tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74915749421328350632023-11-15T22:05:50.392-08:00Pod Tales and PonderingsHoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-48862817494065930822019-05-23T21:08:00.000-07:002019-05-23T21:08:09.618-07:00On Human Trafficking and Pornography
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I have found myself wondering
lately, concerning the attention our culture pays to slavery of the past, while
we seem to dismiss most discussions of slavery today. Don’t get me wrong – the slavery
of our past was indeed a terrible thing, and we should never forget the
magnitude of human suffering it caused.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Part of never forgetting, though, is
that the memory of past transgressions, should always keep us mindful that we
do not allow them to be repeated. Unfortunately, while we have enacted numerous
laws against slavery in its various forms, we have not eliminated it. Slavery
is still a thriving business, right here in the United States and other ‘First
World’ countries.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We have moved slavery under a
broader category of Human Trafficking, and while the modern term seems to imply
gentler connotations, the reality is just as brutal. Human beings are captured,
using various means, and subjected to a life of forced servitude. In over 90%
of human trafficking cases, this servitude takes the form of sexual slavery. </span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The statistics are not encouraging
in the least. The majority of human trafficking victims are female, with the
preferred age range being under seventeen, but those outside of those
demographics are by no means safe. Young women subjected to sexual slavery,
usually as prostitutes, have a life expectancy averaging six to seven years.
The hazards these women face include violence from both their pimps and their ‘customers,’
disease, and the effects of long-term substance abuse, as narcotics are often
used as chemical ‘chains’ to keep the victims trapped in their situation.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">Current
estimates are that, worldwide, over four and a half million people are trapped
in slavery, with again, over 90% of those victims subjected to sexual
exploitation. Less than 10% are enslaved in more conventional forms of labor.
Human trafficking is the fastest growing segment of organized crime today, with
profits estimated in the billions of dollars.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>But prostitution is not the only
venue of sexual slavery imposed on the victims. Pornography use has skyrocketed
in the internet age, and the demand for ‘adult media’ far exceeds the capacity
of studios utilizing willing performers to fill. The majority of women who
willingly perform in porn movies quit after one or two movies, citing the experience
as one they have no wish to repeat. </span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The market, however, demands new
content, and one rule of market dynamics is that, if there is a demand, someone
will find a means to fill it, if one exists at all. This is true whether we are
talking a capitalist system, a socialist system, or the strictest communist
system. When there is a demand, there is the potential for gain in filling that
demand, even if it is illegal. When there is potential for personal gain, there
are those who will pursue that potential.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It’s not difficult to understand the
demand for pornography. It offers sexual gratification without coercion,
without commitment, and without condemnation. Whatever the viewer might find
exciting, porn never reviles the viewer. Instead, it figuratively says, “That?
Oh, that’s right over here. Enjoy!” Pornography viewing has reached
unprecedented levels, even among those that, historically, were not considered
the typical audience for such media. Forty years ago, pornography was
considered primarily a man’s vice. The accepted view was that women were not as
‘visually stimulated’ as men, and therefore, not susceptible to porn’s allure.
The internet, however, has proven that conclusion wrong.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Porn viewing by women has increased
by magnitudes in the internet age, because the World Wide Web offers the feeling
of anonymity in viewing. What inhibited women from viewing porn before wasn’t
that they were not curious about it, or that it wasn’t exciting for them, but
rather the perception that would be concluded about them, were they seen buying
porn or going to an ‘adult theater.’ Considering how often women must deal with
ignorant assumptions being made about their sexual proclivities due to such
innocuous things as how they dress, or even that their smile was misinterpreted
as a ‘come on,’ we can only imagine what they would have dealt with, had people
found out they enjoyed watching adult movies.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Other segments of the audience had
similar inhibitions to porn viewing before the internet. Men who needed to
maintain a certain image of moral respectability, for example, would not want
to be seen patronizing any segment of the porn market. Today, a disturbingly
high percentage of Christian pastors admit to struggling with porn addiction.
When it’s as close and as easy as a couple of clicks away, and we assure
ourselves that no one will know, it can be a powerful temptation.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Many of my Christian readers, at
this point, may be expecting a thesis concerning the moral dangers of viewing
pornography. Such aspects have already been addressed and disputed in countless
formats, and I suspect that, were I to rehash such discussions, it would be to
an audience of individuals who had already made up their minds how they feel
about the issue.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Instead, my point in this blog post
is to address that hidden cost of pornography – that which is not so much the
effect on ourselves, but rather, on those victims that we may not realize are
victims.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It’s difficult to estimate the
percentage of pornographic media available that is made using willing
performers versus those using sexual slaves. Criminals do not tend to advertise
their criminal endeavors, as that tends to attract unwanted attention from law
enforcement authorities. The videos are not going to announce that the
performers are victims of human trafficking, essentially being raped for the
entertainment of the viewing audience. Instead, they want to promote the image
of free-spirited people enjoying uninhibited sexual encounters. Even videos
that portray rough encounters imply that the participants are willing and
enjoying themselves. That’s part of the fantasy.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The reality, though, is that anyone
who has watched internet pornography has a high likelihood of having seen media
containing victims of human trafficking. Whether we like it or not, supporting
the pornography website by visiting and viewing, supports the human trafficking
industry. The website makes money by number of visits, and those supplying the
content share in that profit. Even if the site provides “free” videos for
viewing, they are making money on the site via one means or another. The cost
of hosting such a site isn’t cheap, between sufficient storage space for many
gigabytes of video data, the servers to recall those videos seamlessly for
viewers, and the internet bandwidth to accommodate multitudes of viewers at any
given time. For a small, personal website, such costs are minimal, but for a
site hosting volumes of video content, those costs are too much for someone to
absorb just because they might like hosting a popular site. They have to recoup
those costs, or shut down the site before it bankrupts them. To keep the
viewers and the money flowing, the site owners must regularly add new content,
and for that, they must get it from those who produce it.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And many of those who produce it, do
so with slaves.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It’s not a pleasant thought, that a
private indulgence is likely contributing to the ruining of someone’s life. We’re
not talking about a temporary inconvenience. We’re not talking about a job that
was unpleasant or humiliating, but which the person has the choice of whether
they will ever do such a performance again. We’re talking someone who faces a
strong likelihood of an abbreviated life of degradation and abuse. Even if they
beat the odds and survive to be rescued, they face the long-term effects of
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, possible lingering physical injuries or
disease, and the fear of someone recognizing them from a video they were forced
to make.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Refer back to that market dynamic of
supply and demand. Most law enforcement efforts on human trafficking focus on
the supply side – those who are abducting people or trading in victims. For
every one they convict and imprison, however, there are others ready to step up
and fill the market. With money to be made, the lure is powerful to disregard
the laws and – more importantly – human decency.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Where the real attack on human
trafficking must come from, is the demand side. We, as a culture, must ask ourselves
if we are willing to refuse an indulgence that feeds this market. We must
decide if the allure of porn is more important to us, than the freedom of
innocent people being enslaved to make it. We must realize the video fantasy being
enjoyed, is the result of a living nightmare for those being watched. It’s not
enough to indulge the delusion that the videos only feature willing
participants. That isn’t the case, and in the absence of the ability to
accurately determine which are voluntary and which are forced, we must default
to the side of compassion and safety. We cannot assume the best in this case,
for doing so only perpetuates the problem. </span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We can decry the slavery of
yesterday, but if we do not take even the most basic steps to combat the
slavery today, then future generations will look on us with the same disgust we
look upon the societies of the past that tolerated slavery. It’s not enough to
demand more laws, or tougher enforcement. We need to eradicate the demand, and
it starts on our own computers.</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Don’t wait until it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i> daughter, or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i> sister, or the nice girl <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>
went to school with, that you see in the video, before you accept the reality
of sexual slavery in pornography.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-91511867182431777462017-11-03T20:15:00.000-07:002017-11-03T20:15:45.142-07:00Friday Fiction for November 3, 2017
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">It’s the first Friday Fiction in
November, which means, it’s NaNoWriMo! If you don’t know about NaNo, it’s an
annual writing challenge, wherein participants seek to start and complete
50,000 words of a novel within the month of November. We don’t compete against
each other. We compete against the deadline, against our own doubts, and
against the distractions that would pull us away from the joy of creating.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">My NaNoWriMo story this year is “Blue
Fish, Red Fish.” The story begins about nine years after the close of “Marta’s
Pod,” following Josh and Marta’s son as he heads off to public high school in
small town, Texas. This story has been mulling about in my mind since I first
mentioned this period in Marcel Cardan’s life in another story, and I decided
it was time to finally write it.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">We’re still running a slow start on
Friday Fiction, but feel free to participate if you have a fiction piece you’d
enjoy sharing. Just add your link to the Linkytool below.</span></i></div>
<br />
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start LinkyTools script --></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=282574" type="text/javascript"></script></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
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<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blue
Fish, Red Fish</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">By Rick Higginson</span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter
1</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The airliner taxied to the gate and
eased to a stop. Many of the passengers immediately stood and retrieved their
carry-on luggage from the overhead bins, only to wait in the jammed aisle for
the door to open. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The teen-aged boy in seat 29-E
remained seated, earning him an annoyed look from the passenger in the window
seat as she climbed over him to join the unmoving queue in the aisle. He gave
her displeasure little thought, as he hadn’t seen her so much as crack a hint
of a smile since she’d boarded the aircraft, nor extended even basic courtesies
to the flight attendants or other passengers.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>As the line finally started to move,
the man who had occupied the aisle seat next to him caught his eye one last
time, and shot him a politician’s smile. “You think about what I told you,
okay?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Sure,” he replied, holding up the
man’s business card. “I’ve got your number.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">More important, I’ve got the number of just how big a scam your
marketing scheme is, and I’m sure they don’t recruit fourteen-year-olds into
the ranks, even if I wanted in on it.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“There ya go,” the man said before
heading for the exit.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He continued to wait in his seat
until the crowd thinned to allow ample room in the aisle, and only then did he
rise. A tall woman gestured for him to go ahead, her smile as warm as the
businessman’s had been phony.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Thanks, but I still need to get my
bag,” he said.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“This blue one?” she asked.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yeah.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She pulled it down and handed it to
him. “Y’all go ahead. You’ve been so patient, waiting here, and I’m sure you’d
rather be off’n this thing already.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Thank you, though, really, I’m not
in any hurry.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I ain’t, either. I’ve got about
five hours or so ‘till my connecting flight, so I’ve got plenty of time to
kill.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He held the bag in front of him,
making his way up the narrow aisle towards the exit. The flight crew smiled and
extended the obligatory parting greetings as he turned towards the exit. The
moment he entered the jetbridge, the heat and humidity of the late Texas summer
hit him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As if I needed another reason to
think this wasn’t such a great idea.</i> His dark glasses slipped down his
nose, and he pushed them back up with one finger.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The air conditioned terminal was
almost as much of a shock. Many of the other passengers seemed to relish the
cold air, lamenting the upcoming moment when they would again step outside.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He bypassed the baggage claim area,
heading instead for the nearest area outside the security screening stations.
An old man stood a short ways farther, watching the passing crowds with attentive
interest. He waved to get the old man’s attention, dodging through the hurrying
bodies to reach the man. “Hi Grandpa. Been waiting long?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>His grandfather drew him into an
embrace. “Not too long, really. I had some time for a cup of coffee and to read
the paper. It’s good to see you, Mar- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Paul.</i>”
He shook his head. “That’s gonna take some getting used to.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Tell me about it.” He shifted his
bag to his other shoulder. “Did my stuff reach you okay?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yeah, it got there on Tuesday. It’s
still sitting in the entryway, since neither of us felt up to trying to carry
it to your room.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’ll move it and get it all put
away when we get there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa turned and started walking.
“We better get going. We got over a hundred miles of driving, once we get out
of the airport traffic mess, and I’m not supposed to be driving after dark
anymore.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Outside the terminal, the heat and
humidity hit him again, and by the time they reached the car in the parking
lot, he was wishing to be home again, where the sea breeze kept the days cool,
and the air smelled of brine instead of jet exhaust.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Paul slid into the passenger seat.
“This is nice. I don’t think you had this the last time I visited.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa snorted. “I made the mistake
of mentioning to your Uncle Mark that my truck needed some work. He and your
mama decided we needed something new and reliable, and bought us this. It’s
easier for your grandmother to get in and out of, and gets much better mileage
than my truck ever did, so my early objections have kinda vanished.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Where is Grandma? I thought she’d
want to come out to meet me, too.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“She did, but she threw her back out
yesterday, and when that happens, she needs to lay flat as much as possible for
a few days.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Once they were finally away from the
airport, his grandfather heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, at least that much is
behind us. Are you hungry? It’s a couple of hours to home, and then it’ll be a
little while ‘till dinner.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yeah. I had a late breakfast before
getting on the plane, but that little bag of snacks they give you during the
flight, doesn’t do much.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa pulled into a fast-food
drive-through. “Know what you want?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He looked over the menu. “How about
the Number 3, with coke for the drink.” He started to pull his wallet from his
pocket.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa waved him away. “Don’t worry
about it. Your Dad’s sending us money to cover your expenses, and knowing him,
it’s going to be more than needed. In the meantime, I can buy my grandson a
hamburger and fries.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He ate carefully while they moved
along the highway, doing his best to not drop anything on the clean car
interior. When he finished, he put the trash back into the bag, and placed it
between his feet on the floor. “So, how are you both liking the new place?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s nice, so far. Rancho del
Torito is just big enough to have what we need, but still small enough that it
doesn’t have the big city problems. Small town problems, yeah, but not the big
city ones. It’s mostly quiet at night, and folks tend to watch out for their
neighbors.” He cut a quick sidelong glance towards Paul. “I was told to stress
to you, though, that you need to be real careful to keep up your identity as
Paul Lawton, and not let anyone know that it’s not your real name. One of the
things that small towns tend to be real good at, is gossip. If someone finds
out who your parents are, it won’t be long until the whole town knows it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Paul grunted. “Maybe then, I could
just go home.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You need to think of this as home
for a while.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Sure, that’ll be real easy. What is
it? Five hundred miles to the nearest ocean?” He stared out the window at the
passing scenery. “I’ve never spent more than a couple of weeks away from the
ocean before.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s a bit under four hundred miles
– I checked.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Four hundred miles. I feel much
better, then.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You know, kiddo, if you give it a
chance, you might just find that there will be things you like about living in
Rancho del Torito.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I might like it better if it’d been
my idea and my choice. I was asked what I thought of the idea, but the decision
wasn’t mine.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa let out a long sigh. “I know
your parents discussed it with you, and explained their reasons. You need the
chance to live like a normal kid for once, instead of always being the
‘Mermaid’s son.’ If you’re going to attend any kind of college or university, you
also need to know what it’s like to attend a conventional school with typical
classes, instead of the way Angela Williams handles things out there on the
island.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I like the way Mrs. Williams does
her classes.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I was told this was discussed
before your sister was born. Your mother realized it was important for you to
learn how to live like regular people, before you became so ingrained with how
things are in the Pod, that you can’t function in the real world.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I can function in the real world
just fine.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa gave a wry smile. “Then you
shouldn’t have any trouble proving it out here. Besides, you coming here isn’t
just about you. Whether you want to admit it now or not, you did say you would
be willing to come out here and help your grandmother and me with things we
just can’t do as easily for ourselves these days.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He nodded, though the admission was
reluctant. “It – just sounded easier when it was just discussed as a
possibility.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Don’t forget, either, the deal your
Dad made with you. You graduate High School out here with reasonable grades,
you’ll get your own sailboat.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That’s another thing I’m going to
miss. I don’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t go places on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bitter Pill.</i> I think Dad’s boat
feels as much like home as the family room.” He looked at the land off the
highway. “It doesn’t look like there’s much place to sail a boat around here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“There are a few decent sized lakes
nearby. It might not be exactly the same as ocean sailing, but I suspect the
basics are the same.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Not that I have a boat out here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Are you going to find something
wrong with everything I suggest? Dang, I can’t believe I forgot just how
negative a teen-ager can be. Did you talk that way around your Mama and Aunt
Eva?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He chuckled. “Not very often.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“And you’re not thinking to yourself
right now, just what they would say to this conversation?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>As soon as Grandpa suggested it, his
imagination went to the two matriarchs of the Pod. He could hear their voices
in his mind, with his mother’s gentle, but unyielding, encouragement, and his
aunt’s firm, no-nonsense admonitions. “Well, I was managing to avoid it, until
you brought them up.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You think about what they would
say, and don’t give your grandmother or me any reason to call them up and bring
them into any disagreements we have, and I think we’ll all get along just fine.
Your mother told us to not hesitate to call if we started having any trouble
with you, but I’d like to avoid that if we can.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Me, too.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They were quiet for a while, and
Grandpa turned on the car stereo. The station displayed as “Classic Rock,”
which seemed like a nice way of saying, “moldy oldies.” Paul watched the Texas
landscape pass by. He’d been to visit his grandparents before, when they still
lived in a suburb of Dallas, but they’d never driven much outside of the city.
It was one thing to look at a map and see how big Texas appeared, compared to
the other lower forty-eight states. It was another to speed along a highway,
and realize for the first time, they could drive at this speed for hours and
hours, and still not leave Texas.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He finally broke the silence. “Why
did you and Grandma move to Texas, anyway? Didn’t you two live on the east
coast before?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We had a couple of reasons. One was
the weather. The winters here don’t get quite as cold, which makes them easier
on our arthritis, and two, the cost of living out here is lower than what we
were paying before. Our retirement account stretches a lot farther here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Not that Mom and Dad would ever let
you two go without.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“When we first moved to Texas, we
didn’t know about your Mom.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s hard for me to remember when
the Pod was still secret. I vaguely remember when the secret broke, but I
wonder sometimes if I’m actually remembering it, or if I think I remember it
because I’ve heard the story so many times.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Well, I remember it pretty clearly.
Finding out you have a daughter you never knew about is pretty significant.
Finding out that daughter is a mermaid? Mermaids have been real to you for your
whole life, but for the rest of us, they were the stuff of fantasy and
mythology up until ten years ago.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa steered the car down the
off-ramp. “Back roads from here on out.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They rolled between cultivated
fields and expanses of wild trees, far removed from the dense neighborhoods of
the Dallas/Fort Worth metropolis. The air smelled different from either the
urban areas or the island, and he wondered how long it would take for him to
acclimate to the point of not noticing any longer.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A few miles and a couple of turns
later, they passed the sign marking the town limits for Rancho del Torito.
Large, generously spaced houses lined the main street. At the third side street
from the town limits, Grandpa turned right, drove three short blocks, and
turned left. At the second house from the corner, he steered into the driveway,
hit a button on the overhead console, and then waited while the garage door
opened. “We looked at a nice two-story house here in town, but decided stairs
might not be the best with our arthritis. Plus, if Mark comes out to visit, a
single story will work better for him, too.” He parked in the garage, pushed
the button again to close the door, and shut off the engine. “Though I might
have been better not bothering to park in the garage yet. Unless your
grandmother’s back is feeling a lot better than when I left, I’ll probably need
to go get all of us some dinner somewhere.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Paul opened his door. “If you have
food in the fridge, I can cook dinner.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Grandpa stopped halfway out of the
car to look at him. “You can cook?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Skip has been teaching me. I
started hanging out in the kitchen to listen to his Navy stories, and started
asking questions about what he was doing. He figured if I was going to spend so
much time there anyway, I might as well learn a useful skill.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“So you like cooking?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He shrugged. “I like eating, and I
gotta admit, it is kinda cool to actually cook something yourself and have it
turn out great.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Well, then, we’ll see how Grandma
is feeling, and then see what’s available, and if it’s something you know how
to cook.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-3036589819763801802017-10-29T19:02:00.000-07:002017-10-29T19:02:53.650-07:00Sunday Excerpt / Friday Fiction for October 29, 2017<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">This is posting late for Friday Fiction,
so it’s kind of a combination of Friday Fiction and Sunday Excerpt. “The
Historian Project” is likely going to be on hold for a little while, since
NaNoWriMo begins this week, and my writing attention will be devoted to this
year’s project, “Blue Fish, Red Fish.” If you’d like to participate, please add
your link to the LinkyTool below.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">My first NaNoWriMo was in 2006, and my
project then was the third story in the Pod series, “The Daedalus Child,” about
a young man with his arms engineered into functional wings. This still remains
one of my favorite stories, and since Hallowe’en is this week, I thought this
excerpt would be appropriate. It's a bit long for my excerpts, but I think the chapter is best shared in its entirety.</span></i></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16pt; margin: 0px;">The Daedalus Child</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16pt; margin: 0px;">Chapter 5</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; margin: 0px;">J</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">anice’s opinion
of Park security changed over the remainder of the summer and into the
fall.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She had expected them to tolerate
her one dinner, but to resist any attempts for future visits with Bobby and
Helen.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Instead, they smiled and made no
notice of the growing friendship.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The
number of evenings she could be found at the apartment, playing games or
watching movies with the Malachs, became more frequent and just another part of
the routine.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">She
sat with Helen one afternoon on her day off while Bobby was performing in the
live-action show.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Do you think he would
enjoy getting out among regular people for an evening?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’m sure he would,” Helen
said.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Not that I think he would be
allowed to, or that he’d be able to walk around unnoticed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’ve thought about that, and I have
an idea.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She explained her thoughts,
gratified to see that Helen’s smile indicated she liked the plan.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A few weeks later, she waited for
him in his apartment, watching the Park crowds through one of the small windows.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">He
returned in the late afternoon, commenting on how it seemed the Park got
stranger every year for the Halloween season. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“At least it will be over tomorrow,” he
said.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“They’ll start getting all the
Christmas decorations in place, but the weird stuff will be done.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He looked around.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Where’s Grandma?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“She’s taking Kyle around
trick-or-treating tonight.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He finally noticed her outfit.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You’re in costume, too.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What are you wearing?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s my Renaissance Faire dress; do
you like it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s nice, but why are you wearing it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s Halloween, and you and I are
going out to a movie.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She pulled a long
black hooded robe from a bag.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Going out?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I thought the plan was to just watch movies
here tonight.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They’re never going to
allow this.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“They won’t even know,” she
said.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You’ll put this on; it has a
skull mask to go over your face, so no one has to know who you are except me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“But they’ll see us going out
through the employee exits.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“And why would you need to go out
through any exit?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It’s almost dark; all
you need to do is fly out after sunset and meet me nearby.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>No one is going to question me walking out by
myself; you meet me, put the robe on, and we drive to a theater where no one is
going to think anything strange of a couple in costume on Halloween night.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Can we really get away with this?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Why not?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>You’re not going out as Daedalus, so what
worry is there of your possibly doing anything to detract from the image of the
character?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Tonight, you’re going out as
Death, and it’s really hard to damage his reputation.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He smiled as he warmed up to the
idea.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Okay; let me eat some dinner, and
then I’ll take the elevator to the roof.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Where should I meet you?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“A friend of mine works at the hotel
across the street.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She gave me a pass
key that will let me get on the roof.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>That will be a good place to meet with minimal chance of anyone seeing
us, and also provide a good place for you to take off from to fly back here
afterwards.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“This is crazy, but I like it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I mean, a real theater; wow.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“With a 3-D movie, even,” she said,
and smiled.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’ll see you across the
street in a few minutes.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I’m sure it
will take me longer to get there than it will take you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She rode the elevator down and
headed for the employee exit.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>No one
paid her much more mind than simple greetings, other than the normal check of
her bag at the door to be sure she wasn’t taking anything out she shouldn’t.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She pulled out of the parking lot
onto the busy boulevard, and took longer to drive the short distance to the
hotel than it would have taken her to walk it.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Parking in the visitor section, she proceeded to the elevator, where her
key allowed her to select the roof.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She
stood in the dark for a few minutes before Bobby dropped down beside her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“This is the first time I’ve been
outside the Park without a handler since I signed that contract,” he said.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Man, it feels good.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She took out the robe and helped him
into it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A full-length zipper closed it
in front, and once she had the skull mask on his face, the hood went over the
top of his head.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Can you see through
the mask all right?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Just fine,” he said.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They rode the elevator back to the
ground floor, and blended in with everyone else in costume in the lobby.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was tricky getting him into the car,
considering the length of his arms, but with the seat reclined a bit and pulled
all the way back, they managed.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Are you okay like that?” she asked,
as they merged onto the freeway.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It feels strange riding like this,
but I’m not uncomfortable.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Does my
grandmother know about this?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Who do you think helped me set all
this up?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She made your robe, and that’s
why she has Kyle tonight.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Jan?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Is this a date?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I suppose it is, if you want it to
be.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’ve never been on a date before.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Then, sure; it’s a date.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I haven’t been on one in a couple of years,
either, and it would be a shame to let this year go by without both of us
having one to remember.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>With tickets already in hand, she
led him past the line of other moviegoers, many of whom also wore
costumes.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The only statement she heard
in reference to the two of them was one person wishing they’d thought to buy
their tickets in advance.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They took seats in back of the
theater, and when the reels started she slipped the mask from his face and put
the 3-D glasses on him.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He made
occasional appreciative comments on the effects, but other than that they
watched the movie without conversation.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She’d seen it before a number of
times, and even in 3-D, but based on his reaction it was the first time he’d
watched that movie.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>His fascination with
it renewed her own enjoyment of the show, to the point she thought the end
credits appeared far too soon.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Removing the glasses from his face,
she replaced the mask before the lights came up in the theater.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>While the chance of someone recognizing him
outside the context of the Park was slim, they both agreed it was better to not
risk it.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>As it had been in the hotel lobby,
the crowds in the theater paid them little notice, and more often than not when
someone did look their way, they were gawking at her bosom, pushed up by the
tight bodice she wore.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>More than once,
she caught his eyes straying to her bust.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>She smiled.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Once in a while, it
was nice to be admired for her appearance, and most of the time he gave scant
indication that he thought much about how she looked.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They got into the car, and she
looked at the time on the dashboard clock.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>“Are you ready to go home yet?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Can I wait until the stroke of
midnight and see if the car turns into a pumpkin first?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Well, I have to work tomorrow, so I
really can’t be out that late.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We could
stop and get a milkshake, though.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’d like that.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She searched for and found a certain
fast-food place, and pulled into the drive-through lane.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Two pumpkin pie shakes,” she ordered, and
proceeded to the pick-up window.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She
placed the shakes in the cup holders, and headed down the freeway once
again.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>When she selected an off ramp, it
was to park at the beach.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They sat in the front seats with the
windows rolled down, shivering slightly from the cool ocean breeze and the cold
milkshakes they were drinking.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You know, the first time I ever saw
the ocean was from a helicopter?” he said.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>“That same day was the first time I ever went swimming.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s hard to picture you swimming.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s hard to say no to Brenda.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She was pretty persuasive at getting me into
the water.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He lifted the milkshake to
his face, holding the cup between the heels of his thumbs.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He drew in a large mouthful through the
straw, savored it for a moment, and swallowed.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>“She convinced me to dance with her, too.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>If you have a hard time picturing me
swimming, imagine me dancing in the water with a merrow.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“A merrow?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s what the Pod call themselves,
instead of mermaids and mermen.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Brenda
is one of them, and she was the one that told me I should get an agent and try
to make a living off my wings.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You sound like you have a
girlfriend; are you sure you’ve never been on a date before?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I don’t think she qualifies as a
girlfriend.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We write to each other a
lot, but we’ve never even so much as hinted at a romantic relationship.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She was the first girl about my age that I
ever talked to, though, and it was nice that she understood what it was like to
have been engineered to be so different.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“She sounds nice.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“She’s a lot of fun, and around her
was the first time in my life that someone besides my grandmother and Tina made
me feel like I wasn’t some hideous monster.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>From the moment the Pod saw me, they just accepted me for who I am.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I can’t imagine why anyone would
think of you as a monster.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Listen to that preacher, Rusty
Phillips.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He thinks I’m some kind of
demon-spawn.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Phillips is a lunatic; don’t pay
any attention to him.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“He may be a lunatic, but he does
have a point.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Admit it, Jan; if I’d put
on red body-paint tonight and a pair of horns, I would have looked perfect as a
devil.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Angels are drawn with gorgeous
white-feathered wings, while demons have fleshy, bat-like wings.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>People who buy into the traditional imagery
are going to think I look evil.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How do they know angels don’t have
bat-wings?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Who’s to say what an angel’s
wings look like?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You don’t have to convince me; I
don’t see something evil when I look in the mirror.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I don’t see something evil when I
look at you, either,” she said, and then laughed.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Though in that black cloak and skull mask,
you don’t exactly look benevolent, either.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Maybe not, but you were right; it
worked.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>No one gave me anything more
than a passing glance tonight.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>For the
first time in my life, I’ve been out among regular people and I didn’t have to
worry about what they might think of me, or if I’m going to terrify someone.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She checked the time.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We better get back; it’s going to be hard
enough getting up in the morning as it is.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They drove back to the hotel,
exchanging small talk.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The lobby was
mostly deserted when they entered, and the desk clerk looked up just enough to
register their presence before going back to whatever he was doing on his
computer.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She used the key in the
elevator again, and they stepped out into the cool night air on the rooftop.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I had a great time this evening,
Jan; thank you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I had fun, too.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It’s too bad Halloween only comes once a
year.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She flipped the hood back from
his head, and unzipped the front of the cloak.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>“You won’t have any problem finding your landing spot in the dark?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’ve done night-flights before when
I’ve had problems getting to sleep.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I
can find my rooftop without any trouble at all.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’ll be over to pick Kyle up in a
few minutes, so I’ll see you at your apartment then.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Is the date over now?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’m afraid so, Bobby.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He sighed, and started to turn away.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Well, except for one thing,” she
said, touching him on the shoulder.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She
turned him back to face her and slipped a hand behind his head.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Giving him a quick kiss, she looked into his
eyes with a smile.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You know, you’re
supposed to kiss back when someone kisses you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He hesitated, and then brought his
lips to meet hers, wrapping his wings around her body.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>His kiss was tentative and unsure.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I really don’t know what I’m doing,” he
whispered.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s okay,” she said.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You’re doing fine.” She kissed him again,
putting more feeling into the gesture.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>When she drew back, she said, “Now the date is over.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He smiled and drew his arms away
from her.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I hope we can do this again
sometime.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I do, too.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He went to the edge and stretched
his wings a few times.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Crouching down
first, he leapt off into the dark.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She returned to her car, and sat in
the parking lot for a few moments, sorting through her thoughts.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The kiss had never been part of the
plan.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They were supposed to just go out
to a movie, maybe get something to drink, and then come home.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The beach; the kiss; she’d made it into a
real date.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She turned on the lighted visor
mirror and looked at herself.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Is that
really what you wanted all along, Jan?<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Did you just convince yourself you were doing something nice for him,
when all along you wanted to remember what it was like when a guy wanted to go
out with you just for you?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Someone had warned her when she was
pregnant with Kyle; having kids changes things.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>People treat you differently.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She
hadn’t wanted to believe them, but learned all too soon the truth of it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>So many guys that were charming and wonderful
ran like scared rabbits the moment she uttered the words, “my son”.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Not Bobby, though.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He’d included Kyle in his first invitation to
her.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He was crazy about the boy and
enjoyed hanging out with him.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A small
voice echoed in her mind.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t fall for a guy just to get a daddy for
Kyle</i>.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Why did life have to be so
confusing?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 14.66px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "garamond";"></span>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-55003393297257171102017-10-20T20:16:00.001-07:002017-10-20T20:16:21.871-07:00Friday Fiction for October 20, 2017
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">Friday Fiction this week is hosted by
the talented and imaginative <a href="http://saraharricharan.com/2017/10/golden-flames-friday-fiction/" target="_blank">Sara Harricharan, over on her blog</a>. If you haven’t
been over there yet to read her story, make sure you don’t miss it!</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">This week is the third part of “The
Historian Project.” I’m not sure how long this story will end up being, but I’m
enjoying where it’s going so far.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
Historian Project, Part 3</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">By Rick Higginson</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“No, the red compact should be my
brother Sid.” Manziel walked to the window and looked out. “Funny – even at
this speed, he still seems to move slower than most people. Sid was never much
of a go-getter. I think he’s spent more time on unemployment than he has being
employed. If I remember right, this was his first – and last – year of college,
after goofing-off for two years after high school. Mom and Dad told him if he
didn’t improve his class attendance and grades, they were not going to pay his
college expenses any longer, and he dropped out shortly thereafter.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Then I think we can maintain this
review rate a while longer.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The two men continued to watch out
the window, and before long snow began to fall. At the accelerated review rate,
it looked much like a torrential rainfall, only boldly white.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I shouldn’t be much longer now. I
seem to remember something when I arrived home that year, Mom said it’d only
been snowing for an hour or so.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The door to the bedroom opened and
closed, the sound like a firecracker pop at the accelerated rate. Manziel’s
face twisted in confusion. “What’s Sid doing in here?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas looked at the arrival
impassively. “System, normal rate. Let’s watch, shall we?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Sid had already moved to the dresser
before the system restored the rate to normal. He opened the drawers slowly,
then quietly moved about the clothes in each.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas walked over next to him, and
peered into the latest drawer. “Any idea what he might be looking for, Dr.
