IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 681

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 Trope: Effects of super fast cellular regeneration…
Current Event: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/38915707/ “…As this lysosome-independent cell cleansing process does not seem to have been priorly described, we termed it "cathartocytosis." Cathartocytosis allows a cell to rapidly eject excess material without waiting for autophagic and lysosomal digestion, providing for efficient cellular downscaling.” Add IRON MAN 3: “Extremis is an advanced form of genetic manipulation…granting the human body the ability to heal and regenerate from physical damages, deformities and even psychological damages. This also includes the regrowth of severed limbs in a very short timespan” this “hyper-healing also generates intense heat that, if a patient is unable to control it, leads to “an exothermic ability”.

“The big question, is what are you going to change?” said Erjan. Shaking his head, he added, “You’re practically perfect in every way.”

Slava snorted. “You make me sound like a Marion Poppins. I don’t want to change just to change. I want to change so I’m a better person.”

Erjan rolled his eyes. “Then do it like normal people do! Commit good works; save babies; contribute some of your inheritance to a cause you really believe in!”

Slava shook his head, “That’s boring! No one’s gonna notice me for doing something so boring!”

Erjan stopped walking. Slava was ten meters past him when he stopped suddenly, looked around, then spotted Erjan. He walked back. “You’re not even breathing hard! That was a great sprint!”

“I didn’t backtrack. I stopped and it took you almost two minutes to notice that you were walking with no one and talking to the air.”

“You did not!” Erjan crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping his foot. A look of pure rage flashed over Slava’s face. He clenched his fists, bending his arms at the elbows as his skin flushed – truly spectacular under his carefully coiffed head of blonde hair. “You’re…” He shut his mouth, noticing that he was attracting a crowd. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, holding his breath and counting backwards to fifty. He let his breath out slowly, then said, “I’m an idiot, aren’t I. Worthless…”

Slava put his hand over Erjan’s mouth. “You’re neither an idiot nor worthless. You’ve just had the universe orbiting around since you were conceived…”

“You forgot to note that THAT happy event happened in a test tube.”

Slava took his hand away. “So you’ve told me. And yet here I stand, talking to you as if you were a normal Human and my friend.”

Erjan shoved his hands in his pockets, turned and slumped away. Slava knew better than to chase him. His friend’s doctor had texted him just before Slava had come out of the hospital. It had been a simple message, “If he gets truly angry or incredibly happy, weird things are going to happen to his physiology. Document and encourage meditative calm.”

Slava had texted back, “What happens if I can’t?”

It took several days for his friend’s MOTHER – whom he never met because she lived on Mars – had replied. “After fervent discussion, the consensus of doctors and researchers is: ‘No idea. Just keep him calm.’” Slava sighed and followed Erjan and called out, “Let’s go to MacDonalds. Shakes. My treat!”

Erjan stopped, turned, scowling, and shouted, “How dare you!” His skin flushed and after another moment, he started to glow…
Names: ♀ Khazak ; ♀Ukrainian
Sideways Idea Links: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ergotism; rye; IRON MAN 3 https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Extremis

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 680

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: 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://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 679

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: “wǔxiá (武侠 — literally ‘martial-arts chivalry; or ‘martial arts heroes’, and pronounced roughly woo-seeah in Mandarin) stories are tall tales of honorable warriors (侠 xiá) fighting against evil, whether it be an individual villain, or a corrupt government.”
Current Event: http://achhikhabre.com/mehul-vora-martial-art-instructor-tsi-india/

Rishika Memon said, “Hang on just a second! I’ve never worn a sari before!”

Akshay Vora, her “partner in crime”, said, “Like I’ve ever worn a sherwani? Are there any buttons?”

Rishika sighed and finished wrapping the lime green garment over her shoulder and said, “It’s not the thing itself, it’s the intent.”

“You mean I’m doing all of this...”

“It’s worth it. We’re going to be fighting, not walking a runway,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“Great. I’m not. I don’t even think I can make my moves in this thing.”

Rishika shook her head. “There won’t be any moves to make.”

Akshay stared at her, “What do you mean, we’re here to fight, aren’t we?”

“Sort of,” she said, holding up her hand as he opened his mouth to talk. He scowled fiercely instead. She swallowed hard. “We’re here to fight – but not with our hands. We’re here to fight with our words.”

“Our words,” Akshay said.

“Don’t give me any of your attitude! Swords and karate chops don’t always stop wars!”

He shook his head, “China chops don’t do anything but give me gas.”

She sniffed and stepped forward to the heavy oaken door. “We’re in this together. There’s a corrupt government out there that we have to overthrow!”

“Did you ever stop and think that we’re the corrupt government we’re trying to overthrow, my oldest friend?”

Rishika paused and looked over her should at him. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“It all depends on how you look at it!”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, turning around.

“Being that we’re royalty, we’re the government.”

“But neither one of us will ever inherit an actual…like…throne. Your oldest brother and my little sister will be the King and Queen. We aren’t actually the government.”

Akshay looked at him then said, “We could be walking into a slaughter, you know. Us included. There’s only one way to stop this whole thing and that’s if we fight them.”

Rishika went to the door and made a motion over the elaborate carvings, standing with his hands flat over the door, not touching it. He said, “There’s a crowd over there and they’re ugly.”

“Must be your side of the family,” Akshay said.

She scowled, “It’s an angry crowd, Akshay. They’re mad at us...”

“They aren’t mad at us personally, they’re mad at the institution. That’s what we’re here to change.”

“We still haven’t answered the question of how.”

Rishika took a deep breath, held it, then said softly, “We change it by becoming heroes of the people.”

Akshay shook his head and said, “Sounds pretty socialist of you,” he stopped her retort with his hand, “But I agree. We become heroes of the people – sort of like the heroes of the Cultural Revolution. Rénmín Yīngxióng.”

“Exactly.” She pushed the doors open on the square as lightning split the sky...

