Matthew S. Williams's Blog, page 179

Whiskey Delta – Chapter 25

“War should be the only study of a prince. He should consider peace only as a breathing-time, which gives him leisure to contrive, and furnishes as ability to execute, military plans.”

-Niccolo Machiavelli

The last of the sun had set. The sky was filled with stars. Braun watched the open doorway from his spot on the floor, his bag pulled up to his waist, leaving his still-armored upper body free. Around him, all the other members of his squad were sleeping soundly. The evacuees were doing the same in the next room on their procured mattresses.

He breathed an easy sigh, the first he’d experienced in days. Everything seemed in order, everything taken care of. The motion detectors were all in position, the M18′s and V69′s all planted in the field, ad the Stryker had been parked in the building basement, the entrance grate welded shut so nothing could wander in. There was nothing left to do now but relax and wait for morning.

This must be what it feels like to put the house to bed. He looked forward to that someday, to a home, kids and a woman. When the process of putting an end to the day didn’t involve land mines, perimeters and terrible creatures wandering in the night.

And yet, nothing had tripped their sensors. The hour was getting early, and it appeared as though it might be safe to drift off after all. He was sure he’d regret it, always seemed to follow that permission to drop one’s guard was followed inevitably by a boot in the ass. But his eyes would not be denied any longer, and closed themselves shut. His head became heavy and lay back against the bag’s foam pillow. He let off a small grunt of fatigue and felt himself slowly drift.

Just a few minutes, and he would be with the others. Somewhere better than this…

*                    *                    *

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant, wake up!”

Braun rolled onto his side and checked his watch. The faint traces of another time and place receded from his mind, becoming blurry and opaque as he tried to retain them. Standing in the shadowy crevice, the taste of cool water in his mouth, looking out at a sky so blue it was heartbreaking. As soon as he got to one knee, it was forgotten, the cruel numbers on his wrist the only thing that mattered.

“One hour… one fucking hour.”

“What’s that, sir?”

He looked up and saw Saunder’s face. He blinked hard to clear the mucus from his eyes. “Nothing… what is it, Corporal?”

“The outer marker has been tripped. We got Whiskeys in the park.”

Braun nodded. One hour of sleep, time enough for a single dream, and they had come. He couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming of, but remembered suspecting this would happen. Always too much to expect a night of solid sleep while on an op.

“Alright, rouse the squad.”

“They’re already in position, sir. We’re ready and waiting.”

Braun grunted. And he was the last to wake on top of everything else. He found his SCAR in the corner and slung it over his shoulder. His helmet came next, which lit up the moment he strapped it on. The bright display appeared in his field of vision, the Night Vision coming on a second later. He connected the scope up and proceeded to the window.

He found Dezba leaning against the wall. His own display glowed green in his visor. He pointed to the field below and keyed his comm.

“Looks like just a few,” he said. “Couple stragglers looking for a meal. Probably thought they could snag themselves a deer.”

“Got a taste for venison, huh?” Braun nodded and raised his scope. He spotted the target below. Three wandering in close relation to each other, their eyes wide and glowing a bright shade of green.

“We might be okay,” said Cobb from his other side. “As long as they keep wandering straight ahead, they won’t trip anything.”

“An explosion will attract any others they got in the area.”

Braun nodded to both of them in turn. A perfect appraisal of the situation. On their current course, they would walk clear through the park and head off down the side street. But if they converged on the building, for whatever reason, they would likely trip one of the Claymores or Valmaras they had set up in the twilight. Hell, even if they did a little ambling a few feet from their current position, and they would set off a fragmentation or bounding mine. A quick flash, followed by hundreds of ball bearings or pieces of tiny shrapnel from ground level or overhead.

It would make for a good show, but the light and noise would be an irresistible draw. The one thing they couldn’t resist, aside from the smell of raw flesh, was bright lights and loud noises. Was it pure animal instinct, or an innate awareness that these things were indicative of human activity? Smart money said the odds were about even these days. No one could tell…

Saunders appeared next to him a second later, her sniper rifle resting butt-down on the floor. Next to her crouching body, it looked ridiculously bulky, the kind of thing no one would expect a woman her size to wield. And yet, she had it locked and ready, prepared to cut anything that got in their way to pieces.

“Sir, should I set up?”

Braun looked at the barrel of the gun, noting the excessively large bore of the thing. “One shot and every Whiskey will be here in under a minute.”

“Might be that way as it is,” said Cobb.

“They trip any munitions, it’s that much less for when the rest of them come. Might make sense to stir em up, lure them into an attack instead of waiting for it to happen on its own.”

Braun glared at Dezba angrily. It wasn’t good strategy to encourage a confrontation, but in the event that one should prove inevitable, it made sense to ensure that they it came quick and with minimal impact on their defenses. Still…

“I’d rather not assume anything, Sergeant. Saunders, set up but you hold your fire until I say otherwise.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and moved to the next room to grab a spot at the other window. Braun took a deep breath and raised his scope again. They were still moving down there, wandering aimlessly around in seeming circles. He couldn’t tell what was driving them, perhaps they were following the scent of deer droppings. Maybe they were picking up on some traces of their sweat and musk from earlier. Even suited up, there must have left some traces. Nobody knew exactly how acute their senses were…

Saunders came in over the comms. “Got em in my sights, sir.”

“Standby,” he ordered. He looked over to Dezba. He spotted the detonator in his hands. One click and all the C4 they had planted around the outer ring of the park would go up. Not until it was flooded with Whiskeys though, as planned.

Saunders came back on the comm. “Movement at the perimeter, sir. Spotting seven more Whiskeys.”

“Shit.” Braun stood up and aimed his scope out the balcony door. He scanned from left to right, seeing the faces of the dead wandering into their sector. They were moving at a perpendicular angle, passing onto the grassy field and through the shrubs. Within a few minutes, they would be in the exact same position as the others.

“That makes ten,” he said. Still not enough to justify expending their munitions, but they were clearly being drawn by a common source. Cobb and Dezba began donating their two cents on the subject.

“Looks like a party’s brewing, sir.”

“One would think they were expecting somebody to greet them.”

Braun smiled and keyed the comm. “Kobayashi, Mill. How do things look down there?”

Mill replied from the lobby. “We’re all set sir. Nobody’s getting in without our say so.”

Braun drew a breath of reassurance. Between their mines, the perimeter, Kobayashi’s grenade launcher and Mill’s SAW, nobody was getting inside.

