I know it's been done, maybe to death as a sci-fi thing. But what about a character focused take on it?
What would humanity look like to an outside race? We look at other cultures like they're some form of alien creation rather than a divergent track of evolution. So, thinking further afield than that, what would we look like to an alien species?
First, what would we focus on? the culture is going to go right over the heads of most of any external viewers, it'll all just look insane. But how about the larger issues? Oh, and why should it matter? Damn, now I have another story line I need to shelf and come back to.
One story at a time.
I'll get back to work here.
Daniel.
June 30, 2010
June 29, 2010
A humbling point has been made.
In the interests of complete honesty, I have cross posted this on both blogs, here and here, because I put it up on the writing site, then felt that it might be better situated on the how to deal with life side of my whining. Back to the actual typing now.
Ok, wow.
I was just thinking lately about what I was feeling and how overwhelming life has been of late.
Then I read this post. Humbling. I'll just shut my whiney-butted self down and get to work. Sometimes I need an external view point showing that I'm not the only one in the boat I'm trying to sink.
Thanks Rowena.
http://madgeniusclub.blogspot.com/2010/06/warning-whinge-post.html
Ok, wow.
I was just thinking lately about what I was feeling and how overwhelming life has been of late.
Then I read this post. Humbling. I'll just shut my whiney-butted self down and get to work. Sometimes I need an external view point showing that I'm not the only one in the boat I'm trying to sink.
Thanks Rowena.
http://madgeniusclub.blogspot.com/2010/06/warning-whinge-post.html
Humbling. I'll just sit my whiney-butted self down and get to work. Sometimes I need an external view point showing that I'm not the only one in the boat I'm trying to sink.
Six kids and chaos, and they've still not let her alone to write "uninterrupted" *sigh* guess I'm being unrealistic in asking my two to leave me alone more.
I could go on and on about the meaning of life, supportive partners, troublesome teens, etc, etc, etc, but it all really boils down to me and my choices doesn't it.
I choose to stay up too late, work too much, then have to take care of the things that go bump (or more often, WHAAAAA!) in the night, so that I don't get enough sleep and then I lose out. I'm aiming for big things, but that's not going to happen, hours of uninterrupted time, yeah... in my dreams, literally.
How about this tactic. I go to bed on time at night, and get up with the sun in the morning, work then? That sounds more manageable, and hey, I might even get more good work done, maybe.
Anyhow, with six stories on the build, wasting time rambling around on a blog site is really wasted time if I'm learning anything.
Later.
Daniel
June 22, 2010
Huh. Well, that didn't work out as well as I'd hoped
The title sums it all up.
I feel like a handfull of darts that were thrown off a cliff, I'm fracturing and heading off in too many directions all at one time.
I posted the other day about trying to re-dedicate myself to a goal or two, and since then I've been scattering worse than a handful of marbles in a skateboard pool.
I wanted to focus on writing, but all I'm doing is reading about writing, and not even really helpful stuff, but more like blogs and other things that while entertaining, are hardly useful for the actual act of writing.
So, in an effort to actually get things back on track, I'm cutting down the readling list to two blogs that I find highly entertaining, the first is here,
http://madgeniusclub.blogspot.com/
and the second is here
http://blog.bookviewcafe.com/
There are also other places that I will go if I need to find things out, liek submission rules and such, but in the main, reading blogs is out. I have things to write, stuff to do and a family and a job both of which are more in need of my time than self-ammusement on the internet.
And on that note, Later.
Dan.
I feel like a handfull of darts that were thrown off a cliff, I'm fracturing and heading off in too many directions all at one time.
I posted the other day about trying to re-dedicate myself to a goal or two, and since then I've been scattering worse than a handful of marbles in a skateboard pool.
I wanted to focus on writing, but all I'm doing is reading about writing, and not even really helpful stuff, but more like blogs and other things that while entertaining, are hardly useful for the actual act of writing.
So, in an effort to actually get things back on track, I'm cutting down the readling list to two blogs that I find highly entertaining, the first is here,
http://madgeniusclub.blogspot.com/
and the second is here
http://blog.bookviewcafe.com/
There are also other places that I will go if I need to find things out, liek submission rules and such, but in the main, reading blogs is out. I have things to write, stuff to do and a family and a job both of which are more in need of my time than self-ammusement on the internet.
And on that note, Later.
Dan.
June 07, 2010
Awakening, Clarification, and Re-dedication.
Well, the trip to Vancouver wasn't as productive as I thought it might be, seeing as how I was suddenly riding herd on the bulk of the boys on the trip, and the simple nature of the beast is that I was the driver, the one in charge, the navigator and one of only two men in the whole sequence of things that was willing to go.