Names: ♀ India; ♂ India

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 678

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: Aesoptinium ((http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Aesoptinum)
Event:
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/mindreading-rodents-scientists-show-telepathic-rats-can-communicate-using-braintobrain-8515259.html

Sophie Sperl stared at the researcher and pursed her lips. "How is this legal?"

The technician who was hooking up the wires that led into the helmet shrugged. "You're like fourteen?" Sophie nodded slowly. He continued, "And you're in a maximum security prison, so I figure you probably committed some really bad crime, so you have no, like, rights or anything." Sophie growled and squirmed. The tech looked at her and said, "I should let you know that the room is completely monitored and I'm armed with a taser, and whoever's watching can send sleep gas into here in a second." He worked for a while then said, "What'd you do?"

Sophie snorted. "I killed someone."

"Duh," said the tech.

Sophie looked at him and said, "What's your name, handsome?" She squirmed in the chair until the straps pressed up under her breasts.

"Arnava Boqpool, and I'm gay."

Sophie looked disappointed and squirmed until she was comfortable again.

"Sorry, kiddo."

"You're the same age as me! I'm as much of a kiddo as you are!"

He shrugged, finished the contacts in the helmet and said, "Yeah, but I'm a genius."

"I am, too."

"You're a genius at murder. I'm a genius at being a sponge."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He picked up the helmet and tried to place it on her head. She snapped her head back and forth until he stopped and said, "You can be conscious for this or I can tase you out cold." He shrugged. "Up to you."

She stopped struggling and let him put the helmet on her head. He snugged a strap under her chin and said, "There. This shouldn't take too long. They say your brain is no match for mine."

He sat down across from her and lifted an aluminum bad bristling with wires and spikes and placed it on his head.

"What, you're a refugee from GAME OF THRONES?"

"Nope." He leaned to one side and said, "When I turn on the interface, we'll meet mind to mind. You'll try and kill me and I'll absorb you like so much spilled Koolaid." He flipped the switch.

Names: ♀ India ; ♂, Germany

Resource: “Robert Sawyer…Neanderthal Parallax…plans sent by aliens…lets people read each other’s minds...strongly implied that this will lead to utopia.” 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 677

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: "And I Must Scream" (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AndIMustScream
Event: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/my-life-aspergers/201405/serial-killers-autism-and-mass-murder-once-again

Krzysztof Oja blinked and slowly shook his head.

Eden Ochion thought he looked like a shaggy orangutan. A scary one. "There's no way you can tell me what you're thinking?" she tried again. Krzy -- whose unfortunate name lent itself to being abbreviated to "Crazy" -- squeezed his eyes shut harder. "You have to tell me what's going on in that shaggy head of yours!" She said, reaching forward and rapping on his skull. Why couldn't she get through to him? No one had ever been able to resist her charms. People ALWAYS told her their secrets. It's why she was the most popular person at Barack Obama High School. If people made her mad, she could always spill those secrets. "Don't you have any secrets, Krzysztof?"

He stared at her, took a deep breath, opened his mouth as if he was going to say something and then closed it again. It wasn't like he was going to stand up and leave, Eden thought. She'd actually, physically glued him to his chair. She'd set it up so that the chair was the only open one in the library. That was because she'd coaxed, coerced, and blackmailed everyone into leaving it alone just so that Krzysztof would sit there. What was weird was that he hadn't reacted at all. She knew -- somehow that she wasn't sure of -- that he realized he was sitting on several mounds of hardening crazy glue. She smiled at the interior joke. "Crazy glue for a crazy boy," she muttered. She fixed him with one of her brilliant smiles and said, "Anything you want to tell me?"

She was wondering why he hadn't said anything about the glue when he looked up at her. The intensity of his gaze was startling after the way he'd always let her looks slide off him. She'd been trying to catch his eye since he got to school on the first day. It rarely took her more than a week to break a new person down enough to find a secret tidbit or two. Even the principal, one of the wiliest old ladies Eden had ever met, buckled after a two week onslaught of kindness and interest. In her heart of hearts, Eden called BO High a garden of earthly preflight...because once she knew what she knew, most people were ready to take off. Or do her bidding.

Everyone but little Krzysztof here. That was why she'd made him her special project for the past month. After the challenge of Ms. Zarinche the Principal, she thought he'd go down into a blathering heap as soon as she unleashed her feminine wiles. Now she had to face the possibility that he was gay and she'd have to have one of her coworkers do the attraction and extraction. She smiled into Krzysztof's baby blues. She studied them, looking deep. There was something unexpected in there; a deep, dark secret. Her smile spread from ear to ear. Here it was at last! "So, saxy boy, you got something you want to tell Mama Eden?"

His gaze didn't shift, except that it felt deeper, as if it were pulling her forward. She wanted to turn away because she'd always thought there was something to the idea that the windows were the eyes into a person's soul. She couldn't. He still didn't smile. In fact, his face had gone weirdly slack, as if he were concentrating hard. She tried to blink, but couldn't. She tried to take a deep breath, to sigh or whistle or something, but couldn't. Strangely, her breathing was slowing down despite the fact that she was starting to panic. This was incredibly weird...

Names: ♀ Hebrew, ; ♂ Czech

Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 676

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 675

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 Trope: complex planetary ecology
Current Event (2012): “large-scale carbon capture and sequestration projects” (http://cleantechnica.com/2014/01/20/gore-rejects-geoengineering-climate-change-panacea/), http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2012/jul/18/iron-sea-carbon; (There is currently VERY little discussion regarding this concept...)

Logan Andrist frowned and said, “What do you mean they’re going to dump iron into the lake?”

Nkokoyanga Pomodimo, far from her land-locked home in the Central African Republic held tight to the railing of the re-purposed iron ore freighter – a laker – as it dipped down into the swells of Lake Superior. She said, speaking loudly over the rushing wind around them, “The iron will cause algae to grow wildly. As they grow they need more carbon dioxide. As they suck up the CO2, they store the resulting carbon-rich sugars and then keep it when they die and sink to the bottom of Superior...”

