I will have a FFF someday soon.

I promise.

I’m finishing up my MBA this week.  So, been a bit busy.  Also we are entering the ship cycle for the product I’ve been working on.  And I’m going to Disneyland in three weeks and China in July…

…but I’ll get something up soon.

Friday Flash Fiction: What really matters.

Just a little ditty this week.

---

The cave-in wasn’t the bad part, neither the declining air supply of my suit.  Nor my team members lying dead around me.  Not the pain from my broken leg or the laceration to my arm now sealed with emergency tape.

Some of you might think it would be the hairline crack in my facemask threatening to become a full-blown hole.  Nahhh.

The internal injuries?  I probably won’t have time to worry about those.

Double vision?  nothin’.

Broken ribs? mosquitos.

You see I got this itch in the middle of my back…

When Least Expected – Up pops some new material from Daniel Keys Moran.

If you have not read his work you are truly missing out.  He has only published a handful or so of novels but amongst them are some doozies!

My recommendation is to start with Emerald Eyes.  It reads a bit choppy in places but treat it like a prelude.  The follow up books in the series are remarkable.  The scope of the “Continuing Time” universe is daunting…but he stopped at three books.

1. Emerald Eyes
2. The Long Run
3. The Last Dancer

And then sheesh 15 years of silence as DKM went on to a different career.  During that time the first three chapters of the next novel the AI war was posted but nothing more.  And that was around 2000 or so.

Since then all hope of an actual completed novel has pretty much vanished.

Until now.

Interlude: The Crystal Wind

…can hope be rekindled.  Will we finally get to enjoy more exploits of Trent the Uncatchable?  And what exactly is the connection to the House of November and the Great Wheel of existence…

…maybe it’s just a snippet on his computer…

Heinlein – All You Zombies

Short story by Heinlein around a time travel paradox.

He had a load on, and his face showed that he despised people more than usual.

Go give it a read.

Brainstorm – How would you, Mr. Galactic Emperor, attack a solar system.

I’m working on a storyline and I have some interesting ideas about how I would attack a solar system.  I want to hear yours.

I have some basic ground rules.

1. Adhere, in general, to Einsteinian rules of the road.
1. some leeway with interstellar travel (wormholes etc.) but within the confines of the solar system nada mucho.
2. You want to conquer not obliterate.
3. You are not a god, you can’t just use all the energy of seven nearby stars to encapsulate the solar system or some other “Q” level power.
4. Assume a moderate level of human solar system colonization.
1. A couple million or more on mars.
2. some in the asteroids.
3. some further out.
5. If you take too long, we’re gonna fight back.

What would be your battle plan, how would you conquer those totally weak humans and make them your vassals.

Friday Flash Fiction – Interstellar 2

I wasn’t quite happy with the way the first version of this idea read so her it is from a personal point of view.

I’m still not totally pleased with it…but I’m too busy right now to devote any more time to it.

Verison 1: Interstellar

---

“LAURA!” he screamed at her. That seemed to break her trance finally.

“..oh Gil…I…where am I…” She noticed him again but only for a moment, then her eyes began to glaze over again.

He slapped her then. She was back with him.

“Gil, I can’t fight it, I’m trying, but it’s like my innermost me isn’t me.”

“Come with me.” He dragged her over to the bar and poured a tall shot of vodka.

“Drink it!”

“You can’t beat it with this Gil.” Her eyes started to glaze again.

“Drink IT!” She tossed the shot back and coughed, but it seemed to help her stay here.

This battle went on for awhile: Gil yelling, slapping, Laura crying, dazed and finally stone drunk. Only then did the compulsion from the star ship end. Only then when she could barely talk much less walk was she able to ignore its siren call.

He led and half dragged her down to his basement to the laundry room where she promptly threw up.

He went and got some rope.

****

The ship finally left orbit, continuing its journey across the stars.

Gil was afraid he had driven Laura insane. The ship owned her, had created her and had been insistent about wanting her back. She was one of the ship’s remote probes. Once it was gone she started to cry and couldn’t be consoled. He untied her finally the day the ship seemed fully gone.