“More movement, sir.”

Braun scanned to the edge of the field where the last of them came from. Nothing.

“Where?”

“South-west corner, sir.”

He corrected his aim, saw the dozen or so who were coming from that angle.

“Party indeed,” said Dezba. He raised the detonator and nodded to Braun.

“Wait…” Braun said with a raised hand. They did, but every second that passed now as interminable, waiting on a possibility that seemed less and less likely with every second that passed.

“Why the hell are they all coming here?” said Saunders through the comm.

“Could be their hunting grounds…”

“Could be their expecting Beaumont and his men to shoot at them.”

Braun considered that. Seemed downright stupid, but far smarter creatures than the Whiskeys had been known to be creatures of habit. And this habit seemed to be drawing more than its fair share of participants. Saunders keyed the mike again to announce more coming.

“Where?” he asked.

“From the north, the side street running perpendicular. Twenty or more.”

Dezba sighed heavily and raised his mask. Braun did the same. Privileged communique time.

“Sir, are we still concerned about not drawing Whiskeys to the area?”

He noted the tone in his voice. He had been bitter since their last conversation. But any fool could see he was right. Whether they wanted it or not, a confrontation was brewing. The only question now was whether or not to facilitate it or wait for it to happen.

“How many of them are in range?”

Dezba closed his helmet and looked below to do a quick survey. He turned his HUD’s night vision on again to get a better look at the numbers of bright green eyes wandering around in the park. “Not enough. The main bulk is still hanging around to the south-west and the north.”

“Alright.” Braun put up his scar and slid the grenade launcher open, popped a M203 from his vest, checking to make sure it had the blue top. Didn’t want to stir things up too much, not before Dezba unleashed hell on them.

“Sir?”

He slid the launcher shut and got to his feet. “Just be ready, Sergeant. I’m going to draw more of them to you.”

Carefully, he stepped to the open door. Any farther out and he would alert them to his presence, which at the moment was unwanted. He needed as many of them as possible converging on the spot he picked for them. His aim had to be perfect. Raising the launcher to just above waist height and angling it upwards, he pulled the front trigger and absorbed the small air burst recoil.

A barely audible grunt was heard below. Returning to the window, he raised his scope and began surveying again. In the field, just a few feet from where their first line of defense had been planted, a small plume of grainy smoke began to appear. Those Whiskeys that were closest to it began to take an interest, the hissing noise and gathering cloud disturbing their senses. One by one, they began to converge. Farther out, the crowds were slow to take notice; but soon, they too began to converge on spot where the smoke grenade had landed.

Dezba keyed his comm. “Nice work, sir. The crowds beginning to converge.”

“Give em a few seconds, Sergeant. Wait for as many as possible to cross the outer line.”

Dezba didn’t need to be told. He raised the detonator and kept his thumb poised and erect. From their window, from the next room, and from the lobby, every member of their squad watched and waited as the Whiskeys all began to wander into the thick of the brush, searching for the source of activity that had pierced the silence. The seconds stretched on, each one longer than the the one before. Every breath strained, every finger itched, and every nerve tightened to the point of fraying completely. Hearts pumped and skin turned cold, poised and waiting for the last second when it would all blaze up in a bright instant.

“Do it!”

Dezba’s thumb descended…

*                    *                    *

Beneath them, obscured by the smoke, a rotting mound of flesh and teeth stumbled upon an open canister, lifted it to his face to see what was producing the noise and ugly blue smoke. It growled as the smoke blew in its face, the container providing to be nothing more than solid, unappetizing metal. Slowly, its angry wail of confusion spread outwards amongst its brethren, each of them moving forward in the hopes of finding fresh, tasty flesh to gnaw on.

Tossing it down, the creature began to wander outwards, seeking the source of the tiny thing that had landed in its world. It saw so many standing about it now, all drawn in from the expectation that more fire and lights would be happening tonight. More smells of wonderful flesh, musky fur, animals that bounded when they approached and the ones who spit fire. Night after night they came, seeking out those hurtful ones who kept burning and piercing them. Night after night, they hoped to finally get a hold of them and break them to pieces, feed on their delicious limbs.

He wandered out with speed, moving to the others that were moving in. His growls of anger stoked them, sending them away from him in all directions. Where… where… Somewhere, the things that smelled so good were to be found. They would be here tonight, as they were every night. They foraged back and forth through the grass and sharp twigs, pushing through all barriers to stomp out what was surely hiding on them. Looking for the smells, looking for the noise, looking for the lights that drew them to their lair…

And when they reached the edge of the soft ground, another noise came. A sound from far off, short and decisive.

And then a loud click, near and threatening.

The world went bright… very, very bright…

Robonauts

A robot and an astronaut shake hands… That might sound like the set up for a really cheesy joke, but in fact, it was a moment in history. Back in February of this year, a first occurred when Daniel Burbank. the commander of the International Space Station, shook hands with the first ever Robonaut. Controlled by ground crews, and currently lacking in full-body motion – they aint got no legs! – this does represent a big step forward in robotics.

As things stand, it is not yet clear if this represents a plan to “unman” space, or just supplement astronauts with humanoid machines that are capable of performing rote tasks and the more labor intensive aspects of space travel. But given the fact that space travel still requires adaptation and flexibility as much as calculations and precision, and that no amount of remote control can equal the thrill of actually being there, I’m thinking human astronauts are going to be around for a long time.

Check out this video of the Robonaut and Burbank making their historic handshake!

Source: CNET.com

Whiskey Delta – Chapter 24

“Look at an infantryman’s eyes and you can tell how much war he has seen.”

- Bill Mauldin, “Up Front”, 1944

Braun stepped out onto the balcony and keyed his comm. The Stryker was visible just beyond the edge of the park, the small crater where the missile hit ten meters away.

“Stryker, this is alpha team. What’s your status, over?”

“We’re sitting pretty, sir,” Dezba replied. “We started getting worried when we didn’t hear any shooting, over.”

Braun might have smiled, were he not entirely fixated on the horizon. The sun was beginning to in the western sky, painting the buildings in a brilliant orange glow. What little bits of intel they were able to get from Beaumont and his men 0 that which could be called intelligible – said that the Whiskeys in this sector also liked to attack at night. Which meant the hoards would be coming.

That much Beaumont was able to convey quite clearly, not to mention his intense enthusiasm that someone else would be standing watch in his stead.

