Andrew Moore's Blog, page 146
September 21, 2021
The Latest Trends
The time is not yet right for them to change.
Time Really Is a Wheel
They fired an actor before the show aired? The modern world sure moves fast.
September 20, 2021
The Sideways Tower
When they sent me to serve in the Hospital of the Sideways Tower, they said I might hear some interesting stories. I don't think my brothers meant to deceive. They simply didn't realize that almost none of those concerned had any intention of talking about the problems that sent them there.
That was all referring to those who came for the peculiar feature, of course. The normal travelers and denizens of scattered villages came and went too. They made up most of our traffic. I was no more or less busy there than I would have been at any of our other hospitals. The stories I heard were no more or less common or interesting, either.
Indeed, the first sign of someone in need of the special service was usually a reluctance to talk at all. A typical supplicant, if I cast my mind back, picked his way past the usual crowd and the servants over to me, the obvious priest. "I, uh, heard . . . that is, I was given to understand . . ." That was what one particular man I remember mumbled, but most of them brought it up in a similar manner.
I inclined my head toward the side door and led the way. A few decided not to follow me, but the usual type didn't back down so easily. It might have saved a lot of trouble for them if their personalities had allowed them to. I walked over to the base, or rather the right, of the great non-tower and waited by the door with my keys out. When the supplicant caught up, I confirmed the situation.
"Do you desire to be comforted? The relief will be only for your heart. Nothing will change in your material circumstances." I don't recall a single person turning back there. I held up the tower ring and removed one of the two keys. "This is the external key. The other is the internal. Take that one and return it to me at the exit." I unlocked the door, prayed for the supplicant's success, and locked the door behind the entrant.
For me, the walk over to what should have been the top of the tower, would have been if the builders had realized their intentions, made for a pleasant evening stroll. What it meant for the supplicant, who knows? They didn't like to talk about it. I waited, took back the key, and led them back. They rarely seemed happy, but they usually stopped mumbling and looking at their feet. I suppose I could have felt superior to them because I had never failed a great enterprise, or inferior because I had never attempted one, but I had been called, and I was content.
Finis
That was all referring to those who came for the peculiar feature, of course. The normal travelers and denizens of scattered villages came and went too. They made up most of our traffic. I was no more or less busy there than I would have been at any of our other hospitals. The stories I heard were no more or less common or interesting, either.
Indeed, the first sign of someone in need of the special service was usually a reluctance to talk at all. A typical supplicant, if I cast my mind back, picked his way past the usual crowd and the servants over to me, the obvious priest. "I, uh, heard . . . that is, I was given to understand . . ." That was what one particular man I remember mumbled, but most of them brought it up in a similar manner.
I inclined my head toward the side door and led the way. A few decided not to follow me, but the usual type didn't back down so easily. It might have saved a lot of trouble for them if their personalities had allowed them to. I walked over to the base, or rather the right, of the great non-tower and waited by the door with my keys out. When the supplicant caught up, I confirmed the situation.
"Do you desire to be comforted? The relief will be only for your heart. Nothing will change in your material circumstances." I don't recall a single person turning back there. I held up the tower ring and removed one of the two keys. "This is the external key. The other is the internal. Take that one and return it to me at the exit." I unlocked the door, prayed for the supplicant's success, and locked the door behind the entrant.
For me, the walk over to what should have been the top of the tower, would have been if the builders had realized their intentions, made for a pleasant evening stroll. What it meant for the supplicant, who knows? They didn't like to talk about it. I waited, took back the key, and led them back. They rarely seemed happy, but they usually stopped mumbling and looking at their feet. I suppose I could have felt superior to them because I had never failed a great enterprise, or inferior because I had never attempted one, but I had been called, and I was content.
Finis
September 18, 2021
Adaptation Corner
Every single fantasy book could be turned into a side-scrolling beat 'em up and both industries would be enriched. The science fiction ones too.
September 17, 2021
Emergency Plot Q&A
Q: I can't figure out what the bad guys are after in my scifi story!
A: Combat data
Q: Now I'm not sure what the good guys are after.
A: Combat data
A: Combat data
Q: Now I'm not sure what the good guys are after.
A: Combat data
September 16, 2021
Follow a New Path
The next time you write "alchemy," cross it out and write in "palchemy." Isn't that more pleasant for all of us? Erase the first three letters of "necromancy" also. Stop doing the same old thing, and do a slightly different old thing instead.
September 15, 2021
Addendum
Unfortunately Rangello Archman is only a 7/10, but that is not relevant to the example.
September 14, 2021
An Easy Way to Provide Character Descriptions
Instead of trying to come up with twenty different ways to say "blond" or "brunette," just give all your characters a ratings. For example: "Rangello Archman entered the room. He was an 8/10 easy, maybe a 9." This will save us all a lot of time we can use to watch edits of Simpsons jokes.
September 13, 2021
Q&A
Q. Why hasn't pumpkincore taken off yet?
A. The time is not yet right.
A. The time is not yet right.
Terror in Space
"Administrator Hadley! Terrible news!"
The administrator eyed Secretary Anderson from behind a desk polished till it gleamed that then held the latest report on the space colony IX Tucker's outer shell integrity. "What's the matter, Anderson? Your transfer request was turned down?"
"Yes, but that's not it! There have been sightings in the Industrial District . . . of Ghost Tank!"
Donald Hadley shot out of his chair and slammed his hands on the desk. "Ghost Tank! Are you sure?"
"Can we afford to be sure?
"You're right. We have to act now. Seal off the entire sector and open the bulkheads. We'll shoot Ghost Tank," he said as he slammed his right fist into his open left hand, "straight into space."
"But Administrator, haven't you heard? Ghost Tank . . . RULES SPACE."
Hadley stumbled backward, fear written on his bloodless face. "Then we have no choice. We must evacuate." He opened a panel on his desk and pressed the button underneath. Alarms began to bleat throughout IX Tucker. "This station now belongs to Ghost Tank. Let's go, Anderson."
On their way to the hangar, the two men could speak of only one thing. "Your transfer request was turned down too, huh?"
"That's right, Anderson. That's right."
Finis
The administrator eyed Secretary Anderson from behind a desk polished till it gleamed that then held the latest report on the space colony IX Tucker's outer shell integrity. "What's the matter, Anderson? Your transfer request was turned down?"
"Yes, but that's not it! There have been sightings in the Industrial District . . . of Ghost Tank!"
Donald Hadley shot out of his chair and slammed his hands on the desk. "Ghost Tank! Are you sure?"
"Can we afford to be sure?
"You're right. We have to act now. Seal off the entire sector and open the bulkheads. We'll shoot Ghost Tank," he said as he slammed his right fist into his open left hand, "straight into space."
"But Administrator, haven't you heard? Ghost Tank . . . RULES SPACE."
Hadley stumbled backward, fear written on his bloodless face. "Then we have no choice. We must evacuate." He opened a panel on his desk and pressed the button underneath. Alarms began to bleat throughout IX Tucker. "This station now belongs to Ghost Tank. Let's go, Anderson."
On their way to the hangar, the two men could speak of only one thing. "Your transfer request was turned down too, huh?"
"That's right, Anderson. That's right."
Finis
