Category: Science fiction

“Seinfeld” On Mars Dream

I dreamed I was watching the old “Seinfeld” television show, but I was on Mars, in my ship. Awakening from watching the show, I experienced a panic attack, because I wasn’t in my Mars ship. My airlock and cockpit, which should have been to my left, were missing. I freaked. Where the hell were they? Where am I? Then, it was like someone had removed a camera lens filter. The light changed; the room darkened. I recognized that I was in my office recliner, on Earth. I’d fallen asleep watching “Seinfeld,” and dreamed I was watching it on Mars.

Which made me chuckle. It was the same episode on Mars as the one that I was watching when I awakened, “The Parking Garage,” from the second season, I think. This episode is where Kramer bought an air-conditioning unit, George is supposed to be taking his parents to a play for their anniversary, and Elaine has goldfish in a bag. Nobody knows where they’ve parked their car, so they’re wandering around, searching. I guess as they wandered, I took off for Mars.

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Slow Progress

I’m having fun with this novel. It’s grown into an epic. I’m trying to divide it into tasty volumes.

“Incomplete States” is science fiction. It features time travel, galactic alliances, others sentient life forms, and advanced Human cultures and technology. There’s lots of space travel on ships that sometimes carry several million people. New planets have been terra-formed. (It’s terraformed in the future; they’ve dropped the hyphen.)

Many diseases have been mastered. They’re not a threat. Aging isn’t a threat. Choose your age. Keep it as long as desired. Change it when you desire.

Death is not much of a threat. Resuscitation, regeneration, and resurrection (depending on the marketing and technology involved) have made it a side topic. One side-effect is that Humanity is dropping toward zero population growth. Children who are born are often incubated in artificial wombs. Nanosystems help the mother and child stay connected and develop that special bond.

Communication nets are introduced into their bodies at young ages. Phones are internal bio-devices; they’re constantly in touch with others, listening, filtering information, and contributing.

As noted, I have fun writing this, but I’m easily side-tracked, and my progress is slow. I barely write one thousand words a day. Editing and reviews for accuracy are extensive — and intensive. A large quantity of moving parts must be synchronized. For example, against this showcase of technology, Humans are faced with going to a planet where their technology not only fails, but is actively attacked. They don’t know why, but are going to live there without technology. Their mission is to track down four people who are believed to be on this planet.

That’s required a lot of brainstorming. What do you do, and how do you live, without technology, when technology is deeply embedded in all aspects of society? Aside from a few small fundamentalist sects, nobody knows what they’re doing or how to do it. They’re researching how to cook on stoves, burn wood, grow food, and process it. Their energy weapons won’t work; what about gunpowder? They’re learning to ride horses, exist without their augmented memories, and fight with swords, bows and arrows, and other more primitive weapons and methods.

This is where I become side-tracked: I research and write about much of their process of coping with these changes and their new needs. I put it all in the novel. I enjoy writing and reading about these things, but I suspect I’ll lose a lot of readers who don’t enjoy these sort of details. I’ve been thinking about it, though, debating whether it’s too much in that vein before concluding, screw those readers. I rationalize the easy way out: I’m writing for me, and for those who enjoy books like these.

Had to write this out, to think it out. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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Catportation

Catportation (catfinition): Cataportation is a system or process by which felines sometimes travel. Whether by magic or advanced feline science and technology, cats have an amazing ability to transport themselves to unusual locations, generally surprising people when they show up. The system seems analogous to organic matter transmitter or teleportation systems featured in human fiction. Many catalogists theorize the ability may be a natural feline skill, perhaps associated with their fur or tail.

The other theory advanced to explain catportation is that cats are masters of quantum mechanics that move through other dimensions.

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Not A Movie Review

We watched a movie last night called, “What Happened to Monday?”

It’s a violent, dystopian science-fiction movie that we watched on Netflix. Netflix brought it to their streaming offerings in August of this year. The premise, about septuplets secretly coping and living in world where only one child is authorized per family. This draconian policy was instituted to stretch scarce resources. Resources are scarce due to climate change. The problems are complicated by war and unforeseen consequences of genetically modified organizations.