Manziel?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Are you sure he can’t hear us?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“If he could hear us, then he could
also see us, and if that were the case, I doubt he would be searching your
room.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“No idea.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Sid went next to the desk and pulled
open the drawers, followed by the closet, looking in boxes on both the shelf
and the floor, and then checking coat pockets and the dress coat. Still not
finding what he was searching for, he dropped to his knees and looked under the
bed, then ran his hand between the mattress and box springs. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He stood suddenly and hurried to the
window. He muttered an expletive, and then left the room.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Can you contact your brother?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yeah, I have his number. He calls
from time to time when he needs something.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Whether we determine what happened
to your grandfather’s watch, you can ask your brother about this search, and
see what he says.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He snorted. “I wouldn’t bet on him
admitting it, even if he remembers it. He has a notoriously bad memory for
anything negative in his past.” Manziel went to the window. “Ah, that’s why he
cut his search short. I just got home.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Would you prefer to wait for
yourself up here, or go relive the homecoming downstairs?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He thought a moment. “Up here. I
think I’m already closing up on nostalgia overload.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was only a few minutes before the
door opened again, and the younger version of Dr. Manziel walked in. He dropped
a heavily-packed duffle bag on the bed, kicked off his shoes, and flopped on
his back beside the bag.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Damn, I never realized how much I
looked like a kid back then.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>His younger self remained on the bed
for only a few minutes, before getting up. He removed the items from his
pockets, including an antique pocket watch, and set them atop the dresser,
before changing from his traveling clothes into clean jeans and a long-sleeved
t-shirt. He replaced all the items into his pockets, save for the watch, which
he placed in his top dresser drawer.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That was the last time I remember
seeing the watch. I still don’t remember whether I took it with me back to
college, and lost it there, or forgot it in the drawer, and something happened
to it while I was gone.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Then we watch the drawer, and see
what happens from here. Do you need a break, Dr. Manziel? We can have the
system ‘bookmark’ this point in history, so that we can return to it later.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How long have we been in here now?
I mean, even at the accelerated rate, it has to have been some time, hasn’t
it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“System, real time passage of this
session?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The same voice from the control room
sounded inside the bedroom. “Session duration currently thirty-four minutes,
thirty seconds.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel shook his head. “It seems it
should have been longer than that. I mean, even at thirty times faster than the
normal time passage, we got here at noon, and it’s now almost evening.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“At thirty times passage, five hours
pass in ten minutes. We spent longer watching your brother search your room,
than we spent waiting for him to arrive.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Can we set a time limit we are
here?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Of course.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Okay, we’ll call this session at
one hour of real time. We can accelerate again to watch the drawer, right?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas didn’t answer. “System,
notify us when our session is approaching one hour of duration.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Acknowledged.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“System, fast forward at thirty ex.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The room grew dark as night fell.
The younger Manziel came in once and grabbed a coat, before leaving the room in
darkness again.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I remember now, I went out to see
some of my friends that night.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He had barely finished saying that,
when the door opened again. Sid came in, leaving the light off and closing the
door quickly. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“System, normal rate.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">He
went to the window and pulled the curtains open, allowing the streetlight to
add a faint glow to the room, before opening the desk drawer again. He then
returned to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. As before, he shuffled
things around, and then suddenly pulled his hand up, smiling. The pocket watch
dangled from its chain, catching the scant light in the room as it swung and
spun, before Sid stuffed it into one of his pockets.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Sid took it? Why would he take it?
He’d never expressed any interest in it when our grandfather was alive.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“System, return to control room.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The scene faded to the plain blue of
the control room. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Do you understand, now, Dr.
Manziel, the value of the Historian System?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“This is still so hard to believe.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas sighed. “Call your brother
tonight and ask him about the watch. You should return tomorrow for another
session, after which, I believe, you will understand the true difficulty of the
Historian Program.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">…to be continued…</span></i></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-13655402756987840322017-10-13T17:09:00.000-07:002017-10-13T17:09:02.970-07:00Friday Fiction for October 13th, 2017
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">The return of Friday Fiction is starting
out slow so far, so I’m hosting again this week. Hopefully, we’ll get more
participants soon, as a number of friends expressed an interest in it. As was
the case last week, if you would like to participate, add your link to the
Linkytool below.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">This week brings Part 2 of the Historian
Project, and how the system works. If you’re coming to this story for the first
time, you’ll probably want to click over to <a href="http://podtalesandponderings.blogspot.com/2017/10/friday-fiction-for-october-6-2017.html" target="_blank">Part 1 first</a>. For those returning,
the quick recap is that Dr. Manziel, the new President of the University, has
visited Professor Kallas’ Historian Witness 101 class and challenged the
attrition rate of the Historian Program. Kallas, in explaining why the program
continues despite a high drop-out rate, has invited Manziel to experience the
Historian Project first-hand, and as this part opens, they are now in the
system.</span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><!-- start LinkyTools script --><br /><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=282178" type="text/javascript"></script><br /><!-- end LinkyTools script --></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
Historian Project, Part 2</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>By Rick
Higginson</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">Manziel
spun around. “This is the control center? There’s nothing here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We have everything we need for this
journey.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“All right. I’ll play along. Where
are we going on this ‘journey’?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“To start, that is up to you. Tell
me, Dr. Manziel, is there something you have lost that you would like to know what
happened to it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He thought a moment. “My
grandfather, shortly before he died, gave me his grandfather’s pocket watch. I
lost it maybe two months later, and have always wondered where it went.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Tell me when and where you last
remember having it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He closed his eyes and scratched his
head. “Oh, man, that was, like, twenty three years ago. My grandfather died
during my first year in college, and the last I remember having the watch was
when I came home for Winter Break that year.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“So, let’s start with December
twentieth, twenty-three years ago. System, calculate and lock date, with local
time of twelve noon.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A voice sounded in the room. “Target
confirmed and locked.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Where was your home at that time?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel chuckled. “Funny how I’ve
forgotten more important things, but I still remember that address. 7129 West
Lincoln Ave, Cantor, New York.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“System, calculate and lock
location.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Target confirmed and locked.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Initiate placement.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The room shimmered for perhaps a
second, and was replaced by a street scene. They stood on the sidewalk in front
of a modest two story house. A blanket of snow covered the area, and the
overcast sky threatened to add more to the winter scene.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel’s eyes went wide. “Holy –
that’s my parents’ house! And, geez, it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cold!</i>
I’ve never experienced a simulator with this much detail.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Let’s go inside, shall we?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“So, do we prompt the system to
move?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas took a step forward. “No, we
walk.” He reached the door, and waited for Manziel.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Dr. Manziel stepped onto the porch,
and tried to open the door. His hand passed through the knob as if it wasn’t
there.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“One of the aspects of the Historian
System is that we cannot touch anything. The feel of the ground beneath our
feet is merely illusory for the sake of natural movement, but to enter, the
door is just as solid as the doorknob seemed.” He walked through the closed
door to the entryway, and waited for Manziel to follow.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That’s – got to be the weirdest
sensation I’ve experienced in a long time.” He took a deep breath and released
it slowly. “Man, I’ve missed this place.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Now, where in this house did you
last see the watch?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“In my bedroom, upstairs.” He walked
confidently through the living room to the stairway, and then up to the top
floor. He turned right at the top of the stairs towards the room at the end of
the hall.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The bathroom door opened, and a
woman walked out, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her wet hair.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas watched her pass. “I would
say you either are not home right now, or else your family has a very relaxed
attitude concerning familial nudity.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel sputtered. “That wasn’t
funny. Depicting my mother naked like that is a rather sick idea of a joke.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That was your mother? Dr. Manziel, I
promise you, I have no control over what we shall see, hear, and otherwise
experience while we are here. For whatever reason, on this date twenty-three
years ago, your mother did not bother to cover up walking from the bathroom
back to what I assume is her bedroom.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How could the simulator know that
happened? It couldn’t have read it from my mind through the neural interface,
because I didn’t see it happen back then.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We are not in a simulation. This <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> your parents’ home, twenty-three
years ago. Much like Scrooge with the Ghost of Christmas Past, we are visiting
here like ghosts, unseen and incapable of interfacing with the world around us,
but we are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here.</i>”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You’re saying this system is a time
machine? That’s not possible.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We have not broken the technology
yet to transfer a physical body back in time, but what we have developed is a
system that is capable of capturing and decoding the, for lack of a better
term, reverberations of time past. As the Ghost said to Scrooge, ‘these are but
shadows of the things that have been.’ Like reviewing the video from a security
camera, we can see and examine past events, with the added element of being
able to move freely through the scene, seeing it from any angle we wish.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“No, I still cannot believe it’s
possible.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That is why we are here, watching
for your lost item, Dr. Manziel.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>When
you see what happened to the watch, you can then verify for yourself that what
we see here is actually history. You need to know that what I am telling you is
true, so that you completely understand the real value of this program.” He
walked to the door at the end of the hall. “This is your room, correct? Unless,
of course, you wish to follow your mother and make sure she gets dressed.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You’re a bit twisted for even
suggesting that, you know that?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Your mother’s state of undress, and
anything else she may or may not do while we are here, is merely information to
me, of the same weight as the fact these walls are painted a pale green. One of
the goals of the Historian Program is to train students how to remain
completely objective in their observations of history. It is our aim to witness
and record events, without adding a bias of approval or disapproval. Whether I
agree with what someone has done does not change what they did, and we have
more than enough historical accounts prejudiced by the opinions of the
recorders.” He passed through the closed door into the room.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The bed was neatly made, and while
the room appeared decorated for a young adult male, the desktop was bare, and
the room lacked any form of clutter that might suggest it had been recently
occupied.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel entered the room and took it
in. His eyes locked on the poster of a long out-of-vogue singer. “I’d forgotten
all about her. I had a serious crush on her during my Senior year in High
School.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Judging from the state of this
room, I would guess you have not arrived home yet for your break.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“So, what do we do now? Try a new
target date?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“No, we remain here and watch for
your arrival.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That could be hours, or maybe days.
I don’t remember exactly when I got home that year.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“System, fast-forward at thirty ex.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We can do that?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Of course. Since the system is essentially
playing back events it has recorded from the historical reverberations, we can
move forward or backward at whim. This is valuable in that it enables us to search
for the exact moment we need, but we can also back up, move to a different
location, and witness the same event from another perspective. We should now be
passing an hour’s worth of history in two minutes. That’s fast enough that the
waiting is not tedious, but still slow enough to spot the moment when you
arrive.” He stood by the window, staring out at the street.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel wandered the room, remaining
quiet for a while. He finally stopped in front of the poster, examining it. “Looking
at her now, I can’t imagine why I was so infatuated with her.” He turned
towards the window. “So, if this technology is so incredible, why haven’t I
heard of it before?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas kept his gaze directed
outward. “The Historian Project isn’t strictly a secret, but we also don’t want
it widely known. If the general populace knew we had this capability, it could
cause problems, not the least of which would be an overwhelming increase in the
requests for our service. We would have people wanting us to help them find
lost pets, or trying to use as a private investigator to spy on a cheating
spouse, or just wanting to use the system for a nostalgic trip down memory
lane.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Would that last be such a terrible
thing?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He released a staccato laugh. “I
already told you that history is brutal. It’s not just brutal in the violence
that was done; it’s also brutal in its honesty. What has happened, has happened
regardless of whether one approves or disapproves. Think about it, Dr. Manziel.
You accused me of a sick prank because your mother walked naked from one room
to another, so what would your reaction have been if we had instead found her
intimately involved with someone you did not know? If we take someone to a
special family gathering in the past, what if they find it different than their
memory prefers it? What if, in our ability to move freely through the past and
the scene, they overhear something that ruins that memory for them?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“What if they find that some
disappointment to them had a good reason behind it, and it improves their
memory?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“One of the first things we stress
in the Historian Program curriculum is that people are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">human.</i> As such, they are also unpredictable in their reactions.
Even if I pose a hypothetical scenario to someone, and ask how they would react,
it doesn’t mean they will actually react that way if faced with that scenario
in reality. No, Dr. Manziel, most people are better left with their imperfect
memories, than risking how they might react if they revisited the scene later
in life.” He nodded towards the driveway. “If you drove a red compact car, then
I believe you have arrived.”</span></div>
<b></b><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><i>to be continued...</i>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-9410878050455808202017-10-06T16:00:00.000-07:002017-10-06T16:00:41.218-07:00Friday Fiction for October 6, 2017
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">Welcome to the restart of Friday
Fiction. I have the privilege of hosting this week, so be sure to enter the
link to your story in the Linkytool below, and visit the other stories posted
for this week. Please feel free to comment as well. We love feedback!</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">This week’s submission is the first part
of a short story I’ve been working on lately, and my plan is to post subsequent
parts in the coming weeks. This is a concept I’ve been thinking about for a
while, and finally decided on how I wanted to approach it. I hope you enjoy it.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><!-- start LinkyTools script --><br /><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=282057" type="text/javascript"></script><br /><!-- end LinkyTools script --></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
Historian Project</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>By
Rick Higginson</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Professor Kallas watched the
students file from the lecture hall. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not
bad for the first session of the new term. Only three of the fifty students
failed to show.</i> He powered down the computer and large display screen
behind the lectern, and then placed his tablet in his briefcase.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>One man remained seated at the back
of the hall. Kallas regarded him for a moment. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">One of my missing students? </i>“Do you have a question for me, Mr.
ah?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The man stood. “Actually it’s Doctor
Manziel.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Ah, yes. The new President of this
fine institution. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Dr. Manziel?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Dr. Manziel stepped into the aisle
and strode down the stairs. “I don’t know that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pleasure</i> is quite the word I’d use for this visit. I’ve been
reviewing the records on your history department, and it seems your program
here has, by far, the largest dropout rate of any program at this university.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">He chuckled. “I am well aware of the attrition
rate in my department, Dr. Manziel. Believe it or not, this is, by a wide
margin, the most difficult program in this, or any other, university.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel scowled. “It’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">history</i>, for pity’s sake. We teach <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">medicine</i> here. We teach <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quantum physics</i> here. We teach <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">law</i> here. You cannot tell me that
history is more academically challenging than those curricula.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas leaned against the lectern. “I
did not say this program is the most academically challenging. I said it was
the most difficult. There are many other factors of difficulty than just
academics.” He gestured with one hand to indicate the hall. “You saw the
forty-seven first-year students that were just here. This was the first session
of Histwit 101, and before the start of their second year here, half of them
will have changed their major, if not changed schools entirely. I expect this.
It’s part of the program. Half of those remaining will not return for the third
year, and by the end of the fourth year, of the original fifty signed up, I may
have five left.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s part of your program to lose
half your students in your first year? Professor Kallas, that is simply
unacceptable. I don’t know how you’ve managed to avoid scrutiny through the
term of my<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>predecessor, but I take my
responsibilities to the Board of Regents quite seriously. Any program where
only ten percent of the starting class completes the standard four year program
either needs to be completely overhauled, or scrapped from the catalog. How
that hasn’t already happened to your history program is beyond my
comprehension.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I assume, then, you have not reviewed
the financial records yet. One of the biggest reasons my program is still active,
is my work brings in better than eighty percent of the donations to this
university.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That’s ridiculous. How would a
history program motivate that level of donation income?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas laughed, bending over and
placing his hands on his knees.”Dr. Manziel, really! You have not done your
homework at all, have you? It is not the Historian Program that generates
income for this university. It is the Historian Project that is this institution’s
goose that lays the golden eggs, and it is also the very reason the program has
such a high withdrawal rate.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I don’t understand on either
count.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How early in this class session did
you arrive?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Towards the end.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Ah, then you missed the important
points. Candidates for the Historian Program are carefully selected, but even
then, few people are actually suited for the program. The reason I am able to run
both the program and the project is that I suffered a head injury when I was
fourteen years old. The lasting effect of this injury was a nearly complete
loss of empathy in my mind. I am incapable of feeling any sort of sympathetic
pain for other living creatures, human or otherwise. Because the injury
occurred in my teens, I had already developed sufficient morality that I did
not turn into a criminal sociopath. I can recognize an act of violence as
wrong, but I cannot feel the same discomfort that a normal person feels.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“So you don’t feel any regrets over
the students that do not make it in your program, either?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I consider them fortunate, because
they are still capable of being moved by their empathy. History, Dr. Manziel,
has traditionally been written by the winners, as the saying goes. What we have
learned through most of human civilization has been a sanitized, biased view of
events. The defeated enemy was evil and had to be subdued, and the methods used
were those necessary and reasonable. The reality, however, is that history is
brutal, and when we see events as they actually happened, history is revealed
as often horrific. If a student cannot handle that, they are better off seeking
a different program more suitable to their temperament.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s still just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">history.</i> It’s over and done.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That’s the problem. You see,
students studying medicine, for example, do so with the hope that what they
learn can be used to help the patients they will eventually treat. The same is
true with law. An attorney works to see that their clients’ rights are not
violated, and that they are afforded every protection of the law, rather than
being oppressed by the system. The historian cannot help their subjects. What
has happened is already done, and cannot be undone. The suffering is real, and
those who cannot put their empathy aside will be overwhelmed by it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“So you study ancient texts or
archaeological sites. I can’t believe that many people are that sensitive as to
be overwhelmed by such things.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I think, perhaps, it is time I
introduced you to the Historian Project. If you will follow me, Dr. Manziel.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel huffed. “Is this going to
take much time? You do know that my schedule is very demanding.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You question my program; you need
to know the answers, because, I promise you, if you go to the Board of Regents
and try to cut this department, they will either override your decision or
replace you.” He did not wait for any reply before heading to a door at the
back of the hall. He scanned his ID, typed in a number, and then pressed his
left ring finger against a pad.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That’s an odd finger to use for a
print check.” Manziel stepped through the door as Kallas held it open.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s randomized. The system may
request any of the ten fingers, or it may request a retinal scan, or a
combination of both. It’s designed to make it more difficult to defeat the
security system.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Geez, are you going to tell me that
you work for the CIA?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We have, on occasion, done work for
different intelligence agencies. Information is the most valuable commodity in
the world, and information is what the Historian Project collects. You want to
know where someone hid a valuable artifact? We can find out. Need to find where
a ship sank? We can tell you. If something has happened in history, whether it
is recent or ancient, we can find out exactly what happened. We can solve a
murder that happened a thousand years ago.” He performed the security steps on
another door and opened it. The lights came on to reveal a large console with
six recliners arrayed on one side. Kallas went to one recliner and gestured.
“Have a seat, Dr. Manziel, and I will get you hooked up.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Manziel gave the recliner the
once-over, but did not sit down. “Hooked up?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“The Historian System utilizes a
neural interface for its users. It’s completely safe, I assure you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He settled into the chair. “Neural
interface? Like some kind of virtual reality?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Sort of. The interface technology
is based on that developed for the virtual reality market.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Kallas slipped a soft hood over
Manziels head, covering his eyes and ears. “It will first calibrate to your
particular neural signature, and once it has, you will see me in the system in
the control center.” He took a seat in his own chair and donned his hood. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>For Kallas, the effect was
immediate. He stood in a bare room, illuminated with pale blue light. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m usually waiting for five people to
arrive, not just one.</i> A minute later, Manziel appeared. “Welcome to the
Historian Project, Dr. Manziel.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">…to be continued.</span></i></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-32977894920176132382017-10-02T16:22:00.000-07:002017-10-02T16:22:26.263-07:00
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sunday
Excerpt for 1 October, 2017</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">Eight years ago today, I posted the
final part of one of the strangest stories I’d ever written, “Hogs of the
Heavens.” The background of that story became the basis for my 2010 NaNoWriMo
story, “The Ericson Exigency.” Two years ago, I decided to write a sequel to
that novel, expanding on the short story that started it all. Since Friday
Fiction wasn’t happening at that time, I never posted any excerpts from “The
Foray Legacy,” and while the story remains as strange as the original short
story it was derived from, I enjoyed writing it and found the concepts
interesting to play with. In this first chapter, one of the main characters,
Cranston Berryman, has arrived at Iota Leonis B, where the fourth planet is a
binary, hence the dubbing of the planet as “Foray” by the original colonists.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">Friday Fiction resumes this week, hosted
right here on Pod Tales and Ponderings. I hope you’ll join us in enjoying some
short stories and excerpts, posted for your weekend reading pleasure.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">“Hogs of the Heavens” can be found
beginning with this <a href="http://podtalesandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/09/friday-fiction-for-september-4-2009.html" target="_blank">post:</a></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
Foray Legacy</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>By Rick
Higginson</i></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter
1</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ruins</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The trail was faint, barely more
than a thinning of the unkempt alfalfa growing between the hard-packed clearing
and the settlement in the distance. Pelleted scat dotted a rocky area with few
plants, near a dried mud cloven hoof print. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Looks
like the Erikson released some of their domestic livestock.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A covey of quail broke from one side
of the path, making a short flight into the cover of thicker alfalfa. Cranston
continued on with little concern. A vessel like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Erikson</i> would not have been carrying any wild apex predators, and
while some of the beasts could be dangerous once feral, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voidrunner </i>would have detected anything large enough to pose a
danger to him.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The first structure he reached did
little to suggest the settlement was still inhabited. It appeared to have been
built as a church of sorts, set into the side of a hill and constructed from a
mix of local rock and salvaged drop-module parts. The level of deterioration
and dust indicated it had not been used in a very long time. Cranston stepped
to one side of the doorway to allow more of the daylight to enter, and gave it
more scrutiny. Several planks that seemed to have once served as benches were
stacked to one side, with a much thinner layer of dust atop them. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well, someone has been in here more recently
looking for something. This isn’t the work of some animal rooting for bugs
under the junk or trying to make a nest. Maybe someone survived after all. Are
they nearby, or did they come back here for something they needed?</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He left the dilapidated structure
and continued towards the main part of the settlement. Drop modules were
loosely spaced on either side of what would have been considered a street in a
conventional settlement. All were dark inside and quiet, and save for
additional evidence of someone having investigated them possibly within the
last few years, seemed to have been abandoned long ago.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Standing outside of one, Cranston
examined the remnants of the door. The material appeared to have once been
badly damaged and then crudely repaired. Other modules showed similar evidence
of damage and patching, though the module at the far end of the settlement had
burned with no indication any attempt had been made to restore it to
functionality.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What
happened here? All these modules would have needed to be in serviceable
condition to make the descent from the Voidship. Anything this damaged would
have been torn apart and incinerated by the passage through the upper
atmosphere. This looks more like riot damage.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They
had to have known this colony was not ideal for a permanent settlement, so this
world could only serve as a lifeboat for the survivors. Did conditions get so
bad that some of the colonists turned on the others?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> He shook his head. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where did they go from here?</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He went to the middle of the street
and stood with his fists planted on his hips, trying to take it all in.
Deep-space distress messages were rare to begin with, and most of the experts
predicted that any survivors would be found in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">SusAn</i>, not living on a poorly terraformed colony world. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m not trained for this. I’m supposed to
come to systems like this and evaluate them for development and colonization,
not try to figure out if a bunch of stranded colonists went all ‘Lord of the
Flies’ while waiting for rescue.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Another path led off towards where
he had seen the old lander. With an exasperated huff, he started down it.
