FTL Stories - Rask the Mantis

     More FTL story time, peeps!  I'm still loving it, and I'm still playing the heck out of it, so I'm gonna keep writing about it!  Enjoy!

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     The tingle of the teleportation field faded and suddenly Chhk'Raskthon'ldl (or, as her crewmates called her, 'Rask') could taste the acrid stench of ozone on her mandibles.  Something important was burning on this ship.  She took in her surroundings at a glance, noticing that she appeared to be in a sensor room that had suffered at least one hit from the ion cannon, because all the screens were dark.  The ozone tang was really very strong.

     She didn't have time to think about it, though, as two fleshy humans in singed uniforms burst through the door to her right with weapons drawn.  They immediately dove for cover behind a dark console and took aim at her much larger companion, Trinson Proudshale, his massive stony bulk slowly lumbering around to face the threat.

     She skittered to the opposite corner of the room, went prone up against the wall, and scrambled to the ceiling with all six of her legs.  She was fast.  Fast enough that by the time her friend had begun his charge at the two meatbags (shrugging off several laser blasts as he did, it took more than hand weapons to seriously inconvenience a Rockman) she was already crawling towards the door.

     She triggered the doors motion sensor with her mandible, shooting through the portal as it scythed open, and skittered up onto the slightly higher ceiling of what had to be the main weapons room.  This was where the fire was, she could see the smoke and even hear the telltale hiss of a poorly sealed hull breach somewhere nearby.  The main weapons console had four stations.  Three of them were dark, two of the dark ones were actively on fire, and the only console still functioning was flickering with the blue sparks of ion damage.

     The smoke was thick at floor level, but she could smell the oil and lubricant from what could only be an Engi down below, probably frantically trying to make repairs.  She considered her options for a second.  Trinson could handle the two meatbags in the sensor room, she had no doubt about that, she had seen him tear through six armed humans in his battle rage.  If there was an Engi here, and two crewmen currently having the majority of their crunchy bones broken in the sensor room, there should be two more crewmen somewhere aboard.

     She licked her mandibles and tasted the unmistakable scent of charred flesh for the first time.  That meant there was a fresh corpse under the smoke as well.  Probably the gunner who caught the blast when his console exploded.  So that left one human unaccounted for.

     She reoriented herself towards the bow of the ship and skittered across the ceiling towards another door.  She paused at the door and laid her sensitive forelegs against the smooth metal.  She could sense the vibrations of the ships engines, caughing and sputtering under the strain of battle damage.  She could feel the strange null-vibration of an ion blast connecting with another part of the ship.  But what excited her the most was the subtle speech vibrations coming through the metal of the door...

     There was someone shouting.  Not three meters from her.

     She licked her mandibles in anticipation as she reared up (actually down, as she was still on the ceiling) and depressed the manual door control with a foreclaw.  The door swooshed open and she dove through, opening her mandibles and claws wide in an attempt to tackle the human beyond.

     The human glanced at the door, no doubt having heard it open, and Rask was gratified to hear a choked cry of surprise escape his throat before she was on him, tackling him to the floor and rolling him under her.  She clamped down on his midsection with her footclaws, slashing her scythelike foreclaws in a frenzy, trying to cut through his fleshy hide and spill the precious fluid beneath.  Her mandibles clacked with glee as an arm came off at he shoulder, spraying a fountain of delicious blood in her face.  The humans' agonized scream was short lived as she ripped open his soft throat.

     She watched the humans' life draining away through his many mortal wounds and felt the longing to feed, as her ancestors had, on the flesh of a dying enemy.  But she didn't have time for that right now. She used her powerful mandibles to bite through her foes midsection, tearing out his heart.  She stowed it, still bloody, in her thorax pack.  She would feast later, but right now she had a job to finish before this ship exploded around her.

     She disentangled herself from the still warm corpse of what had once been the captain of this vessel and made her way back into the weapons room.  Where she found Trinson in the process of tearing the head off of the squealing, sparking Engi.  She clacked her mandibles to get his attention.  

     "I made a bit of a messssss back there of the captain."  She said.  "That sssssssshould be everybody.  I'll sssshut down the enginesss while you ssstart tearing assss much ssscrap assss you can from theessse panelsss."

     "You do have a sidearm, you know."  Rumbled the Rockman.

     She chittered in amusement.  "SSssso do you!"  She gestured to the robotic Engi head still dangling from his massive hand.

     Her stone friend just shrugged, dropping the topic.  He never was one much for conversation.  She made the all-clear call to her captain as she picked her way across the debris towards engineering.

     She was in the engine room, waiting for the dying reactor to cool enough to continue running through its shutdown procedure, when she brought the heart of the former captain out of her pack, holding it high on both foreclaws, as was proper.

     "To The Kessstral."  She whispered to herself.  "May all of our battlesss be thisss much fun!"

     The heart tasted of fear and victory.

 - - - - -

     Just F.Y.I. The Kestral is the name of the first ship you can use in FTL.  It's the closest thing the game has to a main protagonist, as literally every member of your crew is expendable (though not all at once, or you lose).

     See you tomorrow, lovelies, where I may or may not have more FTL short fiction for you.

     

     

FTL Stories - E-472

     Story time!  I've been playing a lot of FTL lately.  It's a computer game wherein you manage a spaceship on a daring mission across the galaxy.  You control the crew, which systems get power where the guns aim and even the FTL (Faster Than Light) navigation itself.  

     To put it simply, it's a game where if your ship catches fire, you can vent the atmosphere into space to put out the blaze.  It's fun and procedurally/randomly generated so no two playthroughs are the same, and I'm having a blast with it.

     The following is something I've been thinking about for a couple of days now, a short story set on board a ship from FTL.

 - - - - -

     E-472 was not pleased.

     He was trying to work on his latest puzzle, this one was a tricky shifting waveform of overlapping sound and visual encodings that could, with time and effort, be seperated into a simple message.  Puzzles like these were a favored passtime among his people.  And Engi who were particularly good at these puzzles were well regarded within Engi Society, not unlike Sportsball players, on earth.  E-472 was very good at puzzles, but the demands placed on him by his current duties were extremely distracting.  

     His days used to be slow and simple, running the interface system of a semi-automated refueling vessel, he used to have a lot of time to ponder his puzzles.  Puzzles were one of the only things he truly enjoyed.  