So, in short, not a blessed moment to write.
I made a choice to try for 2500 words per day, and at my current rate of typing, I'm now about 17,500 behind, or will be by the end of tonight.
Oh, and because I'm too tired and lazy to count them all out, I'm having to type them.
So, to recap, the objective is 2500 typed words per day, of whatever format. Some day's I'll do better, other day's will be a push to simply catch up on what I've missed. But the ever present push and counter will keep me writing.. I really want this to happen, and I dont' know any better way to do that than to type, and type, and type.. you get the idea.
Some ground rules,
Anything I type for work doesn't count, no matter what.
Anything I put up on a blog for technical support or something (Sometimes I _do_ give back to the tech forums) doesn't count.
Instant Messaging doesn't count
Any replies to other's blogs or online forums doesn't count.
Having given the general idea, now for what will count.
Things like this post will count, original writing, posted or not will count, scripts, commentary on life, etc, etc.
To count, the words must be part of an original creation, or an addition to an original creation, not just the chaff of life.
Now, having said that, I have to get back to work, showed up late, leaving early, you know the story.
Later
Andre.
So, in short, not a blessed moment to write.
I made a choice to try for 2500 words per day, and at my current rate of typing, I'm now about 17,500 behind, or will be by the end of tonight.
Oh, and because I'm too tired and lazy to count them all out, I'm having to type them.
So, to recap, the objective is 2500 typed words per day, of whatever format. Some day's I'll do better, other day's will be a push to simply catch up on what I've missed. But the ever present push and counter will keep me writing.. I really want this to happen, and I dont' know any better way to do that than to type, and type, and type.. you get the idea.
Some ground rules,
Anything I type for work doesn't count, no matter what.
Anything I put up on a blog for technical support or something (Sometimes I _do_ give back to the tech forums) doesn't count.
Instant Messaging doesn't count
Any replies to other's blogs or online forums doesn't count.
Having given the general idea, now for what will count.
Things like this post will count, original writing, posted or not will count, scripts, commentary on life, etc, etc.
To count, the words must be part of an original creation, or an addition to an original creation, not just the chaff of life.
Now, having said that, I have to get back to work, showed up late, leaving early, you know the story.
Later
Andre.
May 31, 2010
Joe's Enlightenment
Dust. Mud or dust. The only two things in this damned country. That and cows. God I wish I had never agreed with Carol to move out here for the baby. The house on the hill, and the countryside is a good thing, it's much better than the cramped quarters we had in the city back east. But, damnit I miss the life, the energy, the excitement. It's boring here. Yesterday I got up and walked the dusty street to the bank to work. Today I get up, walk the dusty street to the bank. And tomorrow I'll get up and walk the dusty street to the bank to work. It's enough to kill a man's soul. There's nothing going on.
Lost in these thoughts, I almost walked into the town's sheriff.
“Morning John, something bothering you today?”
“Huh? Oh g'day sheriff.”
“You almost walked into me John, that's not like you. Something wrong?”
“Not really, just missing my old life; the action, the nightlife, the city.”
“I see, trouble adjusting to the lifestyle.”
I looked up at the sheriff's sharp assessment, thinking about what he had said. I found myself unconsciously nodding my head in agreement.
“Well John, I know it's not what you're used to, but we're glad you're here anyhow.” With that I watched the Sheriff turned and crossed the dusty sleepy street to the jailhouse where his office was.
I continued my silent mental tirade as I continued to the bank, where I would sit handle other peoples money and problems all day long.
* * *
Earl's in already, at least I'll have somebody to talk to this morning.
I walked through the main lobby, dropping my hat carelessly onto a chari before checking over the safe and the teller windows. A voice sounded from the back room,
“That you John?”
'Yeah, how're you doin' Earl?”
“Not bad, Jinny filled me up good this morning, bacon and the works. Lord but that woman can cook.”
As I stepped through to the back office where the main safe was kept, I saw Earl tallying up the previous days railway deposit from train before we shipped it out this afternoon on the separate coaches for ranches and smaller towns that didn't have a rail line through them.
“Earl, looks like you're having a good time, did you want me to get you a coffee?”
“Sure thing, I'm just about done here, then I'll lock it back in the safe and we can get on with the day.”
I winced as I considered just what that meant. I moved to fill two coffee cups from the pot on the woodstove, another day in the bank watching the dust settle
As I reached out for coffee pot on the stove there was a sound in the front room, a couple of rowdy boys.
Odd, people around here don't usually sound like that this early in the day, I thought as I turned away from the stove to see what was happening. As I turned, I saw Earl disappear through the door to the front room.
