Adam Oster's Blog, page 22

Flash Fiction: Polybius

For those of you unaware of the mystery surrounding the video game Polybius, the story is simple. It is an urban legend about a game (called Polybius), which supposedly existed in the 1980s.

In 1981 in Portland, Oregon, a series of psychology experiments were being run by the government. One of those experiments was that of a video game, which ended up having intense mental effects on the players. It is said that men dressed in black would show up at the few arcades which housed these machines during the brief period they could be found. Only a month later all of the Polybius arcade cabinets would disappear.

There’s no mention of this game existing before the year 2000 when gamers started asking what happened to this game from their youth. And although the stories are many and varied, they match where it counts. Yet, the general consensus is that this is just a fun urban myth that people like to talk about on the internet, a form of internet cryptozoology.

However, there is one additional detail to consider when deciding whether or not this is a government conspiracy to cover up a video game which studied the effects of addiction on players. I just found out about this game a week ago. And when I went to write this story, it turns out I had already written it years ago.

And while that may appear to be just some creepypasta intended to spook you about absolute nonsense, the real thing to be concerned about here is that I’m just about to turn forty and I’m already beginning to suffer from early onset dementia. Talk about something to be scared about.

What I’m Reading/Playing/Watching/Hearing

Whether you realize it or not, we all ingest art every dang day. Whether it’s through the entertainment we enjoy or even the advertising that we try to ignore, creativity played a part and it became art. As such, I want to take a moment to highlight some of the art I’ve been enjoying as of late.

Book – The Wall of America by Thomas M. Disch

This collection of short stories jumps all over the place, from odd little introspections into what the future of a giant wall around the United States could look like with people covering it in art, to deep dives into the concept of humanity and religion through a discussion between a robotic alien and a god-like being. Honestly, this book is good weird fun like a short story anthology should be. There is oddly enough, some crossover from story to story, almost like they are intended to feed into each other, but not in the actual activity happening in the books, but in the topics explored, causing the stories to weirdly meld together as you think through them, but in a somewhat good way. Certainly worth the read.

Game – Far Cry 3

If you’ve played the original Far Cry or Far Cry 2 (or, honestly, any first person shooter released in the past 20 years), you’ve not going to be surprised by much that’s offered in Far Cry 3. It’s great for some quick entertainment between tasks (you know, like how very busy dads have to play), but it’s not going to change the genre for you in any way. I might not be giving it much credit, since it was released in 2012 and may have been game-changing at that point, but regardless, it feels like another standard entry in the genre today. The highlights here are that it does allow you countless ways to complete missions, often allowing you to go through the mission stealthily or guns-ablazing. And it’s pretty. Especially for 2012 standards. It’s fun, and if it’s on sale (like it was when I picked it up), it’s definitely worth a play through.

TV/Movie – Loki

Look, if you’re not watching Loki, you really should. I’m actually struggling right now with the fact that the last episode released three days ago (as of when I wrote this) and since my daughter is at camp, I haven’t been able to watch the finale and therefore have to avoid the Internet entirely so as to keep from getting spoilers. And the truth is…I’ve already had most of the big spoilers (I think) forced on me. But this show is a definite watch, even if you’re not into the MCU. Like WandaVision before it, it does a great job of separating itself from the mold of MCU movies. This isn’t a by-the-book superhero series. It has surprises, it brings you to question what’s going to happen next, and it really causes you to want to see more of this world they’ve been developing. Owen Wilson brings his A-game in his MCU debut, holding his own alongside MCU-favorite Tom Hiddleston. This feels like a superhero series directed by Wes Anderson, and I’m actually surprised that I’m saying that’s a good thing. It’s silly in a way the MCU has previously been afraid to be, and I’m so happy with the result.

Music – Sufjan Stevens

This guy has been a favorite of mine for ages now. I happened upon his music almost accidently over a decade ago and fell in love with his atmospheric qualities and haunting lyrics. Songs like John Wayne Gacy Jr. will sit in the back of your mind for weeks after hearing it, causing you to unfortunately be constantly reminded of the serial killer as you cry in your sleep. But it’s so hauntingly beautiful that you just want to hear it again and again. He’s been some good mood music for me lately while I work on school, writing, or reading.

What about you? What art have you been enjoying lately? I’m always looking for something new to read, watch, play, or listen to, even if I already have a list for each of these things that is so incredibly large that I’ll never get through it all.

What’s in a Name (or a pronoun)?

I like to think of myself as a laid back person. I don’t generally judge people on their choices, and when I do, it’s more of a gentle joking kind of judging. However, I’ve found myself feeling incredibly bothered by something which really shouldn’t have taken up so much real estate in my mind. And it has to do with people declaring that they now have a new name and/or gender they would prefer to be called by.

