VICTORY OF FISTS Set To Release February 23!!!!!

My NEW book, VICTORY OF FISTS is due out February 23, 2016! It's currently on the banner of MUSE IT UP, Publishing! You can pre-order it now from MuseItUp or from Amazon.com...

https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/coming-soon/victory-of-fists-detail

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 239

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.

Fantasy Trope: The Quest

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A what?”

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

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

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

Uthman snorted, “It sounds like science fiction.”

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

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

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

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

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

“A window?”

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

Names: ♀ Czech, Roman; ♂ Arabic, Hindu

Image: http://meetgray.com/Media/Default/%D0%9B%D1%8C%D1%8E%D0%B8%D1%81%20%D0%9A%D1%8D%D1%80%D1%80%D0%BE%D0%BB/Lewis_Carroll_Guildford_6-700x525.JPG

WRITING ADVICE (Part2): What Happened When I Read Ursula K. LeGuin’s Newly Revised Book, STEERING THE CRAFT: A 21st Century Guide to Sailing the Sea of Story (September 2015) Guy Stewart #29

“We are all apprentices

in a craft where no one

ever becomes a master.”

Ernest Hemingway

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, Lin Oliver speak at a convention hosted by the Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. Since then, I have shared (with their permission) and applied the writing wisdom of Lin Oliver, Jack McDevitt, Nathan Bransford, Mike Duran, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, SL Veihl, Bruce Bethke, and Julie Czerneda. Together they write in genres broad and deep, and have acted as agents, editors, publishers, columnists, and teachers. Since then, I figured I’ve got enough publications now that I can share some of the things I did “right” and I’m busy sharing that with you.

While I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it...neither do all of the professional writers above...someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. When I started this blog, that was NOT true, so I may have reached a point where my own advice is reasonably good. We shall see! Hemingway’s quote above will now remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales! As always, your comments are welcome!

Addendum: Compared to Ursula K. LeGuin, most speculative writer’s work fall short of literary merit. But LeGuin won The annual 2004 Edwards Award, the panel noting that: “LeGuin ‘has inspired four generations of young adults to read beautifully constructed language, visit fantasy worlds that inform them about their own lives, and think about their ideas that are neither easy nor inconsequential’” (Wikipedia)

(The following is how I started the last Writing Advice Entry – but it’s necessary to set the stage for my observations beginning in paragraph four…)

I started reading this book (the 2015 edition), which was originally published in 1998, a few days ago. I have found it slow going – not because it’s badly written, but because every sentence invites me to pause and reflect.

Before her, only two other writers – and I mean no offense here – have inspired me to consider their non-fiction works with the same kind of attention. Dietrich Bonhoeffer and C.S. Lewis have given me such pause that it seemed to take forever to read THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP and MERE CHRISTIANITY because I was marking, underlining, or commenting on two or three things on every page.

I mean no offense because I am well-aware of LeGuin’s opinion of religion, and of Christianity in particular, but my writing is almost as important to me as my faith – and LeGuin has forced me to think about my writing in a way I have never done before.

And so, to work: “I see the biggest difference between past and present tenses not as immediacy but as complexity and size of field…the difference between a narrow beam flashlight and sunlight. One shows a small, intense, brightly lit field with nothing around it. The other shows the world.” (p 52); “So make sure, if you change tenses in midstory, that you know that you’re doing it, and why. And if you do it, make sure you carry your readers effortlessly with you, and don’t maroon them like the hapless crew of the Enterprise, in a Temporal Anomaly that they can only get out of only by using Warp Speed Ten.” (p 56)

I have a book coming out this year in which I did this deliberately: I flipped from past and present tenses EVERY CHAPTER…I very likely made it almost impossible to find a publisher for the book, but I honestly couldn’t see any other way to make the point I wanted to make.

In VICTORY OF FISTS (you can read the first two chapters in first-draft form here: http://theworkandworksheetsofguystewart.blogspot.com/), Langston Hughes Jones has a big problem with fighting. He’s been defending himself  by punching people’s lights out since kindergarten. He’s smart too, and knows that he had to find some way to deal with that anger or he’d destroy his future.

So he writes poetry. Lots of it. All the time. He writes it after he has to deal with things that make him mad and he writes to deflect that anger.

I wanted to show (among other things) that we don’t have to choose self-destructive behavior. STUDENTS don’t have to choose self-destructive behavior. They can choose to deal with the world in ways that will move them closer to their goals and their dreams.