“No funny stuff, open the safe and we don't shoot you old man!” My head jolted up and my senses became acutely alert as the harsh words came through the open door. I could hear Earl's sigh and a slight whimpering sound that I could only guess came from the elderly bank manager.
Trying to be as silent as possible, I shifted my weight, leaning so that I could see something through the door. The dry dusty air tickled my nose and I had to fight down a sudden urge to sneeze.
I could hear Earl fumbling with the combination lock on the smaller front room safe, and hoping that Earl had the two men's undivided attention I risked shifting my feet ever so slightly. Ah.. there. I could see both of them, standing at the open business desk beside the teller windows. With the office at the side of the building, I was behind and to the right of both the bandits. I could just see Earl's head above the desktop as he bent to try the safe again.
The two bandits were armed, the taller one with a shotgun, and the shorter one that appeared to be in charge was holding a revolver.
Suddenly the old farmiliar adrenaline kicked in, it was like I was back on the street in good old New York city. Could I get them disabled before one of them got off a shot? The safest course of action would be to sneak out the back and round up the sherrif, but as my wife always told me, I was never one for the smartest or safest option.
Again, could I do this without endangering Earl? I didn't have a gun on me, the only one we had in the bank was secured under the counter at the far side of the building.. what could I use?
There! That will work... I snatched up the slight iron signpost that I was supposed to be rehanging later on today, it was about five feet in lenght, and about fifteen pounds all told.
Now, how best to do this? The shotgun is far more dangerous in these confines.. I'll have to take him down first..
Matching thought to sequence, I rapidly took the two steps from the door to the counter, swinging the iron bar in a short arc, straight into the shotgun holder's forearm, hearing the bone spinter with a wet squishy sound, and once the first bandit's arm had absorbed all the momentum of the inital swing, I reversed the iron bar's trajectory and brought it around in a three-quarter circle, connecting with the short ribs of the second gunman while he was still registering my appearance from the back office.
In just under five seconds, both men were injured, I had clamped my hand over the revolver and snatched it out of the second bandit's hand as I connected the iron bar with his ribs, while the first bandit was howling in pain at his newly broken forearn, the shotgun dropped and all but forgotten.
Earl, quick to capitalize on the change in fortunes, took the chance to snatch the shotgun from where it had landed on the floor, reversing it to cover both the bandits as he hollered out the front door of the bank for somebody to fetch the sheriff.
* * *
“That was quick work there John,” the sherrif commented shrewdly, “almost looked like you had done this sort of thing before.”
“Yes and no sheriff, I used to be on the police force back in New York, but not anything like this. Mainly we did patrols and occasionally had to deal with some small gang fights.”
“Would you ever consider taking up the old trade?”
Earl butted his way in at this point, ignoring my existence entirely. “ Sheriff, I want him here, where he can do the most good.”
“I know that's how you feel Earl, but I have to ask him directly, not you.”
Earl turned to me at this point, “I know you think it's boring out here, and that there is little or no excitement in our lives, but this kind of thing happens at least every couple of months, that's why I was so happy to have you here in the first place, and besides, you can always help out the sherrif on the slow days around here.”
I found myself grinning as the adrenaline let-down left me relaxed and restless. Normally I would be twitchy, but for some reason, I think I understand why a middle aged ex-cop looking to have children and settle down, could do worse than to work in a small western frontier bank.
Looking back and forth from Earl to the Sherrif, I came to a realization that peace and quiet wasn't such a bad thing, as long as there was some excitement to be had occasionally.
“Don't worry Earl, I'm not going anywhere.” As I said this, I shifted my weight in the chair and took another drink of the harsh black coffee that was such a part of the atmosphere around here as the mud and the smell of dusty cattle.
I don't think I'll let her know it just yet, but I guess Carol knew me, and knew what we needed better than I did in choosing this godforsaken country. I guess I really don't regret agreeing with here to move out here for the baby.
* * * * * * * *
Author's comments - I know this is almost a week late, so sue me, I've got kids and all kinds of other crap to deal with. But the truth is that I had to fight like heck to take this out of third person and put it into first person. That's what took so much time, how to get the sense to gel in first person. Secondly, I just didn't have the time to do this kind of stuff. The main idea of the story was to show a man faced with a compromise in life for his family, coming to accept and even appreciate the compromise, rather than resenting it. A nebulous thought to base a story on, but you should see the plot structures of the novel's I'm planning, such things as the emptyness of space and how it fills up a man, giving him a reason for acceptance. That kind of stuff.
Andre.
Lost in these thoughts, I almost walked into the town's sheriff.