Now, to be fair to myself (cue the Letterkenney crew), I historically haven’t had an issue with this concept. I’ve got quite a few friends who perform in drag and a couple who like to spend more time as a woman than as a man and have never had an issue with the idea of calling them by their drag names or genders when they are presenting as such. I’ve traditionally taken a similar approach to those in the nonbinary communities. But, for some reason, when it comes to the middle schoolers in my life (which seems to be more and more as my children get older), I have found myself struggling.

I know this is a sensitive topic and I also know that in my revealing of my internal dialogue on this mess, I may not come off as being entirely compassionate toward that fact. But, to put my state of mind at the time simply: the sheer numbers of middle schoolers in my life who have been changing pronouns and names seem to be far greater than the national average for those who identify as nonbinary, suggesting (statistically speaking) that some of these folks are probably just into the trendiness of it. The fact that I know of a few who refuse to settle on a name or gender definitely caused me additional difficulty in resolving this in my mind as well.

This idea that you can just suddenly be someone else reminded me of my younger days when the goth or hippie kids would suddenly declare their name to be Lucifer Morningstar or Sunshine Gluten-Free Oats or something I would find equally ridiculous. I know kids today who have changed their preferred moniker to match that of a favorite cartoon character, which reminded me of the moment in the film Big Daddy where the kid declares his name to be Frankenstein. Something about the method in which these kids were approaching the subject felt so inconsequential that I just found myself having difficulty taking it seriously.

And so, because there is a definitely trendiness to this and oftentimes a lack of an emotional component to the decision, which I feel those who truly struggle with gender identity tend to showcase, I found myself wanting to ignore it. I didn’t see this as a reflection of one’s inner self as much as it was kids trying to figure out what clique they belonged to. And to be honest, a part of me felt like this was more of an attack on authority figures than it was anything else. To hear these kids who appeared to have no real emotional connection to their decisions talk about the evils of misgendering and deadnaming felt like a game where the rules meant that those who didn’t play were intolerant.

It probably didn’t help that my six year old, when seeing these kids changing identities at will, decided he now wanted to be called Jeff instead of Felix. He saw the game and wanted to play along. And a part of me felt like me playing along meant I was allowing these kids to take something that was an emotionally serious moment for many people around the world, and make it into a silly thing. I could handle the idea of people being nonbinary, I could handle feeling like you were assigned the wrong gender at birth, but for someone to claim this with zero emotional baggage connected to it, that I couldn’t handle.

For most of the last year, I’ve struggled with this. I was hung up on this idea that it mattered that these kids didn’t care about the struggles so many people have in coming to terms with the precise thing they were trying on like new pair of pants. Not only did I have this issue with feeling like it was my authoritative place to make sure they weren’t allowed to change their name and/or gender just because they thought it would be fun, but I felt like it was an affront to those who actually struggle with these precise issues.

And there’s a part of me who still feels like these kids might need to gain a better understanding of the background of this identity they’re trying on for size, whether they are truly struggling with with their own gender identities or not.

But another part of me has also come to the realization that I really don’t know why I’ve felt so personally invested in this.

While I definitely struggle with my years of training on how to gender someone in conversation and often have difficulty in remembering to say they or he for a person who appears to be feminine, and it gets even more difficult when I have to remember which gender a person might be this week, depending on how they are feeling, I finally found myself asking the question of why do I care?

For reasons I can’t explain, I felt this need to control the situation, and when I actually sat down to think about it, I couldn’t come up with a good explanation for why. It’s incredibly common for middle schoolers who were named Katheryn, but called Katie, to suddenly declare their name to be Kat. Why does it need to be any different because they is (singular nonbinary pronouns feel wrong when trying to use appropriate grammar, don’t they?) now wanting to be called Pat?

I’ve been requiring these kids to live in reality as I see it. And that reality means that you really shouldn’t be going about changing your names and pronouns if you don’t have some sort of emotional need to be doing so. There are rules to this society! Why should I be forced to remember what pronouns you want to go by? This isn’t some dream world where you can change whether you want to be considered a boy, a girl, or a gonzo depending on how you feel that day!

I, a person who spends his life writing fiction, became far too obsessed with needing people to live in a very specific reality.

But what is this reality I was expecting? Clothing, gender of names, or even pronouns, these are all simply societal constructs, things developed because of rules set down by people who died ages ago. Sure, perhaps in the medical setting there may be some reasons to know what gender a person was assigned at birth, but what need is there to know assigned genders anywhere else?

As a young buck growing up in the Southeast during the 80s and 90s who liked books and singing more than sports, I often found myself battling against the constructs of gender in our society. I never questioned my boy-ness, but I always questioned what it meant to be a boy. I may not have a solid grasp on what makes those who identify as non-binary any different than those who simply don’t follow the boy-blue/girl-pink rules of society, but I guess my point is: Do I really need to understand?