Partway there, he came upon a large collection of ramshackle shelters. He gave
them only a brief examination. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Livestock
barns, most likely – not really suited for human habitation.</i> Leaving the
barns behind, he continued to the now overgrown plateau where the derelict
lander rested. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The ramp was still extended, and
Cranston cautiously proceeded up until he stood at the closed hatch. After
wiping away some of the accumulated dirt on the window, he shone his light
inside and tried to determine the condition of the interior. Like the modules,
he could see what appeared to be malicious damage. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Someone ripped into those panels with no intention of removing
something useful. This wasn’t cannibalizing needed parts. This was just wanton
destruction.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He did a quick walk around the
lander, shaking his head at the extent of the damage and deterioration. When
he’d completed the circuit, he turned away and rubbed his eyes. “Com-link, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voidrunner.”</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The response sounded from the
wrist-mounted device. “Awaiting instructions, Cranston.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Dispatch a micro-drone to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">SRV Eusebio Kino.</i> Message: Crew of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">CV Erikson </i>established colony settlement
on Iota Leonis B-4A. Evidence of surviving generation of colonists, though
original settlement indicates some form of violent conflict. Planet not
considered suitable for sustained long-term development. Recommend additional
personnel for further evaluation and probable rescue effort. End message.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Confirmed. Programming micro-drone
and dispatching.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A minute later, a high-pitched
whistling sound reached the clearing as the micro-drone accelerated away from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voidrunner </i>and climbed on an escape
vector. It would take the drone a long while to reach the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kino,</i> and longer still for the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kino</i>
to arrive at Iota Leonis B, but if his estimation of the system were correct,
they would be up against a deadline for removing any surviving colonists.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Voidrunner,
</i>any indications of larger lifeforms nearby, and more specifically, any sign
of possible human presence in the vicinity?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Sensors indicate no large lifeforms
within range, though visual scan shows a column of smoke rising approximately
ten kilometers from your current location, on a polar reference heading of
two-hundred, twenty-one degrees. Analysis of smoke suggests small, controlled
fire maintained at a consistent burn rate.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“A campfire or cooking fire?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Affirmative. Analysis matches
parameters of such fires.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Confirmed. I’m going to
investigate. If I get too tired on the hike, I’ll contact for extraction.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Protocol dictates that you should
be armed on such excursions, Cranston. The weapons are currently stowed in their
locker.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Understood. I do not anticipate any
trouble.” He checked his com-link for the indicated heading, and followed a
trail that led approximately that direction. The old trail eventually climbed a
nearby hill, switching back several times on the ascent, before reaching an old
monitoring station at the summit. From there, Cranston looked around until he
spotted the wispy smoke rising perhaps another four kilometers away.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">Well, at least Deitrich won’t be able to
complain that I’m not getting the weight-bearing exercise required for all
Voidship crews.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Sitting in the shade of the
monitoring station, he took a wafer from his pouch and ate it, washing it down
with several swallows of water. Iota Leonis A was just rising above the
horizon, and the much brighter component of the binary system soon diminished
the available shade. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>There was no apparent trail heading
from the summit in the direction of the distant fire, but the slope appeared
gradual enough that Cranston felt confident without a previously traversed
path. Before long, he was walking amongst trees alongside a small stream, From
time to time, the trees would thin enough that he could see the smoke, and was
thus able to keep on course towards the suspected camp.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He finally drew close enough that he
thought he could smell something being cooked over the fire, though by then the
stream had grown enough in size that its sound kept him from hearing anything
else.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Approaching the camp cautiously, he
started to make his way across the stream, stepping on rocks jutting up from
the rushing water. Midway across, he placed his foot on one stone, and when he
brought his other foot forward, the stone rolled from under him. With a yelp of
surprise, he splashed into the stream and was tossed about by the current.
Every time he tried to get his feet back under him, or to grab ahold of a rock,
the force of the water knocked him down again.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Suddenly, he was being dragged from
the water by the back of his jumpsuit. Coughing and gasping, he tried to catch
his breath as he was dropped on his back on the streambank. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“What do you suppose this is?” a
voice above him asked.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Who knows?” A second voice behind
him responded. “But you know our orders. Anything unusual from the wastelands
is to be taken to the Wilbur immediately.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He wiped the water from his eyes and
looked. A crude spear was aimed at his chest. Moving slowly enough that he
hoped it would not seem threatening, he felt for his com-link, but found that
it had been lost in the stream.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Pulling his eyes away from the
spear-tip to the person – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">correction –
the pig</i> holding it, he clamped his mouth shut. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh, scat. Just what the hell happened here?</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-2419743864718782042017-09-24T21:50:00.000-07:002017-09-24T21:50:20.857-07:00
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sunday Excerpt for 24 September, 2017</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>For this week's excerpt, I decided to skip Episode 1, Scene 2, as Scene 3 carries on the explanation started in Scene 1. Scene 2 introduces a recurring Antagonist in the story, with the timing coinciding with the events of Scenes 1 and 3, but doesn't add anything necessary for continuity between the two scenes.</i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>Imagining a character of this nature, and how he would view our world, was part of the fun in writing this story. As the story and the character developed, the exercise of seeing our world through his eyes was enlightening in its own way, and I hope that perspective carries through to the reader.</i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>An added bonus to this story, is that the concepts explained here offer me venues for other stories with other characters, and the possibilities are developing in my imagination already. </i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i></i><i></i><span style="font-size: large;">The Daedalus Episodes</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>by Rick Higginson</i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i></i><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i></i></span><div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i></i><i></i><span style="font-size: large;">Episode
1, </span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Scene
3</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Adedeles digested the information
before speaking. “Where are we, Nancy? If this is not the world that I knew,
then what is it?”</span><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The van, as Nancy called it, was
moving again. It seemed strange to have the sensation of motion, without the
awareness of wind moving over his skin. For that matter, to be inside something
that was moving was just one more alien facet of his situation.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“The world you saw in the storm.
What you experienced is called a ‘Coincidence Event.’ We knew of them in my
world, and had developed a system to predict when a Coincidence Event would
occur. We could not predict if it would result in a storm, or if so, where the
storm would center. We would send teams to many places around the world,
waiting to see if a storm resulted so that we could study it. I was part of one
of those teams, and unfortunately was caught by the storm, just as you were.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“If there was another world close
enough for this to happen, why did we never see it before?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Because, until the Coincidence,
it’s not there.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I don’t understand.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I will try to explain it as simply
as I can. According to the scientists on my world, at one time there was only
one Earth. Something happened that caused a split, leaving the original Earth
in one plane of existence, while the new Earth existed in a parallel plane. The
scientists call this a ‘Deviation Event.’ At some point, the second Earth also
experienced a Deviation Event, resulting in a third Earth on a third plane of
existence.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How can you know this?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We have found other individuals,
such as you and me, being dropped on our world by Coincidence Storms. When we
have them recount as much of the history of their world as they can remember,
we find that when they get far enough back, it becomes common with another
Earth.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How many of these ‘Earths’ are
there?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Before I was cast here, our
scientists knew of seventeen. Meeting you, there must be at least eighteen,
because we have never seen someone like you from any other Coincidence Events.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Someone like me?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We are not crippled, Adedeles. We
have arms and hands instead of wings.” She held up her limb to show him. “On
the seventeen other Earths that we know of, this is normal for humans.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Then how do you fly?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“With machines on many of the
worlds, though in some, they have not yet developed the technology of flight.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“If that is the case, then I feel my
statement is accurate. You are crippled. You cannot fly.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How do you feed yourself? For that
matter, how did your people make the garment you wear, and how did you manage
to put it on?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That is a strange question. How
would your people do such things?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“With our hands, of course, and with
fingers that can grasp and hold. Indulge my ignorance, please, and tell me how
you do such things.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“The same way I pushed you away when
you first tried to put the thing in my ear.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You pushed me away?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You must have felt it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yes, now that you mention it, I
did, but I still don’t know how you did it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I focused on you, and made you move
away.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You can move things with your
mind?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Can you not do this?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“No, we cannot.” She placed
something on the ledge in front of her. “Can you move that from the dashboard?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He reached out with his thoughts,
taking a moment to explore the item, trying to understand it. “What is this
thing? It is very complex for something so small.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s a device called a smartphone.
We use it to communicate and access information across large distances.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He lifted it and brought it close to
his face. As he did, one surface of the item suddenly glowed with colorful
light. “It produces light. How does it do this?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Electronics. I know what they are,
but I can’t explain them, other than they use electricity to make them work.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Electricity?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You have lightning on your world, I
assume?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yes.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Lightning is electricity. LOTS of
electricity.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You capture lightning and make it
work for you?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Not the way you’re thinking, but
yes, we make electricity work for us.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Does this thing we are in use
electricity?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“For some things, though the actual
motion is from an engine that works on burning gas.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“They will not believe any of this
when I return home and tell them.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’m sorry, Adedeles, but you won’t
have to worry about that.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You will not allow me to return to
my world? You have wonders here, but I just want to go home.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I know. I want to go home, too. The
trouble is, Coincidence Events are not that common, and even less so between
two particular worlds. It will be many lifetimes before this Earth and your
Earth coincide again, and we cannot predict if the coincidence will be close
enough to produce a storm. Even then, if we knew that such a coincidence was
going to occur sometime soon, we cannot predict where on this world the storm
would center, nor do we know how to be sure you would be pulled by it back to
your world. We’re stuck here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He returned the device to the
dashboard, as Nancy had called it. “I have a family waiting for me. I was soon
to take a mate and start a new family. I came here. I must be able to return.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I had a family, too. I had a mate
and two small children. I had parents, and siblings. I had friends. Their only
consolation is in knowing that the storm itself isn’t fatal, but they have no
way of knowing that I have survived here. They had to accept, though, that I
was the same as dead for them. I will never see them again. They mourned for
me, even as your loved ones will eventually accept they must do for you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I will find a way to get home.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I hope you do, I honestly do, and I
hope when you do, that what you find will work for me as well, but in all the
years that the scientists on my world have studied this, they have never found
a way to cross at will. This Earth does not even realize the other Earths exist
yet, and have not even started to study the phenomenon.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You are crippled. You cannot fly,
and you cannot move things without touching them. I will find a way.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Well, until then, you need to know
how to get along in this world. There’s a place to stop for the night up ahead,
and while I don’t anticipate any trouble, if something happens and we are
separated, try to stay away from other humans for now. There is another town a few
miles ahead. What we are on is a road, and you should be able to see it from
above. Keep it in sight until you see more buildings, and then look for this
van. I’ll put the blanket on top of it to make it easier to spot from above.
Stay out of sight if you can, and watch. When you see me, come down and we can
head out again.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She stopped the vehicle. “Wait here.
I’ll be right back.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>While he waited, he reached out with
his mind and examined the van. He could sense many different parts, but had no
idea what function they all served. Nancy had pulled on something to open the
side, and he gently probed about to find the workings. A small stub was
recessed into the side, and he wrapped his focus around it. With only the
slightest force at first, he found that it was loose at one end and flexed away
from the side at the other. With a bit more force, it pivoted out with a click,
and a section of the side moved backwards. He shifted his focus to the section,
and felt it slide smoothly back a short distance before he stopped it.
Satisfied that he now understood how he could escape the van if needed, he
reversed his push and slid it back to its original position.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
can escape this thing if I choose. I will learn how to escape this world as
well.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Nancy returned and moved the van to
a different side of the building. “Our room is right here. No one is around at
the moment, so let’s get inside before anyone notices and starts asking too
many questions.” Once they were inside, she seemed to relax a bit. “Did they
give you anything to eat?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“No.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“What kind of food did you have on
your world?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We would get fruit and nuts from
the trees, sometimes birds and eggs, and if they were shallow in the high
streams, we would pull fish from the water.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You didn’t eat grains or
vegetables?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Where do you get those?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“They grow in or on the ground.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“We avoid the ground. There are
creatures on the ground in my world that are dangerous to us. This is the
longest I have ever been on the ground.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“There is a place nearby where I can
get some food for you. I want you to stay here, and if anyone comes to the
door, don’t try to answer them – they won’t understand you because they don’t
have one of the earpieces. Don’t try to open the door, and don’t look outside.
I suspect it won’t be long until the world learns of you anyway, but if you’re
lucky, you’ll have a little time to adjust first.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>When she was gone, he started to
explore the room the same way he had explored the van, studying things to try
and understand how he might use them if needed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How does one live as the only uncrippled person in a world?</i></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-24676552152710754202017-09-17T17:16:00.000-07:002017-09-17T17:16:51.650-07:00Sunday Excerpt for September 17th, 2017
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>It has
been far too long since I posted any excerpts here on my blog. Part of the
reason was that Friday Fiction dwindled away, though I would love to see it
return with many of my writer friends from Faithwriters and beyond.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i>For this new entry, I’ve posted the opening scene from last year’s NaNoWriMo
project, “The Daedalus Episodes.” One of the stories in the Pod series is “The
Daedalus Child,” about a young man born with his arms engineered as wings, who
ends up as the living model for an animated superhero character, Daedalus. I
had thought for a while about writing some of the stories about the superhero
version of the character, and so made that my NaNo project last year. This
story is still in the original draft stage, and I expect to begin revising it
sometime soon, but for your reading pleasure, here is the introduction of the
character who will become Daedalus.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The
Daedalus Episodes</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"> <i>by Rick Higginson</i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Episode
1 </i></span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Scene
1</i></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She walked between two deputies
without pausing, earning her condemning looks and a staccato challenge. In
response, she flashed her ID over her shoulder and continued without looking
behind her. Once inside, she went straight to the small office in back and
entered without knocking. “Are you in charge here?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The sergeant stood up. “I’m going to
assume, ma’am, from your demeanor that you’re with the Feds.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Nancy Rich.” She opened her ID
again. “Domestic Security. I’m told you have a ‘specimen’ that is of interest
to us.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’m Sergeant Jeremiah, and I’m the
ranking deputy on site.” He took a closer look at her ID. “Yeah, we got a
‘specimen,’ though that’s an interesting way to describe it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Take me to it, please.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He squeezed by her in the tight
confines of the office. “This way, ma’am.” Gesturing to two other deputies
standing beside a security door, he waited until one unlocked it and held it
open for them. “None of us has ever seen the likes of this – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i> – before, so I hope you understand
the additional security.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Understood. How was it captured?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Two of my deputies were on patrol
and found themselves in a weird storm yesterday. They pulled off to the side to
wait it out, when they said it just dropped into the bushes a short ways in
front of them. It was unconscious when they got to it, so they bundled it up
and brought it here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I see. Has it regained
consciousness?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yes, ma’am, about two hours ago.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Has it given you any difficulties?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“No, ma’am. It’s just huddled in the
back corner of the holding cell. We tried talking to it, but it never responded
to anything we said.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They stepped in front of the cell.
At the rear wall, a human-like head poked just above a wrinkled flesh-colored
membrane.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“What’s it hiding behind?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Best I can describe it, ma’am, is
that the thing has wings, kind of like a bat.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She considered the information, and
slowly exhaled a deep breath. “Are there cameras monitoring this area?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Of course.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I want them shut off. No video or
audio recording, and I want all your people out of this area before I approach
the specimen.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“With all due respect, ma’am, I’d
strongly advise against that. We don’t have any idea what it’s liable to do if
approached.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Look at the face, sergeant. I’d say
it’s about the equivalent of mid to late teens in age, and it’s terrified. It
woke up locked in a cell, held by people it didn’t know.” She raised her eyes
to meet the sergeant’s, and smiled. “The reason I’m here is that I am very good
at what I do, and I don’t anticipate having any trouble with the specimen.” She
pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. “If you need any more
convincing, this is the order giving me custody and authority over the specimen
and the situation. Unlock the cell, and leave me to do my job.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He read over the document before
giving her a skeptical look. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d at least
allow me and another of my deputies to remain here and keep an eye on you, just
in case.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Go, and turn off all the monitoring
equipment.” Her expression turned stern. “And close the door behind you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>When he had complied, she opened the
cell door slowly. Before entering, she removed a small device from her purse,
pressed a switch, and then placed it on the flat cross bar midway up the cell
wall. The specimen watched her as she approached, but made no move either
towards her, or to try and keep as much distance between them as it could in
the small confines.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Crouching in front of him, she
pulled a tiny earpiece from a container in her purse. She held it where the
specimen could see it, before she slowly reached to put it in his ear.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her hand moved involuntarily away
from its head, so she held her other hand where it could see, and then made a
show of removing an identical earpiece from her own ear. She placed the first
one into her other ear, and then again reached to place her own in its ear.
This time, she was able to insert it, and then leaned back. “Can you understand
me now? Nod your head if you can.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Its expression turned to puzzlement,
but it nodded.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Good. What I just gave you is a
translator device. Do you have a name?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I am called Adedeles.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I am called Nancy. Are you hurt,
Adedeles?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I am bruised from the fall, but
nothing serious. What is this place? Why is everyone I see crippled?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“That will take some explaining, but
for the moment, you are safe. Can you stand and walk?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yes.” With a little effort, it rose
to its feet, holding its wings folded in front of it.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“May I look you over, to see if you
have any injuries you are not aware of?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It held its wings out slightly,
revealing a sling-type garment that wrapped over both shoulders and then
through the crotch. He turned about, allowing her to examine his lean frame and
fleshy wings.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You have a few scrapes back here,
too, but nothing that looks worrisome. I need to get you away from here. Will
you come with me?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Will you answer my questions if I
do?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Yes, I promise, I will answer all
of them to the best of my ability.” She took the blanket from the bunk. “Let me
drape this over you for now.” She wrapped the blanket over his shoulders,
bringing it around for him to grip with his thumbs, which were the only digit
he had that resembled a human finger. “For now, don’t speak until we are away
from this place. It will be safer for you if the people here see you as quiet
and passive.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I have been quiet and passive since
I woke up here.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She smiled, and placed her hand
lightly on his back through the blanket. She took her jamming device from the
crossbar and placed it back in her purse as they walked through the cell door. The
outer door opened to her knock, and she led Adedeles out into the main room of
the substation. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Most of the deputies backed away,
some with their hands moving towards their holstered weapons as they formed a
loose circle around her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Nancy waved her hand. “Your fears
are unfounded. He presents no threat to any of you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>One of the deputies kept his hand
near his sidearm. “Where are you taking it?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Your sergeant has my authorization
to take him into Domestic Security custody. You didn’t really think you were
going to keep him here indefinitely, did you?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“There should be more than just
you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She strode over in front of the
deputy, with Adedeles staying just behind her. She was a good eight inches
shorter than the muscular deputy, and he gazed at her with unmasked doubt. “You
think I can’t take care of myself, deputy?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“Let’s just say I think this
warrants more than just one middle-aged, overweight woman.” He cut his eyes
between her and Adedeles, keeping his hand poised over his pistol.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You’re an idiot.” With a swift
motion, she snatched the pistol from his holster, ejected the magazine and
cleared the chamber. Before the pistol hit the floor, she seized his hand and
swept his legs from beneath him. As the pistol clattered on the tile, she
pinned him down and looked about the room. “Anyone else want to doubt my
ability to take care of myself?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Sergeant Jeremiah raised his voice.
“All right, people. That’s enough. Stand down and allow Agent Rich to do her
job.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She released the deputy. “Thank you
sergeant.” Everyone continued to stare at her, some fearfully. She laughed
gently to help ease some of the tension. “If you’re worried I’m going to pull
out some flashy device and erase your memories, I can assure you that
technology has not been invented yet, that I’m aware of, and you’re all going
to be talking about this tomorrow. You might want to keep the talk amongst
yourselves for now, just in case the Government decides to classify this, but I
have no way to make you forget what you’ve seen.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;">She
ushered Adedeles out the door and to her van. Every deputy followed them out
and watched as she settled her charge in the vehicle. Without another word to
the assembled officers, she got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and
pulled back onto the highway.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Once she was a few miles up the road
and confident none of the deputies were following, she adjusted the mirror to
look at Adedeles. “All right. This should be private enough for your questions.
As to your first question, you are still on Earth, just not the Earth you are
familiar with.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I do not understand.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You were caught in a storm.
Describe the storm to me.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I had never seen a storm like it
before. I was trying to get to shelter, but I could not seem to fly against
it.” He hesitated a moment. “I thought I must have injured my head, because I
thought I saw…” He looked out the side window of the van. “It was not possible,
though.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“You saw another world.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“How did you know?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She stopped the van in a roadside
turnout, and then twisted in the seat to face him. “Because I saw one in the
storm that brought me here from my Earth, many years ago.”</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-39943745146034396192013-11-21T20:24:00.000-08:002013-11-21T20:24:18.615-08:00Friday Fiction for November 22, 2013<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>I have the joy of hosting
Friday Fiction this week, made especially nice as this Friday is my birthday. Please
enter your link in the Linky Widget following this introduction!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>NaNoWriMo 2013 is entering
its final week, and “Draconian Responses” is over 58,000 words now, with more
still to write. One of the things I’ve enjoyed in writing the stories in this
series, is seeing creation through the eyes of the natives of another world.
When I wrote the first story, I imagined what it might be like if some of the
things in our creation account had happened differently, and how the story
might be told elsewhere. On Epsilon Eridanus, or Qi’le as they call it, their
account holds that God created the woman first, and then the man, and that it
was the man who fell first. Therefore, the man was made subordinate to the
woman, resulting in a Matriarchal culture, and a Matriarchal image of God. In
this chapter, I visited a bit of their culture and tradtions, while bringing in
some hints of events still to come in the story. I hope you enjoy, and for my
readers here in the United States, I hope you have a blessed and peaceful
Thanksgiving.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: left;">
<i><link href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/styles/default.css" media="all" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"></link><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/loc_en.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/opt_defaults.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/misterlinky.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?mode=standard&owner=Hoomi&postid=22Nov2013" type="text/javascript"></script></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">Draconian Responses<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">By Rick Higginson<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">NaNoWriMo, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Chapter 18</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
T’Cha</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
G’Se watched out
the side windows of the transport as it sped along over the trees. An obvious
line revealed where the stream ran through the forest, though in this location,
the channel was narrow enough that the trees closed enough over it that the
water could not be seen. In several places, the path from T’Cha heading towards
the Temple City would be near the stream as well, though that was just as much
obscured by the dense foliage.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A new robe
rested on her lap, folded neatly and awaiting presentation to H’Na. She smiled
as she thought about it. H’Na’s grandmother would have stood in and made the
presentation, and it would have preserved the symbolism of the ceremony just
fine. The presentation from mother to daughter signified the lineage of the
priestess, daughter through mother, all the way back to the women of Ch’Ma, the
first priestesses of <i>Qi’le.</i> </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A narrow, rocky
canyon passed beneath them, bringing to G’Se’s memory a journey long ago by <i>klur</i> to the Temple, after a detour to
T’Cha. The canyon had made some of the women on the journey nervous, with the
open sky above. She had felt strange without the trees, but she hadn’t recalled
feeling afraid. She had been a young woman, not yet ordained, but with the
Terran devices proving the sky was nothing to fear, she had grown up with a
slightly different mindset than previous generations. <i>God created the forests for us, but She also created the plains, and
the deserts, and the oceans, and the stars.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
In the very
early years of their dealings with the Terrans, it had still been considered
odd that any <i>Qi’le </i>would want to go
to the stars, let alone a priestess. The priestess B’Tra had gone, of course,
but that had been at the direction of the High Priestess, for the purpose of
being an ambassador. While it still was not common that <i>Qi’le</i> went to the stars, it wasn’t as unusual or seen as indicative
of some kind of mental lapse.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Their own star
shone down on them, providing life and warmth, and sustaining the trees that,
in turn, sustained life on <i>Qi’le.</i> She
had seen that star from Alsafi, and she had seen it from Earth, and from those
places, it shrank to insignificance amongst all the other stars. Some stars
stood out in the night sky. Theirs did not. For that matter, the Terran star
did not, either.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>What was it, Most Blessed Mother of All,
that made these two stars the place where You put Your children? </i>She
suspected the Terran scientists would offer long, detailed explanations of the
type of star, and the distance between the star and the planet, and so many
other things that she did not fully understand, but she went back to what she
had always been taught. <i>The Most Blessed
Mother of All formed the world, and blessed it, and called forth the trees from
the ground, and gave them the power to sustain life. Then She created the
creatures for the trees to sustain, and in turn, ordained that the creatures would
return to the trees eventually, and give back the nourishment they had taken
from the trees. Then She formed the woman, and She touched the woman’s cheek,
and the woman lived.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The Terrans had
more complicated explanations for how the worlds had formed and how life had
begun, and most excluded the idea of God having been the One responsible. <i>They may have their ideas. I see God in all
that She has made.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>We have arrived in T’Cha, honored
priestess,”</i> Peri said. He settled the transport to the ground near the old
vessel the first Terrans had arrived in, and sent notification to Temple City
Terminal Control of their safe arrival. “<i>You
have been so quiet this journey, honored priestess. Have I offended you in some
way?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “No, Peri. I have just been thinking. I do not believe
you would willingly offend me, and I prefer to not take offense to things that
are done without intent to offend.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>He lifted their two bags from the back of the
transport, and slung them over his shoulders. <i>“The priestess Se’Ana insists we stay with her, while Emily also has
offered us rooms in the inn.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Where would you prefer to stay?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I believe it is better to stay with my grandmother, both
because I would not risk offending her, and because I believe Emily will be
around to welcome me for much longer than my grandmother. I dread the day I
return from a journey, to learn she has experienced the final dream.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
They walked the
worn pathway through the village, receiving and returning frequent greetings
from other residents they passed. Peri finally turned towards one door, where
he called a greeting. The door opened, and they were invited inside.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The older man
took the bags from Peri. “<i>Welcome home,
Peri. I trust your journey went well?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I cannot say for certain, Grandfather. I am told that,
following our answers to the Council, the Archipelago entered a state of active
war against Alsafi.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>“War?” Peri’s grandfather switched to English. “There
hasn’t been war since the old political systems nearly destroyed Earth.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Alsafi used Empties
in an attempt to attack Earth and Earthrise, Grandfather. The High Priestess
told us we had saved lives with our warning, but none of us knew the extent.
The Colonial Council isolated some of the Empties in a simulator, and gave them
the messages from Alsafi.” </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
G’Se noted the
look of distress on Peri’s face, and placed a gentle touch on his arm.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Grandfather,
one of the Empties took control of a Voidship in orbit around the Moon, and
activated the Plateau Drive to send it crashing into Earth. The Council said if
it had been a real Voidship instead of the simulator, the death toll could have
been in the millions.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The old man
nodded. “I would say that I hope both sides know what they’re doing, but it’s
obvious that whoever on Alsafi instigated the attack, doesn’t realize the
potential consequences.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The priestess
Se’Ana stepped out of a side room. “If people considered the consequences of
their actions before they performed them, many of our actions would never be
performed.” She drew Peri into an embrace. “<i>You
have done well, child. Pray for all those affected by this, but do not accept
the lie that you are in any way responsible. God used you to save many innocent
lives, and for that, honor has come to the families of T’Cha, B’qa, and K’Za.”</i>
She turned to G’Se. <i>“Honored priestess,
enter our home in peace. It is a joy to see you again, G’Se.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Honored priestess, be’tra for your welcome. I am
delighted to see you again, Se’Ana. The priestess S’Bu sends her greetings, and
bade me to convey her affection to you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I would that I could go and receive her affection in
person.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “ Would it not be possible, honored priestess, for you to
make the journey?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I have sometimes thought about it, but I fear I am too
old to travel the stars again.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>G’Se cut her eyes towards the younger man. <i>“Peri?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>He met her eyes and smiled, before turning to Se’Ana.
