Brief random words that I jotted down during yet another fit of insomnia. 

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Stop Screwing Around With Things You Don’t Rightly Understand

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What’s more real than real (is real)

while sitting around with the hangman on the deal

aces high when the jokers are low

preacher in the middle speaks gruffly and slow

one hand on the dice the other on chips

DJ man spins coins as the children do flips

tarot readers with prophetic zeal

page history like a zodiac wheel

poster children of a future to come

half seeing knots waiting to be undone

glass is half full on an empty gut

in times of peace speach writers in a rut

words meaningless with no chains to bind

flip the tape over and press rewind.

Here’s a short story I’ve tried from a couple of different angles in the past but wrote here mostly from scratch.  It’s 4:30 am and I just finished it so no editing and not even one read through heh.  Inspired to do writing this late in part by shastas nice comment on life or love.  Thank you shasta.

The story takes place some few decades in the future in a military outfit with no particular nation.

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ZOMBIES

  Chief Medic First Class Roberts took his time inspecting the line of new medics fresh from boot camp.  Their plain sand suits wouldn’t stay that way for long in the weeks ahead as rank and special areas of focus clouded out their simple identification.  Nations of origin were represented as flags below their serial numbers.  The only real tie to who these cadets are was a simple embroidered first name above the left pocket.  Eighteen year old boys and girls, that looked about ready to go into convulsions if not let loose to fidget.

  “At ease cadets!”  Roberts’ gruff voice echoed throughout the hallway, vacant save for these twenty new faces.  Immediately following his command, and with a brief moments of hesitation-sighs came as puffed out chests and straighter than healthy postures released to a more relaxed state.  “I will be your first instructor until you decide or are placed in an area of expertise.  It is my job to see that you have the full overview of what it means to be a Medic in this army.  And I do not accept failure.”

  Realizing that the last statement may have come out a bit harshly, Roberts’ sought to offer them some praise.  “You made it through basic, which I certainly could no longer do.”  The Chief Medic ran his hands down his quite large stomach, patted them once and placed his arms back at his sides while walking before these cadets.  “And you all scored exceptionally well on your exams- otherwise I would never have accepted you into my barracks.  Our job here is to save lives, not to better our own.  If you wanted fame and glory you would have gone infantry, if you wanted power and money it would have been command.  Yet you decided on one of the most undervalued teams in the military and I salute you for that.”

  The children before Roberts were finally relaxing, and realizing that this wasn’t going to be like their old commander.  His job was to make them fit for any possible service the country could want for them, Roberts task was to take the material he had been given and sculpt the best medics he possible could.  And for that he needed a loose environment where people could think for themselves and not feel pressured by authority when it came down to saving a leg, or a life.

  “First off, are there any questions you cadets would like to ask?  Something about what is expected from you here?”  Roberts knew what the question would be, it was the same when he was a cadet and every year since.

  “Sir,” one brave girl asked far off to the right with only the merest hint of nervousness to her voice. 

  Glancing down at some paper work he glanced up again in her general direction.  “Cathy is it?  What’s your question?”

  “It’s about the zombies sir.”  Cadet Cathy spoke a little more quietly this time.  The girl standing next to her, must be a friend, poked her in the side.  A muffled ouch came from the little incident and the rest of the cadets were whispering to each other excited and quietly.

  “Ghost stories, is it?  No questions about pay ranks, time off, or barrack relationships?” Chief Roberts who has done this for a good five years now knew how to play to an audience.  “I’m sure the other cadets would rather discuss more practical matters wouldn’t they?”

  Almost as once they answered, “No Sir!”

  A smile danced at Robert’s lips.  “Well who can tell me what a zombie is?”

  “The walking dead!”  Some cadet spoke up and was met with a quick, “shut up Randy.”

  “It’s the phrase for combat troops who are walked back to base by their suits and are already dead.”  One of the more aggressive girls responded as if each word was a sentence in itself.

  “Well now, that’s only half the truth though.  What’s your name young girl?”  Roberts walked the line until he was standing in front of her.

  “Sally, sir.”  She tried to hide the offense taken at being corrected in her eyes, which peered outward a bit too defiantly and unfocused.

  “Well Sally, sure there is that.  Every poor soul lost on the field of battle comes back and is a zombie … but not everyone of them is a Zombie.”  Roberts stress the letter z much harsher the second time around.  “Can anyone tell me what a Zombie is?”  Again stressing the word.

  The kid who made the walking dead comment spoke up, “Someone who died in their suit, but never really left it sir.”

  Sally turned to the speaker forgetting her commanding office and erupted, “that’s nothing but a ghost story to scare homesick kids at the barracks!”

  “Well now, I don’t generally consider myself the superstitious kind young Sally, and every single outfit has some story to tell about them dead soldiers still in their suits.”

  “Do we sir?”  It was the same kid again- name by Randy.

  “Well son, that was just the question I was waiting for someone to ask.”

  “The exoskeleton suits were first designed to help soldiers carry more weight.  Fire power and tactical displays and better armor.  With a suit on a man can carry five times his weight and run three times as fast.  It wasn’t until later when some higher up realized we could get wounded soldiers off the field and back into action faster by programming the suits to return to base.  Unfortunately, we ended up getting more dead soldiers coming back than live ones.  They’d stroll nonchalantly into camp- even be greeted by friends.  It wasn’t until the suits were pulled off that their friends realized they had been welcoming back corpses.  Most returned troops were like that, dead- and being such a ghastly experience, patting a walking corpse on the back- someone invented the phrase zombie.  For a time they wanted to kill the return program in the suit, it unsettled the troops- but it was felt that even getting the suits cleaned up, back in the field on another soldier was worth the distress.  So here we medics are today, most of the time prying bodies out of the exoskeletons and getting them ready again for service, but often enough we do end up saving a life that would otherwise have been lost.  So it isn’t like y’all will be working in a morgue or anything of the sort.”  Robert’s took a breath before going into the real story.

  “Now several years back when I was only little older than you are now, I was sent out for my first real experience at what was thought to be a small operation.  An easy assignment my friends told me, they couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  “There was a small camp of terrorists located in some hell hole desert.  Even in the morning it was hot at that time of year, still the decision was made for a dawn strike.  Three of us medics were up drinking coffee as one by one the small group of a dozen soldiers packed themselves into their suits and jokingly told us they’ll be seeing us soon.  Of course no one was worried about much more than a stray bullet.  Considering the easy exercise most of them were first timers as were us medics.  Save for John.  He was an old guy who refused to pick up a teaching job or retire.  Kept talking about saving lives- so managed to pass a medical exam every year to stay on the job.  He’d laugh when us novices spoke up about zombies.  See, he had been around since long before the suits.  His attitude was better get them in the tent where it’s nice and cozy than running stretchers out into the killing zone.  Of course for his age he wasn’t stationed in many big fights, but every battle we went into he acted as if we were storming Normandy.”

  “They were about an hour out or halfway to the enemy camp when we all heard commotion coming from the communications tent.  So of course being bored ourselves, we made our way there.  The techie at the computer was busy trying to hold several conversations at once and didn’t notice us coming in.  John realized what was going on first.  They had a freaking EMP mine.  That’s electromagnetic pulse for any of you who slept through basic warfare.  We didn’t even think about a group of terrorists having access to one at the time.  And in any conflict the EMP was likely to do as much damage to both sides.  For awhile there had been talk of keeping a regiment of soldiers with bows and arrows just in case of an all out non-electrical war, but no one took it seriously.  The best we did in those days was to hold half our soldiers back, ready to be deployed if the rest were knocked out of action.  Those suits are heavy and after being hit by one there’s no chance of soldiers picking themselves up under their own strength.  Seemed like near everyone just stood there in thought for more minutes than had passed for a new cry to come from another station.  They were being slaughtered.  All around the position men with antiquated machine guns were blasting into the heap of piled up suits.  The chief communications officer was calling in air support but it would take time to get there.”

  “My only thought was, they’re all going to be killed.  I was so busy thinking of all those poor kids that I didn’t notice John had left the tent until someone else brought in to my attention.”

  “Some soldier pointed out at one of the security screens and said, what’s that guy doing- isn’t that the medic.  Following his line of sight, I saw it was John dressed up in a half broken down suit running full speed towards the fight.  Someone tried to call into John to tell him to stand down and return to camp but there was something wrong with his suits communications system.  The best we could get was the video feed from his visor as he continued on towards the battle, unarmed save for his medical kit.”

  “There was nothing for us to do until the helicopters came in to clean out the terrorists so we could get to the scene.  This was supposed to be a silent operation after all, with a focus on getting prisoners and intelligence.  There was nothing on standby to help us out.  So we watched as John made it to the scene and started cutting the soldiers out of their suits.  Many were still alive, thanks to the suits armor- but none were totally unscathed.  Psychologically these kids were tormented, unable to move enough to even turn their heads, but with bullets flashing all around them.  The terrorists were shouting something but most of the soldiers didn’t know enough Arabic in those days to understand it.  It was just a hail of dust and yelling and bullet sprays until John started cutting them free.”

  “We all expected John to go down fast, after the second body the terrorists quickly realizing he was unarmed turned their attention to him.  Yet his armor must have held out since he managed to free another soldier before the helicopters finally arrived.”

  “That was our cue, we hopped into a transport truck with our supplies and rushed off with barely a word spoken.  John really had inspired us and we didn’t want to look like slackers.  When we got to the site several wounded soldiers were hunched up on the side of a ridge and John was working on getting the rest free.  We went right to work on the wounded, getting them patched up as much as possible, and with that done we went to see if John needed any help.  He didn’t say anything and just continued working along, so we figured he was irritated at us for taking so long.  He was single minded and deftly took apart the joints of the suits to get the soldiers free, only taking the time to lay them down and moved on to the next.  For a moment we stood transfixed but a sense of duty called us back to work so we went to another soldier still trapped.”

  “We counted ourselves lucky, either due to Johns intervention of just blind luck none of the soldiers died that day.  Some were pretty badly wounded, but it was almost a miracle considering the blind trap they had walked into.  Imagine a group of terrorists, not even an organized army- having something as hard to come by as an EVP mine.”

  “At any rate we were finishing up with the last soldier, getting ready to transport everyone back to base, when Johns suit curled in on itself and fell to the ground.  We assumed it was cause the suit was in disrepair and out of power as we hurried over to cut our own comrade out.”

  “We tried to talk to John, saying we’d get you out in a second- but he didn’t answer us.  It didn’t make sense still being mad at us at a time like this.  Neither of us knew him that well but it still didn’t fit.  Only when we got the suit open, did we realize, he was dead.”

 

  Roberts paused for a few moments listening to see if any of the cadets had anything to say.

  “But when did he die?”  One spoke up hopefully in the back.

  “Well that’s the funny part, seeing as how his suit was already half busted when he put it on- it didn’t keep track of his vitals.  So maybe he died from wounds right when we were finishing up and the suit didn’t know what else to do so it shut down.  Maybe he had been shot up pretty bad before the helicopters came in to clear the terrorists off.  Some people even claim he had died when he first got to the scene, but somehow his suit knew to keep going.”

  “But what do you think Chief Medic?”

  “Well, I see it that John would have done anything to save those soldiers and if it was within his power he wouldn’t let a little thing like death stop him.”  Roberts rolled up his sleeve and noticed the time.  “Seems it’s gotten later than I thought, alright cadets off to the barracks.”  A series of moans came from the squad who wanted to hear more.  “Plenty of time for stories another day.  Tomorrow you have to be up bright and early to begin training on how to remove the exoskeleton suits.  Pleasant dreams.”  With that the Chief Medic turned on his heels and marched off to his own room for the night.