I wanted Langston to achieve his dreams; but I wanted more than that. I wanted the reader to SEE him working out his future. They needed to see him get mad repeatedly and then work through the anger.

The only way to do that was to show the incident and then show his thought processes. So, I used third person, past tense when I was describing what happened and first person – past tense (I hate writing in present tense. For some reason it makes me, pardon the pun, “tense”) when he wrote poetry. He makes notes, talks to the reader/himself, and then finds a format of poetry that fits what he wants to say. He does one in the style of Seuss, one in the style of Shel Silverstein, another in Shakespearean sonnet form, still another like the poems of Walt Whitman. It was hard to communicate his thought processes any other way but by getting into his head.

That created another problem. How could I make poetry violent? How could I make a teenager writing poetry exciting?

LeGuin clearly defined what I needed to do: “I define story as a narrative of events (external or psychological) that moves through time or implies the passage of time and that involves change. I define plot as a form of story that uses action as its mode, usually in the form of conflict, and that closely  and intricately connects one act to another, usually through a causal chain, ending in a climax.” (p 122) So I had to make writing poetry active.

*sigh* It was hard, but I think I accomplished what I set out to do: make a cross between FIGHT CLUB and CRANK…
What did I learn? Obviously NOTHING! Ms. LeGuin would probably hate me for what I did in VICTORY OF FISTS…

Image: http://static4.quoteswave.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/We-are-all-apprentices.jpg

Read An Article. Horrified.

THE $7500 BLOGGING MISTAKE EVERY BLOGGER NEEDS TO AVOID!


From a site called living for naptime...you can search for it yourself. I'm afraid if I link it, the extortionist will search and follow it back before I can delete my pix.

JOURNEY TO THE PORTRAIT’S SECRET #81: July 31, 1946

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

Edwina Olds, Lieutenant, WACS (ret.), “Ed” by choice, reached across Tommy Hastings and patted Freddie Merrill’s knee, “If it weren’t for Arnie, I’d take you up on your offer, son.” She sighed, “But you know how truck drivers and cops are.”

“I don’t know!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Rock solid, son. Rock solid through and through.”

Freddie sighed, closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. As they drove on into the night, his fake sleep turned real; and Tommy wasn’t far behind. Ed smiled at the boys fondly and whispered, “But I sure hope I have some boys like you two someday.”

 

It was still dark when they woke up, but as Tommy looked around blearily, he said, “Where are we?”

The truck was slowing, Ed down-shifting as they approached an intersection. “Milaca.”

Freddie groaned, stretched his arms, elbowing Tommy’s ear. “Ouch! Watch where you’re poking that thing! Like you got a bayonet for a elbow!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, not meaning anything by it.

Tommy elbowed him back. Freddie twisted sideways, his hands going for Tommy’s neck.

“Stop,” Ed said suddenly, her voice soft – but cracking like a whip of a lion tamer. Both boys froze in mid-motion.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy whispered.

Ed turned to them, and by the green light from the dashboard, she looked like the Bride of Frankenstein. Both boys shrank away from her. The tractor trailer drifted into the tiny town. Four lights lit the main street, backlighting for just a second, a round shadow. Freddie began, “What’s that…”

Ed’s hand lashed out. Cupped over his mouth, her fingers exerted such pressure that they squeezed his jaw closed and pressed him against the back of the trailer window. The glass groaned.

So did Freddie.

She released him and his slid down the seat and into the well. Tommy did the same as she geared the truck up slowly, passing the island of light in an otherwise inky darkness. The drove for what seemed like an hour before she said, “You can get up now.”

His voice weird, Freddie managed to say, “I can’t. My jaw’s broken. In six places.”

“It’s not broken,” said Ed. “If it was, you wouldn’t be able to talk at all and you’d be screaming in pain.” She paused, “I know. I’ve broken the jaws of several men. And arms. A couple of legs and at least one neck.” She paused again, then added, “Besides, you can still move – even if I had accidently broken it. Which I didn’t.”

“Then...”

“The Socialists were there. Waiting for you.”

“You could have protected us!” said Tommy.

Ed snorted. “I’m strong boys, but not that strong. Certainly not strong enough to take on fifteen armed men by myself.”

“You got us!” Freddie exclaimed.

