Les Lynam's Blog: Time Will Tell, page 2
April 22, 2015
Two Future Earth Days
People seemed to like the tale I spun for Story Hop. Here are a couple of Earth Days that may or may not come to pass:
April 22, 2059
Mingxia was on edge. Her eyes darted from her console to the door and then to the chronograph app open on her wrist unit.
“You seem tense, Mingxia,” Jian-Min prompted as he sipped his tea.
“You are mistaken, Jian-Min, I am straining to contain my excitement.”
“It is almost time. The sun has set. Soon the last of daylight will pass.”
Mingxia wished she had been able to see that sunset… her last sunset. “Soon all will be brighter,” she said stoically.
“Very much so. I imagine our people in Australia will be amazed by our display,” Jian-Min said with a smile. “It will be difficult for many years, but we have many leaders in places that will allow them to take charge and reshape what remains. Gaea will heal herself and be better for the cleansing.”
Mingxia shuddered, then quickly gathered her nerves, hoping Jian-Min did not see. “I am envious of those who remain to assist with Gaea’s new birth,” she sighed.
“Mingxia! Our names will forever be on the lips of our people. We have made it all possible!”
“Yes, of course,” Mingxia replied. She reflexively dipped a brief bow to the console she faced.
‘It is time,” Jian-Min declared as he set his empty cup on the pedestal that held his family’s ceremonial tea service. “Initiate the program.”
Mingxia typed in the code-word. Her finger briefly hovered over the enter key. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pressed the key. She stared at her console in shock. She had helped write the program. It would take less than a second to link to all of the radar stations on the military net. At the same time, jammers would cause all of the radar stations that were not on the net to crash.
“I have contacted our family in Zhanjiang harbor. They have begun the countdown on their bomb.”
“At least it will end quickly for them,” Mingxia lamented.
“Do you know the significance of this day, Mingxia?” Jian-Min asked, then continued when she didn’t reply, “It is the 99th Anniversary of the farce the American’s call ‘Earth Day’. A day when they pretend they care about our planet.”
“Jian-Min!” Mingxia interrupted. “Look at the screen! It is beginning!”
Excited chatter filled the radio waves all across China as the simulated missiles moved into radar screens all along the military net.
“It is beginning,” she whispered, but her thoughts said, “It is the end.”
April 22, 2059
Mingxia was on edge. Her eyes darted from her console to the door and then to the chronograph app open on her wrist unit.
“You seem tense, Mingxia,” Jian-Min prompted as he sipped his tea.
“You are mistaken, Jian-Min, I am straining to contain my excitement.”
“It is almost time. The sun has set. Soon the last of daylight will pass.”
Mingxia wished she had been able to see that sunset… her last sunset. “Soon all will be brighter,” she said stoically.
“Very much so. I imagine our people in Australia will be amazed by our display,” Jian-Min said with a smile. “It will be difficult for many years, but we have many leaders in places that will allow them to take charge and reshape what remains. Gaea will heal herself and be better for the cleansing.”
Mingxia shuddered, then quickly gathered her nerves, hoping Jian-Min did not see. “I am envious of those who remain to assist with Gaea’s new birth,” she sighed.
“Mingxia! Our names will forever be on the lips of our people. We have made it all possible!”
“Yes, of course,” Mingxia replied. She reflexively dipped a brief bow to the console she faced.
‘It is time,” Jian-Min declared as he set his empty cup on the pedestal that held his family’s ceremonial tea service. “Initiate the program.”
Mingxia typed in the code-word. Her finger briefly hovered over the enter key. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pressed the key. She stared at her console in shock. She had helped write the program. It would take less than a second to link to all of the radar stations on the military net. At the same time, jammers would cause all of the radar stations that were not on the net to crash.
“I have contacted our family in Zhanjiang harbor. They have begun the countdown on their bomb.”
“At least it will end quickly for them,” Mingxia lamented.
“Do you know the significance of this day, Mingxia?” Jian-Min asked, then continued when she didn’t reply, “It is the 99th Anniversary of the farce the American’s call ‘Earth Day’. A day when they pretend they care about our planet.”
“Jian-Min!” Mingxia interrupted. “Look at the screen! It is beginning!”
Excited chatter filled the radio waves all across China as the simulated missiles moved into radar screens all along the military net.
“It is beginning,” she whispered, but her thoughts said, “It is the end.”
April 22, 2061
She quietly slipped into the room behind her husband. “Jon? What are you looking for?”
“Call me a sentimental fool, Quin,” he said as he turned to her. “But today is Earth Day. I think it’s the 101st Earth Day, if I remember my history correctly.”
“So why are you out here?” Quin asked.
“It’s just a couple of weeks past opposition. About 98 million kilometers and running away from us. Closest we’ve been since 2054.”
“Jon, hydroponics 57 has given up all hope. They’re going to open their bubble in hopes that the blight won’t spread.”
“I know, Quin. I heard.” He turned back to his telescope.
“I don’t see how you can sit here so calmly stargazing,” Quin shouted.
“I guess it’s the symbolism,” he replied wearily. “Earth Day. Wanted to see if the old girl is getting any better.”
“Better?” Quin snarled.
“I think the dust has settled another few degrees of longitude in the northern hemisphere. Nothing to see but ice, though.”
“With all of our problems here on Mars, why do you care what happens there?”
“Still seems like the old hometown, Quin. I guess I’m pulling for her. Wish I could see how it turns out.”
Quin threw her arms around her husband and dropped tears onto his shoulder.
