(sorry for this one posting out of sequence, but been finding it scattered in the wrong folders as I clean up the mess my computer is these days. Too many cold, coffee deficient days the last few years, clouded my organizing skills.)
Thatch's Log/23496-2301TCT
I hated taking this freight, especially to Mizar Aleph Prime. Of late too much of old Terra's bad ways had been showing up there. Almost as if the place was being invaded silently by agents of the Arcturian Empire, to take over the Association as they had man's old home. I had noted over the years the trend of males and females both to shave their heads there, and the proliferation of the genetic engineering shops, just like the tales of Terra had been in the last days.
But the cargo was the only one out of Castor Prime Aye-Hammer. So I took it to get us back into the trade loops. And regretted it once I saw the manifest. The Frankenstiens out on the edge of the Association were making a mistake, they were supplying their FGR, the Forced Genetic Reformation, tech to those walking the edge of the uniformity culture. I have seen tanks like these before. Just before the Fallback War. From the same source. All sent to Terra for the take over there, when every man, woman and child on Earth stil was forced into the tanks, to be remade into perfect, docile slaves for the Arcturian takeover.
I had fought that war. I still fight it, in my dreams. I remember delivering that cargo, then tossing the captain who ordered us to surrender to the Frankenstiens who went over to the ememy for that change, into the lock and cycling him out. It was the day we raised my own flag, chosen by the crew to lead them free of the terror we saw on earth, of perfect conformity. Every person looking alike, every person genetically programmed for their jobs. Everyone like robots.
I have done my best to keep the crew from knowing what we carry, but as Supercargo and Load Mistress, Jack and Annie had to know. No choice there, they had to balance us out for mass thrusting and transition shifts. And to do that, they had to inspect the holds, pods and goods. I had to tie the boy down when he realized the cargo, and tell him we would do the job as we needed the money. The girl was different, she had looked intrigued, and in my own rounds I had caught her opening some of the tanks, and inspecting them. Once I had even caught her lying in one, seeing the way it fit her form, looking at what it would do to her, how the hoses connected up for the life support.
It disturbed me. Annie was the one who had taken the best to the ways of space, other than Jack. She had more painful memories than the others, having lost all her family. Perhaps it is just the thought of forgetting the losses she had suffered, when a rogue band of Arcies crossed the borders and raided deep into the Association, hitting Dubhe Delta. Jack had saved her, and the others, but her mind was damaged.
The boy would go ape if he knew. He loved that girl, and until this run, I thought she had loved him. So I tried to let her know she could talk to me, but she just shrugged, donned her clothes again, and went about her business since. But the auto log told me she was still visiting the tanks and twice had found her searching the data cubes for the Conformists and Frankenstien's ways.
Entry to Mizar will be soon, but perhaps not soon enough. I am leery to ask it, but I think Jack will need to be disarmed, for everyone's safety. If Mizar is going to Conformity, and Annie goes over to them, things will get ugly.
/end log entry/
The black bearded captain leaned back in the acceleration chair, and sighed as the familiar rocks of the Kuiper belt of the Mizar system appeared around them. A perfect drop into the Gap, that area between the orbit belts, kept clear by automated ships and miners to allow ships to enter the system closer from transition field space. He had gotten his cargo this far. Now he just had to keep the crew of the Slick Willy together.
This trip would be the end of some things though. He was sure the girl, as good as she had been until now, would leave them at Mizar. He would miss Annie, but not as much as her beau would. He decided to make some changes in his crew, he would need a new cargo crew, and Stede would be a good choice there, no need to worry about more stowaways with him in charge. Gow could take over environmental, and then he could bring young Rackham up to the helm to keep him busy learning a new skill, and under the eye and hand of himself.
The large Aye-See first mate came into the bridge. His bulk was impressive in large rooms, in the confines of the helm area, he induced claustrophobia in most folks. They called him Gow as that was the closest they could get to his true name. And he was angry, which made him more dangerous "Saw cargo. Explain."
Thatch sighed. "We were broke, and there was no place to to ditch the stuff at. if you want to get away from Castor, you ship the Franky's goods." The captain ran his hand across his face in exhaustion. "Tell jack I need to talk to him. Keep your mouth shut about what we transported. I don't like it more than you do." Eduard Thatch lay his hand beside the display that showed another vessel close in to them. A Frankenstien hunter-killer frigate.