Ed barked, cleared her throat then said, “I do, and we could probably take them all on.” She jerked her chin to one side, “But we now have a bigger problem.”

Both boys said together, “What?”

“We’re running out of gas,” she gestured through the windshield, “And there’s not a gas station within miles.” She paused, “And the tank is almost empty.”

Image: http://www.lakesnwoods.com/images/Milaca20.gif

Ideas On Tuesdays 237

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: The rag-tag rebel army/fleet struggles valiantly to overthrow the Evil Empire (The TV series FIREFLY used this trope to great effect!)

Current Event: http://metro.co.uk/2013/06/25/star-wars-actor-warwick-davis-id-love-to-be-a-villain-with-a-lightsaber-in-episode-7-3854887/

Zehra Borg bit her lower lip, then remembered that it wasn’t exactly the most impressive look in the world. Captain Fenwick was up front, trying to cut a deal with the insectoid Krkrach swarm leader. They’d watched the entire classic movie, DISTRICT 9 in order to get them ready for this.

Still, the things were creepier than all get out – and she wasn’t helping to create a fearsome Human image by biting her lip.

Beside her, Warwick Yilmaz dug his elbow into her side, leaned over and whispered, “They really do look like crickets on steroids!”

“That’s ‘allies’ to you, boy!”

He subsided and grunted. They needed all the help they could get. The upper stratosphere of the Empire was controlled entirely by Humans. There wasn’t a single alien in any position higher than the Secretary of Inter-Species Affairs – and it’s job was mostly ceremonial. The real decisions were made by the Human Director of Inter-Species Affairs. The Secretary, while it certainly seemed to be an intelligent snail-like being, didn’t seem overly smart. She sighed. That was how she’d gotten involved in this whole rebellion.

From behind her, a thorny creature known to Humans as an Athing, nudged her, nearly knocking her off her feet. While most Athings were polite, philosophical if somewhat long-winded beings, this one was rude, obnoxious – and seemed to be out to get her goat.

Warwick saw what Geffner – that’s what this one’s name (or title, she wasn’t sure) was – did. He flushed red and balled his fists, muttering, “If the captain weren’t trying to negotiate help...”

Geffner rumbled something back and while none of them had their translator circuits tuned at the moment, its intent was clear. Warwick murmured back, “You and what part of the squad?”

Suddenly the Captain turned around and snapped, “Geffner, Borg, Yilmaz and Kachuh’Gna – forward!”

Zehra’s eyes widened and she glanced at Warwick as she snapped to attention and went forward. Geffner farted – an Athing’s response to unexpected stress. She wasn’t exactly sure what Kachuh’Gna did, but the amorphous alien was suddenly resting near the Captain, it’s pangolin-like pet seated on top of its pulsating blob of a body.

Zehra and Warwick stepped lively, though Warwick had to step faster than she did because his legs were markedly shorter – he was from Human stock that had once been called “midgets”. Kachuh’Gna was already there and after a moment of immobility, Geffner had lumbered up to join them.

The Captain said, “You four are going to be doing a solider exchange. We need to better understand the Krkrach. You four are the best we have at adapting to alternative life forms. So you’re going to live with the Swarm for the next two  months. You’re going to share your ideas with each other and you’re going to make the integration of our two forces go smoothly and without a hitch. The Flota de Rebelde is planning an major incursion into Imperial space and we need every advantage we can get – including a thorough understanding of our new allies’ military and communication abilities.” She nodded to them, then turned and bowed to the Head Cricket On Steroids...

Names: ♀ Turkey, Malta ; ♂ England, Turkey  
Image: http://themovieblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/thing.jpg

A Slice of PIE: Where is Asimov When You Need Him? (Condescending Scientists Have Killed Science Reporting)

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Spokane, August 2015, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #3207 . The link is provided below…

Science Reporting: Science plays an important part of our lives. Our ability to understand science is dependent, in part, on how science is reported in the news. An on-going trend is the loss of science beat reporters, but also the rise of professional scientists as bloggers. How well is science reported in today’s new media? How might this change? What are sources of science news that you can rely on? Anne Hoppe (m), Frank Catalano, Janet Freeman-Daily, Charlotte Lewis Brown

(This essay is not in direct response to this event -- it just sparked a line of thought!)

When I think of the best science reporters – not the smartest, or best in their field, or with the most letters behind their names, or the most insistent that they are “right” – I think of Isaac Asimov.