Jon turned and pulled his wife’s head against his chest. “Can’t say your old Granddad didn’t warn you.” He shook his head slowly. “I wonder how he knew?”
“Oh, Jon!” Quin sobbed.
“Shhhh… there’s nothing we can do. This potato blight just makes the food supply that much shorter. I’m 49, Quin. I just wanted to say goodbye to the old homestead on my Last Earth Day.”
# # # # # # #
In case you haven’t read my OTHER posts, this is a sneaky way to get you to go back. There are some linking clues in my first blog as well as this last one from the Story Hop. Also, these stories contain some hints about what’s to come in Time Will Tell books 4 and 5.
I’d appreciate it if you take a minute to comment. If you enjoy the short stories, let me know. If not. Let me know. Thanks!
April 9, 2015
Story Hop: “Look at those cavemen go. It’s the freakiest show…”
The young man cracked open the door to the dim room and slid quietly inside.
“Grandad?”
“Hmmm?”
“Grandad, are you awake?”
“Hmmm? Of course I’m awake. I try to stay awake as many hours of the day as I can. Not that many left.”
The room fell silent.
“Grandad, would it be all right if I opened the blinds a little more?”
“Suit yourself.”
The young man touched his wrist band and a holographic screen popped open inches above his wrist. He pushed several screens aside, then selected an icon on one of them. “Fifty percent,” he said. The glass adjusted its transparency.
“How are you feeling today, Grandad?”
“Still breathing. In and out. In and out. Kind of monotonous if you ask me.”
The old man pushed a tiny baton on the arm of his chair and the chair swiveled to face the doorway of the compact room. He squinted at the form standing by the door.
“So… Alex… What brings you by?”
“August.”
“Hmmm?”
“August, Grandad. Alex is a character in your books.”
“August? Are you sure?”
“Ever since I was born… in 2012.”
“Twenty-twelve, twenty-twelve, twenty-twelve,” the old man muttered.
“Grandad, have you been taking your medicine?”
The young man’s sigh was the only sound in the room.
“Dad said you wanted to see me about something important.”
“Yes. Yes, Alex. Very important. Yes. But you were supposed to bring your sister, Jane.”
The young man took a deep breath. “August,” he said through clenched teeth. “My sister’s name is Quin. We are not characters in your books.”
The old man stared at the corner of the room. He blinked a few times, then turned back to his grandson. “How old are you now, Alex?”
August turned his face to the floor and blew out a breath. “I need to go, Grandad. You’re not having a very good day today.” He turned and jerked the door open.
“Wait, Alex,” the old man said desperately, “Don’t go! I’ll call you August, if that’s what you want. Don’t go. It’s too important! Please. How old are you now?”
August turned back and let the door slide closed. “I’m 27, Grandad,” he sighed.
“Twenty-seven… twenty-twelve, twenty-seven, twenty-twelve,” the old man chanted. “That doesn’t seem possible. That would make it… 2039. Twenty-thirty-nine… twenty-fifty-nine. Only twenty more years. You should sell everything you have in fifteen years and buy land in Belize… or maybe Ecuador. What type of governments do they have now?” He waved a hand as if erasing a chalkboard. “Doesn’t matter. Someplace safe and south of the Yucatan. And north of Argentina.”
August nodded as if he finally understood. “Because of the Dark Decades?”
The old man looked to his left then right with suspicious eyes. He whispered, “Who told you about the Dark Decades?”
“You did, Grandad,” August replied, “I’ve read all your books. I like the fourth one best. Dark Decades. That dystopian stuff was pretty good.”
“Did I?” The old man was confused. “Books. Books. Oh! Those books. I wrote them to try to help me make sense of the dreams. Then I found…” He stopped speaking as he suddenly propelled his chair over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. He reached in, then swiveled his chair to face his grandson. The gnarled fingers of his clenched fist unfurled. “This.” He pushed on the baton and his chair crossed to August.
August lifted the object for a closer look. Most of the black paint had chipped off the ears and nose. “Some kind of dog?”
“Snoopy. Pull his head. Pull his head.”
August pulled the head and body apart. “OK… his head comes off.”
“Look at it boy! It’s a jump drive!”
August slid the head back over the shiny metal tab. “What’s a jump drive?”
“For computers! It stores data and you can carry it around easily.”
“This contains data?” August touched his wrist pad and his holo-screen reappeared. He passed the object through the screen. Nothing happened. He passed it through again. “There’s no data in here.”
“You have to plug it into a computer! Never mind. Where’s your sister? I need to tell both of you. Did you bring… I’m sorry… what is it you want me to call Jane?”
“Quin. My little sister’s name is Quin. My older sister’s name is Marta. How come you don’t need to talk to her?”
The old man waved his hand as if waving away a fly. “Marta’s married and has children. She’s not going to Mars.”
“Mars?” August questioned.
“Your father told me that Ja…” He paused. He closed his eyes shut tightly. His entire face wrinkled. “Quin. He said Quin wants to go to Mars.”
“She’s thinking about it. But not for at least another ten years. Once they get a little more established.”
“The second Mars colony is a failure!” the old man shrieked. “Not as bad as the first, and it probably would have worked well if it wasn’t for being cut off from Earth for more than thirty years. They killed the oldest for food. No one over fifty.” He made a slashing motion across his throat.
“Grandad, you’re confused. You’re getting reality mixed up with your stories.”