Gow's eyes noted the readouts, and nodded his alligator head. He understood what had happened now. Gunpoint cargoes had been on the increase of late, as more of his folk, the cannon-fodder of the Acturian Empire, spread into Association space in small ships for piracy. Just as they had into Terran space thirty years before. "Aye."
The captain took several deep breaths. and let them out slowly. He needed a few hours in the old exercise room to clear his head in the movement sof Tai Chi, but would not get them this trip. After that he set up the second station for Jack to run the cargo reports and look for bids, his last time at that for a while he was sure. He also brought out the pilot's manuals, to give the boy a distraction for the next few days.
It was nearly an hour before young Rackham arrived. He was cleaned up for a change, wearing a clean jumper, and regulation boots. Something the commander normally had to demand of him in writing. He even knocked first, which was rarer yet.
"Oy, Cap'ns. Youse wants me'z." Jack still spoke mostly in the Dubhe cant he had been raised in. It was a habit he would have to break now, with the new job.
"Take a seat Jack, we need to talk."
The boy, no, over the years he had become a young man, one with long blond hair, the start of a scruffy beard, and deep blue-grey eyes. Eyes that showed he knew of what would happen at the Prime Station. "Aye aye," was all he said as he took the indicated co-pilots chair. Eyes that noted the training gear and books,but gave none of the normal joy they should have held.
Ed sighed. "Caught her at the tanks, i take it."
The silence said more than words could. There was the marks of anger still being suppressed in Rackham's face. He merely nodded, not trusting his voice to this, even if it was contrary to regs. Thatch knew the pain, several of his had chosen the Conformity during the Fallback. Including his wife of ten years at the time.
"She has a hard choice, Jack. And so do you. You know the Conformists kill all past relationships out by their change. She won't be your girl no more." The captain wanted to break it easy, but Jack was not the easy type.
"Oy, she'z losts as we'z, got's it'z Cap'ns. Won'ts makes fussy. She bigs nows, nots me'z fems, 'eard's she's louds an'z clairifieds." Captain Thatch winced at the dialect, he had been raised in it himself and somehow left it behind in his rise to command. It smacked of the things he hated about Dubhe, mostly the lack of formal education.
"It will be a rough spell for you, boy. I have done this myself, my wife went over during the war." He had never told the younger members of the crew of those days. Jack knew because his own parents had crewed on Willy back then. "You will not carry that heirloom cannon of yours though, crew safety requirements boy. Not that I don't trust you, but when the port officials come aboard, I want that damned thing in the locker. Or your hiding spot."
Jack acknowledged the command, softly, with chagrin. Since they had been hit by pirates out by Pollux, he had taken to keeping the ancient Colt on his person, and loaded, contrary to regulations of the Association Space Guild, but those desk pilots, in both the captain and spacer's opinion, had never tasted real action in their life.
They started their work on the next cargo and offload arrangements, chaffing at the hours delays in communications at this range, but knowing it was required. They used the lag time to start the boy on his new career. But the joy at his first time on stick was dampened by things he knew were to come.
To be continued....
Showing posts with label Science Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Science Fiction. Show all posts
Monday, September 22, 2014
Black Banner, Red Banner (the true opening)
(sorry for this one posting out of sequence, but been finding it scattered in the wrong folders as I clean up the mess my computer is these days. Too many cold, coffee deficient days the last few years, clouded my organizing skills.)
Thatch's Log/23496-2301TCT
I hated taking this freight, especially to Mizar Aleph Prime. Of late too much of old Terra's bad ways had been showing up there. Almost as if the place was being invaded silently by agents of the Arcturian Empire, to take over the Association as they had man's old home. I had noted over the years the trend of males and females both to shave their heads there, and the proliferation of the genetic engineering shops, just like the tales of Terra had been in the last days.
But the cargo was the only one out of Castor Prime Aye-Hammer. So I took it to get us back into the trade loops. And regretted it once I saw the manifest. The Frankenstiens out on the edge of the Association were making a mistake, they were supplying their FGR, the Forced Genetic Reformation, tech to those walking the edge of the uniformity culture. I have seen tanks like these before. Just before the Fallback War. From the same source. All sent to Terra for the take over there, when every man, woman and child on Earth stil was forced into the tanks, to be remade into perfect, docile slaves for the Arcturian takeover.
