Guy Stewart's Blog, page 89

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 343

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: the attack of the killer ALGAECurrent Event: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aT4LY2KcOrs
Jefferson Benson looked up from the microscope and said, “What do you mean, ‘it looks like it’s spreading’?”
Terace Miller shook her head, “I didn’t say that. It IS spreading.” She held out her hand. A thin patina of greenish-brown made the skin on her forearm look wet.
Jefferson leaned back. “What happened?”
“I was working late – I’ve got to have the slides examined and summary prepped for Dr. Hester by tomorrow at the latest. She said she wanted it today.”
“So?”
“So, I worked until about four this morning then fell asleep at the computer.”
“How’d you get algae skin from that?”
She slugged him in the shoulder with her uninfected arm. “I dozed off – slept sideways. My back was to the microscope and my arm was against a dish with a sample of the algae in it.”
“It crawled out of the dish?” he looked at her, scowling.
“Algae can’t crawl, idiot!”
“Hey! Just because my master’s thesis is in the histology tapeworms doesn’t mean I’m ignorant about plants!”
“It just means you’re plain ignorant,” Terace said. “Listen, for whatever reason, the algae got on my arm. I washed it off, but it grew back.”
“What?”
“It grew back in about an hour. Even after I swabbed it with alcohol and betadine.”
“You try salt water?”
“What?”
“Isn’t your algae a freshwater variety?” She blinked at him in surprise. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “I listen to what you talk about!”
“You just never…” she looked down at her arm, brushing over the slick spot. “I don’t know. I used the other things so I’m sort of afraid of trying saltwater. Besides, the same species has been found in freshwater aquariums and off the coast of California.”
“Really?”
She nodded slowly, stared at the slimy patch for a moment, then said, “What if the algae has taken up a commensal relationship with epithelial cells?”
“You mean like lichen?”
She pursed her lips, looked him in the eye and nodded slowly.
Image: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OCWXw6InF70/TKigMBk87NI/AAAAAAAAAy4/tL7MhIfL9CM/s1600/2212_1025142570.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: Can This Story Be SAVED? #20 “Rock of Ages” (Submitted 8 Times Since 2005, Revised 3)

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: How long you can hate someone has its limits, even when you are vastly different from the one who hurt you; and the hurting was done purely as an act of war.
Elevator Pitch (What Did I Think I Was Trying To Say?)Two mortal enemies can forgive each other even after two centuries of enmity.
Opening Line: “I’m ready to die.”
Onward:“I think Sturgeon is ready to die, too.“But before that moment, I need to see him face-to-face. The Ilshshlir and I can do First Contact and the Final Battle at the same time. For a hundred and seventy-one years, we have been marooned on Earth at the same time, apart. The moment to come together is upon us.”
What Was I Trying To Say? This one was all about forgiveness and how it doesn’t just “happen”. Forgiveness is a verb, and it’s a two-way verb; and a universal need.
The Rest of the Story: As written, I threw in some sort of tabloid reporter who, while he pretends the story is imaginary, has suspected their presence on Earth for some time. He has made their story his life’s work, and the story has taken on a life of its own, much as the WEEKLY WORLD NEWS’ “Batboy” series.
Smithe has grown old with them, though not as old as them – Sturgeon, of the Ilshshlir, a race of intelligent alien “fish”, and my unnamed (a la Ralph Ellison’s INVISIBLE MAN) humanoid alien protagonist, of the Kuvor; have lived on Earth for a hundred and seventy years.
The story does include their initial battle and the end result that stranded them on Earth. When it appeared he be stuck on Earth for the rest of his life, the Kuvor had himself surgically altered to look more Human (the removal of a sixth finger) and has stories to explain his other “deformities”. He has married three times, adopting numerous children. He has also made several fortunes by introducing Kuvor technology to Humanity in bits and pieces.
My protagonist is ready to die, his people committing ritual suicide while still in their right mind, and at the onset of certain physical signs. He is old and wants to die in peace; and while he has been seeking Sturgeon, has only encountered him a few times in the nearly two centuries they’ve lived on Earth.
End Analysis: The story is poignant, sad, but ultimately uplifting. However, it’s deeply marred by adding in the stupid Human who plays no role but to, I suppose, Humanize the story. The older versions included a scene in the newspaper’s HQ as well as a bar scene for the Kuvor.
I chopped it down and chopped it down until it’s almost to its bare essentials.
It’s almost there.
Can This Story Be Saved? I need to drop the Human and add two battles, one where each one almost kills the other. One scene can be reminiscent of Ahab’s battle with Moby Dick – from the point of view of Sturgeon; the other perhaps can be reminiscent of the fight scene from INVISIBLE MAN, emphasizing that the nameless Kuvor will never BE Human, no matter how much he looks like a Human and learns to act Human. Few people will accept him as being, in a broader sense, Human.
So, yes. This story CAN be saved and I look forward to working on it and several others.
Image: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9f/22/3b/9f223b1e57a36e14db3eb13715fbe3f9.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION 80: The Trials of Group Four