<i>“Even if you were truly ready for the
final dream, grandmother, SusAn would sustain you for the journey. Did you not
tell me the story many times, of the crew member from Pisces that was attacked
and seriously wounded by an animal, and was kept in SusAn until she was
returned to Earthrise?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>The old woman patted his arm. <i>“I would think you were trying to get me away from T’Cha.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “You could go if you wished, Grandmother. You said when I
was last here, that you were considering passing on the duties of priestess
elder to another. If you and Grandfather wish to visit Earth again, I will
gladly take you there.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “We will speak of this later. Come and sit, and we can discuss
pleasant things for a little while. Honored priestess, I will send for the
Headmistress of the school, so that we may plan the ordination of your
daughter. Your mother offered to stand in for you when the other priestesses in
her class were ordained, but she would not receive her robe from any but you,
even if you were to be delayed for many years.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Be’tra, honored priestess. I purchased her first robe
while we were at the Temple City, so I will be ready to proceed whenever it is
convenient for you and the council of priestesses here in T’Cha.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>Peri’s grandfather remained by the door as the two
women settled into their seats. <i>“I will
go and inform the Headmistress that the priestess G’Se has arrived, and is
ready to speak with her at her pleasure.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>Se’Ana smiled at the man. <i>“Be’tra, my beloved. Peri, go with your grandfather, please, so that
the priestess G’Se and I may discuss some priestess business privately.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>Peri stood up, looking a bit confused. “<i>Of course, grandmother.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>When the two men had left, Se’Ana turned to her. <i>“The High Priestess conveyed your request,
honored priestess, and I have asked some friends to assist in the effort. I
cannot promise, though, that we will find her. My impression is, that she does
not wish to be found.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Why is that, honored priestess?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I cannot say for certain, G’Se, though I have my
guesses. God, however, has been chastising me lately for slipping into gossip
far too often, and I am making the effort to heed Her correction. If I share my
guesses, even if they are correct, then I will be gossiping about someone who
is not here to speak for herself.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I understand, Se’Ana.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I must ask, child, if you are sure of this path?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I have been sure of very little since the day my husband
died, Se’Ana, but of this, I am sure. It seems strange to think of such, but
when the High Priestess suggested a path of service for me, it felt as if God
was telling me that it was the right thing to do.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-62702380712552835732013-11-17T13:27:00.001-08:002013-11-17T13:27:53.070-08:00Friday Fiction for November 15, 2013<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Friday Fiction is hosted
this week by Vonnie over on her blog, <a href="http://mybackdoorministry.blogspot.com/2013/11/friday-fiction-annual-christmas-fruit.html" target="_blank">My Back Door</a>. Vonnie writes wonderfully
imaginative stories for the young and the young-at-heart. Be sure to check out
her writings, especially if you have young children or grandchildren to entertain.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>My 2013 NaNoWriMo story, “Draconian
Responses,” is now over 52,000 words, with several more chapters of events
needing to happen to bring the story to its conclusion. One of the themes of
the story is that a dictator has secured the position of “Adon” on Alsafi, a colonized
planet in the Sigma Draconis system, by orchestrating civil unrest and
controlling the Empties. He also smuggled Empties off Alsafi, and sent them to
the Terran Archipelago capitol in the Lunar city Earthrise, to secure
employment in potentially vital positions.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>The Colonial Council
responded to the dictator’s actions by dispatching the Aggressor Voidship
Chesty Puller to Sigma Draconis, and in this scene, the commander of the Chesty
Puller speaks with two captured members of the Alsafi Ruling Council. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Chapter 28</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Interrogation</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
From “Draconian Responses”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The woman sat in
a chair, secured into it by a strap locked behind her. One other chair was in
the room, and Ignatius entered and sat in it. She looked up at him with an
expression that seemed to mix regret and relief. “Commander Crane,” she said.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I see that I
don’t need to introduce myself, then.” He scrolled through the file on his
datab. “I see you are Emilia Hendricks, and you have been on the Ruling Council
for about fifteen standard years. That would put you having served the previous
Adon as well as the current one.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“That is
correct.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Did you support
the current Adon’s rise to power?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“No.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“But you
remained on the Council after his assumption of the position.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Did you support
his methods or his programs?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“No.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“If you did not
support his rise to power, or his methods and programs, then why did you stay
on the Council?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Commander
Crane, have you found any former Council members?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I haven’t
looked.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Don’t bother.
You won’t find any. When Leonard first presented himself as the new Adon,
several members of the Council opposed him. He had one killed on the spot, and
those who chose to stand with the old Adon were taken to join him. Do you know
what they did to the former Adon, Commander?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Our files
indicate he was executed.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“He was, and so
were all the Council members who chose to oppose Leonard. He didn’t stop there,
Commander. He didn’t just execute the Council members. He executed their
families. Beretti was the most vocal in that meeting. He had Beretti strapped
into a chair, and brought out both his mother, and his three year old daughter.
They were stripped naked, bound hand and feet, and both were placed on the
gallows with the nooses around their necks. As if that wasn’t enough, Leonard
had two twenty five kilogram weights tied to two ropes, through pulleys
attached to the ceiling above Beretti’s chair, and under the weights were the
triggers that would release the trapdoors under the gallows. Beretti had to
hold the ropes, knowing if he let either slip, a family member would die. He
had to watch them standing there for hours, until his hands could no longer
grip the ropes, and then he got to watch them die. The next day, they brought
out his son and his father and repeated the process. The third day, it was his
wife and his oldest daughter, only they forced him to watch a gang of men abuse
them first, and then they put them on the gallows.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“How do you know
this?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Tears were
running down her face. “Because we had to watch it as well, Commander. Leonard
told us that he would have no mercy on anyone who stood against him, and he
promised us that our families would suffer miserable deaths as well, if we
should ever think of betraying him.” </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“How many
Council members did he subject to such torture?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Over half of
the former Council chose to side with the former Adon, and the torments were
different for each one, but each was forced to endure some painful process in
the vain hope of prolonging the lives of the people they loved. I have
children, Commander. Leonard reminded me of that fact often, and that <i>his</i> Empties were employed as my
children’s caretakers. He’d already demonstrated that all he needed to do was
speak the word, and the Empties would do his bidding, no matter how heinous.
What would you do, Commander, if there was always the implied threat, that all
he needed to do was make one transmission, and your child’s nanny would torture
them to death?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“My job is not
to determine your guilt or innocence. My job is to try and determine which
council members may have been complicit in the attack against Earth and Luna,
and leave the rest to the Colonial Council.” He handed her a handkerchief.
“What do you know about those actions, Ms. Hendricks?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“We knew nothing
of it until your transmission, Commander. The most we knew was that Leonard
implied that he had taken measures to sever Alsafi’s ties with the Archipelago.
None of us from the previous Council roster approved of the idea of Alsafi
Independence. The only Council members that truly agreed with it, were the
puppet members he installed to replace those he had executed. The rest of us
also suspected the new Council Members were there to keep an eye and ear on us,
should any of us start talking sedition.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Did any of
you?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I suspect
several of us would have, if we had thought we might get away with it, but
Leonard seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. The Empties were his agents,
and we’ve figured out that he had Empties programmed that no one – not even
themselves – knew were Empties.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Tell me what
you know about the Empties.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Imagine a
world, Commander, where you learn that, all around you, were thousands upon
thousands of people who, with a command, would turn into sociopaths that could
be turned against anyone that Leonard chose?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Could he still
issue that command?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Do you have him
under guard? Is he dead?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Not yet.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“With the
communications network down, it would be a lot slower for him to unleash them,
but all he needs to do is find one or two, give them the appropriate command to
go and repeat the command to others, and let it domino out from there.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Where are your
children, Ms. Hendricks?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“We have an
estate outside of Eldorado.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He held his
datab over to her. “Pinpoint it on the map.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She placed a
spot on the display, and gave him a look. “Are you going to hold my children
hostage against me as well, Commander?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“No, Madam
Council Member, I am going to send some of my troops to get them away from the
Empties, before your ‘Benevolent Adon,’ as he liked to call himself, has a
chance to get a message to anyone.” He stood up.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Commander?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“How bad was it?
The attack on Earth and Luna, I mean? Just how many deaths did Leonard cause in
the name of Alsafi?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“To be honest,
none.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“But the
attacks? The files?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“We were
fortunate. The Eridani Rover that escaped Alsafi with the Priestess, had been
given information by the Priestess’ husband, and dispatched a drone to the
Eridani Ambassador. She brought the information to the Colonial Council, and
the Council managed to identify and quarantine the Empties. The images you saw
of the Empties operating the consoles were real, but the consoles were in a
simulator. All the results were from the simulator. That does not change the
fact that your ‘Adon’ ordered the attack, knowing full well what he programmed
those Empties to do, would result in possibly millions of deaths.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She released a
breath. “Don’t let him live, Commander. So long as Leonard is alive, he’s a danger.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“My orders are,
if at all possible, to return him to Earthrise alive. The Council will decide
what to do with him, but the Colonial Charter does not contain a provision for
the death penalty, regardless of how much he might deserve it.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I never thought
I would say this about any person, but it really will be better if one of your
soldiers has to kill him.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I’m not
disagreeing, but my function is not to be the judge and executioner.” He opened
the door. “One of my people will be in shortly to escort you to a berth. I’m
afraid, for the time being, you will have to remain confined, but we will make
every effort to be sure you are comfortable. I will send word to you just as
soon as I know something about your children.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thank you,
Commander. I don’t know if your soldiers know this, but just before they broke
into the Council Chambers, Leonard had given the order to kill all of us. I
won’t mind being confined up here. At least, I’m alive.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He transmitted
the directive for the rescue to the Command Center, trusting Ivan on the
Console to route it to the squad best positioned to carry out the mission, and
went to the next room. This man had a defiant expression on his face. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“You have no
right,” the man said.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“You are Cassius
Applegate, one of the newest members of the Ruling Council. I assume that means
you were hand-picked by the current ‘Adon’ to fill one of the vacancies he
created in the Ruling Council.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I don’t have to
answer any of your questions. You have invaded a sovereign world, and violated
Alsafi space.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“No, you don’t
have to answer any of my questions. The System has verified your identity, and
the files we have from Alsafi confirm the date of your appointment to the
Ruling Council. Since you appear to have been complicit with the attack against
Earth and Luna, my orders are to secure you in <i>SusAn</i> for transport back to Earthrise, where you can argue your
case before the Colonial Council.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He sneered. “The
Colonial Council is dead. Their chambers were destroyed in the attack. You should
know, since you played the files on our media enough times.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Ignatius stood
up and smiled at the man. “Well, then, maybe we’ll just plan on waking you from
<i>SusAn</i> where the Council Chambers once
stood, and let you decide whether to remain in your chamber until your air
finally runs out, or open your chamber and experience the explosive
decompression your attack subjected others to.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“The Colonial
Charter forbids such actions.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“If there is no
Colonial Council, then who is going to hold me to the Colonial Charter?” He
opened the door and gestured for the soldier waiting outside. “Take him to the
secure <i>SusAn</i> compartment, and put him
under.”</div>
<br />
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-20617836639362204072013-11-07T23:12:00.000-08:002013-11-07T23:12:12.573-08:00Friday Fiction for November 8, 2013<div class="Rick">
<i>Friday Fiction is hosted
this week by fellow NaNoWriMo participant and talented storyteller, Sara, on
her<a href="http://fictionfusion.blogspot.com/2013/11/nano-in-sane-no-friday-fiction.html" target="_blank"> Fiction Fusion</a> blog. Be sure to drop in, read a little, and say ‘hi.’<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick">
<i>My NaNoWriMo novel for this
year, “Draconian Responses,” crossed the 25K word count threshold tonight. I
missed posting an excerpt last week, as I was furiously typing away for the
first night of NaNo. I’ve been furiously typing away tonight, too, but decided
I can stand another late night, and post an excerpt.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick">
<i>I wrestled with this scene,
knowing that it’s not going to sit well with many readers, and for different
reasons. Yet, it seemed far too important to shy away from it. One of the plots
in the story is that, in the wake of the events on Alsafi from the story, “Empty
Threats,” Peri, the pilot of the Rover Vessel “Stardreamer,” and the priestess
G’Se are summoned to appear before the Colonial Council, in the Lunar city
Earthrise. Following the questioning by the Council, they travel to Earth where
they stay as guests of the Qi’le (Eridani) Embassy. This scene takes place
their first night at the Embassy.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick">
<i><span style="font-size: 24.0pt;">Draconian Responses<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<i><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">By Rick Higginson<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<i><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">NaNoWriMo, 2013<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick">
Chapter 9</div>
<div class="Rick">
Propriety</div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
G’Se lay on the
bed in the dark room, staring towards the ceiling. She began quiet prayers,
each of which burned out before she could finish them, and thought about what
S’Bu had said. <i>Where is my heart? Not in
S’Po, and not even at the tree where I hold memorial for Solomon. It is not in
teaching the children, nor standing each morning with the other priestesses for
the prayers.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Peri was in an
adjacent room, and she had heard him return there perhaps half a standard hour
before. She took a deep breath, and turned her head towards the door. The lights
in the corridor outside had been extinguished, and the Embassy was quiet.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She threw the
bed linens back, and sat up on the edge of the bed. She stayed there for a
moment, and then stood to walk to the door. With her hand on the knob, she
hesitated briefly, and then stepped into the corridor. A few steps down, and
she placed her hand on another door knob, hesitating again. Closing her eyes,
she turned the knob, and entered the room quickly. She shut the door behind
her, and leaned against it momentarily.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>Hello?</i>” Peri said. “<i>Is someone there?</i>”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She crossed the
floor to the bed, and slid beneath the linens next to him.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He shifted back
quickly in surprise. “<i>Who is there?</i>”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She sang
quietly. “<i>It is G’Se.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Honored priestess, this is not proper. You should not be
here.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “It is not proper, if I take you in the manner that a
woman takes a husband. I am not here to do that. Please let me stay, Peri.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I am confused, honored priestess.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Would you call me G’Se for tonight, Peri?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I do not understand, honored priestess.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>She slid closer to him, and reached an arm across his
chest. <i>“Since the day we left Alsafi, I
have been nothing but a priestess. Would you speak with me tonight as a
friend?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I have been your friend since that day we first met in
Su’bui, G’Se, but I still do not understand what you are doing in this bed with
me.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>She sighed at the sound of her name. <i>“I miss this, Peri. I miss being held in the
night as a friend. I miss being treated by someone as a friend first, and a
priestess second. I miss the feel of falling asleep next to someone who cares
about me, and waking up in their arms the next morning. Please do not send me
away tonight, Peri.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “What if we are found out?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I do not care. I will not take you tonight, and if
anyone should believe that I did, it is to their shame that they will not
believe me. Will you let me stay, Peri?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>He slipped his arm behind her, and she rested her
head on his shoulder. <i>“Be’tra, Peri.”</i>
She savored the warmth of his body, and listened to the sound of his breathing
for a few minutes before speaking again.<i> “I was angry at you when we left S’Po and
T’Cha.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I apologize, G’Se, if I did something that angered you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “It is I that should apologize to you. I was angry,
because you were taking me away from S’Po and Qi’le, and I thought it was so
much easier on you, since traveling between worlds is your life.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “That is true, G’Se.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I said as much to the High Priestess. She told me of
your offering for the completion of the vow to Solomon, Peri. She told me what
it could have cost you, and what you said to her when she asked if you would
request the price of your vow to be returned to you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>He drew a slow breath, and remained quiet.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>“I did not know that your actions could have
cost you this life, Peri. I did not know that, when pressed by the High
Priestess, you still made the choice to put my welfare and the welfare of Peqa
and H’na before your life. When you stood before the Council and took the
responsibility for what we had done, I saw again that you were willing to risk
the life you love for me.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “That should not seem strange to you, G’Se. There are
many that would give of themselves in the service of a priestess.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “There are many that would take for themselves, as well,
the benefits of association with a priestess. When many thought my time of
mourning for Solomon should be complete, they began to suggest other men to
take his place as my husband. I never felt they were offering to me someone who
would take their place beside me as friend, but rather, they sought the
prestige of marrying their son to a priestess who had been honored by the High
Priestess.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I am the grandson of the priestess Se’Ana, and the
great-grandson of the priestess Y’La, both of whom were honored multiple times
by more than one High Priestess. Even before we were honored by the High
Priestess, there were those who also sought the prestige of joining their
daughter to my family. I never wished to be a prize. I wished only to travel to
the stars.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Do you fear that is why I am here tonight, Peri?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>He was quiet for a moment, and then reached his other
hand across to her face. With a tentative touch, he placed the tips of his
middle and ring fingers against her cheek. <i>“The
day we were honored by the High Priestess, when you met me at the Terminal and
we went to the Temple, I thought about Solomon. I thought as we walked side by
side, speaking as friends, that I was experiencing a small sample of his life,
and for a few moments, I envied what he had shared with you. When we stopped in
T’Cha before this journey, and Peqa walked out from her ordination, wearing the
robes of a priestess, I felt as proud as if she were my daughter, and wondered
if Solomon could see her through my eyes. At that moment, I wanted that life,
but I cannot have both it and this life. I will not be as my father, and leave
my family to grow without me while I travel the stars.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “You were the first man to call Peqa ‘honored priestess,’
Peri. Solomon always said he hoped he would be the one to have that distinction
for both Peqa and H’Na. If her father could not be there for that, I am at
least glad it was you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I suppose it was a fair exchange. I had wished my mother
had come when we were honored by the High Priestess, but it was your mother who
blessed me afterwards and stood in the place of my mother.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>She reached her hand up and reciprocated the touch on
the cheek, fighting the urge to use the middle and index finger. She allowed
the two fingertips to linger on his skin, and felt a warm flush go through her
skin as she struggled with the temptation to place all her fingers on his
cheek. <i>I told him I would not take him as
a woman takes a husband, but it has been so long. How easy it is to slip from
wanting only the warmth of a friend, to wanting the touch of a husband again. </i>With
a feeling of disappointment, she returned her hand to rest across his chest.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
His free arm
went across her shoulder, and he clasped his hands together behind her. She
settled into the embrace, determined to remain satisfied with being held as a
friend. <i>“Peri, could we stay here one
more day? Priestess S’Bu mentioned a trail through the forest to a lake nearby.
I feel the need to find the peace of the trees around me, before the journey
home.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I think the priestess and her husband could be persuaded
to tolerate us for one more night, G’Se, though if she learns that you came to
my room in the night, she might post guards to preserve proprieties.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> </i>She gave a gentle laugh. <i>“She might force me to marry you, since she considers you as her own family.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “My grandmother would be angry, if I returned as a
husband, and my wife did not present herself first according to the customs.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “The way my mother speaks of you, I believe she would
consider that she had already given approval of you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “If you take another husband, G’Se, you should take one
that will be a proper husband for a priestess.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Will you ever consent to be a husband, Peri? Or will the
stars always be your comfort?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “As I said, G’Se, I am a Rover, and I will not be an
absent husband. A woman of Qi’le needs a husband that will fulfill all that is
required of him, including being there to care for the home and children.” </i>He
gave an amused grunt. <i>“If I ever have any
B’sela dreams, I will board Stardreamer and leave for the other side of the
Archipelago as swiftly as I can.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “You would refuse even a B’sela for this life? Yet, you
were willing to sacrifice this life for me, Peri.” </i>She rose up a bit, and
turned her face towards his. <i>“What if the
B’sela were with me? Would you still refuse, even though you have already been
willing to give up this life for me?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “After three daughters, G’Se, I do not think you still
retain the trait required for a B’sela.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I am teasing you, Peri. You have twice shown that you
were willing to accept the consequences for helping us. I could not ask you to
give up that which you willingly risked for us.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “And what have you risked tonight, G’Se? You say that
this is not improper, but could this not cost you the robes?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I wonder, sometimes, if it would be better if I just
found another trade to practice.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “You were born to be a priestess, and I was born to be a
Rover.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I do not know what would have happened to us, if you had
not become a Rover and come to Alsafi when you did.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I wish I could have brought Solomon with us as well,
G’Se. I would have liked to have known more about him.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “I have spent many nights wishing he had come with us as
well, but I do not believe anything would have saved his life that day, Peri. I
believe now that his final purpose in life was to prophesy to the people of
Alsafi. The Most Honored Mother of All does not allow judgment without first
sending warning, and She did so through Solomon.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Do you believe there will be judgment, then?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Yes, Peri. It was in the words the Council did not say,
and it is already in motion. I cannot say how I know this, other than to think
that God revealed this, and I pray that I am wrong.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “And you think you should not be a priestess? If you
think that God is revealing things to you, G’Se, then perhaps She is doing so
to remind you of your calling.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> “Perhaps, Peri, but for tonight, I still wish to just be
a friend.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-13255691597899766322013-10-24T22:52:00.000-07:002013-10-24T22:52:22.258-07:00Friday Fiction for October 25, 2013<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> Friday Fiction is hosted this week by Sara, over at her
imaginative blog, <a href="http://fictionfusion.blogspot.com/2013/10/lunchbox-friday-fiction.html" target="_blank">Fiction Fusion</a>. Don’t miss her story this week, or the other
wonderful submissions.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> My plans for this year’s NaNoWriMo is a story titled, “Draconian
Responses.” This will be a follow-on story to 2009’s NaNo story, “Empty
Threats.” In preparation, I’ve been going over that story, refreshing the characters
and situations in my mind as I plan on the events that will follow what
happened. One of the things that happens in that story, is that the Empty in
charge of caring for the Rover Hall decides to run away from her position, and
goes to Epsilon Eridanus (“Qi’le”) with the main character. Because she was
never programmed for life outside the Rover Hall, she has a difficult time
adjusting, even though she is secured employ helping to care for an Inn. This
changes when she experiences the Qi’le phenomenon called “B’sela,” which is the
joining of two minds, believed by the people of Qi’le as God specifically
bringing two people together in marriage. In the original draft, the Empty (who
by then has decided to call herself Emily) has been presented to Musi for the B’sela,
and he has consented. I skipped ahead to their Affirmation in the Temple, but
began to think this week that it would be interesting to explore how Emily’s
former life as an Empty might come into play in their early relationship. The
result is this new chapter.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i> Next week, I hope to have the first excerpt from “Draconian
Responses.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt;">Chapter 26<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Empty Memories<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The couple walked slowly along the
edge of the forest, around the perimeter of the meadow surrounding <i>Pisces.</i> Emily held to Musi’s hand,
trying to assimilate all the memories she could from his mind. Every aspect of
his life was a new concept to her, and a painful reminder of all that had been
denied to her because she was an Empty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> One of the older students from the
priestess school followed perhaps a dozen or so meters behind them, providing a
sufficient chaperone that all proprieties were maintained. The girl’s presence
was subtle, and not sufficient to inhibit free conversation, though for most of
the walk so far, they had both been silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Musi plucked a leaf from a low
hanging branch and crushed it between his fingers. A pleasant scent wafted
through the air, and he rubbed the fragrant greenery across his forehead and
his neck. <i>“I know your former home was at
another star, but will your mother be offended if you do not present me to her
for approval before our Affirmation?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> A panicked feeling ran through her,
and she released his hand. She stood still and closed her eyes, struggling with
whether to release the memories, or suppress them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He sought her hand again, and took
it gently. <i>“I can sense you in my mind,
exploring all that I am, as a child eagerly explores the forest for the first
time, yet, you have a door to your mind that you have not opened to me yet. The
priestess Se’Ana warned me of this, Emily, and I still accepted the B’sela.
There cannot be anything in your mind that could break the bond we now share.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She opened her eyes and blinked away
the tears before meeting his gaze. “I don’t have a mother to present you to for
approval.” With the <i>B’sela</i>, she could
understand his <i>Qi’le</i> speech and even
respond a little in kind already, but English was still easier for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> <i>“She
has passed through the final dream, then?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> <i>“Did
she abandon you as a child?”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “No, Musi. You don’t understand. I
never had a mother.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He gave her a puzzled look. <i>“No, I do not understand this. You are here,
therefore, you must have had a mother at some time.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She shook her head. “No. No mother,
and no father, either.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> <i>“What
you are saying is not possible.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Her hand slipped from his again, and
she lowered her face. With a soft sob, she reached both hands up and placed
them on either side of his face, with all fingers touching his skin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> <i>“Emily,
this is not proper - ”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Before he could finish the
correction, she allowed the memories to flood through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> <i>Her
eyes opened for the first time in a sterile room. She sat up in a container,
flanked on all sides by similar containers. Some were empty, and some contained
other sleeping people, all younger than her. A woman walked over and consulted
a device in her hand, before handing her a simple garment. She had never seen
such a thing before, but somehow, knew what she was supposed to do with it. She
stood up, and draped herself in the plain cloth.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “This
way,” the woman said, and even though she had never heard speech before, she
understood what she was expected to do and followed. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She
was led to a doorway. “Open Empty Holding,” the woman said, and the door
opened. “Go inside, and commence conditioning routine one.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> There
were others in the room, dressed just as she was, and machines that she
suddenly knew what to do with. On one, she would walk for a certain interval
every day. On another, she would lift a bar in a prescribed pattern. Each
machine had a different function, and each day, she would follow the others in
the room through the routine.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She
had no way of knowing or caring how long she spent in this room. Each day was
the same as before – awaken, eat, exercise, take care of personal hygiene, eat
again, and then sleep. She never spoke with any of the other residents in the
room, and none ever spoke to her. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The
next distinct memory was of another woman coming to her in the room. “You have
been requisitioned,” the woman said. “Come with me.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She
was taken to another room. “Open Empty Programming,” the woman said, and the
door opened. They entered, and the woman pointed to a cylindrical bed. “Remove
your clothing, and lie down there.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She
did, and the bed glowed blue, and she fell asleep. When she awoke, she was
handed a different kind of clothing, and taken to a different room. A man
waited there, and he looked her over before nodding.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> When
he had walked around her several times, he stopped in front of her. “What would
you like to do?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “I
would like to take care of the Rover Hall,” she replied.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “How
will you do that?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “I
will clean the hall, see to it that the facilities are maintained, the linens
changed between occupants and at regular intervals besides, and arrange for
whatever needs or desires the Rovers express, in keeping with local laws and
their ability to pay.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The
man led her outside to a transport, and took her to the Rover Hall in Eldorado.
He did not even go inside with her – she already knew everything she needed to
know about the building and the operation.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Emily wept softly against Musi’s shoulder,
aware through the <i>B’sela</i> that tears
ran down his cheeks as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> <i>“You
have no memories of a childhood?” </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Rick">
She shook her
head without lifting it. “My childhood was spent asleep in a chamber. I was created,
grown, and maintained by a machine until I was an adult, and ready to be requisitioned.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “They called you ‘Empties,’” he
whispered. His voice sounded flat in the Terran tongue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She nodded. “My mind was filled only
enough to perform the tasks I was requisitioned for, until that moment you
touched me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “How can they do such a thing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “I don’t know. I was never
programmed to understand the technology.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He reverted to <i>Qi’le. “They will answer to God someday for what they have done. I am
just a man, and may not understand the Scriptures very well, but this must be
one of the worst forms of blasphemy.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “I was nothing, Musi. I was
property. When the day came that I was no longer useful for my requisition, I
would have been disposed of like trash.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He brought his hands up and placed
the ring and middle fingers of both hands on her cheeks. <i>“They may have thought of you as nothing, but they did not see you as I
see you. You are the B’sela I have prayed for my whole life. You are the gift
that God has led to me from across the stars, and the completion of who I am.”</i>
His melody changed to the formal dialect used for the liturgy.<i> “Truly God has joined us as one mind. We
shall be one heart, and when we have been affirmed, we shall be one body.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> She listened to his words and to his
mind, and leaned back to look at his face. “I was supposed to say that last
phrase to you when you gave your touch consenting to the <i>B’sela.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He smiled at her. <i>“God had a different way for you to say it.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“I don’t know what kind of wife I’ll be.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> <i>“I
do not know what kind of husband I will be, but we will learn together, and if
the Most Blessed Mother of All grants that I place children at your breasts, we
will learn together how to give them full memories.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-23604007083250450992013-10-18T23:08:00.000-07:002013-10-18T23:08:49.739-07:00Friday Fiction for October 18, 2013<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Friday Fiction is hosted this week by Vonnie
over on her “<a href="http://www.mybackdoorministry.blogspot.com/2013/10/friday-fiction-dindon.html" target="_blank">My Back Door</a>” blog. Be sure to visit and enjoy her fun turkey
story this week, as well as the other submissions for FF.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Since Friday Fiction was on something of a
hiatus last November, I missed posting chapters of my NaNoWriMo novel while it
was in process. As I mentioned before, I took the short story, “Reef, Her
Madness,” and used that as the basic outline for a novel-length retelling of
the same events, and then some. What this allowed me to do was expand the story
to include scenes that were brushed over in the short story, and to add additional
POVs. One of the pivotal scenes in the original story was the night swim along
the reef, with dive lights rented from the resort Dive Center. In the rewrite,
I decided it would be fun to see the Dive Center through the female main
character’s perspective, and to use the scene to set up subsequent scenes in
the book.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>By the way – many dive shops do offer
something very similar to the Explore Scuba course mentioned in this chapter,
offering it for very inexpensive or even free. Often, it is done in the dive
shop’s training pool, but in some locations, it is actually done in the ocean.
