R&D: Media covering the story gave lots of credit to British physicist Peter Higgs for theorizing the elusive subatomic "God particle," but little was said about Satyendranath Bose, the Indian after whom the boson is named.
"He is a forgotten hero," the government lamented in a lengthy statement, noting that Bose was never awarded a Nobel Prize though "at least 10 scientists have been awarded the Nobel" in the same field.
The gentleman you see removing his glasses (expressing a lot of emotion for a theoretical physicist), is none other than Peter Higgs himself (~0:51 into the announcement). A primer on the Higgs Boson (the Boson we have Satyendranath Bose to thank for) will post tomorrow...
...I did not come up with the title.
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| Credit: Rice University |
The research, published last week in Nature, seeks a new approach to battery fabrication by using materials that can be spray-painted onto various surfaces. Combined with flexible printed circuits and research in spray-on solar cells, the technique offers the prospect of turning common objects into smart devices with computing power and storage. Another possibility is consumer electronics, such as cell phones or cameras, with a battery coating.
Technology Review: Spray-On Batteries Could Reshape Energy Storage
Phoenix Jones is a young Black man and self-proclaimed crime fighter in a socially progressive city ( Seattle ). He famously has a two-fisted approach to stopping urban crime.
To his credit he’s living proof that all young Black men aren’t what I call “chocolate klanmen” thugging their way through life.
As an older Black man who’s also in what the media calls the ” real life superhero ( RLSH ) ” community I’ve marveled at Jones’ color blind acceptance from the press, liberal and conservative. This argues well for where America is since its most famous costumed crusader is also part of the late Trayvon Martin’s generation.
I’d assume ( thank God ) Phoenix didn’t grow up under Jim Crow-lite like I did. His biography shows challenges in his upbringing which are indicative of our era.
My acute concern as a RLSH while Black is that Phoenix needs to be very, very careful during his interventions. Already arrested once ( case dropped ) local police are not exactly thrilled with his activities. While no racial angle has emerged it’s worth noting nonetheless.
He’s still a Black man using force and detaining White people- even in the liberal Pacific Northwest that’s risky. The same caveat applies to Black suspects he encounters. One biased cop; upset complainants plus one biased prosecutor equals life changing potential trouble for this young man.
My analysis might be a little too Old School for Phoenix reality but is offered anyway. As a Southern RLSH activist who began in progress-challenged Savannah, GA., being Black while wearing a mask ( “superhero” or not ) would have created more problems than it would have solved- like being mistaken for a criminal and shot by police! ( LOL ).
Phoenix Jones is the flip side of the Trayvon Martin tragedy: instead of a victim or too often for young brothers; a suspect, Jones is a self-appointed crime fighter or vigilante depending upon opinion. Should scores of other Black men follow his example will society be so accommadating?
Black while wearing a mask Jones isn’t a ” Black “activist vocally focused upon racial issues. He’s no cowled Al Sharpton and thus accepted much more readily. His brand is simple: red-blooded American male decides to do something about crime beyond fuming or dialing 911.
All I’m saying is, ” Be careful brother. ”
People have mostly accepted you for what you say you are but beware those who can’t accept America’s number one “real life superhero” being Black. Look at the grief President Obama gets in some quarters and learn.
My duty as a fellow anti crime activist while Black and male is to pass this unsolicited advice along to Phoenix Jones.
Phoenix Jones; race and being a real life superhero has yet to become a viral debate topic. Perhaps it never will.
But, you never know what direction this stuff can take- esepcially if people begin plotting against you for whatever reason.
NADRA ENZI AKA CAPT BLACK promotes creative crime prevention and homeless outreach. (504) 214-3082
NADRA ENZI AKA CAPT BLACK
ANTI-CRIME ACTIVIST
CHOCOLATE KLANSMEN ALERT! SPEAKER
http://moveonup.ning.com/profiles/blogs/chocolate-klansmen-alert-speaking-tour
By ALICIA MCCALLA
Rating: Not yet rated.