There is so much to be unhappy about in this world, so, if your name and/or pronouns are one of them…why shouldn’t you be allowed to change them at will? Who cares? There are far more important things to worry about than whether someone should be allowed to tell you how to refer to them. When talking to someone on the phone who sounds like a woman and you call them ma’am and they correct you, you generally apologize and refer to them by male pronouns for the rest of the conversation, you don’t ask them to verify what is in their pants. If my kid comes home and tells me his name is now Jeff and he wants me to refer to him with they/them, well, there are far worse things he could come home and say, even if Jeff is a terrible name.

Hell, even the religious among you really shouldn’t have much to get up in arms about.I mean, sure, Hebrew is a very gendered language, but there’s nothing in the Bible I can find which states a need to follow a specific naming pattern for gender or how you must use specific pronouns because of what equipment you were born with. And the Bible has people changing names all the time. Sure, there are the more obvious ones like Abram to Abraham, Sarai to Sarah, Saul to Paul, but there’s also Simon to Peter, Jacob to Israel, and even Jedediah to Solomon. Names mean something and the Bible shows this time and again. Maybe there’s a place where we can recognize that sometimes the name given to a child before they are even born might not apply to them years after they are birthed.

And maybe, it really shouldn’t matter that much to those of us who just have to get used to a new name.

I mean, sheesh, I’ve known several people throughout the course of my life who go by their middle names instead of their first names and every single fiber of my being knows that to be wrong but I still play along.

So, bottom line, I’ve been at fault for my internal responses to those who have declared themselves to have different names and/or genders than what they were assigned at birth, even if they were primarily middle school aged. I shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter. It impacts me only in what words I use in a sentence and as long as you’re willing to accept the fact that I’m not going to get your new identity correct 100% of the time, I really should accept that you have a right to tell me how you would prefer to be addressed. I’m sorry.

Be you. Heck, authors go by new names, sometimes differently gendered names, all the time. Even the transphobic author of a popular book series about a young wizard used an intentionally misleading penname so people would think she was a man instead of a woman, and that was just to sell books. Why can’t you use a name that makes you feel more like you?

Now the real question is…what name would you pick if you could change your name to anything? And, will there ever be a day when I can feel comfortable using they/them pronouns with singular verbs?

Have fun out there!

What Have I Done?

One of the primary purposes of this space has always been to keep you updated on my life, whether you liked it or not. To keep with that tradition, here’s my Christmas card letter for you, which, like all Christmas card letters, you can skim over to see if you’re mentioned before tossing aside.

Merry Christmas in July!

The best Christmas cards come with pictures. Too bad you can’t hang this one on your fridge.

I should probably start this off with the answer to the question I get asked most by those who have enjoyed my books: Am I still writing?

Although the past few years have felt like the writing has taken a back burner, the reality is that I’ve been quite prolific. In fact, I’m putting the finishing touches on a book right now. Yes, I have been working on this book for the past six years, but The Right to Liberty(title pending) is something special, something I’ve been pouring my heart into, something which, I believe, takes my writing to a whole new level. I honestly believe it is the most well written book I have ever pieced together. It’s fun, it’s folksy, and I believe it will cause you to pause at least briefly and think about the world around you. I could write an entire post on this book and how excited I am about it…and I will. For now, just know that not only have I been putting out books, short stories, and plays over the past six years, I’ve also got one big, game-changing book on the horizon.

The Family: It’s no secret that my family is the most important thing in my life. Six years ago my youngest was a baby, still not even able to crawl. Now he’s an amazing little man who loves to read so much that I literally had to rip a book out of his tightly gripped hands this weekend so he could get ready to go to the pool (which, I’ll add, was his idea in the first place). The other two kids need at least two hands to tell me their ages and are becoming their own incredible human beings. And all three of them have been bitten by the writing bug. They’ve promised to share some of their writing here on the blog, which I am so freaking excited to share with you.

The wife is still the wife. Sure, that’s a boring sentence, but six years with three kids is a long time for a marriage to continue to work (not to mention the 8 additional years today with varying numbers of children and the three years we were together before being married), meaning this is an amazing accomplishment. I can barely handle hanging out with me for a couple hours, and here she is at over 17 years of it. She’s still the amazing supportive partner who keeps me well fed and I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And me…well, I’m still pretty much me. I’m always working on something. Over the past six years, I’ve taking to learning multiple computer programming languages (and a few human languages, which I’m far worse at), leading me to one of my favorite non-writing (but still writing) projects: a program which analyzes the text of a book and will write a completely new book in the style of that book. It’s pretty rough yet, but also only about a month-old. Here’s a sentence it just wrote, in the style of The Agora Files: “Providing a tizzy. Too are sluggish. Very very interesting for in training to quickly.”

And I think that’s pretty much it for updates at the moment. There are countless other minor details I could expound upon, like how I’m in school again, how we’ve been using peaches to save the world, or how we moved to a farm and then back to the city, but I think all of those deserve their own post. And sure, there are always those less-than-happy moments in life, which, who knows, maybe I’ll throw some of those out here as well.

