Guy Stewart's Blog, page 109

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 280

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
SF Trope: alien parasites take over humansCurrent Event: http://www.dailygalaxy.com/my_weblog/2011/07/have-earths-pandemics-originated-in-outer-space.html
Choden Wangyal is the first generation of Tibetans to be born in the US. Her parents rarely come out in public and as an only child (not from lack of trying, her mother regularly assures her), she is their connection with the wider – and wilder – culture in which they live.
Choden was reading when she was 2 and has taken the most advanced classes her school offers. A 10thgrader now, she applied for and was allowed to begin college at the University of Minnesota through a program called Post-Secondary Education Opportunities (PSEO) and has been there for four months now.
With her college experience and her interaction with other American students, Choden realizes that she HAS to escape her family – soon!
One night, she chooses to stay late with a post-graduate student whom she KNOWS is flirting with her. They go to the Gartner Labs building where he has a night key. She never “actually told him” that she was fifteen, so when he makes amorous advances that terrify her, she cries out that she’s only fifteen.
Angry, he leaves her alone in the Labs, not realizing that his key card lanyard broke. Choden finds it and explores the labs alone. She stumbles in into the Virology Lab and without quite knowing what she’s doing, enters a restricted area that the boy, apparently, has access to. There she studies various experiments and when she picks up a shell vial culture to look at it, the plastic dissolves in her hand, the culture medium oozing over her fingers – and suddenly disappearing. She stares at her hand, suddenly doubting anything was there are all.
Choden hurries out of the Lab and to her aunt’s cousin’s sister’s dorm room where she spends the night. When she wakes up in the morning, she suddenly feels like she’s outside of herself. When she opens her eyes, she can see herself; wildly distorted. A moment later, one of her eyes pulls back into her head from the long stalk it was on and she can clearly see the other eye at the tip of a long, pale optic nerve sheathed in what appears to be chitin. That’s when she realizes that some sort of hideous, Kafkaesque metamorphosis has taken place. Or has it?
That’s almost acceptable until she begins to hear a voice speaking in her head. She can’t understand words, but the attitude is recognizable…                                                                       
Image: http://f.tqn.com/y/inventors/1/0/x/w/Solid_Propellant.jpg

Slice of PIE: The Future of Forensics!

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Kansas City in August 2016 (to which I was invited and had a friend pay my membership! [Thanks, Paul!] but was unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #2198. The link is provided below…
Panel Experts discuss what is current in the methods and technology of analyzing scientific evidence, and suggest where it might go next.
Jason Sanford: Midwesterner and writer of Science Fiction Strange, he’s won lots of awards.Alistair Kimble (M): Special Agent with the FBI and a writer…hmmmm…maybe qualified?Jack Campbell Jr.: Writer of Dark Fiction (so says his website title…)Diana Rowland: Writer of demons and zombies (and though I haven’t read one, it seems that they have a twist of sarcastic humor…that’s what the covers imply to me…)Anna Yeatts: author of short fiction all over the place!
Let me just say right here that I love forensics.
I used forensics to assess students in my special education science classes at the end of the school year. I taught several special classes at my middle school using forensics to find out who killed the school principal. I have in my possession an FBI manual describing various ways people die and how they are classified in the report every agent has to write.
Let me also say that I NEVER thought to use my love to write a science fiction story involving forensics! Weird, huh?
So – what’s NOW in forensic research and where might it go in the future?
Certainly, gel electrophoresis is a contemporary tool in forensics that’s used to separate mixtures of DNA, RNA, or proteins according to molecular size. In gel electrophoresis, the molecules to be separated are pushed by an electrical field through a gel that contains small pores. After treatment, the end result is banding in the gel.
How could that be “future-fied”? How about speeding up the process? How might that happen? Could you play around with amperage and voltage? Amps are a unit of charge, (the coulomb) that is the quantity of electricity carried in 1 second by a current of 1 ampere. Conversely, a current of one ampere is one coulomb of charge going past a given point per second; and voltage is electric potential difference, electric pressure or electric tension is the difference in electric potential energy between two points per unit electric charge. Maybe with new materials we could push that up; maybe make it in the detective’s head?
How about a “gun” that fires a cartridge full of nanobots that spread out and begin to process evidence at a scene immediately? Of course, what if a criminal gets hold of the programming? What’s to keep the nanobots from destroying or altering evidence…and (IDEA!) what if a Human detective had to work with a Gwelch detective – and the Gwelch, being a multi-organism, communal creature whose individual members look like cockroaches; work like millimeter-bots, sampling a site by eating things on it and processing, then passing on findings to the greater organism? This would work for trace evidence analysis, evaluation of body fluids, and compound determination, such as drugs or other hazardous chemicals.
In something called fluorescence spectroscopy, forensic technicians can determine the amount of light emitted after absorption to give information on the components of the sample. Recent developments allow for fluorescent nanosensors that allow the measurement of oxygen in biological fluids such as blood, interstitial fluid, and cerebral spinal fluid. How this could be USED, I have no idea!
However, I CAN imagine something that appears an accident in the power unit of a ship, station, or colony and these futuristic detectives using an inductively coupled plasma/mass spectrometry (ICP/MS). “Under the best conditions, ICP/MS detects elements down to the parts-per-quadrillion level.”
I’d have loved to be at this session, but you’ll have to excuse me, I had a “tiny idea” written down somewhere that’s just exploded into my head as a workable idea for a story!
Source material: http://www.labcompare.com/Forensic-Laboratory-Equipment/Program Book: https://midamericon2.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/MACII-PP-Interior-Final-HiRes.pdf
Image: https://c2.staticflickr.com/4/3129/3213140125_57c7bfdba5_b.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 48