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 Xiomara; 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)
GURion refused to help me lead, it wasn’t like Retired. It had its own agenda. So the departure of Group Three was sort of dark thing for me. I’d be the last Human in the group with a robot, the Herd Mother Dao-hi, and two of the youngest Herd members.
The only startling part was that Xio kissed me before she left. Absolutely NOT like a sister. After we pulled apart, she also punched me in the chest and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, ‘Car, but I’m pretty sure you’re not my type.” She paused, “I might be interested in older men.” She gave me a dirty leer, adding, “Much older men.”
Then she led her team up the tunnel to the surface.
Shaking my head, I said to the rest of the Triad – without GURion or Retired, there were only me, Dao-hi, Lan-ma-ti, and Por-go-el. The Herd Mother would take care of her Herd. All I had to do was give direction…
Dao-hi pulled her tentacles free, snapping them at me; a Yown’Hoo challenge. There was only one thing she could be challenging, and even though I thought it was a moot point, I had to respond.
She was challenging my leadership. I knew the signals; I knew the stance, I knew what I had to do, even though I didn’t have tentacles. I had arms and I had one pair of legs – and my two might not have hooves, but they were ten times stronger than her.
I squatted, as if I was cowering, then throwing my arms into the air, I raced at Dao-hi; either she would step back and I would win, or she would stand her ground, fight back, and maybe shred my face with her saber-sharp hooves. She could; but I was heavier and faster on two feet. I could swing around, hop on her back…
Dao-hi gave ground, sheathed her tentacles, then keened – more like a wolf than when the Kiiote gave praises to their Herd Mountain. Every Herd had a place they claimed as their origin, the plain beneath a mountain peak somewhere on their world. Their highest form of praise was to do a song to the mountain; a song passed from the first Herd to become established there. The size of the mountain had once determined the prestige of the Herd. Obvious in ancient times – the biggest, oldest Herd had the best mountain range, and the best feeding. Everyone else was less.
Dao-hi was giving me command of her Herd whether she was there or not.
Suddenly she charged me, swinging her long neck and catching me full in the chest. She knocked me clear across the tunnel and she reared back, shouting, “There is no one here to protect you, small Human! No one here to make me your equal or the Pack’s equal when I am the one who is superior!” I staggered to my feet and she swung her head again. I didn’t move fast enough, and I couldn’t believe what she was saying – she was betraying us! She was betraying us to…
***Her Human friend, companion, and Herd member slumped against the wall.
She loathed herself for betrayal. Por-go-el, potential male, and the potential intelligence Lan-mai-ti cowered as ‘Car had. He hadn’t believed her deceptive action. It was uncharacteristic of her kind; among real Herd, it might almost be deviant behavior! But she had learned from Humans and Kiiote; her people had learned from the Kiiote the sometime wisdom of committing a crime that would lead to greater good.
She leaned to sniff at ‘Car. He was alive, unconscious, and might have even broken a bone – the scent was there, though faint. The potential male and intelligence would soon discover if they were worthy of both the Herd and the Triad.
Dao-hi, Herd Mother snorted them to attention and said, “We must go!”
“Where Herd Mother?” the potential intelligence said.
To herself, she noted that this was a good sign. Out loud, she said, “Question me not, Nothing!”
Both cowered. She regretted harming ‘Car, but he orders came from a much higher power, so much higher that Dao-hi had first assumed it was a Kiiote deception or a Human trick – the apes were masters at the trick; sometimes not serious, sometimes worse that Kiiote deception. It was no wonder the Mother-of-All had never known exactly what to do with Humans – were they enemy or ally? Were they irrelevant or essential to the survival of Yown’Hoo? She’d grown up with them, and even Dao-hi wasn’t certain.
But Oscar was part of her Herd and she still wasn’t sure how to deal with this deception. She couldn’t philosophize any longer. She had a mission. “We go!” she snarled, then tipped her slender head back and howled. A moment later, she raced ahead, what remained of her Herd fast behind, at times dodging between her flashing legs. A short distance, and she found the abandoned branch of the tunnel and raced up the ramp screened by a holographic image of a collapsed tunnel wall. Ten minutes later, they emerged into a partially collapsed Human garage and after that, though an easily collapsed door and into belly deep snow surrounding a Human forestry station.
With a flash of hooves, she broke through untouched snow to lead her Herd into the dense pine woods.
Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Rhll_wire_rope.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION 80: The Trial of Team Four