But for now, that’s the quick overview of what I’ve been up to for the last six years. Where have you ended up since we last chatted?

I’ve Missed This

Every great author should have a crow for a friend, right?

In case yesterday’s little piece of flash fiction didn’t make it obvious, I’m back!

It sure has been a while, hasn’t it?

Six years actually. Well, outside of the random little something or other.

And I know what you’re thinking, this is just another one of those random little something or others.

NO!

Six years ago, this blog was my comfort zone. My place to sit back and get out some of the random thoughts rumbling around in my head, experiment a bit through flash fiction or social commentary, highlight other authors, book and entertainment reviews, life and book updates, as well as a little bit of advice column.

This was my prosaic playground. And it was one of my favorite places to play.

And then, about six years ago, I made a decision which would mean I had to put the blog on the back burner. And then a few other decisions. And before you know it, it has been six years since blogging was a daily activity for yours truly. Most of these decisions involved doing what was right for my family, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world, but for the past six years I’ve been ruminating on how I can get back to this space.

And then, a couple months ago, I realized how much I needed to bring this back into my life and began developing something to not only allow me to return to regular blogging, but also to make sure that the blog would remain as engaging as possible for you, my amazing readers.

As a result of all that planning, I’m happy to say that I’m back with a whole host of things sitting in the hopper ready to be shared, with plans for a ton more. I’m so incredibly excited to get my playground back and even more excited to share it with you.

Yet, I’m aware of how terrible of a return a stupid “I’m Back” post is, as it’s inherently boring and self-aggrandizing. Because of that, I’ve written another little piece of flash fiction for you. It’s basically the first version I came up with for yesterday’s post, but, you know, a little less epic. All the same, just a little goofy treat to throw out here to showcase how I’m ready to be back!

Have fun out there!

Once upon a time, in the not-so sleepy town of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, there lived a storyteller. This storyteller loved to tell stories, but there was one thing he loved even more: his family.
While this storyteller could never give up telling stories entirely, as it was his very nature to do so, he decided to limit his storytelling time in order to focus more on his family and give them the attention they deserved.
Now, it would be lying to say his focus was purely on his family during this period. No, he was working hard to try to do something incredible. His fought to find ways to make more of himself so he could provide his family with the quality of life he wished them to have. And while he would find it difficult, he found success in the ways which mattered. And through those successes, he and his family were able to have the most amazing adventures. And, as luck would have it, he would still manage to find some time, albeit small amounts, to tell stories.
He would publish three books, three short stories, and two plays during this period of decreased storytelling. The plays would be performed before sold out crowds who would laugh and cheer, the short stories would be included in anthologies filled with writing from some of the storyteller’s favorite storytellers, and the books would tell enthrall readers with its epic adventures and colorful characters. While the storyteller dedicate himself as fully to his craft as he wanted, he still managed to achieve his ultimate goals of telling stories and having people enjoy them.
Yet, he yearned for the storytelling days of his past. The days where he would daily provide his audience with new tales and engage with them directly. Perhaps not all of his stories would be met with the grandest of responses, but a conversation had been developed between storyteller and storyreader. And this conversation was what the storyteller missed
One day, the storyteller, finding himself with an unexpected moment of free time, opened up his computer. He sat in his dark little office and began tapping away on his keyboard. Eager, once again, to find his friends and hope to entertain them.

Prologue

The man lit a torch as he entered the dark musty room, unsure of what he would find after such a long time away. His previous adventures in this space had uncovered countless treasures, but he feared his absence had caused all to be forgotten and lost.

He trudged down the steep staircase into the earth’s underbelly, butterflies of eager anticipation fluttered in his stomach as he pressed forward to see what he might find.

The torch cast deep shadows along the walls, highlighting ancient texts scrawled throughout the cavernous interior. The man ran his fingers along the etched lettering, feeling the words come alive with his fingers as he considered the times in which they were written. Tales of life, the future, the past, and hopes long forgotten surrounded him as a reminder of those historic days when this prosaic playground was still shiny and new.

The man paused, noting a statue placed directly in the center of it all. He hastened his pace to reach the statue and pursed his lips to blow away the layers of dust covering the hall’s centerpiece. He smiled, knowing that although the statue bore his face, it was the faces of the thousands who would visit here who should have the memorials built in their images.

And so it was, with a conflicted grin, the man placed the first of the explosive charges at the base of the statue. He placed an additional five throughout the hall, questioning whether he truly wanted to follow through with his plan. He reminded himself that although the history of the place may have meant something to him, and perhaps would be remembered by some of those who had previously visited, the clearing of the old to make way for the new would allow for so much more.