      

 

      

Heres my attempt at a drama I churned out this evening.  I’ve tried it several times before and this is a condensed version which hopefully is less disney than my previous attempts.  I didn’t do any editing yet so forgive languge errors.  The story I think is a good one though the telling may leave much to be desired.  It’s about 8 pages or so but I think the other two things I wrote today are better and shorter.  Shadows and The Last Humans.  I have 30 pages towards this story somewhere but this is a bit more mature though I left out some parts which may be important in the plot development.  I tried to keep the most important twists and I hope someone can see the point of it.

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Life or Love

  Bob strode confidently down the parks path, letting the leaves crackle gently underfoot.  ‘I love this time of year,’ thinks Bob as a brief winds gust sends leaves skyward as if a plaid rainbow.  Whistling some random tune between pursed and slightly chapped lips he is almost oblivious to the distraught woman at one of the parks benches.  For a moment, he is embarrassed at his noise while thinking the park to himself but then he notices her downcast eyes.  ‘Guess she didn’t notice me.’  About to take another step, Bob stops himself and decides for a change of character to see if he can be of help.

  Bob is not what you would call a handsome man, or even an intelligent man.  He has ambitions but like so many people, they’re of the sort best left unfulfilled.  At a modest five foot six inches with close to balding dark hair and a bit of a belly Bob hardly stands out in a crowd.  A journalist by trade might invoke some pride, but Bob’s work tends to be about cats rescued from trees and boy scouts helping out at the old folks home.  Possessed of a modest income, and a modest life except for his occasional reverie in the park, in autumn.  That just about sums Bob up.  He had the standard family and the standard flat above a deli that was friendlier to its customers than their food was.  It wasn’t a bad life, no one expected much from Bob and in turn Bob didn’t expect much from himself.  He considered it a fair trade.

  Yet here he was, alone in his favorite park with a woman who has yet to notice him and appears close to tears.  So borrowing from his favorite male roles from movies and books he softly approached her and asked if he could be of assistance.

  “Oh, excuse me- I didn’t think anyone else was here.”  The girl looked up to take Bob in and then looked down again.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”  Bob asked trying not to be distracted by what Bob would latter describe to himself as perfect looks.

  “I don’t know, it’s my dog- I must not have had the leash on tight enough and he ran away.”  Meekly she held up the brown leash and let it rest on her legs again.  “I’ve been calling for hours but he won’t answer.  He might have been hit by a car or had rocks thrown at him by kids.”  The girl choked on these words, obviously the dog meant a lot to her.

  “What’s his name, maybe I can find him?”  Bob had mixed emotions about seeing this girl so upset, but decided it’s best to take one thing at a time. 

  “Fido,” She paused for a moment and spoke up louder this time.  “I know it’s corny as hell but a friend kinda dumped him on me suddenly and it was the best I could come up with in short notice.” 

  “Fidos, a fine name for a dog.  I think I know what will do the trick, just wait here for a minute and I’ll be right back.”

  “No need to come back.  I’m near giving up myself.”  She was near tears.

  “I promise I’ll be right back and when we find your dog you’ll have to tell me your name.”

  She smiled a beautiful smile for a moment and said, “No promises, but I’ll await your return oh Knight of yore.”

  Thinking himself as a Knight amused Bob as he jogged to the local deli and picked up a large steak.  The owner, unused to having one of his favorite customers in such a rush and requesting an uncooked hunk of meat was bemused and was about to ask the question when Bob cut in with a quick, “can’t explain, trying to help someone find a dog, tell you about it later.”

  “Is this someone a woman?” George called out to the door closing behind him  ‘Would be nice for Bob to meet a lady, he’s lived around here long enough and a bachelors life at his age is unseemly.’  Thinking of what his wife would say George smiled and got back to preparing sandwiches for the lunch rush.

 

  As Bob rushed up to the woman left on the park bench with a bloody steak in one hand she got up as if to leave.  Startled by this seemingly nice guy turned into a complete psycho.  Bob caught the look in her eye and quickly started to explain his plan.

  “I had a dog once, and whenever he wouldn’t come inside all I did was put a piece of steak down at the front door and he came running.”  Remarked Bob as he walked beside the woman who had accepted his explanation with some reservations.  “Fido!”  They called out while walking over Autumn’s blanket.  After several circles around the park a dog came up trying to pull the meat from Bob’s hand.  “Hey boy!”  Bob exclaimed at the happy looking dog before the woman picked the dog up and hugged it close.

  “Never ever do that again Fido,” she scolded severely after the moment of joy she had before. 

  “Dogs will be Dogs”, Bob commented with a shrug.

  “Now don’t you encourage him!”  The woman glared at Bob and then broke into laughter.  “Thank you so much!”

  “So how about it?”

  “How about what?”

  “Your name?”

  “Oh that, I guess you’ve earned it.  My names Susan.”  And with her dog under one arm she stuck her others out to shake Bobs, which happened to be coated in raw meat at the time.  Quickly he awkwardly stuck out his other hand, which made for a memorable though hardly manly shake. 

  “So Susan, think we can get dinner together sometime.  To celebrate Fido’s return?”

  “I don’t normally go out with men I just meet at the park.  Even when they do come to my rescue.”

  “Oh, you have a boyfriend.  I understand.”  Bob started to turn to walk away but was held back by Susan’s next comment.

  “No, no it’s nothing like that.”

  Half jokingly Bob said, “A girlfriend then?”  Immediately regretting the juvenile question when she herself laughed. 

  “No Bob, I’m quite straight.”  She paused momentarily.  “Well if you’re serious about going out sometime I’m fine with it- but it just has to be as friends, okay?”

  Not believing his luck with this beautiful woman Bob stammered out, “sure, how about tonight?”

  “Boy you are eager.  Yet it’s the least I can do for the man who saved my dog from certain danger.  How about this, you name the place and I’ll name the time.  I have to get Fido home and get changed anyways.”

  “What you’re wearing is great, it’s just a casual little deli nearby.  In fact that’s where I got the steak.”

  “Well I hope they also cook the food,” Susan laughed again.  A pleasant sound and one Bob was unfamiliar with.  “Okay, how about an early dinner- say five o’clock”. 

  “Great, I’ll see you there.  Just walk back up that way and it’s right across the street, you can’t miss it.”  Bob was pointing back in the direction he had originally come from.  “Or do you need a ride?”  Bob asked remembering some basic manners.

  “No, walking is fine.  I just live on the opposite side of the park as is, I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before.”

  “It’s a big city.  We get used to seeing so many faces that we rarely remember any one of them.”

  “Isn’t that the truth, I’m from a small town myself.”  Reaching out to shake Bobs hand again proper Susan says, “Well it’s five then.  And thank you again with my dog.”

  Susan turned and started walking away, lecturing Fido the whole time on the difference between a good dog and a bad dog.  Bob however heard none of this as he just let it soak in, getting a date with this gorgeous woman. 

———————————-

  That evening was perfect.  George set him up in a private room off to the corner at no extra charge.  When Bob insisted on some money, George just replied-“For years of loyal customer service,” and with a wink “Good luck my friend.”  Even Georges rarely seen wife came out for this occasion.  “Bobby!  Let me get some wine out for you, and these candles are way too short.”  Twisting her head around she bellowed, “George you oaf get Bobby the nice candles.”  Turning back to Bob, she gave him some sound though unwanted advice on how to treat a lady and went back to the kitchen.

  George’s Deli was an intentionally simple name.  Up front they did look like little more than a meat shop slash one stop sandwiches- but in the back they really outdid themselves for casual dining.  George often commented to Bob in private that if people weren’t good enough to eat in a deli they weren’t good enough to eat in his restaurant.  True enough, this may have limited the restaurant reviews of George’s Deli- but he had good loyal customers and he had never wanted to open some uptown overpriced fancy spot where people wore dress coats and set up reservations.  It was why Bob loved the place, he could swing by the deli for a quick bite to take up to his apartment- or sit down and relax with good company. 

  Susan’s voice could be heard from the front deli asking if Bob was there.  George could be heard exclaiming, “Bobs date, you must be Susan.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  All the while walking the poor woman to the private booth continuing the unending tirade.  “Bob’s a wonderful guy, just wonderful.  Did you know he’s a journalist?  And a damn good one if you ask me but all those editors throw at him are the light pieces.  They just don’t know a good thing when they got it, you know what I mean?”  Susan barely managed to make an assent while she was seated and with two candles lit and wine poured half full in crystal glasses George left the room- letting silence crowd it’s way in.

  “Geeze Bob I wasn’t expecting anything this fancy”, Susan said breaking the silence.

  “It was nothing, really.  George isn’t even charging me for all this.  Loyal customer and all.”

  “Hehe, well when I first walked into this place I wasn’t sure what to expect- but dang this is nice.  Why haven’t I been here before?”

  “It’s just the way they like it, it’s sort of a family type of place in case you couldn’t tell on the way in.  George knows everyone here by their first names.”

  “And gives everyone a private booth for free … “, Susan inquired

  “Well maybe not that far, but we go back a ways.  I get food here more often than the market, my cooking leaves much to be desired.”

  “Well that’s two things about you then.”

  “What two things?”

  “Well you can’t cook and George is in love with you.”  Susan spoke mischievously. 

  “Haha.  You better not let his wife hear you or she’ll serve us what I bought for Fido earlier.”

  “Hear what Bobby?”, just at that moment Gretchen, Georges wife stuck her head in to make sure everything was okay.

  Susan, being a quick thinker spoke up, “What a lovely place you all have hear.”

  “Oh my, just for that I’m throwing in my extra special desert for free.  You treat her right Bobby!”

  Another moment of silence and Susan asked Bob, “So Bobby, what does a girl have to do to learn something about the man she’s dining with?”  She stressed the name Bobby with a smile on her face.

  So Bob proceeded to tell Susan all the boring tidbits of his life’s history.  She let him talk all throughout the main course and it was only as desert arrived he realized he’d been hogging the conversation and still knew nothing about her.

  “What about you Susan?”  Bob inquired while slowly piercing the soufflé Gretchen had prepared for them.  “What’s your story?”

  “Nothing really, well there is one thing.  I have a secret but I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “A secret?  Well that sounds fun.”  Bob said almost too boisterously but the mood that struck the room after that told him it was the wrong thing to say.

  “Maybe one day.”  Susan muttered and took a sip of her wine.  They didn’t talk much after that and before long dinner was up and Bob offered to walk Susan home.  Worrying that he had done something wrong he feared her answer would be no, but instead she said that would be fine.

  Still they didn’t say much but as they neared her door Susan turned to Bob.  “That was a nice evening, I don’t think I’ve been treated so nicely in a long time.”  Hard to believe that this knockout wouldn’t have had much better companies than Bobs he could only manage to stammer a thank you.  “No, no I really mean it.  You were wonderful company and I’m glad to have met someone like you.”  Bob took this as a sign and started to lean over to kiss Susan softly on the lips.  Telling himself, ‘must not be too hard, and not too soft.  Are my lips moist enough?’  But it was for nothing for as he was about to complete his move Susan quickly reached over and gave him a loud smack on the cheek.  She then took her steps three at a time and called back, “thanks for the dinner Bob- hope we can do it again sometime.”

  Bob was dumbfounded thinking for sure he earned a good night kiss, but he also remember how much she stressed just being friends.  It was a good night anyways, and it was nice to have a woman’s company so he counted himself lucky and practically skipped the whole way back to his apartment.