If you have ever been curious about scuba, look up your local scuba shops with
training facilities, and inquire about a Discover Scuba or similar course (I
fictionalized the name for the story).<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Chapter
14</span></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">From
</span><i><span style="font-size: large;">Chasing The Sharks</span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Theresa entered the resort Dive
Center, and wondered how she’d managed to have never been in one before. She
could not remember a time when she hadn’t loved the water, and scuba would be a
natural extension of that love.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Large color prints of reef life
decorated the walls, and a big screen monitor played an ongoing slide show and
video montage of the area’s diving. It was all just so beautiful and enticing,
and she imagined what it would be like to be one of the people in the video,
gliding over the seabed.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She took a mask from its hook on a
wall display, and held it over her face. The skirt was much softer and
conformed so much better to her shape than the inexpensive mask she’d bought
from a department store. If she wasn’t already stretching her budget just being
on this trip, she would have considered buying it. Turning her attention to the
display of snorkels, she ran a quick currency conversion in her head, and
realized the cheapest snorkel they had, cost more than her entire set of fins,
mask, and snorkel.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A young woman came from a back room.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in. How may I help you?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Theresa pulled the mask from her
face, and quickly replaced it on the display.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Are you looking for a new mask?”
the employee asked. “The one you just had on is one of our best sellers. It’s
very comfortable, and offers excellent peripheral vision.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“It is nice,” Theresa agreed. “But
it’s not in my budget right now. I just came in to rent a couple of dive
lights.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Ah, very good,” she said, pulling out
the rental form. “Are you going out on our dive boat tonight?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Theresa shook her head. “No, I’m not
a scuba diver. A friend and I are going to do a little night snorkeling in the
lagoon.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I see. Are you experienced
snorkelers?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes, and I assure you, we’re both
quite comfortable in the water.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The employee walked to a closet, and
removed a pair of large, yellow plastic lights from a shelf. She brought them
back to the counter, and switched each on to check their functionality. “These
are a bit bulky, but we have found them to be quite reliable and to have
excellent battery life. We do require a credit card deposit on them, or else
charge the rental back to your bungalow, so that your card on file with the
resort provides the deposit. How would you like to proceed?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“My friend should have already made
arrangements to have them billed to his bungalow. He’s in number twenty-three.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She checked her computer. “Yes, it’s
here – bungalow twenty-three, Mr. Timothy Billings.” She pulled back the rental
form. “I won’t need this. Mr. Billings completed it online, so you should be
all set.” Smiling, she handed the lights to Theresa. “If you and Mr. Billings
are comfortable snorkeling, have you ever considered trying scuba? Many divers
started out snorkeling, and it’s an easy transition for them to learn scuba.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I hadn’t really thought about it
before, but looking at your videos, it just looks so incredibly wonderful and
peaceful.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“It is,” she said. “When I am
underwater, it seems that all the other cares of the world just disappear.” She
pulled a brochure from a display at the side of the counter. “If you would like
to try it during your visit, we offer an Explore Scuba course. We give you a
brief classroom introduction to scuba, and then a basic instruction on the use
of the scuba gear in the shallow water just off the beach here. Once you have
the hang of it, the instructor will take you on a short guided tour underwater,
and you can decide if you like the experience enough to pursue certification.
The cost is minimal, and includes the rental of all the gear you will need. All
you have to bring is your bathing suits.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Theresa looked over the brochure.
“It does sound nice, but I’ll need to think about it.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Of course. Talk it over with your
friend, and if you decide to do it, just call us here at the Dive Center, and
we’ll schedule the time at your convenience.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I will, thank you.” She lifted the
lights just a bit. “I’ll have these back tomorrow.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thank you,” the employee said.
“Enjoy your stay at Caruso Lagoon.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Theresa retreated from the shop
before the temptations within could get any more persuasive. The Explore course
sounded good, and the cost did seem reasonable, but she needed to check what
she’d spent so far and make sure her limited vacation budget could handle it.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The most amusing thought, though,
was that Timothy would show up without a bathing suit. The only thing he was
required to bring, and if they did the course, he wouldn’t bring it. She
smiled, and then laughed when she realized that she had spent the last two days
swimming with someone who had been skinny-dipping the whole time. <i>Oh, if I tell Daddy about this, he may never
let me out of his sight again.</i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Even Jenny’s silent treatment that
morning couldn’t dampen her mood.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-52058973445609550772013-10-10T23:28:00.001-07:002013-10-10T23:28:50.922-07:00Friday Fiction for October 11, 2013<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Welcome to Friday Fiction,
which I have the privilege of hosting this week. Look for the Linky tool after
this intro.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>I had to miss last week, as
I was on an out-of-town trip to a location that was completely disconnected
from phone, internet, and pretty much any other form of electronic
communication, but I’m back this week, and with a new story.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>I’m gearing up for
NaNoWriMo 2013, and at this time, I’m planning a story to follow on with my
2009 NaNoWriMo story, “Empty Threats.” I’ve thought a lot about what might
happen after the closing events of that story, and I find the story potential
strong. Towards the end of the first story, the main characters must deal with
a growing uprising on the colony world of Alsafi, where lab-grown humans are
available as “made to order” servants, programmed at the time of their
requisition for whatever tasks the buyer requests. In essence, these are
treated as biological robots, and not as true humans. The Empties play a part
in the first story, and the technology will have a strong influence in the
second. This scene will not appear in this year’s NaNoWriMo book, but it does
establish certain parameters that will play into the story.</i></div>
<i><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Previous appearances of this concept on this blog were in the stories, “<a href="http://www.podtalesandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/06/friday-fiction-for-june-26-2009.html" target="_blank">TheRequisition,</a>” “<a href="http://www.podtalesandponderings.blogspot.com/2011/03/friday-fiction-for-april-1-2011.html" target="_blank">Exiled With a Fool,</a>” and in the excerpts from “<a href="http://www.podtalesandponderings.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html" target="_blank">Empty Threats</a>” in
November 2009.</i></div>
<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick">
<o:p><link href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/styles/default.css" media="all" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"></link><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/loc_en.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/opt_defaults.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/misterlinky.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?mode=standard&owner=Hoomi&postid=11Oct2013" type="text/javascript"></script></o:p></div>
<div class="Rick">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="Rick" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">Empty Promises<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="Rick" style="text-align: center;">
<i>By Rick Higginson<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Eldorado was in
turmoil, and the Ruling Council Chambers sealed against the threat of the mobs
outside. He approached a small side door, which was opened for him by a
security agent inside.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The guard
crossed his wrists, palms facing out, beneath his chin. “Esteemed sir, the
Council is waiting inside.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He nodded to the
man, and strode down the corridor towards the secured meeting room. The
fortified door swung open for him just as he reached it, and another guard
inside repeated the greeting and the gesture. Without a word, he went to the
chair at the head of the table, and took a seat.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The Council
Member at the far end of the table stood up. “Who are you, and how did you get
in here? We were expecting the Adon.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He studied the
man for a few moments, and then leaned forward to rest folded hands on the
table. “Sit down, Beretti.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The man returned
a shocked look. “I beg your pardon. I am a member of the Ruling Council, and I
do not take orders from the likes of you.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“No, Beretti.
You take your orders from your Corporate Benefactors and the Colonial Council.
That will no longer be the case. I am the new Adon, and you will take orders
from the likes of me.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Another Council
Member spoke up. “Preposterous! If something has happened to the Adon, then the
new Adon is chosen by this Council.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“That may have
been how it was once done, Grenwald, but by appointment of the Revolutionary
Council, I am the new Adon. Your choice now is to pledge your loyalty to me and
work with the Revolutionary Council for the smooth transition of power, or to
find yourselves arrested as enemies of Alsafi.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Beretti looked
like he was ready to have an aneurism. “This is against the Archipelago
Charter. When the Colonial Council hears of this-”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I have severed
our bonds to the Archipelago. Alsafi is now an independent, autonomous world,
free of the imposition of the Colonial Council and their oppressive Charter.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“You can’t do
that!”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I already have,
and as I have already said, your choice is to side with me, or to join the
deposed Adon as an enemy of Alsafi. Might I suggest that any of you that wishes
to remain loyal to the old Adon, stand up now. Any of you ready to accept the
new ruling order, take a seat.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Better than half
of the Council stood up, most with angry expressions. Those that remained
seated appeared confused and uncertain.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thank you for
clarifying your positions. Those of you standing should step back against the wall,
and wait to be taken into custody.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Beretti laughed
at him. “It’s you who should wait to be taken into custody. We have the
majority opinion of the Ruling Council standing up, and the Alsafi Security
Forces obey the Ruling Council.” He looked at the guard by the door. “You there
– arrest this usurper.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The guard came
and stood next to him. “Esteemed sir?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He waved his
hand in resignation. “Show Beretti to the wall.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes, Esteemed
Sir.” The guard moved swiftly to the other end of the table, and seized Beretti
by the arms. The man gave a cry of outrage and protest, before he was flung
face-first into the wall. Beretti collapsed to the floor, with blood streaming
from his nose.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Now, does
anyone else need any help finding the wall?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Grenwald folded
his arms. “You have one guard in the room. We have our assistants. You can’t
overpower us all.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He smiled. “Your
assistants, yes. I should remind you that each one of your assistants is an
Empty, programmed before they were delivered to you.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“And your point
- ?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I promise you
that you do not want to rely on them for your safety.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“But I should
rely on you to be truthful?” Grenwald pointed a finger at him. “I’d say you
were behind this entire uprising. You were the one breaking into the media
servers and encouraging sedition.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He stood and
bowed. “Guilty as charged, but your realization is too late to do you any good.”
He looked to the young man that stood behind Grenwald. “You may act on
Administrative Resolution Fifteen.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“You can’t give
my assistant orders-”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Before Grenwald
finished speaking, his assistant delivered a kick to the side of his knee,
dropping him to the floor. As Grenwald tried to get back up, the young man took
hold of his head in both hands and gave a sudden twist, and then let the
Council Member’s body slump to the floor.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
With expressions
of shock and fear, the remaining standing Council Members hurried to the wall.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“The Alsafi
Security Forces obey me now. Your Empties will obey me. The population of
Alsafi will soon hail me as their liberator, so if any of you sitting here are
harboring any thoughts of subversive actions, forget them now. Have I made
myself understood?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The voices were
weak, but there was a chorus of, “Yes, Esteemed Sir” from the Council Members
that had remained seated.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Good.
Assistants, take your former masters to join the former Adon. The guards
outside will direct you where to go. Two of you others, help Grenwald’s assistant
to remove him from these chambers.” He waited until they were all gone, and
then looked around at the remaining faces. “Now, before we get down to the
business of a smooth transition of power, are there any questions?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A woman to his
left raised her hand slightly. “Where is the former Adon?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He smiled. “I
will indulge that as the one and only question I will allow about him.” He spun
his chair to face the large display mounted on the wall. “System, display feed
from Provisional Corrections circuit six.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The display illuminated
to show a long gallows, where two bodies dangled from ropes.</div>
<br />
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Welcome to the
new order of Alsafi. I promise you that dissent will not be tolerated.”</div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-40143945408489470632013-09-26T20:54:00.000-07:002013-09-26T20:54:24.837-07:00Friday Fiction for September 27, 2013<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Friday
Fiction is hosted this week over on <a href="http://karleneajacobsen.blogspot.com/2013/09/until-then.html" target="_blank">Karlene A. Jacobsen</a>’s blog. If you came
here first, make sure you get over there to find the Linky widget and the other
submissions for your weekend reading pleasure.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Starting
sometime in the next week or two, “Marta’s Pod” will get the professional
editing in preparation for publication. When I first wrote “Cardan’s Pod,” I
finished that story, but the characters just wouldn’t leave me alone. I
immediately launched into writing the sequel, which not only became “Marta’s
Pod,” but also ended up as the longest single story I’ve written to date. At
one time, I considered trying to divide it into two stories, but there were so
many things happening concurrently in that time span of the tale, that any attempt
to make it into two books would inevitably result in spoilers. One book would
reveal key outcomes of the other. I elected to leave it as one book, though I
have pared it down by around 15000 – 20000 words from its peak length. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">This
week, I thought it would be fun to post a “teaser,” with the opening events of
the book. This is about five years after the closing events of “Cardan’s Pod.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Marta’s
Pod<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Prologue<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: center 3.15in left 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Trouble
is the common denominator of living. It is the great equalizer.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">~
Soren Kierkegaard</span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Gerald
Lawton removed the mail from the box, and sorted through the stack. The junk
mail was gathered together beneath the important pieces, which included several
bills and statements from insurance companies. An envelope from a County
Recorder was held separate from the other mail, as he stepped back through the
open front door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He
glanced momentarily at his son. Mark Lawton sat in a wheelchair, silently
watching a television talk show. The young man’s expression revealed nothing of
his thoughts on the program. Mark had the same reaction regardless of what was
on the screen. “You want me to change the channel?” Gerald asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Mark
shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I doubt there’s anything better on, anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He
shook his head. “Up to you,” he said. “You could do something else besides
watching junk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Sure,
Dad. Maybe I’ll go for a run. Oh wait - I can’t. I don’t have any stinkin’
legs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: -1.1in -.6in -.1in .4in .9in 1.4in 1.9in 2.4in 2.9in 3.4in 3.9in 4.4in 4.9in 5.4in 5.9in; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> I know, son, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Gerald thought.<i> You remind me every chance you get, it seems. What happened to the
smiling, upbeat kid we raised? Did they have to amputate your sense of humor
after the accident, too?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Entering
the kitchen, he dropped the junk mail in the recycle bin without slowing his
step, and took the bills to the sorter by the refrigerator. Once his hands were
free, he used his pocket knife to slice open the end of the remaining envelope,
and removed the document inside. He unfolded it, and looked it over as he
reached for his mug of coffee. “Linda?” His hand stopped shy of the cup handle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Is
that Mark’s Birth Certificate?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He
shook his head. “It’s not his.” He handed the document to his wife. “They sent
us one for some gal named Marta Lawton. You’d think they would have checked the
parents’ names and seen that they didn’t match.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Gerald?”
She handed the certificate back to him. “They do match. We’re listed as Marta
Lawton’s parents.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “What?
How?” He read over the form. “This lists Anthony Marcel as the delivering physician,
too, but this one is dated six years after Mark was born. I know we used to
have a copy of Mark’s birth certificate, and everything was correct. Where did
this one come from?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “I
don’t know.” She turned her head in the direction of the living room. “I would
certainly remember if I’d ever had any other children besides Mark.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He
slapped the certificate onto the dining table. “I’ll have to call them today,
and get them to send the right certificate. They’d better not charge me for the
correct copy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> A
week. That was all it had taken for what should have been dismissed as a stupid
clerical error to turn into a family crisis. <i>I got a thirty-four year old son acting like his life is over, and now
I have to deal with Linda wondering if I’ve cheated on her, because some
suspicious friend of hers suggested maybe I’d fathered a child with another
woman, and tried to hide it by using her name. I don’t need this stress.
Retirement was supposed to be relaxing.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Gerald
read over the listing of Private Investigators on the computer, and selected
one that specialized in searching for people. <i>This is going to be expensive, I know it, but it’s gotta be cheaper
than a divorce, which is where we’re headed if we don’t figure out who used our
names and why. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Chapter
1</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Mothers
are fonder than fathers of their children because they are more certain they
are their own.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">~
Aristotle<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Linda and Gerald sat on the couch,
facing the Private Investigator over the coffee table. A gap large enough for
another person remained between them, which would not have been as likely
before the suspicions and doubts caused by the wrong certificate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The investigator looked over the notes
in his hand. “The County Recorder’s Office had no explanation for how you
received the wrong birth certificate in the first place.” He flipped to another
sheet. “Errors of this nature are not supposed to happen. They verified that it
is genuine, though they expressed confusion. About eight years ago, they
changed formats, and while Mark’s certificate is the old style, Marta Lawton’s
is the new. Considering it lists her birth date as almost twenty years before
the new form was even considered, let alone adopted, it suggests this
certificate was issued well after her birth.” He dropped the papers on the coffee
table. “I explored several options on this, not the least of which is that both
of your identities were ‘appropriated’ by someone for whatever reason. The
easiest way to have verified that would have been to talk to Dr. Marcel and
determine if he recalled the parents of Marta Lawton and what they looked like.
Unfortunately, Dr. Marcel was killed in a lab accident almost ten years ago.
However, his former associates all attested to his remarkable memory for names
and faces. If he had strangers claiming to be you, they say he would have known
immediately, especially considering how much time you say you spent with him. I
would say this also tends to rule out that another woman was posing as you,
Mrs. Lawton, since Dr. Marcel would have spotted that as well. He might have
accepted that Gerald had divorced and remarried, but he would have questioned
the coincidence of both wives having the exact same first and middle names.
It’s not impossible, but the likelihood is very slim. I found it odd as well
that, according to one person I spoke with, Dr. Marcel was no longer practicing
obstetrics when Marta Lawton was supposedly born; he was working strictly
research at the time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">He sat back and folded his hands
together. “I thought maybe Marta Lawton had been a non-entity, created for the
purpose of defrauding the government or something. It wouldn’t be unheard of
for someone to falsify birth records to try and gain some kind of funding for
either their personal or departmental usage. However, no records existed of any
such claims made on her behalf. In fact, I could find no<i> </i>childhood records of Marta Lawton at all. I considered that Marta
Lawton was a new identity created for someone for purposes of hiding,
explaining the lack of any records of her youth. That’s still a possibility,
but in cases like that they usually take the name of someone who died in
infancy, instead of creating a whole new personage. After all, if you’d had a
daughter named Marta who’d died as a baby you wouldn’t be suspicious to find
her birth certificate, would you? Now, finding her marriage license after you’d
thought her dead? That would raise eyebrows. You’ll find a copy of that
particular document in the stack I just gave you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">He gave them a moment to look it over.
“The pastor who married them would not tell me anything about her either,
claiming confidentiality issues. Whoever she is, she apparently exists and is
now married to Joshua Cardan, a rather wealthy if somewhat reclusive man. He
gets out in public, but he doesn’t play the typical social scene much. I can
find plenty of information about him, including a rather juicy story of his
first wife trying to kill him for his money, and loads of pictures and records
of his life. Marta Lawton Cardan, however, is a phantom. Their marriage license
was issued without her present; no newspaper carried any mention of the
wedding, even though Cardan would certainly merit scrutiny from at least the
local gossip columnists. Marta Lawton Cardan does not have a driver’s license,
though she does have a Social Security number. Even talking with some of
Cardan’s associates, none of them have ever seen Mrs. Cardan, though they
report that Mr. Cardan speaks lovingly of her and seems happier than he’s ever
been.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“What do we do now?” Gerald leaned back
and crossed his arms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Every avenue I tried in contacting
Marta Cardan was closed to me. I tried to find out where they live, but wasn’t
able to get any clear answer. Joshua Cardan owns a number of properties, but he
sold his house soon after the murder attempt. I tried contacting him, but he
refused to take any of my calls. Very shortly thereafter, I was contacted by an
FBI agent who advised me very strongly to drop my investigation. I might have
narrowed down where he lives with a bit more time, but frankly I’m not going to
call the FBI’s bluff on this. If the government’s involved, my hands are tied
and I can’t even really give you advice; however, the number for Joshua
Cardan’s office is in my report in your hands. Maybe if you get this wild idea
to call and tell him you’re his wife’s parents, he might talk to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“But we can’t be his wife’s parents.”
Linda looked from the investigator, to Gerald, and then back. <i>Say something, Gerald. Give me something
reassuring.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The investigator gave them a smile. “My
curtailed investigation was inconclusive, so maybe he doesn’t know whether you
really are or aren’t. If he knows you’re just two people whose names got tagged
onto his wife’s birth certificate, he may talk to you in order to figure out
how to get you to drop this inquiry. Or, he might just talk to you because he
thinks you are his in-laws. The worst that happens is you don’t get anywhere,
in which case you’re in the same boat you’re in right now. But, of course, I
can’t tell you to try anything like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-86160321336260321112013-09-12T22:38:00.000-07:002013-09-12T22:38:29.763-07:00Friday Fiction for September 13, 2013<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Welcome to Friday Fiction,
which I have the privilege of hosting this week! Look for the Linky widget
below, and enter your submission for this week’s fiction reading.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>It’s not often I write a
story set in a non-sci-fi setting, but sometimes an idea pops into my head and
just won’t go away. This scenario occurred to me this week, and kept
circulating in my brain until I wrote it down. No mermaids or talking dogs or
clockwork men or space aliens or other such this week – just a fool for your
entertainment. I hope you enjoy.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="Rick">
<link href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/styles/default.css" media="all" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css"></link><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/loc_en.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/opt_defaults.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/misterlinky.js"></script><script src="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/autolink.php?mode=standard&owner=Hoomi&postid=13Sep2013" type="text/javascript"></script></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="Rick" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 24.0pt;">A Fool’s End<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="Rick" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">By Rick Higginson<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Rick">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He walked
through the city streets, mostly ignored by the town’s people. The occasional
child would notice him, and when they called to him he would perform a silly
dance as he continued down the dirty road, but mostly he just walked. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
For a moment,
the palace appeared ahead, just visible in the gap between two buildings, and
he offered a silent prayer that the position had not already been filled.
Performing in taverns and village squares, in the hope that the audience would
be pleased enough to provide him with a meal, was not the most reliable
livelihood.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A soldier
watched him approach as he climbed the steps to the palace, and the man’s hand
went to the hilt of his sword. “State your business.” </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He bowed with a
flourish. “My lord, I am Benito the Jester, and I have heard your most noble
king is seeking a fool for his court. I have come to offer my services.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Empty your bag.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes, my lord.”
He placed the threadbare bag on the stone and removed his props one by one,
arranging them for the guard to see.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The soldier
grunted, and nudged several of the items with his foot. “Wait just inside.” He
opened the door and stood to one side. “A servant will show you where to go.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Benito gathered
his props and bowed again. “Thank you, my lord.” He passed through the door,
and stopped just far enough inside that he would not be hit by the heavy wood
and metal when it closed. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
After a few
minutes, an old man approached and looked him over. “A fool are ye? Aye, ye
must be, to have come to this place. Come this way, then.” He turned and headed
back through the entry hall.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Benito hurried
to follow him. “So, the position is still unfilled?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The old man
maintained a steady muttering to himself, and did not answer. Every few
moments, he would cackle with amusement at something or other, but never shared
whatever he had found funny. He finally stopped and opened a small door. “Ye
wait in here, and be ye ready when his highness calls ye. His majesty don’t
take kindly to bein’ kept waitin, ye know.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Most certainly.”
He gave the man a bow before entering the room. “Thank you, my good man.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The old man
laughed as he closed the door. “Fools, the lot o’ them.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A single window
high in the wall provided the only light in the room, which was just as well.
The room had nothing to look at, and the only furnishing was a worn wooden
bench in the far corner. Save for the lack of any lock on the door, it could
have been a dungeon cell. <i>I pray they
have a better reception for visiting royalty.</i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He sat on the
bench and considered napping, save for the old man’s admonition. Instead, he
mentally rehearsed his best material and routines, thinking over which ones to
use depending on what his impressions might be of the king. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The solitary
beam of sunlight from the window marked the passage of several hours, as it
moved from low on the opposite wall to well above his reach, and Benito began
to wonder if he was to spend the night in the barren room. Finally, the door
opened, and a man dressed in finer clothing stood outside. “The king summons
you, fool. Come with me.” The man never looked directly at him.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Benito flipped
his prop bag over his shoulder, and followed with lively steps. He brought the
smile to both his lips and his eyes, preparing both his mind and his body for
the performance.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The royal
attendant stopped before a pair of ornate doors. “You are the third fool his
majesty has seen this week. For your own sake, do not disappoint him.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thank you, my
lord.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Hold your
thanks until after you have seen the king.” The man pulled the door, and
gestured for Benito to enter.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The king slumped
in his throne at the far end of the room. A large expanse of open floor in
front of the throne was lined on either side by guards, and covered in the
middle by what had once been an exquisite carpet. Lighting in the room was
provided by rows of torches along the walls, and the air was heavy with the
accumulated smoke.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Benito bowed
low. “Your majesty.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The king waved
impatiently. “Come forward, fool, and tell us your name.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He walked up the
center, and stopped a respectful distance from the throne before bowing again. “I
am Benito the Jester, your majesty.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The king leaned
forward. “Well, Benito the Jester, we have seen two other fools in the past
three days, and we will now tell you the same thing we told them. The one of
you that pleases us most shall have the position in my court. Of the other two,
one will be free to go, but the one who pleased us least will die.” He sat back
in the throne. “Do not displease us.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He felt a twist
in his gut, and his mouth went dry. “Forgive my impertinence, your majesty, but
did you say that the penalty for not being as good as the other two, is death?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Are you deaf,
fool? Yes, that is what we said.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He kept his head
lowered, and took a deep breath. “I am sorry, your majesty, but I cannot
perform.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“To refuse us is
to forfeit your life, fool. Do you not wish to live?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Most dearly,
your majesty, but for me to live is to bring laughter and merriment to the
lives of people. I cannot imagine how I could ever do so again, if I knew that
my performance condemned another to death.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“You would
choose death, to spare the lives of two fools you have never met?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes, my lord,
because another chose death to spare the life of this fool. If I am to die
today, then it will be so that I may go and perform in His court.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Then so be it.
Captain of the guard – our sword!”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He remained
bowed, even as the king’s feet came into his view. A polished blade dangled
with the point just in front of the king’s ankles.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Is this still
your choice, fool?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Yes, your
majesty.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The sword lifted
from his view, and the king shifted his weight from his heels as he hefted the
heavy weapon. Benito closed his eyes, and began a silent prayer as he waited
for the stroke of the blade. <i>Lord God
Almighty, make it quick and merciful.</i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A weight dropped
to his shoulder, and then a hand to his other arm. “Arise, fool, and look at
us.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Benito opened
his eyes. The sword rested flat on his shoulder, and the king was on one knee. “Your
majesty?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“We have many
soldiers and knights who will go into battle at our command. They will fight
and they will die at our word, and consider it honorable to do so. Many are
noblemen, born and raised to the chivalrous arts, and yet, never have we seen
such a man as we have seen today. Answer us truthfully, Benito the Jester –
will you tell us when we are being fools?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I do not
understand, your majesty.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“We wish for you
to serve in our court; to bring laughter and merriment to us, and to be bold
enough to tell us when we are being foolish in our rulings.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“What of the
other jesters?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“They are free
to go, and to live with the knowledge that they would have traded another’s
life for their own. They have proven that they are truly fools, and we will not
have a fool in our court.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“But, I am a
fool, your majesty.”</div>
<br />
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Nay, Benito.