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 Xiomara; 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)
GURion refused to help me lead, it wasn’t like Retired. It had its own agenda. So the departure of Group Three was sort of dark thing for me. I’d be the last Human in the group with a robot, the Herd Mother Dao-hi, and two of the youngest Herd members.
The only startling part was that Xio kissed me before she left. Absolutely NOT like a sister. After we pulled apart, she also punched me in the chest and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, ‘Car, but I’m pretty sure you’re not my type.” She paused, “I might be interested in older men.” She gave me a dirty leer, adding, “Much older men.”
Then she led her team up the tunnel to the surface.
Shaking my head, I said to the rest of the Triad – without GURion or Retired, there were only me, Dao-hi, Lan-ma-ti, and Por-go-el. The Herd Mother would take care of her Herd. All I had to do was give direction…
Dao-hi pulled her tentacles free, snapping them at me; a Yown’Hoo challenge. There was only one thing she could be challenging, and even though I thought it was a moot point, I had to respond.
She was challenging my leadership. I knew the signals; I knew the stance, I knew what I had to do, even though I didn’t have tentacles. I had arms and I had one pair of legs – and my two might not have hooves, but they were ten times stronger than her.
I squatted, as if I was cowering, then throwing my arms into the air, I raced at Dao-hi; either she would step back and I would win, or she would stand her ground, fight back, and maybe shred my face with her saber-sharp hooves. She could; but I was heavier and faster on two feet. I could swing around, hop on her back…
Dao-hi gave ground, sheathed her tentacles, then keened – more like a wolf than when the Kiiote gave praises to their Herd Mountain. Every Herd had a place they claimed as their origin, the plain beneath a mountain peak somewhere on their world. Their highest form of praise was to do a song to the mountain; a song passed from the first Herd to become established there. The size of the mountain had once determined the prestige of the Herd. Obvious in ancient times – the biggest, oldest Herd had the best mountain range, and the best feeding. Everyone else was less.
Dao-hi was giving me command of her Herd whether she was there or not.
Suddenly she charged me, swinging her long neck and catching me full in the chest. She knocked me clear across the tunnel and she reared back, shouting, “There is no one here to protect you, small Human! No one here to make me your equal or the Pack’s equal when I am the one who is superior!” I staggered to my feet and she swung her head again. I didn’t move fast enough, and I couldn’t believe what she was saying – she was betraying us! She was betraying us to…
***Her Human friend, companion, and Herd member slumped against the wall.
She loathed herself for betrayal. Por-go-el, potential male, and the potential intelligence Lan-mai-ti cowered as ‘Car had. He hadn’t believed her deceptive action. It was uncharacteristic of her kind; among real Herd, it might almost be deviant behavior! But she had learned from Humans and Kiiote; her people had learned from the Kiiote the sometime wisdom of committing a crime that would lead to greater good.
She leaned to sniff at ‘Car. He was alive, unconscious, and might have even broken a bone – the scent was there, though faint. The potential male and intelligence would soon discover if they were worthy of both the Herd and the Triad.
Dao-hi, Herd Mother snorted them to attention and said, “We must go!”
“Where Herd Mother?” the potential intelligence said.
To herself, she noted that this was a good sign. Out loud, she said, “Question me not, Nothing!”
Both cowered. She regretted harming ‘Car, but he orders came from a much higher power, so much higher that Dao-hi had first assumed it was a Kiiote deception or a Human trick – the apes were masters at the trick; sometimes not serious, sometimes worse that Kiiote deception. It was no wonder the Mother-of-All had never known exactly what to do with Humans – were they enemy or ally? Were they irrelevant or essential to the survival of Yown’Hoo? She’d grown up with them, and even Dao-hi wasn’t certain.
But Oscar was part of her Herd and she still wasn’t sure how to deal with this deception. She couldn’t philosophize any longer. She had a mission. “We go!” she snarled, then tipped her slender head back and howled. A moment later, she raced ahead, what remained of her Herd fast behind, at times dodging between her flashing legs. A short distance, and she found the abandoned branch of the tunnel and raced up the ramp screened by a holographic image of a collapsed tunnel wall. Ten minutes later, they emerged into a partially collapsed Human garage and after that, though an easily collapsed door and into belly deep snow surrounding a Human forestry station.
With a flash of hooves, she broke through untouched snow to lead her Herd into the dense pine woods.
Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Rhll_wire_rope.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 342