—————-

  Over the next few weeks Bob and Susan grew closer.  They spent near every day together doing everything from walks in the park to rides at a local fair.  Though no matter how close they became Susan refused to talk about her past.  After a few weeks while curled close on a couch Susan half asleep told Bob she loved him.  Bob was startled and began to move to kiss her but she said, ‘no’.  And that was that.  Bob was generally shy but kept feeling mixed signals from her.  How could she love him but not want to be with him?  Even something just as simple as a kiss.  He tried to get some answers from her, but every time the subject was brought up Susan got sullen and withdrawn.  He didn’t want to risk what he had with her, but he wanted so much more.

  It got to the point that he started to believe Susan was really married, or going through a divorce.  But he didn’t want to say such thoughts, but it was building up a wall between them.  Susan must have realized this but she hadn’t said anything, though her sadness was apparent.  Maybe it was something else, something horrible that had happened to her- yet even that subject he had no idea how to breech it.  Just when he was about to give up Susan told him her parents were coming to town. 

  “They’re so judgemental!”  Susan exclaimed over coffee.  “I can’t stand being around them though I love them dearly.  They always talk about a bleak future and that’s something I try not to think about.”  Bob was shocked as he never imagined Susan to be an optimist, but realized this was his moment to find out more about her.  “I could go with you, maybe it will be easier on you if I’m there.”  A wide range of emotions crossed Susan’s face and she was left speechless.  “I’m not expecting anything Susan, I do care for you but I understand for whatever reason you can’t commit to me.  But first off, I’m your friend and I don’t mind meeting your family just as that.”  Susan hesitated for a moment and then wrapped her arms around Bob in a great big hug.

  “I can’t promise you you’ll like it, but I guess if you’re there that takes half the suffering off of me right?”  Her eyes looked hopeful and Bob echoed along with her “right”.

————————–

  The evening with Susan’s family started off as a quiet affair.  Susan and her mother were busy in the kitchen while her father and Bob sat across from each other not saying much.  Bob was busy toying with his beer when her father spoke up.

  “You know she’s not right for you don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”  Stuttered Bob.

  “I don’t buy this friendship act in the least, you’re falling in love with her and I’m telling you she’s no good for you.”

  Bob stood up from the table and with a voice way too loud said, “How can you say that about your own daughter?  Is that why she has such a hard time with commitment?”

  All her father did was laugh.  A sad laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.  “Well if Susan hasn’t found the time to tell you about her little problem than I’m not going to break it to you.  You seem like a fine enough guy and under different circumstances I’d be proud to have my daughter interested in someone like you.  But these aren’t different circumstances and you have no future with my daughter, my daughter has no future with anyone- and you should get that through your thick skull of yours.”

  “I’m just trying to be a good friend,” Bob meekly replied.

  “And Susan needs friends to be sure, but it can be nothing more than that.”

  Bob felt like he was in some twilight zone episode.  What is wrong with this father, what type of person could talk that way about his own child.  Susan was perfect as far as Bob was concerned, and though she kept something from him- nothing could be that bad.  A moment later Susan’s mother, who had overheard the conversation stepped into the room.  “Now, Fred.  We promised Susan we would be polite to her young friend.”  Though the words were polite she stressed the word friend just a bit too much.  Bob was near demanding answers when Susan entered the room in a white apron.

  “Dinners served”.

  It was a meaningless dinner with meaningless conversation that left Bob fuming.  Certainly Susan had heard what was said, why didn’t she stand up for herself.  She certain stands up to me quite well.  The dinner was fast and proper and before Bob knew it the parents were getting ready to go.  Susan stood back to clear the dishes and for once in the whole evening her dad was approaching civil.

  Extending his hand, he said, “well it was nice to meet you and I’m sorry if I sounded a bit harsh earlier.  I really do love my daughter.”  Without waiting for a reply he turned to the door and walked out.  Susan’s mother unexpectedly hugged Bob and whispered in his ear, “though I don’t agree with how my husband said it- it needed to be said.  Don’t get any ideas about our daughter, she won’t do you any good.”

  And with that they both were out the door and left Bobs head spinning yet again.  Susan came into the room and tried to offer some apology but Bob was confused and near angry.  What was going on here?  Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything?  He managed to control his emotions enough to give Susan a hug and make up some excuse about work and began the long thoughtful walk back home.

—————–

  Over the next few weeks Bob didn’t see much of Susan.  He was upset and felt betrayed.  That someone so close to him wouldn’t confide in him left his sleep restless.  All he thought of was Susan, but then that night kept replaying in his mind.  All those almost kisses, her professed love of him and than stating, “we’re only friends.”  It didn’t add up.  Bob normally didn’t expect much out of life, let alone an explanation of it all- but this was something that he should understand.  There was something he wasn’t seeing and it was eating him up inside.

  George tried to talk to him, even calling him as to why he hadn’t been in the deli later.  Bob, unlike his usual personable self snapped that he got a microwave and it wasn’t any of George’s business.  Finally with work piling up and the walls of his apartment becoming too familiar, Bob decided to go for a walk in the park.

  Nothing was the same anymore.  Autumn had passed and now there was snow on the ground, but even the park was no escape.  All he could think about was Susan- even now, and he had no idea what to say to her.  He couldn’t just start things up again with her, without some excuse- no matter how much he might want to.

  Turning the corner he saw a group of paramedics on the other side of the park hovering over someone.  Not used to such events in the small corner park he walked forward to see what was going on.  A number of people were hovering around over the woman on the ground and as Bob pushed his way through he saw that it was Susan unconscious on the ground.

  Rushing forward now to where the paramedics stood who looked as if to tell him to stand back Bob cried out, “I know this woman- I love this woman.  What’s wrong with her?”

  One of the paramedics shook his head calmly and just stated, “Some mild complications.  She’ll have to go to the hospital.”

  “Then I’ll go with her!”  Bob stated as a fact.

  “We’re sorry sir, we can’t let non family members into the ambulance, but we can tell you where we’re taking her.”  The paramedic sounded honestly sorry but Bob couldn’t help the suspicion he knew more about Susan than Bob did.

  Bob quickly recited the hospitals name to himself, that’s just a few miles uptown and ran into the middle of the road to wave down a taxi.  Considering how wild Bob looked it was a wonder any would pick him up.

  On the way he made a quick stop at a flower shop and saw a stuffed animal that looked just like Fido.  ‘this will be perfect’, thought Bob, already forgetting the problems that caused him almost to give up all hope of Susan.

  Arriving at the hospital he barked at the receptionist for Susan’s room numbers and forced his way into an already overcrowded elevator.  The numbers blinked on and off so slowly and everyone around Bob noticed his agitation and backed away from him.  Leaving Bob the only person who wasn’t cramped in the elevator.  Finally the flood number he was given arrived and he whisked down the hall and into the room where Susan was being kept.

  To his surprise her mother and father were already there, holding each other and her mother openly crying.  It was a shock to see this display over their daughter when just the other night they were claiming she wasn’t good enough for anyone. 

  “What’s going on?”  Stated Bob with such authority Susan’s father had no choice but to look at him. 

  “I wish you wouldn’t find out like this Bob.  We both liked you and we love our daughter, but I wish you didn’t have to find this out.”

  “Find what out?  What is this big secret that Susan has?  She says she loves me and I love her.  What on earth could be so bad that it would keep us apart.”

  Another sob escaped Susan’s mom as she looked up at Bob with very sad eyes.  “Bob, our daughters HIV positive.”

  The toy dog dropped to the floor and bounced, quickly followed by the dozen or so roses precariously wrapped in a moment of haste.  His world was turned upside down.  This explains everything.  Everything.  But why didn’t she tell me?  Why did she let me fall in love with her knowing nothing could come by it!  This wasn’t fair.  I would still have been her friend.  He was sad and angry at the same time, worried and yet growing increasingly cold.  “Is she going to be okay?”  Bob asked as if it was just some random person.  This sent Susan’s mom to tears again while her father spoke up.

  “Yes, it was just a mild complication.  She’ll be fine- for now.”

  “Good”, Bob stated again coldly and turned to leave the room.

  “Wait, Bob- let us explain.” 

  “There’s nothing to explain.  Please give Susan my best when she wakes up.”  And with that last comment Bob walked into the dark dismal unfriendly city.

——————-

  Bob attacked his work like a pro, but got no joy out of it.  His supervisors noticed the change in his writing style and he was promoted to more serious stories.  Dry accounts of rescued kittens and boy scout events were not going to move anyone to find some meaning in an otherwise dreary life.  He had served a purpose to the community in all his bungling but he had changed.  With little emotion he attacked the social problems of the city, the spread of STD’s became his forte’ and he vehemently opposed any attempt to put a piece of silver lining in his stories.

  “So what if new medicines extend life?  These people are all going to die.  It’s pointless to give them or their families false hope.”  His colleagues found it cruel but perhaps if they knew what was really getting to him they would have some sympathy for him as well.  What Bob could barely even admit to himself was he still loved Susan.  No matter what she did to him, which is how he still saw it- he couldn’t forget their time together and just wipe it away.  He knew she would die, if not this year than next- so he tried to totally erase all memories of her from his life.  But the more he worked at it the more it gnawed at him.  One day when interviewing someone from the local clinic on his new found strength he got up and left.  The interviewee was left there perplexed but with the raw rage surrounding Bob she thought better of it.

  Bob only meant to walk in the park and then walk home.  But as he came upon the bench he first met Susan upon, so fragile and innocent- all his rage turned to grief. There was no one to blame anymore.  No unseen devils to curse.  He couldn’t even blame himself anymore for his own stupidity for not seeing the obvious.  The fact was, nothing was obvious.  Love is not obvious.  Susan had pushed Bob away at every opportunity she could but it was Bob who persisted in a relationship.  And if Susan was gradually letting her guard down and falling for Bob as well, that was as much his fault as hers.  So he didn’t stop at the bench, didn’t even think about where he was walking to as these thoughts churned in his head.  His feet took on a mind of their own, and before he knew it he was at Susan’s front door.  Fido’s barking made him aware of where he was and he carefully reached up to ring the door bell.  Thinking better of it he was about to turn away when the door opened.

  Susan stood there as beautiful as ever and was startled to see Bob.  “Bob, I’m so sorry.”

  Bob’s thinking reached a climax and he stepped inside and took her in his arms.  “It’s okay Susan, it’s okay.  I was an idiot and never should have reacted like I did.”

  Susan let a tear fall as she said, “It’s okay Bob, I never expected to see you again.  I didn’t mean to cause you so much harm- but I really did care about you.”

  Bob turned to face Susan as he held her firmly across from him.  “Do you still?”

  Susan tried to look away, but Bob held on pushing the issue.  “Do you still love me?”

  She gave up trying to escape his searching eyes and squeaked, “Yes Bob, I still love you.”

  “Then marry me Susan!”

  “What, that’s just insane Bob, you know we can’t do anything- I’d never dream it even for a moment if it meant infecting another person.”

  “That’s just it Susan, life without you is nothing.  Empty.  I’d rather spend a few years with you than an eternity without.”

Here’s a horror kinda story I spit out this afternoon.  I’ve been toying with the idea several ways and originally wanted to make it into a more complex piece.  But I need work and figure short stories might teach me more (and be edited easier) than a larger project- and this gets the idea across.

———————————————————————-

Shadows

  Slivers of yellow stream silken strands across a sheet of coal grey background.  Bright novas burst like paparazzi cameras blinding leaving burnt images behind.  Numbers come in sharp as if a firework, 306 and then dull out.  A voice whispered ‘elm’.  Waiting eternities in short moments and another crack of brightness and the same numbers appear and fade away followed by the single word.  All the while a steady metronome of a heart straining to break free of sweaty and captivated flesh wails aloud as if a banshee.  Dulled as if with ears covered with headphone the sound, thud-thud, is felt as much as it is heard.  As the sound approaches a fevered intensity, millions of tiny pings fall like drops of snow.  Ping, thud then a flash and the numbers 306 appear along with the solemn word.  Ping, thud and flash.  Over and over it builds until the dreaded moment.  As if a rake were being drawn across a blackboard the screech tears across all other sensations and Alice chokes down a scream as she sits upright in bed.