He bathed her, treated her bruises and bleeding wrists and then put her to bed.

She slept.

Would she finally be free?

Friday Flash Fiction: The Red Dress

Becker again.  I think I like this guy.  It’s playing out like a future-noir detective piece.  I like where it’s at and where it’s going.

Things are gonna get hot for Becker, in more ways than one.

Part 1: Jazz PIano and Johnny Freefall

---

By the time the morning came around I knew this was going to be some damn party. I was royally drunk, but so was the crowd. I’d been in a zone now for about three hours. Jammin’ with the band; they were good enough to keep up with me, not many are, but then Johnny has access to good talent.

Finally Johnny Freefall called a break in the action. He snapped his fingers and started walking out but stopped on the top step and held up his hands for quiet.

I couldn’t let him have all the fun and made sure I was the last to become silent, ending in descending crescendo; making the point that Mr. Freidal wasn’t the only power in the room. I had my own domain.

I let the keys rest finally, slowly turned a drunken eye over at the don’t-call-him-a-gangster in the black silk suit and gave him a nice warm smile.

“Thank you Mr. Becker.” Freidal smiled back. Point made.

“Now all you cats are coming back here tonight. Go sleep off your drunk and get some grub and be here at ten tonight. I’m sure we can convince Mr. Becker to be back to entertain us.”

Touché. I guess when it comes to power I play second fiddle. With a smile that showed he knew it, Johnny Freefall left the room with his entourage: couple of goons, couple of “lawyers” and a couple of girls.

“meh,” was all I could say, that bastard’s got it figured, don’t know if I hate him or respect him.

I picked up my Macallan and tossed the last drink back just as cliché’ boy in the dark sunglasses came up, “We’ gots you a nice room wit’ a bed.”

I’m sure you do.

****

The shower felt great. I let the water flow over my neck and peed in the drain. Even the towels were top shelf, thick and rich.

I was slipping into the bathrobe when the door chime sounded with three pleasing tones.

I shuffled, tired and still somewhat drunk, from the marble floor of the bathroom onto the plush carpet of the bedroom and then back onto the marble hallway in front of the suite’s door.

I knew this wasn’t gonna play out good the minute I saw her standing there. Blond, blue eyed and perfect. It was one of Freefall’s dames.

“Becker…”

I put my hand out in front of me, palm out, trying to stop the inevitable, “Listen Lady, I don’t know what you want…”

“Hear me out Becker,” and she barged into my room leaving a trail of perfume loaded with pheromones. The scotch in me blunted her seduction a bit, but my libido still said [hey what’s this then]?

Crap!

I closed the door, trapping the alluring aroma and the bombshell within.

“I need your help.”

“Yeah…yeah…look lady I play music, I don’t help people, I help one person, me.” I headed past her back to the bathroom. I was trying hard to ignore her curves and gaps, enhanced so well by the red dress she wore.

“I think Johnny killed my sister.”

“Crap! Listen…what’s your name?…”

“Mira.”

“Listen Mira,” I grabbed the towel, “I don’t do this sorta thing. You follow me? I DON’T. It’s bad for my health.” I rubbed the last of the drips from my hair, trying to keep my thoughts in order.

“I need to find out what happened to her.” Mira said as she slowly walked towards me. “All you gotta do is go ask my friend MIckie, he’ll know what to do.”

“Why…eh…why don’t you ask him yourself…” Man she moved great, I gotta get another drink. I let the towel fall to the floor.

“Johnny don’t let me talk to nobody.” She said, coming even closer, sidling right up next to me and bringing a hand up to my wet hair.

“Figures.” I broke away and maneuvered around her over to the bar, I needed to add some ammunition in the war between the scotch and her mysteries.

“Look, Mira, I can see you’re in a tight spot, but I kinda like being alive and what you’re askin ain’t gonna help that.”

She looked right at me as I was twisting off the cap of some Glenlivet, “Isn’t there something I can do for you? Something that might help convince you?” She started to slide a strap of her dress off her shoulder.

Dammit!