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. Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility, integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.
Fantasy Trope: Arcadia http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ArcadiaCurrent Event: Earth and prairie structures integrating land and technology… https://www.onecommunityglobal.org/highest-good-housing/
 Sahkyo Uskilith shielded his eyes from the glaring noon sun over Central. Long spells, sacrifice – no more Human ones! – and research into the ancient ways had restored this small part of the world.
Wohehiv Fisher-Rainingbird snorted. She took the same pose, then said, “Some of you seem to think that this wonder you’ve conjured is going to be utopia.”
Sahkyo shrugged. “Not utopia, but a fair chance to do things a different way.”
“What things?”
He looked at his long-time friend and research fellow. They’d joined the Prairie Project for different reasons. She was doing research on prairie biomes and how Humans could repopulate some of them. He, on the other hand, “Calling back the spirits instead of driving them away.” He was working on his masters degree in revival, not of literal, human beings from the dead – he shuddered – but reviving spirits that had been drained by the constant attack of the mechanistic methodologies used to conquer land and beast.
That kind of magic wasn’t available in the United States. He’d heard there was an underground college of the dark arts somewhere in the Carpathian mountains that specialized in combining biogenetic research with magic. Not something he wanted to pursue. He was…
“Wohehiv to Afterlife! Where are you?”
“I’ve invited someone to our excursion today.”
She scowled, “You didn’t even ask me!”
“The opportunity presented itself suddenly. I had to invite them before they left.”
“Where’s he from?”
“She,” he paused to let that tidbit sink in, continuing, “is a research fellow visiting from The College of Truly Ancient Arts.” They reached the car and he unlocked it with a motion of his fingers. His parents had gotten him a recent model equipped with camera locks. His mother had pointed out that audio locks were easy to pick using a throat modification spell.
Wohehiv – Dull Knife – said, “Never heard of it. Or her.”
He lifted his chin, “She’s from the University of Minnesota’s School of Trolddom…”
She knew her jaw dropped open and she blinked in surprise. “That school was closed a hundred years ago!”
“I would guess that it wasn’t,” he said, smirking.
“Danish magic is only good for making pastry…”
“They turned aside an attack from the Carpathian Mountains…”
“When? Last year? The Dawn of the Time of Magic?” She started to laugh, then added, “You’re not talking about Vlad the Impaler, are you, because if you are, I’m leaving…”
“Not Vlad. Radu, his brother. He was a far more powerful necromancer than his brother. The reason was that the spells required the blood of the one who worked the spell. Vlad’s propensity for blood sacrifice – most notably the blood of others – kept his magic fairly pedestrian.” He paused. “If we are going to truly colonize the Great Plains, we need powerful magic. This woman has studies Radu for the past five years. He has something we need.”
She stepped away from her friend. She knew he was a magician of some skill and power, her own charms and magicks were child’s play compared to him. “What?”
“The ability to change Humans into grass eaters instantly…”
Names: ♀ Navajo ; ♂ CheyenneImage: http://www.skyscrapernews.com/images/pics/6255CaernarfonCastle_pic1.jpg

Slice of PIE: Military SF: Pro-war or Anti-war?

Using the Programme Guide of the World Science Fiction Convention in Helsinki Finland in August 2017 (to which I will be 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 Programme Guide. The link is provided below…
“Joe Haldeman's The Forever War is still relevant after 40 years. Even though it was meant as a Vietnam protest originally it could easily apply to the Middle East today. Why is anti-war military SF still written or is it? Should it be?”
Leon Perniciaro: German writer, teacher, and translatorRobert Corvus: German fantasy and science fiction writer; BattleTech, Das schwarze Auge (The Black Eye), Perry Rhodan, dark fantasy, and scientifically solid SF novels  i. simes: journalist, publishing editor, and booksellerJoe Haldeman:SFWA Grand Master, five Hugos, five Nebulas; World Fantasy Award ; SF Hall of Fame
The plot from Amazon.com: “Earth's leaders have drawn a line in the interstellar sand--despite the fact that the fierce alien enemy they would oppose is inscrutable, unconquerable, and very far away. A reluctant conscript drafted into an elite Military unit, Private William Mandella has been propelled through space and time to fight in the distant thousand-year conflict; to perform his duties and do whatever it takes to survive the ordeal and return home. But ‘home’ may be even more terrifying than battle, because, thanks to the time dilation caused by space travel, Mandella is aging months while the Earth he left behind is aging centuries...”
In an interview, Haldeman said in part, “The novel was unique in the fact that it was a war story at heart, but not explicitly right-wing, like most similar works of the time. It’s interesting the Haldeman didn’t “bash the military” or rail against “unfair wars” or the Military-Industrial Machine. Instead, he notes that THE FOREVER WAR is, in fact, a war story even though it’s not right-wing.
The theme of his work, as related by the author, isn’t anti-war. It’s about relationships and how we need to work with people who are different than us.
Somehow, I suspect (though can’t know for sure, because, you know, like I said above, I wasn’t there…this is all about jumping off the parameters of the sessions as published and then seeing what bubbles up), that the attendees might have had less benevolent intent in their discussions. I can hear people talking about how the author intended to say that not only is war bad (except when it’s twisted to fit whatever the ruling party’s agenda includes), it’s always the fault of the “other side”, whether it is or not. For example, a Democrat actually led the escalation of the war (Lyndon B. Johnson) in response to a North Vietnamese offensive; a Republican began the withdrawal of American troops…but that’s not something that SF people like to talk about.
We all like our ideologies to be right, tight, and black-and-white.
Haldeman had something to say about war, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the intended lesson of the Right or Left. I think he intended to say that war is personal, even when it’s “fought by nations”.
My neighbors – and several students – are Hmong. The state I live in has the third largest Hmong population on Earth and was the first state of the Union to have a Hmong legislator who went on to serve for eight years. I often wonder about the journey they took to get here. I tried to reflect some of what I’ve seen in a short story I wrote (but couldn’t sell for some time). If you want to read it, it’s here: http://aurorawolf.com/2016/09/carpe-hnub/
The intent of this Slice of PIE is to point out that the man who changed the direction of “anti-war” science fiction wasn’t interested in serving the “anti-war” political machine (make no mistake – it’s as much a machine as the political war machine; it just pulls in the opposite direction just as hard and just as nasty). What he clearly says here is that the theme of The Forever War became, “…dealing with people who are fundamentally different from you [in terms of] appetites, tastes, philosophies, who still have to work together…”
Sounds like it’s not JUST about war, either. War is just the backdrop of a story about people. People like my neighbors…
Resource: https://theportalist.com/joe-haldeman-tells-the-story-behind-the-forever-war(The Portalist is a haven for science fiction and fantasy fans. We value imagination and science equally, and welcome all who are curious, passionate, and eager for an uplifting, inclusive view of the universe.)Program Book: https://sites.grenadine.co/sites/worldcon75/en/w75/schedule
Image: https://internationalagenda.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/uninvolved-in-peace.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 119: Aster of Opportunity