The seven girls are named for the days of the week. They assume one identity, using their deceased mother’s name. Only one is permitted out each day; they go out on the day of their name. The rest of the time, they live secret lives in their apartment.

Naturally, things go wrong.

Glenn Close, William Dafoe, and Noomi Rapace star, along with Marwan Kenzari and Christian Rubeck. Dafoe plays the father, and Close is the villain. Rapace plays the seven sisters. You get a lot more of her than the other two. There are plots holes, some cringing moments and predictability, but it was sufficiently intense and unique to draw our attention and focus. Several of the sisters are shadows of a full character. Rapace works with that, but she does a powerful job with the more fully developed sisters.

Give it a watch, just to say that you did.

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Masquerade

The day was supposed to be a Thursday. That was the word from the calendar, and sources like computers, phones, and Fitbits. Other people asked, agreed, “Yes, today is Thursday.”

He remained unconvinced. The day didn’t feel like a Thursday. It didn’t feel like any proper day. His senses and thinking couldn’t penetrate the mask the day wore to see what day was under it. It definitely wasn’t Thursday. It didn’t seem like Friday or Monday. Distinctive in their feel, he thought he would have known them. Nor did it seem like a holiday behind the mask. Each holiday had its own uniquely cultivated taste and sound. He was certain that a holiday couldn’t be completely and successfully masked against his awareness.

Could it be Sunday behind the mask? It seemed out of character for Sunday. In fact, of all the days, he would expect Thursday to be the one that would pull a prank like this and masquerade as another day. Certainly it wasn’t something Saturday would do; Saturday was too full of itself to pretend to be another day.

An odd idea came to him. He had nothing to tell him it wasn’t Thursday behind the mask. If it was, Thursday was masquerading as itself, but doing a poor job of it.

He considered why that would be, why Thursday would want to pretend it was another day masquerading as itself. Doing a poor job of it would make him distrust everything about the day.

That was it. One of the days was up to something, and the way they were going about it was inculcating distrust in all of them. He looked around the day with sharpening suspicion, wondering which day could be, and what was going to happen. Whichever day it was, it was a cruel, cruel thing the day had done. If a day couldn’t be trusted, what would be next? Gravity? Sunshine? Time? That was all that he needed now.

Looking to the future with dread, he looked to the past with doubt, and stayed wary about the present, certain something else was about to happen, and completely unprepared for what it was going to be.

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The Air, the Fitbit, the Writing, the Dreams

Our outdoor air sucks. Need more?

Smoke from wildfires is filling our air. The Air Quality Index leaped to one hundred fifteen last night. DANGEROUS. It hasn’t been hot, only into the nineties. We open the house at night to cool it off, and then close the blinds and windows during the day. Opening the windows last night sent us into coughing fits as wet smoke smells wafted in. Eventually, we donned masks.

Today isn’t as bad. The A.Q.I. is in the fifties, and officially, moderate. Visibility remains down. It’s like a white-out beyond a a few hundred feet.

All this wildfire smoke has reduced my Fitbit activities. Walking is way down, to five miles a day average. It’s not as critical as many other issues resulting from wildfires. None of the fires are directly affecting our community. We feel for all those being evacuated in those areas, and appreciate the firefighters’ efforts. If this stuff is terrible for me, a guy in his early sixties who considers himself in good health, those with emphysema and other respiratory issues must be deeply suffering.

I took to the Orson Scott Card method for visualizing and organizing the novel in progress. O.S.C. talked about just drawing places, like a city, and then adding details. With each detail and area added or defined, entertain questions about why those areas and details exist. I’ve done this exercise before, with excellent results. I wasn’t disappointed this time.

I had been editing the novel’s first draft. Halfway through that process, I perceived a problem. A new ‘greater arc’ was required as the solution. I could be wrong, but this is how I decided to address the issue. It’s essentially an epic. I like epics. Bigger is better.

This was decided over a four day period. Then, after deciding it was necessary, I went on a reading sprint. I finished reading two novels, and read two others, in five days. I also read fiction stories and news articles online. This reading stimulated my writing juices and invigorated my writing dreams. I found myself re-committed to who I was, and what I was doing. It’s a matter of taking a deep breath, turning on the computer, and putting the ass in chair, and the fingers on a keyboard.