     He devoted 8% of his available processor power to decoding the waveform puzzle, 10% more was running a continual diagnostic on his positronic systems.  With the requisite 17% running his motor skills and visual sensors, this left a nice round 65% of his processor power devoted to controlling the weapons console on The Kestral, the ship he was currently serving on.

     Controlling the weapons was not hard.  Calculating the exact timing required to fire the burst lasers so they would pass through the gap in the enemy shields left by the ion cannon was so simple, even an Engi child could have performed the task flawlessly.  65% of his processor power was overkill, really.  But The Kestral was vital to the survival of the federation, and it would not do to make a costly mistake on this particular mission.

     E-472 watched dispassionately as his burst lasers found the quarter-second gap in the enemy's shields and stitched a line of holes across the vessels bow.  He noted a minor explosion within the enemy craft, and the sudden drop in power readings from two of the three lasers that had been pounding The Kestrals shields for the better part of six minutes now.  He spent four tenths of a second calculating the most efficient wording and then sent a message off to the bridge.

     TO: CPT A. JACKSON - SUB: STATUS REPORT - FOE WPNS DMGD.  NO LNGR ABLE TO PENTRT OUR SHLDS.  RCMD BOARD ACTN COMMENCE.  - FROM: WPNS OFFCR E-472

     Eight seconds later, the intercom next to E-472 buzzed to life.  He felt a flash of anger at this latest annoyance.  The rest of the crew continually insisted on using vocal emissions for shipwide communication.  It was so inefficient!  He quickly sent the /kill command to his anger subroutines, then, on a further two millisecond reflection, sent the /kill command to his entire emotional subsystem.  By the time that trigger was processed, the captain was speaking.

     "Good shooting, Eefour!  Switch to ion cannons to keep their weapons offline while Rask and Trinson beam over."

     Having anticipated the order, E-472 had already brought the burst lasers offline and began powering up the secondary ion cannon.  This done he reassigned an additional 5% of his processor power away from weapons control and shifted it towards his puzzle.

     He missed the days when he could devote his entire positronic brain to his puzzles for hours at a time.  But alas, it was not to be.  At least until The Kestral didn't need him anymore.

 - - - - -

     I hope you enjoyed it!  See you tomorrow!

Joking around.

     It's a snow day today and tomorrow, and since today has been spent alternating between throwing snowballs with my daughter and drinking hot chocolate to warm up, I havent had time to write much.  I do have three different short stories in the works, though, so be on the lookout for those.

     So, for today's update, I'm going to tell you guys a joke.  One that my grandfather told me years ago.

 - - - - -

     Jesus, Moses and an old man are in heaven, playing golf.  It's the last hole and the scores are tied. 

     Jesus tees off and slices the ball into a pond, where it conveniently lands on a lily pad.  He walks out across the water and chips the ball straight into the hole, hole in Two.

     Moses tees off and also slices the ball into the water trap, but this time it sinks.  No biggie, he parts the water, stomps across the lakebed and chips the ball into the hole, hole in Two.

     The old man tees off and slices it into the water as well.  A fish jumps up and eats the ball just before it sinks.  Then a bird swoops down and grabs the fish in mid-jump.  Clouds roll up and lightning strikes the bird, incinerating it and the fish and dropping the now singed golf ball straight into the cup.  Hole in One, the old man wins.

     Jesus turns to the old man and says: "Stop it, Dad, you're gonna get us kicked out!"

     BA-DUM!  TISH!

     Goodnight, everybody!

     

Weather Woes (and Woah's) The Sequel.

     Here I am, as tired as I have ever been.  Because I spent all day in and out, getting this and that ready, waiting for this snowstorm.  Well, the precipitation started around sundown and hasn't stopped.  But it's not snow.  It's sleet.

     For those of you who don't know your winter weather definitions.  Sleet is basically frozen raindrops.  Not big ones, those are called hail.  And not freezing rain, that is rain that is colder than freezing but hasn't found anything to freeze around and freezes when it hits the ground.

     It's been sleeting here for three hours now, and the effect is kinda unsettling.  It's not powdery like snow, and it's not a sheen of ice like freezing rain.  It's like someone poured little tiny pebbles all over everything.  It's actually very pretty.

     Either way, the winter weather has begun.  Our... (What's the opposite of beloved?  Beloathed?  Ima go with beloathed.) Our beloathed governor, for what it's worth, declared a state of emergency several hours BEFORE this slight dusting of sleet began.

     Idiot.

     See ya'all tomorrow, when I talk about something other than the weather!

Weather Woes (and Woah's!)

     I've been running around all day, preparing for what my wife is calling a 'Massive Blizzard' so it's been a busy one.  Let me clarify.  I live in North Carolina, almost smack dab in the middle of the state.  My driveway is an hour and 45 minutes from the nearest ocean.  It doesn't 'Blizzard' here.  It may snow, it may rain and freeze until the roads become icy, but it just doesn't get that bad.

     The thing is, my wife should know better.  She's from Kansas.  Where they have REAL snowstorms every now and then.  But, alas, nobody ever said marriage was easy, so I've been busting my butt all day gathering 'emergency supplies'.

     The only good thing about the kind of inclement weather that's being predicted is that, around here, if a single snowflake hits the ground they roll up the freaking streets.  Schools, daycares, churches, even government buildings all close at the first sign of the temperature dropping below 25 for more than an hour.  They drive massive trucks around spreading salt on the roads to keep them from icing over.  They interrupt television every half hour with weather bulletins and 'snowpocalypse, a special report'.

     Meanwhile, the whole county is racing around gathering emergency snow supplies in, I swear to god I'm not making this up, 81 degree weather.

     It's hilarious.

     So, in honor of the coming snowpocalypse*, I present to you my family recipe for the best emergency food ever.  You can prepare a tonne of these and they keep at room temp for days.  And, they're freaking delicious.

     Magicpokey's Magic Sausage Balls

     Ingredients:

     2 and 1/2 cups Bisquik(tm) brand baking powder.

     1 pound of mild or medium ground sausage, Jimmy Dean is my preference.

     3/4 of a pound of shredded sharp cheddar cheese

     1 teaspoon of maple syrup (skip this if your sausage is already sweetened in some way)

     Instructions:

     Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

     Mix the sausage in a bowl by hand with the Bisquik, pour in the cheese while you knead the stuff until all the moisture has been absorbed by the powder and there is no powder left over.  Add the syrup to the finished 'dough' and knead it all in.  Your hands WILL get sticky, so be prepared for that.

