Category: fiction

Delivery Rules

I know he’s out there. Watching. Waiting, exercising Zen patience. I know the Delivery Rules.

First Rule: inconvenience the customer as significantly as possible.

It’s not about profit and loss or corporate vision and mission statements. It’s about people with power. They have the package. I want the package. So they have the power.

Oh, delicious power, how they love watching me leap up when a truck passes my house. “Is that it?” they mock, imagining my voice, bringing up their super-powerful binoculars to see my disappointment, laughing as they finger a few more drooping French fries into their mouth.

They don’t know that I know the rules. I’m aware of them and their delivery watch. “Keep hidden,” I tell my wife. “Don’t go past any windows.”

“This is ridiculous,” she answers.

“Shhh,” I hiss, pointing up. “They’re listening.”

She stares at me.

I explain, “They’ll know you’re here. We want them to think we’re not home or can’t come to the door.”

Amazement disturbs her gaze. “And why do we care if they know I’m here?”

“Shhh.” I look out the windows. Of course I can’t see a delivery vehicle. They’re not fools. They cloak the van with invisibility so they can stay out there, watching, without being detected, until they believe I’m not home or available and ‘attempt’ delivery. I know how this works.

I move closer to my wife so I can whisper. “They’re out there. They’re waiting for me to leave or take a shower. Then they’ll ring the bell. I won’t hear it so they’ll leave a notice and try again tomorrow. That’s how they get you.”

She stares at me. I don’t know what that look means. “How do I fit into this?” she asks in a Very Normal Tone.

Her refusal to keep her voice down disturbs me. “Quiet,” I hiss. “Come on. What’re you trying to do?” Realizations penetrate my thinking. “They got to you, didn’t they?”

Her eyes widen. “Who?”

But I get it. I understand. “Never mind.” I smile. “I was just joking.” I let slip laughter. “Pretty convincing, wasn’t I?”

She doesn’t seem convinced but I put her behind me and leave the room. Out there, in the living-dining-kitchen great room, I pace and pace, trying to figure out what I can do.

But it doesn’t matter. They have her. They’ve already won the day. Yet, I can’t give up. Not that easily. I’ve been playing the game too long. This isn’t my first delivery. “I’m going to take a shower,” I call, very loudly.

“Okay,” she answers, a mumble.

I go into the master bath and turn on the shower, hoping to fool them, and then slip into the hall to get to the front door to wait. I meet my wife coming down the hall. She looks startled. “I thought you were taking a shower.”

Checking on me. Oh, I get it. I smile. “I am.”

“But you have all your clothes on.”

I nod. “I know.”

Shaking her head, she walks past, saying, “I think you need to relax.”

Relax, oh, they’d like that. Hearing her turn off the water, I run back into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“You’re wasting water,” she replies.

Pushing past her, I turn the water back on. She’s talking but I can’t understand her. “What?” I ask. She’s talking again but I still can’t understand her. “What?” I shake my head. “I can’t hear you. You’re talking too low.”

Diversion, I realize, and then the phone rings. The rules require them to ring the doorbell, but if I don’t hear it or answer in time, they leave – and then they won. “Was that the doorbell?” I run for the door and yank it open as my wife answers the phone.

A notice hangs from the door handle. I rush out to see if I spot the truck, a rookie error born from frustration. They already cloaked the truck. Nobody can hear or see it now.

“Did your computer come?” My wife asks from behind me.

I smile without looking back. “No. They left a notice.” I go back in past her, glancing at her face. They got to her. I see it in her brown eyes. I don’t know how. Probably bribed her with a discount coupon for shoes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, closing the door, but there’s no sorrow in her voice.

“That’s okay,” I answer with false cheerfulness. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Yes, there’s always tomorrow, when we’ll play again. I know the rules.

Someday, I’ll win.

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Beyond 3D

Ghostbusters 3D is in our local cinemas tomorrow, and we’re hitting it.