This new arc takes place on a planet where technology fails. An outpost is established using outdated technology. Suddenly, it’s like living in a frontier castle. I loved that difference in direction from my usual challenges of visualizing the far future and other intelligent races.

I drew the outpost on my computer, and brainstormed about how the lack of technology affects them, and solutions and work-arounds. The team living in the outpost are hunting for people, but can’t use their suits or vehicles. They fall back to horses. Having horses adds more problems and dimensions.

So do the powerful windstorms endured on the planet. That’s why the outpost becomes a castle; something stout enough to survive the windstorms are necessary. That’s the iceberg view of all the scenes, problems, and challenges realized. I don’t want to give away more. Drawing and brainstorming in this manner was a catalyst to my imagination. I scrambled to capture ideas an create an event timeline. It resulted in *shudder* an outline. 

As an organic writer, the outline overwhelmed me. Suddenly, there it all was, this part of the novel mapped out in all its complications and key events. I could imagine, see, and hear them. Writing them was required. It’s daunting for an organic pantser. I decided I would scramble to write key scenes and moments, and patch them together with bridge and pivot scenes, and build the story in layers, much like I used to do when oil painting, or writing a business case, or analyzing data.

I think that whatever opened my creative floodgates also turned the dream valves to full open. I had six remembered dreams last night. Friends from my past were featured. My wife also made an appearance. Of course, maybe it was the eclipse opening the dream and creativity gates. Who can say?

Trying to capture details this morning diverted personal resources already earmarked for other activities. I resorted to dream summaries. The dreams were wild. Once again, my muses were prominently featured. They were attempting to guide and assist me in different manners. Sorting the chaos was a fascinating exercise.

Having your muses show up in my dreams injects high confidence levels. I felt empowered and emboldened when I awaken. Yet, being me, the confidence evaporates to more normal levels by midday. Having your muses and some higher beings populate your dreams and offer encouragement has a good thing. I’m certainly not going to kick them out.

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. How about you, writers? Have you seen increased creativity? Maybe it is the eclipse.

Or maybe it’s the coffee.

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Organic Writing Fun

I’m having a ball with this organic writing business, and the part of the science fiction novel, “Incomplete States,” that I’m currently working on.

Organic writing in my use means that I have little frigging idea about where I’m going with something. Maybe expressing it, “Where it’s taking me,” is more accurate. It — the muse, the words, the characters, the novel — seems to jump into the driver’s seat, smash the gas and wrench the wheel. They don’t even yell, “Hang on.” They just take off. Sometimes they leave me behind, because they — or it — are smarter and more creative than moi.

But this time, I’m keeping up, and we’re having a ball. This far future, technologically advanced Human society is the backdrop. They travel galaxies like many of us fly around the country. Nanos maintaining health are embedded; so are various communication nets and data webs. You’re in constant contact. Death hasn’t been overcome, but there are work-arounds. People are living quality lives for over a hundred years.

The technology allows you to genetically shape and sculpture your body and features. Regardless of your ethnicity, you can like as you wish, and stay like that until you decided to die.

Because some, do, get bored by the tedium, or philosophically explore, but going for permanent death. That’s a background fade in my book.

Less children are being born. The procreative drive is evaporating. Part of this is due to a virus, but that’s another sub-plot.

The world of this section, though, has a virus that attacks technology. They don’t know the origins of the virus. I do, of course, and it is a Human development devised for war and marketing. (They’re not that different; they’re all about conquering others and gaining strategic advantages to advance an agenda and gain wealth.) The net is, everything normally done via technology can’t be done. Returning to more basic materials and methods are required.

In a sense, it’s like steampunk as the characters cope with the changes, and I, the writer, plays with the impact and shifts. This identifies one of my favorite writing aspects: exploring ideas, fleshing them out, and discovering how the characters react. It is delicious.

