I am working on an ongoing art project in circular forms. Reminds me of diviners and tea leaf readers. A collage of paper shapes on a plate. I stumbled upon some curious configurations, one lights the whole room, one whirls like a tempest in a tea cup. Each form destructs or constructs or transtructs. Been getting strange emails of late asking me to sale the forms for 10 qzots and 50 quantizims. I was worried about alien abduction er thugs but one email had a disclaimer about the rite of passing permissions and unlawful energy flow access strictly enforced. Am I legit after all I stumbled upon this thing, this phenomenon, energy wells and shafts. I glanced in the mirror and saw a glowing mark on my right ear. I touched the mark while gazing in the mirror, a heads-up display appeared with records of procedure, sales and of course my diploma from Megagalactic Tech where I majored in multi polar quansits and quantim metacircular transforms. Sales have been down and I am spending time in my transient impersonation on vacation. I guess I like it too much and forgot myself. On this side of the galaxy I'm called "eBe", the energy bender. Anyway circular transforns are all the rage. Next year we are venturing into squares, yeah it's old school but folks like that edge of the universe feeling they get whizzing through the quantimhood. Qzots, you know the exchange rate into dollars is insane. Better off insisting on Quantizims, as they can be transduced into any currency in this universe. Did you note anything starting with a "q" sounds quosmic?
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...minus Chili Palmer!
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| LASplashdotcom |
Replacing roofs and pavements with more reflective versions could lower global temperatures by up to 0.07 °C, equivalent to a reduction in carbon-dioxide emissions of about 150 billion tonnes. That is according to researchers in Canada who used a global climate model to look at the effects of such albedo changes in urban areas.
I almost don't want to post the next paragraph:
"Scientists have been proposing novel ideas – mostly untested – for the geoengineering of global climate," says Hashem Akbari of Concordia University. "But humans have had experience with white buildings and reflective pavements for thousands of years without any unknown negative side effects. Hence, cool urban surfaces should be our geoengineering 101."
The problem isn't geoengineering...it's political will.
Physics World: Reflective roofs and pavements could fight climate change
The battle flag ship Righteous Staff moved into the planet’s higher orbit to join the five hundred Varient Class assault cruisers present.
Cleric Ovisl of the Order of the Cleansed stepped onto the bridge’s visual interface plate, activating a holographic image that pieced together like a photonic jigsaw puzzle.
A face and a background formed before the cleric. A scene of fire, smoke and red-tinged devastation framed the visage.
“Cleric Ovisl,” the image uttered with a justified mix of fear and reverence.
Ovisl was one of those rare clerics who enjoyed venturing beyond the cloistered confines of the Yarilian Temple.
“Your presence is a most unexpected pleasure.” The image’s features broadened to a welcoming smile.
“I congratulate you on your victory over the heretics, General Pirqai,” Ovisl offered graciously.
The flag ship’s captain, Uriss, and Ovisl’s prime aid, Ipsol, flanked the cleric.
“Your praise is worth more than a mountain of treasure,” General Pirqai gushed. “Over thirty million heretics we have erased from this existence. Millions more await punishment for their crimes against the Bringers and those who uphold the Precepts.”
“I am pleased with the vigor of your efforts to crush dissenters and preserve the Precepts.”
Pirqai’s preening blinded him to the creeping coldness encrusting the cleric’s expression.
“Of course,” Ovisl continued. “Putting down uprisings have been something of a regularity for you from the day you assumed power. It is an endeavor that you have been exceptionally good at. Unfortunately, you govern a population that chooses willful disobedience over the wisdom of the Bringers. And your population has made that atrocious choice repeatedly enough as to have exhausted the patience the Bringers have for so long harbored toward the wayward.”
“I need more mediators,” Pirqai eagerly requested. “So that the wisdom of the Bringers can be reinforced. Plus, I need additional funding to construct new temples. I have had to raze thousands of temples that were used as bases for heretic activity. These measures in addition to my purges will decrease the likelihood of future revolts.”