On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. All three intelligences hover on the edge of extinction. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society might not only save all three – but become something not even they could predict. Something entirely new...
The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Kashayla; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two, warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.
“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.” “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.” “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)
“You were on their side, weren’t you?”
Retired spun around and if I hadn’t been so mad, I’ve have backed off. As it was, I didn’t flinch when he took a step toward me. He was only a little taller than me, but his shoulders were big. I probably looked like a branch compared to his tree trunk. He could have punched me or knocked me on my butt.
He didn’t. He growled and said, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it to me! How is being a traitor to Humanity a good thing?”
He cocked his arm, making a fist. I braced myself and kept my eyes open. If I was gonna die, I wanted to see how. Suddenly he laughed. It wasn’t a humor laugh. It was a grim, dark laugh. A gallows laugh. He lowered his arm and said, “You got bigger balls than I figured you for, kid.”
I know what that meant, but I wasn’t sure. Retired used old-fashioned slang all the time, but I think that was a compliment. So, I took it as one and said, “You haven’t explained anything to me yet, though.”
He snapped his head to the side, gesturing with his chin as he said, “Let’s sit down.”
I’d probably stretched my luck about as far as it would go – what with escaping a city about to go nuclear, a chase scene that would have made any movie an award-winner, and meeting someone whom I’d thought was Human and found out they were a robot – so I followed him when he went deeper into the Human part of the refuge.
It wasn’t exactly a fancy hotel, but there were chairs and couches built like they had been like, wooden crates at one time. He gestured, me and ‘Shayla sat. GURion stood to one side, arms crossed over his chest. He looked totally Human right then. I forgave myself for not noticing he was a robot. Retired said, “I worked for the Triad Corporation.”
‘Shay said suddenly, “Worked?”
He shrugged, “I’m freelance now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looked right at me and said, “I don’t go off Earth anymore. I’m a Triad agent here, in Minnesota.”
“What do you do?”
“Rescue teenagers – of all three Nations. Human, Kiiote, and Yown’Hoo.”
“Why do you do that?” I asked. I’d never thought of Qap and Xurf as teenagers; I’d really never thought of Herd Mother Dao-hi as anything but old.
“Because I think Humans can do better when they’re teamed with others.”
I snorted and said, “You’re gonna have to do better than that!”
He sighed and sat down on one of the chairs. “Listen, you need to get rest tonight. I’ll save the details for some night when we can sit around a campfire without worrying about getting our asses shot off. But to make a really long story short, as far as the Yown’Hoo and the Kiiote know, Earth, Kii, and Y’eh are the only three planets in this part of the galaxy where all of us can successfully reproduce.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth, so I shut it. “I don’t mean we can’t live anywhere else – and all three Nations have worlds with colonies. But there aren’t any other worlds where the combination of gravity, atmospheric gas proportions, insolation…”
“Insulation?” I said.
‘Shay slugged me in the shoulder. Even GURion rolled his eyes. Retired said, “The amount and intensity of light that a world receives from its primary.” He paused to let me ask any other stupid questions. I rubbed my shoulder and looked at my boots. He went on, “The average temperature and humidity are factors as well. But the single most important factor, when coupled with gravity, is cosmic and geological background radiation. For whatever reason, those two are profoundly limiting reproductive factors.”
I raised my hand to signal that I was going to ask another stupid question. Retired nodded to me and I braced myself for another slug from ‘Shay. “Both the Kiiote and the Yown’Hoo mastered gravity a long time ago, and can’t they just figure out the right amount of radiation and build it into some kind of…um…sex house or something?”
“Good question, Kid,” he said. ‘Shay slugged me.
“What was that for?”
“Having a dirty mind.”
“But…”
Retired saved me from saying anything else stupid by adding, “They can, but the correct combination of factors is so sensitive that even when they get everything exactly right, it can go wrong.”
GURion said, “The cost of creating such havens is so prohibitive that neither one of the super powers can afford to keep them.”
“Why would the cost make them stop doing that if they can?”
There was a long pause, then ‘Shay said, “Because if they make places like that, they also have to defend it.”
GURion said softly, “And success by either side at destroying the places carries its own cost.”