After delicately placing the final package and carefully connecting the red and black wires which coursed their way back to the cave’s entrance, he gave one final look around, wondering whether or not he had the right to destroy everything he had once held dear, even if his intention was to build something far grander.

Once he had further dedicated himself to the task, he followed the cables back to the surface, took one deep breath, and flipped the switch, causing everything to burst into flames as the walls came crumbling to the ground.

As the dust settled, he reentered the cave, now nothing more than an empty space with blanks walls. He took out his tools, walked to the closest wall, and returned to work, smiling broadly as he prepared to bring his next story to the world.

The Day the World Stopped…

I have to admit, I’ve been reticent to take much of the situation surrounding COVID-19 seriously, at least until this past weekend. Now it’s weighing heavily on my mind and I feel the need to get some of it out.  It’s not that I didn’t see the possible impacts of the virus.  We’re looking at a plague with a incredibly high infection rate with truly unknown limits to what it could do to the population in the long term, or even the relatively short term.  Our elderly and chronically ill people find themselves awaiting the possibility of death simply by breathing the same air as someone who is infected.  And one of the worst things about the disease itself is that it becomes difficult at times to separate the panic from the reality.

The reality is, you will probably get sick and many will certainly die.

With that being said, it’s not surprising that we have taken the utmost precautions in attempting to keep the worst possible outcome from occurring.  Our world’s healthcare systems simply can’t take the strain of having everyone getting sick with this sometimes debilitating disease at the same time.  Even ignoring the lack of beds and healthcare workers to take care of people, we will simply run out of the necessary supplies to keep these people kicking.

Knowing all of this, I still found myself not ready to take things entirely seriously.  We’ve seen pandemic scares before.  It wasn’t that long ago that we even had fears of the coronavirus SARS taking over the world in a similar manner, not to mention H1N1 or ebola.  Looking at history’s greatest hits of the Black Death and the Spanish flu, we’ve been ready for ages for the next worldwide pandemic to decimate our population and that has often fueled our readiness for panic.  So, I took the news, as I watched and listened, with a bit of skepticism, while also realizing that should the worst happen, as tragic as it might be, there are a number of positives that could come from decreasing the surplus population.  Heck, we’ve been talking about overpopulation for as long as I can remember.  This could have severe positive impacts on things like climate change.  You know how we’ve been worried about how the economy can handle the aging Boomer population as they move onto government assistance?  These are morbid responses, yet, but in a situation where you hold no control, it’s important to see the silver linings, right?

I was concerned, but not for myself.  For some of my family, obviously, but, for as flippant of a comment as it is, death is a part of life, and I couldn’t help but seeing the long term impacts of this pandemic as being not-so-bad.  One of the worst things I saw happening, the toppling of the healthcare system, is something that’s been necessary for a long time so that we can build one that actually works for those in need, as opposed to the profitable empire it is today.

But now we’re looking at quarantining everyone and everything so as to flatten the curve.  And, in some ways, this is a solid idea.  We will decrease the burden on our hospitals and health care providers.  We will decrease the numbers of people being immediately infected and thereby decrease the numbers of high risk individuals who are also infected and may die from it.  We will buy ourselves time to figure out this disease and how best to battle it.  Heck, there are theories, albeit not incredibly well substantiated ones, that this disease simply won’t be able to be transmitted nearly as well once the weather warms up and humidity increases, so buying us some time could be incredibly useful in decreasing the direct impact this virus poses.

Yet, there are so many alternative issues created by a global quarantine, most of them impacting the young and impoverished. Small and local businesses will struggle, especially now that we’re looking at closing down our restaurants and bars.  Hotels will soon follow.  As well as, I’m guessing, the majority of the service industry.  Let’s assume for a minute that the quarantine will only last two weeks (which we should realize that by flattening the curve, we’re extending the length of time this disease will impact us).  That’s two weeks without wages for people who are, in most cases, getting paid minimum wage.  These people will not be able to survive.  Many of them have kids.  They will not be able to feed them.  They won’t be able to pay their bills and ensure they have a home and heat and all of the other necessities for survival.  These are not people who have cushioned savings accounts to keep them safe in an emergency.  These are people who struggle to live paycheck to paycheck, who will no longer be getting one.  They can’t work from home.  They will simply have nothing.  It’s only been ten years since we saw the subprime mortgage crisis.  How do you think the banks will fare today when the low and middle class can’t pay their mortgages?

While the impacts on the healthcare system and the death toll will be insurmountable without the quarantine, the impacts on our global economy with the quarantine are a complete uncertainty.  These impacts could, quite literally, cripple the world for years to come.

I can’t say which is better, looking at the long-term results.  Obviously I don’t want people suffocating to death in hospital beds because there simply aren’t enough health care workers to take care of them, but I’m fearful of what the long term impacts of the quarantine will be.

But I don’t like to work with fear.  Possibly because it scares me.

And the way I personally deal with such fears is to try and come up with better solutions.