     Pinch a bit of the dough and roll it into a ball about the same diameter as an American quarter.  Place balls on a non-stick cookie sheet about half an inch apart.  Keep doing this until you run out of dough.

     Bake until awesome.**

     - - - - -

     Enjoy!  I'll see ya'all tomorrow.

     *What we are really going to get is three inches of slush that will melt as soon as the sun decides to make an appearance.  Depending on how long the clouds stick around, it might refreeze over night, leading to more ice than snow.  Nothing good tire chains can't take care of, though.  I highly doubt that we will even lose power.

     **Bake the balls until they are a nice golden brown, usually around 10 minutes, but this varies from oven to oven.

Death is only the beginning.

     Hey, everybody!  I've got an interesting one for you today.

     Last night and into this morning, I had a series of extremely vivid dreams.  I'm not going into detail, because I'm going to write a bunch of stories, but the setting was interesting enough that the first thing I did when I woke up was reach for my iPad and write down as much as I can remember.

     Once again, forgive the abrupt change in font, im pasting this from my iPad Notes app and the Blogger app doesn't have a lot of editing options.  Also, I'm not going to edit it, because I feel something may be lost if I do, but I'm going to throw up a section of the several pages of stuff for you to read.  Feel free to tell me what you think!

 - - - - -

Next World stories.

Afterlife is a lot like this life. In fact it's a series of parallel earths only MUCH smaller with a sun, weather, climates, seasons, etc.

Christian heaven is a massive metropolis with its own government

Lawyers are angels, all government workers are angels, wings are earned after years of service or special deeds.  Joining the government is the only way to become an angel.  A century of service as an angel guarantees entry into paradise.  This is called 'taking the long way round'

'heaven' is a bit corrupt.  People's rewards are based on their level of (very) strict piety on earth.  The people who earned it live in the massive upper levels in the district called 'paradise'.  Paradise is a gated community, and something like 1% of the souls in 'heaven' live there.  Most are making their way in the city, trying to find a place for themselves and just living their afterlife.

all beliefs have their own place.  "kar-ma" train lines will take a soul between realms or even back to earth if they believed in reincarnation.

Every realm has a "slum" where people who were unsure or were atheists are housed.  They can apply for citizenship to a realm by accepting a belief, or they can go back to earth at random.

After enough time in a realm, a soul will have earned enough 'manna' (currency) or learned enough through meditation (in certain realms) to ascend to a state of 'nirvanah' which is becoming one with 'God' or deity or the collective unconscious.

Manna is used as currency and can be traded.  Manna is also used to produce 'Magick' but it is expensive and very few souls make a practice of this, considering it a waste

Magick is literally a physical manifestation of energy, this can be almost anything from fireballs to telekenisis to teleportation to healing to various other uses.  It takes a lot (and I mean a LOT) of manna to ascend to nirvannah, though, so most souls just save it up.

Most souls generate a very small amount of mana each day.  This is enough to pay for one of the smaller dwellings which provide shelter but not much else.  Some souls generate more than others but this variation is never much.  In 'heaven' where the first stories take place, people earn manna by working, either in government or for another soul.

Manna is generated by the belief of people on earth.  And is stored in a tightly controlled 'well of manna' in heaven. This branch is run by an offshoot of governmental angels called 'Templars'. Who are basically the Fed.  They control the supply of mana so the economy isn't flooded.  This well is also where the power comes from for law enforcement angels to use Magick in the pursuit of their work.

Hell is a universal punishment for the truly wicked.  Most punishments come with a manna fine, or if it's really bad, excommunication from the realm.  If a soul earns a punishment, they are charged a manna fine, which will be paid off in full.  If they do not have enough manna, they are sent to work in a prison camp, where their naturally generating mana is used each day to pay off a bit of the fine until it is paid off.  Only a certain percentage can be paid up front.  Time in a prison camp is therefore not avoidable by even the very wealthy.

Fate has a weird way of playing silly buggers on people, lots of seemingly random coincidences.

 - - - - -

     I'm planning on writing at least one, if not a series of stories using this setting.  Beyond the basic setting I've laid out here, I've got four different character bios, several plot hooks and threads, and a lot of random ideas for cool set-pieces for the reader to experience.

     I'm feeling REALLY confidant about this, so expect the first sample sometime in the next few days.

     See ya'all tomorrow!

     PS>  I'm specifically saying stories and short stories here because I'm avoiding use of the "B-word".  Ideally I'd love to write a "B-word" but I don't wanna jinx this idea.  I've had good ideas in the past that, when I sat down to start a "B-word" I just got overwhelmed and never wrote about them again.  If you will recall, that's one of the reasons I'm doing this 365 day challenge, so I'll have enough material for a "B-word" at the end of it.  Wish me luck!

Stealth Dreams

     Ok.  So I figured out what happened last night with my post about radical feminism.  I was writing a well thought out and clearly stated piece and I must have been more tired than I thought I was.  Because while I was perfectly capable of understanding what I was writing, it turns out I was in a minority of exactly one people who could do so.

     You see, I fell asleep while writing the post.

     Now, falling asleep at my keyboard brings to mind a drooling face, snoring, and the repeating "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzqjdiwhqoqnzzzzzzzz".  Rest assured this is not what happened.

     I fell asleep and didn't know it.  I transitioned seamlessly into a dream where I was continuing to write my blog post.  It was so smooth that when I startled myself awake from the dream, I didn't know I had been dreaming.  I was confused as to where the several paragraphs I wrote had suddenly gone.

     This has happened to me before, most memorably in high school, in Mrs. McGillakuhty's* history class.  I was listening to her drone on and on (in that flat monotone she had developed over what had to have been several centuries of teaching) and suddenly she wasnt talking about the reconstruction anymore, she was talking about rainbows and kittens playing Sega games on her forehead.  She spent several sincere and meaningful minutes reciting key passages from 'The Princess Bride' then she explained in great detail how to flibbit a tibbity jib-jab.

     The weird thing about these...  Let's call them 'stealth dreams'...  The weird thing about these stealth dreams is that while what Mrs. McGillakuhty* was saying may sound like total, barking gibberish to you and I now, at the time it seemed perfectly normal.  This is because the language center of the brain almost completely shuts down during sleeping.  That's why you can never really read in a dream.  It's all gibberish because our subconscious has reconstructed a scene in our minds eye, but the part of us that understands language has no part in it.