3D movies are normal and expected, so much of it being put into 3D. My first experience with it was Hugo. When the snow fell in the film’s beginning, I was astounded by how the snow flakes seem fall toward me from the scene. Beautiful and amazing, and now, like jets, cars, microwaves, computers, the Internet and a million more modern technologies, processes, and services, so common, it’s the new normal.

Virtual Reality movies may be the next iteration. Imagine, instead, of attending a movie, and while sitting in the theater, you experience the movie from within. With tiered ticketing, the opportunities to watch can be inter-active, so in one side, you can reside within one character, watching, hearing and generally experiencing the movie through them. In another scene, you can be a fly on the wall, turning your attention to whatever attracts you.

Such scenarios drive ideas about what can go wrong. Trapped in a movie, trapped as a character, launched into a new dimension through a movie, time traveling through movies, accidently becoming someone else during the movie – or reversals of these things. Discovering you thought you were born here when actually, you came through a movie. Now they’re hunting you.

Oh, the fun we can have with this.

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Dueling Novels

Hard writing day. When the Dallas sniper struck, it sapped my interest/desire for writing about murder.

But I had to write, so I began writing a sequel to “Returnee”, “The Long Summer”. Yet, the me that is a writer knew that other novel, “Personal Lessons with Savanna”, remained in progress, and he still had some writing to do.

So I end up doing a chapter of TLS, and then a chapter of PLwS. I’ll be writing one and realize a line or change for the other. Both story arcs are growing and stretching out before me, beckoning as a calm sea on a summer day, but exhausting as I jump from one to the other and strive to grab the evolving threads of each and order them. Neither can be shut down. Each generates their own aha excitement, stirring enthusiasm. Writing like crazy is driving me crazy.

I’m achieving progress, but man, oh, man, that excitement is a burning fire, consuming my patience and energy as its fuel, leaving me a short-tempered, barely functioning shell.

More coffee. Quick, damn it, quick. Ah, now the battery is low.

Time to stop. For now.

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More OMG

As I walked today, I returned to a favorite concept and toyed with it. I love the concept but lacked a vehicle. Yesterday’s concept that pleased me so greatly yesterday rose up. Ah, what can I do with it?

Blink, blink. The favorite concept could be told through a sequel to Returnee. I’d been wanting to write a sequel to that – there’s more story to be told. (There always is, isn’t there?) Blink blink. And the conceptual basis of the novel could be the new, exciting concept.

Blink blink. Blink, blink, blink.

OMG, yes, the story and setting began cascading into me. Now, now, I chided myself, stay true to the current novel. It’s in progress, must be written, finished, revised, edited, polished, published, released. Yes, but, yes, but –

Yes, but crashed through. Excitement couldn’t be stopped. A first line emerged. Oh, yeah, what a wonderful first line. So I’ll write it, just it, along with, maybe just a little scene. As the setup evolved, I thought, perhaps I’ll just write a chapter.

Okay, one chapter. Just one, just, like 2,000 words.

That’s all. For now.

 

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Mysterious Writing

Writing sometimes seems like such a mysterious process. It used to deeply mystify me as I would apply the questions, the who/what/why/how/when melange that flavors fiction and struggle forward.

Not so today, this week. I sit down, open up, read a bit of what’s written and resume. I guess I’ve trained and ordered my mind to ‘think like a writer’ and create fiction. But this book is coming along so seamlessly, I worry that perhaps it’ll be thin and bland. I wonder, if it’s easy writing, is it poor story telling? If it’s easy, is it too predictable, too simplistic? Yet, I enjoy it.

It might be that I’ve been reading wonderful fiction, having just finished The Signature of All Things and now progressed two thirds through My Brilliant Friend. I’ll often end up editing books because they’re written in passive voice, or they tell and then show, or the reverse, at any rate, displaying a need for editing. Not so with Gilbert and Ferrante’s books. Ferrante especially creates such a sense of people and place that I’m inspired.