Your time as a fool is ended. By Royal Appointment, you are Benito, Noble
Jester.”</div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-12888756489622116272013-08-30T22:37:00.000-07:002013-08-30T22:37:53.401-07:00Friday Fiction for August 30 2013
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Friday Fiction is hosted this week by Sara
over at <a href="http://fictionfusion.blogspot.com/2013/08/craegen-cassie-aldracks-part-1-friday.html" target="_blank">Fiction Fusion</a>. Don’t miss Sara’s creative story, or the other
submissions!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Last week’s story was a short Steampunk
Character sketch, and my plan is to incorporate the characters into a new
chapter or two in “Clockwork Deacon.” Different writers have their own ideas of
what elements to include in the Steampunk genre. Some include supernatural
elements such as zombies and vampires, or alternate dimensions, or time travel,
and some even include a little magic. That’s the beauty of fiction – we write
the rules for our world. Myself, I prefer to stick to the idea of the kinds of
things that could have been theoretically possible, given the scientific laws
we know at this time, applied to the scenario of Victorian Era Mad Science. In
essence, sticking to this world, but with a hypothetical divergence in history.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><br />
As such, Steampunk can easily retain the potential in Christian Fiction. It was
fun to play with the idea of a character whose ability to communicate is
severely limited, and with whom so much is left as an enigma. How the other
characters in Loma Roja deal with Deacon, and their perceptions of him, gave me
a great deal of story material. I especially liked how this played out in this
chapter.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 24pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Chapter 11<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The Typewriter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">From “Clockwork Deacon”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">It
might have seemed strange, that Loma Roja had an Automaton in the town before
a typewriter, but that was how it happened. Oddly enough, the Reverend was
responsible for both. A conference in Phoenix called him away from the small
town, and when he returned, he brought back the Underwood with him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
device was something of a curiosity, and folks made a special trip to the
pastor's study to view the marvelous writing machine. He extolled its
advantages, particularly those of readable archives of sermon notes and church
records, though there was some speculation that the man had simply discovered a
new toy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
retreated to the study in the evening, and locked the door. Deacon waited in
the corner, while he began to type out notes. The typewriter was positioned on
the desk to that Deacon could easily see what the Reverend was doing. He said
nothing to the Automaton, and gave no indication that he required anything from
the copper servant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
would glance from time to time at the metal face, and then return to the
typing. Each night, he took the paper from the machine, and locked it in a
drawer of his desk. A fresh sheet of paper remained in the typewriter, and the
Reverend would retire to bed, leaving Deacon in the study.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Mrs.
Randolph placed his breakfast in front of him. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Just what are you up to all these nights in
there, all by yourself?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"> she
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">I'm
not all by myself,</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">
Reverend Randolph replied. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon
is with me.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">All
right, so you're not by yourself. What are you two doing in there?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">I am
working on a project, that I would rather not divulge at the moment,</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"> he
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Well,
I would ask Deacon, but he wouldn't be able to answer me anyway. It just
concerns me that you're staying up so late every night.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">It's
nothing to worry about, my dear. I assure you, I won't over-tax myself on this.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">After
breakfast, he went to his study, and looked at the paper in the typewriter. The
paper was blank, and Deacon had gone about his chores for the day. He heaved a
sigh, and started on his sermon notes for the next meeting of the church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">That
night, he locked the door of the study, and pulled a chair in front of Deacon.
In one hand, he held a sign with large letters. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon, do you know what this says?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"> he
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon
looked at the sign, and gave a single nod.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Can
you read the sign, or do you know what it says based on what has been taught to
you previously?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">There
was no response.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">How
clumsy of me. I asked the question in a manner that you cannot answer with a
simple yes or no. Deacon, can you read?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
head clicked side to side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Can
you learn?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
processed the question, and then gave his nod.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon,
if you learned to read, then you would be able to write as well. You would be
able to communicate with us in more than just gestures, or just by nodding or
shaking your head. Do you understand?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">I do
not expect you to master penmanship, but I believe you can easily learn to use
the typewriter. Have you been watching me use it these past couple of weeks?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Do
you understand its function?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
single side to side shake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
typewriter is a machine that imprints letters onto a sheet of paper, that
anyone who knows how to read can then understand. These letters, when grouped
together in a specific order, represent the words we speak. You could put words
onto paper, that I could know what you are thinking. Do you understand?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon
nodded again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Reverend
Randolph went to his shelf, and removed a children's reading primer. He turned
to the first page, and began with the letter 'A'. It was difficult to judge how
well Deacon understood the lessons, since he could not repeat back the
information being imparted to him. At the end of the evening, though, the
pastor put a fresh sheet of blank paper into the typewriter, and had Deacon
stand over it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Do
you see the letter 'A' on the typewriter, Deacon? If so, press the key.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
mechanical hand reached forward, and typed a single letter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">His
excitement turned to disappointment. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">That
is the letter 'H'. Look at the 'A' in this book again, Deacon, and see if you
can find it on the typewriter.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">It
took four more tries before Deacon struck the correct key. Subsequent letters
of the alphabet took similar numbers of attempts, and by the time it late
enough to call it a night, he'd barely made it through half the alphabet. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Tomorrow
evening, Deacon. We'll resume tomorrow evening.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
next evening, he started back at the letter 'A', and was pleased to find that,
at least he didn't have to start all over again. Deacon correctly identified
each letter he had successfully learned the night before. Before they finished
that night, Deacon knew the entire alphabet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Over the
next week, though, teaching him how to use the alphabet proved to be an even
greater challenge. Still using the children's primer, Rev. Randolph prompted
Deacon to form simple words. He would type the letters as the pastor dictated
them, but when told to type the word 'cat,' the Automaton sat there and waited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon,
do you understand what a cat is?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"> He
felt like he was giving a scolding to a recalcitrant child. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">I
have explained what letters form the word cat, and you know where these letters
are located on the typewriter. It should be a simple matter, then for you to
write the word.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon
rested in front of the typewriter, as still as if he were waiting in the back
of the church for services to finish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Reverend
Randolph settled into his chair, next to the Automaton. His voice became soft
and pensive. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">You've
been part of this family almost as long as my sons have, and a part of this
community for all the years since we moved here. We can speak to you, and you
respond to us with your actions, but do you know how much we long to have you
respond to us in the means that we understand best?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">That
was the frustration; he spoke candidly, and yet Deacon gave no indication of
the statement having any impact upon him. He neither inclined his head to look
at the Reverend, nor gave any gesture whatsoever to offer any clue to what his
response might be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">You
learn so many things that we never expected you to learn, nor that we even
thought to teach you. You simply learned by watching us, or maybe by reasoning
out the process in your own mind. Surely, you can learn this, can you not?
Surely, the thought processes built into your mind must mimic our own in some
way, or least be able to be translated into words we can understand. All the
things you've done for this family and this town, there must be wisdom and
intellect within you. Surely, you can either confirm or deny that with a simple
yes or no answer?</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Deacon
still did not respond, and the minister lowered his head into his hands. <i>Lord,
is this how we are to Thee? Dost Thou ask us questions, and we go about our
daily lives as if we did not even hear Thee? Does my my spirit remain quiet and
unresponsive, when Thou tryest to teach me how better to pray? Lord, am I to
Thee even half as good a servant as Deacon is to me? I would that I could
confidently say 'yes,' but Lord, I know if I tell Deacon to go and work here,
he will go. How many times hast Thou commanded me to go and serve, and I have
instead gone about my own business instead of Thine? Father in Heaven, what
could he teach me, if Deacon could but speak?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">There
was a touch on his shoulder, and he raised his face to look at the Automaton
standing over him. The static eyes were turned his way, and one hand rested on
him in a close approximation of a supportive gesture, before the face turned
towards the door and Deacon rolled away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Rev.
Randolph stood and followed, retrieving the key from the door after Deacon had
unlocked it and passed through. The Automaton led him outside, and to the dark
area behind the church, away from any light escaping from nearby windows. The
copper face turned skyward, and stared out at the myriads of stars shining
overhead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 0in 35.4pt 70.8pt 106.25pt 141.7pt 177.15pt 212.7pt 248.1pt 283.5pt 318.95pt 354.4pt 389.85pt 425.4pt 6.4in 496.2pt 498.4pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
Pastor looked up also, wondering if there were something out there special to
see, or if Deacon's focus was on a particular asterism, but he could not
discern anything beyond the general area the gaze was aimed at.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 0in 35.4pt 70.8pt 106.25pt 141.7pt 177.15pt 212.7pt 248.1pt 283.5pt 318.95pt 354.4pt 389.85pt 425.4pt 6.4in 496.2pt 498.4pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Do
you wonder about the stars, Deacon? With words, you can ask questions, and
maybe receive answers.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 0in 35.4pt 70.8pt 106.25pt 141.7pt 177.15pt 212.7pt 248.1pt 283.5pt 318.95pt 354.4pt 389.85pt 425.4pt 6.4in 496.2pt 498.4pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
just stood, staring, and not moving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 0in 35.4pt 70.8pt 106.25pt 141.7pt 177.15pt 212.7pt 248.1pt 283.5pt 318.95pt 354.4pt 389.85pt 425.4pt 6.4in 496.2pt 498.4pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Rev.
Randolph sighed, trying to fathom whatever might be holding Deacon's attention.
He quoted the first Scripture to come to mind. </span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">A</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">When I consider Thy heavens, the work of
Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained; what is man,
that Thou art mindful of him? And the son of man, that Thou visitest him? For
Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with
glory and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of Thy hands;
Thou hast put all things under his feet: All sheep and oxen, yea, and the
beasts of the field; the fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and
whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.</span><span style="font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols"; mso-ascii-font-family: Garamond; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Garamond; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: "WP TypographicSymbols";">@</span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
clockwork sound of motion drew his eyes away from the sky. Deacon nodded at
him, and then rolled to his shed. The door of the shed closed, and he was left
alone in the dark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">I
don't understand. Did he bring me out here just to get me to quote that Psalm?
Or did that Psalm satisfy whatever question he had in his head? Was it for him,
or for me? If man is a little lower than the angels, what does that make
Deacon? If we question why God would be mindful of men, what must that imply to
Deacon? He is a most complicated device of man's ingenuity, and yet, compared
to all that God has made, he is as insignificant as those toys that he made for
Christmas some years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 0in 35.4pt 70.8pt 106.25pt 141.7pt 177.15pt 212.7pt 248.1pt 283.5pt 318.95pt 354.4pt 389.85pt 425.4pt 6.4in 496.2pt 498.4pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span class="DefaultPara"><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">I am as insignificant as one of those toys, and I am in
infinitely more complicated creation of God's ingenuity. I can't even puzzle
out the workings of a less complicated toy.</span></i></span><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">He turned his eyes back towards the house and the
study.<i> I'm not even sure how the typewriter works, yet, I can't help but
feel that Deacon studied it that first night, and deciphered every mechanical
detail of the machine. So, why can't he make use of it the way it is intended
to be used?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">He
returned his gaze to the stars for a while, before retiring to bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-83797926195268724682013-08-23T23:05:00.000-07:002013-08-24T00:08:15.823-07:00Friday Fiction for August 23, 2013<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Welcome to Friday Fiction, hosted this
week by Karlene over at <a href="http://anna-karlene-jeffrey.blogspot.com/2013/08/semony.html" target="_blank">Undaunted Devotion.</a> Don’t miss the other submissions
for your weekend reading pleasure!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">My wonderful Nancy’s birthday was this
week, so I wanted something special for her. We’ve been working on Steampunk
costumes for a little while now. If you don’t know what Steampunk is, think
Jules Verne taken to the next level. Steampunk is a genre of fiction and costuming/cosplay
that imagines a Victorian Era wherein Mad Science truly ruled, and fantastic
inventions powered by steam and clockwork were commonplace – where the skies
were crossed by behemoth dirigible airships, and men such as Nikola Tesla were
the most celebrated heroes of all.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Nancy’s Steampunk character is still in
development, while mine is fairly well defined, so I’ve been a bit vague on
hers in this sketch. Still, I wanted to have some fun with the characters, and
just explore a little bit how they might interact given the current direction
they’re going. The setting is the very early 1900s, in the southern part of the
Arizona Territory. I hope you enjoy this brand-new piece of fiction!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt;">Steampunk Characters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">An Experimental Sketch<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He waited in subdued light. The only
window not fully shuttered was the one he sat beside, and it was only open
enough for him to watch the street. His hat hung on the nearby bedpost, and his
weapon rested across his legs. With a stained and faded bandana, he mopped the
sweat from his forehead. While the worst of summer was over for the year, it
was still hot, and whatever breeze might have been blowing outside did not find
its way to the narrow gap in the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The rumored riders should arrive
soon, provided the information was reliable. The nearby copper mine took
careful measures to protect the secret of when the couriers with the payroll
would arrive, but information could be obtained in many ways, including from
sullen clerks after a few too many drinks. He hadn’t even needed to buy a round
for the two underpaid men.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Two horsemen came around the
buildings at the far end of the street, and he leaned closer to the window. The
weapon was in his hands without so much as a conscious thought, but he kept the
barrel well within the dark room. All it would take was a stray glint of metal to
betray his presence, and ruin all his preparations. <i>I been waitin’ a long time for this one, and I might not get another
shot.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The two riders dismounted in front
of the mercantile, seemingly unconcerned with the possibility that they were
being watched. <i>If this is them, they’re
either certain the secret is safe, or they’re foolishly confident in their
ability to handle trouble.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He brought the end of the barrel to
rest just inside the window, where he could easily lift it and aim quickly.
Continuing to watch, his focus narrowed on the two men. They did not enter the
mercantile, but stood chewing the fat as though waiting for someone. <i>That fits the information – act like they
ain’t got nothin’, so’s nobody has any cause to think they have somethin’. This
has gotta be them.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> A commotion erupted from somewhere
farther up the street, and he shouldered the weapon. He slipped the trigger
from the safe position to the ready, and used the barrel to push the shutter
just a bit farther open. Shouts of surprise and alarm drew closer, along with a
chaotic mechanical sound.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The two riders stood staring up the
street with confused looks. <i>Don’t just
stand there like a couple of ninnies – move, you fools!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> An old brass Automaton careened into
view, kicking up dust in its chaotic path and filling the air with oily smoke
and steam. He aimed his weapon at the dull, oxidized torso and tracked it as it
came closer. When it reached the middle of the street nearest to him, he pulled
the trigger. The room filled with a rapid popping sound, just before a blinding
arc flashed from the barrel out to the metal man in the street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The Automaton spun in place, with
its arms twitching as though it were having a seizure, before it simply
stopped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He held the weapon in his left hand
and threw the window open with his right. Drawing his old revolver with his
right hand as he climbed out the window, he scanned near the two riders for his
real objective. A man dressed in old cavalry trousers and a stained muslin
shirt stood just outside the mercantile, and for just a moment, he caught the
man’s eyes. There was surprise and fear in the man’s eyes, and he turned to
sprint up the street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He gave chase, with the Lightning
Rifle in his left hand, and the now-cocked revolver in his right. He didn’t
bother yelling. In all his apprehensions as an Arizona Ranger, he’d never had
an outlaw that had just stopped and surrendered because he shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The man ducked between two
buildings, maybe fifty yards ahead of him. <i>If
he’s got a horse waitin’ there for him, then I’m gonna be lucky to get one
shot.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Coaxing as much speed as he could
out of his old legs, he reached the gap between the buildings and brought the
revolver up to level.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> A woman stood in the shade between the
buildings. “Gonna shoot me, Seth?” A copper handgun version of his Lightning
Rifle was in her hand, aimed at the man who now twitched on the ground at her
feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “I was wonderin’ if you were gonna
show up here,” Seth said, lowering the revolver. “What’d’ja do to him, anyway?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Her lips curled into a sly smile,
and her eyes were almost obscured by the short brim of the bowler hat on her
head. “Clumsy me; I grabbed my Lightning Pistol instead of my Derringer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “You shot him with the Lightning?
You know them’s for the Automatons, and not people.” He stepped over the prone
man, and held the revolver trained at the face. “There’s no tellin’ how long
the effects’ll last on a man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Interesting that it seems to have
about the same effect on him, as it has on Automatons.” Her finger stayed on
the trigger. “I could always hit him again, unless, of course, you’d rather haul
his dead body all the way back to Phoenix.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “He’d be less trouble that way.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Not sure he would smell much worse,
either.” She nudged the man with a booted foot. “I know this is a desert, but
there are baths available. You really should avail yourself of them from time
to time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “So, are the Pinkertons gonna take
credit for this one?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Well, I did capture him for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Seth removed the man’s pistol, and rolled
him onto his belly. “So you did. You still got them fancy cuffs of yours?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Of course.” She dropped them on the
man’s back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Much obliged.” He bound the man’s
hands together, just as the local sheriff and a deputy ran up to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The sheriff had his gun on them. “You
wanna explain what’s goin’ on?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Seth Holtwick, with the Arizona
Rangers.” He stood up, and turned so his badge was showing. “We’ve been after
this feller for a while. He’s been stealin’ Automatons, tinkerin’ with ‘em
somehow to make ‘em act all crazy, and then uses ‘em for a distraction to make
robberies easier.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “You came to my town, and didn’t
think you oughta let me know?” The sheriff had his gun lowered, but didn’t
holster it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “If you knew a Ranger was in town,
then likely others’d know, too. If he’d gotten wind that I was here, he’d’ve
been miles away by now. You’re welcome to take it up with the Governor, if you’ve
a mind to, but I don’t ‘spect he’ll tell you much different.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The sheriff released an annoyed
huff, and slid his revolver back into the holster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> Seth smiled. “If you’n your deputy
would be so kind as to take this man back to your jail, I’d be much obliged. I
need to send a telegraph to Phoenix to let ‘em know we have him, and make
arrangements to take him in for trial.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> The two local lawmen lifted the man,
and dragged him off towards the jail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “I’m hurt, Seth. You didn’t
introduce me.” She put the Lightning Pistol into a safe condition, and slid it
out of sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Yeah, well, I figgered if he wasn’t
none too happy with an Arizona Ranger in his town, he might be even less happy
with a Pinkerton.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “He probably would not have even
believed I’m with Pinkerton.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “So, what do we do now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Well, you could buy me a drink.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> He offered her his arm. “Always good
to see you, Shal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “You too, Seth.” She patted his arm
as they turned towards the saloon. “I see you still have a cannon up your
sleeve.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Always afraid to ask what you got
up your sleeve.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"> “Maybe I’ll show you someday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-3174786040673084352013-08-15T22:12:00.000-07:002013-08-15T22:13:38.091-07:00Friday Fiction for 16 August 2013<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>It's my turn this week to host Friday Fiction, and if this works correctly, the Mr. Linky Widget should follow this header. Join in the fun and share your short fiction blog this week, and enjoy the other submissions!</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>I commented two weeks ago that I had taken the short story, "Reef, Her Madness," from early 2010 as my outline for NaNoWriMo last year. I completely rewrote the story, start to finish, expanding it from a 7 part short to a 65,400 word novel. Where the original story started ended up as Chapter 7 in the rewrite, and I thought it would be fun to post the new version of that scene for comparison. The rewrite allowed me to lead into this scene, as well as share other parts of the story from different POVs, while still keeping it a very fun story to write. The original first part of "Reef, Her Madness" posted on January 29th, 2010, and can be read<a href="http://podtalesandponderings.blogspot.com/2010/01/friday-fiction-is-hosted-this-week-by.html" target="_blank"> here</a>, if you wish to compare.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Chasing the Sharks</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 7</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Timothy slid open the sliding glass
door and crawled onto the lanai. He fiddled for a few moments with the locking
mechanism they had cobbled together for him, until he managed to get the door
properly secured. It always felt strange when they traveled away from the Pod’s
island, and had to secure things against theft. Such a consideration had never
been an issue when it was just the Pod. First, they had never had much to steal
anyway, and once they stated to accumulate possessions after Joshua Cardan
arrived, they had tended to share freely. Why would one steal, what one could
just as easily borrow whenever they wished?</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Of course, the bulk of human society
was vastly different from the Pod in almost every way, and there were many that
thought nothing of taking whatever they wanted. Whatever any of them might
think about it, the reality remained, and they had to deal with it.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
From the lanai, he dropped to the
fine sand of the beach. Even in the low morning sun, the sand was almost
blindingly white, and he left a funny looking trail of hand prints and tail
drag as he moved towards the lagoon. There were still few guests on the beach
this early, and most were far enough away that they failed to notice him
crawling across the sand.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Small waves slipped up and back on
the shore, making little noise in the barest breeze that blew that morning. His
hands contacted the water first, and the warmth seemed even more luxurious than
he had imagined it would feel. He proceeded in with no further hesitation,
happy to feel the buoyant support of sea water all around him again. When he no
longer had contact with the bottom, he gave a gentle kick of his tail, and
moved towards the deeper water with effortless grace.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The water was incredibly clear, and
he marveled at just how far he could see ahead and around him. Small fish
darted away at his approach, many ducking for the crevices of rocks and coral
to hide. He continued out until the water was some thirty feet deep below him,
and dove to skim along an extended outcropping of coral that jutted some ten
feet from the bottom. Larger fish prowled around the reef, and while they tended
to give him a wide berth, they weren’t as prone to fleeing from him as the
smaller fish in the shallows had been.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Although the colors faded the deeper
he went, he was still amazed at how vibrant the sea life was in the lagoon. The
fish around their island back home were so drab by comparison, though he had to
consider that their primary interest in the fauna around the island for so many
years had been for food. They hadn’t really cared that much about whether the
fish they caught had been pretty. They only cared that it was edible, and
valuable to stave off hunger.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He started a slow ascent, exhaling
through his nose as he approached the surface. Poking his head above the water
just enough, he drew in a deep breath before turning to descend again for the
reef.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The gradual changing of the angle of
sunlight penetrating the water was his only indication of the passage of time,
and he decided it was something he needn’t worry about. There was nowhere he
needed to be at any specific time. He could return to his bungalow when he
finally felt hungry, and order food to be brought to him, regardless of the
time of day. For the moment, it was a serene experience to just explore the
reef.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
The sound of other swimmers carried
to him through the water, but the splashing and occasional human voice sounds
were distant. He suspected that few of the resort guests would venture so far
out or so deep in the lagoon, and he was fine with being alone over the
branches of coral.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He drifted slowly, just a foot or so
from the reef, about three-quarters of a way to the top. A brightly colored
shape caught his attention, and he flipped around for a closer look. The shrimp
watched him with claws raised, but it seemed fine with holding its position.
Reluctant to spook it, Timothy likewise held his position, keeping what he felt
was a respectful distance with just gentle movement of his hands and tail.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
A flash went off behind him,
startling the shrimp into retreating deep within the recesses of the coral.
Timothy spun around. A female snorkeler gave him a wave and an “okay” sign with
her free hand, the camera held conspicuously in her other. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
Looking up, she swam towards the
surface, with the yellow dive fins fluttering at the end of her legs. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He looked back to where the shrimp
had been, and there was no sign that it was going to emerge again anytime soon.
With a feeling of annoyance, he sped after the girl, surfacing almost at the
same time she did. His face had barely cleared the water before he was
speaking. “What are you doing? You could have at least waited until I was done
looking at the shrimp before taking a picture of it!”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She spit the snorkel from her mouth,
and flipped her head back to get the hair from in front of her mask. “What
shrimp? I was taking a picture of you.” She gave him a mischievous smile, and
slipped the mask from her face to hang around her neck. “Well, unless you
consider yourself a shrimp, in which case, I have to ask just how big a merman
has to be before he’s considered normal size.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He stared into her eyes, and found
himself struck by just how pale blue they were, and how full of life and
wonder. “I, uh, I - ” he stammered, and felt a sudden flush run through his
skin.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Wait – you’re blushing,” she said.
Her look turned to dread. “Oh – you don’t think I meant - ?” It was her turn to
blush. “Oh, no, no, no. I meant your overall size, you know, like head to toe,
I mean tail, I mean - ”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
His annoyance vanished, replaced by
amusement. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. I was just looking at a shrimp
down there on the reef, and your flash scared it into hiding.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t
know. I saw you down there, and I’d never seen one of the Pod before so close,
so I wanted a picture. It’s kind of hard, underwater, to ask first, and I was
afraid if I waited a moment, you’d move off somewhere else, and I wouldn’t be
able to find you again. We could try to find another shrimp.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“It’s all right. I’ve got a whole
week, and I think I’m going to see a lot of things out here that will make that
one shrimp seem rather mundane.” He looked past her, and took note of just how
far from the shore he had gone. “Are you out here by yourself? You really
should have someone with you when you’re swimming this far from shore.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Nope, just me. My friend Jenny was
supposed to come swimming with me, but her boyfriend surprised her by coming
along at the last minute, and she decided to stay in our bungalow with him this
morning. I feel compelled, though, to ask where your swim buddy is. You’re just
as far out as I am.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“This swim is nothing for me. I’ve
gone much farther many times, especially back when we had to forage around our
island for food.” <i>At least, I was alone,
if you don’t count dolphins swimming with me. </i>“This is a long swim for
someone like you.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Just what kind of someone am I, that this is a long swim?”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“You have legs,” he said.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“Thank you for noticing. I am rather
attached to them, even if they are standard equipment for most of us.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“I mean, you’re a normal human, made
for walking on land. Swimming like this is something I’ve done my whole life.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She laughed. “I don’t get accused of
being normal very often, and never before by a merman. How do you know it’s not
something I’ve done my whole life?” she asked. “Normal humans swim, too, you
know, and even some not-so-normal ones like me. Many of us are actually quite
good at it.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
“The best normal human swimmer I’ve
ever seen is Josh and Marta’s son, and he’s been swimming with the Pod since
before he could even walk. He’s still just a child, and I think he would give
your best Olympic swimmers some real competition. Even then, he’s still nowhere
near the swimmer any of us are.”</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
She poked him gently in the center
of his chest. “I’ve been swimming for as long as I can remember, and started
competing at ten years old. I swam competitively through high school and
college, and still swim laps a couple of hours almost every day, going a lot
farther than this without fins. I may not be able to swim as fast or as far as
you can, but don’t think that, just because I’m not a mermaid, I’m not
comfortable and competent in the water. Now, if you think it’s that important
that I have a buddy as I swim around out here, then either put up or shut up.
I’m going to do some sightseeing on the reef. You can either be my swim buddy,
and I’ll be yours, or we can go our separate ways, and I’ll hope to see you
around somewhere else, later.” She placed the mask over her face again, and
wiggled it around a bit before releasing it. With the snorkel in her hand, she
said, “Well?” and then dove without waiting for an answer.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He watched her swim away. <i>Well, she got one thing right – normal is
not a term that fits her well. Weird might be a better choice.</i> She didn’t
bother looking back as she drew closer to the reef, and he found that all he
could think about was those pale blue eyes. With a low leap, he dove after her.
