’t one of the science staff overseeing the test of a fast reentry vehicle. In fact, she wasn’t even out of high school yet, but after she won second place in a contest that was supposed to provide a near-instantaneous evacuation of Space Station Courage.

Mychajlo Dąbrowski shook his head and said, “They wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t safe.” It was his project they were testing. His was the First Place Winner. Not that this was exactly what he’d proposed. His idea had been to keep bunch reentry pods made of waste-metal, melted and inflated with pressurized waste CO2. The rapid expansion of the gas would have cooled it, cooling the bubble. Cutting a doorway, outfitting it a rebreathing mechanism, then coating all of them with melt from the asteroid smelter orbiting a bit higher that SS Courage. They could be tethered anywhere, everywhere.

Para shook her head, “Lots of scientists thought fission was a safe idea.”

Mych grunted. The contest was supposed be an innovative solution that would prevent an incident like the Sindikat Rossiyskikh Soyuznikov Space Station Muzhestvo – which had been badly holed and there hadn’t been enough life pods to save more than a hundred of the five hundred people who lived there. “No argument from me.”

Para looked at him, surprised. “You agree with me?”

Mych shook his head and hissed. “They’re launching.”

She scowled, but turned her full attention to the viewscreens. Instead of waste-metal bubbles, the Combined Forces part of the station had taken Mych’s idea and left out the rebreathers – those could be snatched while evacuating – and replaced them with variable explosives. Now called Situational Design ReEntry Shrapnel – SiDeReES or Sidereez – the things were being live tested today.

The first cluster of what looked like a large bunch of silver grapes was drifting out of orbit, headed down to Earth. They disappeared from sight. The window shivered and a sensor image replaced it. The capsules had started to glow red. Even as they did, the alarms in the space station suddenly began to shrill and wall panels began to glow red, fade, then glow red again. Station Command came over the public address, saying, “All crew please report to emergency stations. All others report to your emergency gathering points. This is not a drill.” The voice went on to repeat. Para looked at Mych and said, “What do you think’s happening?”

Mych’s eyes bugged wide. She turned to look at the screen. He said, “The planet – something’s happening.”

First a hole appeared to open abruptly in the surface of the Pacific Ocean. Then it widened into a gap, for all the world like a mouth opening. Where the nose would have been on a face, were the Hawaiian Islands. They were fiery pustules in the ocean that spread to engulf the entire chain, spewing lava into the water that boiled into steam. The Sidereez fell toward the mouth. For whatever reason, water was no longer pouring into the mouth-like crevasse. Simultaneously, it appeared that volcanoes had erupted in northern Mexico and on the Russian Syndicated Federation’s side of the Bering Strait.

Para blinked and whispered, “It looks like a face...” Space Station Courage shivered.

The voice said, “All personnel report to evacuation pods immediately. All personnel report…”

That voice cut off and another took its place, low, resonant, but definitely female. It was just definitely not Human and spoke words that neither teen had ever heard before. Mych said, “She’s speaking Russian.”

“Not Russian, Greek,” Para said. They looked at each other, then grabbed hands and ran to an evac pod, a few dozen meters from where they’d been watching. The station shivered, loud groans echoing down hallways whose pressure doors could no longer shut because the frames were no longer true.

The voice of the planet sounded, no matter what language they heard, like an immense Humpback Whale singing as it said, “Enough is enough...”

Names: ♀ Greece, Italy; ♂ Ukraine, Poland Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e1/Falcon_9_Demo-2_Launching_6_%283%29.jpg/220px-Falcon_9_Demo-2_Launching_6_%283%29.jpg

IDEA ON TUESDAY 610

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 horror, I found this insight in line with WIRED FOR STORY: “ We seek out…stories which give us a place to put our fears…Stories that frighten us or unsettle us - not just horror stories, but ones that make us uncomfortable or that strike a chord somewhere deep inside - give us the means to explore the things that scare us…” – Lou Morgan (The Guardian)

H Trope: personally experiencing the death of a _____________
Current Event: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/popular-culture-meets-psychology/201209/near-death-experience

“How do you know how other people experience death?” asked Mr. Folgers, the senior psych teacher.