     Oh, you may be able to recognize things like familiar words or familiar objects containing words, like stop signs, but we don't really read and interperate these things in our daily life.  Take a stop sign.  You know it says "Stop" in block white letters on a red octagon sometimes with a white trim.  You instantly recognize it and know what it means.  The shape and color (not the word) trigger the meaning in your brain on a level that bypasses language recognition.  If you weren't paying REAL close attention and you drove up on a red octagonal sign with a white trim and the letters "SOAP" you would instinctively stop.

     Then your language center would kick in and you would feel slightly foolish for stopping at a "Soap" sign.

     Anyway, I'm rambling a bit and getting off topic.  I guess my central point is this:  Isn't it weird that our minds are so powerful, they can trick themselves into believing a false reality by building that whole reality from scraps in the instant you transition from awake to asleep?  I think that is just the tightest shit, right there!

     See ya'all tomorrow!

     PS>. I plan on rewriting and finishing my thoughts on feminism and it's radical, man-hating offshoot.  But, long story short:  Feminism (meaning the struggle for women to be treated with equality in our society) I have no problem with.  My problem is with the small but vocal minority that advocates mandatory castration, aborting/neglecting boy babies, and calling everything from a sidelong glance to bumping into someone accidentally "Rape" (mainly because they love to play the victim).  But I'll get into that later, when I've had a good nights sleep.

     *names changed to protect the guilty** from irate former teachers.

     **me, I'm the guilty*** party in this disclaimer.

     ***not that I ever did anything to feel guilty about, mind.

It was my privilege.

     So.  Time to conquer a topic that is sure to bring in the angry letters.  Radical Feminism.  I'm talking about the women who see male cis-privilege everywhere, and no matter what happens in their lives, they blame men or the dreaded patriarchy.

     Let's start at the beginning.  The Patriarchy is a real phenomenon.  It refers to the systematic control of society by males and the cultural systems in place to keep said control in the hands of men.  This is a real thing that is happening.  99% of the 'movers and shakers' in world affairs are male.  There has never been a female president of the most powerful (both militarily and, by extension, culturally) nation in the world (U.S.A.).  The vast majority of politicians who serve in government, and businesspersons who run major corporations, are men.  Men are disproportionately represented in the 'halls of power' on this world.

     I'm not going to go deep into the reasons for this, let's just say there are evolutionary, cultural, and societal reasons for the patriarchy dating back hundreds of thousands of years to the very dawn of human civilization.

     Now.  That being said.  I'm also not going to defend the patriarchy.  Patriarchy is an outdated societal system that stems from a time when technology wasn't as prevalent and physical prowess was the most important factor in keeping lives safe and comfortable.  In a world where the strong men protected the weaker women from roving gangs of saber-toothed tigers, it was only natural for the safety of the tribe that men took the leadership role.  Anyone who has been in combat will tell you: When in doubt, listen to the guy in charge.  Not following the orders of a strict hierarchy can and will get people killed.

     But today, the patriarchy is a holdover from those older, more dangerous, times.  I believe that women are just as apace as men (in most areas) and should be allowed equal opportunity as men in most fields.  There are obvious exceptions, of course.  Major construction, front line infantry combat, and other jobs that require massive physical strength and endurance, these jobs are more suited to men.  Simply because, on avarage, men are stronger, more durable, and have more stamina than women.  On the flip side, there are some areas where women are more suited.  Women are generally more socially adept, quicker on the verbal uptake, and more sensitive to others needs.  Caregivers, organizers, nurses, etc. are more suitable jobs for the avarage woman because women are built to be more adept in those kinds of situations.

     But I'm getting off topic.  My problem today isn't with feminism as a whole.  It is with the radical reigned of feminism that seems to be sprouting up on the Internet like weeds.  This type of feminism has more to do with man-hating than equality.  I have seen messageboard posts from radical feminists who openly plot to abort a baby if it would be male.  I've seen whole articles written on how to neglect male children and coddle female children so the male children will grow up feeling inferior to the females "Because men are already so privileged that the only way for girls to compete with boys is if we, the parents, intervene to make the boys life as miserable and difficult as possible, in order to keep him from developing a sense of privilege.". That is a direct quote from a radical feminist website.

     These radical feminists claim to be fighting for equality, but what they are really fighting for is to transfer the perceived male privilege to themselves.  And that's not equality, that's just reversed dominance.

 - - - - -

     I'm going to stop here.  Because I had written about another couple hundred words on this topic and then kinda passed out and when I came to, it was gone.  I guess I need sleep.  Missing time like that is very weird for me, so I'm calling this one a night and throwing up a:

TO BE CONTINUED!

     See ya'all tomorrow!

  

Some light reading.

     As I lay here, trying to stop my back from hurting long enough to fall asleep, I find myself pondering things that go way deeper than I normally operate.  It may be an ineffecient use of up time for my brain, but I can't stop the way my mind wanders sometimes.  So I'm going to spell it out here for two reasons:  1-I want to get these thoughts down in case they turn out to be important.  2-maybe it will give you, my loyal readers, some insight into how my mind functions (or doesn't function, as the case may be).

     Did you know that light is some seriously weird stuff?  Seriously.  People think of light like a bunch of laser beams or a blanket but it's not anything like that at all.  The speed of light (approx. 586,000 miles per second) is like the absolute speed limit of the universe.  Nothing can go faster than light because the energy required to move beyond it is basically infinite.

     Light is so weird that it is measured at "c" as in E=Mc(2).  Energy is equal to Mass times the speed of light (c) squared.  Well, the speed of light is a universal constant.  Meaning when light is measured, it ALWAYS reads as (approx.) 586,000 miles per second.  And here is the part that will blow your mind:

     Light will always be measured at this constant NO MATTER IN WHAT DIRECTION OR SPEED THE MEASURER MOVES IN RELATION TO THE BEAM OF LIGHT.

     This seems counterintuitive.  Think about two cars driving along a road, if they are going the same speed in the same direction, then from the point of view of either car, the other appears to be stopped.  If they are going in opposite directions, then each car will measure the other car as traveling at twice it's actual speed, because the measuring equipment is moving in relation to the object being measured.