“We’ve taken three friendlies up here, and the intel we’ve gathered indicates that we can expect company tonight.”

A short pause on the other end. “Sounds familiar…”

Braun did smile this time. It was good to see Dezba back in the game, catching the important details.

“We’re going to put down for the night. Squad’s going to set camp up here, which means you boys need to extricate and get your butts up here.”

“And the vehicle?”

“Bring her to the lobby, lock her down. I’m sending Cobb and Mill help bring up supplies. Food, water, thermal bags. You know the drill.”

Another pause. “You find out who those people were, one’s who were shooting at us?”

Braun hesitated for a second in reply. It wasn’t something he wanted to convey over the air. “Just get your butts up here. Everything will be made clear in time.”

“Roger that, we’re Oscar Mike.”

He watched the Stryker pull forward and mount the curb. Whitman drove to the base of the building and performed a hard left, disappearing beneath the balcony. Braun turned around and stepped back inside. The three blue and greys were seating strategically throughout the room now. Saunders went back and forth, asking the two grunts basic questions while Kobayashi checked on the status of their health. All seemed in good enough health, at least physically. Mentally, all appeared to be holding on now, but weeks of being stranded had taken their toll.

That was another thing the Sergeant had conveyed once his spirits began to improve. Their unit had reached the area almost a month ago, judging from the date of their deployment. They had flown clear from Virginia, landing along the way to refuel at any airbase that was still operational. Once they arrived, things began to go bit awry. The details had been sketchy at first, the process proving quite difficult for the Sergeant to recount.

Some of it confirmed what he already suspected. The chopper set down shortly after sunset. The team deployed and began sweeping the area, looking for someone. Again, only the Captain knew who, and he had a device for identifying him, a box of some kind. However, the team was soon beset by an small group of Whiskeys. They had taken them out, but that only seemed to draw more, and more, and more…

They tried to fall back, but their chopper was already compromised. The pilot had attempted to rendezvous with them in an empty street, but as soon as his gears touched down, Whiskeys poured out of the woodwork. Next thing they knew, he was lifting off again, but crashed shortly thereafter. The Captain had ordered them to retreat, and fell not long after that. By morning, the Sergeant and four others were all that was left of a team that started out as twelve strong. They found their way to the chopper and grabbed as much ammo and supplies as they could. Their transmitter had been destroyed, but they were certain a rescue would come eventually.

And so they took to the nearest bit of high ground they could and waited. Their numbers had dwindled to three, the others succumbing to attacks, sickness, exposure, simply disappearing. Those that remained simply held out as best they could, fighting off the demons whenever they came, subsisting on C-rations and what water they could collect. At some point, they had given up hope of making it out. But rather than choose the coward’s path, they all agreed to go down fighting, spending every last breath and weapon they had until finally, the darkness closed in.

And then of course, we showed up…

Naturally, Beaumont’s spotty account of things also raised as many questions as it solved. For starters, his version of events occurred since the last team had been on scene and implanted Mr. Harmonn with the tracking device. From the way he described it, it didn’t sound like their CO was using a PDA or facial recognition software either. Beaumont’s description left little doubt that he was using the same tracker they were.

Which meant that HMS was also looking to harvest Harmonn, and were planning on it before the Mage and the Colonel were. But neither had mentioned anything about another mission or a fallen bird. The Colonel had been forthcoming about the tagging team that didn’t make it out. So why stay silent on these guys? Unless, she didn’t know about them…

Dezba and Whitman came through the door a moment later, followed by Mill and Cobb, their arms heavily laden with kit. They used the crates to unload the food and water, tossing the bags on the floor. Dezba and Whitman took the opportunity to survey the room, since this was the first time they had set foot in it.

“Holy fuck, man. We’re a long way from the Shangri La.”

“At least we got a window now. Won’t have to deal with your greasy farts anymore.”

Saunders was standing close by. She looked to Braun and shook her head. Slowly, she was catching on to the dynamics of their situation. It didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

As soon as they were unloaded, Braun waved Dezba over and stepped out onto the balcony with him. The squad was all assembled, and it was time to discuss a few things.

“What’s on your mind, LT?”

He looked out to the skyline, encouraged Dezba to do the same. He didn’t want others able to listen in or infer what they were talking about. First up, there was the matter of their rescue.

“These men are coming with us. Which means our mission profile has changed. We need to replan our exfil.”

“Yes, sir.”

One down. Next came the matter of digging in.

“We’re putting down for the night. We’ll need to secure this building, just in case some Whiskeys manage to find their way in. M18′s, motion sensors, the whole lot. Tomorrow morning we set out and take down Papa Zulu.”

“Yes, sir.”

And now, the final matter that needed to discussed. The one he had been holding back on until now.

“As commanding officer, I need to know that every member of my unit is working up to par. I got three people right now who are strung out and ready to snap, so I don’t need anyone in my squad making me nervous. You catch me?”

Dezba didn’t respond so quickly this time. There was no sense in broaching it nicely, and any roundabout talk would surely lead to denials and the usual shit. He had seen it enough times before to know that the only way to deal with it was to work fast, yank the band aid quickly. Let them know that their problem was a matter of public safety and not something they could keep to themselves.

“If something happened Sarge, or if your hiding something, you need to let it go. Don’t care what you do with it, just make sure it doesn’t get in the way.”

Dezba began to fidget. His feet wanted to move, but they were in too tight a space to be pacing. Instead, he just shifted back and forth, gave the fence a light kick. He looked down at his boots, checked his gun. Anything to keep from making eye contact. Anything to keep from feeling exposed.

It had to be bad, Braun knew. Something real bad. Nothing so mundane as sneaking pills or being drunk on the job. No, this was something far, far worse. Suddenly, he was regretting saying he didn’t care. Just a nicety anyway, something to let him know he didn’t need to explain himself. But dammit if he wasn’t curious…

“Are we clear, Sergeant?” He said finally.

Dezba cleared his throat and looked up at him. Nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You got this, soldier?”

“I got this, sir.”

Braun patted him on the shoulder. “Good. Because unless the Sergeant lied to me, we’re in for one hell of a night.”

Dezba lost his look of discomfort. Slowly, his head and Braun’s turned west.

To the skyline…

To the setting sun…

To a night filled with milky white globes and rotting teeth…

Aerospace Flight!