“I know what carbon sequestering is! I’m a limnology major...”

She shook her head in the wild winds and shouted, “This is glorious! Feeling Gaia beneath your feet is the most...”

“Wouldn’t that technically be Poseidon? Besides, who gave them permission to do this?”

She turned to catch his gaze and he recognized her crazy, angry look as she cried back, “Who gave all you rich white colonialists the right to pollute and rape our world?”

He didn’t want to shout. What he really wanted to do was kiss her right then and there in the cold spray from the Lake – but he didn’t want a broken face, so he shouted, “I didn’t do any of that! Why are you yelling at me?”

“I’m not yelling at you,” she shouted. “I’m yelling TO you!”

“What’s that,” the nose of the laker dove deep, nearly flooding the deck and driving a mountain of spray over them. The water was frigid despite the hot August sun burning down on them through breaks in the scudding clouds. He wiped his face clear of water and finished, “Supposed to mean?”

“You’re not to blame, old friend, but you are responsible! That’s why the captain of this tub is an old white man!”

“Professor Buddlorem’s driving the ship? We have to go save all of our lives!” Logan let go of the railing; Nkokoyanga grabbed him and pulled him tight.

“The computer is doing most of the driving! He’s just playing captain!”

Logan eyed her warily the said, “How are we supposed to get all this iron into Lake Superior?”

‘Ko’ grinned and shouted, “Now that’s the tricky part!”

Names: ♀ Central African Republic, Gbaya; ♂ Minnesota, Minnesota
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 674

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: ghosts
Current Event: http://www.dreadcentral.com/news/31105/cold-spots-glensheen-mansion

My daughter and I were talking about camping today. A few days ago, I had scribbled a question a few days ago: “Are there English-type mansions in Minnesota?”

I mentioned that we might someday head north through the city of Duluth because I had frequently passed the Glensheen Mansion on Lake Superior and I related to her its grisly past – which had happened the year I graduated from Golden Valley Lutheran College (1977). I remember the hoopla and the delicious chill it sent down our backs whenever we talked about it.

But what if me and a couple of friends headed north and to Duluth a few days after the news of the double murder – pillow suffocation and a bludgeoning with (shades of CLUE!) a candlestick. Of course, because the place is swarming with police and detectives (zillions of dollars in inheritance is now up for grabs by relatives – and of COURSE there’s a will, handwritten, from three days before the murders!)

Yeah!

This is a prime setting for ghosts peering, lost from the window.

But what if the ghosts of Elisabeth Congdon and her nurse Velma Pietila turned up on the campus of the University of Minnesota, Duluth where me and my friends are staying, sleeping on the floor of some summer school friends?

And what if we were laying in the dark, gazing up at the stars on the Griggs Football Field late at night and suddenly a ghost hovers over the field, reaching out to us as the air around chills. I can see my breath and a voice before us breathes lightly, “It’s not who they think, son. Not who they think.”

A second ghost appears, this one an older woman, though not as young as Elisabeth – and she’s obviously been murdered, her head bashed in; blood still stains her face and dress. She raises one hand, palm to you and softly hisses, “Stop them. Stop them.” The ghosts dance around you in a tighter and tighter circle then disappear…

Just to add an extra twist, my father relates that HIS father was a grounds worker at one of the mansions in Duluth, Minnesota’s beautiful Skyline Parkway, a scenic drive that offers stunning views of Lake Superior, the harbor, and the city skyline. Along this parkway, you'll find impressive homes and mansions. The Glensheen Mansion at 3300 London Rd is likely the most famous historic home in Duluth. Built by Chester and Clara Congdon, it's a 39-room estate with original furnishings and extensive grounds, open for tours…and is home to the grisly murder and haunting above.

Not only was my grandfather a grounds worker, he married a woman less-than-half his age of 40 years who worked in Glensheen. In fact, as I read this, I discovered that the name of the nurse, Velma Pietila? Had the same last name as my MOTHER’S mother…

Coincidence? I think not. Make of it what you will, you’d hardly be the first!

Names: ♀ Obviously, I share my GRANDFATHER’S name…; ♂ Norwegian (Nurse)
Image: https://i.pinimg.com/474x/24/fe/fd/24fefdefb1711b8a5f4a940b87cff1d7.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 673

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 672

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 Trope: "It occurs to me that robot stories about naturally-occurring robots present an untapped sci-fi resource in terms of commenting on what constitutes life, or a meditation on the machine like nature of biological man, etc."
Current Event: http://www.fromquarkstoquasars.com/scientists-create-life-like-cells-out-of-metal/

Ebony Jones pursed her lips, tweaking the landing jets of the surface ship. “I don’t like how it looks down there.”

Marquis Deonte ran another scan, tapping one of the readouts as he said, “It’s mechanical life, sure. Maybe the first time we’ve ever run across it naturally...”

“There’s nothing ‘natural’ about ‘mechanical life’. It’s an oxymoron,” she almost added “Like you...”, but decided against it. They’d butted heads enough times on the trip out from Earth – mostly because you could only live out virtual adventures so many times before you got bored. You could also only prep for landing on an alien world so many times before you were twitching in your sleep with the movements you’d repeated a million times.

You could only tell someone you just wanted to be friends so many times before you both started to... Marquis cut into her litany, saying, “Didn’t you come out here to find life as we DON’T know it?"

“Of course it’s what I want! Just because I question the possibility of some sort of metallic, mechanical...”

“Look! Down there!” he said, aiming the external sensors at the roiling surface.

Ebony said, “Besides, water mixed with just about any kind of salt would be corrosive to metal...”

“Our bones are metallic,” he said, his voice taking on the deadpan, lecture mode they’d fallen into after they’d first become fast friends. Since about ten months into the flight to HD 196944, a star rich in heavy metals when they’d stopped being best friends and become the banes of their separate existences.

“True, that. But...”