“Woah lady, we’re not gonna go down that path.” I almost dropped the bottle on the counter as I rushed over to stop her doing what she was gonna do. I grabbed her hand and pulled the strap back up onto the shoulder.

“You ain’t gonna help?” She said. Her shoulder felt really nice: smooth, warm, just the right curve. My hand seemed to want to stay there.

I found myself answering, “Well…uh…Mickie you say,” Crap, why’d I say that.

She looked down at my hand then back up into my eyes, they were glazed from the scotch and my wandering naughty thoughts.

I knew why I said that and she knew it too. She had me then, she reached up and moved my hand back down, with me still holding onto her strap.

“You can’t call him,” she said as down the strap went, “nothin’ electronic.” She slid the other strap down and her dress fell away like the opening of an Opera.

I tried to swallow, it turned into more of a gulp. But there she was exposed, a blond Aphrodite.

“You gotta talk to him face to face.”

“yeah…Mira…I’ll talk to Mickie.”

“I knew you’d help me Becker, I just knew it.” And she nuzzled her nakedness up against me and kissed me luxuriously.

It was everything she’d promised.

Interstellar

So she went against her will.

Will? That wasn’t quite right, for in this decision she had none.

She was a made thing. Created for the purpose of the negotiations. An organic component of the starship. A tool made in the image of the local inhabitants. And with the negotiations complete and the starship prepared for its next journey, there was no longer a need for her existence.

The fact that during her “life” on this planet she had fallen in love mattered nothing to the ship.

So she went, unable to resist the call. Feeling the emotions of the end of times, for she knew that only a small part of her would live on, would she remember the love? Surely not.

So she went against her will.

To be re-absorbed.

Friday Flash Fiction: The Delivery Boy

Just a scene.

---

I hate this damn building.

The elevator stank like you’d expect. Not for the first time I wondered when the last maintenance check had been done on it.

The doors opened up to a half lit hallway, gotta talk to the damn super again about the damn lights. Lazy slob that he is, perfect super for this damn building.

If it weren’t for the cheap rent, I’d be gone in a minute.

As I made my way to the door, dragging my suitcase behind me, Slink heard me and meowed back. How’d I get stuck with a damn cat? I hate cats…ok maybe not Slink. I unconsciously slid the key in and opened the door; home, such as it is.

Slink slid in for a quick pet and then away again, just like a cat, more interested in confirming I existed in her world than in actual contact. “I missed you too.” I said to her raised tail as she walked into the kitchen fully expecting me to follow. Damn cat.

I filled her food and water and then ignored her as she ignored me, we were a perfect match.

Routine, routine, routine. I picked up the remote and flipped on the tv letting the noise fill the background; tickers streaming at the bottom of Fox news. I walked out and pulled my suitcase into the bedroom flopped it on the bed and then stripped and showered.

By the time I came out of the shower sunbeams blinded me through the half closed shades. Sunset or sunrise, it took me a minute to remember, sunset…I think. I just got back to this side of the world an hour ago, I was tired but I needed to unload the stash first.

I opened the case and dumped the clothes on the bed. The data was woven into the fabric of the liner. No microchip, no silicon even, nothing to sniff for, nothing to detect. Carbon nano-tubes, grown with the data as part of their matrix. It was a time consuming process, but it let you hide so much data from so many prying eyes that for the right purpose it made economic sense.

Usually that purpose wasn’t quite legal, I lie to myself and call it a gray area.

I’m just a delivery boy. But a highly trained and valuable delivery boy; there are probably seven or eight people in the world that can do what I do. Friends and enemies all.

I pulled out my knife and cut out the liner, held it up to the sunbeams and  just barely saw the ten threads of different color and weight. I took the square meter of fabric out to the main room of the apartment, Slink was nowhere to be seen. Fox news was still going on about the latest bombing in Bangalore. I carefully laid the fabric sheet on my well lit drafting table.

Got a beer and changed the channel to ESPN.

It only took about an hour to extract the threads. Then another to feed them into the data recapture equipment. Before I hit the hay I had everything recompiled and burnt on two standard 128 gigabyte key fobs.

One for my client and one for me. You know, insurance.