I had fought that war. I still fight it, in my dreams. I remember delivering that cargo, then tossing the captain who ordered us to surrender to the Frankenstiens who went over to the ememy for that change, into the lock and cycling him out. It was the day we raised my own flag, chosen by the crew to lead them free of the terror we saw on earth, of perfect conformity. Every person looking alike, every person genetically programmed for their jobs. Everyone like robots.
I have done my best to keep the crew from knowing what we carry, but as Supercargo and Load Mistress, Jack and Annie had to know. No choice there, they had to balance us out for mass thrusting and transition shifts. And to do that, they had to inspect the holds, pods and goods. I had to tie the boy down when he realized the cargo, and tell him we would do the job as we needed the money. The girl was different, she had looked intrigued, and in my own rounds I had caught her opening some of the tanks, and inspecting them. Once I had even caught her lying in one, seeing the way it fit her form, looking at what it would do to her, how the hoses connected up for the life support.
It disturbed me. Annie was the one who had taken the best to the ways of space, other than Jack. She had more painful memories than the others, having lost all her family. Perhaps it is just the thought of forgetting the losses she had suffered, when a rogue band of Arcies crossed the borders and raided deep into the Association, hitting Dubhe Delta. Jack had saved her, and the others, but her mind was damaged.
The boy would go ape if he knew. He loved that girl, and until this run, I thought she had loved him. So I tried to let her know she could talk to me, but she just shrugged, donned her clothes again, and went about her business since. But the auto log told me she was still visiting the tanks and twice had found her searching the data cubes for the Conformists and Frankenstien's ways.
Entry to Mizar will be soon, but perhaps not soon enough. I am leery to ask it, but I think Jack will need to be disarmed, for everyone's safety. If Mizar is going to Conformity, and Annie goes over to them, things will get ugly.
/end log entry/
The black bearded captain leaned back in the acceleration chair, and sighed as the familiar rocks of the Kuiper belt of the Mizar system appeared around them. A perfect drop into the Gap, that area between the orbit belts, kept clear by automated ships and miners to allow ships to enter the system closer from transition field space. He had gotten his cargo this far. Now he just had to keep the crew of the Slick Willy together.
This trip would be the end of some things though. He was sure the girl, as good as she had been until now, would leave them at Mizar. He would miss Annie, but not as much as her beau would. He decided to make some changes in his crew, he would need a new cargo crew, and Stede would be a good choice there, no need to worry about more stowaways with him in charge. Gow could take over environmental, and then he could bring young Rackham up to the helm to keep him busy learning a new skill, and under the eye and hand of himself.
The large Aye-See first mate came into the bridge. His bulk was impressive in large rooms, in the confines of the helm area, he induced claustrophobia in most folks. They called him Gow as that was the closest they could get to his true name. And he was angry, which made him more dangerous "Saw cargo. Explain."
Thatch sighed. "We were broke, and there was no place to to ditch the stuff at. if you want to get away from Castor, you ship the Franky's goods." The captain ran his hand across his face in exhaustion. "Tell jack I need to talk to him. Keep your mouth shut about what we transported. I don't like it more than you do." Eduard Thatch lay his hand beside the display that showed another vessel close in to them. A Frankenstien hunter-killer frigate.
Gow's eyes noted the readouts, and nodded his alligator head. He understood what had happened now. Gunpoint cargoes had been on the increase of late, as more of his folk, the cannon-fodder of the Acturian Empire, spread into Association space in small ships for piracy. Just as they had into Terran space thirty years before. "Aye."
The captain took several deep breaths. and let them out slowly. He needed a few hours in the old exercise room to clear his head in the movement sof Tai Chi, but would not get them this trip. After that he set up the second station for Jack to run the cargo reports and look for bids, his last time at that for a while he was sure. He also brought out the pilot's manuals, to give the boy a distraction for the next few days.
It was nearly an hour before young Rackham arrived. He was cleaned up for a change, wearing a clean jumper, and regulation boots. Something the commander normally had to demand of him in writing. He even knocked first, which was rarer yet.
"Oy, Cap'ns. Youse wants me'z." Jack still spoke mostly in the Dubhe cant he had been raised in. It was a habit he would have to break now, with the new job.
"Take a seat Jack, we need to talk."
The boy, no, over the years he had become a young man, one with long blond hair, the start of a scruffy beard, and deep blue-grey eyes. Eyes that showed he knew of what would happen at the Prime Station. "Aye aye," was all he said as he took the indicated co-pilots chair. Eyes that noted the training gear and books,but gave none of the normal joy they should have held.
