NEWEST STORY "Rolling Zombie Bones" with my almost-son-in-law, Ryan VanAlstine!!!!!!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5LIIQ2/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1483383744&sr=1-1&keywords=devolution+Z

My almost-son-in-law and I have a NEW STORY out! "Rolling Zombie Bones"! Today (Monday), it's strictly Kindle; tomorrow you'll be able to get the paper version!

WRITING ADVICE: What Went RIGHT With “The Baptism of Johnny Ferocious” (Dragons, Knights, and Angels, April 2006) Guy Stewart #39

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!

The first story I ever wrote for the civilization that had grown in the clouds of a gas giant world called River was “The Baptism of Johnny Ferocious”. In it, I introduced the violent nature of the “skies of River” and the society that had developed. I also established that it was in a disputed area of space called the Brink and that the Confluence of Humanity – who embrace genetic engineering; and the Empire of Man – who embraced Human purity; were in a constant state of tension.

My original intent was to examine the foundational difference of Confluan and Imperial societies and the impact that difference had on the lives of the billions who lived in each. In the Empire, you are Human only if your DNA is 65% original Human. If you don’t reach that arbitrary and “magical percentage”, you are considered non-Human and you have no rights. Stan Schmidt, former editor at ANALOG liked this idea.

“Baptism” was the first story I wrote and most likely at the beginning of the period of time I wanted to look at. In it, an independent trader flying an ancient zeppelin gets caught in a brutal storm not long after he picks up an old friend of his, a pirate like himself, who is also Muslim. During the storm, Johnny comes to terms with a faith he had been waffling in and finally asks his Muslim friend if he will perform a baptism using water that is leaking into the zep. Once the service is done, his friend has a coronary. They reach safety and all is well – but Johnny (and perhaps his friend) are changed.

The other stories in the set are, “Prince of Blood and Spit”, “Lost in the Depths”, “Into the Deaths”, and “A Choice of Sunrise”(after the Reunification of Humanity). Eventually, I’ll merge them into a novel called IN THE SKIES OF RIVER, but until then, I’m going to keep on exploring the place one story at a time. A different one called “The Daily Use of Gravity Modification in the Rebuilding of Liberian Schools” takes place in this century before Humans leave Earth for interstellar space – but the main character has the most important impact on that future. Perhaps he is more important than either the Emperor or the Confluence Parliament.

The second most important thing was that long ago, when I got serious about my writing, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t write about disposable worlds. A disposable world, like a disposable diaper, was made for a single use then gets thrown away. SF writers – in fact all writers – have been doing this since the first writer pressed a stick into soft clay. We make up places in order to make a point. I have no trouble with that and have done it myself, but it seems both wasteful and vaguely obscene to create an entire world, use it to make some mundane point, then toss it away and make another one. Aside from the fact that I enjoy reading series of stories, it seems to me to be a brand of hubris to tell a story then assume that there’s nothing else to say in that world.

In “Baptism”, its greatest strength is the world I created. But secondarily, even though the story is a decade old, Johnny Ferocious keeps coming back to me, asking if I might include him in another adventure.

As I’ve written before, creating sympathetic characters is not my strong suit. In fact, in a review of my most recent story, GH says, “The story never makes her very likable, so we don’t much care what she chooses.” (http://www.rocketstackrank.com/2016/12/The-Last-Mayan-Aristocrat-Guy-Stewart.html)

Johnny Ferocious IS memorable and sympathetic. We’ll see where I can go from here – both in creating believable stories, in a well-constructed world, with sympathetic characters!

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

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 54

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kashayla glared at him, then gave a sharp nod, “Fine then. I won’t kill you tonight. I’ll wait until after you tell us what we want to know.”

Retired held her harsh gaze, then barked a laugh. “Just like your mother! Damn, you’re tough!” He sobered suddenly, “I just hope you’re as smart as she was. We’re going to need a new genius geneticist on our team.”

I’m pretty sure both of us looked stunned, because after busting out another guffaw, he pushed himself to his feet and headed for another room. “I’m going to bed. And so are you two.” He pointed suddenly, once at each of us, adding, “Separately.”

I don’t know about ‘Shay, but I suddenly found myself blushing about six shades of red…

‘Shay walked past me, slugged me – hard this time – and said, “How else do you think I sleep?”

When she was gone, Great Uncle Rion said, “Ouch.”