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 and I’m sorry, but a number of them got deleted from the blog – go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (70,000+ words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.
Aster Theilen continued to walk, flashing letter “I”s appearing abruptly at intersections. Someone was guiding her through the Underground, deep beneath the lowest level of Opportunity Dome, until she reached the sub-Dome elevator. She got in, rode ten levels up and stepped out – into the bright concentrated sunshine of midday. She was still on the lowest level of the Dome and for a moment she stood blinking.
Several blue Artificial Humans dressed in dark blue business tunics and pants, stepped up to her. One, an elderly male she’d never seen before, said, “Excuse me, Madame Consort, but the Mayor, his Excellency Etaraxis Ginunga-Gap has sent me, BondAH to collect you.”
Aster snorted. “And how did his Excellency know I would be exiting here?”
He lifted his chin and said, “His Excellency has his ways. Perhaps the best known is that he is always listening.” BondAH managed to keep his smile to a twitch of one corner of his lips.
Aster couldn’t control hers as she replied, “Message received.” She nodded, “I would be delighted to travel with you, Master BondAH.”
“Simply ‘BondAH’, if it please your Grace.”
She lifted and eyebrow and said, “It no longer pleases me, Master BondAH. It no longer pleases me.”
“Indeed, Madame Consort. Does the Mayor know of your displeasure?”
Aster considered. If she pushed the Mayor, her titular Consort too hard, he might side with vo’Maddux – though Aster couldn’t imagine anyone siding with that pit viper of a woman. If she didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, she might lose her chance to change the Dome and its politics and policies, not least of which was its restrictions against people like her father. As pastor of an underground church attended by Human and Artificial Human alike, he had also become a political figure. She suddenly found herself wondering what, precisely, he was doing.
While he’d never overtly opposed the strong mayor-weak council government, there was always a first time. Overtly opposing it as he’d never much cared for it, either, preferring an absolute democracy instead.
By the time she’d reached the conclusion that her father was doing far more than she thought he SHOULD be doing, she’d reached the Residence with her entourage. She looked over the BondAH and aid, “If he didn’t already suspect it, I think I’ll let him know right now.”
BondAH bowed slightly and said, “Your Grace.” She noticed that there was a bit more of an inflection on the word than he’d used before. For a moment, she caught herself wondering if Artificial Humans could be Christians. She knew her dad believed so, otherwise he wouldn’t have a church below the surface of Mars. She imagined the Hideous Times on Earth, when Human trafficking had been a norm for virtually any large culture. Had there been real believers who felt that captured, enslaved peoples deserved to hear the good news? Who had, rather than setting out to “brain wash” slaves into the new culture, shared with them the same way Christians had always shared their faith – humbly and with fear. Not EVERY slave who converted to Christianity did so for fear or hope of gain. Some would have been moved by God. Some became real followers. Despite outsider’s implication that slaves and low-tech civilizations were populated by stupid and easily persuaded people, some of the converts must have been intelligent men and women startled by truths of a faith they’d never experienced before.
So, that made Dad’s mission below a real mission field. It also flew in the face of the philosophy of the United Faith in Humanity. The underpinnings made it clear that Christianity – as well as Buddhism, Islam, Taoism, Hinduism, and the other faiths of Humanity, in fact any belief in anything immaterial, were the sole cause of Human suffering. Humans being Human was something worthy to belie. It affirmed that Humans had the ability and responsibility to lead ethical lives of personal fulfillment that aspire to the greater good of humanity. Guided by reason, inspired by compassion, and informed by experience— Humans would encourage each other to live life well and fully, recognizing that values and ideals were subject to change as Human knowledge and understanding inevitably advanced.
In her personal life on Mars, she had not seen lots of evidence of the greatness of Humanity without the immaterial.
They reached the Pylon. “Where’s my Consort?”
“Waiting for you in his office,” said BondAH.
“His office?”
“Yes, your Grace.”
Aster scowled. The office was for business – his home office, obviously – and despite the fact that he had a perfectly good office, complete with staff, he often worked from the Pylon. He’d just never invited HER to his office. “Why does he want me here?”
“I do not know, your Grace.”
“Cut the ‘your Grace’, stuff, Master BondAH.”
“I will ‘cut the your Grace, stuff’, when you cut the Master stuff, ma’am.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Fine. I’ll call you Master, and you can call me ‘your Grace.”
BondAH stopped, touched the door chime and stepped back as it slid open.