“I’m not,” he shouted. “I was born on Mars! In 2185! A time-traveler kidnapped me as a toddler and dropped me off in rural Iowa in the 1950s! To her dying day, my sister wouldn’t admit that I was adopted. But I’ve got proof! Ask your dad to show you old family photos from when I was little. There’s a picture of me holding that Snoopy. Jump drives weren’t invented until… I don’t remember… sometime around the turn of the century. It’s all in there! Read it!”
“I gotta go, Grandad.” August slipped out through the door.
“Don’t let her go!” the old man screamed. “Don’t let Jane go to Mars! They’ll eat her!”
A nurse stepped into the room. “Mr. Lynam? Your Grandson thought you might need a sedative.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
August slid into the car. “Quin’s apartment.” The car pulled away from the curb and started down the street.
“How was he?” Quin asked her brother.
“A little cray.” He handed her the Snoopy.
“A little?”
“Mega-cray,” August sighed.
“Poor Grandad.”*********************************
Back to Story Hop:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/…
Story Hop: "Look at those cavemen go. It's the freakiest show..."
The young man cracked open the door to the dim room and slid quietly inside.
“Grandad?”
“Hmmm?”
“Grandad, are you awake?”
“Hmmm? Of course I’m awake. I try to stay awake as many hours of the day as I can. Not that many left.”
The room fell silent.
“Grandad, would it be all right if I opened the blinds a little more?”
“Suit yourself.”
The young man touched his wrist band and a holographic screen popped open inches above his wrist. He pushed several screens aside, then selected an icon on one of them. “Fifty percent,” he said. The glass adjusted its transparency.
“How are you feeling today, Grandad?”
“Still breathing. In and out. In and out. Kind of monotonous if you ask me.”
The old man pushed a tiny baton on the arm of his chair and the chair swiveled to face the doorway of the compact room. He squinted at the form standing by the door.
“So… Alex… What brings you by?”
“August.”
“Hmmm?”
“August, Grandad. Alex is a character in your books.”
“August? Are you sure?”
“Ever since I was born… in 2012.”
“Twenty-twelve, twenty-twelve, twenty-twelve,” the old man muttered.
“Grandad, have you been taking your medicine?”
The young man’s sigh was the only sound in the room.
“Dad said you wanted to see me about something important.”
“Yes. Yes, Alex. Very important. Yes. But you were supposed to bring your sister, Jane.”
The young man took a deep breath. “August,” he said through clenched teeth. “My sister’s name is Quin. We are not characters in your books.”
The old man stared at the corner of the room. He blinked a few times, then turned back to his grandson. “How old are you now, Alex?”
August turned his face to the floor and blew out a breath. “I need to go, Grandad. You’re not having a very good day today.” He turned and jerked the door open.
“Wait, Alex,” the old man said desperately, “Don’t go! I’ll call you August, if that’s what you want. Don’t go. It’s too important! Please. How old are you now?”
August turned back and let the door slide closed. “I’m 27, Grandad,” he sighed.
“Twenty-seven… twenty-twelve, twenty-seven, twenty-twelve,” the old man chanted. “That doesn’t seem possible. That would make it… 2039. Twenty-thirty-nine… twenty-fifty-nine. Only twenty more years. You should sell everything you have in fifteen years and buy land in Belize… or maybe Ecuador. What type of governments do they have now?” He waved a hand as if erasing a chalkboard. “Doesn’t matter. Someplace safe and south of the Yucatan. And north of Argentina.”
August nodded as if he finally understood. “Because of the Dark Decades?”
The old man looked to his left then right with suspicious eyes. He whispered, “Who told you about the Dark Decades?”
“You did, Grandad,” August replied, “I’ve read all your books. I like the fourth one best. Dark Decades. That dystopian stuff was pretty good.”
“Did I?” The old man was confused. “Books. Books. Oh! Those books. I wrote them to try to help me make sense of the dreams. Then I found…” He stopped speaking as he suddenly propelled his chair over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. He reached in, then swiveled his chair to face his grandson. The gnarled fingers of his clenched fist unfurled. “This.” He pushed on the baton and his chair crossed to August.
August lifted the object for a closer look. Most of the black paint had chipped off the ears and nose. “Some kind of dog?”
“Snoopy. Pull his head. Pull his head.”
August pulled the head and body apart. “OK… his head comes off.”
“Look at it boy! It’s a jump drive!”
August slid the head back over the shiny metal tab. “What’s a jump drive?”
“For computers! It stores data and you can carry it around easily.”
“This contains data?” August touched his wrist pad and his holo-screen reappeared. He passed the object through the screen. Nothing happened. He passed it through again. “There’s no data in here.”
“You have to plug it into a computer! Never mind. Where’s your sister? I need to tell both of you. Did you bring… I’m sorry… what is it you want me to call Jane?”
“Quin. My little sister’s name is Quin. My older sister’s name is Marta. How come you don’t need to talk to her?”
The old man waved his hand as if waving away a fly. “Marta’s married and has children. She’s not going to Mars.”
“Mars?” August questioned.
“Your father told me that Ja…” He paused. He closed his eyes shut tightly. His entire face wrinkled. “Quin. He said Quin wants to go to Mars.”
“She’s thinking about it. But not for at least another ten years. Once they get a little more established.”
“The second Mars colony is a failure!” the old man shrieked. “Not as bad as the first, and it probably would have worked well if it wasn’t for being cut off from Earth for more than thirty years. They killed the oldest for food. No one over fifty.” He made a slashing motion across his throat.
“Grandad, you’re confused. You’re getting reality mixed up with your stories.”