Ed sighed. "Caught her at the tanks, i take it."
The silence said more than words could. There was the marks of anger still being suppressed in Rackham's face. He merely nodded, not trusting his voice to this, even if it was contrary to regs. Thatch knew the pain, several of his had chosen the Conformity during the Fallback. Including his wife of ten years at the time.
"She has a hard choice, Jack. And so do you. You know the Conformists kill all past relationships out by their change. She won't be your girl no more." The captain wanted to break it easy, but Jack was not the easy type.
"Oy, she'z losts as we'z, got's it'z Cap'ns. Won'ts makes fussy. She bigs nows, nots me'z fems, 'eard's she's louds an'z clairifieds." Captain Thatch winced at the dialect, he had been raised in it himself and somehow left it behind in his rise to command. It smacked of the things he hated about Dubhe, mostly the lack of formal education.
"It will be a rough spell for you, boy. I have done this myself, my wife went over during the war." He had never told the younger members of the crew of those days. Jack knew because his own parents had crewed on Willy back then. "You will not carry that heirloom cannon of yours though, crew safety requirements boy. Not that I don't trust you, but when the port officials come aboard, I want that damned thing in the locker. Or your hiding spot."
Jack acknowledged the command, softly, with chagrin. Since they had been hit by pirates out by Pollux, he had taken to keeping the ancient Colt on his person, and loaded, contrary to regulations of the Association Space Guild, but those desk pilots, in both the captain and spacer's opinion, had never tasted real action in their life.
They started their work on the next cargo and offload arrangements, chaffing at the hours delays in communications at this range, but knowing it was required. They used the lag time to start the boy on his new career. But the joy at his first time on stick was dampened by things he knew were to come.
To be continued....
Thatch's Log/23496-2301TCT
I hated taking this freight, especially to Mizar Aleph Prime. Of late too much of old Terra's bad ways had been showing up there. Almost as if the place was being invaded silently by agents of the Arcturian Empire, to take over the Association as they had man's old home. I had noted over the years the trend of males and females both to shave their heads there, and the proliferation of the genetic engineering shops, just like the tales of Terra had been in the last days.
But the cargo was the only one out of Castor Prime Aye-Hammer. So I took it to get us back into the trade loops. And regretted it once I saw the manifest. The Frankenstiens out on the edge of the Association were making a mistake, they were supplying their FGR, the Forced Genetic Reformation, tech to those walking the edge of the uniformity culture. I have seen tanks like these before. Just before the Fallback War. From the same source. All sent to Terra for the take over there, when every man, woman and child on Earth stil was forced into the tanks, to be remade into perfect, docile slaves for the Arcturian takeover.
I had fought that war. I still fight it, in my dreams. I remember delivering that cargo, then tossing the captain who ordered us to surrender to the Frankenstiens who went over to the ememy for that change, into the lock and cycling him out. It was the day we raised my own flag, chosen by the crew to lead them free of the terror we saw on earth, of perfect conformity. Every person looking alike, every person genetically programmed for their jobs. Everyone like robots.
I have done my best to keep the crew from knowing what we carry, but as Supercargo and Load Mistress, Jack and Annie had to know. No choice there, they had to balance us out for mass thrusting and transition shifts. And to do that, they had to inspect the holds, pods and goods. I had to tie the boy down when he realized the cargo, and tell him we would do the job as we needed the money. The girl was different, she had looked intrigued, and in my own rounds I had caught her opening some of the tanks, and inspecting them. Once I had even caught her lying in one, seeing the way it fit her form, looking at what it would do to her, how the hoses connected up for the life support.
It disturbed me. Annie was the one who had taken the best to the ways of space, other than Jack. She had more painful memories than the others, having lost all her family. Perhaps it is just the thought of forgetting the losses she had suffered, when a rogue band of Arcies crossed the borders and raided deep into the Association, hitting Dubhe Delta. Jack had saved her, and the others, but her mind was damaged.
The boy would go ape if he knew. He loved that girl, and until this run, I thought she had loved him. So I tried to let her know she could talk to me, but she just shrugged, donned her clothes again, and went about her business since. But the auto log told me she was still visiting the tanks and twice had found her searching the data cubes for the Conformists and Frankenstien's ways.