“…professor of biochemistry at Boston University, best known for his works of science fiction and for his popular science books. Asimov was prolific and wrote or edited more than 500 books and an estimated 90,000 letters and postcards. His books have been published in 9 of the 10 major categories of the Dewey Decimal Classification.” (Wikipedia)

We have no Asimov today. In fact, I can think of no scientist-author-newspaper columnist anywhere…one that’s not condescending, that is. Currently, AGW warming alarmists have set themselves at the very forefront of science reporting hecklers. The people they heckle, unfortunately, are people who are NOT scientists. Try this on for size:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/justin-stoneman/post_868_b_720398.html

This one’s about obesity and stupid Americans. Or how about this one: http://news.discovery.com/space/astronomy/1-in-4-americans-dont-know-earth-orbits-the-sun-yes-really-140214.htm about how stupid Americans don’t know that the Earth orbits the sun. Or this one regarding democracy: http://blog.sfgate.com/politics/2012/03/09/scientists-say-america-is-too-dumb-for-democracy-to-thrive/. How about the simple fact that we’re psychologically messed up: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/wired-success/201407/anti-intellectualism-and-the-dumbing-down-america. And then there’s the Democratic Party’s American “whipping boy” – the GOP is stupid (by implication anyone who is a Republican is stupid…so roughly half of the US) http://www.addictinginfo.org/2015/12/18/obama-calls-gop-stupid-on-climate-change-even-far-right-european-parties-agree-video/.

This article, however, is both NOT par-for-the-course and well-done: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/04/opinion/sunday/playing-dumb-on-climate-change.html?_r=0

Not ONCE did Asimov begin with “Americans are so stupid” or “The GOP is so stupid” or any other deprecatory statement of ANY group of people. He educated. He wrote clearly and on everything. He educated without malice and with a sense of humor. He wrote quizzes that people actually took – my local “newspaper” still does them! (http://www.startribune.com/isaac-asimov-s-super-quiz/129322923/)

For a complete list of his work, go here: http://www.asimovonline.com/oldsite/essay_guide.html

As for his essays, “Though perhaps best known throughout the world for his science fiction, Isaac Asimov was also regarded as one of the great explainers of science. His essays exemplified his skill at making complex subjects understandable, and were written in an unformal style, liberally sprinkled with personal anecdotes that endeared him to a legion of faithful readers.”

Even as intelligent as he was; even though he knew he probably knew more than most of the people he met, he responded this way in the Fall of 1989: “I RECEIVED a letter the other day. It was handwritten in crabbed penmanship so that it was very difficult to read. Nevertheless, I tried to make it out just in case it might prove to be important. In the first sentence, the writer told me he was majoring in English literature, but felt he needed to teach me science. (I sighed a bit, for I knew very few English Lit majors who are equipped to teach me science, but I am very aware of the vast state of my ignorance and I am prepared to learn as much as I can from anyone, so I read on.)” (http://chem.tufts.edu/answersinscience/relativityofwrong.htm)

Would that more science writers took Asimov’s stance; spoke more eloquently; AND judged less harshly, maybe the whole GMO issue, and AGW issue, and stem cell issue, and vaccine issue, and every OTHER issue regular folk respond to with fear; might never have come to BE issues if more science writers worked at educating people gently rather than with the “I HAVE A PHD AND SO I KNOW MORE THAN ALL OF YOU STUPID [choose your group] PEOPLE SO YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”(I actually had a person write this to me because of a blog post.) that I’ve seen so often in so many paper and online publications.

So, is there any science writer out there with the “spirit” of Asimov?

(PS – I picked the quote above because I am certain that scientists and writers who are most critical of “the rest of us” automatically assume that they would “of course” be with Asimov in laughing at stupid people. But I can’t find a single reference to him completing the statement with, “Except for scientists and people who think other people are stupid.” I’m pretty sure that “society” includes all of us – and I’m pretty sure Asimov would have included himself in “society (‘the aggregate of people living together in a more or less ordered community.’)”)

Program Book: http://sasquan.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/ConGuide.toupload.pdf

Image: http://img15.deviantart.net/8e00/i/2015/104/f/f/isaac_asimov_man_among_robots_by_roberlan-d8cp5ag.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 37

On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. The Braiders accidentally created a resonance wave that will destroy the Milky Way and the only way to stop it is for the Yown’Hoo-Kiiote-Human Triads to build a physical wall. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society may produce the Membrane to stop the wave.