“I’m not,” he shouted. “I was born on Mars! In 2185! A time-traveler kidnapped me as a toddler and dropped me off in rural Iowa in the 1950s! To her dying day, my sister wouldn’t admit that I was adopted. But I’ve got proof! Ask your dad to show you old family photos from when I was little. There’s a picture of me holding that Snoopy. Jump drives weren’t invented until… I don’t remember… sometime around the turn of the century. It’s all in there! Read it!”
“I gotta go, Grandad.” August slipped out through the door.
“Don’t let her go!” the old man screamed. “Don’t let Jane go to Mars! They’ll eat her!”
A nurse stepped into the room. “Mr. Lynam? Your Grandson thought you might need a sedative.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
August slid into the car. “Quin’s apartment.” The car pulled away from the curb and started down the street.
“How was he?” Quin asked her brother.
“A little cray.” He handed her the Snoopy.
“A little?”
“Mega-cray,” August sighed.
“Poor Grandad.”
*********************************
Back to Story Hop:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
April 6, 2015
Topic: The Moon. Harsh Mistress or Way, Way Out? Discuss
If you follow my author Facebook page, you may have noticed a Candorville cartoon I posted on 3/25. And here it is again:
Pay particular attention to panel three where Lemont says, “Why don’t we have cities on the moon by now? We can do it.”Much to my chagrin, I’m resigned to the fact there will not be a moon base during my lifetime… and there should have been! (I suppose I still have an outside chance if: 1. The Chinese do it. 2. Some billionaire who thinks they can make some big bucks by building a moon hotel does it. or 3. Medical science has some breakthroughs that extend life expectancy well beyond 100 years.)So… who out there picked up the references from this blog title? (I’ll wait while you go back to read it.) Did I hear someone shout out “Robert Heinlein”? Very good. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, written by Heinlein in 1966 (his 4th and final Hugo Award winner, 1967) took place on a very extensive moon colony in roughly 2075. Heinlein’s earlier works hinted at a moonbase in the 1980s. We missed that one, and I’m pret
ty sure that even if there is some kind of ‘base’ on the moon by 2075, it won’t be nearly as extensive as the one Heinlein imagined.Second reference? Anyone? Any guesses? (sound of crickets chirping) No? Probably a little too obscure. The only thing in common is the moonbase and the year 1966. The second reference is to a Jerry Lewis movie I saw as a kid: Way, Way Out. I’m sure if I ever see it again that I’d dismiss it as cheesy. (you’re following these moon references and asides aren’t you?) As a preteen, I was pretty impressed. What’s not to love? Rockets, spacesuits, moonbases, Russians (cold war… look it up if you’re too young to know what that is), and {sigh} Connie Stevens ! I had a major kid-crush on Cricket Blake.
Pay particular attention to panel three where Lemont says, “Why don’t we have cities on the moon by now? We can do it.”Much to my chagrin, I’m resigned to the fact there will not be a moon base during my lifetime… and there should have been! (I suppose I still have an outside chance if: 1. The Chinese do it. 2. Some billionaire who thinks they can make some big bucks by building a moon hotel does it. or 3. Medical science has some breakthroughs that extend life expectancy well beyond 100 years.)So… who out there picked up the references from this blog title? (I’ll wait while you go back to read it.) Did I hear someone shout out “Robert Heinlein”? Very good. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, written by Heinlein in 1966 (his 4th and final Hugo Award winner, 1967) took place on a very extensive moon colony in roughly 2075. Heinlein’s earlier works hinted at a moonbase in the 1980s. We missed that one, and I’m pret
ty sure that even if there is some kind of ‘base’ on the moon by 2075, it won’t be nearly as extensive as the one Heinlein imagined.Second reference? Anyone? Any guesses? (sound of crickets chirping) No? Probably a little too obscure. The only thing in common is the moonbase and the year 1966. The second reference is to a Jerry Lewis movie I saw as a kid: Way, Way Out. I’m sure if I ever see it again that I’d dismiss it as cheesy. (you’re following these moon references and asides aren’t you?) As a preteen, I was pretty impressed. What’s not to love? Rockets, spacesuits, moonbases, Russians (cold war… look it up if you’re too young to know what that is), and {sigh} Connie Stevens ! I had a major kid-crush on Cricket Blake.(Something else for you to look up. Hint. Hawaiian Eye on imdb.com). Of course there was that titillating bit about sex-on-the-moon! (Off camera, of course, but I seem to remember Ms. Stevens and co-star Anita Ekberg in some racy lingerie… you know, I’ll bet it wasn’t that racy… I was a kid!).So, there we are. The moon. Serious sci-fi and silly sit-com. And I loved it! Maybe that’s why I featured a bit about Apollo 11 in my first book, and mentioned it again in the second one. But more likely, it’s because I grew up in a decade when it seemed real, seemed possible.
Take a look/listen to this youtube clip:
If you didn’t get a chill at the 1:45 mark, then you can’t possibly understand what I’m ranting about.
♪♫♪Press your space face close to mine, love♪♫♪
♪♫♪Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah♪♫♪
Topic: The Moon. Harsh Mistress or Way, Way Out? Discuss.
If you read my author Facebook page, you may have noticed a Candorville cartoon I posted on 3/25. (If not: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fb...) Pay particular attention to panel three where Lemont says, "Why don't we have cities on the moon by now? We can do it."
Much to my chagrin, I'm resigned to the fact there will not be a moon base during my lifetime... and there should have been! (I suppose I still have an outside chance if: 1. The Chinese do it. 2. Some billionaire who thinks they can make some big bucks by building a moon hotel does it. or 3. Medical science has some breakthroughs that extend life expectancy well beyond 100 years.)