“We have sent you enough mediators to fill all the temples in a dozen star systems,” Ovisl emphasized, glancing at his prime aid, who lifted a hand in agreement. “You have been provided with enough funding to purchase the Compact five times over. All to little avail. General, your world has become a hotbed of heresy and while you have managed to stamp out its activity in one area, in another it arises anew like a regenerating head on a multiheaded headed serpent.”
The gloss of accomplishment on the general’s face paled to a look of dire concern. “Blessed Cleric…I can assure you that after this day, there will be no more trouble from heretics…”
“I do not doubt that you sincerely believe that.” Ovisl turned away from the general’s image. “I do not doubt your loyalty or your faith. You are a true Child of the Bringers. What I do doubt is your ability to eliminate heresy permanently. Your world has become hopelessly contaminated. There is only one cure for what ails your population. Because your world is not essential to the existence of the Compact, this is a cure I can well afford to implement.”
Ovisl stepped off the plate and the general’s image disassembled amid a flurry of desperate pleas.
“You may begin decontamination, Captain.” Almost as an after thought, Ovisl added: “I am not nearly as patient as the Bringers.”
Captain Uriss briskly acknowledged the cleric’s command and snapped orders to Weapons Control, orders that reached the orbiting assault cruisers.”
A single object, shaped like an octagon and approaching the size of a large satellite, launched from each cruiser and the flag ship.
The objects burned through the planet’s atmosphere on guided trajectories. Most soared toward the planet’s five continental land masses. The remainder zeroed in on the planet’s largest oceans and seas.
The objects shattered in synchronized detonations less than a fourth of a mile above the surface. Purple clouds were released by the airbursts. The artificial cumulus billowed across the surface with a ravenous swiftness no natural storm system could hope to match. Chemical agents suffused the rapidly coalescing clouds; agents that paralyzed, asphyxiated, then burned its victims, not with fire but with acid.
Ovisl observed monitor footage from a hundred different angles of mass death below. The millions General Pirqai proudly proclaimed to have slaughtered became a pitifully faint tally in comparison to the five and a half billion claimed by expanding chemical clouds.
A sickly purplish shroud coated the atmosphere, displacing ecosystems, choking the planet in a worldwide grip of death.
Bridge monitors flashed grim images of charred corpses layering city streets, and rural lands. The chemical clouds even penetrated the waters, summoning sea creatures from murky depths where they floated lifeless atop acid-churned waves. Vegetation wilted and died. Mountains and buildings and other features constructed by sentient hands or molded by nature appeared unscathed by the chemical catastrophe. They were not. The chemical was persistent and in time, its lingering, corrosive effect would grind the staunchest structures to powder. Who knew when this planet would be livable again? A decade? Centuries? The creators of the chemical did not concern themselves with such a matter. Their only focus was the level of its lethality.
Ovisl lowered his head, muttering a solemn prayer, not for those among the deceased who had denied the truth of the Precepts, but for the many more billions of innocents who suffered the lamentable fate of being collateral damage.
“The Bringers will know their own and reward them for their faith and devotion.” Buoyant with the fervor of the righteous, Ovisl exited the bridge, followed by his prime aid.
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| Dirac Cones - PhysicsWorld |
Physicists in the US have done calculations that suggest "Dirac cones" exist in thin films made of bismuth and antinomy. Dirac cones are features in the electronic band structure of a 2D material where the conduction and valence bands meet in a single point at the Fermi level...According to Tang, the films could also form the base material for next-generation electronic devices. "Electron speeds in devices made of bismuth–antimony would be hundreds of times greater than those in current silicon devices," he says.