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

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

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

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

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

Retired never got to finish his sentence because a flash of light followed by a thunderous roar made the truck swerve wildly. The autopilot took over from me and Retired had the big gun in his hands again. The truck stopped and ahead of us, the ground was glowing green. Otherwise, it was totally silent now.

He said, “I think our enemies may have found us. We have to get out of here.” Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh (ret), whom I’d started calling Retired, yanked open the delivery truck’s door and dropped out.

“What are you doing?” I whispered. An instant later, it was obvious.

The truck’s rear doors popped open and Retired said, “We have to leave this behind and get to the farm. It’s the only way we’re gonna be able to survive tonight. It’s about two miles down the road. Herd Mother, can you make it?”

Dao-hi said, “Of course I can. We all can!” she snapped her tentacle-arm for emphasis as the Herd leaped from the back.

“Qap, Xurf, any problem running the distance?”

“We will travel in low form, so no,” Qap, the female replied, and set about organizing the Pack so that the pups were taken care of. Dao-hi did the same.

‘Shay climbed into the front of the cab with me, slugged me on the shoulder, then kissed me and said, “We’ll be fine. We’ve been training for years. We can run the Pack and Herd into the ground!”

Qap and Xurf snarled a challenged, and Dao-hi, along with her smaller chosen males, Zei-go, Seg-go, Ali-go laughed in return.

Retired snorted and said, “Good. Let’s move out. Stay with me – Herd Mother, do you cede temporary leadership to me?”

“Done, Master Human!”

“Pack Leaders?”

They Pack howled and Xurf cried, “Lead, Human!”

“‘Car, ‘Shay? Do as I say, not as I do?”

We chorused, “Sir, yes, Sir!”

“Move out!” He ran, low to the ground, through the green glow of the shallow crater, then up the side and back on to the gravel road. “Single file, move fast, eyes ahead!” His lope was easy for all of us to follow. The Kiiote had all folded into “wolf” form and my best friend, the male Fax, ran alongside me, his bristles – not ‘fur’ because the Kiiote weren’t even loosely related to Earthly dogs – poked through my denims with shots of an adrenaline analogue. The Herd took up the rear, Herd Mother last of all. They were running with sheathed hooves. Underfoot, the road was frozen solid, though it’d been a mild winter and there wasn’t as much snow as there usually was.

It was silent and still, so we heard the Human choppers in the distance before we saw their searchlights sweeping the field. Ahead of us, Retired surged into a sprint and he hissed, “Spread out. Straight forward. When you get to the farm, head for the barn. Ignore the house.” Fax and me stayed together as the rest of them broke apart, the Herd with nervous snuffs barely heard.

The choppers homed on the truck and were shortly hovering over it. I shot a look over my shoulder and stumbled. No one yelled at me, but Fax’s spines dug into my leg as he held me up. The denim would be full of holes by morning. I could already feel the cold air in spots alongside my right knee.

I didn’t need to be looking to know that the choppers blew up our truck. The concussion was enough to knock me and Fax over, we tumbled over the hard ground, then were back on our feet. I was pretty sure I was running in the right direction – our truck was a pyre, flames shooting into the air – directly behind us. The choppers – there were two of them – started flying in widening circles, spotlights lancing down into the night like laser beams. Cursing all around except from me. Never got into it. The spotlights diffusing from the ground, lit our way with wildly leaping shadows. I had a stitch in my side, despite all the track running I’d done at our home in the Cities. I’d also never run over rough ground.

Or been scared for my life.

Why were Humans hunting us? Where was our Triad protection – Retired couldn’t be the total resources of the Corporation! Shouldn’t there be an army out here to protect us? The circle the choppers flew was only two hundred meters behind us and when the light came close this time, all I could see was Fax next to me, looking for all the world in that wild light, like a big dog. Running away from a scary helicopter with his master. Who’d been out hunting…raccoons on this cold winter night.

On close examination, Fax would obviously be a Kiiote. But from a height, maybe we could pass for a kid and his dog. One of the choppers was sweeping toward us, the noise deafening. I shouted to Fax, “Pretend you’re a dog!” I spun around, rolling onto my back. Fax huddled under my head as the chopper swept toward us. It stopped, the glaring spotlights washing out everything around us. I raised my hands, acting as if I was a terrified country boy – it wasn’t much of an act. The only part I was acting was ‘country’. I screamed, “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! I didn’t do nothin’! We was only out huntin’ ‘coon! I didn’t see nothin’! Why’d you blow up that truck?”