“Shut up,” I said. For a second I looked at him. How much could I tell him about myself? How much did he need to know? How much about myself did I understand? I sighed and said, “Sort of.”

“Only ‘sort of’?”

“I’m kinda complicated.”

“Confused?”

I looked away from him, feeling my cheeks heat up, and shrugged. “I dunno.”

GURion nodded slowly then said, “Maybe you do need to go to bed.”

I looked up, glaring and opened my mouth. But for whatever reason, all I saw in his android eyes was compassion. “I suppose I’ll need a good night’s sleep in order to have enough energy to understand whatever crapload Retired is going to try and force feed us.”

GURion just studied me for a while. I felt like turning away at first, then stood up straighter. If he wanted to have a good long look at me, then fine. Finally, he said, “Not exactly. You’re going to need all the strength you have to believe.” He turned and left the room, gesturing silently to a door. When he was gone, I opened it. The room was small, but the bed looked clean, there was a table alongside it, and an e-reader – a full-sized one that looked like it was new. I took off the boots, went out to the bathroom I’d seen, and then went back to the room. It had been an intense night with all kinds of weird feelings churning around inside me, so I took care of the one need I could, then fell sound asleep.

I woke up the next day to someone tapping on the door. I sat bolt upright, swinging my feet to the floor before I was really awake. Rubbing my face with both hands, I scratched my head. Even with short hair, I think I needed a shower. I definitely needed to use the bathroom. I said, “Come on in.”

‘Shay walked in. She looked clean, her tight curled hair still flat against her head and wet. She said, “You look crappy.”

“Thanks for the update. I usually look great the second I wake up.”

She smirked. “I know that that is a total lie. In the past eight years, I’ve come to realize that you always look lousy when you first wake up. But I do have good news.”

“What?”

“Your great uncle has coffee – the real thing! – and he said he’s got both an explanation and a plan.”

“About time,” I said, standing up. I’d slept in my clothes, which were still filthy from being exploded on and rolled around in a field with me inside of them. Even so, I tried to straighten them out.

“Don’t worry how you look. The Pack and Herd won’t notice and I’ll make sure I sit as far from you as I can.” She led the way out.

“What about Retired?” I muttered.

“Don’t worry, he likes you no matter what you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, then walked into the meeting room. I was the last one up. Shoot daggers at ‘Shay let me know that she’d done it on purpose.

Fax slid up beside me and growled in his lowest register, “Don’t worry, I love you no matter how bad the stench. In fact, I remember you smelled a lot worse after you…”

I elbowed him before he could launch into his baked-beans story. That always sent the Pack into paroxysms of laughter. How he told it. The real story was…

Retired cleared his throat and even though his face was completely still, the look in his eyes told me he’d be on the floor laughing if it would have been a normal day. But it wasn’t. He said, “The time has come to lay all of our cards on the table.”

“What?” Dao-hi exclaimed, pulling her tentacles from their sheathes with a rude sucking sound.

Retired held up a hand, bowed his head, looked up and continued. “Just the facts there – bare bones. At this time I’m not looking for discussion, because frankly, there’s nothing anyone here – except Rion can add. Most of the plan was laid out decades ago by minds far greater than yours or mine.” He took a deep breath, held it, and gestured. One of the walls of the apartment vanished, replaced by an orbital shot of Earth. “Once the condition of the three societies became apparent – the reduction in the breeding imperative of the Kiiote, the catastrophic increase in heart-fiber deaths among the Yown’Hoo, and the unintended extermination of Humanity, it became clear to a group of all the Intelligences in this part of the Milky Way that if something didn’t change, there would be NO Intelligences left in approximately four hundred Human years.” Stunned silence. Even GURion leaned back against a wall.

“In order to stop this…Extinction Event…an assembly of scientists, philosophers, technologists, business beings, and spiritualists of all the belief systems of the three Intelligences was held in secret. It was clear to them that the eventual destruction of their peoples would bring about a Dark Age that none of them were likely to escape from. The Triads were proposed for a single purpose.” He stopped talking. None of us moved.

I didn’t even breathe until Qap said, “Prove that if we worked together, we could accomplish something none of us had managed to do apart.”

Ali-go, a Herd male I’d only known to speak one other time, said, “gMod, faster-than-light, fusion – we have all of those. There is only one thing we have not created,” he paused. Right then I knew he was going to be a Herd-father someday. He had the flair for the dramatic that was required of the males of their species. “Immortality.”