  Her hands clenched painfully around a clammy sheet.  Her breathes come in giant gulps as if she had been drowning.  As her eyes adjust to the darkness of her room, she finds the clock.  ‘Not again’, thinks Alice as her hands relax and she lets her head flop back down into a pillow coated with the remains of her nightmare.  “I’m never going to get a whole night of sleep!”  Alice exclaims to no one in particular, breaking the webbed aftermath of her troubled sleep. 

  It had been like this for several months now.  At first the dream was something to ponder in psych class.  A repetitive dream that held some special meaning for her life.  That was when it came only once every few weeks.  Now it was near nightly and more realistic.  It left Alice with a feeling of utmost dread, as if something horrible was about to happen.  She had tried pills, talking to a therapist, running a mile before bed every night- but it didn’t help.  It was a trial just to get to sleep at night, let alone make it through the next day.  Her grades had been steadily slipping and now it was spring break and time to visit home.  Alice had no idea how she would deal with her parents, they’ll probably think she was on drugs or had a boyfriend.  ‘How are they going to understand this haunting dream’, she asked herself.

  When the dream first came it didn’t leave a lasting impression.  Alice would awaken and within moments she would forget ever having a nightmare.  Increasingly though the images became clearer.  As if she was at the eye-doctors, each night a different looking glass- sharpening the letters on the wall across the room.  Every dream brought the still images into focus.  The letters, the sounds, each separate had an identity- but together they were abstract and senseless. 

  She turned to the digital plastic clock on the nightstand again and sighed.  ‘Great, four AM- I’ll never get back to sleep now.’  She switched off the alarm clock, set to the crack of dawn and rolled out of bed.  ‘Wish I had set my coffee maker an hour earlier’, Alice thinks as she tries to put her slippers on without falling back onto her mattress.  Stretching to the ceiling for a moment longer than was good for her lack of rest, she walks to her miniature kitchenette, turns on the light, and firmly presses the brew now button.  So hard in fact that her finger ached for a moment while she tried to decide whether to eat breakfast or not.

  Alice pulls on a pair of jeans over her long johns and a school sweat shirt over her tee.  ‘No sense getting all dressed up for the drive home’, she decides.  Pouring herself a bowl of cereal she glances over at the black coffee pot and shivers at the silver rim.  ‘So much like the nightmare, just that color of silver’.  She gets a hold of herself and fills her ceramic mug so full that she has to take several sips before risking the journey back to her short table.  Grasping for the remote with one hand and holding the coffee in the other she manages to find the local weather station. 

  Over spoonfuls of cereal Alice listens as the reporter goes on about a bad storm system moving in.  ‘Great, that is just my luck.  Maybe I’ll get home before it hits.’  She doubts this with the ten-hour drive ahead of her, but at least it keeps her from crawling back into bed.  Her breakfast finished, she quickly rinses out the bowl and checks to make sure she hasn’t left anything out that will grow mold over the weekend.  One last look around the apartment and after grabbing her luggage bag she quietly opens the door and shuts it behind her, checking the lock twice.

  The road trip was uneventful except for a good hour spent in a traffic jam.  As usual it was no problem with the road but people rubber necking an accident on the side.  Typically Alice paid no attention to such gruesome displays but this day she was oddly drawn to the bodies laid out on the stretcher.  Blood was noticeable on the victims face during her casual drive by, but she couldn’t tell if the person was alive.  To one side an oddly dressed man was trying to explain something to an officer who was only shaking his head.  A horn honked behind Alice and she realized she had stopped completely to see the grisly scene.  The officer glanced up from his interrogation and shaking his head in disapproval turned back to the offender, who was probably drunk.  Alice screws her face up to feign innocence and steps on the gas.

  A few miles out of town the storm started.  The sky suddenly became dark and rain splattered the roadway.  She was long since off the interstate and felt thankful she was almost home.  Reaching out to turn off the radio so she could concentrate on the road she paused as her eyes noticed the street sign alit by her headlights.  “Elm”, she manages to mutter but was unable to finish as the rain had turned to sleet and her car lost traction.  Skidding across the lanes at a slant, Alice fights to regain control of her car.  Two bright lights erupt blinding her momentarily and the dirty grille of a truck can be seen bearing down at her.  The numbers 306 can be made out before Alice’s nightmare suddenly comes into brilliant focus.  ‘My god, this is what I was seeing.’  She swings the cars wheel to the right and steps on the gas knowing it would do no good.  How else could she have seen this vision if she would survive this?

  The same screech runs out as metal crushes against metal, but only for a moment before Alice loses consciousness.  The trucker unharmed leaps out of his truck and rushes to see if he could help the girl.  When he sees her, he thinks better of this idea as her head was caught halfway through the windshield.  Trying to get back into his cab without losing his footing on the ice coated street, the trucker gets on the CB and frantically calls out for help.

   “She’s not going to make it, there’s no way she can survive this.”  Alice hears as the ground rumbles beneath her.  ‘I must be moving’, she thinks to herself and then tries to speak.  ‘I’m alive, I can hear you’-but her lips don’t even move.  Wrapped head to toe in bandages she feels a thud as they push her into the emergency room where she fades out of consciousness again.

  She dreams a dream that is not quite a dream.  In her non-dream Alice is dead.  A collection of memories and a driving will to do something, to warn herself.  She finds herself floating in her apartment, surrounded by familiar objects she somehow knew she could not touch.  They were as images on a television screen, flat and two-dimensional.  Gently she drifts into her bedroom and looks down at what was herself.  Asleep and peaceful, her old body the most real thing in this dream that was not quite a dream.  Alice struggles to voice the warning of things to come.  ‘Take the day off and leave early’, or ‘say you have too much work to do, stay at school.’  But such complex expressions were beyond Alice’s ethereal state.  Images, sounds, and sensations are all Alice can communicate.  She sees her living self shudder as the ideas flood her slumber.  The seed of the nightmare had been planted and still Alice cries out with voiceless imagery.  ‘The truck and the sleet and the road where it happens, I must get these across’.  So she yells in pictures and sounds until the slumbering Alice erupts from her nightmare and the dead Alice disappears. 

————————-

  Alice’s family stands around her bedside along with the resident doctor on call.  He was carefully explaining that there may be some brain damage from swelling but it most likely would not be permanent.  Alice heard all this but felt it odd.  ‘I’m dead’, she thinks,’ why are they talking like I’m alive?’

  Her father was first to notice her increased breathing and her opened eyes.  “Look, Alice is awake.  Oh my dear Alice-I thought we had lost you.”  Tears of relief pooled at the corners of his eyes as he gazed down at his daughter. 

  ‘Such a handsome face my father has, it’s a shame that I have to tell him the truth’, Alice thinks before opening her dry mouth.  “But Father, you did lose me.”

  Silence flooded the room and all eyes turned to the doctor while Alice simply murmured under her breath, “Elm Street, truck, don’t go Alice … don’t go.” 

  Calmly the Doctor waved the parents into the hallway.  “I’ve never seen this before, there is nothing physically that should cause this problem.  Perhaps it’s some form of post-traumatic stress disorder.  I could get a psychologist up here if you want?”

  At the word psychologist Alice’s father’s face paled, but after looking back at his muttering daughter he nodded in ascent, though his eyes were downcast. 

  “Alice do you know where you are today?”  A woman’s voice pulled Alice down from some plane of reality best left misunderstood. 

  “I’m in a hospital, I was in a car crash.”  Alice’s voice was tentative and unsure.

  “That’s right, you’re in a hospital- but the car crash was seven months ago.  You’re all healed up now.”  Alice turned to face the speaker who was only a few years older than she was.  A pretty face but perhaps a bit plain and grave as if something was terribly amiss. 

  “Several months ago?  I just saw my parents a moment ago.”  Alice was trying to be helpful but with the look of consternation on the woman’s face it must not be working.

  “We’ve been through this before Alice.  I’m a psychologist.  You’ve been here in the Psych ward since shortly after your accident.  Your parents come to visit you near every day.”

  “A psych ward?  But what am I doing here for a car accident.”

  “Perhaps we should get to that later Alice.”

  “No, I think I should know this now!”  Alice asserts while sitting up from the bed she was in.  Noticing a slight sting of pain as various wires and tubes stretched at her skin.

  The psychologist sighs, fearing the same thing happening as it has in the past- but hoping perhaps this time will be different, she decides to be upfront about it.  “Alice, you’ve been here because you keep saying you’re dead.”

  Alice’s eye’s close for a moment and she slides back down onto the hard hospital bed.  “That’s right, I’m dead.  I almost forgot.”  Then Alice goes back to saying the same phrase over and over again as if she was talking to someone else.

  Alice’s psychologist looks down at her pad and makes a note.  ‘No matter what I try she keeps slipping back into psychosis.  It doesn’t make any sense.’  The psychologist gets up to leave while Alice mutters, ‘no Alice don’t be afraid-I’m trying to help you.’

   

                   

Short story I hacked out this morning.  Not sure if it’s any good, maybe I should have just spent more time on the sex scene and cut everything else out.  I think I’ll focus on short stories more for awhile and try to develop my descriptive abilities and mature dialogue.  I come up with a lot of stories, but I still don’t feel I do a good job making them come alive.

—————————————————————————————

The Last Humans

  Every morning was the same.  Darkness and the calm of sleep abruptly shaken off by a bright encompassing light.  With barely time to reflect on half-thoughts encrypted in dreams, voices and high-pitched crow like laughter broke any potential reverie.  The green skins never grow tired of it.  My life, a show.  A trial of comedy and errors for the amusement of those who felt themselves my better.  I quickly rose to cover myself as best I could to the piercing eyes of my unwanted audience.

Simple clothes were all that were allowed me-plain gray wrappings that may as well have been paper.  There was no need for protection from the environment in my prison, my cell.  The temperature was always perfect, disease-an impossibility, the only thing I was in danger of catching was old age- and the greens tried to take even that away from me.

  Long ago, as one could measure time when each day was the same, I would yell at the invisible bars of my cage and the audience behind.  ‘I’m a human being damn you’, and ‘you have no right’.  But of course they had every right, I was a lesson in evolutionary blunders-a clown in a world full of physicists and mathematicians.  A living looking glass into something both alien and familiar.  They would never give that up.  Yet still my anger would rise, and that just brought more ‘ahs and oohs’ from my fan club.  It was as if I was a play actor on some old television show, my every action told by a script I had yet to read.  I had found solace once, but even they took that away from me.

  Before my imprisonment, back when life was ruled by a chaotic sanity I was a geneticist.  Contemplating the mysteries of life never left much room for me in a belief in the almighty.  I was branded an atheist by my detractors.  And though I never referred to myself as one, it fit.  Perhaps if there was something I could not explain, even if clouded in guesswork-I would have understood the mystical hand behind it all.  I would reach Plato’s atom and voila, there is the limit.  It can no longer be divided, that is the work of God.  Nature and the universe are as children toying with what God gave them.  Alas, that time never came- not until I was placed behind these walls.  Opaque by day and pitch dark at night.  Though I knew that was only for my benefit, they were always watching.