Physics World: Dirac cones could exist in bismuth–antimony films
Upcoming FREE Workshop
Topic: Character Cake (Character Development)
Facilitator: Deatri King-Bey
Date: Apr, 28 2012
Time: 4-5 p.m. Central
Location: Become A Successful Author Website (link and password will be given the day before th...e event)
Note: You must be signed up for the newsletter to attend the workshop. A link to the monthly newsletter is on the right hand side menu of the Become A Successful Author website. http://www.becomeasuccessfulauthor.com/2012/03/whos-telling-this-story-point-of-view/
Enjoy
Dee
ATTN: Sci-fi and Fantasy authors, here is a free course given by the University of Michigan: Fantasy and Science Fiction: The Human Mind, Our Modern World https://www.coursera.org/#course/fantasysf
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| German artist Alexander Preuss, Ufunkdotnet |
Walt Disney Imagineering is the master planning, creative development, design, engineering, production, project management, and research and development arm of The Walt Disney Company and its affiliates. Representing more than 150 disciplines, its talented corps of Imagineers is responsible for the creation of Disney resorts, theme parks and attractions, hotels, water parks, real estate developments, regional entertainment venues, cruise ships and new media technology projects.
By blending creativity and innovative technological advancements, Walt Disney Imagineering has produced some of the world's most distinctive experiential storytelling... more at the site.
Call it "Dreaming Dreams," part II, and a help to teachers instructing science:
Scoopdotit: Using Science Fiction to Teach Science
The Hierophants is back up for sale at these fine retailers
The Hierophants @ ComicsMonkey
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| Nabbed. This oddball transistor with a normal metal electrode (N) and a superconducting electrode (S) registered signs of Majorana fermions at the two ends of a nanowire spanning the electrodes. Credit: V. Mourik et al |
In 1937, after the rise of quantum mechanics, Ettore Majorana, an Italian theoretical physicist, realized that the new physics implied the existence of a novel type of particles, now called Majorana fermions. After a 75-year hunt, researchers have now spotted the first solid evidence of their existence. And their discovery could hold the key to finally creating workable quantum computers .
Prior to Majorana's work, Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger came up with an equation that describes how quantum particles behave and interact. Paul Dirac, an English physicist, tweaked that equation to apply it to fermions, such as electrons, moving at near-light speed. That work tied together quantum mechanics and Einstein's special theory of relativity. It also implied the existence of antimatter, where every particle has an antimatter counterpart—such as electrons and positrons—and that the two would annihilate each other if they ever met. Dirac's work suggested that some particles, such as photons, could serve as their own antiparticles. But fermions weren't thought to be among them. It was Majorana's manipulations of Dirac's equations that suggested the possible existence of a new type of fermion that could serve as its own antiparticle.
Science Mag: Physicists Discover New Type of Particle--Sort Of
My writing is taking a back seat as I prepare for the first of two solar eclipses this year. On May 20th there will be an annular eclipse of the Sun. During an annular eclipse the moon moves in front of the Sun, but part of the Sun remains visible. It is necessary to wear protective eyewear at all times. Here is a short video showing the January 6, 2011 annular eclipse as recorded by the Hinode Satellite.
http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/videogallery/index.html?media_id=49165671
For the annular eclipse I will be in Tokyo, Japan, making a documentary film. The documentary titled "Black Sun" is about two African American astrophysicists and their upcoming observations of the solar eclipses in 2012. We are raising funds for the filming in Tokyo via a Kickstarter Campaign.
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/677592353/black-sun-documentary-film-about-the-2012-solar-ec
I am passionate about this project because it shows a different part of the African American community, a part normally not seen. We made a short five-minute promotional film of our two stars: Alphonse Sterling and Hakeem Oluseyi.
http://blackcommunityentertainment.com/videos/1345/black-sun-five-minute-short
The annular eclipse will be visible from the western United States. Remember to protect your eyes.
Wish me luck on the campaign!
...a fictional one, a dear literary memory so we will not become "smooth dinosaurs" (Octavia Butler, "Parable of the Sower"; "Parable of the Talents").
Web site: The B612 Foundation
The Little Prince: Asteroid B-612
There are three extremely important elements of story creation. Therefore, it is highly important that all aspiring writers hone their skills in these three areas of fictional writing. These three elements are important for any type of story regardless of the story’s length be it a short story, novella, or novel. This three elements are: the beginning, the point-of-no-return, and the climax. Each of these elements has an important function in crafting a story and can either make or break it. If either of these story elements are lacking, nonsensical, or not present, the audience/reader of that story will either quickly forget it or worst – feel like they have wasted their time!
