Category: Science fiction

His Name

His grey-green master came to see him in the morning.

The sun was up, and it was eight thirty by his clocks, which seemed accurate. He’d just completed showering, shaving, and his other personal matters when he turned and saw her. His house was at a level where she could comfortably look in on him without bending much.

The intrusion infuriated him. Shouting profanities at her tempted his tongue, but he held back, instead smiling at her. Still smiling, he gave a mock smile and bowed. He wondered how she would take that, and then turned his back on her to go down and make breakfast.

“Tolleaf,” she said.

She’d said that before, he remembered. Stopping, he turned and looked up at her.

“Tolleaf,” she said.

This is probably his name, he realized. What she’d decided to call him. He shook his head. “No. No.” Pointing at himself, he said, “Thomas.”

“Tolleaf,” she said.

“Thomas,” he said. He hit his chest with his fist. “Thomas. Thomas.” He hit his chest again. “Thomas.”

Bending closer to his house, she opened her yellow eyes wide. He watched her irises and pupils change. The capillaries and arteries in her eyes looked like a garden hose.

“Thomas?” she said.

Thomas nodded. “Yes.” He nodded again and pointed at himself. “Thomas.”

“Thomas,” she said.

He felt sick that this made him feel happy.

1

My Smart Frig

I was thinking about a smart refrigerator as I walked today, and what my smart refrigerator would do for me. To begin, my smart refrigerator would scan everything in it. It would know what’s in my frig, and its condition. It’d be able to send me a message about the condition and quantity of the romaine lettuce.

It would also get rid of the romaine once it trespassed beyond being usable. The smart refrigerator’s message to me would be, “The romaine lettuce hearts have gone bad. I’m pitching them at midnight, unless I hear from you otherwise.”

Yes, it would give me ultimatums. It would also then pitch the food that’s gone bad, relieving me of the burden.

My smart frig would also suggest dinner options. Its umbrella of operations includes the refrigerator, freezers, and pantry. It’s like the kingdom of food. My smart frig would say, “You have some chicken breasts in the freezer. Shall I take them out and defrost them. There’s some Penna pasta, so I can make you some chicken Penna pasta.”

I wouldn’t even need to ask, “Do I have everything I need?”, because my smart frig would have compared the recipe with what I have on hand, and would have ordered whatever was needed.

Yes, my smart frig has the ability to move food out of its confines to the trash, or take it out, defrost and cook it for me. The smart oven, range, and microwave would work with the smart frig to make it happen.

As I think about it, I’m probably imagining a smart kitchen. Besides the smart frig inventorying my food stuffs and their condition, the kitchen is working with the sink and dishwasher to load dirty dishes, run, and put them away. Over at the smart wine console, another bottle of my favorite red as been ordered, as the bottle I opened last night is half-empty. *ahem*

Meanwhile, over in the smart bathroom, there’s tidying going on. Toilet bowls, sinks, tubs, showers and floors are being cleaned. Dusting and vacuuming is proceeding in the smart bedrooms, closets, and living room. The smart beds made themselves. Out in the smart garage, the smart car has cleaned itself inside and out, including the windows and wheels (because I notice many people don’t seem to clean their wheels). The laundry has been sorted by the smart washer, and the smart dryer is folding clothes and putting them away. The smart kitty litter box has cleaned itself, too.

I guess, what I’m really trying to say in this post, is that I want to live like George Jetson.

Without the traffic, of course. You’d think they would have been smarter about that by then.

0

How It Goes

I’m standing down from my writing session.

I was writing an intense scene. I had to build up to it. Kanrin and some of his team are down on Kyrios. He has one hundred team members. They’re divided into five platoons, which is the corporate standard. He doesn’t take them all down at the same time. No, he was taking three platoons, so he can rotate platoons in and out. They’re coping with not having their nanosystems and standard technology, which forces them to live in a primitive manner.

Getting to the point that I was ready to write this scene took a lot of set-up. I had to determine which three platoons were down there. Some members were sick; which? They’ve built a small fort with one main tower, and four perimeter towers. (They were built on the starship, Epitome, and then ferried down in sections and put together.) Each tower is manned with two people; I wanted to know who was in each one. Then came the details of what was happening, what happened to whom, and who said what.

Besides that, their resupply vessel, with the replacement platoon, is overdue. A storm strikes; some are killed. Who? What do they do with the bodies? It’s emotional for them, too. They’re accustomed to people dying and then being resurrected/resuscitated/regenerated, and back among them in less than a day. It’s a black scene that’s the beginning of a dark period. So much of it is visible to me, but I have to endure the tedious business of writing it, word by word, comma by comma, period by — well, you get it. Then, whatever happens to each character must be documented in the bible, so I can easily reference these facts and keep true and logical.

Twenty-five hundred words were written, a decent session, but I’m spent. My typing posture working on the coffee shop’s table was poor; I was hunkered over in concentration, and I feel it in my neck muscles.

Time to stop writing like crazy, at least for now, although the writer knows, I’m going to continue writing in my head. That’s just how it goes.

 

0

Imaginary Physics

“What do you have?” he said.

“Chi-particle. Can you break it?”

“Can I break it. We can break anything here. I’ll give you a tachyon and a baryon.”

“That’s not enough.”

“I think that’s fair.”

“It’s not enough. Throw in a meson.”

“No way. A chi-particle isn’t worth a tachyon, baryon, and meson.”

“I disagree.”

“Take it somewhere else, then. Know how hard it is to get rid of a chi-particle?”

“Know how hard it is to capture an extra one?”

“If it’s so hard, and they’re so special, why are you trying to get rid of it?”

“These are special circumstances.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I need to change a chi-particle.”

“Look, I feel you, buddy, but I’m pretty limited. It’ll be hard as hell for me to get rid of that. People don’t want them. And Chi-particles have imaginary mass. Know what that does to real mass?”

“Yes, but they’re faster than light. They’re faster than tachyons. They have the longest half-life of anything out there. Hell, they’re the fundamental energy-particle of life.”

“That’s why people don’t want them. They already have them. Everyone has one. They worry about what another chi-particle will do to the relativity of simultaneity.”

“Yes, but Blink drives won’t work without them.”

“Blink drives are in the future. I have to deal with the present.”

“There is no future or past, there’s just now.”

“Oh, no, don’t start trying quantum bullshit on me. I’m an eternalist. I’ll not have presentism in my shop. You want to talk presentism, take it somewhere else.”

“Okay, okay, forget about time.”

“Forget about time?”

“Just give me a pentaquark and a tachyon, instead.”

“Where do you think you’re at? Look around you. You think I have anything as exotic as a pentaquark here?” He laughed. “Next, you’ll be asking for a heptaquark.”

“Well, what can you give me, then? Make an offer.”

“What about some leptons? I got every flavor you want.”

“I’m already lousy with leptons. Try again.”

He thought. “What flavor of chi-particle is it?”

“Human, of course.”

“Human huh?”

“I wouldn’t be dealing with you, if it wasn’t a Human chi-particle.”

“Okay. I’ll give you a tachyon, baryon, and boson.”

“A boson?” 

“Yeah, that’s a good deal.”

“You kidding me?”

“You won’t get that anywhere else.”

“A Higgs boson?”

“Now you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

Both accepted the swap after sniping at one another for a few minutes. Neither was satisfied, but then, nobody ever was, dealing with imaginary physics.

 

1

“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.

0

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.

2

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.

2

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.

0

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.

0

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.

2

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