And I came up with one.  I don’t have any of the expertise necessary to state that it is better, but it feels better.  It feels like it has the possibility of decreasing the overall impact, while realizing that I’m nowhere sure how we implement it.  My idea is a little out there.  It’s not one anyone will actually be interested in, mostly because those who are most negatively impacted are those in power.  But, the reality here is that there is only a small subset of our population who are really going to be most impacted by the disease if it were allowed to go on its normal course.  The reason we are quarantining every single person is to keep that small subset safe until herd immunity sets in.  We are locking everyone up for the few.  We are stopping the world so a percentage of the world doesn’t have to get sick.

Is there not a way for us to quarantine only those at risk?  Herd immunity works best if we have most people immune.  And most people can weather the storm, at least from everything I’ve read.  We could allow this whole thing to fly through our communities and simply have a bunch of relatively sick people doing the old-school chicken pox treatment for the next couple of months, while hiding our old and chronically ill.  Heck, we’ve got tons of empty cruise ships now, let’s give those old people an amazing vacation.  They can spend the next couple of months tooling around the open waters playing shuffleboard while the rest of us work to keep our world together.  And when they come back, we’ll have built up a fantastic herd immunity, kept the economy running, and they’ll have tans.

I haven’t run the numbers.  I’m not an epidemiologist.  But, I have to say, if the whole point of this thing is to keep the high risk away from the disease, let’s keep the high risk away from the disease.  But let the rest of us continue on, keeping the world moving forward to a brighter tomorrow.

My wife, as someone who is considered at risk, is not a fan of this idea…

And no, I’m sure if I were to really dig in, there’s probably good reason this wouldn’t work, even beyond the absolute insanity of putting our old and sick into concentration camps.  Heck, if one person were to get in who is sick, I’m sure the label of concentration camp could get attached pretty darn quickly.  It’s not a perfect solution.  But I can’t help thinking that there has to be some better solution than simply shutting everything down.  I don’t get out much, but I’d hate to see what happens to our world when no one does.

As always, have fun out there…but be safe.  #TheGreatHumanHunker2020

Chapter 16: Hold up…

Hold up a second.  All of this is in my head.  Only things I’m thinking.  At least I think it is.  Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, what exactly is reality anyway outside of pure thought.  Memory?  I mean, sure, we might live in the present, but really, we’re just remembering things as they happen.  Everything we experience…it’s just memory.

And if we can consider all of that true, then what is the difference between reality and fiction? I can remember a story that I read almost as well as I can remember my own personal history.  And if I’m able to place myself in the position of the main character of the story, then, well, I mean, wouldn’t that reality be just as real as real reality?

And so, taking that further, what I’m experiencing now, being inside my own story, well, that’s just simply my own thought experiment being taken a little further than expected and becoming my current reality.

And with all of that in mind, I should simply be able to get out of this story by determining my reality to be the one that I was in before I arrived in my own tale.

Or…could I make my reality even better than the one I started out with?  Instead of being some shlub working at a desk at a job that’s okay, but not exactly one where I’m appreciated, where I find myself wishing I had more time to write and more recognition for my artistic abilities, I could be all those things.  Heck, I could just choose to be rich and living somewhere sunny and warm all the time where the babes in bikinis flow like the legendary milk and honey of the promised land.

Actually…the phrasing on that last statement could have been a lot better.

Ugh…now I’ve got the entirely wrong image in my head.

Damn, this whole reality thing has got me really hung up now.  I mean, if I can truly make my reality whatever I want it to be, then why in the world have I had it be such a lame thing for so long?  Lame’s probably not the best term.  Sure, I’ve got it pretty good.  I live comfortably.  I’ve got an amazing wife and kids.  Heck, I even love the farm most of the time, even if it’s exhausting.  And in Wisconsin…

And, actually, writing as a career sounds terrifying.  At least with my current state of fame, I can write whatever I want without any real expectations.

Like this weird story.

That I really should get back to.

Because, well, I guess even though I think I know how to get out of it, I kinda feel like I should ride it out to completion.

No one likes a half-finished story.

Even if it will never see the light of day.

Even if it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

Even if it’s already gone so far off the rails I can’t understand how a single person would ever want to read it.

Even if–

“Hey,” Jessica said, snapping her fingers in front of Adam’s face, “are you alive in there?”

“Oh, crap, yeah, sorry, I was just–”

“Great, so, what do you think?  Is this the place?”

Jessica gestured in front of us from her place seated in front of me on the motorcycle.  The warmth of her body against mine begins to cause sensations I’ve never–

Hey, wait a second.  Badger, you’re screwing around with me again, aren’t you?

Adam hears a faint chuckling in the back of his mind.

He jumps off the bike, deciding to ignore the feelings that had been placed there by the mischievous muse, and look at the location Jessica had brought them to.