What is the story’s beginning?
There are numerous and varied definitions for a story’s ‘beginning’. However, I think the most helpful of ways an author can think of a beginning is this - the establishment of the promise of your story. Every story makes a promise to its reader, and that promise can be anything! (This is why there are so many different genres of fiction!) Depending on the type of fictional story you are writing (for example: a romance promises a love story or a thriller promises excitement), your promise will vary. However, in the end, that’s really what a beginning of the story is: crafting and setting up a promise to your readers.
What is the point-of-no-return?
The point-of-no-return is the scene, act, or chapter of a story that ‘seals the character(s) fate’. This is generally were the middle of a novel starts. It’s the scene were the audience/reader realizes that the characters can’t go back and must face whatever trials and problems that await them during the tale.
What is the climax?
Most aspiring writers mistakenly believe that the climax is the end of the tale. Wrong! The climax is where the beginning’s promise is fulfilled. If you are a romance’s writer – that character must find love, or you’ve failed your readers. If you’re a mystery writer – the main character must solve the crime. Failure to fulfill those initial promises in your stories will only make your readers feel disgusted or cheated. Therefore, your story has reached its climax when the story’s beginning promise is fulfilled.
So remember – whenever writing a fictional story, make sure that these three elements, the beginning’s promise, the point-of-no-return, and the climax, are well established because these three elements will determine if your story becomes a classic or is tossed into the trash!
Three weeks ago my fiction and poetry collection, How to Recognize a Demon Has Become Your Friend received a Bram Stoker Award!!!! Amazing! The competition was all good so I'm honored to have received it.
Then two poems from the collection are on the Honorable Mention List for Best Horror of the Year, volume 4 (by Ellen Datlow)
[http://ellen-datlow.livejournal.com/391918.html]
Feeling real blessed here...linda
I had a Ford coil--a spark coil from an automobile--and I had the spark terminals at the top of my switchboard. I would put a Raytheon RH tube, which had argon gas in it, across the terminals, and the spark would make a purple glow inside the vacuum--it was just great!
One day I was playing with the Ford coil, punching holes in paper with the sparks, and the paper caught on fire. Soon I couldn't hold it any more because it was burning near my fingers, so I dropped it in a metal wastebasket which had a lot of newspapers in it. Newspapers burn fast, you know, and the flame looked pretty big inside the room. I shut the door so my mother--who was playing bridge with some friends in the living room--wouldn't find out there was a fire in my room, took a magazine that was lying nearby, and put it over the wastebasket to smother the fire.
After the fire was out I took the magazine off, but now the room began to fill up with smoke. The wastebasket was still too hot to handle, so I got a pair of pliers, carried it across the room, and held it out the window for the smoke to blow out.
But because it was breezy outside, the wind lit the fire again, and now the magazine was out of reach. So I pulled the flaming wastebasket back in through the window to get the magazine, and I noticed there were curtains in the window--it was very dangerous!
Well, I got the magazine, put the fire out again, and this time kept the magazine with me while I shook the glowing coals out of the wastepaper basket onto the street, two or three floors below. Then I went out of my room, closed the door behind me, and said to my mother, "I'm going out to play," and the smoke went out slowly through the windows.
Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman, Part 1: From Far Rockaway to MIT: He Fixes Radios by Thinking!
NobelPrizedotorg: Richard P. Feynman
LuLu’s Dance
By Rebekah L. Pierce
(a dark, smoky dance hall room circa 1940s – men in uniform and some not laughing and drinking uproariously along with female counterparts to Benny Goodman’s “Wartime Swing”; a .50 cent per dance club- a lone woman sits with her back to the party dance holding on tightly to an empty glass eyeing the clock above the bar fervently – deep frowns crowd her face; she is named LuLu; she is wearing a black wrap dress with red lipstick on pencil thin lips; her skin is pale & she has thick, black hair which is rather tangled up like a spider’s web)
BARTENDER
You want another drink, LuLu?