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Rhll_wire_rope.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 279

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
H Trope: "And I Must Scream" (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AndIMustScream)Current Event: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/my-life-aspergers/201405/serial-killers-autism-and-mass-murder-once-again
Krzysztof Oja blinked and slowly shook his head.
Eden Ochion thought he looked like a shaggy orangutan. A scary one. "There's no way you can tell me what you're thinking?" she tried again. Krzy -- whose unfortunate name lent itself to being abbreviated to "Crazy" -- squeezed his eyes shut harder. "You have to tell me what's going on in that shaggy head of yours!" She said, reaching forward and rapping on his skull. Why couldn't she get through to him? No one had ever been able to resist her charms. People ALWAYS told her their secrets. It's why she was the most popular person at Barack Obama High School. If people made her mad, she could always spill those secrets. "Don't you have any secrets, Krzysztof?"
He stared at her, took a deep breath, opened his mouth as if he was going to say something and then closed it again. It wasn't like he was going to stand up and leave, Eden thought. She'd actually, physically glued him to his chair. She'd set it up so that the chair was the only open one in the library. That was because she'd coaxed, coerced, and blackmailed everyone into leaving it alone just so that Krzysztof would sit there. What was weird was that he hadn't reacted at all. She knew -- somehow that she wasn't sure of -- that he realized he was sitting on several mounds of hardening crazy glue. She smiled at the interior joke. "Crazy glue for a crazy boy," she muttered. She fixed him with one of her brilliant smiles and said, "Anything you want to tell me?"
She was wondering why he hadn't said anything about the glue when he looked up at her. The intensity of his gaze was startling after the way he'd always let her looks slide off him. She'd been trying to catch his eye since he got to school on the first day. It rarely took her more than a week to break a new person down enough to find a secret tidbit or two. Even the principal, one of the wiliest old ladies Eden had ever met, buckled after a two-week onslaught of kindness and interest. In her heart of hearts, Eden called BO High a garden of earthly preflight...because once she knew what she knew, most people were ready to take off. Or do her bidding.
Everyone but little Krzysztof here. That was why she'd made him her special project for the past month. After the challenge of Ms. Zarinche the Principal, she thought he'd go down into a blathering heap as soon as she unleashed her feminine wiles. Now she had to face the possibility that he was gay and she'd have to have one of her coworkers do the attraction and extraction. She smiled into Krzysztof's baby blues. She studied them, looking deep. There was something unexpected in there; a deep, dark secret. Her smile spread from ear to ear. Here it was at last! "So, saxy boy, you got something you want to tell Mama Eden?"
His gaze didn't shift, except that it felt deeper, as if it were pulling her forward. She wanted to turn away because she'd always thought there was something to the idea that the windows were the eyes into a person's soul. She couldn't. He still didn't smile. In fact, his face had gone weirdly slack, as if he were concentrating hard. She tried to blink, but couldn't. She tried to take a deep breath, to sigh or whistle or something, but couldn't. Strangely, her breathing was slowing down despite the fact that she was starting to panic. This was incredibly weird...
Names: ♀ Hebrew; ♂ Czech
Image: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OCWXw6InF70/TKigMBk87NI/AAAAAAAAAy4/tL7MhIfL9CM/s1600/2212_1025142570.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: “Where No One Has Gone Before!” Part 2