“There’s something moving under the surface,” said Marquis.

“I don’t see anything...”

“It’s not visible in our part of the spectrum. Change the frequency reception of your scanner. I’m getting lots of movement in the UV band. Also IR.”

She tapped the screen, slid a spectrum bar and watched as the imaged jumped into view. There were larger shapes deeper down. Smaller ones close to the surface. They were angular rather than rounded; mechanical rather than biological. “What kind of ecology would they have?” she muttered. After a moment, she said more loudly, “There’s something – cloudy – under the surface. Seems to be...” she paused, defaulted to a space-view of the lander, zoomed in then added, “The cloud is matching the shape of our shadow.”

“Huh?” Marquis said.

“Our shadow! A cloud is forming underneath us in the water.” Below them, something burbled, as if the water were boiling. A larger bubble burst beneath the surface, splashing the lander. Ebony swung the imager to the belly of the lander and cried, “The ship’s skin is boiling! I’m taking us up!” Without waiting for his confirmation, Ebony pushed the throttle to full...

Names: ♀, ♂ Top 20 Whitest and Blackest Names (http://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=2470131) Resource: http://io9.com/5628989/ten-tropes-youll-find-in-science-fiction---over-and-over-again
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 671

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: auto-cannibalism
Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self-cannibalism

Kari leaned from behind him while the movie in Forensics flickered on the screen in front of the class, whispering in his ear, “You know, if you bite your fingernails, the pieces will poke through your intestines and you’ll get a bleeding ulcer.”

“Shut up,” Mark hissed back at her.

Mr. Stanton looked up from the paper he was correcting and scowled at the two of them.

After class, Kari tapped Mark on the shoulder and said, “You’re the one who asked me to bug you about it.”

“Yeah, but…” he stopped talking as a pair of freshmen boys ran like elementary kids down the hall, cutting between him and Kari. It was a good thing, Mark decided. He’d almost told her the real reason he wanted to stop biting his nails. Or horking his snot or sucking the blood from a hangnail or any of the other instances of him eating his own flesh and blood. It started out as accidental. He’d been playing boot hockey over Christmas break and he’d been whanged in the nose and gotten a fierce nosebleed. Swallowing the blood to keep from grossing everyone out by spitting it on the ice had started something inside of him.

“‘Yeah, but’ what?” Kari asked when they pulled together again.

Mark shrugged and said, “I’ll tell you at lunch.”

Inside, he heard his Inner Voice say, “No you won’t. You won’t tell anyone about me. You just keep feeding me and when I’m big enough, I’ll come out and we’ll take over the world…”

Name Source: Local, Minnesota
Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 670

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: Shapeshifting and Animal Creation 

https://www.discoverwildlife.com/animal-facts/insects-invertebrates/biggest-spiders-in-the-world
Current Event: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/researchers-discover-a-rare-carnivorous-caterpillar-that-wears-dead-insect-parts-to-fool-spiders-180986506/

Huda crouched behind the wall of an American office building, staring at the surface. “It’s moving like bugs are crawling all over it.” She’d grown up in Gaza after the War.

Her best friend, Schlomo said, “You trying to make me run out of here screaming? You know how much I hate creepy-crawlies!”

“You sound like an American movie star.” She refused to admit that she loved the American movies when his Israeli-Administrator mother kept letting them watch.

“I do not!”

“Oh, you’re right. In American movies, the boys are brave and eat spiders for breakfast, and all the girls do is dress nice and scream when anything interesting happens.” Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to act more…feminine.”

“O. Ouch,” she deadpanned. “You’re just jealous because my clothes are nicer than yours.”

“And you’re always irritated that your future consists of an arranged marriage and the life of a scullery maid.”

She snorted, “As if!” She paused and lifted a finger. The immense spider began to glow.

Schlomo said, “It has to be slow. I can’t hold onto it if it starts to grow too fast.”

“I’ll just step on it…”

“Like you say? ‘As if’. This sucker’s going to inflate faster than a Martian Rescue Pod. I need to hold it in thrall until we get everything ready. Do it like we planned – slow and steady and we’ll have an enchanted spider big enough to climb the wall and slip through that open window.” He paused, rolled his eyes and said, “Which I have to admit, you did a nice job of getting that loud-mouthed soldier freak to do the dirty work. I heard he’s got a kill list as long as his arm,” he glanced at her. “That’s literally, by the way. He gets a tatt of each Israeli he snuffs.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome.” The spider continued to inflate until it was the size of a child. Concentrating, Schlomo made it stand up slowly, then take a step. “It looks like a spider trying to walk on its back legs!”

“It is!” he snapped. “You try making a spider look like its walking like a Human – even a little kid!” After several steps, it started walking and teetering less. “Good. You’re good at this.”

He glanced at her. The new generations of Israelis and Palestinians were tired of hearing how bad “the other side” was. With the first Apparation Spell opening a gate Humans could travel to the Red Planet. The manifesting spell that formed a breathable bubble of air ten kilometers across had held for the past Earth-year. The fact that it was too dangerous to adapt older adults into Humans who could not just survive there, but live there for good – colonizing fell to the young. They were grinning like idiots.

Huda scowled, then muttered, “What’s going on? There’s some kind of magical energy leaking into the Dome.”

“What?” Schlomo. Then he held his breath. Whispering, “I recognize the signature on that spell…”

Names: ♀ Palestinian, Huda ; ♂ Israel, Schlomo

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 669

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 Trope: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ForWantOfANail
Sparking Event: http://www.breitbart.com/video/2014/11/15/maher-if-obama-had-lost-us-wouldnt-have-fruit-or-jobs/ + A Prompt From My Niece-In-Law: wool, celery, parallel universe, dynamite, fireman’s ball, fishing tackle.