LULU
(a raspy voice, tired)
Yeah, sure! Why not?
BARTENDER
(suspicious)
You got money to pay for this one? We’re closed for freebies, girl.
LULU
(closes her eyes and shakes her head no)
But I’m good for it, Frank. I swear. I got money comin’ tonight.
BARTENDER
You’ve been saying that every night now for 3 weeks.
(leans in closely)
He ain’t comin’ back, LuLu. There ain’t no money.
LULU
(near broken now)
You don’t know him, Frank. He wouldn’t lie to me. Not Jimmy. Not now. He knows how badly I need to return home. He wouldn’t leave me here … alone.
STRANGER
(grabbing LuLu)
Hey, sugar! You wanna dance?
LULU
Leave me alone!
(pushes him violently and flashes a small pocket knife at him)
STRANGER
Hey, you ain’t gotta be nasty about it! Bitch!
(storms off sloppily)
BARTENDER
Calm down, LuLu! We don’t need no trouble in here tonight. Here’s a drink. It’s on me this time.
LULU
(eyes Frank suspiciously, but then downs the cool drink)
What’s the date, Frank?
BARTENDER
June 2 … 1943.
LULU
1943. Are you sure?
(bartender nods his head in confirmation)
That long?! It’s been years … since I came here? All those many years gone by … that fast.
Isn’t that funny, Frank? Seems like centuries, even.
BARTENDER
(nods his head watching her closely – she is a danger to herself and others, he knows)
Yeah! Time don’t seem to move around here.
(the music stops and the dancers clamour gloriously back to their tables for fantasy and more drinks – LuLu watches the door intently, waiting)
LULU
Remember when he first came here, Frank? I … I was new, fresh off the bus.
BARTENDER
Yeah, came here to find your fortune … same as everyone else.
LULU
(glares at him for interrupting)
I wasn’t like them other girls, Frank, and you know it. I had big plans for my life … real plans. I’d already saved $10 when he came here. You know how hard it is to save that kind of money these days, Frank? The war has everyone clutching their wallets close to their hearts. You need a knife to remove it, but back then, it was so much easier.
BARTENDER
LuLu, ain’t nothing easy no matter what it look like on the outside.
LULU
What?
BARTENDER
(pouring her another drink)
Drink?
LULU
(looks at the glass softly then back to the door waiting)
He’s gonna come tonight, Frank. I can feel it. None of these guppies got anything on him. We’re gonna make it big, I tell you.
(pause)
Hey, remember when he proposed to me? Right here!
(she tries to stand up, but must use the chair as support)
He got down on one knee … right here. He didn’t care I was a … a … dance girl. No, he saw somethin’ special in me. I always knew I had it, too. All that travelin’, I knew it.
(the band starts playing again, a swing, Glenn Miller’s “One O’Clock Jump” ; the dance floor is alive and breathing again; LuLu glares heatedly at the dancers and then gives up; her eyes soften towards the door)
Why’d he have to go over there? They could’ve got on without him. Time is leaving me behind, Frank. I gotta catch up soon.
(in walks a lone man in an Army uniform – tall and dark, he looks unsure at first, hesitant, but then he storms in with fake exurberance and heads for the bar where LuLu is watching him)
SOLDIER
Bartender, a bourbon, please.
(he turns to notice LuLu staring at him; a small smile crosses his face reluctantly)
And one for the lady?
LULU
(silent, staring)
SOLDIER
You like bourbon?
LULU
(finds her voice)
It’ll do.
BARTENDER
(eyeing LuLu carefully)
Sure thing.
(pours more drinks for the two)
SOLDIER
My name’s John.
(LuLu is still silent; Ellington’s “Take the a Train” serenades the dancers)
What’s yours?
LULU
(eyes him squarely, sizing him up)
Are you sure it’s not Jimmy? You look like a Jimmy.
JOHN
(laughs a little squeamishly)
No, I know my name. It’s John.