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 286

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: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DepopulationBomb

Current Event: http://www.rfdtv.com/story/34096878/metabiotas-top-five-epidemic-risk-factors-for-2017

Ngozi Adeyemi sighed and sat back from the scanning electron microscope. She said, “This machine…”

Ibrahim Eto'o Fils held up one hand, then lowered it, knowing it might be offensive as he said, “I know. It’s ancient. I’d rather have a QTM. But the Chinese aren’t exactly handing them out to West African disease researchers.”

She shook her head. “I was educated in England, worked for seven years at the CDC in Atlanta, and chaired the International Society for Infectious Diseases for six years. I’m not just a ‘disease researcher’!”

Ibrahim held up both hands in defense. “You won’t get any argument from me, Doctor Adeyemi. It’s been a privilege working…”

Ngozi brushed him away, “Save the flattery for someone who’ll believe it. You’re as skilled as I am and you’ve been here longer. We have work to do – and two of us may be the only ones who can accomplish it.” She paused. “When we finally tracked down the initial outbreak of the AIDS virus; and finally eradicated Ebola, we got cocky.”

“We didn’t,” Ibrahim said as he settled onto his lab chair. Another wave of his hand and his virtual computer screen materialized over the lab bench. “We know what we’re dealing with here. Climate change cooled Sahara and brought rain it hasn’t seen for over a thousand years. We’re afraid it’s also reactivated extinct pathogens.”

Ngozi sighed. “That’s why I came home. There’s something going on up north – it feels like a disaster waiting to happen. But there’s no proof,” she gestured at the SEM. “We’ll never get it if we have to work with stone knives and bear skins!”

Ibrahim grinned, “Thank you so much, doctor! These are the tools I used to earn my doctorate!”

Ngozi let herself lean forward until her forehead rested on the microscope’s control panel. “No offense intended, Doctor Eto’o Fils. It just frustrates me. We conquered hundreds of diseases with tools less complex than this, but I’m less afraid of disease than I am of attitude.”

Ibrahim puffed a laugh and said, “We thought we had climate change under control – and then it flipped from warming trends to cooling trends and wild solar weather.”

“We can’t control attitudes the way we can control viruses and bacteria – a few antivirals here and a vaccination campaign there. It’s this damnable community attitude.”

“That’s why I came back to Lago. So many western doctors think curing the common cold by fighting it with a molecule-evolving mutation smart drug signified that they’d claimed the Grail.”

“Monty Python and the Holy,” Ngozi said.

“I take it you experienced the movie?”

She sat up and gave him a sad grin, “With both English and American friends. You’d be startled how different their responses are.”

“How so?”

She shrugged, “I can’t quantify it. The movie was identical, but the two groups of people – all who’d seen it dozens of times – laughed at totally different places and repeated totally different lines. And I  laughed at different times from both of them! It was embarrassing both times!”

Ibrahim sighed. “We need to get back to work. I’ll get back online and see if can’t at least get a virtual QTM to work for us.”

She called up the next slide and got to work, muttering, “If we can’t beat this now, it’s going to go global in ten months.”

He shot her a look and added an emphatic plea to his email just before he sent it.

Names: ♀ Nigeria; ♂ Cameroon

Resources:  http://www.isid.org/about/council_members.shtml

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/50/Launching_of_EFT-1.jpg

Slice of PIE: Wishing you and yours a Blessed Christmas Season!

NOT using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Kansas City in August 2016 (to which I was invited and had a friend pay my membership! [Thanks, Paul!] but was unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. But not today.

This morning is a Christmas blessing – I am unabashedly a Christian who also writes science fiction…

That right there is incredibly irritating to some people both in and out of the SF field. It also signals others that because I’m a Christian, I must have voted for Trump…which I didn’t. (For the first time in my life, I refused to vote – because most of the candidates in the elections from national to local were, regardless of party orientation; rude, obnoxious, and didn’t in most ways represent me or my political views. So, I skipped the entire process. There. That’s all of the political rhetoric you’ll hear from me. Thank you.)

No matter your faith then, I wish you a blessed Christmas Season! Please accept the sentiment in the spirit in which it was given – as a good thought.

Image: http://cdn.moviestillsdb.com/sm/d30d9e54c188ed952b2b992a00d37671/the-nativity-story.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 93: Paolo At Burroughs Dome

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (70,000+ words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.

OrcAH, the local librarian blinked, then in a softer voice said, “The name ‘Ghost Dome’ is rarely used, Sir. What possible connection might the Hero of the Faith have with the manufacture of satellites?”