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in Kansas City in August 2016 (to which I was invited and had a friend pay my membership! [Thanks, Paul!] but was unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This is event #2153. The link is provided below…
50 Years of Star Trek Part 2 (Part 1 is here: http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2016/10/possibly-irritating-essay-where-no-one.html ): How has Star Trek changed and developed as a franchise. Everything from writing styles, special effects, characters, ethics, social norms, toys, and more will be considered. Dave Creek, Randy Henderson (M), Ms. Melinda Snodgrass, David Gerrold, Shanna Swendson
Dave Creek – an ANALOG regular
Randy Henderson (M) – an experienced fantasy author
Ms. Melinda Snodgrass – REALLY??? She wrote several episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation while serving as the series' story editor during its second and third seasons!
David Gerrold – REALLY??? This is the name I remember immediately after Gene Rodenberry’s when it comes to script-writing. Not DC Fontana or any of the others. THIS one!
Shanna Swendson – an experienced fantasy writer
So, the panel was possibly dominated by comments from the most relevant comments from Gerrold and Snodgrass, but I’ve no doubt that in the others chimed in.
Onward, then. The subject: “How has Star Trek changed and developed as a franchise? Everything from writing styles, special effects, characters, ethics, social norms, toys, and more will be considered.”
OK – so I decided to do more on characters because my wife and I just finished re-watching STAR TREK: GENERATIONS.
When ST:TOS debuted a half century ago, no matter what people say about its “groundbreaking” look, the fact is that there was a young, studly white guy in charge, surrounded by sexy women in miniskirts; a doctor who was easily lifted from classic American Westerns; a Scottish engineer (of course, only the Scots can be good engineers); and a format that was as familiar as, well…WAGON TRAIN, only like, a “WAGON TRAIN to the stars”.
They acted as if problems like racism, sexism, violence, rape, and greed could be solved in 50 minutes (TOS) and continued to impose on us the idea that all it would take is to learn that “We Are Not Alone” in the universe, and we’d be all hunky-dory.
The fact that a Russian (who “accidentally” looked like one of the Beatles), a “Chinese” helmsman who did as he was told, a black woman who was in essence, a telephone operator, and Satan Incarnate (who ALSO did as he was told by the Power of White Males – were incidental).
Wow…
When ST:TNG was reborn a zillion  years later, a white guy was STILL heading stuff up and everyone – the black guys, the chicks (a doctor and a cheerleader), an artificial Human, the children, and the rest of the crew – did as they were told. Oh, this time the white guy was OLD…sorta and more closely matched…the show’s creator’s age. The young white male was tightly leashed and kowtowed to the Big, Old, Skinny, White Guy.
Shatteringly different…
Then came ST:DS9. I loved this series. Hailed because COMMANDER Sisko (note, he was not a captain) was IN CHARGE!!!! The question I had was “In charge of what?” A beat-up wreck of a place that was NOT a ship, but an extremely out-of-the-way shopping mall with a bunch of crazy, religious, recently-freed slaves on the planet below – did anyone else find that ironic?
Altogether unprecedented…
ST:Voyager had the Katharine Hepburn look-alike, Captain Janeway. Hailed as the first profoundly visible female captain, what is the first thing that happens to this crew led by a woman, with a “native American” first officer, a black second-in-command and engineer, a “Chinese” navigator, and a surly, rebellious young white dude sitting front-and-center? They got lost.
Leaping into the unknown…
Last of all, ST:Enterprise. The white guys are back in charge all over the place, only an Asian woman answers the phone now, a sexy Satan hovers over the white guy’s shoulder (and is generally ignored), a young black guy tries vainly to “Make It Good” neatly tucked under the wing of the captain, and the Big, Fat, Old White Guy is now the doctor with headgear – whom EVERYONE listens to.
*sigh*
This doesn’t lessen my love for the series, and in fact some of the things I disparage above WERE unusual in broadcast television (and movies). But I think that Trekkers, Trekkies, and the SF community has a bit of myopia when it comes to viewing its favorite TV series with claims that it was wow, shatteringly different, altogether unprecedented, and leaping into the unknown.
It was a TV series that during its five hundred and twenty-three hours of entertainment, occasionally had something profound to say. That’s hardly anything to sniff at!
Resources: https://www.quora.com/Exactly-how-long-would-a-complete-Star-Trek-franchise-marathon-take-all-movies-and-television-episodesProgram Book: https://midamericon2.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/MACII-PP-Interior-Final-HiRes.pdf
Image:https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/9a/Emblem.svg/2000px-Emblem.svg.png