Now, gotta go. “It” is calling. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

 

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During the Eclipse

I don’t know if I was the first to think it. How could I know? I didn’t tell anyone what I was thinking. It was too damn crazy. There were probably others who likewise noticed, but kept it to themselves. Because, what could we do?

When I began thinking it, I don’t know. I didn’t mark the date. Like the economy, or a war, it took a few months to get a true and complete sense of what was transpiring.

It began with people telling about miraculous recoveries from cancer, and other diseases and injuries on Facebook. Those stories swept across the media as newspapers and television networks noticed. Reporters hunting the stories found bigger stories, even as hospitals and government agencies added other elements.

People weren’t dying. Gunshot and stabbing victims recovered. So did people who overdosed. Burns healed. Drowning victims took sudden new breaths, startling everyone. Diseases went into remission. Those who needed assistance from machines, nurses, caregivers, and doctors were able to push them aside, walking, chewing, and wiping their own asses, without others’ help. Memories, speech, and motor control returned. Their vision and minds sharpened.

So many thought it a miracle, a proof of some God’s love. Meanwhile, the planet’s average temperatures jumped. Hurricanes and cyclones destroyed cities, but nobody died. Glaciers melted. The sea levels rose, as did the heat, shriveling crops. America’s Midwest dried up, becoming another dust bowl. Water grew scarce and precious. Unemployment climbed, because there was less need for taking care of the sick, dying, and dead. People cried and screamed in hungry pain. Animals were killed. Fights over food and water broke out. Then came the riots.

I was sure I knew what had happened. Sometime during the cover given by the eclipse, others invaded Earth. They were wiping us out by accelerating our climate change, and keeping us alive even as we starved. It was a soft invasion. They didn’t want us dead, just weak, so they could enslave us.

Guessing that’s what was happening, I’d taken quiet actions to make things as pleasant as possible for my family in our remaining days. There was no way to kill ourselves; there was no way to die. All we could do was wait.

After eleven months, Nate Silver published results. August 21, 2017, was day zero. That was the last day anyone had died. We should all remember that date, when we meet our new masters. I’m sure they’ll introduce themselves by giving us food.

And we’ll be so grateful, we’ll do what they want.

 

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My New Toilet Bowl Cleaner

Well, I did it. After vowing I wouldn’t, I bought a robot toilet bowl cleaner. It was several hundred dollars, but I don’t like cleaning the toilets. Neither does my wife, so we shrugged, and slapped down the plastic.

It kind of looks like a gray plastic daddy long-legs, with less legs. Called Rotoboc – Robot Toilet Bowl Cleaner – it weighs just five pounds, and it isn’t large. That didn’t alleviate my doubts about its skills, plus the cleaner bulbs cost fifty-five dollars for a package of twenty-five, shipping included. You can only buy them from the website at this point. Naturally, they come in scents. In a way, the bulbs remind me of modern home office printers; the printers are inexpensive, but those ink cartridges are expensive. It’s one of my pet peeves, so I felt it necessary to mention.

Using the Rotoboc – I call my Rooty — is easy.

  1. Lift the lid and seat. The Rotoboc sits right on the rim.
  2. Extend its five little legs to cover the bowl and set the Rotoboc on the rim. Don’t worry about centering it.
  3. Insert the cleaning/disinfectent bulb into the receptor.
  4. Fill the water tank with a pint of fresh water and insert into position.
  5. Select the mode. There are two: cleaning, and disinfecting. Disinfecting takes longer.
  6. Press On.

After Rooty comes to life with a few beeps and lights, it says, “Good morning,” in a female voice that reminds me of Glenn Close. Then it centers itself with a few hums.

So, from what the website tells me, the fresh water is used to inject the bulb and mix with the cleaner/disinfectant. First, it puts down a little spray head into the bowl, and sprays, while rotating, like a lawn sprinkler head. The sprinkler head withdraws.

Then it sits there counting for a while, five minutes, if it’s only cleaning, twenty, if it’s disinfecting. Next, brushes are extended down into the water like landing gear coming down on an aircraft. They go into the water, and then around the bowl and under the rim. While that’s happening, another small arm comes out and grabs the rim. Giving squirts as it goes, it begins rotating the Rotoboc along the rim, cleaning it while the brushes are at work below.