“Morning John, something bothering you today?”
“Huh? Oh g'day sheriff.”
“You almost walked into me John, that's not like you. Something wrong?”
“Not really, just missing my old life; the action, the nightlife, the city.”
“I see, trouble adjusting to the lifestyle.”
I looked up at the sheriff's sharp assessment, thinking about what he had said. I found myself unconsciously nodding my head in agreement.
“Well John, I know it's not what you're used to, but we're glad you're here anyhow.” With that I watched the Sheriff turned and crossed the dusty sleepy street to the jailhouse where his office was.
I continued my silent mental tirade as I continued to the bank, where I would sit handle other peoples money and problems all day long.
* * *
Earl's in already, at least I'll have somebody to talk to this morning.
I walked through the main lobby, dropping my hat carelessly onto a chari before checking over the safe and the teller windows. A voice sounded from the back room,
“That you John?”
'Yeah, how're you doin' Earl?”
“Not bad, Jinny filled me up good this morning, bacon and the works. Lord but that woman can cook.”
As I stepped through to the back office where the main safe was kept, I saw Earl tallying up the previous days railway deposit from train before we shipped it out this afternoon on the separate coaches for ranches and smaller towns that didn't have a rail line through them.
“Earl, looks like you're having a good time, did you want me to get you a coffee?”
“Sure thing, I'm just about done here, then I'll lock it back in the safe and we can get on with the day.”
I winced as I considered just what that meant. I moved to fill two coffee cups from the pot on the woodstove, another day in the bank watching the dust settle
As I reached out for coffee pot on the stove there was a sound in the front room, a couple of rowdy boys.
Odd, people around here don't usually sound like that this early in the day, I thought as I turned away from the stove to see what was happening. As I turned, I saw Earl disappear through the door to the front room.
“No funny stuff, open the safe and we don't shoot you old man!” My head jolted up and my senses became acutely alert as the harsh words came through the open door. I could hear Earl's sigh and a slight whimpering sound that I could only guess came from the elderly bank manager.
Trying to be as silent as possible, I shifted my weight, leaning so that I could see something through the door. The dry dusty air tickled my nose and I had to fight down a sudden urge to sneeze.
I could hear Earl fumbling with the combination lock on the smaller front room safe, and hoping that Earl had the two men's undivided attention I risked shifting my feet ever so slightly. Ah.. there. I could see both of them, standing at the open business desk beside the teller windows. With the office at the side of the building, I was behind and to the right of both the bandits. I could just see Earl's head above the desktop as he bent to try the safe again.
The two bandits were armed, the taller one with a shotgun, and the shorter one that appeared to be in charge was holding a revolver.
Suddenly the old farmiliar adrenaline kicked in, it was like I was back on the street in good old New York city. Could I get them disabled before one of them got off a shot? The safest course of action would be to sneak out the back and round up the sherrif, but as my wife always told me, I was never one for the smartest or safest option.
Again, could I do this without endangering Earl? I didn't have a gun on me, the only one we had in the bank was secured under the counter at the far side of the building.. what could I use?
There! That will work... I snatched up the slight iron signpost that I was supposed to be rehanging later on today, it was about five feet in lenght, and about fifteen pounds all told.
Now, how best to do this? The shotgun is far more dangerous in these confines.. I'll have to take him down first..
Matching thought to sequence, I rapidly took the two steps from the door to the counter, swinging the iron bar in a short arc, straight into the shotgun holder's forearm, hearing the bone spinter with a wet squishy sound, and once the first bandit's arm had absorbed all the momentum of the inital swing, I reversed the iron bar's trajectory and brought it around in a three-quarter circle, connecting with the short ribs of the second gunman while he was still registering my appearance from the back office.
In just under five seconds, both men were injured, I had clamped my hand over the revolver and snatched it out of the second bandit's hand as I connected the iron bar with his ribs, while the first bandit was howling in pain at his newly broken forearn, the shotgun dropped and all but forgotten.
Earl, quick to capitalize on the change in fortunes, took the chance to snatch the shotgun from where it had landed on the floor, reversing it to cover both the bandits as he hollered out the front door of the bank for somebody to fetch the sheriff.
* * *
“That was quick work there John,” the sherrif commented shrewdly, “almost looked like you had done this sort of thing before.”
“Yes and no sheriff, I used to be on the police force back in New York, but not anything like this. Mainly we did patrols and occasionally had to deal with some small gang fights.”
“Would you ever consider taking up the old trade?”
Earl butted his way in at this point, ignoring my existence entirely. “ Sheriff, I want him here, where he can do the most good.”