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 90: DaneelAH & Company

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...…To see the rest of the chapters go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. They are HanAH, the security expert (m); DaneelAH, xenoarchaeologist (m); AzAH, language expert (f); MishAH, pattern recognition (f).
MishAH said, “I’ve read that United Earth is considering legislation that declares anyone who is less than some percentage of something they call ‘Original Human DNA’ will be inhuman and will be tossed into the category we live in.”
“They’ll be declared slaves?” AzAH said.
“They’re only rumblings of a few, sweet sister. But for now, we have a problem.”
“What?” AzAH and MishAH said together.
HanAH lifted his chin and said, “We’re here.”
The Rim of Burroughs Dome loomed over them as they approached. They slowed to wait with other marsbugs, vans, and transports, sealed and open to the atmosphere Humanity was building on Mars. After a few moments, the massive airlock opened, the vehicles moved in, the airlock closed, and the pressure outside rose until they could hear the howl of air being pumped in. Overriding the internal communication systems, the Dome Traffic Control said, “All vehicles please proceed to docking ports or inspection points for access to underground ramps and causeways.”
MishAH sat down and gripped the control handles, tipping them forward slightly. The ‘bug moved. “Seems our mysterious host has granted us control again.” He nodded and drove to a parking slot. Once they’d gathered their things, they got out and joined the movement of living beings.
Of course, they weren’t allowed to enter with Natural Humans but were directed through another gate that scanned them for contraband, brands, and ownership chips. The four of them passed easily – they were owned by the Mayor of Malacandra, after all, and their status, while officially below that of privileged Naturals, was considerably above that of Traffic drones like the Natural woman who passed them through once their chips registered.
Once in the transport hub of the Dome, they stopped and huddled. The high-ceilinged hub roared with the reflected and refracted voices pouring them back down as white noise which covered any one, specific sound. Conversations, music, and anything that was supposed to be said disappeared. More than one thief, con artist, kidnapper, or conspiracist had planned their crime under the Dome and the surveillance of countless peace-keepers.
 DaneelAH said, “We need to find this christian person.”
“That shouldn’t be hard, he was the Hero of the Faith Wars,” MishAH said.
“He’ll either be easy to find or no one will have any idea what we’re talking about,” said HanAH.
DaneelAH shook his head and said, “We’re emissaries of the Mayor of Malacandra to the people of Burroughs…”
“What message are we carrying to them?” said HanAH.
They all turned to DaneelAH, holding the silence for some time before he said, “The Mayor of Malacandra has a proposition for the Mayor of Burroughs…” he paused.
AzAH smiled faintly, crossed her arms over her chest. “What could the Mayor of Burroughs possibly want from the Southern Wastes?”
HanAH said, “The whole planet is a waste – what would the Mayor of one the Five Domes of Mars, possibly want with…”
“He would want evidence that there was alien life on Mars at one time,” DaneelAH said.
HanAH snorted, “What kind of evidence of alien life did Mayor Turin have?”
MishAH said, “We’ve got patterning evidence of unusual branching, subsurface markings.”
“What?” said HanAH.
“Tunnels,” said DaneelAH.

Image: http://img11.deviantart.net/c3c5/i/2009/067/9/3/dr__manhattan_by_theknightinhell.png