So... who out there picked up the references from this blog title? (I'll wait while you go back to read it.) Did I hear someone shout out "Robert Heinlein"? Very good. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, written by Heinlein in 1966 (his 4th and final Hugo Award winner, 1967) took place on a very extensive moon colony in roughly 2075. Heinlein's earlier works hinted at a moonbase in the 1980s. We missed that one, and I'm pretty sure that even if there is some kind of 'base' on the moon by 2075, it won't be nearly as extensive as the one Heinlein imagined.
Second reference? Anyone? Any guesses? (sound of crickets chirping) No? Probably a little too obscure. The only thing in common is the moonbase and the year 1966. The second reference is to a Jerry Lewis movie I saw as a kid: Way, Way Out. I'm sure if I ever see it again that I'd dismiss it as cheesy. (you're following these moon references and asides aren't you?) As a preteen, I was pretty impressed. What's not to love? Rockets, spacesuits, moonbases, Russians (cold war... look it up if you're too young to know what that is), and {sigh} Connie Stevens ! I had a major kid-crush on Cricket Blake. (Something else for you to look up. Hint. Hawaiian Eye on imdb.com). Of course there was that titillating bit about sex-on-the-moon! (Off camera, of course, but I seem to remember Ms. Stevens and co-star Anita Ekberg in some racy lingerie... you know, I'll bet it wasn't that racy... I was a kid!).
So, there we are. The moon. Serious sci-fi and silly sit-com. And I loved it! Maybe that's why I featured a bit about Apollo 11 in my first book, and mentioned it again in the second one. But more likely, it's because I grew up in a decade when it seemed real, seemed possible. Take a look/listen to this youtube clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g25G1...
If you didn't get a chill at the 1:45 mark, then you can't possibly understand what I'm ranting about.
♪♫♪Press your space face close to mine, love♪♫♪
♪♫♪Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah♪♫♪
Much to my chagrin, I'm resigned to the fact there will not be a moon base during my lifetime... and there should have been! (I suppose I still have an outside chance if: 1. The Chinese do it. 2. Some billionaire who thinks they can make some big bucks by building a moon hotel does it. or 3. Medical science has some breakthroughs that extend life expectancy well beyond 100 years.)
So... who out there picked up the references from this blog title? (I'll wait while you go back to read it.) Did I hear someone shout out "Robert Heinlein"? Very good. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, written by Heinlein in 1966 (his 4th and final Hugo Award winner, 1967) took place on a very extensive moon colony in roughly 2075. Heinlein's earlier works hinted at a moonbase in the 1980s. We missed that one, and I'm pretty sure that even if there is some kind of 'base' on the moon by 2075, it won't be nearly as extensive as the one Heinlein imagined.
Second reference? Anyone? Any guesses? (sound of crickets chirping) No? Probably a little too obscure. The only thing in common is the moonbase and the year 1966. The second reference is to a Jerry Lewis movie I saw as a kid: Way, Way Out. I'm sure if I ever see it again that I'd dismiss it as cheesy. (you're following these moon references and asides aren't you?) As a preteen, I was pretty impressed. What's not to love? Rockets, spacesuits, moonbases, Russians (cold war... look it up if you're too young to know what that is), and {sigh} Connie Stevens ! I had a major kid-crush on Cricket Blake. (Something else for you to look up. Hint. Hawaiian Eye on imdb.com). Of course there was that titillating bit about sex-on-the-moon! (Off camera, of course, but I seem to remember Ms. Stevens and co-star Anita Ekberg in some racy lingerie... you know, I'll bet it wasn't that racy... I was a kid!).
So, there we are. The moon. Serious sci-fi and silly sit-com. And I loved it! Maybe that's why I featured a bit about Apollo 11 in my first book, and mentioned it again in the second one. But more likely, it's because I grew up in a decade when it seemed real, seemed possible. Take a look/listen to this youtube clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g25G1...
If you didn't get a chill at the 1:45 mark, then you can't possibly understand what I'm ranting about.
♪♫♪Press your space face close to mine, love♪♫♪
♪♫♪Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah♪♫♪
March 28, 2015
♪♫♪ Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? ♪♫♪
What is so fascinating about time? I mean, enough to churn my imagination into fictional stories about Time-Travel? Along the same lines as the question: "If a tree falls in the forest, and no one hears it, was there sound?" I pose: "If human beings weren't around to be aware of it, would time exist?"
Animals don't wear watches (or carry phones, for those youngsters out there that don't relate to watches), and as far as I can tell, they don't keep appointment books, either. We humans are the keepers and worriers of time. I don't think animals are ever 'late', or wish they had more time in the day, or feel pressures from looming deadlines. So have we humans invented the concept of time? Does our own cognizance (which separates us from the animals?) create time?
With time itself an enigmatic cerebral back-flip, why would anyone want to make up stuff about Time-Travel? Who, you may ask, was first to do so? Yes, you in the back, waving your hand madly and grunting 'ooo, ooo, I know, I know'. H.G. Wells, you say? A reasonable guess, and possibly correct if you want to specifically label Time-Travel as Science Fiction, but other forms of literature have flirted with the concept well before the 1895 publication date of The Time Machine. Wikipedia (yep, I know. Why is a former librarian quoting Wikipedia?), mentions that Hindu writings from 700 BC are primal flirts. Let me cut and paste a bit: "In ancient Hindu mythology, the Mahabharata, written around 700 B.C. mentions the story of the King Revaita, who travels to a different world to meet the creator Brahma. The King is shocked to learn that many ages have passed when he returns to Earth." Hmmm, kind of sounds like time dilation, as in Einstein's theory regarding approaching the speed of light. If you want to peruse the whole article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_tra...