Jose Taylor-Perez shrugged his shoulders, settling his wool sweater more comfortably. “You eat that and it’ll be like someone lit a stick a dynamite and shoved it up your…”

Emily Patel-Kelly tossed the celery stick at him then punched Jose in the shoulder, “If you weren’t my best friend, that would have been hard enough to knock the humerus out of the ball park.” She snickered, “Not that anything short of a wrecking ball would be able to knock any of your face bones free of that fishing tackle in your mouth.”

“Hey! No fair! I can’t do anything about braces!” he said, shaking his head, “Besides, your premed jokes are only funny to you…added to that, you won’t even be able to BE premed until at the earliest your junior year.”

Ignoring the frustrating fact that she couldn’t start college until she could do College In The Schools, she said, “Like I can do anything about a celery allergy?” She lifted her chin, “Besides, I don’t exactly have a standard reaction to it.”

“You can say that again,” he said as he fiddled with his transparent computer tablet where it hovered over his lap. “You’re the only person I know that can use a V8 Harvest and Strawberry Smoothie as a gateway to a parallel universe.”

She shook her head, “I wish I could see into the universe where I passed this history final with flying colors.”

“That’s for sure,” said Jose. “I’ll never remember who came after President McCain.”

“Don’t be such a sexist – President Palin took over after McCain had his coronary two years after he got elected.”

“Right, the first lady...”

“No, it was the First Husband Todd…” she said, adding a smirk.

“I was gonna say, ‘President’.”

Shaking her head, Emily hunched over her own transparent tablet, setting it to project a holographic screen in front of her. Walking her fingers through a manipulation panel, she absentmindedly picked up a celery stick and shoved it into her mouth. After her eyes grew wide, she muttered, “Oh, crap...”

“What’s wrong?” Jose asked. Her tablet began to glow then flames flickered around the edges as she tried to shove the instrument away from her. “You ate the celery!” He exclaimed. “Why did you do that?”

“I wasn’t thinking! I was playing around with tensor calculus…”

“And you opened a door into a parallel universe!” Jose shouted as the fire alarms went off and a robot fireman’s ball floated out from its nook and began to sprout nozzles. “Now we’re gonna…”

An explosion cut him off…

Names: ♀ ; ♂
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 668

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: Attack of the Killer Whatever
Current Event: “In various Stephen King short stories, he has had people attacked by novelty chattering teeth, paintings, a toy monkey, evil toads... If it can be seen as even vaguely creepy by anybody in the Western world, chances are it's killed somebody in a Stephen King story.”

Liam Johnson held his Kindle, staring down at it.

Sophia Smith, sitting next to him, said, “What are you waiting for?”

The roar of voices in the lunch room was almost deafening. He didn’t hear her – or didn’t respond – until she nudged him

When he looked over at her, there wasn’t any color in even HIS usually pasty face. His freckles, even now that he was fifteen, still stood out on his face like spaghetti sauce blotches. At least he’d got his hair cut super short over winter break, Sophia thought with approval. The red stuff at shoulder length had been almost too much to stand! He said, “The last time I read a new Stephen King book, I almost died.”

Sophia shook her head and took a bite of her taco salad then made a face. “The food didn’t get any better over break, I’ll tell you that much. Why can’t they just order out from Taco Bell?”

“You’re not listening to me!” Liam said.

“Sure I am – the last time you read this guy’s book, you almost pissed yourself.”

“I didn’t say that. I said I almost DIED.”

Shaking her head, she toasted him with another forkful of salad and said, “Whatever.”

He stood up abruptly, looking down at her with the strangest look then said, “I gotta go.”

“Go where? It’s the first day of a new semester. You don’t have any homework.” She sighed, he could be almost as dramatic as her friends. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down on his chair again. “OK – let’s start at the beginning.

The cafeteria was jammed and someone had been moving in on Liam’s seat when she pulled him back. If it had been another freshman, she wouldn’t have bothered, but the look the guy was shooting at her was deadly. She grabbed her lunch tray without letting go of Liam and said, “This was making me sick, anyway.” She tossed it into the nearby garbage can and towing him after her, made her way to the stairwell.

The supervisor knew them both and waved them through. When the door shut behind them, muted to a dull roar, she said, “The last story this guy wrote almost killed you…” she paused.

He wouldn’t meet her eye, looking down at his ereader. Finally he lifted his chin and said, “Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but his stories...they’re somehow linked to me.”

“You mean like ‘Stranger Than Fiction’ linked to you?”

He make as if he were thinking, then shook his head, “Not that closely linked.” He pursed his lips, sucked the top one between his teeth then said, “I love reading…”

“Duh!” she said, slugging him softly on the shoulder. “I do, too.”

“Nah, you like your Ebony and Essence,” he held up one hand defensively, “Not that that’s bad! You’re like my only friend that reads as much as me, but,” he looked down again, “When I read a Stephen King book or story, I get sucked into it. I can’t explain it, exactly. It’s like the book is about me, but not about me. That’s why I don’t dare read his newest one...which I got for Christmas...which I can’t NOT read...which, if I do is gonna kill me. Like, for real...”

She grabbed his Kindle, cussing, and thumbed it on. The cover of the book showed a guy who looked like he was delivering mail in a tornado. In bold, red letters across the bottom – smaller than Stephen King’s name in bolder, redder letters across the top, was the word, MAIL…”

Names: ♀ ; ♂ Most common US names 2014
Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 667

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: “When wizards are immortal, they don’t need to train successors, and my not be able to…”
Current Event: http://www.rsc.org/chemistryworld/2013/07/pipeline-knowledge-lost-time-gained

Sidaji the Immortal pursed his lips, glaring down at the bucket of swamp water, tapping the edge. His fingers strayed to the runic marks inscribed on the sides. He stared for some time before looking up and saying, “You are Luca Růžička.”

Luca sighed and tugged on his soaking wet jeans. His black Converses squelched on his feet and he scratched at a mosquito bite on his forehead.

Ranghild Peeters, the beautiful and incredibly annoying second apprentice said, “You’re not supposed to pick at pimples. I’ve got a skin cleanser...” She stepped a bit away from him as the smell of Okefenokee swamp drifted up from the water leaking from Luca’s tennis shoes and dribbling on the Persian rug.

