Category: Science fiction

Munda’s Theme Music

We’re rockin’ into a new work, children, hustling toward spring in Ashlandia. It’s Munda, March 10, 2025. Sunshine highlights clouds stretched thin and silvery against a weak blue sky and misty green mountains. 38 F now, but 60 is possible. We poked 66 yesterday, and it was lovely. Air felt fresh but cool, and the sunshine offered a warm counterbalance.

Called Transitions, which is the place coordinating my custom-made compression socks. The right one still hasn’t been received so I wanted to see if they can provide any tracking info or insights into why. Ordered 2/19/25, my physio expected it by Feb.’s end. We’re in limbo with my treatment until that puppy comes in. Basically, I’m done with the massage therapy when it is received, as this is a ‘maintenance’ sock to help my body cope with lymphedema. The Transitions individual responsible for my case is out so her pleasant, accomodating supervisor took the info, passed it on, and told me to expect a call back tomorrow.

Today’s song comes from a 2023 television series. I’m re-watching The Last of Us. Bella Ramsey and Pedro Pascal star in this dystopian series about a zombie issue. Twenty years after the breakout, he’s taking her across the depleted U.S. because she may have the answer to a cure/vaccine, as she seems immune.

Yesterday’s episode introduced us to Bill, played by Nick Offerman. Bill is a misogynistic prepper. Living alone, intelligent and well armed, he’s set up a compound where he can live free from zombie attacks and outsiders. After a few years, along comes Frank (Murray Bartlett), a survivor trying to make it to Boston. Bill feeds Frank and the two become lovers and a couple. It’s such a sweet, sweet story, and my favorite episode.

A Linda Rondstadt song, “Long Long Time”, is the couple’s song. The Neurons appreciated the 1970 song and kept it alive in the morning mental music stream.

Hope you have someone who helps you carry on through the days.

Coffee has met my taste buds and our daily romance continues. Have the best day possible. Cheers

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Me? Noooo.

Daily writing prompt
Have you ever unintentionally broken the law?
View all responses

Of course I have never intentionally broken the law. Unless you count speeding. Okay, I admit I exceeded the speed limit once or twice…or ten thousand…times. I had good reasons! Like, the bathroom, yeah, I had to go to the bathroom. That’s the ticket. And I was, um, I was, I was, yeah, late for a funeral. And my wedding! Yeah, I was late for my wedding, that’s it. So I had to speed to get us there on time — yeah, my wife-to-be was with me in the car, so, you know, if I didn’t speed, neither of us would have gotten to the wedding on time. So, you see, really, I had to. No choice.

And the other times it was because, um, I was picking up food! Food. Yeah, pizza, and Chinese and Mexican food. And doughnuts. So I had to speed because I was saving people from starving to death. Other than that, and those times I was speeding to get away from the cops because there was a warrant out for my arrest, I would never intentionally break the law. Oh, and that time I was fleeing the threat of bodily harm because someone accused me of stealing from them. But they were going to hurt me, so can you blame me?

But other than those few exceptions, which, you see, I had no choice about, I would never intentionally break the law. Well, except for that time I went back in time, but that doesn’t happen for another eleven years so that doesn’t count, does it? Because, if you’re gonna count that, you might as well count the time I broke out of jail on the moon.

Say, there’s no law against not telling the truth, is there?

9

In The Beginning

They told us we had to have skin.

Our mind pulsed against the news. We don’t know that we would have accepted the premise, were we told beforehand that having skin was a requirement.

Ca!ixha flew in over our head, red with anger. Their thoughts flew into our awareness. Anger, shock, wariness. Doubt. The overarching question, is it true? Is this needed?

My intellect sewed together the action. Having skin was inevitable. We were studying Humans. We needed to live among them, like them, to learn what it is to be them.

We swallowed this with hardship. But as I did, I pulsed in pride. I’d thought, I think, like a Human, using their constructs. ‘Beforehand’. ‘Sewing’. ‘Action’. ‘Live.’ ‘Swallowed’.

?sho7zn came in. They’d been integrating with others and informed us of greater requirements. We will eat. We will have body functions. We will be I. Me.