Carl Haven leaned over to his best friend, Clarke Halverson and whispered, “How do you know when a teacher has gone over the edge?”

“Mr. Haven? The Other Mr. Haven? If you have something to share, let the whole class experience your wisdom.” Mr. Folgers snarled, then spun away from the class back to his Powerpoint presentation.

Clarke glared at the teacher’s back then turned his glare on Carl. A moment later he curled over his notebook and started writing furiously.

Carl looked over his best friend at Se’Anna King whose seat was in the next row. Her eyes widened. He lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.

When the bell rang, Clarke was out of his seat like a shot and out of the room. Carl said to Se’Anna, “What’s wrong with...”

Mr. Folgers walked up to him and handed him a yellow slip of paper. Carl exclaimed, “What am I getting a detention for?”

“I believe we have some catching up to do, Mr. Haven Your current grade in the class stands at an NC.”

“What? How can that be? I had a C+ last week!”

“That was before the test you and the Other Mr. Haven cheated on together. You both failed. That and your clone’s repeated missing of due dates and generally sour behavior have placed his otherwise untarnished Grade Point Average in jeopardy.”

Carl snatched the detention slip and muttered darkly under his breath as Mr. Folgers said, “I’ll see you later this week, Mr. Haven. Oh, and send your recalcitrant friend my way as well. I have a slip for him. Right after I call his parents tonight.”

Carl froze, his anger draining away and turned around. “Don’t call his dad, Mr. Folgers! Please? It’ll just make matters worse!”

The psych teacher sniffed, “A phone call in the past has brought amazing results, Mr. Haven. Now hurry to lunch or you won’t be able to have your daily infusion of Mountain Dew to maintain your sunny disposition.”

Carl glared at the teacher’s back then stomped out of the room. The door had a spring-loaded closer, so it was impossible to slam. He stopped in the lav on his way to the foyer where he’d meet his girlfriend Nyota and her passel of gfs and they’d head out to lunch together. He was washing his hands when it felt like someone kicked him in the chest.

He staggered backwards, gasping, stumbled and fell to the floor between the pair of urinals he’d just turned from. From the open lav door, he heard a scream. Then a horrible burning lanced up his leg from his foot to his thigh. He couldn’t help but scream. It felt like someone had blown his leg off!

He looked down expecting to see blood, but there was nothing. Only dirty lavatory floor. An instant later, a younger kid – probably a freshman – ran into the lav, yanking the door closed behind him. Not looking at Carl on the floor, he staggered past and went to the handicapped stall and slammed the door

On the floor was a red footprint. Carl was staring at it when another wave of searing pain shot up his arm from his hand…

Names: ♀ Ireland; ♂ German, Latin, England, Norway
Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

CREATING ALIEN ALIENS Part 32 A: Human Manners; Alien Manners

Five decades ago, I started my college career with the intent of becoming a marine biologist. I found out I had to get a BS in biology before I could even begin work on MARINE biology; especially because there WEREN'T any marine biology programs in Minnesota.

Along the way, the science fiction stories I'd been writing since I was 13 began to grow more believable. With my BS in biology and a fascination with genetics, I started to use more science in my fiction.

After reading hard SF for the past 50 years, and writing hard SF successfully for the past 20, I've started to dig deeper into what it takes to create realistic alien life forms. In the following series, I'll be sharing some of what I've learned. I've had some of those stories published, some not...I teach a class to GT young people every summer called ALIEN WORLDS. I've learned a lot preparing for that class for the past 25 years...so...I have the opportunity to share with you what I've learned thus far. Take what you can use, leave the rest. Let me know what YOU'VE learned. Without further ado...