A large dark lighthouse stood above them, easily over two hundred feet tall.  The darkness of the lighthouse immediately marked this building as something different to Adam, as he was much more accustomed to lighthouses being painted in colors that made them visible.  This one, however, looked like it was trying to blend in with the background.

That was nearly impossible, however, with the column of fire exploding from it’s roof and stretching directly up into space.

And spread out around the base of the structure were a group of robed individuals, holding hands and chanting something vaguely demonic.

“Um, yeah, I guess this is probably the place.  Couldn’t think of anything more Lovecraftian than this.”

 

Chapter 15: Stop or my Character will Shoot

Adam raised his hands to the air.

“Whoa!  I’m helping, I promise.  Just tell me what to do.”

“I think the better question is, what can you do?  You and this Badger fella seem to have all sorts of powers.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I thought, until you shot him dead.”

“I’m okay,” The Badger groaned.

Jessica shot him again, and again the bullet went through his skull, causing his head to become nothing more than a steaming pile of red goo.

The Badger decided that now might be the best time for him to sit out for a while.  Adam recognized this and became incredibly angry that he hadn’t been shot.  However, he also decided he wasn’t willing to try it, as he wasn’t sure he would have quite the same fate as the immortal being which apparently resided in his head.

“What are you doing just standing there and staring at me?” Jessica asked, obviously angry.  “Come on, let’s go stop us some monsters.”

“And how do you suppose we’re going to do that?”

“The most obvious way possible,” Jessica said, as though she had read a book or something which would tell her exactly how to get out of a situation like this.  “We go tell the cultists who summoned these beasts to send them back home.”

“So, that might work for the one monster, but Carl wasn’t summoned.  He’s just a boy who is addicted to boogers.”

“What?” Jessica scowled at Adam.  She considered leaving him on the spot, but also realized that this guy’s supernatural abilities might be useful.

“Nevermind.  You know where the cultists are?”

“No, but I can bet we can find them.  Where’s the nearest lighthouse?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t design the city that far out.”

“Okay, well, if you did, where would the lighthouse be?”  Jessica had many questions regarding the odd way this man spoke, but decided to play along so that she could deal with the issue at hand.

“I guess like 50 miles west of here, near a harbor.”

“Then that’s where we’re going.”

“You got a car or something?” Adam asked, noting the motorcycle she had ridden in on and realizing that every time he had attempted to drive a motorcycle he was too short to reach everything effectively.  Not that he was all that short or anything.  Yeah, sure, Napoleon was also 5’7″, but calling him short was historically inaccurate because the average height at the time was 5’5″, not to mention that 5’7″ isn’t really all that short when you get out of the Midwest, and in places like Mexico he feels like a giant–

“Did you hear me?” Jessica asked.

“Um, no,” Adam replied.

“I said climb onto the back of my bike.  We’ll get there in no time.”

“Oh, great.”  Adam frowned.  He hated riding bitch.  Not that it was all that emasculating or anything, but that he hated feeling not in–

“Come on!” Jessica shouted from her seat on the motorcycle.  “Let’s act like we’ve got a city to save here!”

“Wait!” Adam shouted, causing Jessica to stop and turn to look at him, rather interested, but also slightly annoyed, but mostly hopeful that Adam had an actual idea of how to get them all out of this mess.

“Well?” Jessica asked, hoping Adam would elaborate.

“I just realized something!  So, like, humans think we’re special because we can think, right?  So, we figure there must be something different about us, something that matters.  That’s why we believe in the gods, whether or not any of them exist, because we believe there has to be something more because we have all this power to think and reason and create and whatever.  But then humans got all disappointed because they realized that even though they might be special, they spend a majority of their time doing the most absolutely mundane things, like their day job, or folding laundry or whatever else.  In fact, that’s why fiction exists, is so that we can, in some small way, live out our own special lives like we believe we’re owed because we each think there is something special about us, even though, in reality, we spend all of our time doing things pretty similarly to every other animal out there, following patterns and routines and just getting through the daily chores to make sure we survive.”

“And your point?” Jessica asked, quickly coming to the realization that there wasn’t one.

“My point is, even today we struggle with these same thoughts, even though today we’re actually doing some amazing things.  Well, maybe not each one of us individually, but people are right now living in space.  People are traveling to the deepest depths of the oceans.  We took a picture of a friggin’ black hole.  In America especially, most of us don’t have to struggle to eat, or find a place to sleep, or even to find something to do with our lives, as opposed to a majority of the world for most of human history.  Yet we still struggle to figure out how we can prove to ourselves that we’re as special as we think we are.”

“This isn’t going to have anything to do with the monsters is it?”

“That’s exactly my point.  We’re all monsters in a way.  We complain about how little we matter in this world, which is really just a reflection of how unhappy we are that we aren’t as special as we think we are because of how we can freaking think and we worry that we’re not all that much different from the animals, even though we have this one awesome thing that most definitely separates us and–”

“Who says animals can’t think?” Jessica asked.