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 278

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
Fantasy Trope: Sword & Sandal (A period set in ancient biblical or mythological times…Sword and Sandal flicks…were especially popular in The Golden Age of Hollywood…Expect the landscape to resemble sand dunes and/or rural Spain throughout, making those sandals look more attractive.Current Event: Ben Hur (2016) (http://www.stevensaylor.com/StevensBookshopDVDNewMovies.html)
Ota Kte stood on the high bluffs above the roaring, churning brown of the Great River.
Shappa Hollow Wood shook her head and flipped her moccasins over the cliff.
“Shappa! Stop playing!”
“Hardly playing, Ota. I threw it to check the speed of the river water.”
He scowled at her. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I don’t appear to be laughing, consort.”
“I’m not your consort, you’re mine!” She muttered something crude. “You can’t say that!”
“I am not your wife. I am your consort. I am here to cement our factions, not produce children or dynasty.”
“You can’t…”
“I agreed to be your consort because one of your ‘braves’,” she snickered, “Invaded the…territory of one of our major agents.”
Ota snorted then sighed. “Fine. You were saying?”
“I’m testing current speed and direction,” she turned to stare steadily into the distance. I just saw the moccasin disappear from my view.” She paused, “My guess is that it traveled seventy steps in fifteen heartbeats.”
“How do you know that?”
She looked at him, shook her head and said, “Have all of your women been as stupid as a bleached skull?” She stepped around him. “You will need to know the speed of the Great River at this moment if your canoeists intend to outperform the Ojibwe canoeists.”
“We will be better than them by virtue of our…” he paused, then finished lamely, “virtue.”
She sighed and continued down the path from the bluffs to the horses waiting below. As much as she loathed her position in this faction of Lakota, she adored the horses that gave them their advantage over her father’s defiant raiders. Despite their surrender of her physical body to Ota – by the wisdom of the medicine woman, One Who Sings To The Stars – Shappa held tight to her spirit. One Who Sings kept the spirit talisman close by her side with an echo of Shappa’s spirit in the deepest part of her herb satchels. Only her father and youngest brother knew of its existence. Her father because his plan was to humiliate Ota the leader; her brother because no one would think to give such important information to such a young, unimportant person.
Ota had followed her, hurrying clumsily down the rocky trail. She wondered again how such an idiotic man would be made a leader. He called after her, “Consort! Attend me!”
She turned and held out her hand for him to take. He did, roughly, then pulled her to himself as if he were one of the pale-skinned creatures on the shore of the Ilhuicaātl Atlántico come recently to those far lands. Her father had agents spread over the length and breadth of the earth. A tribe of a cold land toward the rising sun called it all the Land of the Haudenosaunee. They told of strange behaviors of strange men and women. She pushed away, saying, “The race will start soon, my consort. You must speak to them; encourage them that they may bend these Ojibwe people to the path of your plans.”
His already thin lips vanished in irritation, but he knew the wisdom of her words as well. He released her and sullenly clambered onto his horse. By contrast, she floated up to the strong back of her horse. Smiling, she added an action that would advance her father’s plan for this silly man, saying, “One of your braves looked at me the other day…”
Names: ♀ Lakota Sioux; ♂ Lakota Sioux Image: http://www.skyscrapernews.com/images/pics/6255CaernarfonCastle_pic1.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: Can This Story Be SAVED? #6 INVADER’S GUILT (Submitted 16 Times Since 2009 (and several before that as well), Revised Twice (at least))