Paolo shrugged, scratched his chin, and said, “That’s what I want to know.” He paused then added, “I happen to know that the Hero is not dead.”

OrcAH’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened but no sound came out. The look on his face changed as well – he was no longer indifferent but stunned.

Paolo lowered his voice and leaned down, whispering, “I know this because he is my brother.”

“The Hero…”

“Yeah, I know the story – the Hero was an orphan, whose parents had been murdered by a psychotic Muslim who thought he was serving Allah by killing them. He was later taken to a Christian orphanage where he was sexually abused by a nun. After he was adopted by a Hindu family, he was forced to watch by a Buddhist…” said Paolo, waving a hand in irritation. He’d heard the recitation a thousand times. He’d been at the kitchen table when his parents concocted it.

The Librarian held up its hand. “I know the Catechism of the Faith in Humanity as well as you do, son: All life is individually autonomous; do no harm; work tirelessly to do good; act fairly. Additions come from various other works of Humanity, but if we strive to keep these four guides. What could that possibly…”

“The Ghost Dome wasn’t destroyed as an act of terrorism. It was aimed at stopping the incipient United Faith in Humanity from forcing all other competing faiths underground. Now, as to the satellite manufacture and design. I was wondering if there was any way we could match this design to something in your archives.” He held up his hand, his pocket computer projecting a three-dimensional image of the thing he’d found wedged under his marsbug out in the Depression: There was nothing that made it look like it could have landed, though one end was slightly wider than the other and there were four tapered bumps that had been placed equilaterally around it. It had also had markings under a strong green light – at 550 nanometers. They’d been incomprehensible but clearly intelligently shaped.

“Where…where did you find this?”

“North of the Grand Island Dust Sink,” said Paolo, scratching his side, a ferocious itch growing there.

“In the desert? What were you doing so far from civilization?”

Paolo sniffed, “Not so far from civilization as you’d think.”

OrcAH looked up at him, scowling, but didn’t ask the obvious question. Instead, he said, “Follow.” The little man didn’t wait for Paolo, but set off with long strides – for him – and deeper into information stored on everything from rice paper to quantum bubbles. The library itself seemed to be arranged by information storage method rather than by subject. They kept going and as they did, the light grew dimmer. The man said, “The EM spectrum in the Human visible range causes the deterioration of certain of these artifacts and books. You’ve already noticed that the humidity in the library is substantially lower than in typical Human habitation.”

“I did notice,” he said, scratching at an elbow. The light dimmed further. “Where are we going?” he asked. Abruptly the librarian stopped in front of a blank wall. It glowed faintly blue.

“This is a special archive we maintain here. It contains certain artifacts discovered on the surface of Mars.” He passed his hand over a section of the wall and it became transparent. “The atmosphere mimics the natural atmosphere on the planet, though the pressure is Earth-normal. The lights are tuned to natural Martian light and varies seasonally as well. We do not mimic the winds on the surface.”

“Why…” Paolo said. Then he saw them. On a long stone table stood three squarish, smooth slabs of Martian stone. On each, he could see some sort of pattern. Nothing that would suggest letters or images or hash marks. But there had been marked.

“We have studied these three – we call them the Stele – by exposing them to the entire length of the EM spectrum. But there is only one kind of energy that reveals what are admittedly ancient marking. Even under this energy, they are barely discernible…”

“Ultrasound,” Paolo whispered.

Without missing a beat, OrcAH whispered, “Ultrasound.”

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kB5wP5o5VuzbhQVDthrqJohh8uL52IGDt84n3dGhkCI-t4RMfYH8kx-KjMU4CpHSKfJBCYAuX3Vx2BD_SMD5j06A-Tm_tz_6b29Ohv5Dkl5xtNoaecKLHOMkCWDbP_RrQZrjnatLx0A/s1600/Astronauta+Marcos+C%C3%A9sar+Pontes.bmp

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 285

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

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: What Does It Mean to Be Human?

POSTING LATE TODAY DUE TO THE MARRIAGE OF MY LOVELY NIECE! Congratulations Jessica and Jorge!!!!

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Kansas City in August 2016 (to which I was invited and had a friend pay my membership! [Thanks, Paul!] but was unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #2270. The link is provided below…

Whose DNA is It? Panelists discuss DNA, privacy and the law. What can be done with your DNA without your permission, and what is your recourse if you discover yours has been used?