  I found God when facing the one thing I could not explain, why this horror had happened to me.  Some years, as I could find only by the wrinkles on my brow, ago, the anger at my captors suddenly vanished.  A profound emptiness filled me as I realized this could not be thought away.  My mind was not strong enough to accept my new lot in life.  No matter how I tried to talk my way out of their web it was to no avail.  They heard me, but not as an intelligent being with wants and desires but as an animal barking.  The children mimicked me of course, in their bird like voices.  Some of their vowels were out of my range of hearing, and they spoke faster than should be possible, but I understood it easily enough.  ‘whii oo goad whii?’, they would harp at each other and then burst into gales of laughter.  Like vultures waiting for some tidbit or spark to bring meaning to their own lives.  Their parents would hush them, and give a brief lecture with words like primitive and unevolved.  It was almost enough to laugh, I-the primitive one?  I was not measuring every gesture and expression from their plain bodies.

  It is hard to seek God without any guidelines to follow.  For so long of my distant life, a life as unreal to me now as any flight of fancy mellowed with too much liquor, I had actively sought not to fill my head with nonsense.  Memories of televised services and rituals gave me some game plan but I could not remember the words.  ‘Lord above, special is your name’- I fumbled with the words whispered under my breath with no idea if I was doing it right.  I didn’t even know if the words mattered.  Would God be offended by praying wrong?  Would I find no solace?  ‘Your wants be done here as it is in your dream.’  I tried again, but no calm surrounded me.  The words meant nothing.  Still, night after night I lay in bed with barely a breath passing my lips as I tried to recreate a prayer I should have known by heart.  Finally, after etching some simile of a mantra in my thoughts I felt ready to take that final leap of faith.  Quietly I slid out from my short bed and brought my knees beneath me.  With elbows bent so my hands fell before my eyes I leaned against the mattress, not sparing any strength that would be required to keep myself upright.  I spoke the words aloud and behold there was light.

  For a brief moment I thought I had succeeded.  I had found God in the darkest place and he brought me peace.  That is, until I heard the voices of the greens.  Bemused they stared down at me as if they were Gods themselves.  They must have known what I was planning.  Waiting for this entertaining moment in the life of me.  To be the first on the block to say, ‘I saw the man pray, what a primitive’.  I realized that was exactly as I had felt in my previous incarnation- for truly I was a different animal then.  My thread of salvation broke before me like a rubber band stretched too many times and I cried.

  Hope was lost but found again.  In my despair I was as a wound up toy.  With morning came routine, afternoon and evenings were spent staring vacantly at some wall- searching for some imperfection that was never found.  Once I looked up and noticed there were less of them watching me, and fewer children.  Most walked past me like some forgotten abstract art piece- a message that became meaningless as history turned the page.  A brief glance, a nod of the head, and on to the newer exhibit.  Maybe there was even a gift shop at the end of the tour, some coffee mug that reads ‘I saw man’ that would find some place on a shelf somewhere- left to gather dust.  I refused to let my emotions free to rule my face and kept them buried inside.  A single unrealized desire, perhaps they will leave me to die now.  The ring master had other plans.

One morning in what must have been winter as there was a light covering of snow on the ground.  ‘At least they have not mastered weather control yet’, I remarked to myself.  They opened an unseen door to my cage.  Without even bothering to guess at their intent, I sat quietly on my bed as they threw something into my room.  A moment later the door closed leaving no hint at where it had once been.  Still I refused to inspect what they had left in my room and remained a passive observer to my own life.  It could have been a bunch of clothing or some dead animal.  There were more greens around me today, and I would grant them no pleasure at a show.

  The thing they had thrown into my room began to move.  Breathing that was not my own echoed out into the room and my lost humanity returned to me.  It was another person.  Forgetting the audience, which certainly was getting some sick thrill, I leapt towards the bundled person and helped them to their feet.  It was not only a person, but a woman.  Startled at seeing a member of the opposite sex after all this time I stepped back and she fell down into a bundle again.  She was in horrible condition.  Her hair unkempt and knotted, her skin blotched and unclean, her lips cracked.  Clothes hung upon her bony frame as if she were a patchwork scarecrow.  Torn and bloodied tatters and she held long since healed scars upon her wrists.  Then I noticed her fingernails were removed.  She had found the exit from this nightmare that I had not, and even that was denied her.  Pitiful thing that she was I could not help but feel compassion.  We may be the last two human beings on earth, as I had long felt I was the only remaining person.  I brought her water and as she made long slurping sounds I tried to engage her in conversation. A name, a city of birth- but she would not even meet my eyes.  Whether mute or just broken I could not tell.  So I stood over her wondering if there was something I could do to take away her pain.  This brought a crazed laugh to my lips that almost escaped as sobs.  I can’t even take away my own pain, what can I do for her? 

  I knew why they had brought her here, and I stood to stare defiantly across what may as well have been leagues as feet to my green oppressors.  These cruel, twisted half-beings without a soul wanted excitement.  Vicariously they wanted to see us animals mate, not for any form of education but for the mere thrill of it all.  ‘I will not do it’, I voiced with my eyes towards the crowd- several times as dense as I could then remember.  I doubt the girl, who I named Lilith for lack of a better name, recognized their wants.  Or even that I was there and alive.  If she did, she was much better at hiding herself away, evading the unwanted attention than was I.   

  So it was a stalemate.  Days passed and I hand fed Lilith.  I knew it was cruel, but I could not bring myself to let another human being starve to death when it was in my power to prevent it.  She wanted escape, rationally I knew if I did nothing the greens would act.  Lilith must have tried this before and had yet to succeed.  Something had awakened in me though.  A caregiver, a uniquely human quality the greens would dissect and manipulate until all heart was removed from it. 

  I imagined a life from Lilith, not that far removed from my own.  Her hobbies, her family a biography formed beneath my wandering thoughts.  I spoke to her and fancied that she talked back.  I told her about my wife, who had left me because she considered me old fashioned.  The pain of it was shed as a bitter wetness in the corner of my eye, but I also spoke of understanding.  I thought of Lilith as like me, who perhaps lost loved ones to changing times as I had.  An alien in her own town.  I talked of music, classical and popular.  Of art I had seen and only heard about.  Hours went to a one sided discussion of my old work and how I ended up in this cage.  It was a harsh reality when I would stop talking and see Lilith for what she was, a curled up mess on the floor.  So I didn’t stop speaking.  I lectured from morning to night and again when the fake sun of the greens flooded my room.  As if she was a coma victim, I had hope that some words would get through to her and she would awaken from a long sleep.  We could have a life of sorts, even if it was under the watchful gaze of the greens.

  One such day came that halfway through my telling of trying to find God in this wasteland I noticed there were many greens in the audience around us, and even their young were oddly quiet.  Several were carrying cameras and a quiet reverence was carried by their posture.  Moments passed as my heart rate increased and I realized something big was about to happen- but what was it?  Anxiety, fear stirred in me- further cracking my built up armor that was already chipped by my time with Lilith.  A hissing sound started so quietly that I almost didn’t notice it but when I did it was with a rush of apprehension.  Following the noise showed a grey mist hovering just in the corner of the room but quickly diffusing to pale the artificial light.  They were drugging us, and still Lilith seemed not to notice.  I pulled my paper thin shirt off and wrapped it around my mouth to starve off whatever it was that was about to happen.  My eyes wide and pupils dilated took in the greens around me who stood passively in the background.  I slowed my breathing, filtered through the clothes and further squeezed between my teeth.  My mind counted off from one to one hundred and then doubled prime numbers until I lost my place and had to start over.  I was feeling something, my thoughts grew hazy and my body felt a rush of endorphins.  My heart pounded out a melody that echoed in my ears as if I were under water.  ‘3, 6, 12, 24, 48’, dang lost my place.  ‘3,5,6’.  Concentration, as a lost science, became a thing of time and flashes before my eyes.  Flash, the greens watching me.  Flash, the grey mist.  Flash, my hands curled around the cloth ball choked in my mouth.  Flash, Lilith. 

  And there she was, more alive than she had been since I first saw her but somehow less so.  She moved not as a human being but as an animal on all fours and I realized whatever was happening to me was happening to her more.  Without my makeshift mask and already weakened by self starvation the drug rapidly possessed her body.  She did not so much as talk as growl when she came up to me and pulled the cloth from my mouth.  I tried not to breath but as her hands ran up my chest I took in an involuntary deep breath.  Shadows edged in on my mind and I was swimming in half reality. 

  There was no order to the events that followed.  One moment I was naked, the next I was still dressed.  I was sucking on one of Liliths shrunken breasts and then I was staring across at her as the gas first took effect.  A kaleidoscope swarmed around me like a film cut in no specific order.  Pleasure, pain, anxiety, fear spun so deeply and interlinked that they lost any significance- there was only one nameless base emotion.  Death and birth, predator and prey they had no names now- they were all the same experience.  Into this timeless depth I plunged again and again with no awareness of whether I had climaxed or not until the lights in the room dimmed.  Completely spent we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  The next day Lilith was gone and I was alone.  Totally alone even amongst the greens, more alone than I would have been without them around.  It was my fault what happened to Lilith.  Not just the drugging, nor the caring for her when she clearly wanted to be left to die.  I hadn’t asked for her to be brought to me or for anyone to be placed in captivity- but I may as well have.  I created the greens.  It was such a wonderful idea, a wonderful breakthrough.  Human beings need never die of old age, never feel fear, no more romantic notions of a God or hypocritical romance.  They rarely would have to eat and there would be no more violence.  But ah, what more violence can there be than the cold calculations that guide the greens actions.  It was such a simple matter when we had the human genome full understood and sequenced.  I ushered in what was to be the next step of humanity, but that was nature’s privy.  What I created was a new life form.  A life form devoid of hope for there was no fear, of humanity for there was no more anxiety, of peace for there was no desire for anything they could make war over.

  My students and friends never could understand why I didn’t make the change.  Didn’t I want to be immortal they asked, and I simply said my work would live on.  That would be my immortality.

                   

First chapter for a story I was throwing around for awhile.  The idea is that we were seeded by aliens long ago and now they’ve come to take over the buildings and the like we constructed.  Killing those who serve no purpose, keeping some around to ease the transition and for work not appropriate to machines.  Didn’t like the first chapter so didn’t continue with it.

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Seeds of Life

CHAPTER 1: Unnatural Disasters

University of Alabama Gene Labs 9:15 AM-March 1^st 2043

  “You’re late again Joe”, professor Alice Bates called out from beneath the glare of a large organic projector.  She has been up all evening trying to understand a peculiarity in her most recent enhanced gene samples.  A young prodigy of sorts, at the age of 28 and head of the department most of her underlings were her own former teachers.  Slightly eccentric with out of control hair she still managed to keep a somewhat trim figure.  At first the announcement of her heading the Gene Labs was met with outrage from the more senior seats at the school.  Her work was admired, as was the extra government funding she had brought to the school-yet most people found it unnerving to work for someone so fresh from receiving their PhD.  This was quickly settled when after a few weeks of working for Professor Bates people realized she was easy going for her position, not to mention the research was cutting edge.  The list of students declaring genetic theory and engineering majors tripled since she was given a chair-all in the hopes of one day working with the illustrious author of a simple paper entitled-“Accelerated Gene Evolution.”  A departure from the normal day practice of gene enhancement with code found in the current population, Bates was attempting to speed up evolution via a process similar to natural selection at a much smaller time scale.

  “Ah shucks Alice, “ Joe Allen rolled casually off his tongue.  “Here, I brought you some coffee.”  Joe walked with the quiet demeanor of confidence without the need for being pretentious.  Though not the best student, his charms took him far with the staff and he was able to land an assistant position in the lab-even being that he had been working on his doctorate for over a decade now and most thought he would never complete it.  At the age of 35 he still spent most of his nights in bars trying to impress the under classmen with intimate knowledge of the inner workings of University policies.  If anyone wanted to know how to miss a month of class or fail their mid terms and still pass, Joe was the man to go.  After buying him a few rounds of course.