“I know that's how you feel Earl, but I have to ask him directly, not you.”
Earl turned to me at this point, “I know you think it's boring out here, and that there is little or no excitement in our lives, but this kind of thing happens at least every couple of months, that's why I was so happy to have you here in the first place, and besides, you can always help out the sherrif on the slow days around here.”
I found myself grinning as the adrenaline let-down left me relaxed and restless. Normally I would be twitchy, but for some reason, I think I understand why a middle aged ex-cop looking to have children and settle down, could do worse than to work in a small western frontier bank.
Looking back and forth from Earl to the Sherrif, I came to a realization that peace and quiet wasn't such a bad thing, as long as there was some excitement to be had occasionally.
“Don't worry Earl, I'm not going anywhere.” As I said this, I shifted my weight in the chair and took another drink of the harsh black coffee that was such a part of the atmosphere around here as the mud and the smell of dusty cattle.
I don't think I'll let her know it just yet, but I guess Carol knew me, and knew what we needed better than I did in choosing this godforsaken country. I guess I really don't regret agreeing with here to move out here for the baby.
* * * * * * * *
Author's comments - I know this is almost a week late, so sue me, I've got kids and all kinds of other crap to deal with. But the truth is that I had to fight like heck to take this out of third person and put it into first person. That's what took so much time, how to get the sense to gel in first person. Secondly, I just didn't have the time to do this kind of stuff. The main idea of the story was to show a man faced with a compromise in life for his family, coming to accept and even appreciate the compromise, rather than resenting it. A nebulous thought to base a story on, but you should see the plot structures of the novel's I'm planning, such things as the emptyness of space and how it fills up a man, giving him a reason for acceptance. That kind of stuff.
Andre.
May 18, 2010
It's all about happiness
“Commander, there seems to be a problem”
This blunt statement interrupted my pleasant reverie of last night's entertainment. “Joe? We've been on this crate together for your entire adult life, can't you relax the formality just a little? My name is Sam.”
“Yes comm..., sorry, Sam.” came the reply from inside the headset of my science officer.
Don't get me wrong, Joe is a good enough cat, but he tends towards the formal slant, and it does get on one's nerves after a while. Oh, there he goes, shifting around again, the poor guy needs to learn how to use his periphial vision, it would save him sore necks.
“Joe? There was a problem?” I thought that it would be prudent to remind him of his original statement.
“Problem? Oh, right. We're running out of fuel. There's no way we will ever make that dual star configeration we were headed for without resupplying somewhere.”
I sighed as I heard this; Joe was always so dramatic. Despite our mandate to explore the dual star system, we always needed to stop, refuel and resupply somewhere before we can continue. There must be some species somewhere that we can use.
As I looked over the sensors at the planetary system we were approaching, I had to flick my ears in frustration. What a horrid little system. There were only one or two major bodies, a dull yellowed little sun, and lots of hardened cold little rock systems farther out from the two bigger gaseous ones.
Muttering to myself, I considered the idea that the whole crew was going to be upset about this stopover. Well, best get the formalities over with.
"This is First Commander, Delta Pride, your leader. We are running low on fuel and must stop in the star system we're approaching, we will be dropping from trans-leap at the end of this cycle, at that point every able body is summoned to the Agridome for a briefing."
The muttering starts as I switch the announcement system off. I can hear the worried grumbling rumbling through the massive ship as the crew members start fidgeting. The steel frames of the spaceborn vessel shift and start to vibrate as the preparations for a transition back to normal space begin. It's as though the ship herself is purring to calm us all down.
* * *
“Run the scans Joe, is everybody headed to the AgriDome?”
“Yes Commander” I heard Joe's reply, his clipped tone indicating a level of distraction I could not define.
“Joe, enough with the commander crap” I followed this with a growl low in my throat to make my point.
“Huh? What?” Joe seemed flustered for a moment. “Oh, sorry Sam, distracted; there seems to be nothing on any of these planets. I'm worried that we might have to revert to the standby of generating our own fuel.”
“That's a chance we'll have to take,” I paused while I stared at the displays showing the local star system, “but it's not like we have a choice, we have to refuel or we'll be stuck between stars where we can't downshift to take on more fuel. Remember what happened to Beta Pride? They never came back to normal space when this happened to them.”
“Right, it's now or never. Guess I'll start scanning for sentience, or at least somewhere warm that we can recoup and recover while we refuel.” Joe turned away, effectively ending the conversation as he donned the headset and reconnected with the scanning systems.
* * *
Standing on the mount before the assembled crew, I slowly stretched out from nose to tail, in full view of all assembled, then I began.