Marguerite Kenner: Story teller from CAST OF WONDERS (who read one of my stories, long ago!) also British lawyer

Mr. Howard Rosenblatt: Lawyer from Gainesville, FL

Kenneth Schneyer: prolific short story writer

Dr. Helen Pennington: “Helen Pennington, a doctoral training student at Imperial College London” (July 2015, Royal Society for Biology Blog, https://blog.rsb.org.uk/science-fact-for-fiction/

The obvious “textbook” for this discussion is THE IMMORTAL LIFE OF HENRIETTA LACKS (Rebecca Skloot) and the answer is, “nothing”. Not really. Not yet.

Even so, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this and in my RIVER Universe books, the Confluence of Humanity has no trouble genetically re-engineering Humanity to fit whatever purpose is needed. In the short story I’m working on now, the main character will soon find out he has a clone brother – one who has been engineered into a kilometer wide manta ray creature with a bladder in the center that contains an nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere – and can be used as an ambulance in the atmosphere of the gas giant, River.

Are they still related? Genetically, yes. Was he informed about the use of his DNA to create another, alien-like Human? Absolutely not. But he was soldier and was ordered to sign away his rights to his DNA. He didn’t care, so he did. The military had a clear purpose though. Did I mention he was a direct-line descendant of Henrietta Lacks? No? Oops. Turns out the HeLa cells are also perfectly cloneable.

Anyway, this is a discussion I probably would have skipped initially, but now that I’ve had time to ponder the PERSONAL implications of genetic engineering, I’d have taken it up in a heartbeat.

Another reason would also be that the conflict in my stories will arise primarily from the fact that the opposition to the Confluence is the Empire of Man. Imperials have set a clear divider between those who are Human and those who are not. If your DNA is less than 65% original Human, you are not Human – and subsequently either a slave or “livestock”.

In a completely different direction, I’ll also add that during the Civil War, children were not regarded as Human, either. It wasn’t until 1874 that the US was able to prosecute a case of child abuse…under the auspices of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Children weren’t granted legal rights in England in the late 1760s.

So, I often explore what it means to BE Human. In fact, I’ve discovered that as a theme, it rises up in several pieces of my published writing. Looking at the stories I’ve done in the “What Went Right” series – even when I look at the “Can This Story Be Saved?” – I see that I’m trying to do the same thing. Just not as effectively.

Take-away? I guess to take advantage of opportunities to learn, even if you’re not certain that you can use the ideas in your writing. You never know!

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

Image: https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2785/4415285860_462c8078e7_z.jpg?zz=1

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 53

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh (ret) – whom we called Retired – said, “There was no solution in war.”

Suddenly ‘Shay said, “The only answer was peace.” I stared at her. When she said the words, her voice had changed. Her stance had changed. I didn’t recognize her.

But I did grasp the implication and all I could whisper was, “And we were the offerings of peace.”

I barely heard Great Uncle Rion say, “No one knows yet if the offering is one of honey…or one of blood.”

Nobody said a word for a long time. Finally Retired sighed and said, “We need to get some sleep. We’ve got a twenty-kilometer hike to do tomorrow.”

Normally, I would have been shocked; probably said something stupid. Almost for sure, ‘Shay would have slugged me. Instead, I nodded and said, “We need to get to safety. All nineteen of us.” I shook my head, looked at GURion and said, “Twenty-one of us.”

“You really want me to go with you?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. You stuck with my family for a century – but never bothered to let me know that you were…” I don’t know if it was quite right, but I figured I could cut him some slack, “…alive. You could have told me about Rion and my dad; hell, maybe you even knew Mom.” For a second, it seemed like something caught in my throat. I cleared it. “I haven’t seen either one of them since I was seven and they brought me to the Arena.”

“You were recruited,” GURion began.

I chopped him off, “I was never asked. My parents volunteered me for the Triad. I never had…” GURion cleared his own throat, though for an android, it wasn’t exactly a natural reflex. I couldn’t help but give him a dirty look when I said, “What?”

“You weren’t just recruited. You were made. All of you were.”

‘Shay turned to him now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, “Exactly what it sounds like. All nineteen members of this Triad – as well as the Eurasian Triad and the African Triad – have long genealogies. You were literally made for this moment.”

“What moment is this?” I asked.

GURion suddenly turned his gaze to Retired and gestured, palm up, “Ask one of the architects of the plan.”