  “Just what I needed Joe, I guess we can over look you’re tardiness this time around?”  Alice turned and with a wink took the warm cup into her hands.  A warm mist floated from the cup into the cool labs air that she savored with a meditative look upon her face.  Eyes gently closed as her lips pulled gently at the corner of the cup.  A small sip and than a larger near gulp followed.  Alice smiled.

  “Hope it’s not too hot Professor,” Joe spoke up eagerly hoping to make amends at his late entrance.  He had been up late the night before at a local party.  Quite the ladies man typically, he probably would have been wise to have not challenged the frat freshmen to a drinking contest.  Trying to pick up a girl while forgetting her name and spilling your drink on her new blouse is not a good way to leave an impression.  ‘Ah well, I’ll lay low for a few weeks and be back in business’-Joe thought to himself.  Though quite hung-over Joe was smart enough not to let it show to Alice.

  “Just perfect thanks, I needed that.”  Alice took another long sip and placed the coffee down on one of the few safe spots on a cluttered desk.  Pausing for a moment with a look of consternation drawing her face into a series of wrinkles she pointed at the latest data collected from the labs experiments.  “What do you think of that Joe?”

  “Another gap?”  Astonished Joe leaned forward to get a better look at the generalized sequence.  “And this time it’s in our immune system.  Hmm.  What do you think it means Professor?”

  “I’ve got no idea, but it shouldn’t be there.  It just shouldn’t be there,” was all Alice Bates said as she waved Joe off and got back to work.

  The process of causing a rapid evolution of our genetic code could never have been possible during the grey ages, now near only a bit over a decade off.  For the better part of the 21^st century religious groups began to have more and more clout over Washington.  Science funding was cut and a board of religious figures was created in Congress to oversee all scientific research.  Experiments and research were ground to a halt.  Even theorizing anything that could possible have any tones viewed as anti-religious was near banned, as no publishing companies would touch it.  Science of all kinds ground to a halt throughout the U.S. and much of the European Union.  It was hailed as the age of decency by the majority of people, but to those educated prior to this movement-was referred to as the grey ages in dark bars and back rooms.  There were no public burnings of scientists or lynch mobs.  New ideas were freely discussed where possible, but were met with ridicule from near all news outlets.  The lack of funding prevented much of anything from getting of the drawing board.  It wasn’t entirely bad.  Crime for one thing was way down.  People finally found it was their religious duty to help their fellow man and the cruelties of poverty were left to a distant age.  Eventually even some of the scientific elite found the trade off to be beneficial.  Sure, they had to go back to relatively menial jobs outside of their fields to earn a living, but humankind was better off, wasn’t it?  Even the role in the U.S. changed from one of deploying military troops abroad to sending humanitarians.  The crisis of starvation in Africa and turmoil in the Middle East was settled by American dollars reaching out to people on the most basic of level, regardless of politics.  There were no more trade embargos, and with the end of Foreign Aid forever in the shadow of Foreign Policy few people could find fault in the gestures.  Unfortunately the good will presented by the religious state, also lead to its downfall.

  Things were going so well around the world that the dream of a united and democratic Middle East came to pass in the year 2020.  Women were allowed and encouraged to pursue a higher education.  Though there was a good deal of argument opposed to democratic changes by the few fundamentalists left-without someone to hate it was easy enough to separate church and state there.  By 2030 the nations of Iran and Iraq formed a new, United Arab Council that promoted the growth of science and technology beyond that of the U.S. since the industrial revolution.  Within years if you wanted a new piece of electronics equipment or gadget it came from the Mid East.  The impact on the U.S. people, who had long felt themselves to be the leaders in all things even with their change in political persuasion, could only be described as a feeling similar to Americans hearing about Sputnik for the first time.  Outraged at their loss of place in the world a new science initiative was begun.  Schools were once more funded to provide advanced science programs for their students.  Bans on stem cells and cloning were immediately dropped, though regulation was still put in place.  Derelict colleges focusing on technology once again reopened their doors and began accepting students.  Though protests from the religious communities assailed the ears of the common person, losing their edge to a once undemocratic and savage people changed all that.  It was fine when they were being humanitarians, but not when they were equals or worse, more developed than the U.S. was.  The Grey Ages as near everyone began to consider it was written off as history in the textbooks, and another Age of Reason was upon us.   

Mars Colony Astronomy Lab 9:20 AM March 1^st 2043

  “Good God Bob what is that?”  George asked while pointing at the display for the long ranged telescope located on top of Mount Olympus.  Currently the Mars Astronomy team was attempting to catalogue the various debris spaced at the fringe of the solar system in preparation of the first robotic interstellar probe designed by humankind. 

  “What is what George?”  Replied Bob sullenly who from being so bored with this routine and menial work has taken to flipping through an old romance novel left behind by one of the secretaries.

  “Those things, right over there.  Coming out of nowhere.  Tell me that’s an error on the tracking velocity.”  Numbers were rapidly decreasing from well over the speed of light to slightly below it.  Interested now Bob put the worn book down and got to his feet. 

  “That’s impossible.”  Breathed Bob running to a terminal trying to backtrack the series of objects movements.  A visual display popped up showing the objects as first being recorded at three times the speed of light. “Okay I change that, it’s totally impossible.  This must be some sort of glitch.  I’m calling over to maintenance to see when the velocity tracking system was last calibrated.”  Still slightly puzzled but dismissive of such an unlikely finding Bob continued,     “It will be just our luck if we have to repeat the past months work because we got the wrong data.  Why don’t you head down to the mess hall and see if one of our programmers is available to check the software.  Damn, I just hope it’s the software that will save us a lot of trouble.”

  George didn’t totally buy into the whole error bit being an avid science fiction fan, but was quick to mutter a yes sir and get down to the cafeteria.  Besides, this was news and he wanted to be the one to break it.

“Hello maintenance, we seem to have a problem with one of our telescopes up here in astronomy- you know we’re on a tight schedule and would like to have someone up here right away.”  A few seconds pause and George heard Bobs frustrated voice echoing, “yes, yes, I’ll hold!” as he took the stairs three steps at a time.

Moon Base-Light Side HQ 10:32 AM March 1^st 2043

  “Earth Mission Control, this is Moon, I think we have a problem.”  The radio technician said in as steady a voice he could manage.  Moments ago a horde of large spherical objects glided over the Moons recreation hall during a Low Gravity Basket Ball tournament between the scientists and the techies.  In mid air the favored Janet from mining crew simply let the ball go as she soared ever higher, staring straight up.  Puzzled the audience who had been cheering her on to Janet’s fifth 30 ft dunk of the game followed her eye movements and gasped almost as one.  For moments they were paralyzed even after the objects had passed on by, until one man realized the enormity of the situation and began to run and bounce his way to moon head quarters.

  At first the people on Earth ground thought it was an elaborate hoax.  Even went so far as to say, “and look moon base Santa Clause and his reindeer are currently passing by Jupiter”-still a popular figure, even though rarely anyone celebrated Christmas anymore.  This comment caused half of mission control to laugh loudly till the ring of electronic tracking beeps rang loudly through the room.  “Oh my god, he’s not kidding,” one person managed to get out as they dropped their coffee mug to a shattering silence on the floor.

  All over the earth these great metal spheres took on an equally spaced orbit, more even than there were satellites in the sky.  What was in their way was somehow pushed out of the spheres way by some unknown force as easily as one might blow on a hanging spider.  All over the earth people stood transfixed as satellites came burning down as if some rain of comets. 

  “Earth Mission Control, come in.  One of the spheres is moving close to where the international space station is.  It’s being pushed down, towards earth.”

   A series of maydays and yells were now pouring into Earth Mission Control from the space station as horrified people felt the wretch of gravity take hold on their little orbiting home.  Everyone stood stunned without anything to say as the fevered pitch of the astronauts aboard the space stations screams for help was replaced with a dry hiss of static.  Broken up high in the atmosphere only a few people saw the explosion as rocket fuel broke free in a large trail, quickly ignited by the surrounding oxygen.  They were too busy looking skywards at the now visible from earth glittering silver spheres above them.

  “There were over 50 people aboard the International Space Station, including children.”  The mission commander claimed solemnly as he bent over and began to sob.  One of those kids who died was his only child.  Ever since his fourth birthday he had been promised a trip to space one day. 

University of Alabama Gene Labs 10:40 AM March 1^st 2043

  “This just doesn’t add up!”  Exclaimed Professor Alice Bates comparing the gene sequences for intelligence and immune system with the other figures for body length and organ function.  It became a known fact that mutations didn’t suddenly pop up in a single generation and then slowly diffuse to the rest of the population over time, well known even before the Grey Ages.  The current theory stands that the actual mechanics of the mutation begins long before it is even remotely expressed in a given population.  Then just given time it will eventually emerge in a small sub-sample of those with the genetic markers.  Over a course of several generations it will become more present until whether selected upon or not-it will recede into the history of our genetic code.  Evolution will continue for hundreds of generations, even with no outside force acting upon it.  Her PhD paper, “Accelerated Gene Evolution” was totally dependent upon this theory and so far it has been panning out.  It was a method of speeding up the process to see where humanity was going without having to live several thousand years in order to see it.  New mutations may not arise in the course of the study, but ones that have already begun should be present and refined from one generation to the next.  In her experiments she takes the DNA from a fertilized egg, clones it and inserts it into another unfertilized egg.  Thereby limiting the age of a generation to about three days.  With gene sequencing and smart programs she can then extrapolate into a computer model what the embryo would look like as an adult, as well as its organs and even down to individual cells.  What doesn’t make sense is that according to this method, ten generations from now human beings will cease developing a better brain or immune system.  If the research was flawed, there shouldn’t still be results on everything from skin pigment to finger length.

  Staring Alice in the face were two highlighted bars that should be continuous.  In the middle a large gap appears where brain functioning and immune system responses were listed.  She’s been here several times over already, thinking at first it was a rare disorder that cropped up from one of the generations she ran through-but it isn’t possible.  ‘There is definitely something going on here’, Alice thinks firmly to herself.

  “Professor, Professor you have to come see this!” One of the assistants burst into the lab calling out. 

  “I’m over here, what is it?”  Alice says waving the young girl over whose name was forgotten several times over.

  “It’s, I can’t explain it.  Please just come outside-the whole school is there.”

  ‘The whole school, well I could use a break from staring at the screen.  No matter how long I look at it, nothings going to change,’ thinks Alice as she stands up to get herself a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Okay I’ll be right out, just let me get some coffee first.”

 

      

 

Two short chapters for a story I was playing with about a group of people leaving earth because it was too violent.  My writing needs a lot of work but hell it’s good for the soul.  Partially inspired by Atlas Shrugged’s idea on a group of people forming their own society while the rest of the world decayed around them.

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Left Behind

Chapter 1: Before the Storm

  Bob awoke to a splitting headache and a roaring alarm clock.  Turning over he rolled out of bed as he turned over the night before.  Too much drink, too much celebration- for tomorrow we might die.  The old drinking mantra of people everywhere.  ‘Perhaps it’s that the hangover makes us wish for death’, Bob thinks sarcastically to himself while pulling on a wool robe.  Finding only one slipper during a quick search he makes his way unsteadily to the kitchen.