So, once we contact/are contacted by THEM, where do we go? How do we behave? Will aliens simply believe what they see from our well-behaved diplomats or Congresspeople er…common everyday folk, scientists, ummm…who, exactly WILL represent Humanity to an alien civilization and/or alien representatives?

The United Nations…well…not exactly, as they aren't EXACTLY "united".

The wealthy? Hmmm, problematic at best, but more likely to have something to talk about with aliens, who invested LOTS OF…well, SOMETHING to travel light years to reach Earth. Wealthy Humans may feel they have more in common with aliens they know came from vast distances.

The poor? Sometimes the poor WERE wealthy! Perhaps the ideal First Communicator would be someone who once experienced wealth, then lost that wealth. People like Martha Stewart. Larry King. Dorothy Hamill. Walt Disney. All of them were wealthy (PLUS Stewart spent five months in prison), then recovered their wealth. They understand the attitude – but that also they know the feel of poverty, making them sympathetic to most of the inhabitants of Earth (“81 billionaires have more wealth than 50% of the world combined”) – for those of us mathematically inclined that’s 2 x 10 (to the) -9 % of the world’s population is richer than 4,000,000,000 of the rest of us.

Yet, there’s a good chance that some of those wealthiest Humans will call the shots in the event of an alien landing. Certainly some will argue that they are more QUALIFIED to speak with aliens...so we need to be prepared to deal with them and actually CHOOSE people who would be qualified and not just the "right party" (would aliens even UNDERSTAND something like a "political party"???).

I’d be hesitant to put soldiers in charge of talking to aliens as well – and I’m the father of an Army Staff Sergeant, and have known fine, upstanding soldiers of ranks all the way up to Major -- but I'd still be hesitant to put a soldier as the sole contact to aliens. But, being in the military carries with it a very clear mindset that may or may not be important when welcoming (or confronting) aliens who have landed on Earth.

I suppose a TEAM would be best, but then that smacks of manners and protocol, doesn’t it? Can we make an assumption that aliens would have the same or similar manners and protocol as we would -- or even that they are more "mono-thought" than we are?

It seems to me that we COULD assume that.

The aliens coming to Earth have invested an immense amount of whatever passes for “cash” on their world – or however they coerced someone on their world to foot the bill to construct or grow a ship capable of traveling across tens to millions of light-years AND to deliver people of alien origin WHO ARE STILL ALIVE after crossing those distances.

The first question our former-millionaire-poverty-stricken-again-millionaire first contact group will be, naturally, “Why are you here?”

The assumption is that we would understand any answer the aliens would give. We would be expecting (the ONLY ANSWER WE COULD POSSIBLY EXPECT is "We've come to take over everything and vaporize all of you.") an answer we could understand – and yet, can we MAKE such an assumption? 

Think about it: the first white person landing on any shore of the Americas is confronted by someone who already lives there. (It seems to me that the first question European “explorers” asked, was “What are YOU doing here?” then they proceeded to be enraged that someone else claimed to have been there FIRST and weren’t interested in giving up their homeland…but I digress.) 

An alien standing in front of our Greeters SHOULD face a small group of the MOST diverse individuals we can assemble. They should NOT be from the area of the landing (though least ONE should be a true local, I suppose as the aliens chose to land THERE) rather they should have one person from each SUB-Continent, though NOT from each country. That would be a somewhat overwhelming number of Humans – if it happened today, that would be 195 people.

Unless the Aliens brought that many with them (which means, if the brought 195, that they understand the significance of the nation-states of Earth and are willing to deal with us that way) it seems reasonable that we might (instead of bringing up the RICHEST countries) bring a pair of people from each of the most POPULOUS countries – one rich person, one poor person.

These individuals would have to be trained as well as we can train them. IF the aliens adhere to manners we can understand, they will send us a dictionary with a common language everyone could speak; preparing us for that contact – rather than like the movie “Arrival” where linguists had to figure out the language of the Heptapods and put it all together just moments before an all-out planetary war erupted... 