<i>Then again, who am I to criticize anyone
for being weird?</i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
When he caught up with her, she
rolled over to swim facing up, and took another picture of him. There was a
satisfied look in her eyes, as though she’d known all along what his choice
would be, and was enjoying the vindication of being correct.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
He had to admit, her ability to stay
under did seem a lot longer than most of the land-dwellers that visited the
Pod, and she appeared very confident in her use of the snorkeling gear. When
she headed for the surface to breathe, she did so at an easy pace, and not in
the hurried manner so many people did, as though they were ready to drown if they
didn’t get a breath right that moment. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
If he held his hand to block the
view of her below the waist, Timothy could easily imagine that she had a tail
instead of legs. </div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-9203534891272873472013-08-09T17:40:00.000-07:002013-08-09T17:40:10.509-07:00Friday Fiction for August 9, 2013
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Friday Fiction is hosted this week by Vonnie, over at <a href="http://mybackdoorministry.blogspot.com/2013/08/friday-fiction.html" target="_blank">My Back Door</a>. Be
sure to visit, and if you have some fiction to share, feel free to jump in!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When I was in High School, I went through a phase of reading books by
Edgar Rice Burroughs, including many of the Tarzan stories. They were pulp
fiction – outrageous stories even for their day, but they were imaginative and
fun. They offered adventures far removed from the urban jungles we’ve built for
ourselves, and a hero that seemed to embody the best of both animal and human. When
the Faithwriters Challenge topic of “Africa” came up, my mind harkened back to
those stories, and I wrote this short scene. It didn’t place, but I still
enjoyed writing it, and I think it’s just a fun piece. I hope you enjoy it.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: 16pt;">The Face of Africa<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Topic: <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Challenge entry; week of 5 March 2009<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
old man leaned on the walker, making faster progress down the ramp than I
expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He flashed a wrinkled smile
beneath blue eyes that twinkled with mischief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I met him at the base of the ramp, and he reached a hand for mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His grip was deceptively strong.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Is
it really you?” I asked.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Now,
that’s a silly question, isn’t it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course it’s me; who else would I be?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Releasing my hand, he turned away from the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s walk, shall we?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Should
you be out here like this?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
posh; if I’m the person you came here to meet, then you should ask if I really
belong in there.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He withdrew the letter
I’d sent from his shirt pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I used
to get letters like this all the time, but not much anymore.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
must confess, I’m a bit surprised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
didn’t expect to see you in a cotton shirt and twill slacks.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m over a hundred years
old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t want to see me in nothing
but a loincloth now.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We
stopped at the trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m just happy
you’re still alive to meet, sir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From
the first time I read the books about you, you became the face of <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
dad said you were the face of <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> to his
entire generation.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Funny,
that, really, since I’m English.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
patted my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t put much stock in
those stories, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could have
done even half of what they said, I’d never need this home or a nurse.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The
stories captured our imagination; even Jane Goodall cited them as inspiration
for her life’s work.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He nodded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know, but I have a confession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not me that caught so many people’s
imaginations; it was this land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the
stories about me had taken place in the swamps of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Louisiana</st1:place></st1:state>, or the Canadian Rockies, or even
the Amazon rainforest, they wouldn’t have made the same impact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place>,
though, still draws us in with possibilities to be explored.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
might have a point there.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of
course, I do; I’ve had a long time to think about these things, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look around you; this land has been known
since before <st1:country-region w:st="on">Egypt</st1:country-region> was
mentioned in Genesis, but say ‘<st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place>’ to the
average chap, and he won’t think of modern cities and agriculture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’ll think of jungles and the
Serengeti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’ll see Kilimanjaro and the
<st1:place w:st="on">Sahara</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To most people, <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> is synonymous
with wild and untamed.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
right; most people I know could name more wild features about <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place>
than countries here.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
can even tell you why you came here.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
thought it was to meet you.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
didn’t come here to meet an old man; you came here to meet yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re here because – like most people – you
have a deep awareness that humanity has lost something, and you saw traces of
that in the stories about me.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What
have we lost?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We’ve
lost our purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, God created
man to reach between the physical and the spiritual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are grounded to the Earth, with hands to
reach towards Heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are flesh like
animals, and spirit like God.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We
haven’t lost that.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His
gaze was penetrating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Modern man has
insulated himself from both sides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
have pavement and shoes isolating us from the Earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We build roofs over our heads to shield us
from the sky, and hide from Heaven behind our science.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our food arrives in plastic packages, and our
salvation in pill bottles.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He touched a
hand reverently to a tree trunk. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You
saw me as the face of Africa not because I lived here, but because I lived <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved
with the land and the trees and the animals, and reminded you of what man could
be if freed of society’s expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When a man is that close to the Earth as God made it, that spark of the
Holy in him becomes more obvious.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Mr.
Clayton,” the nurse interrupted from behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“You know you’re not supposed to wander away like this.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
winked at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They’re afraid I’ll die
in the jungle.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Uh
huh,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Then I’d have to
explain to the Greystoke Estate what happened to you.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
put his hand on my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Stay here;
stand barefoot and see if the spiritual becomes more obvious to you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned back to the house, and added, “See,
then, if you find your mirror holds the face of <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place>.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-87870076046901550162013-08-01T22:22:00.000-07:002013-08-01T22:22:26.455-07:00Friday Fiction For August 2, 2013
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Wow. It’s hard to believe it’s been over a
year since I’ve posted for Friday Fiction. Many thanks to Sara for getting it
going again, and for hosting this first week back over on her blog, <a href="http://fictionfusion.blogspot.com/2013/08/enchanted-friday-fiction.html" target="_blank">Fiction Fusion</a>. Be sure to check over there for the Linky widget and the list of other
Friday Fiction participants this week.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span></o:p></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Last year, I had planned to sit out
NaNoWriMo. I didn’t worry about outlining anything, nor even had a story in
mind. On October 31<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup>, though, both my wife and my son told me I had
to do it – I’d done it every year since first learning about it, and I shouldn’t
miss it. That left me with a quandary; what to write? With only a few hours
left until the start of NaNoWriMo, I didn’t even have an idea I’d been toying
with, let alone one that had been worked out enough to develop into a
novel-length story. <br />
<br />
I decided to take the short story I’d written for Friday Fiction back in early
2010, “Reef, Her Madness,” and rewrite it into a full-length novel. Taking it
from a short story to a novel allowed me to flesh out many of the scenes,
giving a different POV, and filling in a lot of details. It also allowed me to
rewrite and finish the incomplete short, “Mermaid Weekend,” as part of the
novel. In essence, I used the short stories as the basic outline, and came up
with a new novel called, “Chasing the Sharks.”<br />
<br />
The background on this excerpt chapter is that Timothy, one of the members of
the Pod, has gone on a solo vacation to a small Caribbean island resort called
Caruso Lagoon. There, he meets Theresa, who has also come to the resort with
her long-time friend Jenny. However, Jenny’s boyfriend, Dirk, unexpectedly tags
along. Earlier this day, Theresa returned to their bungalow to overhear Jenny
and Dirk arguing, and somehow, it apparently involved her.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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</div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: large;">Chapter
12</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;">From “Chasing the Sharks”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her bungalow was dark and quiet when
she returned. She entered carefully, not wanting to make any noise that might
betray her arrival. There was no sound from Jenny’s bedroom, and no light
showing under the door. She had no indication whether the two had made up and
just gone to bed, or whether one or both of them had gone to the lounge to cool
down with a drink or two.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh,
please, God, don’t let either of them come back drunk. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Theresa tiptoed to her bedroom,
easing the door open and slipping inside. If either Jenny or Dirk were in the
other room, she did not want to disturb them, just in case the mood was still
lingering. She set the privacy lock on the door, and changed into her pajamas
in the dark. When there was no sound from the rest of the bungalow, she
released a relieved sigh, and slipped into bed.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Lying there in the dark, she felt
cheated. She had spent a magical day at the resort, swimming with Timothy
around the reef, and then visiting with him in the evening. She knew people who
would have paid a king’s ransom to have the chance to spend a day like that,
and she wanted to share the details with her best friend. Such good news always
begged to be told, but the only person at the resort, besides Timothy, that she
could tell was possibly still angry at her for some unknown reason.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sleep proved elusive. Despite being
tired, she remained wide-awake for a long time. She tried different positions
in the bed, hoping to get more comfortable, and hence make it easier to fall
asleep. While she didn’t like drugs, if there had been sleeping pills
convenient, she would have found them tempting. She was pretty sure she could
guess what Jenny might suggest as well, and rejected that idea also. Her mother
tended to assign deeper meanings to sleeplessness. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When you can’t sleep, it means God has something He wants you to pray
about.</i> She shared her mother’s faith in God, but didn’t quite understand
why God would need anyone to pray about something. It wasn’t like He needed
people to ask before He could work, was it?</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe
it’s not so much that He needs me to pray about it, </i>she considered. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe He’s trying to tell me that I need to
pray about it. That makes more sense, I suppose. But what am I supposed to pray
about? Jenny? Dirk? Jenny and Dirk? Timothy? Something else?</i> Her mother
always made it seem so simple to know what needed prayed about, and she
wondered if she would develop more discernment about such things as she got
older.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Staring up at the barely visible
ceiling, she sorted through her thoughts. She had never gotten much into the
idea of kneeling beside the bed to pray, and couldn’t quite figure out why
people thought that was a better position for prayer than any other position. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Father, I’m so confused. I don’t know why
Jenny is mad at me. I have no idea what I might have done, so I don’t even know
how to proceed. If I’d done something wrong, I would apologize and ask her forgiveness,
but how do I ask forgiveness when I don’t know what I’ve done? She was so
angry, I don’t even know if she would forgive me now, for whatever it was.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She’s
been my friend for so long, Lord. I can’t imagine losing her friendship.
Please, help me to get things right with her again.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Am
I supposed to pray about Timothy, Father? We just met, and I’m not sure how I
should pray for him. I guess You know, though, so whatever his needs or
concerns, I’ll leave it to You.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Father,
forgive me, but I don’t want to pray for Dirk. I don’t like him. I think he’s
bad for Jenny, and there are times that he scares me. I don’t trust him in so
many ways, and all I can think is that it would be better if he just went
somewhere far away from both Jenny and me.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
guess, though, that You loved Dirk enough to send Your Son to die for him, too,
didn’t you? Is he here so that maybe I can share that with him? I don’t know if
I can. All these years, and I’ve never really been able to get Jenny to listen.
If I can’t get my best friend to listen, how am I going to get someone like
Dirk to listen?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
have to confess, Lord. I’m jealous. I’m jealous that this was supposed to be a
weekend for Jenny and I to spend together, and instead, Dirk has horned in and
he’s getting all the time with my friend. It’s not fair, Lord. He gets to spend
time with her back home all the time, since we don’t live that close to each
other anymore. Why couldn’t he let her have one week away with me?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’m
complaining, aren’t I, Lord? Forgive me. I should be focusing on the blessings
You’ve given me, instead of something so petty as being jealous. You managed to
orchestrate fulfilling something I’ve dreamed about ever since the Pod went
public, and I’m still amazed that it happened. You brought me to such a beautiful
place, and let me see it with Timothy. Thank You, Lord. Not only that, but I
get to go swimming with him again tomorrow night.</i> She closed her eyes and
smiled at the thought, and before she could formulate another sentence, drifted
off to sleep.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-89358636233567400452013-04-10T20:54:00.002-07:002013-04-10T20:54:37.643-07:00Cardan's Pod Preview<span lang="ZH">I currently have a Kickstarter Project running to get the second book in the Pod series, <em>Marta's Pod,</em> edited and published. In order to let people get a feel for the Pod stories, I decided to post the first three chapters of <em>Cardan's Pod</em> here, for potential backers to preview. My Kickstarter is running until May 3rd, 2013, with a goal of $2500. You can find my Kickstarter <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1646930491/martas-pod" target="_blank">here</a>.<br /><br />If you're new to the blog, feel free to visit the archives, where I have excerpts from most of my novels, along with short stories and even a few Ponderings. Thanks for visiting, and I hope you enjoy your stay.</span><br />
<span lang="ZH"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="ZH"><em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Cardan's Pod</span></em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="ZH"><em>by Rick Higginson</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="ZH"></span></span></b> </div>
<div align="CENTER">
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Chapter 1</strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
I am counted with those who go down to the pit;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am like a man who has no strength,</div>
<div align="CENTER">
Adrift among the dead,</div>
<div align="CENTER">
Like the slain who lie in the grave,</div>
<div align="CENTER">
Whom You remember no more,</div>
<div align="CENTER">
And who are cut off from Your hand.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
Psalm 88:4,5</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Joshua Cardan teetered on the deck of the sailboat, fighting to keep his eyes open as he drifted in and out of awareness. His attention wandered to the bottle dangling from his left hand, and he tried to remember if he had really consumed that much of the liquor. Having only been drunk once before in his life, he could not grasp what would have motivated him to repeat the unpleasant experience. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
A pair of hands held tight to his arms, keeping him balanced. Turning toward the face at his shoulder, Josh focused sluggish eyes enough to recognize his wife, Cynthia, beside him.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Hullo, dear," he slurred with a laugh, finding the statement unusually witty.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
When she didn’t answer him, his mind wandered to the open ocean off the side of the boat. He didn’t remember setting sail, but since none of the marina’s other boats were beside his, he decided he must have done so. Looking at the glass in his right hand, with the remnant of liquid in the bottom, he found it odd, since he never drank when sailing.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Hurry up," his wife hissed. Though she stood right next to him, her voice sounded far away. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
His inebriated mind worked over that conundrum for a moment, until Cynthia stepped away, leaving him swaying. He was about to ask her why he needed to hurry, when his eye was caught by a motion on the other side. For a fraction of a second, Joshua’s trained sailing instincts cleared his mind enough to alert him to the impending collision between the mainsail and his body. He tried to duck beneath it but, slowed by his drunken condition, succeeded only in placing his head in line with the oncoming boom.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The alcohol did little to numb the pain of the impact on his skull or the wrenching feeling in his chest as he flipped over the lifeline. Landing flat in the cold water, Josh gasped in surprise and gulped a mouthful of brine. He bobbed back to the surface, coughing and spitting while a wave of pain-induced nausea swept over him. The salt burned the fresh wound on his forehead, and his fingers were streaked with diluted blood when he wiped his eyes.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
With his wits somewhat restored after the dunking, and despite the pain, he searched around him for the boat, only to spot the dark craft moving away on the gentle breeze. Over the sound of the waves, Cynthia’s laughter reached his ears.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
‘<i>Laughter?</i>’ He strained to focus, though the effort sent new pulses of pain throbbing through his head. In the moonlight, he could see her figure silhouetted against another in a passionate embrace on the deck, before the two climbed into a small inflatable tied to the stern.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
In a brief moment of clarity, Joshua realized he was witnessing his own murder. Feeling stupid, and struck by the irony of figuring it out much too late, he tried to swim for the boat, but with arms and legs that felt too heavy to move, he managed only a few feeble strokes.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
With the abrupt growl of the outboard motor, the inflatable pulled away, leaving his body for the sea to claim. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
His best friend had tried to warn him about Cynthia, but he had not wanted to hear it. ‘Good advice is so much easier to recognize when it’s too late to receive it,’ he thought, as his soaked clothing and shoes weighed him down. Looking back at the surface, just out of reach, Josh couldn’t muster the strength to even tread water. As he sank deeper, the sensations of the world he knew were replaced by the eerie noises of the ocean, twisted by the memory of Cynthia’s laughter.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
His last thoughts were of apologies that would remain unspoken, before he slipped into unconsciousness.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Lt. Franks of the Coast Guard surveyed the deck of the sailboat. The nearly empty liquor bottle and glass told him much of what he needed to know, especially when coupled with the traces of blood and skin found on the unsecured boom.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em></em> </div>
<i>‘No matter how many times we tell them alcohol and boats don’t mix, too many of these fools don’t take it to heart.’ </i>Franks released an exasperated snort with the thought. He didn’t want to think about how much of his time in the Coast Guard had been spent cleaning up the aftermath of that deadly combination. Even the warm mid-morning sun did little to brighten the dark mood that had descended on him.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Sir?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The lieutenant’s thoughts were interrupted by the voice of one of his crewmen. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I think you should see this, sir. It’s on the table in the cabin." <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He followed the recruit to the undisturbed scene, where an open and almost empty bottle of pills rested in a cup holder. Franks bent down to read the label, careful not to touch anything. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Sedatives," he noted, shaking his head in disgust at the implications. "It will all have to be recorded before we can do much more here." <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
After viewing the scene, the lieutenant didn’t hold much hope for success for his colleagues out searching for the missing sailor. If anything was worse than mixing drugs, alcohol and boats, it was mixing drugs, alcohol and swimming. Everything he saw told Franks they would be lucky if they managed to find the body. It would be a miracle to find a survivor.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Cynthia Cardan took her time walking to the door to answer the insistent knock, irritated that Josh had never agreed to hire servants for the household duties. <i>‘A wealthy household should have a full-time maid, not a once-a-week service,’ </i>she thought as she opened the door. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The deputy sheriff on the porch looked up from his clipboard. "Good afternoon, ma’am," he said. "I apologize for the intrusion, but is this the Cardan residence?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I’m Cynthia Cardan," she said. "Is there a problem?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I hope not, ma’am. Is Joshua Cardan at home?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"No, he’s not. This time of day he’s normally at his office. Have you tried there?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Yes, ma’am. They suggested we look here. He’s not been in nor called his office today. Did he leave here this morning to go to work?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Actually, no. He, uh, wasn’t here last night."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"When was the last time you saw him?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Yesterday evening. My husband and I, well, we fought at dinner last night, and he went to spend the night on his sailboat."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"You haven’t heard from him since?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"No. Why?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I’m sorry to tell you this, ma’am, but your husband’s sailboat was found adrift this morning by the Coast Guard."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
She leaned against the doorframe for support and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, no; is he all right?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Mrs. Cardan, no one was on board when the Coast Guard found the boat. They’re conducting a search, but so far we have no word on your husband’s whereabouts. We’d hoped to find him at either his office or here, and that maybe the boat had been stolen and our missing person is just a thief who abandoned the vessel. Are you certain he made it to his boat last night?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Cynthia slumped toward the floor, accepting the deputy’s assistance to a chair. "I don’t know," she replied. "Is his car at the marina? He drives a red ‘69 Datsun 2000 Roadster."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Which marina?" he asked. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
She told him, and he relayed the information to the dispatcher. "They’ll send someone to check the parking lot. Are you going to be all right, Mrs. Cardan? Can I call someone to come and stay with you?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
She shook her head and made a helpless gesture with one hand. "I’ll be fine." Then, looking up with wet eyes, she added, "You will let me know if you find anything, won’t you?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Yes, ma’am. You’ll be the first person we tell." <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He stayed with her a while longer, and asked for a list of other places they might look for the missing man. Cynthia complied with some names and locations, all of which the deputy took dutiful note. Then, after again asking if she would be all right, he left.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Listening until she heard the car leave the driveway, Cynthia dried her eyes and retrieved a glass of wine from the dining room before retiring to the bedroom to watch television.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He awoke in darkness, surrounded by cool, damp air and with the presence of a warm body against his back. His head still throbbed, and when he reached up to feel the knot on his brow he brushed against several days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He recalled waking up a few times before, but couldn’t be sure what memories were real, and what had been dreams. Lying quietly, he took stock of what he could tell for certain. He was not dead because, he reasoned, heaven would feel much better than this, and hell much worse. His clothes were gone, and his naked body ached from his injuries. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Sorting through the blurry recollections that came to mind, he tried to place them in order. He knew he was Joshua Cardan, the heir of the Cardan Pharmaceutical Corporation and the principal stockholder in the company. He remembered arguing with Cynthia over dinner; an occurrence which had become much too frequent in their year of marriage. After the argument, he had driven to the marina, where he had poured himself a drink on his boat, as was his usual habit for such cool down times. It had tasted a little odd, but he had dismissed that as the remnants of that night’s dinner. He remembered little more until the memory of the boom coming at him, then the shock of the cold water and the final insult of seeing Cynthia embracing the stranger as the boat drifted away.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He puzzled over his current situation--lying naked in a strange location, warmed by the presence of another person behind him. He felt bare breasts against his back, indicating his companion was female, and he recalled the other times he had drifted in and out of consciousness, someone, whether her or another person, had been always beside him. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The arm wrapped around him was strongly muscled, and based on how her torso matched up with his, Josh surmised she was heavyset. Her breathing was slow and paced, with the occasional deep inhalation of someone asleep. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He knew he was not in a hospital. While he avoided hospitals whenever possible, he would have recognized the various noises associated with them. Besides, no medical center he’d ever heard of used topless women to keep patients warm, nor did they tend to place their patients on smooth rock. The patient bed he had once occupied had been hard, but not nearly as unyielding as what was beneath him now. The hospital had never been dark, either, even at night. Wherever he was, his eyes had so little light they could not see his arm, mere inches from his face, pillowing his head. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The only logical conclusion he could reach was that he had been found by a homeless woman and brought to her camp. He’d been around some homeless people before that had reeked of stale sweat and human waste, but was relieved that he detected none of that close to him. Instead, he smelled algae and seawater, and it reminded him of the time he and his dad had explored some tide pools when he was a boy. Sniffing again, he noticed a trace of his own sweat more than any odor coming from his companion.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Cautiously, he reached behind to feel her side. What his fingers encountered was not shaped like the hip he expected to find, and while the surface was warm like skin, it was unlike any he’d ever touched before. He wondered if she might be wearing some kind of strange bodysuit, and traced his fingers upward to see if he could find a waistband or something similar. While he found a transition above to what felt like normal skin, and below to an odd texture, he could detect no separation in the continuity between the two. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
As he moved his fingers back and forth, trying to visualize what he was feeling, his companion stirred, sighing contentedly at his touch and shifting position until he could feel something against his feet. His heart pounded at the realization that what rested against his heels weren’t her legs, and he wondered for the first time if he was suffering from a delusional state.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
His mind insisted it was not possible; he had to be mistaken in what he felt. Still, he rubbed his foot against whatever it was behind him. Whether he was delusional or not, he could not mistake the shape of the dolphin-like fluke his foot found. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Through a mélange of disbelief, panic, and fascination, one clear thought surfaced.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He was being held by a mermaid.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Chapter 2</strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
The pangs of death encompassed me,</div>
<div align="CENTER">
And the floods of ungodliness made me afraid.</div>
<div align="CENTER">
The sorrows of Sheol surrounded me;</div>
<div align="CENTER">
The snares of death confronted me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
Psalm 88:4,5</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i></i><br /></div>
<i>He was being held by a mermaid.</i><br />
<em></em><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Part of his mind protested that it was impossible; mermaids did not exist. They were the fabrication of sailors, either mistaking some other sea creature for a beautiful, half-woman siren, or else the erotic fantasies born out of too many months at sea.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Another part of his mind pointed out the obvious: a person could hold onto a myth, but a myth could not hold onto a person. At his back lay the torso of a woman, warm and breathing and holding him close. At his legs, the tail and fluke normally associated with a dolphin or porpoise. Not half-woman, half-fish, he noted, but half-woman, half-dolphin. Even in the dark, he knew only one creature occupied the space behind him.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Joshua remained quiet while he thought, afraid of what might happen if he disturbed his companion. He could conceive of only two logical possibilities for his situation. Either he really was being held by a mermaid or by an elaborate hoax. He wondered if Cynthia had set him up for some horrible joke. Or, he considered, maybe it was one of those stupid T.V. shows. It made no sense, though, for there were too many opportunities for something to have gone wrong, with too many variables to orchestrate, and no way to have predicted how each would turn out. No; he couldn’t imagine any T.V. crew would have risked the liability issues it presented.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em></em> </div>
<i>‘Maybe I’m hallucinating,’ </i>he thought. He had been drugged and suffered a head injury, so it would not be unreasonable for him to have delusions. Josh weighed whether being crazy was preferable to mermaids being real. He was certain his thoughts were clear, without the disjointed quality that dreams had, while his perception remained consistent and linear. <i>‘Perhaps that’s what makes delusions so powerful,’ </i>he considered. <i>‘They seem completely real to the person experiencing them.’</i><br />
<br />
He stopped the mental debate when he heard water being disturbed. A soft splash, as of someone getting out of a pool, sounded somewhere behind him, followed by a heavy flopping noise.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Is he awake yet?" a feminine voice asked.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The arm around him withdrew, and his companion rolled away. "He’s stirred a few times more, and I awoke to him actually touching me. I’m not sure if he has really awakened though."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I’m worried; perhaps his injuries were worse than you thought. Maybe we should have taken him where people would have found him."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Where? Dr. Marcel chose this place because no one comes here and it would be easier for us to hide."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Are we to keep him here hidden with us?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong, but when I saw what happened to him, I couldn’t let him drown."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"The Pod still isn’t happy about it, but we’ll worry about that later. You need to eat. I’ll stay here and keep him warm for a while."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"How was the foraging today? Is there enough?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Nothing but fish, but everyone managed to make up for you being here instead of out looking for food. You know they’re unhappy about that, too."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I know; I just don’t know what else to do."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Go and eat. You’re going to be more trouble if you make yourself as sick as he is. Then we’d need someone to take care of you, as well as someone to take over caring for him."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I won’t be long."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He heard more of the flopping sound, as his companion moved across the rock. They obviously did not have legs, and in his mind he pictured how they might be moving. Could they bend their tails up underneath them and waddle like a sea lion or walrus would? <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The newcomer plopped down behind him, scooting herself closer. She seemed taller than the other, though no less stout in build. He thought about all the depictions of mermaids he had seen, and it made no sense for them to have fish tails and thin "fashion model" torsos. They would be marine mammals, he reasoned, and like their sea mammal cousins, they would have strong muscles for swimming, with sufficient fat to insulate them from the cold water.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
What of the Dr. Marcel they had mentioned? Did they have their own doctors in their society, or was Dr. Marcel human? He was inclined to think the latter, as their English was too contemporary. They had to have been exposed to modern language through a human contact. How had they stayed hidden from scientific scrutiny for so long? Or had they not stayed hidden, and that was who Dr. Marcel was?<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Of two things he was certain, though. He had been cared for by at least two mermaids, and they spoke of others. If they wanted to hurt him, they would have had ample opportunity while he was still unconscious. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Despite his questions and doubts, he felt no reason to be afraid of them. He turned his attention to the second thing, which was that he could not wait much longer to empty his bladder. If he did not find where he was supposed to take care of such business, he was going to end up doing so right where he lay.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
His mental assurances did little to alleviate his trepidation as he rolled away from his spot. The effort produced an involuntary groan as his muscles protested after the prolonged inactivity, while the knot on his head throbbed anew from the exertion. He pushed himself up onto hands and knees, again groaning from the soreness the movement exacerbated.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"You’re awake?" his current caretaker asked. He thought he detected a hint of panic in the voice.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I’ve been awake," he said through his dry throat. "I need to--"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He hadn’t finished speaking when he heard her moving away from him and, before he could interrupt her progress, heard the splash as she hit the water. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em></em> </div>
<i>‘So much for asking where the bathroom is,’ </i>he thought.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He groped about in the darkness with his hands, trying to determine where he was in relation to anything else around him. Moving slowly, not just from caution but because his body still refused to move any faster, he found a vertical surface and explored it with his hands, a bit fearful of what he might find. Were there spiders that lived in absolute darkness?<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The vertical formation appeared to be nothing more than a large stone in the rock floor, without anything that would indicate it was special. With little other choice, he decided it would have to do. While still on his knees, he steadied himself with his hands against the stone and took care of the most demanding need he had. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<i>‘Man,’ </i>he thought. <i>‘Who would have imagined taking a leak would feel like so much work?’</i><br />
<em></em><br />
Moving to the uphill side of the stone, he lowered himself to a sitting position with a moan. <i>‘Heaven would feel better and hell would feel worse,’ </i>he reminded himself. At that moment, though, he wasn’t sure hell would feel all that much worse.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Cynthia Cardan smirked as she watched the television news from the privacy of her bedroom. The reporter was talking about Josh’s disappearance again and how the Coast Guard had suspended the search for the missing pharmaceutical tycoon. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i></i><br /></div>