     Light (well, really electromagnetic radiation, but we'll keep calling it light for short) is different, and it's the only thing in the universe that behaves this way.  If you launch a spaceship from point A traveling at 1/2 the speed of light, and then fired a laser beam along a parallel trajectory next to the ships flight path, the ship SHOULD measure the laser beam as 1/2c, because the speed of the equipment doing the measuring should impact how it measures the light.

     But it doesn't work that way.

     In our previous scenario, with the ship moving at 1/2c in a straight line, with the beam of light moving next to it, the people on the ship will measure light as moving at EXACTLY 'c' (586,000 mi/sec).

     This is mind boggling!  But it's true.

     I have a few theories on why this is, but the most interesting that I can come up with is that light exists outside of our normal time.  Since speed is a function of distance and time, the only way you can have a universal constant like 'c' is by mucking about with the equation that governs speed.

     Anyway.  I'm not a physicist or a mathmatician, and I'm pretty sure I've bored you all enough for one day.  So I will leave you with this.  I am reasonably intelligent, so if there is anyone who is an actual physicist or cosmologist* who wants to explain how this works to me, I'll be glad to listen and I'll do my level best to understand.

     Until tomorrow, loyal readers!

     *(not a hair and makeup artist, that's a cosmetologist, a cosmologist is someone who studies the universe and it's origins.  Just thought I'd clear that up for you.)

I'm so tired, you could put me on a car.

     I couldn't sleep last night, I wound up reading most of a pretty boring book which I won't spoil here until I finish it.  Who knows it might get better.

     Anyway, I didn't get any sleep last night, then woke up to just enough snow to be hazardous without being enough to actually play in.

     Somewhere I found the energy to bundle up Piper (my 5yo) and take her outside before school so she could play and make snow angels, then I made her some hot chocolate and got her ready for school.

     My wife came home to me standing at the sink, hands in rapidly cooling dishwater, eyes closed, swaying slightly but fully upright, and as asleep as anyone ever was.

     Did anybody else ever just forget that they were tired until they were literally 'dead on their feet'?  Or am I just weird?

     These are the kinds of things I think about when I'm trying (and failing) to take a midday nap.

     See you tomorrow, loyal readers.

Ever had one of those days?

     Short story time, again!  Enjoy!

 - - - - -

     Jackson stared at the man across the desk before him, assessing his demeanor, his visible equipment and armor, and most importantly, his eyes.  He knew that the eyes would be his first (and maybe only) warning that an attack was forthcoming.  Jackson let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.  "Tell me again, why you came to Stonewall and Associates, Mr?..."

     He let the sentance hang, waiting for the man in the shiny gold armor to supply his own name.  In the intervening seconds he reached for another roasted fiddler crab.  They really were quite good today.

     "You can call me 'Cleric' Mr. Cobbler."  Said the man, coldly.  "And, as I explained to your associate in the lobby, I require your services."

     Jackson Cobbler leaned back in his sinfully luxurious chair, the chair was one of the few things he had demanded when he came on board with Stonewall & Associates - Freelance Adventurers.  He steepled his fingers together, took a breath to speak, and --

BOOM!!!

     The thunderous noise was so loud that the sound wave tore the building apart before the fireball even got there.  The clap of noise exploded the eardrums of both men, sending them into sudden unconsciousness as if their lives had been switched off.  Their only consolation was they were dead before the air was instantaneously sucked away, leaving both men to cough several previously vital organs into the maelstrom that picked up their corpses and hurled them towards the sea.  Just ahead of the ever growing fireball.  The armored man hit a massive stone block mid-flight, slowing him enough to be consumed and incinerated by the expanding fireball.  The corpse of Jackson Cobbler hit the ocean traveling at several hundred miles an hour, splitting into pieces and actually skipping across the surface of the water for a few hundred meters before the friction slowed him enough to sink.  The largest chunk of his body (most of his torso, his right arm, and the bottom half of his head) came to rest on the seabed, where it became the home and primary food source for a family of fiddler crabs who, in their primitive fiddler crab minds, considered him delicious.

     Had he still been alive, Jackson would have found the irony amusing.

 - - - - -

     Yeah.  So that got dark in a hurry.  Sorry about that.  I was actually planning on writing a whole story about Jackson and his client, maybe throwing in some sword fights for action and wizardry for flavor.  Then I got a bit into it and realized that I just didn't care about these characters.  My muse just ran out and I couldn't bring myself to care about where their conversation was going.

     So, I BLEW IT THE FUCK UP!

     See you tomorrow.

Short Joke

     Cutting it REAL close, because sunrise is only minutes away, but here's the update:

     Two guy walk into a bar.

     Which is kinda stupid when you think about it, because once the first guy smacks his head into a bar, you'd think the second guy would see the bar there.

     *Ba-Dum-Tish*

     Goodnight everybody!

Convention Schmonvention

     It's late and I've had a busy day, so this is going to be another copy/paste from my past.  But it's relevant, trust me.  Convention season is starting up for 2014, and that means lots of fun and hassle!  But i can help you minimize the hassle if you will just listen.  So, with that in mind, I present to you, Magicpokey's Guide to Surviving a Convention (Originally written in October of 2013)

 - - - - -

How to survive a Convention:

     1- Food - Always carry something with energy in it with you, a granola bar or some fruit, a bag of peanuts or a whole bag lunch.  A con is a three day slog with 12+ hour days and limited access to food.  High sugar foods like chocolate or candy will make you crash faster than not eating at all.  Same goes for drinks.  

     Try to avoid soda, or at least supplement your soda with something like fruit juice or water, and avoid the high energy drinks (NOS, Monster, 5-hour, etc.) until the day is winding down.  You may feel like you need a boost around lunch, but don't fall into the trap, you will wind up crashing just as the afternoon gets into swing.

     But where are you going to carry a bag lunch?  Read on:

     2 - Bags - Carry a bookbag or a comfortable bag with a shoulder strap, pockets aren't going to be enough for convention swag, and you will get sick of lugging around the plastic bag they will give you.  This also makes it easier to carry stuff you want with you.  On that note:  Bring a spare change of clothes in your book bag, also deodorant, also some fabreeze.  If you get hot and sweaty or dirty or wet you will want to change clothes and being able to pop into a bathroom and change beats the tar out of having to run all the way back to the hotel.  Then you can fabreeze your old clothes before tying them in a plastic bag so they don't stink up your bookbag.