To say that Richard Branson is an eccentric billionaire or oddball visionary would be the understatement of the century. Though not formally educated in business or economics, he’s got a knack for investing in new and relevant things, and always seems to be able to turn a profit while doing it. So it’s little wonder then why he started Virgin Galactic, a private aerospace company that is offering patrons their first shot at sub-orbital flights.

The idea commercial space ships has been in development for some time, with Branson committing a great deal of his empire’s investment capital and research funds towards this end. In 2008, these efforts bore fruit with the first flight of the White Knight Two launcher craft, known officially as the VMS Eve. This plane, also known as a “mothership”, is a four-engine, twin-fuselage craft with an extended wing base and two air crews. As the name suggests, it acts as a launching platform for the aerospace vehicle itself, which deploys once the WK2 is fully airborne.

Then, in December of 2009, Virgin unveiled the suborbital space ship, known as SpaceShip Two. Ever since 2004, Branson’s company ran test flights using a smaller model, but decided to upgrade to a larger, twin-pilot model for long-term commercial use. By February 2012, SpaceShipTwo had completed 15 test flights and an additional 16 glide tests, the last of which took place in September 2011.

In the end, the process is pretty simple and borrows from NASA’s long-standing practice of launching their space shuttles by piggybacking them onto commercial craft. In this case, the process involves the WK2 flying the SS2 to deployment altitude where it will then be released and take over its own flight using its rocket engines. The SS2 will then fly to an altitude of 100 km (330,000 feet) above see level. After performing a circuit in near-zero gravity, it will deploy its wings and glide back to Earth.

No firm schedule has been given as to when commercial flights will commence, but given the pace at which things are moving, it would not be farfetched to think that they are likely to begin before the decade is out. In addition, no word has been given on when exactly it will affordable for the vast majority of people to use this service, or when aerospace terminals will be built into existing international airports.

As it stands, tickets for the maiden voyage go for a whopping $200,000 US or £121,000, and 400 seats have already been spoken for, largely by public figures and international tycoons. The flight will be two hours end-to-end, and will involve six minutes of weightlessness once its reaches maximum altitude. Seems like a lot of money for something that only lasts six minutes; but hey, people have spent way more on far less!

Also, check out the promotional video from Virgin Galactic’s own website. I think you’ll agree, though they may oversell the significance of this by just a bit, the production values are still pretty damn good!

Source, Now Available for Free until Nov.1st!

Good news everybody! At least, that’s how Professor Farnsworth would put it. My first novel, entitled Source, is now available for free through Smashwords until November 1st. As my first work of fictioni, it deals with a concept very near and dear to my heart: apocalyptic sci-fi!

In fact, the entire novel was inspired by a short story project I did with my old writer’s group – The Herscher Project – back in 2005. The theme was dark futures, and I used the opportunity to experiment with an idea that was kind of big news for the time.

If interested, go by Smashwords.com and download Source for your Kindle or ereader. Be sure to enter the coupon code: KY62K in the appropriate box, and get your copy for free! Note the old school cover, I’ve since updated that of course.

Arcology and Climate Change

The other day, I finally got around to dedicating a post to Paolo Soleri and the concept of Arcology, something which has fascinated me for some time. But of course, I couldn’t do justice to it all in just one post, so rather than mention every example for arcologies that I could find, I chose a select few and planned to talk about the others later. You wouldn’t believe the amount of information that I’ve found since!

Initially, I thought only a few architecture firms and city planners were considering 3-D cities; but as it turns out, there are a dozen plans under consideration and more coming every day! From New Orleans to Haiti, from Shanghai to Dubai, the world abounds with plans for possible future cities that will take advantage of 3-D planning, sustainable resource management and green technology. This last aspect is key, seeing as how the vast majority of these plans are all inspired by one thing: Climate Change!

Take this concept for example: the Lillypad City. A revolutionary idea designed for dealing with the worst ravages of climate change in the coming decades, the LC is basically a floating city that is immune to things like coastal flooding and rising sea levels. According to many worst-case scenarios, these are expected to rise in excess of a meter by 2030. Coastal areas will be flooded and entire islands will disappear beneath the waves, leaving millions homeless and displaced. The Lillypad City is a possible solution: a self-contained environment built along coastal shelves and harbors, capable of supporting 50,000 people in an environment that’s ecologically friendly.

A similar concept is NOAH – or New Orleans Arcology Habitation, designed by Kevin Schopfer . An aptly named structure, NOAH is a proposed solution of what to do about coastal flooding and the ongoing problem of rebuilding New Orleans. At over 90oo square kilometers and designed to hold 40,000 residents, the pyramid shaped arcology will also boast shopping centers, 3 hotels, 1,500 timeshare units, parking for 8,000 cars, cultural spaces, public works, schools, an administrative office, and a health care facility.

All of this built upon a floating base with an open-wall structure, which will make it resistant to all forms of weather and immune to rising tides. In addition, the city will boast the latest in green technology, thus eliminate the carbon footprint of its residents. These will include internal electric transport links, secured wind turbines, solar panels and river based water turbines for electricity generation, fresh water reclamation and storage systems, grey water treatment, sky garden heating/cooling vents.

If NOAH catches on, there are even plans to build one on the banks of the Mississippi, where flooding is expected to occur, displacing people up and down the interior US.

And speaking of rebuilding, Haiti continues to suffer from the damage suffered from the 2010 Earthquake. Luckily, there are no shortages of creative ideas of what to deal with this and the likelihood of future earthquakes and flooding. Harvest City is one such idea, a city built on a series of islands capable of supporting 30,000 residents.

Based on the principles of arcology, this city is designed to be sustainable, ensuring adequate food production for all its residents while also providing employment and industry. If feasible, such a city could be indispensable to Haiti’s recovery and ensuring the survival of its people in the long run.

And then there’s the BoA, which is short for Boston Arcology. Much like many of it’s predecessors, the purpose here is to address the problem of urban sprawl in a way that does not impact the existing city, either by expanding into surrounding green space or renovating it’s aging, historic core. Built into Boston Harbor, this uniquely shaped structure will house 15,000 people and will also hold hotels, offices, retail spaces, museums, condominiums, and even a new city hall.

And speaking of 3-Dimensional, check out this baby: the proposed Bionic Tower! A vertical city measuring some 1,228 meters high and being able to house approximately 100,000 people, the Bionic Tower is yet another proposed solution of what to do about the twin problems of overpopulation and pollution.

And at the heart of it all lies the concept of merging bioscience with existing high-tech, meaning that the building will house extensive green-spaces, nature preserves, and its own water reclamation and bio-fuel systems.