The point is: lots of people in the past toyed with the idea of alternate methods of time-travel. By 'alternate', I mean different from the way everyone time-travels. What? You don't think you time-travel? Sure you do. Everyone does... but we only go one direction, and it's at the rate of one second per second (or one minute per minute, if you like). That's physically, of course. Our corporal selves move along the time line and observe the future as we go. But what about our non-corporal selves? Don't we, in a sense, time-travel backwards whenever we wish? Remember that embarrassing time at your 8th birthday party when you said something to those two girls that you always regretted? (OK, that may have just been me)... but surely you also have a vivid memory, and when you think about it, it's almost like you can relive the whole thing in your imagination. Ever tell yourself "If I could go back and change just one thing in my life..."? Is that what spurs imaginative speculation in the form of fiction? I don't know.
Something else I don't know: When did I become aware of the concept of Time-Travel? As a kid, I loved the Sci-Fi shows on TV. Irwin Allen is listed as 'creator' for a lot of those shows: Lost in Space, Land of the Giants, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, and The Time Tunnel. I loved The Time Tunnel! IMDB has one FREE episode (not one of their better ones, in my estimation): http://www.imdb.com/video/hulu/vi1254... "Town of Terror".
The Time Tunnel ran 30 episodes from 1966-1967. But there were other shows on at about the same time, such as: It's About Time which was mostly a sit-com that took place when time travelers got stuck in 'caveman days'. This also ran 66/67 for 26 episodes. So that would have been when I was about 12 years old. I think there are earlier influences, like certain episodes of The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits. I'm pretty sure I remember "The Last Flight" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0734651/?... which would have been when I was six in 1960, as well as a year later: "The Odyssey of Flight 33" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0734668/?.... A few years later, there was a very gripping story on The Outer Limits that introduced me to the concept of the actions of a time-traveler changing the future: "The Man Who Was Never Born" (October 1963). http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0667842/?.... I also remember being scared spitless (PG Blog rating) of the Morlocks when I saw The Time Machine on TV. The theater release date was 1960, so I'm not sure when it would have been on TV.
So, somehow, my innate interest in Sci-Fi brought all these concepts into my life at an early age. It seems like I've Always known about Time-Travel. And so, gentle reader, I've finally traveled far enough into my future to start writing my own tales.
I hope you've enjoyed this installment of my ramblings about Time and Time-Travel. But before I go, I'd like to Cher one more thing:
♪♫♪ If I could turn back time ♪♫♪
♫♪♫ If I could find a way.... ♫♪♫
Animals don't wear watches (or carry phones, for those youngsters out there that don't relate to watches), and as far as I can tell, they don't keep appointment books, either. We humans are the keepers and worriers of time. I don't think animals are ever 'late', or wish they had more time in the day, or feel pressures from looming deadlines. So have we humans invented the concept of time? Does our own cognizance (which separates us from the animals?) create time?
With time itself an enigmatic cerebral back-flip, why would anyone want to make up stuff about Time-Travel? Who, you may ask, was first to do so? Yes, you in the back, waving your hand madly and grunting 'ooo, ooo, I know, I know'. H.G. Wells, you say? A reasonable guess, and possibly correct if you want to specifically label Time-Travel as Science Fiction, but other forms of literature have flirted with the concept well before the 1895 publication date of The Time Machine. Wikipedia (yep, I know. Why is a former librarian quoting Wikipedia?), mentions that Hindu writings from 700 BC are primal flirts. Let me cut and paste a bit: "In ancient Hindu mythology, the Mahabharata, written around 700 B.C. mentions the story of the King Revaita, who travels to a different world to meet the creator Brahma. The King is shocked to learn that many ages have passed when he returns to Earth." Hmmm, kind of sounds like time dilation, as in Einstein's theory regarding approaching the speed of light. If you want to peruse the whole article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_tra...
The point is: lots of people in the past toyed with the idea of alternate methods of time-travel. By 'alternate', I mean different from the way everyone time-travels. What? You don't think you time-travel? Sure you do. Everyone does... but we only go one direction, and it's at the rate of one second per second (or one minute per minute, if you like). That's physically, of course. Our corporal selves move along the time line and observe the future as we go. But what about our non-corporal selves? Don't we, in a sense, time-travel backwards whenever we wish? Remember that embarrassing time at your 8th birthday party when you said something to those two girls that you always regretted? (OK, that may have just been me)... but surely you also have a vivid memory, and when you think about it, it's almost like you can relive the whole thing in your imagination. Ever tell yourself "If I could go back and change just one thing in my life..."? Is that what spurs imaginative speculation in the form of fiction? I don't know.
Something else I don't know: When did I become aware of the concept of Time-Travel? As a kid, I loved the Sci-Fi shows on TV. Irwin Allen is listed as 'creator' for a lot of those shows: Lost in Space, Land of the Giants, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, and The Time Tunnel. I loved The Time Tunnel! IMDB has one FREE episode (not one of their better ones, in my estimation): http://www.imdb.com/video/hulu/vi1254... "Town of Terror".