Adam paused.

“Well, I mean, they can’t, can they?  They’re not really, like, advancing themselves or anything.”

“Maybe that’s because they don’t really think they need to.  Maybe they like how they are.  Maybe they see themselves as special because of how they are doing the thing that only they can do within their given biome and–”

“Holy crap!” Adam yelled.  “The monsters are headed downtown!”

“Right,” Jessica said with a frown.  “The second the woman has a thought about your weird philosophical rant, you’re ready to finally focus on the monsters.”

“Umm,” Adam said slowly.  He didn’t want to admit that he had been stalling and using his own source of depression to sound as though he had had an idea.  And Jessica was starting to make sense.  He didn’t know if he was ready to have a breakthrough in his therapy when he hadn’t even had therapy yet.  Not to mention that he was currently struggling with a pretty severe mental delusion which involved him living out a fantasy world he had created.  “No, you’re good.  I just forgot about the monsters or something.”

The engine revved to life and the two of them rode west.

Chapter 14: Danger Isn’t a Middle Name

“You were expecting me?” Jessica asked, her eyes never leaving the giant beasts overhead.

“Adam, meet Jessica Trelawnty, the self-proclaimed number one expert in all things paranormal,” The Badger declared with his hands importantly placed upon his hips.

“And you know you I am?” Jessica’s attention turned toward the men at this realization.  “No one knows who I am.”

“Couldn’t you have come up with someone who is definitively the number one expert,” Adam asked, “instead of just someone who claims to be such?”

“We need a little bit of drama, don’t we?  Gotta keep the readers interested.”

“What readers?” Jessica asked.

“Yeah, what readers?” Adam repeated.

The Badger laughed loudly at Adam’s comment.  Adam merely frowned.

Jessica looked at the two in confusion.  “Did neither of you notice my dramatic entrance, appearing right at your sides on a motorcycle as buildings crumbled all around me?”

“No,” Adam answered.

“I actually cut that bit, just to get through the drivel a little bit more.”

“You’d think you’d cut all this stupid dialogue between the two of us, then,” Adam said with a scowl.

“My point being, I came here all excitedly and you two are too busy talking about some book you’re working on or something.  Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”  Jessica gestured wildly at the two monsters who both let out an amazingly large roar as they ran toward each other, resulting in a loud thudding of meat which echoed through the hills.

“Oh, yeah, that,” The Badger smirked.  “So, you’re all good at this paranormal stuff, right?  Can you deal with those two while my author and I go off and find some place to hide.  We’re not really sure how this whole fictional insanity thing works, but it would really not work out well for either of us to find out that if we die in this book we somehow die in the real world.”

“Aren’t you immortal?” Adam asked.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean–”

“What the hell are you two talking about?  We have two class 40 monsters roaming around the city here and you’re babbling on about nothing.  Heck, they might even be class 50 for all I can tell from this vantage point.”

“Right,” The Badger replied, “so, deal with it already.”

“You want me to deal with it?” Jessica huffed.  “Just, like, run over there and ask the two monsters to politely find some other place to take care of their business far and away from the habitats of humans so you two can continue on talking about whatever nonsense you’ve been talking about.”

“Yeah, if you think that will work.  That sounds great,” The Badger answered hopefully.  “Do that.”

“And aren’t you supposed to be The Badger, the guy the entire United States government has backed to stop situations like these?” Jessica asked.

“Oh, that was a while back, back before I actually had to get directly involved.”

“So you’re saying that now that everything has gotten all real, you’re too afraid to do what’s necessary?”

“I hadn’t come up with how this was all going to be resolved when I started the story.”

“You two are just hopeless.  Here I thought I was coming to find some of the most amazing events in human history, what with you two appearing to have some sort of god-like powers, while also being here at the time of the arrival of the titans, but it turns out you’re both just–”

“If I had known that this was all going to happen when I brought the monster into it, then I wouldn’t have–”

“I knew it!” Jessica shouted, her eyes widening as she stepped threateningly toward The Badger.  “You are the reason the monsters are here!”

“Well, yeah,” Adam began, “but the reality is that we really didn’t think we were going to have to deal with it firsthand.”

“I should have known,” Jessica said, pulling out a pistol from her hip holster than the narrator really should have thought about making sure to say she didn’t have.  “You two are cultists!  That’s the only way you could possibly have this much power.  Now stop this damned mess or I swear to God I will put a bullet in both of your heads faster than you can–”

“Now listen here,” The Badger said, approaching Jessica grumpily, “I made you–”

BLAM

Jessica pulled the trigger and a bullet went directly through The Badgers skull, causing him to fall flat.

She pointed the weapon at Adam, who was now freaking out quite thoroughly.

“Okay big guy, what about you. Do you want to stop this or am I going to have to stop you as well?”