Human aspects were introduced to our understanding. We would have ears and tongues. The tongues would be in mouths. With teeth. Hair.

We choked down disgust as the Overreach began threading us with these Human aspects. Eyes and noses. Bones and muscles.

The weight of these things burned our sentience. We were to breathe. Hearts and lungs were given. . Nerves were threaded through us. Skin was applied.

Helplessness ached in us. Our eyes formed ‘vision’. We saw as Humans would see. Millions of us were stretched across the space, layers of us, shoulder to shoulder, feet to head, all looking up, stupidly grinning, waving our appendages. Sounds as Humans trickled in. We gurgled and cooed and giggled and farted.

The Overreach bestowed us their presence. “Now your journey will begin. You will soon each have a mother, at least in the initial stage. What happens to her and you after that will determine whether that mother will remain with you. We are with you the entire time and will gather and analyze all of your activities, thinking, and feelings so that we may learn what it is to be Human.”

Our being buzzed with thinking of ourselves as ‘her and you’ and the many shapes and meanings these words convey. We would be ‘he’ and ‘she’, ‘him’ and ‘her’. The contexts had been introduced to us but without greater substance for attachment, they’d been abstract voids. With the body now encasing us, we were beginning to grasp what it all meant. We would have sex. We would sleep.

The Overreach said, “Now, it is time to be born.”

Red lights flared around us. Cold air swamped our tiny form. Something roughly took hold of our body.

In response, we screamed.

Our Human interation had begun.

6

Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife related that she and her coffee group were talking about their required high school reading.

There’s a background to this. They go to StoneRidge Coffee in downtown Ashand after exercising at the Y three mornings a week. Their favorite barista, Shawn (sp?), had been on a big reading kick, reading many novels that we consider classics, like Catch 22 and Catcher in the Rye. Today he announced that he won’t be working there any longer because he’ll be teaching high school in Grants Pass. My wife’s group wondered if that’s why he’d been on a reading tear.

They couldn’t remember what they’d read in high school, though. They did recall that they had to read The Pearl by Steinbeck and several of Shakespeare’s plays. The only one they remembered reading was Romeo & Juliet.

After being told this, I recalled reading MacBeth and Hamlet. I also recalled reading The Red Badge of Courage, Beowulf, Call of the Wild, excerpts out of Dante’s Infernal (as we knew it in school) and The Red Pony. I mentioned that what I most remembered reading, though, were short stories. I vividly remember reading A Jury of Her Peers, The Girls at the A&P, The Visitor, Greenleaf, and The Lottery. They each made quite an impression on me. Besides that, there was some Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allan Poe, and then poems by Frost and Whitman, and essays out of Walden: Life in the Woods.

It’s all a bit sketch, though. Because I enjoyed reading fiction on my own and read Catch 22 and Catcher in the Rye. Papillion was big as a novel then — this was before the movie — as was the Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit, and Stranger in a Strange Land. Besides that stuff, I was reading a lot of science fiction and fantasy, along with spy thrillers (think Fleming and Le Carre). Then there was Jaws by Peter Benchley, and other popular fiction like that, such as Fear of Flying, Portnoy’s Complaint, In Cold Blood, The Onion Field, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Bell Jar, The Drifters, Centennial, The Thorn Birds, Hotel, Airport, The World According to Garp, Cancer Ward, and Herzog.

I was also involved with the Junior Great Books program for several years, and was required to read their books, stories, and essays, muddying up memory a little more. Further complicating it are courses in French, Russian, Jewish, and American literature in college.

All those books and titles start running together after a while, you know? At least for me. I admire those who can keep it all straight.

1

Clarity

Watching events through one of the coffee shop windows, he saw a car suddenly appear out of nowhere and wheel into a parking lot. Where’d that come from, he wondered, studying the lines of traffic. Just a white BMW SUV. Not the newest model and not the largest one.

The driver and passenger emerged. Neither looked human. Holy shit, he thought, straightening, eyes widening. Both of them were tall, pale green and – naked? Squinting hard against the glaring sun, he focused as intensely as possible.