The Time Tunnel ran 30 episodes from 1966-1967. But there were other shows on at about the same time, such as: It's About Time which was mostly a sit-com that took place when time travelers got stuck in 'caveman days'. This also ran 66/67 for 26 episodes. So that would have been when I was about 12 years old. I think there are earlier influences, like certain episodes of The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits. I'm pretty sure I remember "The Last Flight" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0734651/?... which would have been when I was six in 1960, as well as a year later: "The Odyssey of Flight 33" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0734668/?.... A few years later, there was a very gripping story on The Outer Limits that introduced me to the concept of the actions of a time-traveler changing the future: "The Man Who Was Never Born" (October 1963). http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0667842/?.... I also remember being scared spitless (PG Blog rating) of the Morlocks when I saw The Time Machine on TV. The theater release date was 1960, so I'm not sure when it would have been on TV.
So, somehow, my innate interest in Sci-Fi brought all these concepts into my life at an early age. It seems like I've Always known about Time-Travel. And so, gentle reader, I've finally traveled far enough into my future to start writing my own tales.
I hope you've enjoyed this installment of my ramblings about Time and Time-Travel. But before I go, I'd like to Cher one more thing:
♪♫♪ If I could turn back time ♪♫♪
♫♪♫ If I could find a way.... ♫♪♫
March 22, 2015
Genesis of a New Blog
Hi everybody (all 35 of you at the time of this post)!
My name's Les... first time caller, long time listener and I'd like to comment about the war started by those terrorists Leukocytes of Gaea... except it doesn't really happen until 2059, so there is no one to argue the conspiracy theories with in 2015.
So why bring this fictional futuristic group of terrorist up in my first blog post? Well... the Epilogue for ...Saves Nine was originally three times longer than the one you've read (you have read ...Saves Nine haven't you?). And one of the scenes that I cut I really liked... so I'm posting it here:
Jane's face becomes one of quiet contemplation. I remain silent alongside her.
She finally ventures another question. “You said disproved. So what really happened?”
“An elaborate plan laden with highly technical components,” I begin. “Managed by an extremist group whose membership, though international in makeup, embraced non-national allegiances. The name they promoted for propagandist purposes was 'The Leukocytes of Gaea'. One group was deeply ensconced in the Chinese military. They were able to override their own strategic defense computer with a simulation that detected incoming missiles from India. To add credence to the simulated attack, another group smuggled a nuclear bomb into the Zhanjiang harbor disguised as a fishing boat. The city of Zhanjiang was leveled and the mushroom cloud was visible from Hong Kong.”
“So why did these lucca-psychos want India and China to nuke each other?”
She is indeed inquisitive by nature. Were she born in my own era, Jane might have become a Chrono-Historian. “Are either of the words 'leukocytes' or 'Gaea' part of your vocabulary?”
She seems irritated by my question. “No. Should they be?”
“I am not familiar with your education. It is possible that you would have learned of Gaea if you were instructed in Greek mythology. 'Leukocyte' is a biological term that you would have learned if you studied immunology.”
“Wow, Lex,” she says sharply, “I'm sorry my twentieth century high school education is so pitiful.”
She is most definitely angry. Again, I have to draw parallel observances with Sean Kelly. I must placate her. “By no means, Miss Carmichael, did I purposefully disparage your education or intelligence. On the contrary, I did not begin with a definition of the terms for fear of projecting the appearance of condescension, in the event that you were already familiar. But I do apologize, none-the-less.”
Her face belies no particular emotion, and I feel myself growing uncomfortable under her visual scrutiny.
“OK, Lex,” she finally says with what I interpret can be described as a sigh. “I believe that you're sorry, so go ahead and tell me what I should have learned in Greek mythology and immunology.”
My first thought is that Sean Kelly would not have been able to repeat those phrases without somehow mutilating the words. I suspect Jane Carmichael's I.Q. is higher than his.
“Leukocytes defend the human body against infectious disease and foreign invaders, while...”
“I thought that was white blood cells,” Jane interrupts.
“Correct. Leukocyte is simply a more scientific nomenclature,” I explain.
Her cheeks have pushed closer to her brows, narrowing the aperture of her eyes. I have learned this reaction is generated by anger. I must apologize again.
“Never mind,” Jane says before I speak, then expels breath rather explosively. “Go on.”
“In Greek mythology, Gaea was considered a primordial goddess, creator of the Earth, the Universe, great mother of all the primal Greek Mother Goddesses, as well as mother to the Titans, and it seems nearly everything else in the pantheon.”
“So... white cells of the mother goddess? That sounds messed up.”
“That is merely the source of the word. Beyond the name origin, Gaea more recently became a philosophy which expounds that everything in the biosphere of Earth, both organic and inorganic, are all interrelated components of a single entity. As you are composed of components such as skin, heart, lungs, nervous system, circulatory system, et cetera; Gaea is an organism composed of minerals, air, water, animals, vegetation, et cetera.”
Jane transports a small portion of soup to her mouth, then points the withdrawn spoon at me. “So the Loco-Psychos think the Earth is one big living organism and somehow think they're being helpful by creating a nuke-fest?”
She has mispronounced leukocytes, but I believe it was intentional. When I give it some thought, I decide the substitute phrase of 'crazy-crazies' might actually be quite clever. “I will agree that on the surface it appears counter-intuitive, but their published manifesto explained their rational. Their position was that while mankind initially was in harmony with Gaea, it mutated into a cancerous organism that would eventually lead to the death of the entire biosphere. Their suggested solution was to cull the human population to a level that would again be in harmony with the rest of Gaea.”
Jane picks up her fork and pushes rice and lamb korma together. I assume she means to combine them for consumption, but she seems distracted and drags the fork repeated through the mixture.