Image: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/pv5BzHM3TJ8/hqdefault.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 341

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: Aura Vision – The ability to perceive normally invisible Life Energy of others, often colour-coded for good/evil, emotions, amount of life, Power Level, etc. This can be presented as Functional Magic, Psychic Powers, related to spirituality, a biological gift, or even technological.Current Event: (From my writer-niece’s blog: “This is because red was suddenly born in little jagged bursts along the horizon. Perhaps this is only something you can understand after months of upper Midwestern winter. The desaturated palettes of chickadee and snow shadow have a way of changing the mode of sight. Color might exist, but it is lost to us for a time. In March, first thaw we begin to retrain the eye. Light comes in  bursts, gives way to miles of camel colored grass, bursts of red– barn, flag, brick. The braided intestines of road kill bloom in an eagle’s beak. There is still no green save for pine boughs dulled to  rosemary gray.” https://lettersfromchurchofthetoastedcoconutdoughnut.wordpress.com/)
Eyvindur Mjöll pursed his lips and looked down at the handheld scanner in his hand. “I can’t make this do what I want...”
Pich Dara Sophana, leaned over the scanner and shook her head. He couldn’t see it as both of them wore surface suits. “It’s impossible because it’s so cold out.”
“I calibrated it for that,” he said. “Besides, it’s supposed to be warm enough now.”
“Original Humans were homeotherms – they’re going to still be.”

“We’re broad-spectrum eurytherms. But if I point the scanner at you,” he did. “Your aura is peculiar.”
Pich Dara sniffed. “Your aura is always peculiar. But I don’t blame your temperature regulation on that. You’re just weird.”
“Takes one to know one,” Eyvindur said. She started to speak, but he cut her off, “This isn’t about auras, anyway. I’m trying to find a way we can screen the people that are evolving on the surface to see if they can be reintroduced to the gene pool.”
“We don’t want to pollute the pool, either! It’s small enough as it is.”
Eyvindur headed up a trail that had been worn into the dusty surface. Since Earth had frozen nearly solid after the climate had gone into wild gyrations under pressure of Humans, the Sun, and geologic cycles. The evacuation to Mars – even using the massive instantaneous matter transmission gates that gave anyone a chance to move to the tiny, rusty, cold world of HG Wells’ imagination –was traumatic and over two billion stayed behind to take their chances on an planet attempting to find a balance again.
But Humanity changed. Something happened to both populations. There was talk that Humans had split into two new species...
Names: ♀ Khmer; ♂ Iceland                        
Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b1/3,2,1_blast-off!_(15871161250).jpg/511px-3,2,1_blast-off!_(15871161250).jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Common (and some UNCOMMON) Mistakes From the Slushpile

Using the Programme Guide of the World Science Fiction Convention in Helsinki Finland in August 2017 (to which I will be 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 Programme Guide. The link is provided below…