Luca snapped, “It’s a mosquito bite.”

“Yeah, right,” said Ranghild.

“You try sloshing around in a swamp to get a bucket of ‘water clear of duckweed, water clear of waste’ and see how long you can keep the mosquitoes from eating you alive!”

Sidaji looked at her and said, “You are Ranghild Peeters.”

She blew her startlingly raven black bangs up her forehead and said, “Yes, Immortal One. Now, can we get on with the transformation. I’ve got things I have to do today.”

Luca muttered, “Like flirt with every guy in Minneapolis?”

Ranghild shook her head, “We’re broken up. Get over it.”

“I didn’t break anything up. You dumped me.”

“Only because you’re being such a...”

Sidaji the Immortal straightened up, lifted his arms and thundered, “Silence!” The thunder was literal as the windows of the mansion they were living in on Mt. Curve Avenue overlooking Lowry Park shook in their frames. Only Luca and Ranghild’s unity spells kept them from shattering. Across the street in the park, an autumn flock of common egrets took wing, rising up in a cloud of white stark against the golds, reds, oranges, and browns of the pond.

The wizard looked down on them, having swelled to twice his usual height. The floor beneath him creaked as he stepped toward them, saying, “þearf sy forþsetennes héafodcwide manian gescaep lifiendee!”*

They looked at each other, shrugged, and Ranghild said, “Your Immortal Greatness, we are currently in the early part of the 21st Century. I’m not sure shouting in Old English will accomplish anything. Especially as neither one of us can understand it. You enchanted us with this century’s English vocabulary.”

Sidaji stared at her, blinked, then said, “I seem to be having some trouble remembering things today.” The wizard’s apprentices both stepped back in unison, finding that the grand piano behind them blocked their retreat. Sidaji laughed, rattling the chandelier in the entryway.

“You’re immortal!” Luca exclaimed.

“What do you mean you’re having trouble remembering?” Ranghild exclaimed.

Sidaji pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing heavily tattooed forearms. His hands were blunt – the hands of a farmhand rather than a dandified city boy – and his nails, while clean and trimmed, the nails of a man who had worked for his livelihood. He looked at his hands, studying them for a moment. Then he looked at his apprentices. He smiled and said, “My body is immortal, child. There was never any guarantee that my memories would be immortal as well.”

They looked at each other and Sidaji laughed again. “What are you laughing at?” Luca said.

“The two of you are acting like you’re in a movie. Are you really that much in love that you can’t think independently?”

Both of them, temporarily frozen in age as teenagers and prone to forget that they had actually been born in 11th Century Denmark and the Kingdom of Bohemia, were neither teenagers nor Americans and effectively his slaves – blushed furiously. Sidaji waved them away, remembering at the last moment to disempower the gesture, said, “That doesn’t seem to help me remember how to turn this swamp water into botulism infected water.” He looked at them and added, “Why are we going to poison the water supply of Minneapolis?”

Names: ♀ Denmark, Belgium ; ♂ Austria, Czechoslovakian

Translation: (From Old English – http://www.oldenglishtranslator.co.uk/) “There is far more of import here than your mortal sex lives!”

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 666

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.” Let me know if anything comes of them.

SF Trope: Absolute xenophobes
Current Event: http://io9.com/what-will-human-cultures-be-like-in-100-years-453934475

Diandra Ngobogo and Guychel Kolchak walked side-by-side in the Mall of America. The Mall was crowded – more so than it had been in decades. The entire building had been renovated and vertical banners proclaiming, “Fifty Years Of Quality Shopping” floated from antigrav advert-eyezers, brushing shoppers with trailers of brilliantly colored silk.

It was just as effective as elaborate signage had been in the last century. Most of the people ignored them. While it was true people ducked into and out of shops, the majority simply walked, talking.

To themselves.

Even so, it was quieter. The near silence was broken only by the squeak of tennis shoes and murmuring voices, as if someone had stumbled into a Buddhist temple filled with saffron-robed monks doing their morning prayers.

Diandra said, “What could you possibly want with that?”

Guychel said, “Where would she go with someone like him?” He squeezed Diandra’s hand so hard, she yelped, yanking her hand away from his.

He didn’t notice even when she glanced at him. He did notice when she shoved him hard enough to stumble into a column that rose up all seven stories to support a semi-transparent roof panel. He said, “I’ll talk to you in a minute,” tapped his phone and glared at Diandra and exclaimed, “What was that for?” He tapped his phone again and muttered, “No, not you! I’m talking to Diandra.” He paused. “She’s my girlfriend.” Paused again then said, “Why would you think that?” and hung up on the caller. He finally looked at Diandra and said, “What?”

Balled fists on her hips, she jerked her head sideways once, calling Guychel. She murmured, “We haven’t said a word to each other since we got here.”

“We’re talking now,” he murmured back.

“You didn’t even notice when I stopped holding your hand!” she said.

He looked stupid at the offending member then at her, murmuring, “So?”

“Why do we even go to the trouble of getting together if we’re just going to walk alongside each other and still talk to the rest of the world?”

He stared at her then swallowed hard. He hung up and said to her directly, “Are you breaking up with me?”

She hung up as well and said out loud, “I like you a lot. Why would I break up with you?”

“You’re not talking to me, though,” Guychel said.

“I’m talking to you.”

He gestured angrily, “You know what I mean! We’re not on the same circuit!”

Diandra stared at him for several seconds before he looked away. She said, “I skipped fifteen times from Jakarta to here just to be with you. Do you see any more couples here?”

Guychel looked. He frowned. Then he turned in a circle and finally said, “None that I can see. They’re all here by themselves for whatever reason, but they’re with their real friends, too. What’s wrong with that?”

She’d done the same thing, tracking various Mall walkers. She finally said, “I ain’t a genius…”

“You are, too. That’s what the datafile says. It’s why I texted you.”