LULU
(inhales and returns to looking at the clock above the bar)
It’s .50 cents to dance; a quarter to know my name.
JOHN
Whoa! Ok, then! Let’s dance.
(pulls .75 cents from his pocket and places it in her outstretched hand – they exit to the dance floor where Ellington’s “In a Sentimental Mood” now plays)
I paid. Now can I know your name?
LULU
(crestfallen)
You mean you don’t know already?
JOHN
(smiles sheepishly)
No I don’t. Why? Should I? Have we met before? I think I’d remember if we did. You’re not the kind of girl a man could forget.
LULU
What kind of girl am I to you?
JOHN
Oh, I don’t know. A nice girl … to hold onto in a dance.
(a little nervous)
(Maxine Sullivan’s “When Your Lover Has Gone”)
LULU
I love this song. It makes me whimsical.
(chuckles)
JOHN
What’s so funny?
(turns her round, dancing)
LULU
Where are you from, John?
JOHN
Oklahoma. This is my first tour of duty. I ship out tomorrow for Europe.
LULU
So you came here for one last dance, then?
JOHN
Yes … something like that. I mean … Where I come from, there aren’t too many pretty girls like you to dance with.
(the band has stopped playing for another rest; LuLu and John go back to the bar)
LULU
You think I’m pretty?
(sips her drink)
JOHN
Why yes!!!!! The most beautiful girl in the room! I noticed you first … as soon as I came in … So where are you from?
LULU
Does it matter where I come from?
JOHN
Oh, I don’t know. Just making conversation, I guess.
LULU
I’ve been waiting here for a long time … for someone special … to return. We have plans to marry and move to my home … where I’m from … to start a family.
JOHN
Really? A family … well, I … wish you luck with that.
(prepares to leave)
LULU
Where are you going?
JOHN
Well, I don’t want to intrude on some other man’s space, you see.
LULU
(narrowed eyes; John wonders if she can see him out of them)
Texas. I’m from Texas. Yes, there’s plenty of space there … and time.
JOHN
(anxious to leave now)
That’s nice. Why, we practically live right next door to each other. Well, I gotta be going now.
(stands to leave)
JOHN
(grabs his arm)
LULU
Won’t you stay a minute and buy me another drink? It feels as if I’ve been waiting forever and I’m awfully lonely.
JOHN
Lonely?! But you can’t be … wait? What is your name? You never told me.
LULU
My name?
(pauses)
I’m whomever you want me to be, John. I’m your private dancer, you see.
JOHN
(nervous again)
My pri … well that sounds crazy¸ you know! You gotta have your own name. I can’t give you one.
(Band plays Glen Miller’s “In the Mood” – the soldiers and girls dance)
LULU
Do you want to dance?
JOHN
No … I …
LULU
(smiles sweetly into his face and lays her hand on his arm)
No charge, John. Please. I have to earn my keep or I can’t go … home, you see. We must all earn our way home … John.
JOHN
Oh, alright! I don’t like to see a pretty girl such as yourself put out. But I really must go afterward.
LULU
Yes, you will go … afterwards.
(they dance in the middle of the crowd – John is beginning to enjoy himself as they twirl around to “In the Mood”; LuLu takes out the small pocket knife and stabs him in the heart where her head had laid as they embraced in the dance; no one notices his body fall to the ground)
LULU
It seems we’ve run out of time after all, Jimmy.
(LuLu walks back to the bar, blood dripping from the knife onto the dance floor creating a trail)
BARTENDER
What happened? Wasn’t that him?
LULU
(looking earnestly at the door to the club)
No. He didn’t even know my name.
BARTENDER
Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow night! Another drink?
LULU
(slides a quarter absentmindedly towards him as she eyes the clock once more)
Yes. Maybe.
(the end)
Chamberlain rose from his walnut-framed bed. He was a thirty-two year old, blond man with gray eyes, solidly built and ruggedly handsome. His butler had already drawn the silk curtains, and a cup of espresso flavored with fresh cream and lemon peel, placed on his matching walnut dresser.