Clearly, I wasn’t there, but this person was AND took notes! So, many thanks to David Alex Lamb. His blog is here: http://davidalexlamb.blogspot.com/2017/08/thursday-at-worldcon-75.html
Common Mistakes from the Slushpile: Slushpile readers share their thoughts on what they have seen in the slushpiles! Come and learn to avoid the most common mistakes when submitting a story!
David Thomas Moore: commissioning editor for Abaddon BooksLaura Pearlman: author in Shimmer, Flash Fiction Online, Daily Science FictionDavid Pomerico: joined Harper Voyager US in Spring 2014 as Editorial Director, coming from Spectra, Del Rey, and 47NorthSam Bradbury: Science Fiction and Fantasy Editor at Hodder & Stoughton; previously worked for Jo Fletcher BooksMarcus Gipps: Commissioning Editor at Gollancz
“There was a lot on how editors and publishers deal with the slushpile (un-agented submissions), but also a bit of advice:”
My comment – all of these folks work with novels, so the applicability to short fiction, while similar I’m sure, isn’t exactly what I’m about. Hence, my own comments at the end!
1) Follow the submission rules on the publisher website, especially with regard to the genre or kind of submission they publish and the submission format they want (such as submitting a Word document).
My first thought is “duh”. Why WOULDN’T you follow an editor’s explicit guidelines? Then again, my own small experience with reading a bit of the slushpile for a magazine would bear CONSTANT repeating to would-be authors. The executive editor at SS was much more forgiving of this than I was. I wanted to read the manuscripts in any form of Word. People sent it in all sorts of formats that, when they appeared on my computer, took the shape of all kinds of weirdness. That automatically made it harder for the author to get past me. The story had to be totally and awesomely “stupefying” [which means:  shock, stun, astound, dumbfound, overwhelm, stagger, amaze, astonish, take aback, take someone's breath away] as opposed to “stupefying” [which means: stun, daze, knock unconscious, knock out, lay out, as in the Harry Potter magic spell]. Very rarely did any stories meet the first criterion. A truly stupefying number met the latter.
2) The first 3 pages are critical.
In a novel. In a short story, it’s a fair approximation of an aphorism that a short story writer has anywhere between the first sentence and the first paragraph to complete their mission of catching a reader’s attention. Novels have between three pages and the first chapter. After that, if you haven’t caught your reader, you’re toast.
3) Good ideas still require good writing.Why does this have to be said? Oh, that’s right, HOW many stories did I read that took a totally cool idea and proceeded to bore the bejeebers out of me? About a third of them. Because, quite frankly, the writing that came into SS was two thirds…frankly…awful.
“Oh, that’s because you’re a minimum pay market! What do you expect?”
Hmmm…based on a submissions website I use to track my own subs on, I find that the TOP paying markets…well, let me just share this: my favorite SF market, ANALOG Science Fiction & Fact: Acceptance rate = 3.61%. Clarkesworld (a PREMIUM market): Acceptance rate = 1.10%. The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction: Acceptance rate = .61%. Beneath Ceaseless Skies: Acceptance Rate = 4.4%. Any other you’d like to ask about? I can look it up and tell you. I can guarantee that these magazines see good ideas coupled with not-so-good writing.
4) Pace and plot have to be established in the first few pages.
Tougher to do than it is to write. What’s pace in a story? “…determines how quickly or how slowly the writer takes a reader through a story, explains Writer's Digest. The story itself determines the pace of the story. It relies on the combination of mood and emotion as these elements play out in the dialogue, setting and action.” (https://penandthepad.com/narrative-pace-3907.html). How about plot? Most simply it’s what happens in your story. In traditional storytelling, the plot is linear. In Speculative Fiction? Hmmm…depends on what kind of story you’re trying to tell! Michael F. Flynn’s novel EIFELHEIM takes place in the present and in 14th Century Germany, flipping back and forth between the two times; though within each TIME, the story is linear.
5) Tailor your cover letter to the publisher.
Again: “Duh.”
6) Avoid attacking other authors.
“Double duh.” If you go after some author (who is probably published), what’s the editor think is going to happen if they publish you and you don’t like something that happens? I wouldn’t say “avoid attacking authors”; I would say. “NEVER attack authors.”
7) You don’t need a big social media presence to submit. [“(at least to the panelists; I`ve heard other editors say they always check social media). One contradicted an agent I heard, saying you don’t need to compare your work to the market (the editor can do that better).”]
This is interesting and to tell you the truth, not something I can comment on with surety. What I CAN say is that when I start this blog almost eight years ago, I had roughly a thousand site visits per month. Now, taking into account the absurd hits by spambots, I average roughly double that. Some months more, a few less. I don’t have a huge platform, but I don’t have a novel to build a fan base. I have short stories, an ancient (1991 publication date) collection of children’s sermons, and a few other odds and ends. My platform pretty much consists of my friends and curious students from Young Author’s Conferences and my Writing to Get Published classes, and places I have taught in over the past ten years.
That’s what I’d say I gathered from the brief overview provided by the website
I’ve been a Slushpile reader for several years, on-and-off, for STUPEFYING STORIES (http://stupefyingstories.com/). Here are a couple of things I would share from that experience:
SOMETHING has to happen in a story!Whatever the character was doing had to make sense.I have to somehow connect with a character.The story has to have clearly important events.Write a story that will “stick in my mind”.
Anything else anyone wants to add? Otherwise, have a great day!
Program Book: https://sites.grenadine.co/sites/worldcon75/en/w75/schedule
Image: https://tihiw.files.wordpress.com/2016/07/screen-shot-2016-07-12-at-11-32-36-am.png

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION 79 The Trials of Group Three