Entry to Mizar will be soon, but perhaps not soon enough. I am leery to ask it, but I think Jack will need to be disarmed, for everyone's safety. If Mizar is going to Conformity, and Annie goes over to them, things will get ugly.
/end log entry/
The black bearded captain leaned back in the acceleration chair, and sighed as the familiar rocks of the Kuiper belt of the Mizar system appeared around them. A perfect drop into the Gap, that area between the orbit belts, kept clear by automated ships and miners to allow ships to enter the system closer from transition field space. He had gotten his cargo this far. Now he just had to keep the crew of the Slick Willy together.
This trip would be the end of some things though. He was sure the girl, as good as she had been until now, would leave them at Mizar. He would miss Annie, but not as much as her beau would. He decided to make some changes in his crew, he would need a new cargo crew, and Stede would be a good choice there, no need to worry about more stowaways with him in charge. Gow could take over environmental, and then he could bring young Rackham up to the helm to keep him busy learning a new skill, and under the eye and hand of himself.
The large Aye-See first mate came into the bridge. His bulk was impressive in large rooms, in the confines of the helm area, he induced claustrophobia in most folks. They called him Gow as that was the closest they could get to his true name. And he was angry, which made him more dangerous "Saw cargo. Explain."
Thatch sighed. "We were broke, and there was no place to to ditch the stuff at. if you want to get away from Castor, you ship the Franky's goods." The captain ran his hand across his face in exhaustion. "Tell jack I need to talk to him. Keep your mouth shut about what we transported. I don't like it more than you do." Eduard Thatch lay his hand beside the display that showed another vessel close in to them. A Frankenstien hunter-killer frigate.
Gow's eyes noted the readouts, and nodded his alligator head. He understood what had happened now. Gunpoint cargoes had been on the increase of late, as more of his folk, the cannon-fodder of the Acturian Empire, spread into Association space in small ships for piracy. Just as they had into Terran space thirty years before. "Aye."
The captain took several deep breaths. and let them out slowly. He needed a few hours in the old exercise room to clear his head in the movement sof Tai Chi, but would not get them this trip. After that he set up the second station for Jack to run the cargo reports and look for bids, his last time at that for a while he was sure. He also brought out the pilot's manuals, to give the boy a distraction for the next few days.
It was nearly an hour before young Rackham arrived. He was cleaned up for a change, wearing a clean jumper, and regulation boots. Something the commander normally had to demand of him in writing. He even knocked first, which was rarer yet.
"Oy, Cap'ns. Youse wants me'z." Jack still spoke mostly in the Dubhe cant he had been raised in. It was a habit he would have to break now, with the new job.
"Take a seat Jack, we need to talk."
The boy, no, over the years he had become a young man, one with long blond hair, the start of a scruffy beard, and deep blue-grey eyes. Eyes that showed he knew of what would happen at the Prime Station. "Aye aye," was all he said as he took the indicated co-pilots chair. Eyes that noted the training gear and books,but gave none of the normal joy they should have held.
Ed sighed. "Caught her at the tanks, i take it."
The silence said more than words could. There was the marks of anger still being suppressed in Rackham's face. He merely nodded, not trusting his voice to this, even if it was contrary to regs. Thatch knew the pain, several of his had chosen the Conformity during the Fallback. Including his wife of ten years at the time.
"She has a hard choice, Jack. And so do you. You know the Conformists kill all past relationships out by their change. She won't be your girl no more." The captain wanted to break it easy, but Jack was not the easy type.
"Oy, she'z losts as we'z, got's it'z Cap'ns. Won'ts makes fussy. She bigs nows, nots me'z fems, 'eard's she's louds an'z clairifieds." Captain Thatch winced at the dialect, he had been raised in it himself and somehow left it behind in his rise to command. It smacked of the things he hated about Dubhe, mostly the lack of formal education.
"It will be a rough spell for you, boy. I have done this myself, my wife went over during the war." He had never told the younger members of the crew of those days. Jack knew because his own parents had crewed on Willy back then. "You will not carry that heirloom cannon of yours though, crew safety requirements boy. Not that I don't trust you, but when the port officials come aboard, I want that damned thing in the locker. Or your hiding spot."
Jack acknowledged the command, softly, with chagrin. Since they had been hit by pirates out by Pollux, he had taken to keeping the ancient Colt on his person, and loaded, contrary to regulations of the Association Space Guild, but those desk pilots, in both the captain and spacer's opinion, had never tasted real action in their life.