He pushed the first button embedded in his nightstand. The hovering computer screen facing his bed powered up, and his personal assistant Helena appeared on the 25 inch screen. Her skin was the color of tanned coconut, and she had blue eyes, with a wide nose and full lips. Her thick, black hair was pulled back in a bun.
The Free World Genetics Division was working on a formula to breed out dark skin and negroid features from the coming generations. Chamberlain smirked. I sure hope not. I like my meat dark... Still, that's not my call. Space Travel and planet colonization— now that's my specialty.
Helena's lips turned up in a professional smile. “Good morning, Mr. Paschal.”
He sipped his coffee. “Good morning, sweetness; what do we have on the menu today?”
“You're free until noon, sir. At 12 pm, you're having lunch with Senator Schuyler to discuss financing the experimental Probe flights.” Her smile widened. “And you're going to sell hard, because they're going to cost billions.”
Chamberlain scowled. “Despite the fact that we still need to find a planet to sustain human life —and an alien species willing to share. We know they're out there! But I swear they're running from us.”
Helena raised an eyebrow. “If you were them, wouldn't you run? I mean, we've destroyed our own ecosystem.”
“Careful baby, keep that kind of talk up and you won't get a raise.”
The secretary smiled flirtatiously and said nothing. She was extremely talented and they'd worked as a team for years. She could take liberties from time to time. True, there were hundreds he could replace her with, but it would take too long to train them; and she knew him better than he knew himself.
Good thing I'm too light to suit his taste, thought Helena.
Chamberlain grinned back. “Is that it?”
“No sir. At three you're meeting with General Pica, of Intergalactic Space Travel to inspect the experimental Probe ship technology and meet the new recruits.
“At 6:00 you have to meet with the head of Colonization and Earth Housing, Natalie. I don't have a last name for her.”
Chamberlain furrowed his handsome face. “Keep working on it...Is that it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good deal. Find a suitable place for me and Schuyler to have lunch.”
Helena flashed her professional smile again. “I email the reservations to you within 30 minutes—along with the notes for your first meeting.”
“Helena, you're a doll.”
She chuckled. “Yes, I know.” The screen went dark.
Chamberlain pushed the second button on his nightstand. “Good morning, Mr. Paschal,” a voice on the intercom above the table responded.
“Good morning Darla, I'll be down in 30 minutes.”
“Yes sir. Breakfast will be ready.”
He stepped into the bathroom to the right of his bed for a shower. He finished, and emerged, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His suit, shirt and shoes were already lying neatly across a made bed.
Chamberlain dressed and headed downstairs through a spacious hallway to his dining room, where his breakfast of porridge, toast and eggs was waiting. It was, of course, still warm. He had a very efficient staff.
* * *
Chamberlain called his driver, Sammy, using his combination watch and wrist band. By the time he stepped outside, his sedan was in the circular driveway.
Sammy, a heavy set black man, got out and opened the door for him. “Good morning, Mr. Paschal.”
“Hello Sammy,” he slid inside.
“Where to sir?”
“Let's take a drive into the city.”
“Very good, sir.”
Sammy circled the driveway and drove the twenty miles through his gated community. Miles overhead a livid orange and black sky glared down on them through the dome ceiling. Once the chauffeur reached the exit, he keyed in the code. Double doors slid open to his left and right, and Sammy drove out. Immediately, a cloud of mutant bees swarmed over the car, and the chauffeur pushed another button on the dash: electrifying the car. Dozens of them were fried, and the rest flew off for less dangerous territory.
Chamberlain lived in a 30 room mansion. He had no wife, children and his parents, who'd both been scientists, were dead. But they'd been kind enough to leave him a hefty inheritance, and the keys to a burgeoning astronautics empire.
Which was very fortunate for him, because the Earth was dying.
The planet's waters were polluted (he had his decontaminated and shipped in). Ninety percent of the animal population was dead, and the rest were horribly mutated. The air was poison. And the weather...the weather was a miasma of storms, heat waves and solar flares—shifting from 50 degrees to 90 within the space of a day.