I doubted they heard a word I screamed, but my act must have convinced them I wasn’t who they were looking for – that and the fact that from their height and mostly under me, Fax looked like a dog. And we were alone on a dark, cold night, near a farmhouse. Either that or I didn’t look like I could threaten a kitten, let alone a world government. The chopper moved away, blowing debris, snow, and grit over us. We lay that way as the second chopper passed over us, sweeping us with its lights. They did it two more times until they were finally well beyond our place in the snow. I said, “I think we can get up now.” The back of my head was fine as Fax had consciously laid down his spines before the chopper reached us. Otherwise, I’d be bleeding from multiple head wounds.

He growled, shook himself, then lifted the spines again, saying, “Let’s never do that again.”

“Agreed. Next time we lay belly-to-belly,” I said, brushing myself off. Suddenly realizing what I said, I stammered, “Not…you know…like…” Belly-to-belly was how Kiiote exchanged DNA. Males and females had bare belly patches about two hands wide and long, that when breeders were ready, became slick with mucus. The female extruded tiny hooks which stimulated the male to release sperm into his mucus layer. A bit of rubbing followed – from what I’d seen, sometimes lots of rubbing followed – and the hooks pulled the male closer as well as opened six slits on the female’s belly pad. There was an egg in each slit, which the male sperm fertilized. If the mating was arranged, they’d separate and act all very business-like. But if they liked each other...I cleared my throat and whispered, “Not like that!”

Fax growled low in his throat and said, “What, you think I’m ugly?”

The conversation stopped dead as the choppers swung over what looked like an abandoned farm, then passed on. “That’s gotta be my uncle’s farm,” I said, ignoring my blushing face and other…bodily…reactions. “But where is everyone?”

Image: http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/x/night-view-abandoned-farm-mountains-44741622.jpg

Ideas On Tuesday 236 – Zombie Curse…

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

H Trope: immortality

Current Event: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Immortal_DNA_strand_hypothesis

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3109559/

While the Wikipedia entry explaining the Immortal DNA strand isn’t exactly a current event, the second entry IS and though it is a medical paper and written in medical language, it happens to be significant to the life of our family.

To make this understandable to lay people, I’d like to use those worn-out tropes of horror: vampires.

Let’s just say that the vampire DNA strand is immortal, but because so many vampires were killed in the 19^th and early 20^th century by various vampire slayers such as Koshiko Kamiyama, John Averill, Twelve String Digby (http://www.fvza.org/tophunters.html), Van Helsing and Buffy, it has become widely spread and doesn’t produce vampires any more.

It’s lengendarily reported that the vampire slayings were in response to an outbreak of vampires in the 17^th and 18^th Centuries (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/the-real-vampire-slayers-397874.html).

It is the 21^st Century now and people travel everywhere all the time. A chance college meeting leads to romance for a couple with old, Eastern European roots – Curtis Vlad Allen is the result and he discovers his vampiric leanings not long after his mom is transferred to the 3M headquarters in Minneapolis. He attends a prestigious private high school…but the story begins when his dad has to tell him about the birds, the bees and the bloodlust…

"Listen, Vlad, you’re thirteen now, there are things you need to know about yourself…”

Vlad snorted, “Dad, I know all about sex, so you don’t…”

“I know you know all about sex! This has nothing to do with sex. It has to do with a family…problem.”

Vlad frowned and said, “What are you talking about?”

His dad cleared his throat. “Listen, son, this is hard for me to talk about, but it has to do with when you get passionate with a girl…”

Vlad laughed. “Dad, you know I’m gay, right?”

His dad sighed, “A father can hope, can’t he? It doesn’t matter the orientation. It’s just that when you get passionate, you can…nibble on people.”

Vlad had no idea why it happened, but he was abruptly so embarrassed, his pale skin flushed red. His throat got tight, and he suddenly found that his hands, sitting in his lap, were worthy of intense study. He managed to croak, “Dad…”

“Listen, son, I can’t sugar coat this, so I’m just gonna say it out loud…”

“Don’t, Dad!”

“You’re a vampire, son, and when you ‘nibble’ on people, you’re passing the virus to them.”