They started their work on the next cargo and offload arrangements, chaffing at the hours delays in communications at this range, but knowing it was required. They used the lag time to start the boy on his new career. But the joy at his first time on stick was dampened by things he knew were to come.
To be continued....
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Long after that Giant Leap, we still are "Groundhogs". - A poem of Sci-Fi and Space
Being a science fiction fan,
back in my formative days,
I have some pressing questions
to ask of all around.
And top of that list,
the one showing my gender.
Where the hell are the skin-tight space-suits?
Now, stop shaking your heads,
all you ladies out there,
as I know you wonder too,
where the heroic guys are,
having seen romance novel covers.
And that don't end it.
Where the hell is my flying car now?
As we celebrate this day
something I actually remember, vaguely,
that man walked off Earth,
our first pioneers leaving footprints boldly
in the grey lunar dust,
I just have to ask things,
Like when do we get space vacations?
Look, I'm just pointing out
that we have some things
so many laughed at then,
when in books or comics.
Dick Tracy's TV watch thing,
and flip-phones from Star Trek,
So, when will we colonize other star-systems?
Wait, they did that already,
over in Japan just recently,
though it still costs tons.
But still, of the dreams
Science Fiction offered us all,
What others still languish sadly,
Like when can we travel the stars?
Still no moon-bases to visit,
no zero-G sports channels,
we lack the vision now
to press on beyond low-orbit,
but I hope someday soon,
we each live those tales,
but I still want my own planet.
Buzz, You asked a question
Where was I at when
you walked on the moon?
Mister Aldrin, glued to TV,
Dreaming of being an astronaut
when the four-year-old body dozed.
Now, Can you get NASCAR to hold....
Lunar Buggy races on Fiftieth Anniversary?
Just joking (okay, I'd go),
But, folks, these are only
the first steps to take,
on our long journey ahead,
to spread out across space,
realizing that writers went first,
If only in tales mom's screamed over,
when they saw the racy covers bearing
gals in skin tight suits moon walking.
So, press on, you dreamers,
aim high, comic book readers,
we might not get super-heroes,
but we hold the potential
for most science fiction stories
to appear at last factual,
save that one bit about us nerds
always getting the girl in the end.
She'll always follow the money, fellas.
Unless we show them our brains.
20July2014- Dyfedd Rex, still wanting to have a batting cage on the Dark Side of the Moon, where can I buy that franchise at?
Okay, seriously, yes, a lot of the sci-fi tales are proving out slowly, and I know, the fiction was getting budgets to balance and pass quickly and consistently, that would let us live on the moon someday, sooner in tales than reality. But still, we got the guts, the tech, the brains, the desires, and most of all, the dreams.
And, thanks to the last few decades, we have the sparks lit in our youth, even if dimmed a few times by the reality that space is a dangerous place, and getting up there, and back down more so. But we should press on, and soon. I'd like to try space travel myself, before the ol' body gives up the ghost.
So, Besides the batting cage, where can I get the moon's first liquor license at, so I can open the first, true bar in space?
And, Buzz, if you see this, I tip the battered brown hat to you and the others who have been in the Black (in terms of my favorite sci-fi show. One of my first memories is of the landing at Tranquility. I wish things had gone different enough that I'd be on the moon right now, serving you a beer for the celebration, but I'd take the keys from your Lunar Rover, if I did, leaving them in that jar on the back-bar. Gotta have some responsibility. I can see you sitting down with Han Solo, James T. Kirk, Jean-Luc Picard, Malcolm Reynolds, Mister Garibaldi, and some others, tossing one back, as we celebrate making the first steps to their worlds, or our versions of the dreams those characters inspired in us, as did you, Neal, and the rest of the NASA astronaut corps and those other space pioneers out there. And I promise to make Han and Mal check their blasters/guns at the door.
And, thank god we have yet to see....
Asimov's robotic detective (other than on the silver screen)
Heinlein's practical joker computer (then again, seen a lot of checks with extra zero's issued by number crunching boxes).
Clarke's big monolith (but I really hope I live long enough to see a Beanstalk that works!).
Herbert's Butlerian Jihad and the mess it would create.
Whedon's Alliance and the Reaves they made.
and all the other bad things that we'll probably screw up and do anyway.