Published: June 29, 2012
Words: 5780 (approximate)
Language: English
ISBN: 9781476479491
Extended description
Flee: A Short Story is the prequel to the Soul Eaters: An African Elemental Novel. After the death of her grandmother, Shania Moore, a 27-year old African-American woman is tormented by her ex-boyfriend and a paranormal serial killer. When Shania falls into a dream realm and connects with an ancient African Goddess, her earth magic awakens. Shania realizes that in order to save her daughter’s magical soul, she must run into the arms of the white man that she lied to about having an abortion and stood up at the altar ten years before.
Here's the direct link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/177278
If you'd like to discuss some of the themes in this short story, join the discussion on www.aliciamccalla.com
Artwork, comic books (that's where I come in, :-D. I wrote the "warning" at the very beginning, too), video games, a system to remix music and more- all African science-fiction themed! Watch the video and let it explain everything far better than I can...
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| Image: CERN |
However...
TECHIE BUZZ:
The Higgs announcement
The announcement is expected to a big one – especially with the predicted discovery of the Higgs by the end of the year. The status of the Higgs will not be changed to ‘discovered’, but we will get to know how far we have actually reached.
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| Source: Science Daily |
A new study published in Science examined a particular class of high-Tc superconductor, known as an iron pnictide. ("Pnictide" refers to an atom in the same column as nitrogen in the periodic table.) K. Hashimoto et al. found evidence of a quantum critical point (QCP): a place where the material's properties change radically due to quantum fluctuations rather than changes in temperature or pressure. While many physicists suspect the presence of a QCP in high-Tc superconductors, none have found unambiguous evidence for its existence. The current study is still not definitive, but the particular iron pnictide material the researchers used provides far cleaner data—and stronger hints that the QCP is actually there. Its presence would reveal a great deal about the inner workings of high-Tcsuperconductors, perhaps helping lead to even higher temperature superconducting devices.
In the case of high-Tc superconductors, the key parameters are temperature and doping. The iron pnictide superconductor in the recent study was BaFe2(As1-xPx)2, where "x" is the doping fraction. (In this case, the pnictide is the arsenic.) The researchers picked this particular pnictide due to the ease with which pure crystals of the material can be grown and how clean the resulting data is. For x values roughly between 0.2 and 0.7, BaFe2(As1-xPx)2is a superconductor; outside those values, the material isn't superconducting at any temperature.
A QCP—if it is present—marks another type of phase transition [beyond solid-liquid-gas-plasma], where quantum fluctuations at absolute zero change the superconducting behavior of the material. While absolute zero isn't experimentally achievable, the quantum fluctuations start at (relatively) higher temperatures, changing the behavior of the flow of the charge carriers.
Ars Technica:
Quantum fluctuations may uncover a clue to high-temperature superconductivity
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| Partnering Organizations |
Vector: National Alliance of Black Educators Endorses Physics First
Twilight Time
(an erotic tale)
~Excerpt
He said: “Baby you know what I like, and I love showing you time after time. Let me give you my lips— anywhere I want to put them on you. . . so romantic and very intimate.”
She said: “I love doing what’s right to you— giving you all of me—being freaky and naughty to make you happy...”
Unexpectedly, she lifted up her miniskirt: showing her thick, smooth thighs and fire-engine red panties and boots. She walked slowly over to him, and put her arms around his neck...
Copyright 2012 Quinton Veal all rights reserved
Available at amazon in print and kindle
and Barnes&Noble nook
also from author
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| Credit @ link below |
Wilczek and Shapere persuasively argued that there's no reason why similar periodic structures couldn't exist in time. And they said that finding them would give physicists a new way to study the process of symmetry-breaking and the laws of physics behind it.
There was just one problem, however. These guys hadn't worked out how to build a time crystal.
Physics arXiv: Space-time crystals of trapped ions
Writing dialogue can be challenging to new and veteran writers alike. However, if you are new to writing there are a few simple things to keep in mind when constructing dialogue for your short story or novel. Here are some things to keep in mind:
What Not to Do When Writing Dialogue Tip #3: Betraying your character
When writing dialogue, you must keep in mind the character you are talking about. I can’t stress enough the importance of keeping your character ‘in character’ as much as possible. Example: If your character is from the1800s, he will not use today’s slang to describe his thoughts and feelings. Now this may seem obvious to some writers, but I can’t count the times I’ve seen such an obvious mistake when reading a story.