     Speaking of being sweaty and dirty:

     3 - Hygiene - This is the most important rule of conventions, SHOWER before you go EACH DAY, fresh deodorant and fresh clothes will only mask the smell so much.  You are going to be packed in with a thousand other nerds who all have their own BO.  The same goes for teeth and mouthwash.  Fresh breath is a must if you're going to be in close quarters with other people, so bring (or prepare to buy) a toothbrush and toothpaste.  I usually bring a package of mints to chew on after I eat, so I don't have to lug mouthwash in my book bag, but I brush every night and every morning.  There is also the question of shaving.  I usually shave the night before and touch up the next morning.  If you want to make a good impression on people, being clean shaven is the way to go.  This goes without saying, but bring your razor to shave with in the morning before heading over to the convention.

     And that brings us to:

     4 - Clothing - Dress appropriately for the time of year, but remember: it's only going to get warmer when you are packed in with a thousand other people.  Wear something light like shorts or lightweight khakis, something that breathes, better to be cold for a moment outside than be sweltering all day on the convention floor.  

     This is the opposite, however, for footwear.  Always wear shoes and socks, sandals are begging for toes to be stepped on.  Not to mention, you are going to be on your feet for several hours, and most sandals don't have the support to keep you comfortable for the duration.  The priority here is keeping comfortable for long periods of time.

     And, finally:

     5 - Security - keep your wallet in a zipped up pocket in your bag, along with your keys (and phone if you don't have a shirt pocket to keep that in).  Pockets full of wallets and keys may not seem like much, and granted, pickpockets aren't really THAT much of a problem at most conventions, but why take risks?  That stuff gets heavy after a day at the con.  If you MUST keep your wallet closer to you, keep it in a buttoned pocket. I personally keep my wallet in the top pouch of my book bag with my keys.  I also transfer my phone to that same pocket whenever I'm going to be sitting for a while (food, panels, games, etc.).  And don't forget:  Put you phone on vibrate for panels, ringtones are just rude when people are speaking to a crowd.

     There you have it.  My guide for surviving a convention.  Don't let me scare you, conventions are a blast and with a little common sense, there is really nothing to worry about!

 - - - - -

     Hope ya'all enjoyed this little how-to guide.  Let me know in the comments what you think, or is you have anything to add to my list.  Goodnight, all!

MAD! Mad I tells ya!

     As part of this writing challenge, I'm going to try my hand at writing everything.  Every kind of style and genre I can possibly write about I will attempt to do so.  Today is an experiment in writing something like the insane ravings of a completely-off-the-deep-end conspiracy theorist.  Let me rephrase, when you are about to read is written 'in character' and does not reflect my actual opinions. I'm going for something akin to the poorly xeroxed 'Truth Pamphlet' that the homeless cat lady would hand out in an alleyway.

     Too Long, Didn't Read:  THE FOLLOWING IS AN ARTISTIC WORK OF FICTION, ONLY A FOOL WOULD TAKE IT FOR MY ACTUAL OPINION!

 - - - - -

     I'm telling you, Nine-Eleven wasn't arabs, it was radical feminists!

     Think about it.

     WTC 1 and 2 were some of the tallest buildings in the world, in fact they WERE the tallest in the world for a while.  Rising erect over the majestic New York skyline.

     New York.  Also known as "The Big Apple".  The Apple is a slang term for vagina when radical feminists want to talk about their genetalia in public without being harassed.

     Towers like those at WTC Plaza are some serious Phallic (or penis) imagery.

     So you have the biggest vagina in the world (new York) being symbolically ruled over by twin phalli (WTC 1/2) and their testicle (WTC 7).

     Bringing the towers down (using more penis shapes, seriously, look at a major airliner without the wings) was the single largest act of radical feminist rebellion in history.

     Also, the plane shot down in PA?  That wasn't aimed at the white house.  It was aimed at the Washington Monument.  You know, that giant OBELISK in the center of the most powerful city in the most powerful country on earth?  It doesn't get more male-power than a freaking Obelisk!

     Bring down the three biggest male-power symbols in the country (The pentagon being the hub of the male-dominated power structure) and you leave a country that is sorely lacking in male energy and is therefore ripe for female takeover.

     Think about it.  Is it a coincidence that in the years since 9/11 there has been a major upsurge in radical feminism?  Or how about after G.W.Bush (President during 9/11), we came within a hairsbreadth of having a female president (hillary barely lost to Obama in the primaries)?  No. It has been allowed to happen because we lost some of our Phallus (Male-Power) energy!

     Long Live the Patriarchy!

     

     For more TRUTH: check out www.radical-conspiracy-theories-and-ranting.net

- - - - -

     There it is.  I'm pretty proud of that, as I just wrote it stream of consciousness in like six minutes.  Again, the preceding was IN CHARACTER and does not represent my actual opinion.

     Besides.  Everybody knows that 9/11 was the work of a secret cabal within the U.S. Government as part of a treaty between the 'Grey Aliens' and the 'Reptillians' to end the war of the Templars.

     Goodnight, all!

The Crazy Valve

     Ok, I'm tired and it's been a helluva week.  So this one is going to be another copy/paste of something I wrote before the challenge began.  Bear with me, you'll enjoy it.

 - - - - -

     (September-16-2013) Earlier today, I had an actual conversation with my mom via txt message.  I was feeling kinda weird, and just needed to 'let the crazy out' for a sec.  And my mom, bless her, didn't miss a beat.  Here is a transcript of the whole thing:

     Me- Sometimes I'm afraid I might be crazy.  Then I remember that nine is bigger than purple and I stop worrying.

     Mom- As long as you realize that green is much larger than 9.

     Me- Maybe so, but eggplant is more powerful than both of them put together.

     Mom- True.  True.

     I love my mom!

 - - - - -

     You see, I'm a storyteller.  A very creative person, by nature, and sometimes I go way too long without a creative outlet.  I call this "Letting the crazy build up".  When that happens I have to relieve the pressure somehow.  I've been known to wander around the house singing showtunes and/or Christmas carols while doing different impressions.  Including, but not limited to: Kermit The Frog, Ray Charles, Mike Tyson, Barney (Rubble & The Dinosaur), Christopher Walken, Big Bird, and Jar Jar Binks.

     Hmmm...  I may have to record some truly weird music in the future...