  “Coffee strong”, he calls out before telling the lights to come on dim.  Waiting for the coffee to brew, Bob reclines in front of the television and sighs for a second before calling up the news reports.  He knows it will be the same as every day, skirmishes in the demilitarized zones that wrap like hundred mile long canyons across the globe.  At least the great wars were over.  The world’s been at war so long no one really remembers why, or at least the reasons they started no longer exist.

  They first called it the century war.  One hundred years of raids, land falling-then being recovered by the losing party.  Lost again to a civil war.  When battles are on all fronts it isn’t easy to target an enemy.  A few nukes were used, but they weren’t effective very late into the game.  Large nations had quickly broken up into smaller states, the day of a large centralized army were history.  Each small state had too much need for the resources, and the lands of invaded territories, they couldn’t risk destroying it.  Eventually major corporations won out as the movers of the world-they grew proportionately to the diversifying political bodies.  It’s an irony that with modern technology most resources can be reproduced, or have an alternative version created in a lab.  Still the political bodies, near impotent now continue to act as if they have reason to exist-even if they are more controlled by the major corporations than kids viewing toy advertisements on television.  What good is controlling an oil well or any natural resource when the same product can be churned out cheaper from small factories?  Once corporations grew to the point of having greater capital than the nation-states it was basically over.  Yet politics still comes into play even when it’s meaningless. 

  ‘Good thing Unity Corp keeps politics out of here,’ Bob thinks to himself while puzzling over images of the short-lived battles that took place the night before.  Unity Corp is to corporations what the U.N. shortly was for the world before the century war began.  The conglomeration of businesses formed out of necessity, it was either work together or set the city-states off on one another.  War is only good for business so long as nations could afford it, and by the time Unity Corp formed-nobody could.

  Bob crosses to his high tower window and gazes out upon the ruins below.  Sipping his by now brewed coffee, he can’t help but to think of where they went.  For as far as the eye can see half dismantled highways and great buildings dot the landscape.  A garden emerges here and there to serve as reminder of human origins.  The several hundred-mile once city is under the protection of Unity Corp, and only a few are allowed to enter.  The whole nation sized city is considered an archaeology dig-though is in all honesty treated more as a treasure map.  Most modern technology has emerged from these ruins, left behind accidentally by the Humanists.

  The Humanists emerged early during World War Three.  The whole globe had erupted into a firestorm.  One of the first major civil wars, while the United States was busy with battles overseas the Humanists seized the Northeastern States in a bloodless coup.  Martial law had long been declared for the war effort, but local elections had still been tolerated.  After strategically placing their own in key positions overseeing several important missile silos, a standstill was reached where they were left to their own devices.  Press releases by the United States made it clear they would deal with the Humanist party when they had the opportunity to do so, but the opportunity never came.  After several migrations of people to the Humanist controlled territories the borders were closed and little information emerged about them.  With their arsenal of seized weaponry, and after the large governments were broken up, it would have been foolhardy to challenge them in a direct engagement.  Besides that, they were remote and didn’t become involved in outside conflicts.  This was still early on before Unity Corp formed and quieted down the warring nations.  About twenty years ago the Humanists broke their silence and issued one press release to the worlds media networks, that they would no longer share a world at war and were going to head to a new world.  While the rest of the world had been busy at arms, the Humanists had developed technologically to unprecedented levels.  Truly many of the greatest minds immigrated to the Humanist controlled Americas rather than be drafted into military service.  Within an hour of the press release, several giant ships powered by unknown means rose up out of their hidden nests and took to the sky.  The power vacuum left the perfect opportunity for invasion, but before a day had passed several explosions rocketed from the formal Humanist territories.  They had essentially destroyed any technology or weapon that would be of any use by those they had left behind-except for the few the Unity Corp archaeologists managed to uncover. 

  No one knew where the Humanists have gone.  Many damned them for leaving a world at war when they had the power to stop it.  Rather than simply taking over or forming a new world government, they left us behind to kill each other in suicidal pointless conflicts.  They could have given the people the technologies to stop the reasons for the war, but instead they simply left.  It took a decade longer for the corporations to have enough power to essentially put World War 3 in a state of perpetual controlled conflict, but by then millions had already died. 

  ‘And I’m supposed to be the one that finds them’, Bob glances down at his coffee cup then back at the city before him.  This time however not taking in the buildings and roads, this time he stares at the cloud-covered sky. 

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Left Behind

Chapter 2-Waving GoodBye-2070

  President Samantha Carter paced impatiently in her office waiting for the message that preparations to get underway were ready.  The office was actually a small room near the bridge of the ship Icarus bordering that of the captains.  It has been the Presidents office since plans to leave the earth were put into works ten years ago under then president Daniels.  Thankfully by the time she had taken office, most of the work on Icarus was complete, but still she was thankful for the thick walls that offered a moment of escape from busyness when the door was closed. 

  A brief knock and an airlock hiss and the presidential office opened to let a well-dressed officer enter.  The Humanists were not much on costumes, for it reminded them too much of the militaristic culture they wished to get away from.  Normal attire was desired, save for slight pyramid shaped clothes on their shoulder to designate office.  His was black, the highest a non-elected official can wear-it was Captain David Johnson at the door.  Personally hand picked from the flight pilots to handle the Presidents lead vessel-and a close personal friend.

  “What a surprise David, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Samantha asks as if nothing was going on today.  Before the startled Captain has time to reply she raises an eyebrow and asks, “care for a seat and some drink?” 

  “On any other day President it would be an honor however …”.

  “Oh, straight to business I see.  I guess it can’t be avoided.  It’s a shame that all pleasantries have to be put on hold for such important matters.  Sometimes I think we’re little different than the savages who are destroying this planet.”

  “Surely you jest Madam, to compare our great undertaking with waging unjust wars and wasting resources for murder.”

  Samantha Carter holds up one hand to silence her wounded friend.  “Of course, you know that I wasn’t a big fan of this voyage of ours-but as time has passed and still the nations around us battle it has become increasingly clear this is our only option.”  Pausing for breath the president turns from her captain and gazes at a picture on the wall.  It’s of one of the first photographs of earth from high orbit.  “Times were simpler then weren’t they David?  People looked towards the heavens for answers, not ground beneath their feet.”  Turning back towards the stalwart Captain, “It would only be a matter of time before our own society would be at risk.  I do know the currents of dissent amongst the Humanists who want to get involved, thinking that we can do something to stop the wars.”  Looking the captain in the eye almost pleadingly for agreement, “and if we got involved it would change what we’ve been trying to do this past half century.  Go ahead Captain, give me the good news.”

  Standing almost as if in salute the Captain simple states, “We’re ready to get underway Ms. President.”

  “Very good then, I guess I’ll make my radio address.”

  As the Captain heads back out the door towards the bridge the president silently adds, “think we’ll be back one day?”

  “A better question Ms. President; is will there be anything to come back to.”  For a moment the office doors let in the hurried preparations as random people run back and forth calling to each other.  When they close Samantha calmly reaches for her notes and switches on the intercom.

  “I’m ready for the address, please patch me into the world media network”, she voices into the speaker set beside her.

  “Just a moment please madam president, I’m attempting to hijack the signal now,” the communication officer says with all deliberate reverence. 

  Within the half buried walls of the Icarus a series of encoded transmissions are bounced from one satellite to the next.  “Piece of cake,” mutters the communications Officer as he plugs in the hijack protocol made just for this purpose.  Several popular sitcoms and even more popular real time war broadcasts are suddenly turned to black screens.  The humanist logo of a human head surrounded by a ring of stars takes over billions of television screens around the world.  Radios, even those by military personnel are coated in hissing static.  “Ready when you are President.”

  Samantha collects herself and turns to face the mounted camera on the wall, trusting that the video techs will add in a proper background. 

  “People of earth.  We only interrupt your daily activities for a moment to give word of our leaving.  As you may or may not be aware, I am President Elect Carter for the Humanist controlled territories.  Your constant warfare stands as a direct threat to our way of life.  We will no longer sit by and wait for you to self-destruct and quite probably take us with you.  I hope, no I pray-that one day we can rejoin our fellow humans on earth and in the stars.  Until they day, I can only ask of you to think on what you are doing to yourself.  Human societies on earth have become stagnant due to the constant war.  Where once we looked towards the future, now you obsess over the past.  We will carry humanities legacy onward to the stars.  While you may die, be assured that the human race will live on.”

  Samantha gives the cut video signal and the world around them resumes its misbegotten pace.  ‘Perhaps that last bit was a bit harsh’, the president thinks to herself, but knows it’s what resides in her heart. 

  “All hands brace for take off.”  Blares over the intercom as ship wide lights dim and a brief reoccurring orange pulse echoes off each video screen.  The Icarus shudders as the surrounding earth is flung off violently.  After that first few minutes the craft is as calm as if it never left the ground.  Hovering over the Humanist territories several hundred similar craft rise to meet the Icarus.  Cheers erupt throughout the population holds as the moment they’ve been working on comes to life.  Knowing what is about to come, Samantha makes her way to her chair and pulls the soft harness around her, buckling in for the moment of zero-G that will happen when breaking earth orbit.  She had some training in zero-G simulators but is mildly concerned about the other 18 million humanists who did not. 

  “We will enter zero-G roll over in three minutes.  Please make arrangements.”  The intercom again interjects into the president’s thoughts.  ‘Just three minutes to say good-bye to earth’, Samantha tries to think of something noble but all she can think of is what is left behind.  Her childhood home, however many extended family members currently in war zones, the great Humanist city her people had slowly built up and put so much effort in.  The city stood as a monument to the Humanist ingenuity, the largest ever constructed-a city that had to be mostly destroyed.  Samantha herself had originated the plan.  At first her cabinet had been horrified, ‘destroy the city?  Never!’  It was at that moment, Samantha decides, that most of the Humanist leaders realized that they were truly leaving.  It was rational and made sense.  While the rest of the world had decayed the Humanists had driven onward.  ‘Our technology would only cause more harm to the people, while we used it for good-they would use it to kill.’  Samantha remembers those impassioned pleas.  Some amongst her cabinet felt technology was a solution; sympathizers who felt the Humanists should stay behind.  ‘Old habits die hard, even if we ended their dependency on old technologies and resources they would still find reasons to make war.  It might not be new reasons, but they’d certainly sustain old ones.’  An answer only half-felt President Samantha offered, but it was enough.  The cabinet agreed and set explosives throughout the city.  Public announcements were made reminding people to take any form of technology either with them or to a proper disposal site.  It was accepted they could not totally wipe their city clean, but it was a risk they would have to take.

  “Breaking the atmosphere, one minute for ship roll.”  The intercom didn’t have to tell Samantha who suddenly felt her lunch do summersaults in her stomach.  Papers and pens hovered over her desk and the President mentally kicks herself for not putting everything away.  ‘ah well, you can’t think of everything’, she cajoles herself.  The ship is about to enter a roll to induce gravity, it wouldn’t be as strong as Earths, but it would be enough to keep people healthy.  Much time and effort had been put into artificial gravity devices, but nothing useful had panned out.  The best ideas would have required far too strong of an electromagnetic field, not to mention the health risk posed by anyone even within one for a brief interval.  Research as always was ongoing, but it was clearly not going to be in time. 

  “We’re clear of the Earth.  Congratulations everybody and job well done,” this time the Captains voice echoed over the system.  Removing the buckle and harness the President gains her balance and heads onto the deck of the ship.  Past her door two Security officers ask her if she needs a hand and she gently waves no.  Emerging on the deck the main window shows the earth below, Samantha can’t help but think of how much it reminds her of the old 1960’s photo in her office.

  “Welcome to the deck of the Icarus President Samantha, I hope you found the take off successful,” the Captain turns and bows to the President.

  “It was, unique Captain.”