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, In April of 2014, I figured I’d gotten enough publications that I could share some of the things I did “right”. I’ll keep that up, but I’m running out of pro-published stories. I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it, but someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. Hemingway’s quote above will remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales, but I’m adding this new series of posts because I want to carefully look at what I’ve done WRONG and see if I can fix it. As always, your comments are welcome!
ANALOG Tag Line: In most science fiction novels, the aliens invade Earth and we fight them off, victorious and united, but what if WE were the evil invading aliens?
Elevator Pitch (What Did I Think I Was Trying To Say?): We’re so certain that Humanity is perfectible that hard core SF fans can’t imagine that we’d be the alien aggressors, invading another world for material gain. “We’re not LIKE that!” But what if we are? What if WE are the horrible, alien invaders?
Opening Line: “Escaping her past should have been easier than getting off the alien home world.”
Onward: From that opening line on, I rotated between four (or, originally five) characters. Three were Human, one (or two) were members of the alien WheetAh. I have a Human trader; a throw-away Human soldier, unbeknownst to him, loaded with a genocidal bioweapon; and a Human, Christian missionary to the WheetAh; and Weoofei, alien advisor the main planetary leader. (Originally, I included Mehrifei’s viewpoint as the planetary leader, but eventually cut him out and used Weoofei exclusively.) They all witnessed the Human invasion of Wheet, the alien homeworld, after a long, hard-fought space war. Their lives cross paths several times, then two of them join forces, three of them, until all of them are together at the end of the book as they save Humanity from itself.
What Was I Trying To Say? I confess that I was trying to be profound. In a universe that contained only Human and WheetAh intelligences – colloquially known among each species as Weasels and Weeds – who were by nature completely opposed to each other, could they learn to not only get along but grow together?
The Rest of the Story: The rest of the story devolves into a sort of Weasel for me: literally. It turns out that NOT the entire of Humanity wants to destroy the WheetAh. It’s just a rogue fleet. And even though the evil Vii, a powerful faction within WheetAh that desires the same thing the rogue fleet does – the eradication of Humanity from the universe – works against the invasion fleet, they have a plan for their own invasion of Earth. It also turns out that Mehrifei is insane and would rather destroy Wheet than let it fall to Humans.
I say that I weaseled this because it’s my unfortunate belief that most Humans are good – at least as good as living without God can make them; but that evidence shows clearly that we are NOT self-perfectible. A benevolent United Federation of Planets is impossible – and the fact is that the only thing that drove the whole Star Trek franchise was the search for ever more evil empires against which “poor Humans” had to FIGHT. True interstellar peace would be incredibly boring and the ratings would plummet and not one would bother watching the show. Oh, and the “aliens” are just devices to personify the scriptwriter’s personal belief system. Roddenberry and the other keepers of Trekdom would tweak the writing to keep it in line with their own belief systems as well…
At any rate, I didn’t let Humanity be evil. I let PART of Humanity and WheetAh be evil while the majority were “good people”.
End Analysis: I missed my mark by quite a bit – witness the number of times it’s been submitted. I suppose I can try to blame its rejection on the mild antipathy the SF community feels when regarding blatant Christianity, but I can’t because the last editor to read it was a Christian brother, so I have to conclude that I screwed up. Though it’s unconventional, I still like the rotating character format (I did the same thing in my unsellable YA novel, VICTORY OF FISTS, where I go back and forth between first and third person viewpoint of the same character). I like it, but clearly I haven’t been able to pull it off effectively. Also, when I started, it wasn’t clear in my head that Humans and WheetAh were the only intelligent life in the galaxy. I even added the “transcendent” Braiders to the most recent mix. It didn’t work – and I also found them intrusive to the story I was trying to tell. The slush editor who was both a Christian brother and who rejected it wrote a number of helpful comments he was under no obligation to do, but this is what I remembered, “The narrative was quite strong, and in places even powerful; however, some sentences were difficult to parse…The preponderance of alien names made for some confusing passages, though, and we find our readers prefer things a bit more straightforward -- smoother, with less chance of getting jarred out of the story…The alien physiology was quite interesting…”
Can This Story Be Saved? Clearly the answer is “yes”. I wrote this book a long time ago and I am a better writer now. I also have a clearer vision of what I wanted to say and how I goofed up. I have another universe where I can explore the interaction of wildly different aliens. I have another where there are NO aliens.
This is the one I think might be unusual enough to get published – though I open the book with there clearly being OTHER aliens. So…if I could disappear the others and carefully examine the interaction between the only two intelligences in our part of the galaxy, I think the story could be powerful and accomplish what I want it to accomplish.
But here’s the big BUT: I have to start all over again. I’ve been trying to do this by exploring the smaller stories, but they haven’t been successful yet. But I’m learning. Just like Hemingway says I should be!

Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9f/22/3b/9f223b1e57a36e14db3eb13715fbe3f9.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION: Chapter 47