     Anyway, I let some crazy out at my mom and she just let some of her own out in response.  It was glorious, and hilarious.  So Thanks, Mom.  It may be four months late, but thank you for knowing the proper way to handle my crazy.

     Goodnight, everybody!

SuDo /$BASH-ing my head against the wall.

     Too tired for a real update, but I do have something to say.  I've built a computer out of the spare parts in my office.  It's not a bad one, 2.6ghz Pentium 4, 2 Gigs of RAM, 120 gigs of hard drive space (spread over two drives) and a decent LCD monitor that my brother in law gave me.  The only thing she's missing is a proper video card, and she has an AGP slot.  Im planning on grabbing an older Radeon of Nvidia card to throw in it, but for now it's got a useable on board video processor.

     Having spent a grand total of nothing on this computer so far, I'm hesitant to go out and drop serious cash on a copy of windows or macOS.  Not to mention, since I don't wear an eyepatch and carry a blunderbuss, I'm not about to pirate an Operating System.

     That leaves me with one choice.  Open Source.

     Enter Linux.

     I've experimented with Linux computers in the past, and got fairly proficient with a dual-booted Red Hat 9 back in the day, I even ran Mandrake on an old laptop when I was in school the first time.  But this is the first time I've built a real Linux computer for more than just playing around.  This PC will be my 'work' computer, where I write for this blog, and render videos and such.

     I won't bore you with the details, but I will say that installing a newer version of a Linux distro (Hah!  Listen to me!  'Distro', I almost sound like I know what I'm doing!) on a slightly older computer isn't very easy.  After researching a lot of different versions of Linux, I settled on Ubuntu.  Problem is, the Ubuntu distro is too big for a CD-R and the computer refuses to boot from a flash drive.  I can't just burn a DVD because my only DVD burner is in my laptop, which some of you may remember is currently in the pawn shop.

      So, here's what I did.  I downloaded the Ubuntu mini installer.  Basically a shell of an installer program that installs the OS directly from the file servers at Ubuntu.  This took FOREVER but, after three tries, each with different settings, I finally got Ubuntu 12.10 working properly.  And I gotta say, Linux has come a long was since I last played with it.

     Anyway, I've got a few more bugs to work out, and some programs to "apt-get -install", but the computer should be ready to start work by tomorrow!  Yay me!

     PS> Did you know there was Steam for Linux?  I didn't, and I have an extensive collection of Linux compatible steam games (mostly from humble bundles)!  Color me pleasantly surprised!

The Bells of Llaquadar

     Short story time, loyal readers!  Enjoy!

 - - - - -

     Heinrich struggled to keep his eyes open and alert as he scanned the endless expanse of ocean from the gunners seat mounted on his heavy ballista.  He was one of four watchmen posted at regular intervals along the eastern, sea-facing wall of Llaquadar, it was his job to be the first line of defense against raids while the rest of the cities defenders could be roused.

     

     Four other coastal settlements had been raided in the last six nights, including the major port of New Thurm, and the confederation was taking no chances that Thurm would fall into enemy hands.  The hospital here was too valuable to the war effort.  Thus, here he was.  Usually he was a skiff runner, hauling mail and small cargo up and down the coast, but he and his two person crew had been drafted into the city watch upon arrival that morning.

     Heinrich fought valiantly to stay awake.  He hadn't had much sleep these last few days, having run his crew and himself ragged delivering messages between several cities, dodging imperium patrols, and even fighting off an imperium scoutship two nights ago.  He powered through the heaviness in his eyelids and continued to watch the waves.

     He had breifly considered arguing against being pressganged into service, but he was a loyal citizen of the confederation, and it was every loyal citizens' duty to answer when his nation called for service.  The draft was the perogative of every city government in a time of war, and while it wasn't common, it was only for a three month tour (as prescribed by the Articles of Confederation and Mutual Defense).  Heinrich had grown up in the Confederation of Free Peoples and defending his country was as ingrained into him as his own name.  As it was in every loyal citizen.

     And really.  Night watch wasn't so bad.  He just had to stay awake and watch for imperium raiding ships.  If he spotted a hostile ship, not blinking the correct entry code, he was to light the red beacon mounted over his head.  This would alert the central tower to ring the giant bells that would rouse the rest of the cities' defenders.  He might be required to fire his ballista (a massive crossbow, mounted on a swivel turret, that fired six-inch diameter wooden bolts) to slow down any invaders while the defenders were getting into position, but four turrets wouldn't do much against even a small raiding party.

     He sat up straighter in his mount, renewing his scanning.  He would not fall asleep at his post.  He WOULDN'T.  He did allow his mind to wander a bit though.  He thought back on his childhood, sitting on his fathers lap by firelight, listening to his great grandfathers tales of the early war.

     The Elvish Imperium had gone to war against all other sentient species more than a hundred years ago.  That first year had been an absolute orgy of xenophobic elves attacking and burning every non-elvish settlement on the entire eastern continent of Arcanah.  Then they started across the stormy sea.  Conquering and fortifying the southern islands one by one until they were within striking distance of the western mainland.  The drawven Undersand Mines had put up a valient defense against the elven army, but their defenses were just too weak to hold off forever.

     In response to the growing threat, the small cities and kingdoms of the western continent had banded together under the Articles of Confederation and Mutual Defense, combined all of their standing armies into a single command, and marched off to war.

     It had been a hard struggle, but the Confederation eventually fought the Imperium to a standstill.  Neither side had given up, but neither did anyone have a decisive advantage.  Things had stagnated in the century since then, with the conflict evolving into a sort of cold war that had just become a way of life for the people.

     Heinrich was startled out of hie reverie by a sudden flash of scarlet to his right, he glanced over and  Yes!  The southernmost ballista tower was ablaze in red flame, the signal of an attack!  He concentrated on the sea to the south, but he didn't see any-  Wait!  There it was!  An imperium blockade runner, sailing without running lights.  And there were two more behind it.  And four more behind those.  And eight more behind them!  It was a full scale invasion!

     He jerked on the rope that would light his signal beacon and cranked his ballista around to face the invaders.  This took precious seconds, and he had time to wonder why the bells weren't ringing yet before he got the lead ship in his sights.