So maybe this is just a zone contrived from writing the third book in a series (which gives me intimacy with the characters) and reading writers I enjoy. After thinking about the matter, I’ll not worry myself about it. Take it for what it is, a blessing, a luxury. Perhaps it’ll end in a day, an hour, a minute. Just write like crazy and see where I end up when I’m done.

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Myth & Hyperbole

Walking today, I returned to the Stellar Queen in my mind.

Things changed after Her Lady disappeared from the ship’s scene. You’ll notice that I don’t say that she died or departed; I don’t know but that she was ‘gone’. Rei claimed she left the ship in secret, but what’s one person’s view, especially the view of a baker? How did he get to know Her Lady so well, the people wanted to know?

Remember, too, this was still the Integrated Age, when body and electronics were blended with marketing, security and privacy to create a web of existence. Marketing and security bees traveled the ship. Her Lady hadn’t wanted them but had agreed that it was Her People’s ship. A bare majority of its half million population wanted the bees, so they were permitted. While the bees weren’t greatly popular, they tracked people’s movements. When Her Lady disappeared, attention was naturally directed to the bees.

But Her Lady had no records, as the Security Director knew. “Her Lady was above that, too,” she said. “There are no records of her existence or movement for any time, nor any place, during her entire life aboard the Stellar Queen.”

Although many professed they shouldn’t be surprised, given who she was and her penchant for secrecy and privacy (a vote via the ship’s Galeb revealed that 77% could not pick out Her Lady’s image from a group of five), most were surprised and even outraged. Suspicions began nibbling and lurking. Perhaps the Security Director and Rei had entered a nefarious partnership and removed Her Lady to assert their own power. A majority rebutted that as absurd but the rumors persisted, especially after the turn of problems on the Queen.

First was an outbreak of killing disease, followed by the ship quarantine to manage the disease, and The Revelations. The Revelations were still being discovered when ship equipment malfunctioned. Worse of these events was the ship’s sun, Surya (named for the benevolent Hindu sun god who rode through the sky in a carriage), which suddenly became Surly Surya, rising fifteen degrees higher than planned in its first malfunction and resisting input, before finally cooling but stalling in the sky. Becoming a dull orange, it hovered over the Majestic Plan and Snow at its high noon summer position, an angry glowering ember. “The heat had been bad,” Wallander said, “but I’d rather it than this endless day with an ugly sun. It seems like a dangerous omen for us. Perhaps this is the end for the Stellar Queen.”

Nobody argued against his observation.

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Garbage Time

“Escapists.”

Her Lady was amused.

One man held center stage in a corner of like men. He seemed like a natural actor, with a voice that traveled the room like a machine gun firing.

“They’re living on the ship, what is it called again, the Stellar Queen? Which is made to be like a small world inside.” He waved a canape. “How is that different from living on a planet?”

A fellow industrialist, he was a large, trim man who could have been a professional athlete, from his looks and mannerisms, and not a venture capitalist. He didn’t know Her Lady was the agent behind the Stellar Queen. She’d taken pains to hide her early involvement, a simple matter if one had the means and resources to create the required fronts.

“Okay, sure, they’re traveling through the galaxies,” the man, an Australian whose name she didn’t recall, began again, “but again, so are planets. They’re all up there because they can’t cope with real life. You might as well call it a cocoon or a coffin. That’s what it really is, isn’t it? A huge coffin for a hundred thousand people, masquerading as a bio ship. Tell you what, it’s ridiculous. But they’re doing us a favor. We’re better off without people so weak willed and fearful that they’re attracted to abandoning real life and living on that thing.”

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Doctor Pollux suggested while leveling an impartial wide gaze on Her Lady.

Her Lady didn’t care, so she agreed. Privately, Her Lady scoffed at the Australian’s loud pronouncement, although, she agreed with a few points he gave, except he sketched with hard edges. She would soften and blend the points because matters were broader than that. “Are you afraid that I’ll be upset?” she asked Pollux.