Oh, and everyone else. Keep the dream alive. Show your kids those stars, and dare them to get there.
And maybe, just maybe, we will come again in peace, to the moon, and many, many other places.
Except the bars. We know we'll have fights between the Trekkies, Browncoats, and Lucasites over which ships are faster. Guess I'll need Doc Savage as a bouncer.
-D.R.
back in my formative days,
I have some pressing questions
to ask of all around.
And top of that list,
the one showing my gender.
Where the hell are the skin-tight space-suits?
Now, stop shaking your heads,
all you ladies out there,
as I know you wonder too,
where the heroic guys are,
having seen romance novel covers.
And that don't end it.
Where the hell is my flying car now?
As we celebrate this day
something I actually remember, vaguely,
that man walked off Earth,
our first pioneers leaving footprints boldly
in the grey lunar dust,
I just have to ask things,
Like when do we get space vacations?
Look, I'm just pointing out
that we have some things
so many laughed at then,
when in books or comics.
Dick Tracy's TV watch thing,
and flip-phones from Star Trek,
So, when will we colonize other star-systems?
Wait, they did that already,
over in Japan just recently,
though it still costs tons.
But still, of the dreams
Science Fiction offered us all,
What others still languish sadly,
Like when can we travel the stars?
Still no moon-bases to visit,
no zero-G sports channels,
we lack the vision now
to press on beyond low-orbit,
but I hope someday soon,
we each live those tales,
but I still want my own planet.
Buzz, You asked a question
Where was I at when
you walked on the moon?
Mister Aldrin, glued to TV,
Dreaming of being an astronaut
when the four-year-old body dozed.
Now, Can you get NASCAR to hold....
Lunar Buggy races on Fiftieth Anniversary?
Just joking (okay, I'd go),
But, folks, these are only
the first steps to take,
on our long journey ahead,
to spread out across space,
realizing that writers went first,
If only in tales mom's screamed over,
when they saw the racy covers bearing
gals in skin tight suits moon walking.
So, press on, you dreamers,
aim high, comic book readers,
we might not get super-heroes,
but we hold the potential
for most science fiction stories
to appear at last factual,
save that one bit about us nerds
always getting the girl in the end.
She'll always follow the money, fellas.
Unless we show them our brains.
20July2014- Dyfedd Rex, still wanting to have a batting cage on the Dark Side of the Moon, where can I buy that franchise at?
Okay, seriously, yes, a lot of the sci-fi tales are proving out slowly, and I know, the fiction was getting budgets to balance and pass quickly and consistently, that would let us live on the moon someday, sooner in tales than reality. But still, we got the guts, the tech, the brains, the desires, and most of all, the dreams.
And, thanks to the last few decades, we have the sparks lit in our youth, even if dimmed a few times by the reality that space is a dangerous place, and getting up there, and back down more so. But we should press on, and soon. I'd like to try space travel myself, before the ol' body gives up the ghost.
So, Besides the batting cage, where can I get the moon's first liquor license at, so I can open the first, true bar in space?
And, Buzz, if you see this, I tip the battered brown hat to you and the others who have been in the Black (in terms of my favorite sci-fi show. One of my first memories is of the landing at Tranquility. I wish things had gone different enough that I'd be on the moon right now, serving you a beer for the celebration, but I'd take the keys from your Lunar Rover, if I did, leaving them in that jar on the back-bar. Gotta have some responsibility. I can see you sitting down with Han Solo, James T. Kirk, Jean-Luc Picard, Malcolm Reynolds, Mister Garibaldi, and some others, tossing one back, as we celebrate making the first steps to their worlds, or our versions of the dreams those characters inspired in us, as did you, Neal, and the rest of the NASA astronaut corps and those other space pioneers out there. And I promise to make Han and Mal check their blasters/guns at the door.
And, thank god we have yet to see....
Asimov's robotic detective (other than on the silver screen)
Heinlein's practical joker computer (then again, seen a lot of checks with extra zero's issued by number crunching boxes).
Clarke's big monolith (but I really hope I live long enough to see a Beanstalk that works!).
Herbert's Butlerian Jihad and the mess it would create.
Whedon's Alliance and the Reaves they made.
and all the other bad things that we'll probably screw up and do anyway.
Oh, and everyone else. Keep the dream alive. Show your kids those stars, and dare them to get there.
And maybe, just maybe, we will come again in peace, to the moon, and many, many other places.