Originally proposed at a lecture entitled “Conquest of Vertical Space in the 21st Century – International Conference on Multipurpose High-Rise Towers and Tall Buildings” in London, October, 1997, the project has since begun formal development, and garnered the interest of city planners and developers in both Shanghai and Hong Kong.

Japan is following suit. As already mentioned, the Shimizu Mega-City Pyramid is being slated for development in Tokyo Bay. However, within Tokyo’s urban center, there are also plans for the creation of a vertical city, known as Sky City 1000. Measuring 1000m high, hence the name, the supertall skyscraper would house 35,000 residents and 100,000 workers. The design consists of 14 concave dish-shaped “Space Plateaus” that are stacked one upon the other and held together by a series of vertical struts. Each plateau is designed to contain greenspaces, offices, commercial facilities, schools, theaters, residential spaces, and other modern amenities.

Back to Dubai, where arcology is just one of many inspirations for new construction projects, we have the “Dubai Ziggarut”. A proposed Carbon-Neutral habitat proposed by design firm Timelinks, this eco-pyramid is expected to house 1 million people once completed. Power is to be provided by steam, wind, solar panels and other natural resources, ensuring complete electronic self-sufficiency. The tightly knit city will also feature a super efficient public transportation system that runs both horizontally and vertically, and plans are being drawn up to utilize both public and private green spaces for agricultural opportunities.

And last, but certainly not least, there is the proposed design for the “Ultima Tower”. A massive edifice, measuring some 3200 meters in height, this supertall skyscraper was first proposed in 1991 by Eugene Hui as a way of tackling the planet’s sustainability problems.  At this height, it would be the tallest building ever created by human beings, should it ever be built.

The interior of the structure would measure some 140,000,000 m2 and would be capable of supporting 1 million people. Relying on atmospheric pressure difference between the bottom and the top of the tower to create electricity and vast interior green space, the building would contain several “mini-ecosystems”.

Combined with water treatment and reclamation facilities, it would be capable of sustaining its inhabitants, perhaps without any outside help. Given the sheer cost of the structure (150 billion US dollars), it remains strictly theoretical. However, as time moves on and the problems of overpopulation and climate change continue, this tower may very well be making an appearance on the landscape!

That about does it for now. As I said before, its a rich and fertile concept! And given the pace of technological change and climate change, its becoming more likely with every passing day. Will it make a difference? Will it help us whether the storm, or help reverse the process? Hard to say. All we know is, living in sustainable communities that are self-sufficient and protected from external threats is far better than the alternative.

Real-life Robocop?

Imagine if you will, a machine that gives disabled police officers a chance to continue working with the force, but from the comfort and safety of an office. Rather than walking the beat and putting themselves in harm’s way, they could telepresence themselves to the streets through a robot body, one which does the job of getting around and locating offenders, while they issue the arrests and infractions. This is the concept that lies behind a new breed of patrol robot that is being developed by Lieutenant Commander Jeremy Robins and Florida International University’s Discovery Lab.

Initially, Robins began this program as a way of bringing some of the thousands of disabled police officers and soldiers in the U.S. back to the workforce. Ultimately, this would call for the creation of a “telebot” that is not only equipped with the latest in wireless technology, but also one that can get around and take some serious punishment. In many ways, this is an elaboration on the concept of Robocop, the hybrid man-machine that stole our hearts back in the 80′s with his signature lines: “You’re move creep!” and “Dead or alive, you are coming with me!” And let’s not forget that sweet gun trick!

But of course, these new robots would be asked to do less adventurous things than the gun-toting cyborg who saved Old Detroit. In addition to working as patrol officers, they would responsible for handling all the regular tasks of police officers. These would include responding to 911 calls, writing traffic tickets, patrolling specific routes, and staying vigilant for law breakers. In addition, they could also be charged with safe guarding government and high-value facilities from terrorists or other criminals, doing both surveillance and acting as an on-site security force.

Early sketches of the robot give some indication of what it would look like. Essentially, it would have to be mobile, which would call for a wheeled chassis. It would have to be ambulatory, which would require arms. And it ought to have some semblance of a person, since it would be expected to carry the officer’s voice and interact with people. In essence, even little children need to be able to approach this robot and ask it if it can help them find their mothers.

An early rendition, shown here, has been appropriately named “Tough Guy”. Like all other design ideas, the end result calls for a robot that has a two-wheeled chassis, a mobile upper body, and a head that carries a two-way audio and video device so that the officer commanding it can both view and interact with the robots and environment and other people.

Already, the Discovery Lab has announced that the end product will be military grade and usable by the army under the 2 million dollar initiative that DARPA’s (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) set up years ago. Robins is also trying to get NASA to sign on with its Robonaut tech – a program to develop a robotic astronaut. So while the end product will be used primarily by police, plans are already in place to expand it to other areas – such as military operations and unmanned space exploration – as well.

Relaunching an Idea: Red Sky At Night

Many months ago, I was struck by an idea. It is one which has been percolating in my mind for some time, but never really occurred to me as a reason to write. But then, I began to get into the whole “Alternate History” sub-genre of science fiction, examining such works as The Man In The High Castle, Fatherland, The Guns Of The South, and A Rebel In Time. It made me think that there was a good precedent for this kind of idea, and room for expansion.

But first, let me explain what I was thinking. Ever since University I’ve been fascinated by Russian history, particularly the interwar years. It was at this time that the most auspicious achievements and crimes took place in the former Soviet Union, after the death of Lenin and the ascent to power of Joseph Stalin, one of history’s greatest monsters.

Shortly thereafter, Russia became involved in World War II, during which time another monster – Adolf Hitler – committed unspeakable crimes against the Russian people. Over twenty six million people died on the Eastern Front, most of them civilians who had already witnessed such terrible suffering at the hands of their own dictator. In addition, many were victims of Soviet wartime oppression, killed by Stalin for the crime of not fighting hard enough or attempting to find liberation from their Nazi invaders.

From the point of view of Soviet propaganda, the years between 41 and 45 were portrayed as a the “Great Patriotic War”, a heroic struggle for the defense of the Motherland. In some respects this was true, but mainly it was a war between two nations being led by very petty and cynical men, with countless good and innocent souls caught in between. Those Germans who died in the East did so because of a fool’s dream of Lebensraum and racial purity, whereas the Russians who died did so in the defense of their families from both the invaders and the reprisals of NKVD officers.