This would reduce the number of Humans greeting the aliens to some sixty. These individuals would then be able to represent nations with populations ranging from 1.5 billion to .05 billion, and speak with some authority – but NOT BE FROM ANY RULING GROUP WHETHER DICTATORSHIP OR REPRESENTATIVE DEMOCRACY. They need to be regular people; because it's regular people who will be most profoundly affected by an alien visitation.

All right, that’s all I can think of for now, but rest assured – I’m not done yet! I’m sure as I ponder this, I’ll think of more things that we might need to make a first contact with an alien civilizations.

Sources: https://www.wisebread.com/12-lessons-in-manners-from-around-the-world ; https://www.sciencealert.com/these-7-rules-form-a-universal-moral-code-shared-by-every-culture-study-finds ; https://bss.au.dk/en/cognition-and-behavior-lab/for-participants/examples-of-studies-in-cobe-lab/what-aliens-can-tell-us-about-politeness ; https://www.entrepreneur.com/leadership/9-multimillionaires-who-lost-it-all-but-came-back/335042 ; https://www.globalcitizen.org/en/content/wealth-inequality-oxfam-billionaires-elon-musk/#:~:text=The%20richest%201%25%20own%20almost%20half%20of%20the%20world's%20wealth,99%25%20of%20the%20world's%20population. ; https://www.nationsonline.org/oneworld/states.htm#:~:text=List%20of%20all%20Sovereign%20Nations,including%20de%20facto%20independent%20Taiwan Image: https://image.shutterstock.com/image-illustration/alien-human-600w-136457129.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 609

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: Heroic Fantasy (Conan The Barbarian)
Current Event: http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-in-school/fantasy-fighting-takes-modernday-gladiators-back-in-time/article6178357.ece

Sukhjeev Hegde adjusted her brass brassiere and said, “Do you know why they make us wear these things?”

Shrugging, Vrishab Brahmbatt pulled up steel supporter and said, “Same reason I gotta wear this thing.”

“And that is…” she hefted the broadsword, swung it – and nearly chopped Vrish’s head off.

“Would you watch out with that thing!” he cried, then added, “It’s verisimilitude.”

“How can dressing this way be ‘an appearance or semblance of truth’ if it’s all fake anyway? We act like it’s true...”

“Why? So it will become truth? That’s the most fantastic thing you’ve said on this entire date!”

He pursed his lips, then said sullenly, “It’s not a date.”

“Sure it is!” Sukhjee said. “You asked me to come with you on this adventure thing and I said yes, if we can have a good cup of coffee afterwards.” She glared at him and added, “You’re not thinking of reneging on the coffee, are you?”

“No, we’ll still do the coffee, it’s just that I forgot to tell you something about this simulation.” The ground trembled suddenly and the rest of their mutuality turned to the castle gate as it wound down on heavy chains. The computer-generated images – Sukhjee had called them barely adequate shimmered and seemed to take on the weight of reality.

Without looking at Vrish, she said, “You forgot to tell me that at some magical command or when the Moon is in the Seventh House and Jupiter aligns with Mars that peace won’t be guiding the planets – those gigantic monster sheep with glow-in-the-dark scarlet eyes will?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“So, do we run or fight?” she asked.

What he assumed were the ‘real’ people had dropped their weapons and were running away from the sheepsters. “It’s a first date, I’m open to whatever you’d like to do.”

Sukhjee tossed her sword from one hand to the other, almost dropped it then grinned at Vrish then said, “Let’s go fight us some sheepsters, sweetie!” Along with the once-simulated army, she charged the creature who’d been joined by four others.

“Don’t call me ‘sweetie’,” Vrish said as he charged after his date.

Names: ♀ Sikh, India ; ♂ Hindu, India

Image: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/71/e5/9871e52bbc09c525af21b8f6471eab15.jpg