On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. The Braiders accidentally created a resonance wave that will destroy the Milky Way and the only way to stop it is for the Yown’Hoo-Kiiote-Human Triads to build a physical wall. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society may produce the Membrane to stop the wave.
The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Kashayla; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two, warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.
“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.” “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.” “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)
Great Uncle Rion, who was not Human, stepped back, spread out his arms, lifted his head and said to the ceiling, “I’m the end line of guilt. I’m old enough – even if I wasn’t an android – to have seen the very first time Humans had anything to do with the aliens.”
“Which aliens?” Retired asked. His stance was suddenly loose, his hands open, hovering near his hips, he leaned forward slightly. He looked like he was ready to attack GURion.
GURion smiled and said, “Now that, Detective Spooner is exactly the right question.”
Without missing a beat, Retired, whom we also knew as Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh, said, “‘I, Robot’, 2004, starring Will Smith.”
GURion smiled and said, “Exactly. And almost a hundred years after I was activated by the Future.”
“The who?” ‘Shay said.
“No, The Who was an English rock band that formed in 1964. They are considered one of the most influential rock bands of the 20th century, selling over 100 million records worldwide.”
“What’s a record?” I said.
GURion shook his head, looked at Retired and said, “What do you Humans teach your kids these days?”
“The first aliens Humans ever met were the Kiiote,” GURion said, “They watched this world for a thousand years believing that their war would one day reach us.”
“They watched us for that long and did nothing to alter Human history?” My great uncle nodded. I said, “That’s why they’re not helping us now?”
“Of course. Both had ample time to assist Humanity through its wars and nuclear infancy.”
Retired slammed his hand against the wall. Me and ‘Shay jumped back, away from him. He said, “So their rape of Earth might have been stopped at some time in the past? They let us go through the Crusades, and the Mongol invasion of China, and the slaughter of the Children’s Crusade?”
GURion shrugged and said, “I don’t control anything, Commander Bakhsh. I’m a simulacrum of a Human who was charged at one time with guarding the young of the Kiiote. Sometime later, because of the nature of this farm and its location, I was contacted by the Yown’Hoo for the same purpose.”
“They didn’t know?” I asked.
“Not at first. Of course, they found out later – but by then, they’d both discovered that the only way they could successfully reproduce and raise healthy young was on the surface of this planet.”
“What?” Retired shouted, hitting the wall again. Me and ‘Shay stepped farther away.
My great uncle grinned. “You, of all people should know, Commander, that Humans found it impossible to conceive and bring their young to term on worlds too different from this one. Our Home World.”
I looked at Retired, at GURion, then back at Retired and said, “How would you know something like that, Sir?” I stared at him and he turned away. “You’ve been off of Earth, haven’t you?” I waited for him to turn around and when he didn’t, I realized that I was mad. Mad enough to say, “You were on their side, weren’t you?”

Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Rhll_wire_rope.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAY 277

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
SF Trope: genetic memoriesCurrent Event: http://physicsworld.com/cws/article/news/2013/jan/23/digital-files-stored-and-retrieved-using-dna-memory
Iker Dương flexed his bicep.
Leonie Gonzalez shook her head and rolled back over on her stomach.
“What? I thought you said you wanted to see a trick?” Iker said.
Without looking at him, she pulled up the latest Kathy Reichs Temperance Brennan book on her Kindenookpad – or knop – and got back to her reading.
“What are you mad at?”
Leonie said, “Listen Iker, I like you and all, but if you want us to be anything more than buddies, you’re going to have to actually talk to me.”
Iker sat down. The sappy sad look on his face almost made Leonie give in and feel sorry for him. Instead, she rolled over with her back to him.
He arched over her, planting his hands firmly on the ground then flipped his feet over, landing lightly. She almost grabbed him then, too. But they were almost done with their college freshman year, she wanted to get into medical school – she was aiming to be the first forensic anthropologist on Mars because now that the population there had topped three million, there were going to be MURDERS…
He flexed his bicep again and said, “I’m trying to show you something.”
She sighed.
“Not my muscle! I’m showing you what we’re doing in the lab!”
“Trying to create muscles from nothing?”
“Hey!” He pouted and she relented a bit. “I’m sorry, but the Mexicans and the Vietnamese are not known for producing Olympic weightlifting champions...”
“It’s not my muscle, it’s what’s in my muscle!”
“String beans?” She winced an instant after speaking the words but couldn’t say, “Iker, wait!” fast enough to stop him from sprint away. She also couldn’t quite stop the thought that he had a rather cute backside as well and even though he was sorta on the skinny side…
“Iker, wait!” He kept going. She stopped, pondered for an instant, then put her ancestry to work and sprinted, catching him in ten long strides, grabbing his arm. She thought for an instant that the bicep wasn’t as wimpy as she’d imagined. “I’m sorry, Iker – but you’re just such a tempting target. What...”
“DNA – I have a data package in my bicep. I’ve been carrying it for the past week and we’re going to take it out tomorrow to see if…”
From the shadows of the science building, a voice said, “I don’t think you should be talking about this, folks.”
Names: ♀ Swiss German, Argentinian; ♂ Mexican, Vietnamese
Image: http://f.tqn.com/y/inventors/1/0/x/w/Solid_Propellant.jpg