Of all the conversations he’d imagined having with Dad, this was one he’d never thought to rehearse. He opened his mouth then closed it. Finally he managed, “You mean anyone that…has ever had a bite…is gonna become a vampire?”

Names: ♂ Romania

Image: http://img2.imagesbn.com/images/99630000/99631950.JPG

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Why Would Anyone REALLY Make A Clone Army?

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Spokane, August 2015, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #3111 . The link is provided below…

Creative Bio-engineering: We are just at the beginning of being able to realize SF dreams (and nightmares) of bio-engineering. This panel will discuss where we are today, what is in store in the near future, and what we might want to worry about. Ramez Naam (m), Nancy Kress, Vonda N. McIntyre, William Alvis Thomasson, Peter Charron

I recognize two names here -- Nancy Kress, who invented Humans who didn't need to sleep, and Vonda N. McIntyre who invented snakes that inject meds, so they know what they're talking about. The others, I've never read --but will now be on my "to read" list!

My wife takes bio-engineered insulin: “The human genetic coding for proinsulin is inserted into Escherichia coli cells, which are then grown by fermentation to produce proinsulin. The connecting peptide is cleaved enzymatically from proinsulin to produce human insulin. Studies indicate that there are no important differences between pork insulin and human insulin in terms of therapeutic efficacy and disposition after intravenous administration. Recombinant human insulin has a faster onset of action and lower immunogenicity than pork or beef insulin. Diabetic patients may have an improvement in glucose concentrations when their therapy is switched from animal-source insulin to human insulin.”

There are literally hundreds of bioengineered products in modern society – soybeans, corn, canola oil, beet sugar, alfalfa, potatoes, rice, pesticides, veterinary products, as well as animals like chickens, pigs, cattle, Glofish, and numerous others. Follow the link below and you can do your own search.

As I wasn’t there, I can only wonder what they talked about. Bioengineering is both widespread and except for very few objections from some organizations and individuals, it goes unremarked and we accept it without question when it has to do with medical treatments.

So what WERE they talking about?

Can’t be talking about gengineered diseases – natural mutation produces enough frightening diseases to keep us in horror novels until the end of Earth’s time.

Couldn’t have been talking about GMOs because the majority of us eat genetically modified organisms (and ignore the fact that chickens came from Asian red jungle fowl; corn came from a Mexican plant that grew one, single, 1 inch long cob (25 millimeters); and cows came from the now-extinct auroch – and no one complains about them…oh, that’s right, they were NATURALLY genetically modified. It’s called breeding. It’s what Humans do. It’s what we depend on.

Maybe they’re talking about “making people” – and aside from the fact that we only cloned healthy mice that lived normal lifespans in 2013 – Human cloning is a long, long way away. At least intentional Human cloning. The record for natural Human cloning was five – beyond that, there seem to be some barriers. The most obvious one is the size of the uterus. What if we eliminated that and were able to pop every cloned kidlet into an artificial uterus? What would be the POINT? George Lucas has never satisfactorily explained the reason behind making a “clone army”. On the face of it…it doesn’t even sound sensible. Why would you want every single soldier to have the exact same biological background? All I’d have to do is capture one, discover a violent allergen, dose the whole battlefield with it, and take over the Empire.

What about manufacturing Humans for specific jobs? We already violently object to educational tracking (ie: kids who are good at shop, take shop classes; kids who are book smart, take college classes) – mention the subject to any school board meeting that has lots of parents at it and prepare to be tarred and feathered. A politician who suggested that people with blonde hair and blue eyes are most suited to farming would be summarily labeled a “Nazi”, then tarred and feathered. What makes ANY scientist, anywhere believe that cloning Humans for particular uses would be acceptable to the American Civil Liberties Union? It wouldn’t be – though it’s something I’m exploring in my science fiction (one story is here: http://www.perihelionsf.com/1509/fiction_2.htm). I plan on more stories in this universe exploring issues of bioengineering.

So, despite the fact that we already do it, it happens naturally, and there isn’t any foreseeable, logical REASON to do it, I suppose it was fun to talk about.

Anyone there who could relate some of the issues discussed?

Program Book: http://sasquan.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/ConGuide.toupload.pdf

Resource: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/2690608, http://www.fda.gov/AnimalVeterinary/DevelopmentApprovalProcess/GeneticEngineering/GeneticallyEngineeredAnimals/default.htm,

Image: http://usercontent2.hubimg.com/5178933_f520.jpg