“I am pleased that you consented to this gathering, I assume everyone received their personal collectors as they arrived?” A gentle jingling of metal tags on collars was the reply as I paused to assess the mass of furry crew members.
“I have some good news for you all. There is a single planet in this system that has sentient life on it, they are bipedal and have no significant personal defences.” I paused as the positive emotional response rolled across the collective mental link.
“The second part of this good news is that we can trigger the positive energy needed to fill our collectors and get these aliens to give us all the fuel we need to completely refill the ships holds.” The wave of positive response across the communal line was almost euphoric.
I continued, “All we have to do is make physical contact with these aliens, snuggle up close to them, and start our own healing cycle, purring for all we're worth. This will result in a reciprocal action from thealiens, thus filling your collectors. Now, go and make these aliens happy.”
I left the speech where it lay and moved off the mount, heading back to the command deck.
* * *
“One of your better landings Joe.”
“Thanks Sam,” Joe looked pleased at my compliment, “I better go get my collectors and head out. The ghost crew take care of our ship until we get back.”
I watched Joe as he bounded out the hatch, off to explore this warm blue and green planet, I envied him his freedom as I was only going to be able to head out for a cycle or so before I was needed back here to direct the flow of energy back to the holding tanks.
* * * One week later * * *
"Well, Joe? Did you enjoy your shore leave?" Naturally I was addressing the other feline's back, as his head was immersed in the sensor readout array.
His answer, muffled as usual, basically sounded affirmative. I turned back to the macro-screens, watching as the little blue green marble of a planet receeded into the distance. Noticing the impending trans-leap line approacting just past that big ringed red planet, I sighed. The details of being Commander were getting tiring, maybe it was time to revert to my previous post of Medical Tech and let somebody else try to run things for a while.
"This is First Commander, Delta Pride. We will be engaging trans-leap in seven minutes, we're full up and on the way out. Brace yourselves until trans-leap's engaged and then it's a couple hundred cycles until we get to the twin stars that were our destination. It's good to have you all back. Alpha Delta out.” I snapped off the communication system and slumped back onto the command couch.
“Joe, can you keep an eye on things for a bit, I am going to catch a quick cat nap.”
Not waiting for a reply I closed my eyes, tucked my nose under my tail and let the exhaustion claim me.
* * *
“Aya Fisk reporting live from the scene of the recent upheaval. Some are calling this a divine intervention, others an extra-terrestrial preliminary assessment, and still others are claiming this is the beginning of the end predicted in so many religions. Being objective I will not endorse any of those views. What I can say is that the spherical ship touched down just outside the historical city of Jerusalem, and millions of what appeared to be housecats flooded out of the ship. They commenced climbing up on anyone they could find and simply purring for hours at a time.
The unexpected side effect of this is that for the first time in decades there is absolutely no conflict in this recently war torn middle-eastern region. Even the Gaza Strip is silent as people wander around with grins on their faces. Then, after about a week of this behaviour by the alien cats, they all simply swarmed back into their ship and it floated back up into the starry night and they were gone. I guess if we could all just relax and chill out then there really would be no more reason to fight so much.
Aya Fisk, signing off, it's time for my cat-nap.”
* * *
Author's thought.
This entire story was written based on the question, “Why does this cat climb up on my chest and purr, not letting me so much as clean up the house. I have to sit here while he purrs and naps.”
I know it doesn't work scientifically, or on so many other levels, but there you have it. Peace and God Bless.
This blunt statement interrupted my pleasant reverie of last night's entertainment. “Joe? We've been on this crate together for your entire adult life, can't you relax the formality just a little? My name is Sam.”
“Yes comm..., sorry, Sam.” came the reply from inside the headset of my science officer.
Don't get me wrong, Joe is a good enough cat, but he tends towards the formal slant, and it does get on one's nerves after a while. Oh, there he goes, shifting around again, the poor guy needs to learn how to use his periphial vision, it would save him sore necks.
“Joe? There was a problem?” I thought that it would be prudent to remind him of his original statement.
“Problem? Oh, right. We're running out of fuel. There's no way we will ever make that dual star configeration we were headed for without resupplying somewhere.”
I sighed as I heard this; Joe was always so dramatic. Despite our mandate to explore the dual star system, we always needed to stop, refuel and resupply somewhere before we can continue. There must be some species somewhere that we can use.
As I looked over the sensors at the planetary system we were approaching, I had to flick my ears in frustration. What a horrid little system. There were only one or two major bodies, a dull yellowed little sun, and lots of hardened cold little rock systems farther out from the two bigger gaseous ones.
Muttering to myself, I considered the idea that the whole crew was going to be upset about this stopover. Well, best get the formalities over with.