  The Captain turns towards the communications station; “Put me on fleet wide.”  After a brief pause, “All ships, set sail for the Haven.”

      

 

First chapter kinda of a story I was toying with.  I wanted to make it like harry potter sort of but with a sci fi twist.  At the creek they would stumble on a broken down UFO and accidentally set it to the return destination while a young alien girl who was unconscious wakes up during the trip back.  They end up saving the alien homeword of course.

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Chapter 1-School Yard

“Hey give it back,” shouted Gaby Miller as three bullies tossed her backpack around as if it were a ball.  At first she had run around in circles but quickly tired of their shenanigans and now stood before the leader of the troublemakers Tom.  “I’m going to tell Ms. Griffin on you and you’ll get detention for sure!” 

  “Hey look guys, seems like Gaby is a tattle-tail.”  The ruffian’s friends found this amusing and began to sneer, “Gaby is a tattle-tail, Gaby is a tattle-tail” repeatedly.  To make matters worse a crowd began to gather on Middleton’s playground adding to Gaby’s embarrassment at not being able to handle the situation.  It was still only halfway through recess and knowing the small gang they would not relent until absolutely necessary- even if it meant being late to class.

  “Oh that’s really funny picking on a girl like that, but I guess you really just want a pink backpack like hers,” a voice called from the crowds.  Turning the laughter at the bullies.  Gaby recognized the voice as her brother’s goofy friend David.  “Maybe you’d like a pretty hairclip in your hair too.”

  “Shut your mouth Davie or we’ll shut if for you!” Tom yelled.  One of the bullies temporarily distracted, dropped the backpack.  Gaby quickly snatched it up, but worried about David stayed around. 

  “You and what army?  Why should I have to worry about a bunch of thugs who pick on girls?”  Coming from a boy the same age of the bullies, this might have impressed more on them than it did.  Unfortunately David always had more mouth than muscle.  Infuriated the bullies rushed at David.

  “We only thought she was more of a challenge,” Tom claimed while pushing David back so hard he fell onto the ground.  Tom’s friends laughed at this while David struggled to regain his feet and his dignity.  “Don’t want to stay down, maybe I’ll have to push you a bit harder this time.”  The bully was about to carry through with his threat when a hand grabbed the bully’s shoulder and turned him around.  It was Gaby’s brother Chris.

  “Come on Tom, haven’t you been in enough trouble this year.  Lay off David and go back to stepping on ants or something.”  Though not much bigger than David, Chris was generally well liked by most people and knew how to keep his head.  Too bad Tom wasn’t one to take good advice very well. 

  “Well if it isn’t the teachers pet Chris,” Tom remarked so all could hear.  Tom had wanted to take Chris down a peg or two for years now.  They used to be close friends, but since elementary school something had happened.  It was whispered that Tom was jealous of Chris, only whispered because Tom was quick to anger and didn’t care about getting in trouble.

  “Okay, you got your joke in.  See even I think it’s funny.  Ha-ha.  Now will you kindly let us walk away so we don’t all get in trouble”, Chris was reasonable and expected other people to be the same. 

  Tom made as if to punch Chris, but when Chris didn’t even flinch this made Tom even angrier than before.  “I’m going to make you sorry for getting in my way!” Tom yelled losing control of himself.  The bully took all his energy into a wildly swung punch that Chris easily sidestepped.  The playground kids found this funny and laughed out loud.  There was little doubt that Tom’s efforts in this matter were going to increase ten-fold when Ms. Griffon drawn by the commotion intervened. 

  “And what is going on here young men?” asked the veteran teacher as she pulled up between the two of them.  Turning around hastily she told the other kids that there was nothing to see here and that they better find something else to look at or she’d find something for them to do.  The kids had heard and experienced this threat before, which usually amounted to extra reading for homework.  It didn’t take them long to leave the area. 

  “Thomas stole my backpack Ms. Griffon and when David tried to do something about it the bully pushed him down.”  Gaby reported honestly.

  “That’s a lie, I didn’t push anyone.”

  “And what was your involvement in this Chris?”  Ms. Griffon’s boney purple spectacles slid down her long nose, as she looked his way.

  “Just trying to speak some sense into Tom Ms. Griffon.  Didn’t mean any harm by it.”  Chris paused knowing that most likely they’d all be punished if one of them were.  Schools were funny that way.  The victim is viewed as almost as much of a problem as the victimizer.  Didn’t they realize running to get a teacher wasn’t always an option?  Chris spoke up hoping to interrupt any thought the teacher had of punishing the whole lot of them.  “It really wasn’t anything, harmless even.  We were just playing around weren’t we Tom?”

  Ms. Griffon shaking her head turned to face the bully.  “Is what Chris said true?”

  Tom was surely biting his tongue and his face was red as an apple but he managed to mutter, “aye” in accent. 

  “Good then.  I don’t want to hear any more on this matter or detentions all around.”

  “Yes Ms. Griffon”, they all spoke as one.

  Tom stumbled off to find his cronies while Ms. Griffon remained to talk with the young children. 

  “You all should know better than to hang around that boy,” Ms. Griffon sternly spoke.  “It’s not just that he’s a trouble maker, it’s that he needs someone to make trouble with.  See that you avoid being that person in the future.”

  “But he started it!” Gaby asserted feeling betrayed that they were the ones being lectured.

  Taking on a softer note the teacher bent over to speak with Gaby.  “Between us, I’m sure he did.  And he surely does deserve punishment.  But if I did that I’d have to punish your brother too.  Your brother doesn’t need a lesson and Thomas wouldn’t learn from it.”

  Ms. Griffon rises up and speaking louder she said, “and that’s all I want to hear about it.  Recess is almost over and I suggest you children get to class.”  Without waiting for a response the teacher walks towards the building.  Taking a moment to tell some other kid not to litter.

  When the teacher was gone Gaby muttered, “I really hate that boy.”

  David nodded his agreement but Chris just stood there with a troubled look on his face.  “Sis, I understand you’re angry-heck I’m angry too, but hating him won’t solve anything.”

  “But he threw a punch at you, he could have broken your nose or worse.”

  “I have to agree with your sister on that one, you should have shown him a thing or two,” said David.

  “And he would have come back later to show me a thing or two more.  I might know how to fight, but that doesn’t mean I’m always going to or that I want to.  Tom has problems in his life.  Hopefully one day he’ll grow out of them.  I just don’t want the two of you hating someone for something they cannot help.”  Chris turned to his little sister and gave her a quick hug.  “You’re my sister and I want to protect you.  Not just from creeps like Tom but also from yourself.  Hating your enemy will get you nowhere, understanding him will.”  Turning towards David, Chris adds.  “And you’re my best friend.  Let’s just think about what we’re going to do after school today.”

  “How about the old creek?  We haven’t been there in a long time, sure video games are fun and all but I’d like to climb some trees,” said David.

  “Sounds great.  We can stop by my house and grab some snacks on the way.  Sound good to you sis?” Chris asked.

  “I’ll fix us some sandwiches, sure it’ll be fun.”  Gaby replied getting into the idea.

  The warning bell trumpeted across the playground, saying in fewer words that class was about to begin again.

  “We’ll I’ll see you all after school.  I can’t be late to art again.”  Chris called back to them already jogging to his class.

  David and Gaby walked more sedately towards the school not saying much at all.  Before going inside Gaby turned to David and said, “I really appreciate you trying to help me back there.” 

  David looked away from Gaby and quietly said it was nothing.  Gaby knew that it was her brother who really got her and David out of the jam-but also knew it took courage for David to stick up to the bullies.

  “Well see you after school then David!  Thanks again.”  Gaby went to her class leaving David shaking his head.  ‘Did I really stand up for her?’ he asked himself.  ‘Nah, just wanted to make fun of that jerk.’ David decided not wanting to see himself as some type of hero.

 

   

It seems that the universe is heavier than it should be and that it is also expanding at an ever increasing rate.  So we claim that some unseen matter called dark matter is responsible.  One thing that stands in the way of this claim is that further away (and therefore back in time) galaxies are forming much faster than they should have following the big bang- this throws a number of assumptions about the early universe into doubt.

I’m not certain how often this is looked into, but I for one believe it is probable that a mass can be counted several times over in the overall ‘weight’ of the universe.  If two objects approach each other in space at some point in time before impact they will shift on some shared axis.  They will behave as a single mass rather than two unique masses.  Could masses be counted multiple times in the universe?  The individual mass of an object, the total mass a solar system, the total mass of a galaxy- and finally the universe.  If not in real mass than in how gravitational systems work?  Is gravity a localized force or could it be shared throughout a larger system?  There are some experiments that allow for a mass to exist in two places at one time until it ’snaps’ back into place- the more mass the faster this occurs.  At some point in time before physical impact two objects will behave as both individuals and as one depending on how close their masses are and relative velocity.  If a mass can exert its gravity multiple times it would display a behavior similar to if it had more mass.  Most of an atom is empty space, yet it has a gravitational weight- and at the same time the individual particles within the atom have weight.  Do these have to be the same force, or could the ’system’ act as a seperate weight altogether?  Could the solar system behave as one large mass with just a lot of empty space between planets?  Could a galaxy, the universe?  In which case we would have several times the real masses seeming to interact at one time.

I don’t like the conventional model of an object having mass and therefore gravitational force.  I like a step up model where you begin with the planets which are relative to themselves and then to surrounding space (the solar system) rather than to each other.  Next would be the solar system is relative to itself and surrounding space which would be the galaxy- rather than other solar systems.  And finally the universe which could only be relative to itself.

It’s a weak argument as I stated it, but I do think there are many plausible alternatives for theories on why the universe should ‘weigh’ more than it does.  And if a model such as I suggested does occur it might explain the missing weight.  The mass simply works in more than one place at a time.  A cup on earth has a gravitational pull, but it also adds to the gravitational pull on the moon and surrounding space.  It doesn’t have to be unique.  If it is simply a cumulative effect rather than being distorted and made a part of the earths total mass then it would be possible to see a ‘gravitational’ field and make out objects upon it based on the shape of the field.  That it would not be evenly distributed rather than a fairly even increasing sphere.  Another note on that topic, if the earths gravitational field is merely made up by the various masses on and under the surface- then is there a limit to how many gravitational fields that can exist in one space at one time.  Simiarly is there a limit to how much mass can exist in one space at one time.  I find the argument for ’self-relativity’ more userfriendly.  The earth is relative to itself, that is everything that makes up the earth and then is relative to surrounding space.  Something closely linked to mass or gravity bends space to create dimension.  Personally I think this is a left over effect of preventing two particles from occupying the same space at the same time in a super condensed universe where it would become increasingly likely.  I use the term self relativity often when trying to figure out what happens to an object approaching the speed of light- that it becomes increasingly relative to itself.  The ‘warp’ of space is bent back to where the object was at the last moment in space time.  The object would view that as a point closer by than surrounding space and would be more impacted by it’s previous gravitational field than that of surrounding space.  An example I use to this is if you’re driving down a road with letters on it and were currently on the letter C- it would take more time/energy to stop at C than to stop at D or further down the road.  If everything in the universe is in motion- one could extrapolate that to imply that point D and point B (depending on trajetory and momentum) are actually closer to the object at motion than the point it actually is.  You can break it down further and further as needed for slower and slower velocities but it would remain valid.  However, my thought is that when you approach fast enough speeds- the point C actually becomes closer.

  Dogs are going nuts and I think I’ve posted about this before.   Peace to any who reads this and let me know if it’s way off the wall.  I do think the concept of self relativity and that a mass can theoretically run into itself deserves to be looked into more- but the rest of it is more sci fi than anything else.