“Lay it on me straight, future-man,” she says without lifting her eyes from the food she manipulates, “Does it bum you out at all that you guys from the future know all about what's going to happen and just let it go without lifting a finger to stop it?”
So there it is... straight from the cutting room floor. Besides the added length to the Epilogue, the Leukocytes of Gaea have no more mentions until Book 4, so it seemed logical to cut them... for now.
Since I'm a novice blogger, I'm not sure if the Goodreads blog allows for public comment or not, or even how you find out I've written this.
Until next time (whenever that might be), I remain, your humble servant,
Les Lynam
My name's Les... first time caller, long time listener and I'd like to comment about the war started by those terrorists Leukocytes of Gaea... except it doesn't really happen until 2059, so there is no one to argue the conspiracy theories with in 2015.
So why bring this fictional futuristic group of terrorist up in my first blog post? Well... the Epilogue for ...Saves Nine was originally three times longer than the one you've read (you have read ...Saves Nine haven't you?). And one of the scenes that I cut I really liked... so I'm posting it here:
Jane's face becomes one of quiet contemplation. I remain silent alongside her.
She finally ventures another question. “You said disproved. So what really happened?”
“An elaborate plan laden with highly technical components,” I begin. “Managed by an extremist group whose membership, though international in makeup, embraced non-national allegiances. The name they promoted for propagandist purposes was 'The Leukocytes of Gaea'. One group was deeply ensconced in the Chinese military. They were able to override their own strategic defense computer with a simulation that detected incoming missiles from India. To add credence to the simulated attack, another group smuggled a nuclear bomb into the Zhanjiang harbor disguised as a fishing boat. The city of Zhanjiang was leveled and the mushroom cloud was visible from Hong Kong.”
“So why did these lucca-psychos want India and China to nuke each other?”
She is indeed inquisitive by nature. Were she born in my own era, Jane might have become a Chrono-Historian. “Are either of the words 'leukocytes' or 'Gaea' part of your vocabulary?”
She seems irritated by my question. “No. Should they be?”
“I am not familiar with your education. It is possible that you would have learned of Gaea if you were instructed in Greek mythology. 'Leukocyte' is a biological term that you would have learned if you studied immunology.”
“Wow, Lex,” she says sharply, “I'm sorry my twentieth century high school education is so pitiful.”
She is most definitely angry. Again, I have to draw parallel observances with Sean Kelly. I must placate her. “By no means, Miss Carmichael, did I purposefully disparage your education or intelligence. On the contrary, I did not begin with a definition of the terms for fear of projecting the appearance of condescension, in the event that you were already familiar. But I do apologize, none-the-less.”
Her face belies no particular emotion, and I feel myself growing uncomfortable under her visual scrutiny.
“OK, Lex,” she finally says with what I interpret can be described as a sigh. “I believe that you're sorry, so go ahead and tell me what I should have learned in Greek mythology and immunology.”
My first thought is that Sean Kelly would not have been able to repeat those phrases without somehow mutilating the words. I suspect Jane Carmichael's I.Q. is higher than his.
“Leukocytes defend the human body against infectious disease and foreign invaders, while...”
“I thought that was white blood cells,” Jane interrupts.
“Correct. Leukocyte is simply a more scientific nomenclature,” I explain.
Her cheeks have pushed closer to her brows, narrowing the aperture of her eyes. I have learned this reaction is generated by anger. I must apologize again.
“Never mind,” Jane says before I speak, then expels breath rather explosively. “Go on.”
“In Greek mythology, Gaea was considered a primordial goddess, creator of the Earth, the Universe, great mother of all the primal Greek Mother Goddesses, as well as mother to the Titans, and it seems nearly everything else in the pantheon.”
“So... white cells of the mother goddess? That sounds messed up.”
“That is merely the source of the word. Beyond the name origin, Gaea more recently became a philosophy which expounds that everything in the biosphere of Earth, both organic and inorganic, are all interrelated components of a single entity. As you are composed of components such as skin, heart, lungs, nervous system, circulatory system, et cetera; Gaea is an organism composed of minerals, air, water, animals, vegetation, et cetera.”
Jane transports a small portion of soup to her mouth, then points the withdrawn spoon at me. “So the Loco-Psychos think the Earth is one big living organism and somehow think they're being helpful by creating a nuke-fest?”
She has mispronounced leukocytes, but I believe it was intentional. When I give it some thought, I decide the substitute phrase of 'crazy-crazies' might actually be quite clever. “I will agree that on the surface it appears counter-intuitive, but their published manifesto explained their rational. Their position was that while mankind initially was in harmony with Gaea, it mutated into a cancerous organism that would eventually lead to the death of the entire biosphere. Their suggested solution was to cull the human population to a level that would again be in harmony with the rest of Gaea.”
Jane picks up her fork and pushes rice and lamb korma together. I assume she means to combine them for consumption, but she seems distracted and drags the fork repeated through the mixture.
“Lay it on me straight, future-man,” she says without lifting her eyes from the food she manipulates, “Does it bum you out at all that you guys from the future know all about what's going to happen and just let it go without lifting a finger to stop it?”
So there it is... straight from the cutting room floor. Besides the added length to the Epilogue, the Leukocytes of Gaea have no more mentions until Book 4, so it seemed logical to cut them... for now.
Since I'm a novice blogger, I'm not sure if the Goodreads blog allows for public comment or not, or even how you find out I've written this.
Until next time (whenever that might be), I remain, your humble servant,
Les Lynam
Time Will Tell
Author Les Lynam randomly writes bits of info that may or may not relate to the Time Will Tell series.
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