"This is First Commander, Delta Pride, your leader. We are running low on fuel and must stop in the star system we're approaching, we will be dropping from trans-leap at the end of this cycle, at that point every able body is summoned to the Agridome for a briefing."
The muttering starts as I switch the announcement system off. I can hear the worried grumbling rumbling through the massive ship as the crew members start fidgeting. The steel frames of the spaceborn vessel shift and start to vibrate as the preparations for a transition back to normal space begin. It's as though the ship herself is purring to calm us all down.
* * *
“Run the scans Joe, is everybody headed to the AgriDome?”
“Yes Commander” I heard Joe's reply, his clipped tone indicating a level of distraction I could not define.
“Joe, enough with the commander crap” I followed this with a growl low in my throat to make my point.
“Huh? What?” Joe seemed flustered for a moment. “Oh, sorry Sam, distracted; there seems to be nothing on any of these planets. I'm worried that we might have to revert to the standby of generating our own fuel.”
“That's a chance we'll have to take,” I paused while I stared at the displays showing the local star system, “but it's not like we have a choice, we have to refuel or we'll be stuck between stars where we can't downshift to take on more fuel. Remember what happened to Beta Pride? They never came back to normal space when this happened to them.”
“Right, it's now or never. Guess I'll start scanning for sentience, or at least somewhere warm that we can recoup and recover while we refuel.” Joe turned away, effectively ending the conversation as he donned the headset and reconnected with the scanning systems.
* * *
Standing on the mount before the assembled crew, I slowly stretched out from nose to tail, in full view of all assembled, then I began.
“I am pleased that you consented to this gathering, I assume everyone received their personal collectors as they arrived?” A gentle jingling of metal tags on collars was the reply as I paused to assess the mass of furry crew members.
“I have some good news for you all. There is a single planet in this system that has sentient life on it, they are bipedal and have no significant personal defences.” I paused as the positive emotional response rolled across the collective mental link.
“The second part of this good news is that we can trigger the positive energy needed to fill our collectors and get these aliens to give us all the fuel we need to completely refill the ships holds.” The wave of positive response across the communal line was almost euphoric.
I continued, “All we have to do is make physical contact with these aliens, snuggle up close to them, and start our own healing cycle, purring for all we're worth. This will result in a reciprocal action from thealiens, thus filling your collectors. Now, go and make these aliens happy.”
I left the speech where it lay and moved off the mount, heading back to the command deck.
* * *
“One of your better landings Joe.”
“Thanks Sam,” Joe looked pleased at my compliment, “I better go get my collectors and head out. The ghost crew take care of our ship until we get back.”
I watched Joe as he bounded out the hatch, off to explore this warm blue and green planet, I envied him his freedom as I was only going to be able to head out for a cycle or so before I was needed back here to direct the flow of energy back to the holding tanks.
* * * One week later * * *
"Well, Joe? Did you enjoy your shore leave?" Naturally I was addressing the other feline's back, as his head was immersed in the sensor readout array.
His answer, muffled as usual, basically sounded affirmative. I turned back to the macro-screens, watching as the little blue green marble of a planet receeded into the distance. Noticing the impending trans-leap line approacting just past that big ringed red planet, I sighed. The details of being Commander were getting tiring, maybe it was time to revert to my previous post of Medical Tech and let somebody else try to run things for a while.
"This is First Commander, Delta Pride. We will be engaging trans-leap in seven minutes, we're full up and on the way out. Brace yourselves until trans-leap's engaged and then it's a couple hundred cycles until we get to the twin stars that were our destination. It's good to have you all back. Alpha Delta out.” I snapped off the communication system and slumped back onto the command couch.
“Joe, can you keep an eye on things for a bit, I am going to catch a quick cat nap.”
Not waiting for a reply I closed my eyes, tucked my nose under my tail and let the exhaustion claim me.
* * *
“Aya Fisk reporting live from the scene of the recent upheaval. Some are calling this a divine intervention, others an extra-terrestrial preliminary assessment, and still others are claiming this is the beginning of the end predicted in so many religions. Being objective I will not endorse any of those views. What I can say is that the spherical ship touched down just outside the historical city of Jerusalem, and millions of what appeared to be housecats flooded out of the ship. They commenced climbing up on anyone they could find and simply purring for hours at a time.
The unexpected side effect of this is that for the first time in decades there is absolutely no conflict in this recently war torn middle-eastern region. Even the Gaza Strip is silent as people wander around with grins on their faces. Then, after about a week of this behaviour by the alien cats, they all simply swarmed back into their ship and it floated back up into the starry night and they were gone. I guess if we could all just relax and chill out then there really would be no more reason to fight so much.