Yes, they were nakd. He looked around the coffee shop, hoping another witness to what he was seeing was noticing. But the rest of the shop denizens were into their laptops, phones, and books. None seemed to see the two tall, naked, green aliens walking away from a white BMW toward the bakery across the street.

Then both changed, becoming a middle-aged couple, he in khaki cargo shorts with a green polo shirt, she in a yellow sun dress showing naked brown legs, and sandals.

He’d seen enough, though. He knew what he’d observed and pounced on several conclusions. Aliens were arriving in spaceships that looked like cars.

It made perfect sense, explaining the recent spate of bad driving he’d noticed, the unusually heavy traffic, and why others’ political thinking so frequently seemed alien to his own.

It was a perfect storm of clarity, and only he knew it.

0

Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

The coffee shop was busy. Only a few tables were available.

But I found one with what I needed: table and seat, a smidge of privacy, ‘puter power.

I set myself up, turned on and tuned in. Then amused myself. When coffee shops and cafes are busy like this, I always entertaining a thin fantasy that we’re in a business on a starship heading to another planet.

No real reason for the fantasy except that I find it fun.

0

Teaser

Contrails were etched across the bright blue March morning sky. 

Mark had a couple problems with that. One, this was 1859. He didn’t think he should know about contrails. Didn’t think contrails should exist, for that matter. As far as he knew, they didn’t exist yesterday, when he was cutting his lawn’s grass.

But, hold up. Yesterday, he was walking to town. Like he was doing today. Except, he was thinking about the contrails, byproducts of jet aircraft slicing through the atmosphere. Jet aircraft, commercial and military, with the former being used to travel between airports, enabling people to quickly and easily traverse the country which had taken him a couple years. Jet aircraft, which should not exist in 1859. 

He puckered his lips like he was about to whistle. Should they?

Seeing contrails and thinking about them were the seeds of several potential problems. “Shit,” he loudly uttered. His tongue flicked his lips. Fingers pinched together to smooth down either side of his fat graying mustache. He stamped his big boot once, then considered the mildly worn brown boot, which he knew he’d purchased at an REI. Chances were that REI didn’t now exist. Might have in the past. Or the future.

“Shit. Goddamn it.” Expanding the lungs inside of his huge chest, he bellowed, “Vonnegut.”

Mark looked around like he expected Vonnegut to appear. Nothing — not the wind-swept grasses or the one lone, high bird, or the far, snow-covered mountains — responded to him.

He expelled a sigh and sound like he was blowing the candles out on his last birthday cake. That’d been number sixty-six. Julie baked the cake for him. Such a sweet person. And so fucking smart. Fun being with her.

“Fucking Vonnegut.” Vonnegut was the cause behind the past few episodes like this. Mark figured there was a high likelihood Vonnegut was behind this one as well. 

He looked east. South. West. North. No, he hadn’t been going north. South was also considered and rejected. His orientation was a matter of the coincidences of then and now, and the lay of the land. Mountains north and south. That never changed, though the stuff that occupied the land — buildings, roads, people, and other such bullshit — changed. 

A qualification was appended to his thinking. Depending. Depended on how far Vonnegut took him back in time. Or put him forward. Same thing, different direction. The land changed if he went — if he was tossed, like he was a cat toy or something — into the past or future. He’d experienced each of those once. Once had been more than enough.

His broad shoulders sagged. “Why me?” With that plaintive question beginning an internal dialogue with himself about the matter, he turned and began trudging east.

East would hopefully return him to his own time. That’s how it happened a couple times. But there’d been that once. 

Well, shit. He’d just need to see.

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The Writing Moment

Finished. Done. Over. Completed.

Yes, I’ve completed rev five of the novel in progress. Its current working title is Memories of Why. Speculative historic fiction. Couple cups of science fiction tempered with a pint of fantasy and a few tablespoons of revisionism. 523 pages in Word. 160,000 words. Probably over three hundred large cups of coffee. Began writing it in March of last year. Started with a character — a cherub — and their imprisonment and sugar addiction. Grew from there. Humans are about as involved as Martians. Or the reverse. Azure Iarnum — AI — had a bigger role than Humans or Martians. Dragons played a small role, as did ‘spaceships’.

Next: revise again. I think I’m getting somewhere.

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