<i>‘Too bad,’ </i>she thought, as finding his body would have been ideal. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
She expected the phone to ring any moment as one friend or another reacted to the news report. She had already turned off the ringer on the bedroom phone, and although she would be able to hear the downstairs phone, she planned to ignore it and listen to the messages later.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Many of her friends and acquaintances already treated her like a bereaved widow, and she intended to strike a perfect balance between sad and sexy in the black wardrobe she selected from the fashion magazines on her bed. She already had a very special black outfit on order from a certain designer, especially for Lonnie when he came over to comfort her. <em>‘Not too soon, though</em>,’ she thought. If she was seen moving too quickly into a new relationship, it could arouse suspicions, and she had spent far too much effort cultivating her marriage to the Cardan heir to have the final goal snatched from her by rushing.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
In a way, she did feel sadness at losing Josh. He had been something of an old school romantic, although far too trusting for his own good. If she had not gotten to him first, some other woman would have reeled him in and cleaned him out. She just made it as painless for him as she could, instead of making him go through a miserable divorce procedure.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Cynthia smiled as she admired her naked form in the full length mirror. Her mind had dreamed and planned, but it had been her body that opened the door. As the new Cardan heiress, she could feel the power of doors to which she herself now held the keys.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Lonnie Grinnell nursed an expensive German beer while watching the game on the television behind the bar. One benefit of his relationship with Cynthia was being able to afford the beverages he preferred, instead of the cheap brew his normal budget allowed. The good beer, though, failed to assuage the disgust he felt at how his team was playing. The other team scored again, and he turned away.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
A young woman at a nearby table met his eye and shook her head. "It is painful to watch, isn’t it?" she said.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He snorted. "They were already two runs down and just allowed a three-run homer. They should’a retired the pitcher two innings ago." He walked over and stood by her table.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Their bullpen’s too shallow; he’s actually a very good pitcher, but they’ve been using him too much lately." She finished her drink. "So, are you a Houston fan? I haven’t seen you in here before, and it’s unusual to find anyone who roots for someone besides the local teams."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I spent a few summers workin’ the fishing fleet out of Galveston right after high school. When I had the chance, I’d head up to Houston for the games, and I’ve been a fan ever since," he said. "Although watching ‘em play this afternoon, I wonder why."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"So what brings you so far from the Texas shore, Mister--?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Grinnell; folks mostly just call me Lonnie, though."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Cheryl," she reciprocated.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Pleased to meet’cha. I’ve been travelin’ here and there, takin’ odd jobs as they become available. I’m stayin’ at the marina down the street for a few days before I head south after more work."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"The marina, huh? You have a boat?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Yeah. She’s old and she don’t look like much, but she’s home."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I’d love to see her," she said.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He looked at her and noted the implied offer in her expression. ‘Why not,’ he thought. Cynthia didn’t have to know, and besides, she had no room to talk. Her husband had still been alive the first time she’d visited his bed.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Josh heard the water disturbed and what sounded like two bodies crawling up onto the rock. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Where are you?" his first companion asked. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
It was funny; even though he had not heard her voice all that much, he was certain it was her and not another who sounded like her.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Over here," he said, wondering if their dark vision was no better than his. Her sounds drew closer. <br />
<br />
"Be careful; there’s a puddle over here that you don’t want to get into," he added. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
She stopped near him, and he heard her sniffing. "Oh, that," she said. "We’ve washed plenty of that from beneath you since we brought you here." <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He jumped in surprise when her hand touched him out of the darkness. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"How are you feeling?" she asked.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Like I’ve been drugged, clubbed, drowned, and left on a hard rock floor for too long."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"You’ve moved around; that’s a good thing."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"I wish it felt as good as it sounds."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Do you feel up to a swim? The Pod needs to see you, and we don’t hold council in our sleeping chamber."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"How far do I have to swim? I’m an okay swimmer, but I’m really not at the top of my game right now."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"If he was an okay swimmer, he wouldn’t be here," the other mermaid said.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Shh," the first responded. "You don’t have to swim on your own," she explained, directing the statement back to him. "All you have to do is hold your breath and we’ll take you there." She traced her hand up his side and then down his arm, taking his hand and placing it on her shoulder. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He had pictured her sitting up in the dark across from him, but now that he touched her he realized she was on the floor, front side down, and propped up on one arm while she guided his hand with her other arm. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Follow me to the water," she said.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He dropped back to a hands and knees position, placing his weight on one hand while he kept his other on her shoulder to follow her. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
After losing his contact four times in the first few feet, she sighed in frustration. "Wait," she said. "Let me get just ahead of you, and then you can trace your hand along my back to get beside me again."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
When she had crawled forward a few feet until her fluke brushed against his hand, he ran his fingers up the back of her tail as he moved forward. Hesitating just below where he thought her bottom should be, he worried how she might react to his touch on her behind.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Come on," she said. "Or we’ll never get anywhere."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He resumed his progress, surprised to feel the ridge of vertebrae leading to the small of her back. He realized then why she had not been sitting near him. Unlike the classic mermaid tail that appeared to be a fish-skin suit over human hips and legs, her tail was an extension of the spine, just as a dolphin’s tail was. She had no bottom to sit on, or for him to worry about rubbing.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
They alternated moving forward until she splashed into the water ahead of him. The cold water was a shock as he followed her, but the shiver that traversed his spine was not from the temperature. The memory of Cynthia’s laughter was much more chilling than the dark pool. He heard the other mermaid slip in behind them, and a moment later she broke the surface close by his side. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Take some deep breaths," the first mermaid said. "Leanna will take your hand on one side, and I’ll take your hand on the other. When you are ready, hold your breath and we’ll tow you to the Pod. Grasp by the wrist; it’s more secure that way."<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He doubted he would ever feel ready, but followed her instructions and filled his lungs several times. "Okay," he said. He gulped in one more deep breath and held it, and then felt himself pulled beneath the surface. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The salt water stung his eyes, and he closed them tight against the onrushing current as he was pulled faster than he had ever imagined swimming. He tried counting the seconds to see how long their journey took, but became distracted when his lungs screamed for fresh air. He was on the verge of panic when his escorts turned upward, and they surfaced once again. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
When they released his hands, he rubbed the salt water from his eyes and opened them, blinking several times from the pain of having been too long dilated in the dark.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
He was in another cavern, lit by sunlight streaming through various cracks in the rocks overhead. Treading water all around him were numerous others, all watching him with suspicion. The female faces outnumbered the male, he noted, as he turned in the water to see them all. At least two dolphins swam around the group, their gray heads and dorsal fins appearing at the surface for breaths of air.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
His original companion remained by his side, while the one she had called Leanna joined the circle surrounding him. He remembered the brief conversation he’d overheard earlier. The one beside him was concerned for his safety, but what if the rest of them decided to finish what Cynthia started?<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The silence around the chamber persisted for a few long minutes until it was broken by the eldest-looking female in the group. <br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
"Well, Marta, now that he’s awake, what are we going to do with him?"<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
The question did not sound friendly.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Chapter 3</strong></span></div>
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My frame was not hidden from You,</div>
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When I was made in secret,</div>
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And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.</div>
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Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.</div>
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And in Your book they all were written,</div>
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The days fashioned for me,</div>
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When as yet there were none of them.</div>
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Psalm 139:15,16</div>
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<br />
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His companion seemed surprised by the question. "Why would you even need to ask that, Eva?"<br />
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A male voice behind him added, "Dr. Marcel told us to stay hidden!"<br />
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While a murmur of agreement erupted throughout the cavern, his companion stayed focused on the mermaid who had spoken first. In the absence of proper introductions, he accepted their names for each other as the ones he could use. Marta had to be his companion, while the eldest-appearing female must be Eva.<br />
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He reasoned Eva could not be the matriarch, as she did not look old enough to be the mother of even the youngest present; he guessed she was only in her mid-twenties. She had all the appearance of being in charge, though, for when she raised her body out of the water with strokes of her powerful tail, all the rest fell silent again. <br />
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It was the first real look Josh had of one of them, and he stared with jaw agape at her revealed form. When she had been floating in front of him, he could have taken her for any average woman. She had long, dark hair and a heavy build, much the same as many women he’d seen in his life. Her breasts were rather ordinary, far removed from the voluptuous depictions of mermaids in paintings and movies. However, the exposed gray tail, kicking just as he’d seen the dolphins do at ocean parks, dispelled any hope he might have maintained that it was all pretend. The human belly blended with the pale skin on the underside of the tail, and as he had noted when he’d touched his companion in the dark, the body had no hips. Instead, the muscular tail tapered from the human abdomen, becoming narrower side to side while remaining thicker front to back. <br />
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She gave no indication whether she cared she was naked or that he was staring at her. Neither did Marta seem to take any notice of the attention he was paying to the "standing" mermaid.<br />
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Eva settled back down and continued her questioning. "Robert’s correct, Marta. You know Dr. Marcel taught us that hiding was our best defense, and especially hiding from his kind. Now he knows we are here, how are we to correct the danger he poses to the Pod?"<br />
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Her question was met by another smattering of voices, until his companion likewise raised herself out of the water. Once silence had been restored, she settled back down, though the group did not respond as quickly to her "standing" as they had to Eva’s. <br />
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"Dr. Marcel did tell us to hide. He warned us of the terrible things that might happen to us should we be found, and we all saw the fear in his eyes when the machines first came close to our home. He taught us to stay hidden, but he also taught us of kindness and compassion. Which did he teach us to value more? Did he teach us to kill in order to stay hidden?" Marta slowly spun about, fixing each one around the perimeter with her gaze. None flinched away from meeting her eyes. "We know what might happen if we are found, but we don’t know what will happen. I can tell you what would have happened if I had not brought this one here. He would have died, and Dr. Marcel taught us that not acting to save a life when we can is no different than killing." <br />
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She completed her spin and returned her attention to the eldest female. "What of ‘his kind,’ Eva? Was not Dr. Marcel ‘his kind,’ yet we trusted him completely?"<br />
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Another murmur ran through the assembly, carrying a different tone than before.<br />
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She did not wait for the sound to die down before continuing. "How long have we waited for Dr. Marcel to come back to us? I wish he could be here to offer us his wisdom on what we should do, but Eva, you and I knew him longer than any other here. Could you hear him telling us to do anything terrible to someone, even to stay hidden?"<br />
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<i>‘I hope not,</i>’ Josh thought.<br />
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"No, Marta," Eva replied, a softness breaking through her voice. "I cannot. Yet, we still must decide what we are to do with <i>him</i>."<br />
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A young male near Eva’s side rose up slightly and blurted, "Could he find Dr. Marcel for us?" <br />
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That brought on the loudest muttering so far, and it took both Eva and Marta rising up on their tails to bring order to the assembly. When both had settled back into the water, Eva looked Josh in the eye. "Man, what is your name?"<br />
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"Joshua Cardan," he said, surprised by how timid his voice sounded.<br />
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"Is that what we are to call you, Joshua Cardan?"<br />
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"If you’d prefer, you can just call me Josh."<br />
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"What do you have to say, Josh?"<br />
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"I can say that even if I went right now and told everyone about you, I would be called crazy and no one would believe me. They would say that my head injury gave me hallucinations, and to tell you the truth, I still find all this hard to believe myself. What’s more, I could not even tell anyone where you are, because I have no idea where I am."<br />
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"What of Dr. Marcel? Could you find Dr. Marcel?"<br />
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"I don’t know. I’m not sure where I would start to look for him. I’m not even sure where my clothes are."<br />
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Marta leaned over to him. "Your clothes were making you sink. I removed them from you to make it easier to bring you here."<br />
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"You didn’t save them, did you?"<br />
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"I was more interested in saving you."<br />
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Eva tolerated their muted exchange for the moment, before returning to the subject at hand. "Dr. Marcel has a small chamber of his own here, but we cannot reach it. I fear to ask, though; can we trust you, Joshua Cardan?"<br />
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"I owe you my life. I don’t know what more I could offer to gain your trust," he said. "For what it’s worth, I only trust you because I haven’t much choice."<br />
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Stoically, Eva considered his reply for a moment before responding. "I suppose none of us has much choice. Show him the way to Dr. Marcel’s chamber, Marta. Maybe he can learn something there that will tell us what has happened."<br />
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* * *</div>
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Cynthia smiled at the latest news coming across the television. A sport fisherman had snagged Josh’s pants and brought them to the surface--with the wallet still in the pocket. <br />
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Of course, she had first heard about it from a deputy, and although such evidence did not legally prove her husband was dead, the Coast Guard held out little hope of finding him alive. They were now more attentive to whether they would find his body washed ashore somewhere. <br />
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Turning off the television, she rose from the couch and stretched, feeling the first pangs of hunger. Even grieving people needed to eat, and Cynthia had never enjoyed cooking for herself. No one needed to know she was enjoying the upscale restaurant meals far more than she was letting on, so she again transformed her face to the haggard look she’d been publicly wearing since the morning she’d first received the news. Then, grabbing her purse and car keys, she stepped out the front door. Perhaps she’d eventually pursue a career in acting, she told herself. It seemed she had a knack for it.<br />
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* * *</div>
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Lonnie stood in the bright sunshine on the deck of his boat, watching with amusement as the people nearby sent disapproving looks his way. His disreputable, old, sport fishing boat floated in stark contrast to the well maintained yachts and sailboats in the crowded marina, and he knew he was regarded as "riff raff" by most of the folks there. They were likely also wondering what might have possessed the Silversteins to allow him to use their berth during their annual cruise south.<br />
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‘Let them wonder,’ he thought with a snicker. He’d worked mighty hard to secure just the right location to tie up the <em>Wicked Wanda</em> for the plan, and even Cynthia had been impressed by how he’d managed to make it happen. <br />
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Looking across the pier, and over two slips to the empty spot where Cardan’s boat, the <em>Bitter Pill</em>, usually resided, he doubted any of the disapproving people would recognize him later when he took over as captain of that vessel. The <em>Bitter Pill</em> was still moored somewhere farther up the coast, where the Coast Guard had taken it when they brought it in. <br />
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He liked the upscale marina, though, and smiled at the idea that a "low-class" working man like him would soon own a fancy sailboat among all those "high-class" people with their expensive yachts.<br />
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Cheryl sunbathed on the deck, behind him, and more than once he’d seen condemning glances sent her way. If they needed fuel for their gossip, her plans to stay the night should give them plenty. ‘<em>Talk all ya want,</em>’ he thought. ‘<em>We’ve done had a good time already, and we ain’t finished yet</em>.’<br />
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He thought it funny that the rich busybodies hadn’t been watching as close on the night he’d snuck over to the <em>Bitter Pill</em>. Then again, thinking about Cheryl, he figured he’d also rather stare at her than at a roughneck like him. Chuckling, he raised his bottle of beer toward one attentive woman, wondering who she would watch when he turned the borrowed berth back over to its owners.<br />
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The proper folks might not like him much, but he was confident that none of them could testify he’d been anywhere but on the <em>Wicked Wanda</em> that night, probably passed-out drunk on his bunk.<br />
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That is, if anyone ever thought they had a reason to ask.<br />
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* * *</div>
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Marta towed him deeper into the cavern, but they hadn’t gone far before the bottom sloped up underneath them and she stopped, indicating ahead to where a metal ladder was affixed to the cavern wall. <br />
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"We know Dr. Marcel’s chamber is up there somewhere, but we’re not built for climbing ladders."<br />
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"I’d say not," Josh said, turning to face her. "You risked a heck of a lot to save me, didn’t you?"<br />
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"I didn’t stop to think about it before I did." <br />
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"Thank you doesn’t really feel like it’s enough to say in exchange for a life."<br />
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Marta’s expression seemed a mix of both hope and dread. "This Pod is all any of us has; this is our life. If you owe us your life, as you said, then thank me by being careful with ours." <br />
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She pointed to a trickle of water flowing from a crack in the far wall. "That’s fresh water, if you need to drink."<br />
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He nodded and then proceeded up the slick rock, on hands and knees when it became too shallow to swim. <br />
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Although he wasn’t sure why, Joshua felt self-conscious with most of his body exposed in the light. It was obvious his hosts were not concerned about nudity, but then again, their genitals were safely ensconced within a fold of their flesh, exposed only when needed.<br />
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Once on dry rock, he took a few moments to feel steady again before trying to stand and walk. Instinctively, he cupped his hands in front of his groin, embarrassed that he felt shy about his body when he’d stared without hesitation at Eva’s. <br />
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Joshua headed first to the trickle of water and, once there, began to drink. It had a heavy mineral taste, but he was much too thirsty to care. <br />
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Despite the urge to keep drinking, he finally stepped away, afraid if he drank too much he would risk throwing it back up. <br />
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Putting one hand on the ladder, he looked up and tried to determine how far it went. The cavern ceiling was lower at this end, and maybe ten feet up the ladder disappeared inside an artificial shaft carved into the stone. He glanced back to where he’d left Marta. <br />
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She was floating on her back in the shallows, watching him. "I’ll be here when you return," she said. <br />
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He nodded, and gave her what he hoped was a confident smile before stepping up the first rung. As he began to climb, his muscles protested the exertion, while his stomach grumbled that he needed more than just water to consume. <br />
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He continued up until he caught the faint line of sunlight shining under a doorway. Holding tight to the ladder, he felt for the edge of the walkway he was certain was there, and upon finding it, stepped out onto it.<br />
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The door wasn’t locked, though the hinges squealed from being unused for too long in the salt air. The room beyond was small and sparsely furnished, with a twin bed, a small desk and chair, and a file cabinet filling the limited space. It was lit overhead by a skylight, though a few light fixtures punctuated the walls. Joshua switched on the nearest of these, and was surprised it still worked. The glow was that of a low voltage, battery operated system. <br />
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On the bed he found a dusty swimsuit, and though large on him, he slipped it on and pulled the drawstring tight. A pair of flip-flops rested on the floor, and again, while larger than his shoe size, he decided they’d have to do. No longer completely naked, he felt more assured as he looked about the room. <br />
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There appeared to be no other door leading out of the chamber, save for the one through which he had entered. Leaving that door open to provide some light, he walked back to the ladder and looked up. It went further into the darkness, and Joshua guessed it led to another room or, at least, to a door to the outside. <br />
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Deciding to catch his breath before another climb, Josh returned to the room. There he tried the file cabinet and found it unlocked. The cabinet contained an older laptop computer and a thick envelope of papers. He removed them both and sat them on the desk, noticing that a power cord for the laptop rested against the wall. Glancing under the desk, he saw it was an automotive type adapter modified for the DC system in the room. He connected it and attempted to turn on the computer, only to have it shut down almost immediately. Disappointed, he left it connected to the adapter, hoping the battery would charge sufficiently to let the computer power up.<br />
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He turned his attention instead to the papers in the envelope, removing the stack and setting it in front of him. Opening the top folder, he saw a corporate logo and the words "Company--Private" printed in bright red ink. <i>‘Marcel Research Laboratories,’ </i>he read. If he’d heard the name before, Josh didn’t recall where at that moment.<br />
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Turning the page, his breath caught in his throat.<br />
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In his hands he held the lab notes for a genetic engineering project.<br />
<br />
<em>Cardan's Pod, (c) 2008 by Rick Higginson</em><br />
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Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-12384015894786268272012-10-28T21:06:00.000-07:002012-10-28T21:06:34.860-07:00Ponderings for an Autumn Evening<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A friend of mine
messaged me a week or two ago with a link, and a comment that the article was
another reason why he liked being a member of his particular religion. I won’t
mention the friend’s name, nor the group he belongs to, as the purpose of this
blog post is not to come across as slamming what he believes or his group. I
mention his part in this because his message started me thinking about what I
liked about being a Christian.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I considered
this, I realized something else. I hear a lot of songs, and see a lot of
comments, regarding what is great about being a Christian, but rarely do I see
anyone mention what we don’t like about being a Christian. Frankly, there are
quite a few things I don’t like about being a Christian.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>First, being a
Christian means accepting the concept that God is sovereign. When the Law was
handed down, it was not put to a vote. God didn’t propose the various statutes,
and ask for our approval on each one. He didn’t leave it up to us to decide
what was okay and what was not okay. He gave us only one choice in the matter –
to accept that He knew what He was talking about, and to exercise the wisdom of
obeying Him, or to reject His wisdom and trust our own inclinations instead,
and endure the consequences of our foolishness. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t like
that I am responsible for how I live His Word, while I don’t have the calling
to enforce it on someone else. It’s certainly much easier to tell others how
they should live, instead of demonstrating each and every day how I am supposed
to live. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t like
that God expects things of me. There’s a popular mantra that “God loves me just
the way I am.” That’s true, but it doesn’t end there. Just as parents love
their children just the way they are from the moment the child enters the
world, so also God loves us just the way we are when we finally realize that
love. But just like the parents expect their children to grow up, God also
expects me to grow up. It’s one thing to have a child in diapers, needing to be
fed, changed, and taken complete care of when they’re an infant, but what would
we think if our children thought, “Mom and Dad love me just the way I am, so I’m
going to stay this way forever”? Would my parents have been happy changing
diapers on me when I was sixteen? Twenty five? God loves me when I’m immature
and know very little about living the Christian life the way I should, but He
doesn’t want me to stay that way. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t like
that Christianity isn’t all about me. I want a God that caters to my whims and
desires – a Heavenly Father that dotes over me and spoils me, but that isn’t
what I have. Jesus said, “If any man comes after Me, let him deny himself, take
up his cross, and follow Me.” Instead of indulging myself, I’m supposed to deny
myself. Worse yet, I’m supposed to take up my cross. Let me make this clear. I’m
not being pressed by the Roman guard to carry Jesus’ cross up the hill. I’m
carrying MY cross up the hill, and there was only one reason to do that. The
condemned were expected to carry their own cross to the place of their own
execution. Jesus is telling me that I’m supposed to follow Him to my own death.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It should go
without saying that I really don’t like that part. Instead of a God that
blesses me with long life and an abundance of good stuff, I have a God that
expects me to willingly give up my life for what I believe.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As if that wasn’t
enough assurance that this life isn’t going to be smooth sailing, Jesus also
said, “In this world you WILL have tribulation.” He didn’t say I MIGHT have it,
He said I WILL have it. I don’t see a lot of Christians joyfully claiming that
promise, and I don’t blame them. I don’t like it, and I don’t want it. I don’t
want tribulations and troubles. I want those wonderful, happy times that
Christians sing about so often. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t like
that I have to love other people, even if I don’t find them particularly
lovable or nice to be around. I don’t like that Jesus commanded me to forgive
them when they do something that hurts or offends me. I’d rather have a front
row seat to that “vengeance is Mine” part, and gloat when God strikes them for
what they did to me. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t like
that there seem to be a lot of other Christians determined to make us all look
bad, and that I get lumped with them.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Most of all, I
don’t like the fact that being a Christian isn’t something I chose because it
suited me. I wasn’t sold on all the benefits and advantages it presented. I am
a Christian because I came to the inescapable conclusion that I needed Messiah
in my life. I am a Christian because I realized that, without Him, my life was
nothing but a long series of days ending in a lonesome grave. I am a Christian
because God is Holy, and I am not, and without the sacrifice on the cross,
there would be no way I could enter into the presence of Holy God. My sin and
His holiness cannot coexist. I am a Christian not because I like it, but
because there was awareness that I was created to have fellowship with God, and
there would always be a missing piece in my life without it. What I could not
do on my own, God provided the means to accomplish. </div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am a Christian
because, when God called, I stopped to listen, and nothing was ever the same
again. I heard that it had nothing to do with what I liked, because, when it’s
boiled down to its essence, it’s all about Him. It wasn’t about what I liked,
it was all about who He loved, and He loved me enough to send His Son to die
for me.</div>
<div class="Rick" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That, my
friends, is the only reason that mattered.</div>
Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491574942132835063.post-90232500464901494742012-06-07T23:05:00.000-07:002012-06-07T23:05:01.696-07:00Friday Fiction for June 9, 2012<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Welcome
to Friday Fiction. Things have been so busy the last month or two, that I have
not had much chance to write anything lately, and hence, have been rather
scarce here as well. I’m hosting this week, though, so I need to do something.
I WILL get “Mermaid Weekend” finished and posted soon, but for this week, I
decided to not try and rush the next installment. Instead, I’m offering an
excerpt from “Marta’s Pod.”</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Bill
Williams is the FBI agent who makes his first appearance in the later part of “Cardan’s
Pod.” As “Marta’s Pod” developed as a story, so also did Bill’s character, and
he became a rather important member of the supporting cast, so to speak. This
scene, from chapter 45, is a nice look at Bill through the eyes of his wife,
Angela, away from his more official duties. I hope you enjoy getting to know
the Williams a little better.</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Please add your link to your Friday Fiction post in the Linky tool below, and accept my apologies for being gone for so long. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=148947" type="text/javascript">
</script><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Saturday
Morning</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>Angela woke early Saturday
morning.<span> </span>Sitting on the edge of the bed,
she retrieved her nightgown from where she’d tossed it on the floor the night
before.<span> </span>Shedding it in the night had not
been a romantic gesture; she’d just gotten too warm in it with Bill close
beside her.<span> </span>The man could radiate an
incredible amount of heat, and she’d found as she’d aged that her body didn’t
seem to regulate temperature as well as it once had.<span> </span>Some nights she could press herself against him
and still never feel warm enough.<span> </span>Other
nights, he could be clear across the bed and she’d roast.<span> </span>Sometimes she’d toggle between the two
extremes several times in one night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>Bill was in the process of getting
his retirement from the Bureau arranged, and until he did they spent their
weeknights apart.<span> </span>When he arrived on the
weekends he could not seem to get close enough to her as they slept, and hence
she’d spent most of the night with him snuggled up behind her.<span> </span>She’d gotten up to use the bathroom around
two that morning and shed the sweat-dampened nightgown at that time.<span> </span>Bill had stirred just enough when she crawled
back into bed to mumble an approving comment at her nudity before he dropped
back into a sound sleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>After all their years of marriage,
she still enjoyed having her husband snuggle her and very much appreciated the
fact that he still wanted to be close to her.<span>
</span>She just wished her body would make up its mind whether to be hot or
cold.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>She regarded her nightgown, and
carried it to the clothes hamper just outside the bathroom.<span> </span>It would need washed before she wore it
again.<span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>The first order of the morning was a
shower.<span> </span>It wasn’t unusual during the
week for her to spend as much as two hours in the evening soaking in the tub,
but her morning routine always included a shower.<span> </span>The hot water washed away not only the
overnight sweat, but also the remnants of sleep and helped her start the day
fully alert.<span> </span>She shampooed her hair,
then soaped up the bath puff and began scrubbing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>Bill peeked around the shower
curtain.<span> </span>“Need a back scrub?” he
offered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>“Please,” she said, handing him the
soapy puff.<span> </span>One thing she looked forward
to each weekend was getting her back scrubbed since Bill could put a decent
amount of force behind the effort.<span> </span>She
liked a solid back-scrubbing to the point where he’d sometimes suggested that
she wanted him to completely abrade her skin away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>He stepped into the shower with her
as she leaned against the wall, bracing herself with her arms.<span> </span>Even so, her body pushed forward as he
commenced the scrubbing with a significant portion of his weight placed behind
it.<span> </span>She sighed with contentment; it was
much like getting a deep massage and her back washed all in one.<span> </span>He finished with a bit of a flourish across
her bottom and handed the puff to her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>“My turn,” he said, turning around
to present his back to her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>“It’s my girlie soap,” she warned
him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>“It smells better than my manly
sweat.<span> </span>Besides, I doubt anyone will get close
enough to my back to notice that I might smell like my wife’s soap, and if they
do, so what?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>She always attempted to put as much
strength behind scrubbing his back as he did hers, yet for all the pushing she
did, he never so much as teetered forward an inch.<span> </span>“Ahh,” he breathed.<span> </span>“Oh, yeah; right there.<span> </span>I got an itchy right there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>She pulled the puff away and looked,
seeing the angry red spot on his back.<span>
</span>“You’ve been feeding mosquitoes again?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>“Probably a flea,” he said.<span> </span>“I helped Stan out on a visit to this old gal
that had a house full of dogs.<span> </span>I think
we were both itching before we got out of there.”<span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>She finished up by wrapping her arms
around him and rubbing the soapy front of her body against the back of his in a
playful motion.<span> </span>She brushed the bath
puff up across his chest as her other hand massaged the soap into his
belly.<span> </span>Despite his age, his abdomen was
still muscular and trim.<span> </span>All that truly
betrayed his years was the copious silver flecks that punctuated his jet black
hair, and that just made him look distinguished.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>Holding him as the hot water pelted
her back; she took a moment to count her blessings.<span> </span>She had a new job with a boss who was as easy
to get along with as one could wish for.<span>
</span>She had students who eagerly waited for their lessons five mornings a
week.<span> </span>She had two terrific sons who were
pursuing good educations at esteemed universities; and she had one fine looking
figure of a man who was a devoted husband, loving father, great friend, and
frankly, a dynamite lover to boot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span> </span>He’d even thought to stop on the way
to the island the night before and buy her favorite bagels and cream cheese for
their breakfast that morning.<span> </span>The coffee
maker in their room would already have clicked on automatically.<span> </span>They had a toaster for the bagels and the
cream cheese waited in the refrigerator.<span>
</span>All alone in their room, she would not even have to wait to get dressed
to enjoy breakfast.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Hoomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973191696885626922noreply@blogger.com1