“I know you better,” Pollux answered. “It’s for me. I prefer a more comfortable and less noisy environment.”

Her Lady nodded. “I was tempted to engage him and ask what he’s doing with his life, and how it was so different from those going onto the Stellar Queen.” She, who had spent a natural lifetime plus the time awarded the wealthy through medical technology, thought that many on the ‘natural worlds’ as such places as Earth and the other worlds were termed, spent most of their days in garbage time.

Garbage time was the concrete expression given when a sports game must continue to progress until time is reached even though the results are clear. Garbage also refers to a team playing out its schedule even though it has no chance of advancing into any play-offs. To Her Lady, however, garbage time was also assigned to those living with purpose, passing the day via tedious routines, usually because they wanted or needed money, but failed to do anything with the monies they accrued except stay alive.

“I’m sure he lives to make money,” she said to Doctor Pollux, “and acquire power and influence to better his life.”

The conversation varied along points made in previous discussions. Priding herself as seeing a broader rainbow of existence and thinking Her Lady was being simplistic, Doctor Pollux pointed out, “As I have said before, many people would not be living like that, were they not caught up in the machines’ gears. The comfort and confidence provided by a secure and healthy home life can’t be overstated.”

“Many people do not need to exist like that, if they had greater courage and self-confidence.” Her Lady’s eyes sparkled with the engagement of one of her favorite subjects. “Most people live lives of fear and desperation, ruing their lot while never attempting to change it.”

“I don’t think it’s so easily changed,” Pollux answered. “It’s such a complex issue of nature and circumstances.”

“What, money?”

“Besides money, besides willpower and courage, or fortitude. It’s a more deeply seated personal and unique issue that must really be addressed on an individual level.”

They were sufficiently away from others that they had private space. Sipping her wine, Her Lady said, “That is why I’m building the Stellar Queen.”

Attempting to breach the other’s secretive manner, Pollux considered Her Lady more carefully. The other seemed happy, even relieved that she was making a great revelation. She’d been working with Her Lady for some time and thought she’d developed an intelligent composite of the other. Both had been inspired by the old space adventure television shows, books, movies, and computer games when they were children. Thanks to Pollux’s great-grandmother, humanity was exploring the galaxy and completing the first wave of colonization on other worlds. Pollux had always assumed that this was why Her Lady was building the Stellar Queen.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Turning away, Her Lady smiled and replied, “Yes, I know,” quickening her step and drinking her wine before Pollux could ask for more explanation.

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Her Lady

Five foot eight inches tall, rumored to be white with short dark hair and perpetually wearing sunglasses, the woman behind the Stellar Queen was mysterious.

She was at least eight hundred years old, well-established because she’d lived on the Stellar Queen for that long. Such a long life on one ship leads to rumors….

I lived for fifty years as a child and man on the Stellar Queen, enjoying my second childhood on the ship after I initiated my Do-over, so I was always watching out for her. I was never certain I saw her. There were rumors….

Her appearance was challenging not just because she was rarely seen but also because she practiced genetic designing to shape shift, leading her appearance to often change, even becoming an animal, such as the panther that was claimed to live on the Stellar Queen, or one of the unicorns in the forest. At least, those were were the rumors….

The Stellar Queen was her baby, along with Doctor Jharun Pollux, great-granddaughter of Doctor Jerol Pollux. Doctor Jerol Pollux was the famous discoverer of the dark elements. The elder Doctor Pollux, a funny point to write, was but twenty-four when she made her discoveries a hundred years before her great-granddaughter’s birth. Jharun Pollux and Her Lady were said to be contemporaries in their youth, and struck up a relationship from that era. ‘That era’ was when space exploration and colonization began blossoming, thanks to the dark elements of the elder doctor’s findings, but it was almost three hundred years later that the two women began collaborating on the Stellar Queen’s design and construction.