The whole device is quiet, emitting a gentle swishing sound when its working, with a white noise background hum. Green lights on top tell you its progress. Basically, there are five green lights. As a stage is completed, that light goes green. When all five lights are green, it’s finished. The Glenn Close like voice announces, “Done,” with a flourish of tinny trumpets.

If something goes wrong, a red light on top illuminates, three dongs are issued, and it says with a calm voice, “Error.” Then it gives its error number for your convenience. Nothing has gone wrong in the month we’ve been using it.

Afterward, you pick it up, fold Rooty’s little legs back in, and put it into its white case for the next time. The case has a recharger for the batteries, and is plugged into the wall. We store the case under the sink. Whoever built our house decided to put an outlet there, so we were good to go. I’d say that would be a problem for many people, though.

As I say, so far, its’ been a good investment. I can’t see hotels buying them, but they’re great for a household like ours. I predict a lot more will have them by the year’s end.

Hopefully, the bulb prices will start coming down, then.

I hear they’re coming out with one to clean the bathtub, too. I’m dubious, but I am thinking about it.

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The Nano Age

Has the Nano Age arrived?

Nanotechnology is a large part of my future scenarios, critically so in the area of human health. My future settings frequently include nanomeds residing in the body. Replenishing themselves, their tasks are to monitor people’s health and condition, and then address fixes. As part of their on-site services, they make continual adjustments to keep their human hosts comfortable and healthy. They address your heart rate, your nutrient, mineral and hormone levels, etc. Think of them in the same vein as modern cars’ electronic brains work to adjust spark and timing, air/fuel mixtures, and even acceleration and cruising levels to provide the optimum blends of power, responsiveness, and fuel economy, while minimizing air pollution.

I read today that Ohio State University researchers claim they’ve developed a device that utilizes Tissue Nanotransfection (TNT). They claim their device can heal organs with just a single touch in a procedure that takes less than a second.  This could be a big step toward my future settings. In the short term, I still think we’re due for a break through in using nanotechnology in clothing.

My future clothing incorporate nanotechnology. Since it’s in the future, it’s pretty impressive stuff. Self-cleaning, it adjusts to keep you comfortable, becoming hotter and cooler as necessary by changing its weave and density, or adding and removing layers. Of course, it can add a water proof layers, if needed. They’re not often needed, as people don’t go into precipitation. When they do encounter it, their personal energy cloaks keep the moisture off them. The personal energy cloaks also work with the nanotechnology — and both communicate and co-ordinate with your body’s nanomeds — to address your needs.

Styling can also be changed. You can switch from pants to shorts, but shorts are rarely worn, as pants can keep you cooler and more comfortable.

This doesn’t happen in a vacuum. An electronic personal assistant is embedded in you during your youth. This device coordinates activities, and keeps you wirelessly connected on multiple nets. You communicate on some of them, via nanoimplants in your brain as a sort of nano-empowered virtual telepathy.

Changing clothing styles and adding layers requires material, as do drugs, splints and sutures for your body. My future settings often include nano-compilers built into your body, which work with nano-transporters to bring almost instantaneously deliver whatever your body desires. Your clothing can look invisible while projecting a perfect body shape, according to your tastes for that day.

I like to think that we’ve moved past our fixation on body size and shapes by then. I also like to believe we’ve gone past concerns about the color of your skin, religion (which is waning by then), and your gender and sexual orientation. In fact, gender swapping negate many of the gender binary structure, and nanotechnology allows us to play with skin color.

As for religion, well that continues to rise as some people seek reassurances about their lives and direction. Unfortunately, discrimination, hatred, and prejudice sometimes still arise.

That’s the fun of playing with future settings. You can attempt to extrapolate current trends to protect future directions. It’s a hugely flawed process, of course, but fun. For example, even when developing nano-applications such as nanomeds and clothing nanotechnology, political, cultural, and economic issues arise as to why some people will not employ such things. Best of all is having my peoples dependent on such technologies and then having them fail. That’s why I’m at today, in one of my settings.

Time to go write like crazy, at least one more time.

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