     He fired his first bolt, splashing the water not six feet from the lead ship, which veered away from the shot after the bolt had gone wide.  'Heh' he thought as he cranked down the lever that activated the clockwork reloading mechanism.  He slightly adjusted his aim, fired, and was already reloading before his bolt struck a hole in the port side of the runner.  'Two for flinching!'  He fired his second bolt, still leading the front ship, and struck another man sized hole in the lead ship, but this time something strange happened.

     BOOM!

     The entire ship blew apart in a fireball that could only mean the cargo holds had been packed with gunpowder!  Gunpowder was exceedingly rare, especially this far north of the southern islands.  These ships must be bombs, trying to bring down the wall for the main attack fleet!  He didn't have time to dwell on it, as the second wave of ships was coming into range now.  Why weren't the damn bells ringing?  Surely they've noticed the signal flares by now!

     He aimed, fired and reloaded six more times.  Blowing up two more bombships while his tower mates got no less than seven of their own!  There were still five runners, skimming straight at the wall at top speed when the hail of arrows began.  Just coming into view now, on the horizon, were the elven troopships with their damned longbowmen.  The confederation could outmatch the elves in sheer firepower, but their damn enchanted bows were just plain longer range than anything the confederation could muster.

     Heinrich hunkered down behind his turret shielding, flinching as a seemingly endless cloud of arrows slammed home in the thick wood that formed a half circle in front of and above him.  He risked a glance behind him at the bell tower and caught the faint shimmer in the air that meant some sort of magic had been used.  At thi's range it was probably only a sleeping spell, but effective enough at silencing a signal tower.

     Four explosions in quick succession, each slightly closer than the last signified that his mates had hit some of the oncoming bombers.  He sat back up and fired off a quick bolt at the last remaining runner.  He ducked down, pulling the reload lever as he did, without waiting to see if his bolt would strike true.  BOOM  There it was.  'Good, at least the wall's safe, for now, but where's the damn bell!?'  He thought as a second wave of arrows rained down on his position.

     The sinking realization that the bells wouldn't be ringing brought a grim frown to his face.  Without the bells, the city defenders would be caught unawares, and with a raid this size, it wouldn't take much for the defenders to lose the momentum in a hurry.  He made up his mind and set his jaw.

     When the second wave of arrows slacked off, he began cranking his turret around.  Pointing the heavy ballista not out at sea but into the city itself.  Leaving his unprotected back wide open to the longbowmen  It took time to get into position, and he could almost hear the whistling of the third wave of arrows as he lined up his shot.

     The first arrow struck him in the right shoulder, the second in his lower back.  Another bounced off his helmet while a fourth tore a hole across his left midsection.  Still he grit his teeth and cranked the turret around.

     He was struck three more times, each one jarring him painfully, before his ballista was aligned, and his vision was beginning to fade.  He used his very last ounce of strength to pull the heavy trigger, the THWANG of his ballista bouncing his now limp body out of the mount.

     As he fell from his tower, he fought to stay conscious through the pain.  The last thing he heard was the GONG-GONG-GONG of the massive bells as his bolt struck true before welcoming blackness overcame him.

 - - - - -

     I hope you liked this one, you may have recognized the setting from my old D&D campaign.  I plan to write more stories from the Human/Elven war in the future.  Be sure to give me your feedback in the comments below!

     Till tomorrow, lads!

It's the little things.

     I'll be honest, dear readers, I'm at a loss as to how to feel.  Today SUCKED, that's for sure, but there were several moments today when things looked to be going SOO much worse, and then something happened to make it slightly easier to deal with.  So I don't know if I should be thankful that today is over and wasn't as bad as it could have been, or if I should be railing against the heavens for the atrocities committed upon me this day...

     Lists, as the inner obsessive in me is always quick to point out, always make things easier to deal with, so I'm going to make a list of the crap that happened today and try to figure out in writing how I should feel about all this.

     Con - My van blew its serpentine belt this weekend, and I had to replace it myself yesterday.

     Pro - It only cost me about $15 to do it (Thanks J.D. and Santiago)

     Con - When I went to pour water in my radiator, it all poured out on the ground

     Pro - Otherwise, the van ran well with the new belt, it even stopped squeaking.

     Con - I had to get a tow truck to tow my van to the radiator shop

     Pro - I didn't have to pay for the tow truck (Thanks, AAA)

     Con - It was going to cost me $280+ to fix radiator

     Pro - I got paid today, and had almost hat much left over after paying bills.

     Con - It was raining and I had to run errands...  On foot.

     Pro - My first two errands were within a block of the radiator shop

     Con - Turns out, van will be in the shop until tomorrow, instead of 2:00, looks like I'm renting a car.

     Pro - Car rental guy is willing to waive the deposit.

     Con - Car rental place is across town, at least two hours walk from my location (in the rain).

     Pro - Out of the blue, random stranger #1 offers me a ride.

     Con - Get to car rental and the car I had reserved over the phone (the last car on lot) is gone.

     Pro - Another car gets returned immediately as I'm talking to the guy.

     Con - Substitute rental is in REALLY bad shape.

     Pro - Get a call from repair shop, van will be done today after all.

     Con - Rentel is so FUBARed I have to cancel a Dr. appointment (unsafe to drive that far).

     Pro - Doctor has a miracle opening next week (waiting list is like months for this guy).

     Con - Uh oh!, van is worse off than we thought, gonna be an extra $125 at least (over budget).

     Pro - Mechanic is willing to accept partial payment and bill me.

     Con - Van will cost me $400+ now, in total, plus $50 car rental.

     Pro - Van could've been in the THOUSANDS if a certain fragile part had cracked (I got LUCKY).

     Con - Oh noes!  Van starts spewing smoke after picking it up, and the shop is closed!

     Pro - Random Stranger #2 (a mechanic) assures me it's normal, will clear up on its own.

     Con - Return rental Eighteen Hours early because van is 'fixt', waste of $50.

     Pro - Rental guy gives me receipt for 1/2 off next rental as compensation.

     As you can see, it's been a roller coaster of a day.  I'm still out $300 for the van and rental, but the van is running better now and this did happen on payday.  This whole day has been overall sucky, and I wish this crap wouldn't keep happening to me.  But.  At the same time, I'm grateful to the fates that this day could have been a LOT worse, but little things kept going unexpectedly right to smooth things out.

     All in all:   I'm not particularly upset, nor am I particularly happy.

     You know what I am?  Most of all?

     Tired.

     I'm going to bed, ya'all.  Goodnight.