Except the bars. We know we'll have fights between the Trekkies, Browncoats, and Lucasites over which ships are faster. Guess I'll need Doc Savage as a bouncer.
-D.R.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Anime School Girl Cyborg - a strange poem in progress
They pranced across the plaza
in bright and shiny costumes
celebrating their many sexy heroines
each similar yet so different
in ways most cannot fathom.
Then came the fanciest one
the girl all of silver
with joints like old gearboxes
and wind up keys attached
to various strategic body parts
Younger than most the others
wearing ski goggles with LED's
and other little aesthetic touches
the other girls just missed
while creating their cosplay outfits.
Her walk was so robotic
random hesitations and jerky motions
almost like her svelte body
really was a mechanical wonder
created from some steampunk vision.
She took away the prize
impressing the judges quite well
as she left the convention
a tear in her eye
for she was as appears.
An anime school girl cyborg
thanks to some drunken fool
who got behind the wheel
weight a drink too many
leaving her broken beyond healing
Until the lords of technology
offered her parents a hope
to keep their baby alive
but not able to feel
their touches or gentle hugs
Joints bones and muscles replaced
by pieces of hard metal
and powered by electric motors
that whine and chatter loud
as she moves them about.
Despite all her metal parts
her heart is still flesh
and breaks when others tease
not seeing her bleeding inside
from their cruel insulting words
Once I saw that tear
falling from her good eye
I had to walk over
and speak for a while
trying to cheer her up.
She never smiled a bit
fear made her cower down
scared that I was joking
setting her up once more
to have her feelings hurt.
Steel skin does not deflect
the deadliest barbs there are
those made of mean words
tossed with such negligent aim
hitting the weakest ones most.
So she suffers in silence
iron face hiding her pain
praying none can ever see
the trails of old rust
marring her eternally young beauty
Despite my offering of friendship
she slid behind her disability
fearing even after she knew
it was an honest attempt
so afraid of taking chances.
So she walks alone still
her path filled with pain
yet her shiny steel body
will never fail or age
giving her some bittersweet revenge.
(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
Never look at your infometrics on a blog. You might cringe at what brought folks in, if not the search keywords, then the source url's will mess with your head. This poem came from a keyword search reported one week that set me to thinking, could I do an Anime poem? So this is the effort... hope you all enjoy it.
in bright and shiny costumes
celebrating their many sexy heroines
each similar yet so different
in ways most cannot fathom.
Then came the fanciest one
the girl all of silver
with joints like old gearboxes
and wind up keys attached
to various strategic body parts
Younger than most the others
wearing ski goggles with LED's
and other little aesthetic touches
the other girls just missed
while creating their cosplay outfits.
Her walk was so robotic
random hesitations and jerky motions
almost like her svelte body
really was a mechanical wonder
created from some steampunk vision.
She took away the prize
impressing the judges quite well
as she left the convention
a tear in her eye
for she was as appears.
An anime school girl cyborg
thanks to some drunken fool
who got behind the wheel
weight a drink too many
leaving her broken beyond healing
Until the lords of technology
offered her parents a hope
to keep their baby alive
but not able to feel
their touches or gentle hugs
Joints bones and muscles replaced
by pieces of hard metal
and powered by electric motors
that whine and chatter loud
as she moves them about.
Despite all her metal parts
her heart is still flesh
and breaks when others tease
not seeing her bleeding inside
from their cruel insulting words
Once I saw that tear
falling from her good eye
I had to walk over
and speak for a while
trying to cheer her up.
She never smiled a bit
fear made her cower down
scared that I was joking
setting her up once more
to have her feelings hurt.
Steel skin does not deflect
the deadliest barbs there are
those made of mean words
tossed with such negligent aim
hitting the weakest ones most.
So she suffers in silence
iron face hiding her pain
praying none can ever see
the trails of old rust
marring her eternally young beauty
Despite my offering of friendship
she slid behind her disability
fearing even after she knew
it was an honest attempt
so afraid of taking chances.
So she walks alone still
her path filled with pain
yet her shiny steel body
will never fail or age
giving her some bittersweet revenge.
(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
Never look at your infometrics on a blog. You might cringe at what brought folks in, if not the search keywords, then the source url's will mess with your head. This poem came from a keyword search reported one week that set me to thinking, could I do an Anime poem? So this is the effort... hope you all enjoy it.
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