I had come to the Port on the Ship. I had stood with my fellow passengers upon her bow, rising high and white above the water as we entered the harbor; then at mid-day I, like the other passengers, wasted no time in descending the broad gangways where we were met by the welcoming locals who greeted us by placing garlands of flowers on our heads and toasting us with spiced drinks of local creation. For hours I had wandered the streets of that magnificent port. Once it had been the vanguard of a mighty empire now long forgotten but today it was a place of exotic beauty, a place where all the ships of the world came to trade and to mingle and to exchange stories of the myriad sights they had seen and the many novelties they had encountered so that all the world would know the secrets beyond their own horizon. I became enraptured of the Port. All day I had explored its myriad winding streets, engrossed by the aromas of exotic spices, the tastes of unknown languages, the colors of foods I had never seen and the touch and taste of alien but strangely beautiful woman. So when it was time for us to return to the Ship for the evening I remained behind in the port, for the Ship was not due to depart until long after the next sunrise and thus I knew that I would have time to continue to sample the novel
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The Ship
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Patterns
I awaken on the floor, cold linoleum against my flesh, surrounded by the smudged ink marks that mark my latest attempts at understanding. For a long time I lie there, patterns running through my mind, until the needs of my body are able to intrude upon the ever closer to perfect arrangements I am making. I am hungry, and the physical needs exceeds the mental. I regret losing the pattern I have created but I let it fade back into my mind and stand up. I stumble to the kitchen but am unable to find the nourishment I need. Empty packages and unwashed eating implements are scattered about, their surfaces mottled with the odd, semi-random patterns of mold and decay. I ignore them; I have examined their patterns long ago and find them lacking. I briefly consider the trails of the ants streaming across the counter, watching as they morph and wander in predictable but still random motion but they too I have previously considered and found unable to produce the true patterning I need. I realize that I must leave my place of safety and venture again into the world of others. Into that realm where man has forced existence into plain, orderly patterns that inhibit the growth of true beauty. I stumble into my long-ignored bedroom in search of appropriate clothing. I ponder long over my choice in what to wear, searching for those items which will exist in the necessarily exquisite harmony with one another. Of course
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Return to the Sea
I had come down to the sea. Why I no longer remember. What I do remember is that I swam out away from the shore, far enough out that the sea stretched to the horizon and the swells blocked the shore from my sight so that I was alone in the blue-green waters. I dove beneath the surface and saw that there was the surface of another sea beneath me, waves crashing on the rocks of an underwater shoreline. I somehow perceived that this was the surface of an ancient sea from long ago and that I was above its ancient shoreline. I was swimming through the air above that ancient sea and this air was different from the air above me. It was newer air, air that had not been breathed by countless generations of creatures and so still retained all of its vitality. Though I was beneath my own sea I could breath the air of this ancient time and so swam out to explore this ancient sea. For a long time I swam along this shoreline, watching the waves break against the rocks of a strangely barren land. Then, I reached a point where I could see objects far out to sea and I, desiring a change from the endless rocks, breaking waves and empty beach, swam towards them to see what they were. I discovered the towers of a city, rising from the ancient sea which broke with increasing ferocity about them. The towers were of
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Dreams of the Dreamer’s Dreams
I donned my dream suit and lay in my bed and was deep within my dream. In the dream I was in a world of shafts and corridors, doors and windows. As I climbed and walked and slid between them I passed others. They smiled and nodded as I passed but I did not stop them on their journies nor did they stop me in mine. Soon I came to the door I was seeking. The guard outside hesitated then smiled and stepped aside, proceeding on his way. I entered to find my bed wtih myself lying in it. But the bed was wide so I lay beside myself. I slept into another world, this one of warm inviting waters and islands covered with cool, dim forests. There were others here too, but I did not ignore them nor did they ignore me. We talked and laughed and traveled together, lying on the warm sand or swimming in the cool oceans. But inevitably after the long days I became tired again. One of my companions and I slipped into the forest where we found the small, guarded hut. Its guardian smiled in recognition of me and stepped aside, allowing us to enter the room with the wide bed. There were suits there for both of us and we donned them then lay together in the bed. We slept into a world of magnificent mountains and abysmal valleys. For days we explored this world together, climbing to the peaks of the
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NaNoWriMo 2011 – Week 3
Chapter 4 – The Division David did not relax until they had cleared the outskirts of Madrid and were driving through rural countryside. He was deliberately avoiding the major highway and using the SUV’s navigation system to find a more indirect route. No one had spoken. Dr. Alvarez was apparently still trying to absorb what had happened back at the Museum. Brad was the one who seemed to be worse off. This was his first active mission and David had forgotten that he had never been on a mission that turned hot and didn’t have the military background he and Alicia had. Adrenaline had carried him along until he got back to the SUV, but he had been silent ever since. He no longer looked as if he was going to be sick but David noticed in the mirror that he still had his eyes closed and his jaw clenched tight. “First time seeing death up close and personal like that.” he thought. Alvarez was the one who finally broke the silence. “OK.” she said quietly in an even voice. “Are you going to tell me what is going on here or not. There’s no way all of you are with the NSF. NSA, maybe. But I think I deserve to know what is going on.” “We’re sorry about your friend.” Alicia said. “That wasn’t what I asked. And I somehow doubt you are.” David shook his head. “Whether you want to believe us or not, we actually are sorry.