The rich, like him, lived in gated communities under domes. Their purchased oxygen was pumped in. Earthlings without jobs wandered the streets, panhandling, and squatting in deserted building—those that hadn't been already demolished.
Those with jobs also lived under domes, but in rooming houses with rationed water and oxygen; the rest of their earnings going toward rent and food. This was with the exception of a fortunate few like Helena who thrived as personal secretaries, chefs, maids, butlers...
And astronauts.
Space cadets were plucked and groomed from the age of 12 for their exceptional math and science abilities. By eighteen, they were eligible for Space academy training as pilots and technicians. Once they graduated they were given their pick of the finest dome apartments, and other niceties.
Astronauts were quite simply Earth's elite. For they held the future of humanity in their hands...
To be continued
Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers 2012 all rights reserved
The Last Flight Of Noah's Ark is a Disney film released by Buena Vista Distribution on June 25, 1980. The film stars Elliott Gould, Geneviève Bujold and Ricky Schroder. (Wiki)
A poignant note for yesterday's last flight of Discovery before retirement to the Smithsonian Institution. Noah's Ark; the Epic of Gilgamesh et al are essentially, stories of survival, using engineering principles to do so. I feel humans must become a space faring species, even if the only extraterrestrials we eventually encounter are our own grandchildren.
Washington Post: Shuttle Flies Over Washington DC
Kepler...and Tatooine. They went there. 
The Christian Science Monitor: NASA's Kepler observatory to continue hunt for strange new worlds
BOULDER, Colo. – Physicists at JILA have demonstrated a novel “superradiant” laser design, which has the potential to be 100 to 1,000 times more stable than the best conventional visible lasers. This type of laser could boost the performance of the most advanced atomic clocks and related technologies, such as communications and navigation systems as well as space-based astronomical instruments.
Described in the April 5, 2012, issue of Nature,* the JILA laser prototype relies on a million rubidium atoms doing a sort of synchronized line dance to produce a dim beam of deep red laser light. JILA is a joint institute of the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) and the University of Colorado Boulder (CU).
JILA/NIST physicist James Thompson says the new laser is based on a powerful engineering technique called "phased arrays" in which electromagnetic waves from a large group of identical antennas are carefully synchronized to build a combined wave with special useful features that are not possible otherwise.
NIST: JILA Team Demonstrates 'A New Way of Lasing': A 'Superradiant' Laser
The Ethiopian-American hip-hop group CopperWire's science fiction themed album EARTHBOUND is released today. That's quite a lot to squeeze into one sentence but that's because this album is so many things at once. I once wrote an essay titled Is Africa Ready for Science Fiction? Since then, several African science fiction narratives have slowly emerged. Now in the musical arena, the pioneering continues.
CopperWire is a collaboration of Gabriel Teodros, Meklit and Burntface; all three are Ethiopian American artists with internationally distributed albums and years of social and cultural activism work. And all three love science fiction. According to the album description, "They named their collaboration CopperWire and chose outer space as their vantage point, stepped off the surface of the planet and claimed extraterrestrial roots to better make sense of our world." Cool.
How did I get involved? One day, Gabriel reached out to me. He'd been reading Who Fears Death as they recorded EARTHBOUND in the studio. He said he was digging the novel and wanted me to write the creative bios for the album. I listened to it and immediately was like, "Hell yeah!" I not only wrote the bios but I was utterly addicted to the album from that point on (and still am). It's phenomenal and I'm very proud to be an honorary member of CopperWire.
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| Read the full bios here |
Now EARTHBOUND has officially landed on earth. Purchase the album here.
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| Album CD. Isn't it pretty?! |
In celebration of the album's arrival, here is the video premiere of the single "Phone Home" (which includes footage from space, a 17th century castle in Ethiopia and the first Hip-Hop shows to ever happen in Gondar and Harar). Click here to view video (for some reason that I don't have time to figure out, this site won't let me embed the video directly here).