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 Xiomara; 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)
“All right, everyone back down the tunnel. Team Two, get ready to head for the surface. Xurf, take one of the others with you and let them hear your destination directions. Only two of you.” Retired gave me a look. Irritated? Offended? Nah, I suddenly realized, respect. I ignored it. “Just don’t both of you get killed.” Xurf fell back into her four-footed form and trotted after Retired. The Yown’Hoo Zei-go followed. Already I could see growth in the Yown’Hoo. Those who earned responsibility grew larger, tapping the subcutaneous fat stores. It already looked leaner, faster.
When they got back to what was left of the group, I nodded to Xurf and she led them up the tunnel then to the surface. The sounds of their feet scrabbling on the concrete faded. Another second and there was a metallic shriek followed by a tremendous crash.
Lieutenant Commander Bakhsh (ret) looked over at me but didn’t say a word. My Great Uncle Rion did the same. I opened my mouth, looked at the door to the surface, and closed it.
“Oscar?” said Retired.
“Uh, yeah?”
“What’s next?”
“Uh…” the Triad that remained, them, Da0-hi, Lan-ma-ti, Por-go-el, Xio, Seg-go, Ali-go, Nah-hi-el, and me…still had to keep moving. We could still be caught by…whoever was following us. I started off and what remained of the Triad followed. I slowed until I was walking beside Retired. The others passed me and when she did, I said to Xio, “Your team is up to the surface next. Lead the group. Great Uncle Rion, would you walk with her and help her with strategy? Retired and I will catch up with you.”
She gave me a weird look. For a second, I didn’t know what she was going to say. Nothing, it turns out. She nodded and moved ahead with her typical long-legged stride. For a moment, I forgot she was my sister – practically speaking – and noticed she looked more than strong. More than smart. More than…
“Down, boy,” said Retired next to me.
“What?” I started, walking to catch up with him.
“There’s no time for that. You’re running for your lives…” he shook his head and said, “Adolescents,” like it was a curse.
I sighed. He’d seen my reaction when I was standing in front of him being scanned for electronic or bioelectronic bugs. I knew what I felt about Fax. “Yeah,” I said. “Hell.” He gave me a look then a smirk. “The map. I want to see if I remember it. We were sort of in a hurry when you tossed it up on the windshield.”
“You have an eidetic memory.”
“True. But I don’t think I just want to trust to memory when everyone is counting on me to lead them.” He suddenly slapped me on the shoulder. “What was that for?” I blurted.
Nodding, he said, “Proud of you, kid. Now. Tell me what you remember.”
I rolled my shoulder like he’d hurt me, but the truth of it was that it had felt good. Like he trusted me. Weird, I know. But there you go. “Before I do though, tell me what you think of my guess.” Thinking about the map ever since we got underground, there were three odd markings on it. “At the exit of each of the tunnels they’re taking, I saw three little marks. Characters.” We kept walking for a while. If what I guessed was wrong, Retired would laugh at me and I’d lose whatever good feelings he had for me. But if I was right, then this whole “running away” thing wasn’t what it appeared to be.
“Well?”
“One was the Kii Basic character for Old Pack. That’s Group One’s mission; that’s why you sent Qap, Qilf, and Towt. They’re going to meet up with a Pack ally living on Earth.” He didn’t say anything. “OK, I’ll take that as a yes. Group Two…there wasn’t any symbol there, so I’m going to suggest that they’re going to get some form of transportation that can take all of us to Grendl. And be able to defend us. Probably made by the Kiiote.” He still didn’t speak, walking alongside me. “Xio’s leading the third group and there was a Chinese character for Master next to their exit. Group four is led by Dao-hi, and as near I could figure there was a word in Y’eh 2349, I’m pretty sure meant ‘Primeval’. These are the Organizers.” Retired hummed but carefully did not nod or give any other sign of either approval. “And I leave at the end. Alone.” A grunt. “To do something…”
Retired said abruptly, “You’ll find out when it’s time.” Then he lengthened his stride and I had to run to catch up.
It was a long and boring hike and somewhere in the middle of it, when we stopped to sleep, Retired disappeared. Just like that, he was gone. I should have known he would do this. All that approval stuff was just a set up to get me to lead the Triad – what was left of us. Once we got to the surface exit, me and Xio – and the younger Herd members had hashed out their pecking order. GURion refused to help me lead, it wasn’t like Retired. It had its own agenda. So the departure of Group Three was sort of dark thing for me. I’d be the last Human in the group with a robot, the Herd Mother Dao-hi, and two of the youngest Herd members.
The only startling part was that Xio kissed me before she left. Absolutely NOT like a sister. After we pulled apart, she also punched me in the chest and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, ‘Car, but I’m pretty sure you’re not my type.” She paused, “I might be interested in older me.” She gave me a dirty leer, adding, “Much older men.”
Then she led her team up the tunnel to the surface.
****
Xio found the ladder leading up and shook her head. “How the hell are you supposed to climb this?”
Seg-go and Ali-go, males who held equivalent rank in the Herd, often spoke at the same time, which resulted in them hip-checking each other until one of them managed to knock the other over. Xio snapped, “Enough! Seg-go, you speak for both of you! We don’t have time to decide rank right now. After our first night stop, I’ll let you two battle it out, but now I’m making an executive call.”
Ali-go pulled it’s tentacles free, ready to fight, but Xio landed a kick on the side of his head before he could even raise them up to do battle with Seg-go. “I said wait. Then, if you want me to kick you some more, I’d be happy to figure out which one of us is stronger.”
The Yown’Hoo backed down, sheathing its tentacles and crouching some in front of his brother. Nah-hi-el was still small and fast – but had nothing approaching their rank in the Herd. It was lucky that it was still alive and it knew it.
Seg-go said, “I can see a side tunnel here. Send the least into it to see where it leads.”
Xio nodded, and said, “Go.”
The small Yown’Hoo dug its claws into the earth and ran. They could hear it scrambling for some time. Shortly it returned. “It is a much disused ramp and my stronger brothers will of need go on first joint to move freely, but it exits in a large, Human built room.”
Xio said, “We go. Now. We have no time to waste. I will lead.” She ducked into the tunnel, glad she wasn’t any taller than she was. All she needed to do was crouch. ‘Car would have had to crawl. Retired…she cut off that line of thought. He was an old man. Probably would have had to slither, getting all muddy. And wet. She swallowed hard and led her team upward and into an abandoned storage room to find a door with no handle.

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