Retired sighed, sinking his face into his broad hand. A thumb and a pinky finger massaged his temples. I expected denial. Anger. Maybe even Retired jumping up and blowing GURion away. Instead he said, “You could have at least waited for morning.”

My great uncle shrugged, “It doesn’t matter down here.”

“True, but I wouldn’t feel so…” he paused.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘old’, Patrick.”

A smile twitched his stubbly face. For a second I saw him as just some old guy; and my great uncle was right. Retired looked old. And tired. But he didn’t look like he was going to give up. He lifted his chin and said, “Computer?”

A voice floated form the walls, “Yes, Lieutenant Commander Bahksh?”

“Status of the Kiiote Pack and the Yown’Hoo Herd?”

“Both groups are eighty-five percent asleep, Sir.”

“Thanks.” He looked at me, then GURion, “I think we wait until morning then for a full briefing.” He looked at ‘Shay, then to me. “It’s not going to be a complete briefing yet, because there are still things you aren’t cleared to know. But it should go a long way to answering where we are, where we’re going, and – now that things have started heating up – who are the beings opposing the formation and training of the Triads.”

‘Shay glared at him, then gave a sharp nod, “Fine then. I won’t kill you tonight. I’ll wait until after you tell us what we want to know.”

Retired held her harsh gaze, then barked a laugh. “Just like your mother! Damn, you’re tough!” He sobered suddenly, “I just hope you’re as smart as she was. We’re going to need a new genius geneticist on our team.”

I’m pretty sure both of us looked stunned, because after busting out another guffaw, he pushed himself to his feet and headed for another room. “I’m going to bed. And so are you two.” He pointed suddenly, once at each of us, adding, “Separately.”

I don’t know about ‘Shay, but I suddenly found myself blushing about six shades of red…

(4 miles NE of Plum Coulee, MB; southwest of Winnipeg)

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

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 284

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

F Trope: transmutation (reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transmutation)

“Transmutation circle, a circle used to perform alchemy” I think I’m going to mine THIS idea in various ways for a while!

Current Event: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZjp32EiTzM

Alchemy is thought to have been the deepest roots of the science we know as chemistry. As such, it had its origins in many, many cultures – from Pharaonic and Hellenic Egypt, Eighth Century Arabia (the name “chemistry” comes from an Arabic word, al-kimia), Medieval and Renaissance Europe, India, and China – then matured into the science.

Ishaq ibn Musa and Meitreyi Nur Jehan are friends at Obama Middle School. Ishaq – who tries really hard to go by the nickname, IM – was skimming TreeFlicks (3D online streaming videos) when he downloaded a flik of a person drawing a transmutation circle.

He got the measurements and veeked – visually communicated – with Meity J and told him to meet him at a nearby playground after school...

Meity waited for Immy with her arms folded over his chest. It was cold today, even though it was late August. “So much for Anthropogenic Global Cooling,” he muttered. He veeked him again, but he wasn’t answering.

Suddenly someone behind him shouted, “Boo!”

Meity J turned around and said, “It’s not even close to Halloween yet Immy.”

He grunted and said, “Who spat in your bean curd?”

“No one! It’s just that I have a hundred things to do before school starts next Tuesday!”

“Like what? We’re just starting a new school. Nothing’s going to be different...”

“Except in high school, we might actually get to see a physical teacher!”

He grunted and put down a small plastic bucket. His jacket bulged in odd directions, as if he were carrying packages underneath. “That has about as much of a chance happening as me turning you into an oriole.”

“Orioles are extinct,” he said, irritated that he chose NOW to pick on her favorite extinct animal. “That was really mean of you.”

“What,” he said, straightening up, “If I told you I could turn a pigeon into an oriole?”

“I’d say, ‘fat lot of good that will do the species!’ You can’t repopulate a species with one bird, stupid!”

With a flourish, he reached under his jacket and pulled out a plastic box. Inside, something brilliantly orange and black squirmed. He said, “What if you had one male and one female?” 

He popped the top off and an oriole – the first one Meity J had seen since he was a kindergartner and his director had used query markers on colorful birds to lead the class to a discussion about ‘extinction’ – flew out. He removed another box. This one had a pigeon in it.

“What are you going to do with that thing?”

He grinned, set the box down and started clearing a circle on the concrete game square. “We’re going to make a transmutation square and start making orioles out of pigeons!”

Meity J scowled for a bit, then said…

Names: ♂♂ -- Yemen, Pakistan

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