She blinked in surprise then smiled, “You flirted me because I was smart?”

He grinned lopsidedly, “That and you’re a sexbag.”

She sniffed and slugged him on the shoulder and said, “You’re no outtrash yourself.”

He blushed under his pink dyed blond hair. The two colors clashed remarkably. He said, “So, what you’re saying is that we should like, really talk to each other?”

Diandra shrugged, “Could be new.”

Guychel grinned then looked up. Way up. He frowned. “What?” Diandra asked.

He jerked his chin up. “Someone was watching us.”

She touched her headset then said, “I ran it back. You’re right. Who was that?”

Names: ♀ Indonesia, Central African Republic; ♂ Democratic Republic of Congo, Russia (Siberia)
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 665

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: “Alucard” – Dracula Written Backward as a way of disguise…
Current Event: http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2012/10/50-scariest-monsters-movie-history/

“The word ‘monster’ comes from the Latin word monstrum which is an aberrant occurrence, usually biological, that was taken as a sign that something was wrong within the natural order,” read Wyndham D’Aquino.

“So, what are you trying to say?” said Charlotte Mogwai.

“Nothing,” said Wyndham, looking out the window at the house across the street. Small, run-down, it was just like the rest of the neighborhood. Pathetic. It was easier than looking at Charlotte. But he added, “You know, the fact is that it’s an aberrant occurrence.”

“Are you saying Dejario is a monster?” She snorted – a most unladylike sound, Wyndham thought – and said, “You’re just jealous!”

He shrugged and put down his tablet computer. “Yeah, but that doesn’t make Dejario any less a monster.”

“There is nothing wrong with the natural order! It’s just that...”

“It’s just that he’s not natural?”

“It’s not like he’s a vampire or a werewolf...”

“Those things aren’t even ‘monsters’ according to this definition! They were just made up in Hollywood to make money for the studios…” Wyndham said.

“So you’re saying that Godzilla was part of nature?” asked Charlotte.

He opened his mouth, paused to reconsider, then said, “Inasmuch as mutations are natural, Godzilla was.”

“Dracula’s natural?”

He shrugged, “Based on a real villain with as taste for bloody impalement of his enemies, then ‘yes’. Perverse but natural.”

Charlotte scowled, whipped out her tablet computer and said, “Cyclops, Mr. Hyde, Dracula, Frankenstein, Werewolf, Invisible Man, Mummy, Bigfoot, Dinosaurs, Zombies, King Kong, the Blob, CHUD, Cthulu, Kraken, Medusa, Triffid, Trolls, Freddy Krueger, Ghost, Hulk, Evil Clown, Leprechaun, Megalodon, Predator, Wolfman, Wyvern...”

“Stop! No, they’re not all natural!”

“So, he’s not a monster.”

“He is a monster!” Wyndham said. “Besides, his name is Namel B. Isivnieht, from Russia.”

“So? Lots of people have strange names! Especially when they come from Russia.”

“His name is The Invisible Name, backwards – what? You failed spelling and grammar in school as well as math?”

“I didn’t fail math!”

“I was there – you did! Big time!”

Charlotte was ready to slap his silly face off his silly head and raised her arm to do it when something gripped her wrist – and another part of her body – and said with a Nigerian accent, “You don’t have to worry about him anymore, girl!”

As she struggled against the unseen hands, Wyndham suddenly crumpled across the room, blood spattering out from the back of his head as he pitched forward. A woman’s voice said, “Get your hands off her, Name – or the next bullet will be for your head!”

Image: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51niGRrH6DL.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 664

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.

Witchcraft For World Peace
Current Event: http://wildhunt.org/2016/02/call-for-global-witchcraft-community-to-unite-against-terrorism.html

Saga Pai-Teles shook her head then said, “How much do you really expect us to accomplish?”

Djamel Vlach sighed, “I’m sure nothing, but what else can we do that might even conceivably make a difference? I’m not a soldier, and unless you enlisted in the Royal Marines or fought a stint with the Aegis Mercenaries in the past few months, I’m pretty sure you don’t have much experience with fighting, either.”

“But we’re not ‘fighting’ – not like that anyway. Our powers are of Earth, wind, ice, fire, and water.”

“Sounds like the name of an American band from the nineteen seventies.” She frowned at him and made a faint movement with her fingers. He laughed, “You think charms and wardings are going to be able to stave off the black market weaponry of Daesh, or Boko Haram, or the Taliban?”

“Shows how much YOU know! We’re not here to fight anger with anger. We’re here to fight anger with the power of nature and of the true spirit of Humanity. There are way more...”

Djamel wasn’t listening to her. His eyes had grown wide. “OK! Now you’re talking! Taking out Daesh with a hurricane or an earthquake or even a flood is totally cool! I could get into that and I even have a couple of spells that enhance water movement!”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” she stopped talking abruptly. “Then again, I have a couple of other spells that help anyone who’s got a gift for dowsing.”

“What’s that?”

She looked at him steadily and when she had his complete attention, she said, “Dowsing is all about FINDING water, Djamel. If I could find the water…”

“I could direct it.” Djamel scowled again. “My powers aren’t that…um…powerful.”

“Mine, neither. What we need is someone who can magnify or enhance our simple powers,” Saga said.

“I don’t have simple powers! They’re plenty strong enough!”

“That’s not what I meant! In order to deal world peace and muffle terrorism in our time, we have to overcome terror with peace. But it can’t be done if we’re weak.”

“We need, like, a talisman.”

“A crystal, or a…” Sag was saying.

Djamel cut her off, “The Vial of Trench!”

“What’s that?”

“A Vial of water collected from the bottom of the Marianas Trench.” He looked down at her, “Can you think of a more powerful talisman to increase our mission to bring peace on Earth than focusing our meager powers through a vial of water from the bottom of the Earth’s sea?”

“I can’t…”

“We’ll do it and it’ll start now?”