Reading of all this, I often wondered, what if Leon Trotsky, Lenin’s intended successor, had led Russia during the interwar years? What if he had won the leadership race, instead of the scheming Stalin, and became the man to lead Russia against the Nazi invaders? Would things have worked out differently? Would Russia have still stood and ground up the Nazis, but in a way that didn’t lead to the death of so many millions of innocent Russians. The question is not a new one. In fact, historians have been pondering it for some time, and the entire question hinges on a single event.

This is where the concept of my own alternate history came in. In my story, a single event happens differently, thus giving rise to an alternate history. At the 13th Party Congress in Russia 1924, Trotsky had an historic opportunity. Lenin, before his death, had published his “Last Will And Testament” where, amongst other things, he singled out Stalin as a rude and ruthless character who should never be allowed to come to power. During the years following Lenin’s death, Trotsky was seen as the natural successor, which made him the natural rival of Stalin and his followers.

During the 12th Party Congress, Stalin’s allies helped suppress news of the Testament, but by the 13th, Trotsky was in possession of it and could released it, causing irreparable harm to Stalin’s reputation. Why he did not, and instead chose to make a conciliatory speech calling for unity, is something which historians have debated ever since. In so doing, he essentially guaranteed Stalin’s rise to power and his own exile, which culminated in his murder in Mexico some years later.

Red Sky At Night:

This is the basis of my idea. Instead of asking for reconciliation, Trotsky released Lenin’s Testament to the Party and asked for Stalin’s removal. He was successful, which guaranteed that it was he who would become the new leader of Soviet Russia and its chief planner during the interwar years. As a result, Stalin’s crash industrialization programs (aka. the Five Year Plans) were never launched.

Instead, he maintained Lenin’s New Economic Policy (NEP) and even appointed Bukharin (whom Stalin murdered) to oversee reform and expansion of state-owned industry. This led to a degree of slow recovery for the Soviet economy and improved the lot of its farmers and small private enterprises. And when the Great Depression hit in 1929, Russia would still spared the worst ravages of it while similarly showing signs of growth.

What’s more, Trotsky maintained close ties to foreign communist movements, rather than focusing so heavily on matters at home. As a result, in 1933 when the Nazis demanded a non-confidence vote against the Social Democratic Party, Trotsky ordered the KDP (Communist Party of Germany) to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Social Democrats, a move which did not alter the Nazi seizure of power, but which ensured that they were aligned with the anti-Nazi movement from early on.

In China, rather than advising Mao to go along with the Nationalist government (which turned on them) Trotsky advised that Mao and his cadres remain committed to resisting Japanese invasion and not trusting in Chiang Kai Shek. This prevented the massacre of Chinese Communists, which came in handy when the Sino-Japanese war began in 1937.

When the Spanish Civil War began, Trotsky and the Comintern became the most vocal and committed supporters of the Loyalists, sending them weapons, advisers, volunteers and funds. Much as in our own timeline, this had the effect of making the Soviets look like the chief supporters of anti-fascism, but since the effort didn’t suffer from Stalin’s paranoia and cynicism, the efforts were much more effective and popular. And thanks to Trotsky’s focus on foreign affairs, Commissar Maxim Litvinov, the champion of Collective Security, received the support he needed when he made his pitches to the League of Nations.

But most importantly of all, no purges or Great Terror took place during the late 30′s, which had the effect of undermining Russia’s efforts abroad, embarrassing Russia politically, decimating the Soviet officer corps, and devastating Russia’s agriculture. Russia therefore was in a much better position to coordinate alliances with the Czechs, the French, and rally public opinion towards ensuring that the Nazis were contained rather than appeased.

However, things really came down to the 1938 Sudetenland Crisis. For years, the Russians had been railing against coming to an accommodation with Hitler, largely for their own purposes. However, when Hitler demanded that Prime Minister Benes of Czechoslovakia cede the Sudetenland under threat of war, things finally came together for them. Facing harsh public opinion, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain found that he had little support for his policy of appeasement. French, Czech and League opinion were similarly opposed to any deal with Hitler, having been empowered by Russia’s example. As a result, instead of demanding that Benes give Hitler what he wanted, England and France instead demanded that Poland and Romania agree to allow Russian troops to pass their territory to mobilize against Germany, should the need arise.

These efforts did not materialize, but the appearance of unity on behalf of the League gave Hitler pause. His Generals advised that he back down, facing the likely prospect of war on all fronts, and Hitler was forced to concede. Afterward, Germany suffered from renewed economic problems, and Hitler lost virtually all support. The Nazis fell from power, World War II did not happen, the Holocaust never occurred, and the post-war division of the world between two superpowers not happen.

In the East, Japan found itself trapped as the League closed in to issue economic sanctions and demand that it withdraw from China. Soon, the Japanese Imperial government fell as well, and the threat of war was neutralized. In Italy and Spain, Mussolini and Franco remained in power, but were sure to behave themselves and even rejoined the League of Nations. And of course, Mao and his cadres did not seize power in the immediate post-war years, but instead came to an accommodation with the Nationalists, forming a powerful bloc within the government.

However, there was a downside to all of this as well. For starters, the economic boom caused by the war did not happen. Instead, the global economy recovered slowly throughout the 1940′s and 50′s. What’s more, the accommodation that took place between Russia and mainland Europe after the war, which saw the election of Social Democratic parties in every country and the de-radicalizing of Soviet power at home, caused a rift to form between the Anglo-American world and Eurasia. By 1950, fearing socialist revolution at home, England and America withdrew from the League and formed their own bloc, the Anglo-American Alliance.

Towards the end of the 1950′s, relations began to worsen, as the Alliance condemned what they saw as attempts at subversion in their own sphere while the League condemned the persecution of dissidents and revolutionaries. Both sides became retrenched and a new arms race began, the League and the Alliance scrambling to recruit the best and brightest minds to help them create new and better weapons. By the end of the 1950′s, scientists on both sides of the Atlantic were close to creating the first atomic weapons.

This is where the story opens. It’s 1963, twenty-five years since the Sudetenland Crisis took place, and the world is putting aside its difference to mark the occasion. East and West are coming together in a series of festivals, diplomatic summits, and tourist expos. However, behind the happy veneer of entente, the usual preparations for war continue. And in time, a series of events will trigger a crisis that could very well lead to another war. Much like in 1914, the world is sitting on a powder keg, and all that’s needed for another Great War to take place is for someone to provide the spark.