I may be a valuable delivery boy, but I’m also a risk and you gotta look out for number one. My clients all know how discrete I am, but they also know I cover my ass. I gotta. Who’d feed Slink if I got wacked?

Tekepathic Love

I’m lame.

My triple-F writing frequency has fallen off a bit.  But I think I’ll be able to get it back up to speed for awhile now.

I like the way this one turned out, it might be a scene in one of the longer works I’m noodling on right now but it works pretty good on its own. 

It is hard to write about a new sense.  And I think I coined a term: techepathy or tekepathy.  Coming to a store near you over the next 10-15 years.

---

MJ floated in front of the main observation window. Her father stared back, trapped

The station was coming apart.

“Get clear MJ…there’s nothing more you can do.” Her father’s voice sounded farther away than the mere feet between, scratchy and broken over her helmet radio.

“Shut up, I’ve got to get you out.” She answered, ignoring the truth.

“You can’t.”

She knew he was right, but reached out with her gloved hand anyway and felt the thick glass of the observation window. “No!” Her anger seeped out in a red flare of flower and smoke, briefly stunning her father with its intensity. She always had trouble keeping her filters tight on her headgear when emotion overtook her.

“MJ, you’ve done all you can, you’ve saved so many…you need to get away and get ready. You know this isn’t the end, it’s only the beginning.”

She couldn’t even bang her hand on the glass in the weightlessness of space, even venting frustration was denied her.

“No.”

“Mallory, face the truth. Go, they need you.”

“no” this time it was only a whisper from the girl.

“I…” Her father faltered. “…can you…can you take something to your mom?”

Her fingers grazed the glass again, she could feel the destructive vibrations through the precise sensors on the tips.

“I want to make sure she knows how I’ve felt about her all these long years apart.”

“Yes” MJ answered even quieter now.

He knelt down on one knee, put a hand on the window to balance himself and then looked up at MJ.

She didn’t expect what he did next. Nobody ever opened up their headgear on purpose. Everyone learned from the time of insertion to keep it locked down. Even lovers rarely opened themselves.

But her father stripped the layers of locks and protection away and she saw everything. She saw the fear of death as a black raven with wings outspread hovering behind him. She saw the determination he had to endure the fear, the courage as a flame burning and lighting the shadows of the deathbird, keeping the darkness at bay.

This was how her headgear was seeing it. The signals sent from her father were bits and bytes, but her gear interpreted it as MJ would see it, as MJ thought. Each person might experience it differently; it was a sixth sense, a created tech sense. Tekepathy.

Closer in, in a tighter halo she saw and felt and knew the love and pride in her he held.

And there seared in around him, in a shell of enamel, she could see the love for her mom. She had not expected to see the fierceness with which he still loved her.

The unfiltered headgear of emotions swirled and became merely a black and white whirlpool. He severed the feelings of fear from the others until a form of the yin-yang hung above him, simplified love and fear, distilled. He carved the love apart and packaged it into a ball of crackling light. A ball of pure emotion. A ball of painful love.

Flint raised a hand in a physical representation of the extreme effort involved in sending part of your mind away, part of your emotions. He pushed his hand towards her in a tendon-tight shaking thrust and the ball of glowing white seemed to “float” towards her.

She’d never received something like this, it was rare to be offered a raw unfiltered packet. It was hard to meld and painful.

“take it.” He whispered, rasping, “please take it and give it to Sophie.”

She knew then that he had carved the pieces of love from himself and remained corrupted in only fear. The effects would wear off as the mind recovered but for the short term it would be hell to be bereft of love. He put a hand on the floor.

“TAKE IT!” he shouted, “Please.”

She let the glowing sphere approach.

It touched her mindwall, she gave it access and screamed as the other of her father came in.

Blackness followed and she remembered no more.

***

The war was long. It was years before she was back on Earth, the enemy vanquished.

Eventually one summer she finally gave her father’s glowing love to her mother. She had resisted giving it for a long time, unsure if it would hurt or heal or if she would feel anything at all.

They cried for a long time. He had been one of many to have died, now at least a part of him would live on.