Aya Fisk, signing off, it's time for my cat-nap.”
* * *
Author's thought.
This entire story was written based on the question, “Why does this cat climb up on my chest and purr, not letting me so much as clean up the house. I have to sit here while he purrs and naps.”
I know it doesn't work scientifically, or on so many other levels, but there you have it. Peace and God Bless.
May 11, 2010
JibJab's Release
Author's insert.
This is the first one I've ever done. I have quickly edited it, and proofed it. But I was waiting to hear back about if it was any good, and the three I asked never answered me. So I take it to mean that it sucked, but there you have it. I like it. So there.
And the Story.
************************************
“Jibjab, we need you downstairs.” The statement coming from a half seen dirty face, hidden in shadows and smelling of earth.
The wail drifting up from the nether realms “Its not working right!” She was always the one they chose. Cracking an eyelid, she groaned at the predawn light filtering down. It was always thus, overlooked by those who mattered, indispensible to those who couldn't help her.
She descended into the chaos to assess the situation again. Always a jury rigged solution in this place, this forgotten armpit of the world. It look's like that's what it's going to be again. Sighing, she sat down and folded herself back and under the silent and meancing accumulation of parts. As she squirmed to reach the parts that she needed to get at, twisting this way and that, she thought again of her impending termination date, when it would finally be all over for her.
Slippered toes shuffled up to rest beside her ear, a voice drifting down from somewhere above, “What'cha doin' JibJab?”
Jibjab, as she was called by the littlest ones, was the oldest of the remaining inhabitants of this place, the rest of the older ones had passed on, in their absence the were finally free of the opressive structure, the daily fight for breath and bread.
There. It's working again. The resiliant electrical hum of the motors coming online, the beeps of acknowledgement. She wished she could just leave well enough alone, they broke it, they can figure out how to fix it. She worked her way out of the tangle of clinging throttling lines, shuddering at the sudden cold air on her back.
As she tugged her shirt back down into place, she picked up the slippered toes and the freckeld face that when with them.
“Kelly, use your big girl words, not JibJab, Jennifer.”
A gnarled face leaned out of the opening to the kitchen, “thanks for fixing the cables for the little one's Jennifer, we'll miss you around here.”
Jennifer thought back to the years she's spent in the orphanage, and felt a tear well up in her eye, but getting adopted was the best thing that could happen to her. She looked forward to tonight, her first night in her new home.
****************************************************
Let me know what you think. Please. Honesty is better than kindness. If it sucked, say so, if you like it, tell me why.
Andre.
This is the first one I've ever done. I have quickly edited it, and proofed it. But I was waiting to hear back about if it was any good, and the three I asked never answered me. So I take it to mean that it sucked, but there you have it. I like it. So there.
And the Story.
************************************
JibJab's Release
The wail drifting up from the nether realms “Its not working right!” She was always the one they chose. Cracking an eyelid, she groaned at the predawn light filtering down. It was always thus, overlooked by those who mattered, indispensible to those who couldn't help her.
She descended into the chaos to assess the situation again. Always a jury rigged solution in this place, this forgotten armpit of the world. It look's like that's what it's going to be again. Sighing, she sat down and folded herself back and under the silent and meancing accumulation of parts. As she squirmed to reach the parts that she needed to get at, twisting this way and that, she thought again of her impending termination date, when it would finally be all over for her.
Slippered toes shuffled up to rest beside her ear, a voice drifting down from somewhere above, “What'cha doin' JibJab?”
Jibjab, as she was called by the littlest ones, was the oldest of the remaining inhabitants of this place, the rest of the older ones had passed on, in their absence the were finally free of the opressive structure, the daily fight for breath and bread.
There. It's working again. The resiliant electrical hum of the motors coming online, the beeps of acknowledgement. She wished she could just leave well enough alone, they broke it, they can figure out how to fix it. She worked her way out of the tangle of clinging throttling lines, shuddering at the sudden cold air on her back.
As she tugged her shirt back down into place, she picked up the slippered toes and the freckeld face that when with them.
“Kelly, use your big girl words, not JibJab, Jennifer.”
A gnarled face leaned out of the opening to the kitchen, “thanks for fixing the cables for the little one's Jennifer, we'll miss you around here.”
Jennifer thought back to the years she's spent in the orphanage, and felt a tear well up in her eye, but getting adopted was the best thing that could happen to her. She looked forward to tonight, her first night in her new home.
****************************************************
Let me know what you think. Please. Honesty is better than kindness. If it sucked, say so, if you like it, tell me why.
Andre.
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