This idea got back-benched with my coming to join Writer’s Worth and all our anthology work, but I want to pick it back up. Much like Fascio Ardens (that’s its new title), I’m in the mood to write some genuine alternate history. It requires some staggering research to make these kinds of speculative works seem authentic and plausible, but I want to make it work. Call me crazy, especially since I’ve got it in my head to tackle two separate ideas. But as my grandpa used to say, “Lord hates a coward!”

Whiskey Delta – Chapter 23

“Friendly fire – isn’t”

-Anonymous

They made it to the lobby without incident. Whoever it was that was popping off rockets at them clearly hadn’t been able to get a line on their advance.A good indication that they either weren’t on top of their games, or rank amateurs.

Still, as far as deployment was concerned, things couldn’t have felt more different. It was one thing dealing with Whiskeys who were capable of showing a modicum of intelligence. It was another thing entirely to deal with an opponent who could shoot back.

The front lobby held all the telltale signs of invasion. Broken glass, tables and vending machines turned on their sides and used as obstructions. And of course, plenty of blackened, gory patches. Deploying in in a wedge formation, they the room and secured all corners. Not a sign of anyone holding it or waiting in ambush. Another clear sign that whoever was shooting at them wasn’t exactly thinking things through. Perhaps it wasn’t animosity driving them after all.

Braun activated his comm, called up Dezba. “Sergeant, what’s your status?”

His line crackled, Dezba;s voice coming in a second later. “We’re sitting pretty, sir. No contact down here.”

“Good,” he replied. “I need you to bring the Stryker around. When we take to the fourth floor, I want you and the Private to pull out front and perform some covering fire.”

A second or two of hesitation. “Do you mean to say you want us to draw their fire, sir?”

Braun smiled. “I’m thinking our quarry here might be a little off their game. They see you pulling around, they might not realize we’re outflanking them. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Just give us the word and we’ll be your sitting ducks.”

Braun chuckled. “Standby,” he said, and shut his comm down. He motioned in the air for the squad to move, pointed to the far end of the lobby. Within seconds, they were through and on their way to the stairs, their boots clanking loudly as they made their way up to the fourth floor.

*                     *                     *

They sat at the intersection, the engine idling loudly. Dezba positioned the turret at the west side of the building, what little he could see. They wouldn’t have a clear line on them until they moved clear of the shadows and put themselves in harms way again. The LT had specified taking them down in one piece, but he was going to be damned if he wasn’t going to squeeze off a few rounds in reply. Just a warning shot or two, issued with fifty-cal rounds!

“This is grade-A retard shit, man.”

“Welcome to the army, Billy,” he replied, waiting on his comm. “Every halfway decent plan is retarded.”

“Let’s just kill em and be done with it.”

Dezba grabbed hold of the gun controls and gave them a light squeeze, safe in the knowledge that they were still secured. “Might yet come to that, soldier. Just hang on and let’s see what happens.”

“Cool, cool,” Whitman said, even though it was plain it wasn’t. For the next few minutes, they sat their amidst the vibrations and Dezba tried not to jump down his throat. The way his feet kept tapping on the floor, the way he was fidgeting incessantly. A thought occurred to him just then.

“Did you pop some pep pills before we dropped?”

Whitman looked at him, eyes wide. His pupils looked a little dilated suddenly. He knew that look well enough. An admission would just be a formality at this point.

“Um, what?” said Whitman, pretending he hadn’t heard.

“Did you pop some pills before we dropped?”

“No… not before we dropped.“

“God – ! I hate it when you’re high on those fucking things. You’re always running at the mouth.”

Whitman smirked. “You’d miss my sparkling conversation, sir. And speaking of running at the mouth, what the hell was that about the other night?”

Dezba bristled and looked back to the display. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, c’mon Sarge!” he said, way too loud. “You were itching to knock somebody’s block off. And I aint ever heard you say that kind of shit about civvies before.”

Dezba shook his head, kept his eyes on the display. “Nothing I haven’t said before.”

“Bullshit! You’re always saying the first and final duty of a soldier is to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves… or some such shit. That was totally not you, sir.”

Dezba refused to look. They were venturing into territory he refused to get into. Any further down this road, and he was afraid he would cease feeling anything again. He kept silent and hoped Whitman would go back to waiting and annoying him with his foot tapping. As insufferable as that was, it was preferable to talking about that night. Anything was…

“Alright,” Whitman said finally. “Keep your secrets. Just let me know if you’re gonna blow your stack. I’ll point you in the right direction.”

Shut the fuck up, Private, he thought. The boy was getting dangerously close. Any further and he’d forget himself. Not something he wanted to be doing right now. There were enough people asking to die, some of them were waiting up in that high-rise before them.

The LT’s voice sounded on the comm. “Stryker, this is Alpha team. Breaching in ten seconds, wheels up.”

Dezba keyed his comm, thankful for the interruption. “Roger that, sir. Stryker is Oscar Mike.” He turned to Whitman with what he imagined with a pretty harsh fucking glare. “You heard him, Private. Move us out!”

Whitman revved the engine and grabbed hold of the controls. “Hang on to your hat, Sarge. And pray we don’t get hit!”

Dezba would have smiled, in another time and place. “Don’t worry, Private. You’ll barely feel it if we do.”

*                     *                    *

Braun released his hold on the comm. He looked up at his squad, poised and ready on either side of the door. He nodded at them.

“Ready?” they nodded in return. Mill and Saunders grabbed two flashbangs from their belts, and Kobayashi braced himself in front of the door. His boot came up and smashed the locking mechanism clear, and the flashbangs went in right behind. A loud shriek sounded just as the bangers went off, followed by a loud yell.

“Move! Move!”

They were inside the room and on their quarry in no time at all. Two were already on the ground, a rifle in his hands. Mill secured him quickly, while the other two on the balcony were taken down by Cobb and Saunders. The one holding the launcher had still been on his feet, but Saunders quickly solved that with a sharp kick to the back of his knee. All three had the business end of a weapon shoved in their face and began issuing pleas of surrender by the time the echoing noise finally dissipated,

Raising his helmet, Braun took in the room in a bit more detail. Ammo boxes and crates had been piled against two walls of the room. All traces of furniture had been shoved into the adjacent bedroom, stripped down except for the mattresses. He could see several containers opened and scattered about, C-rations from the looks of them. A tall can in the corner also caught his eye, clearly the latrine since the room clearly didn’t have any working utilities.