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NaNoWriMo 2011 – Week 2
Chapter 2 – Geneva David spent most of the trip reviewing the files on Folts’ team that had been sent. There was nothing unusual about any of them. Folts himself had a fairly extensive file; he was an outspoken critic of the US military, or anyone’s military actually, and had multiple run-ins with anyone that didn’t support his particular view of scientific research. He didn’t seem to be overly supportive of social or environmental issues either. Apparently his entire world view involved his branch of scientific research. Alicia and Brandon had been going through Folts research. The reports he had filed with the NSF seemed to support what Brandon had known about him; he had been working on his nano black hole theory. His grant filings had stated that he expected his research to have applications in energy production but Brad’s own analysis of what he had published showed no hints of research in that area. “I think he’s trying to make a black hole, no matter how small, just to say he was able to do it.” Brad finally concluded. Peter had been working at one of the computer stations toward the back of the plane and eventually came back forward, handing each of them a folder of travel papers. David glanced at his to see an NSF id card, passport and handful of credit cards. Brad had pulled out his passport. “I have one of these already.” he said. Alicia looked up. “I thought you said you had
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NaNoWriMo 2011 – Week 1
Prelude: Amazon Rain Forest – Brazil The moon broke out from behind the clouds, illuminating the junglescape with silvery light that reflected in dazzling highlights from the small stream. The light barely illuminated the ground below the jungle canopy but did reveal the buildings squatting in the middle of the large, cleared field as well as several men wandering slowly up and down the rows of crops growing there. In the darkness beneath the canopy, a shadow moved beneath a tangle of leaves and vines. David Stone lifted a pair of night-vision binoculars to his eyes, carefully angling them to avoid reflecting the moonlight toward the fields ahead, and scanned the area. He lowered them again, touched the earpiece he was wearing and whispered quietly. “I count six. You?” There was a slight pause then the earpiece crackled. “Yes, six on patrol. But I think there is another on the roof of the lab building.” David lifted the binoculars again and looked, then cursed quietly to himself. Gabriel was right; another man stood on what looked to be a platform built against the slope of the roof. He noted that this guard was also using a pair of binoculars to periodically scan the area. “I see him.” he whispered to Gabriel through the earpiece. “He’s running surveillance too. That’s going to make it more difficult.” “Agreed.” came the response. “Should we pull back? Wait for your government or mine to send more people.” David shook his head then remembered that
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NaNoWriMo 2011 – Back in the Saddle Again
Well, NaNoWriMo starts next week. For the three of you who don’t know, NaNoWriMo is short for “National Novel Writing Month”. The goal of NaNoWriMo is to encourage writers and those who aspire to be writers to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. No, really. I’ve attempted NaNoWriMo several times now and I’ve always failed but I’m trying again this year. My problem has always been that I have ideas for things (including this oft-neglected blog) but never seem to be able to actually consign them to paper (or word processor files in this case). I keep hoping that I will come up some magic formula that will let me write things easily, but have never come up with one. The truth is, creativity is hard work. I’m sure there are some people out there for whom things flow naturally but for me it often feels that there is a physical block between what I want to get out of my brain and actually getting those ideas into physical form. So I’m trying NaNoWriMo again this year. I’m hoping that if I can physically force myself to put words down on paper, then I will somehow open the hole between the inside of my head and the outside. Will it work? Who knows, but for now I’m planning on it. See you in November.
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Level 5000
I had been climbing for days. I don’t know exactly how long I had been on the ladder. I had tried counting for a while, numbering each rough, corroded rung as it passed in the dim glow of my biolight, but I had lost count somewhere in the tens of thousands. I do know I had slept three times, hanging clipped to the ladder, but in the darkness of the shaft I had no way of determining how long I had gone between sleeping. So I continued to climb. I was starting to wonder if I should climb back down and try to find another upward access from the maze of vents I had previously been traversing when a change in the shadows indicated an end to the shaft. The ladder finally ended in a horizontal panel. It was frozen in place, but a few sharp blows were sufficient to break the seal produced by decades of oxidation and it finally, reluctantly drew aside. I pulled myself up into the room beyond and lay for a long time, allowing my arms to rest as I lay motionless on the padded floor. After some time I stood up and looked around. I was in some sort of maintenance closet. Several machines I did not recognize stood along one wall, a faint, almost unnoticeable vibration being the only indication that they still functioned. Part of the air circulation or food fabrication systems I presumed. Certainly not one of the enormous electromagnetic generators
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At the Array
The beacons and the sweeping beams of the Interdiction Array glittered ahead of me, an out-of-place brightness against the faint dusting of the Void. I sat in the command chair, eyes half-focused on the view outside and half on the image on the overhead monitor. There, the Sun hung faintly against the darkness. Out here, at the edge of the Void, it was but a little brighter than the only slightly dimmer and slightly more distant stars beyond. Still, it was the only Sun I had ever seen in the sky and the thought that I would probably never see it again caused me to doubt once again the course I had sat myself upon. I rested my hands on the controls and noticed that they were shaking slightly. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself and the shaking diminished but did not cease. I sighed. I had been waiting out here too long. Unfastening my harness, I allowed myself to drift upwards out of the seat a bit and stretched. I then punched the heat button on the coffee pod and fumbled for a cigarette. I would have liked something stronger but after several days with no sleep I couldn’t take the chance of getting too relaxed. “At least I’m not talking to myself yet.” I thought, then winced. I had said it out loud. Oops. So much for that. I lit the cigarette and took a deep pull from it. The shaking faded and I released
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