Most critically for the Stellar Queen, Doctor Pollux incorporated power generators using asteridium, chiridium, and lumenirium. Asteridium was the black element most commonly used in starships for propulsion but Pollux used it with a small lumenirium core to create the artificial sun that graced the Stellar Queen’s bio-dome, rising in the east, and setting in the west.

Chiridium was the more interesting choice for the ship’s power. Chiridium, named for chi, after the life force, is rarer, more difficult to mine and control. Myths related to its name and Doctor Jerol Pollux’s comments about it, can never be put down. As a dark element, some say it’s a dark life force. Both Doctors Pollux laughed about that, but with its AI ship overseer, many inhabitants and visitors thought the Stellar Queen was alive. Majorities of people recounted stories and gave interviews stating that something different was felt as soon as you boarded the ship.

Her Lady never made comments about it that anyone ever recorded. As odd and intriguing as her eight hundred year life aboard the Stellar Queen was, her disappearance without notice when she left was equally intriguing. She only told Rei the baker, famous for his goods from Trudy’s Valley, that she was leaving.

Being the only source, naturally, more rumors arose. One rumor was that one of her shapeshifting processes was disrupted, rendering her a monster that couldn’t be fixed, and that she still lived in secret on the Queen. Others claimed that she had never existed, that she had not created the Stellar Queen, but that it created her because the woman who had begun the project had died before it launched. More quietly, it was suggested that perhaps it wasn’t correct to think of the Stellar Queen as two separate entities, but that they were one, yet another project of the great Doctor Jerol Pollux, and her great-granddaughter.

Imagination can be a wild, untamed creature.

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Dragon’s Lair

If you’re into winter sports and visit the Stellar Queen, you’ll want to teleport to South Point. Located in the Southern Mountains, South Point is at ten thousand feet (“So close, you can almost touch the sun,” the inhabitants claim – not true) and offers the ship’s best skiing, snow boarding and snow mobile adventures. Painting itself as the Stellar Queen’s Aspen, after Earth’s famous resort, South Point even has an annual film festival, Stardance, to convince you of their bonafide intentions.

Three miles from South Point (seconds via ship teleport) is Trudy’s Valley. Trudy, one of the ship’s original settlers, is long departed from the ship. She re-married (her fifth, although just her second male husband, but her second marriage since becoming a woman again) and moved with her husband back to his home world, where they opened an art gallery that features the Stellar Queen’s artists.  Trudy’s grandson remains in Trudy’s Valley, though. Rei’s awesome baked goods are considered the ship’s best, and many establishments in the cities and towns around the Stellar Queen promote Baked Delights from Trudy’s Valley. Rei offers savory and sweet goods. I’d kill for one of his dark chocolate drizzled raspberry croissants right now.

Also within spitting distance of South Point and worth a visit is Dragon’s Lair. Located on the Stellar Queen’s second highest peak, Petyr McSweeney’s original intention was to introduce dragons to the Queen. Dragons were big as part of the genetic creations movement sweeping the galaxies back then. But in a rare move, Her Lady exercised her veto powers. With sharply unambiguous verbiage, she clarified that the Stellar Queen would not be home to dragons or other fantasy creatures, declaring, “This isn’t a fantasy ship.” She does, however, allow unicorns to wander Her Lady’s Forest on her estate (the ship’s largest private holding).

Undeterred by that setback, Petyr instead established a brewery. Dragon’s Lair Imperial Porter is chocolate and vanilla infused. Powerful, smooth and heady, I can attest its worth imbibing from a perch in the Stellar Queen’s high, snowy mountains. Visit after sundown and gaze upon the stars.

Tell them I sent you and say hello to Petyr for me, but beware. Petyr used to terraform planets for human settlement and has a million and one stories, and will not hesitate to tell them. Still, he’ll keep your cup filled, as long as you’re willing to listen.

 

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