He eyed the nearest one who was laid out on the carpet. He was blinking hard, trying to resolve his vision after the blinding flash. The cammo pants he wore were standard issue, as was the khaki shirt.He recognized the emblem too: a blue and gray yin-yang. He kicked his weapon away and waved at Mill to step off of him.

“Can you hear me?” the man looked at him and blinked hard. “I’m Lieutenant Braun. Two-hundredth Infantry Brigade, Rattlesnakes. Fort Vanguard, New Mexico. You’re with the twenty-ninth, aren’t you?”

That got a blink of recognition. “Yes!”

Braun nodded. “You boys are a long way from home, aint ya?”

“Yes,” the man said again, looking suddenly quite sad. Must have been the mention of home.

“Can you tell me your name?”

The man shivered and closed his eyes. It was as if it would only come with an effort. Finally, he gave him the basics.

“Sergeant Michael Beauvoir, twenty-ninth Infantry, Fort Belvoir. One-nine-seven, four-three-nine, seven-three-seven.”

Braun smiled. Name, rank, and SSN. Standard capture protocol. Now for the hard part.

“Why did you shoot at us, Sergeant?”

The man became visibly agitated. He closed his hands into tight balls and pulled them to his face. His next words were uttered through clenched teeth.

“I swore to hold this position against all opposition. To resist all attacks and wait for exfiltration. That was my duty! That was MY duty!”

“When did you get here?”

Beaumont blinked hard. His eyes became distant, and in time the look of dismay returned. Braun thought he make break down at any second.

“I… I…”

Braun waved at Mill to step back. He extended a hand to Beaumont and helped him up. He waved at the others to do the same. Cobb and Saunder found some impromptu furniture to sit them down on while Braun helped Beaumont over to the nearest stack of crates. He tried to get things rolling again, focusing on the Sergeant seemed comfortable answering.

“Who was commanding your unit?”

“Some Captain… Fischer. Ex special forces.”

Braun didn’t bother to ask what happened to him. It was obvious enough he had died some time ago.

“What was Homeland’s involvement?”

Beaumont shook his head. “They were the ones who put it together. Said it was a matter of national security. Said we were winning the war, coming out here…”

That distant look again. Braun tried to steer him back on track again. “Did they tell you what the mission was all about?”

Beaumont shook his head again. He began to rock back and forth on the crates. “Nobody… nobody told us a thing. Captain was the only one who knew…. only one who knew!”

Braun looked to Mill, then the other two captives. They didn’t appear to be doing so well either. All of them were sitting quietly, but looked severely on edge. no doubt they had gotten used to mirroring the Sergeant’s disposition, him being their commander in lieu of this Captain. That was the way of it. Robbed of any semblance of order or hope, the mind clung to whatever it could. Could be a man, could be a belief, could even be a familiar object. You simply clung onto it, until it broke.

“Listen, Sergeant. We can get you out of here, but it means coming with us. We’ve got our Stryker down below. We got food, water, and medicine. Might do your men some good to get something new to eat and a quick check up.”

Beaumont ceased rocking and began nodding quite furiously. Braun looked to Kobayashi. “Big man, you still got your med kit handy?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, placing his launcher aside and pulling the kit from his suit. It was a point of irony that their heavy weapons man was also their resident med tech, but he was qualified for it. One of the many reasons he had been selected. Opening it on top of one the crates, he produced a HR/BP monitor and a penlight. Beginning with the other two, he started giving them a quick check while Braun kept talking to the Sergeant.

“Sergeant, we’ve still got a job to do here, and I suspect it might have been the same thing you were sent in to do. Did your orders specify anything about a snatch and grab?” Beaumont nodded in that same anxious way. “We still have to complete the mission. But once that’s done, we’re set for exfiltration back to New Mexico. We get you there, our CO can start working on a way to get you home.”

Beaumont looked up at him, his eyes looking distant and bright for the first time since they met. “Home…” he said. “Yes… yes. That’s what we’ll do… with you guys. With you guys!” He jumped to his feet and began pointing at each of them in turn. “We go with you!”

Braun raised his hands and patted Beaumont on the shoulders. It took a second and a few calming words, but he coaxed him to sit back down. That’s when he called Saunders and stepped aside for a private word.

“Sir?” she asked, unclear on why he asked her over.

“Corporal, in the absence of the Sergeant, you are acting NCO. And what I’m about to tell you goes no further. Understood?”

She nodded and leaned in close.

“Your impressions on the Sergeant over there?”

She looked to her boots. “Sir, he’s broken, clearly.”

“Without a doubt. But that’s not the main issue. What are the odds our exfil is going to be able to perform an emergency landing to pick us up when this is over?”

“Landing?” she asked, but then quickly realized what he was getting at. “Oh, our exfil was only set for seven. If these men come with us…”

“Bingo. That Herc that’s supposed to pluck us from the ground is going to have to land. What are the odds of them being able to airlift a Stryker, ten personnel, and still make it back to base without spending their fuel?”

She ran the numbers through her head, eventually producing a best guess scenario. “Might be close, we might have to leave the Stryker behind. But that was the plan to begin with.”

Braun nodded. “Right, but it was also based on the idea that we’d need to dust off in a hurry, once we found our target. If we ask for a landing, we’ll have to move the exfil point back to where they dropped us off, and maybe even attempt a drive in exfil.”

That made Saunders reconsider. She tried to fathom that one and shook her head. “We’d need a crazy pilot, and an even crazier driver.”

Braun smiled. “We’re one for two then so far, Corporal. Fifty-fifty are pretty good starting odds.”

New Hobbit Trailer!

The latest full-length trailer for the upcoming Hobbit movie has just been released. And I think you’ll agree, it’s way more lavish and teaser-oriented than the last. Damn studios, always gotta dangle the carrot in front of our noses! This time around, they focus more on the action and sense of crisis, especially where Ogres are concerned. And from what I can tell, this first installment will climax during the battle in the Misty Mountains, where the company came upon a cave filled with Orcs.

This is also the first time since LOTR that Gollum is being shown, and the little game he and Bilbo played – which resulted in him taking the One Ring – is revealed. Also, be sure to let me know what you think about the apparent changes Jackson is making by including Galadriel and providing hints of what was to come in LOTR. These, for the most part and to the best of my knowledge, weren’t part of the original story. Is he just thickening the plot a little, or taking liberties he shouldn’t?