Names: ♀ Finland, Portugal; ♂ Algeria, Hungary
Image: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/71/e5/9871e52bbc09c525af21b8f6471eab15.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 663

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 Trope: "It occurs to me that robot stories about naturally-occurring robots present an untapped sci-fi resource in terms of commenting on what constitutes life, or a meditation on the machine like nature of biological man, etc."
Current Event: http://www.fromquarkstoquasars.com/scientists-create-life-like-cells-out-of-metal/

Ebony Jones pursed her lips, tweaking the landing jets of the surface ship. “I don’t like how it looks down there.”

Marquis Deonte ran another scan, tapping one of the readouts as he said, “It’s mechanical life, sure. Maybe the first time we’ve ever run across it naturally...”

“There’s nothing ‘natural’ about ‘mechanical life’. It’s an oxymoron,” she almost added “Like you...”, but decided against it. They’d butted heads enough times on the trip out from Earth – mostly because you could only live out virtual adventures so many times before you got bored. You could also only prep for landing on an alien world so many times before you were twitching in your sleep with the movements you’d repeated a million times.

You could only tell someone you just wanted to be friends so many times before you both started to... Marquis cut into her litany, saying, “Didn’t you come out here to find life as we DON’T know it?"

“Of course it’s what I want! Just because I question the possibility of some sort of metallic, mechanical...”

“Look! Down there!” he said, aiming the external sensors at the roiling surface.

Ebony said, “Besides, water mixed with just about any kind of salt would be corrosive to metal...”

“Our bones are metallic,” he said, his voice taking on the deadpan, lecture mode they’d fallen into after they’d first become fast friends. Since about ten months into the flight to HD 196944, a star rich in heavy metals when they’d stopped being best friends and become the banes of their separate existences.

“True, that. But...”

“There’s something moving under the surface,” said Marquis.

“I don’t see anything...”

“It’s not visible in our part of the spectrum. Change the frequency reception of your scanner. I’m getting lots of movement in the UV band. Also IR.”

She tapped the screen, slid a spectrum bar and watched as the imaged jumped into view. There were larger shapes deeper down. Smaller ones close to the surface. They were angular rather than rounded; mechanical rather than biological. “What kind of ecology would they have?” she muttered. After a moment, she said more loudly, “There’s something – cloudy – under the surface. Seems to be...” she paused, defaulted to a space-view of the lander, zoomed in then added, “The cloud is matching the shape of our shadow.”

“Huh?” Marquis said.

“Our shadow! A cloud is forming underneath us in the water.” Below them, something burbled, as if the water were boiling. A larger bubble burst beneath the surface, splashing the lander. Ebony swung the imager to the belly of the lander and cried, “The ship’s skin is boiling! I’m taking us up!” Without waiting for his confirmation, Ebony pushed the throttle to full...

Names: ♀, ♂ Top 20 Whitest and Blackest Names (http://abcnews.go.com/2020/story?id=2470131) Resource: http://io9.com/5628989/ten-tropes-youll-find-in-science-fiction---over-and-over-again, http://www.eso.org/public/images/eso0129b/
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

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 662

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: xenofiction (point of view of an animal)
Current Event: http://www.arkanimalspace.com/ark-blog/theo-the-bomb-sniffing-dog/

Mia had one mission in life.

She was an IED-expert. When she was called up and shipped to Afghanistan, it was the single most exciting moment in her short life. She was certain she’d been made for it. Certain that no one else could do it as well as she could. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her mission was to save lives by getting rid of IEDs that littered this sad country after its abortive war. She was set to do whatever was necessary – almost.

When she found IEDs, she refused to touch them and certainly refused to disarm them no matter how simple the device was. In fact, she couldn’t disarm an IED even if her partner’s life depended on it. She couldn’t handle them – because she didn’t have hands.

But smelling an IED was an entirely different story. She could tell the exact makeup of the IED from thirty meters away.

It had taken her a lot of time to train her partner to be as good as she was. The language barrier itself was nearly impossible to overcome. Ethan Pai-Teles was virtually deaf, couldn’t tell the difference between a rubber band bomb and a mercury-tilt switch bomb. Mia could smell mercury from a long way away – the sharp, poisonous tang would keep her away even when Ethan tried to bribe her with treats.

She’d usually answer him, “Totally unsafe, Ethan! Totally unsafe!”

He rarely understood her. At least now he slowed down some. When they first started working together, he’d tried to get her to understand English. She got that – some of the first words she’d understood were “toy” and “walk”. But the language was so limited. Ninety percent of the scent keys aligned with real language were missing in English. It was nearly impossible for Ethan to hear anything but the most rudimentary phrases in the Bark Tongue.

Yun, a Chinese Shih Tzu soldier Mia had met at the Summer Olympics had it easier. Her partner at least understood the importance of pitch in real speech. Ethan – she loved him, but MAN! – was practically tone deaf, even as far as Humans were concerned.

She had to rely on body language, just as he’d devised a series of hand signals that allowed them to work together as their sight at close range was very nearly the same.

They were patrolling a stretch of road they hadn’t been in a bit. They’d been working together – she knew it was many, many sunrises past the last sandstorm, Ethan said “Two years, six months, five days, thirteen hours and,” he’d glance at his arm, “fourteen minutes” – and she caught the whiff of an IED.

She growled. It smelled strange. Very strange. There was the sharp, Human smell of plastic explosive but it was overlain with something different. She’d never caught the scent of anything like it…except maybe when they’d trained together when she was a pup. It had been in a very dry place, a long way away from her favorite water and the fabulous birds Ethan killed for her but didn’t allow her to eat.

This place had two white marks laid on the floor of one of the buildings. Ethan had made a violent sound and exclaimed something softly and low so she could actually hear it, “Area Fifty-One?”

This smell was the same as that...

Names: ♀ UK-Scotland ; ♂ UK, Portuguese
Image: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/71/e5/9871e52bbc09c525af21b8f6471eab15.jpg