Therefore, in order to keep your character ‘in character’, research, outline, and finalize your characters before you start writing. This may take more or less time depending on the type of story you are writing (if a short story only a skeleton is needed, but if a series – a key character development map is a must) , but it will make your writing a bit easier in the long run.
What Not to Do When Writing Dialogue Tip #4: Betraying your reader
Betraying your reader is one of the big no-no’s in writing! Whether you are writing fictional or non-fictional works, if you betray your reader, you are in big trouble. How can a writer betray their reader when writing dialogue? There is a way and that way is by creating dialogue that does not match your story’s plot procession, theme, or distracts a reader unreadily.
This is a tricky balance a writer must work with and be under no illusions – creating the right piece of dialogue and deploying it at the right moment is tough! Dialogue is a form of action and depending on the story can be the most important action your characters undertake (this is especially true for introspective or observational story pieces). Make sure that your dialogue matches your story’s overall themes; Your reader will notice if it does not.
More on Dialogue in the Next Post
If you have any questions, please post them below in the comment section!
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| National Research Council |
US research universities face serious decline unless the federal government, states, and industry take action to ensure adequate, stable funding in the next decade, says a new report by the National Research Council. Universities must work harder to contain costs, enhance productivity, and improve educational pathways for students to careers both within and outside academia, the report says.
Written by a 21-member committee chaired by Bank of America chairman Charles Holliday Jr., the report responds to a request from Congress to recommend 10 actions that the nation should take in the next five to 10 years to maintain top-quality US research institutions. Among those steps, the committee urged, was that of doubling the budgets of NSF, the Department of Energy’s Office of Science, and NIST that was called for in the 2007 America Competes Act. But for fiscal 2013, the administration requested just a 4.8% increase for NSF, and a 2.4% increase for DOE’s Office of Science. Only the relatively tiny NIST R&D programs got the magnitude of increase needed to keep it on a doubling trajectory.
You go to you're favorable design school, you get you're degree and/or certification, and then you finally start freelancing. But, how do you know how much you're worth? Some schools talk about this, others don't at all. You go around doing design after design, getting little in return for your work. Why? Because they can!!! If you don't know how much your worth as a professional designer, guess what? You want be professional very long!
Being a freelance designer is hard enough! You don't need you're profits being ripped from you as well! So what's the best resources to learn you're worth? First I would like to show you a powerful web site for the information standards for creative designers. It's called AIGA
Let's say for example your a Graphic Designer with a focus on print media. You have about a year experience doing this for a profession. For a quick over view of price range check out part of the site on this link @ http://designsalaries.org/. They have the info for print design rates and more. I would really like to recommend becoming a member here too, because of the wealth of information and the association benefits you gain also. There is a important document to download for contracts in design work @ http://www.aiga.org/standard-agreement/.
Do you need some some legal protections also? I'm not a law type guy myself, but as you can imagine it's greatly important just as the design work you're doing. To help with this, check out http://www.legalzoom.com.
They have good info and sales plans for LLCs, In-corporations, and so on. Remember to look for the essentials only when choosing your freelance business model. I would recommend keeping up to date with AIGA to match your legal needs. I would also recommend a book to help in conjunction with Legal Zoom called "Talent is Not Enough", it's a very formal but down-to-earth book on creative business practices.
Lastly, as a freelancer you will have very high feeling of loneliness as far as the support of doing this yourself. I will give my final site advice, and it is known as http://www.freelancersunion.org/.
This site is a great support structure for freelancers doing there thing! It's a vast community of freelancers with information on insurances and more!
So there you have it! Some powerful resources to help you on your quest to get bank! But, remember this is just the beginning. There so many unknown factors in freelancing that something wrong is going happen. But, remember to go step-by-step. Stay on the AIGA's site, go around other designers and build a relationship with them to learn much as possible. Do not just blindingly depend on your education in schools for vital information!
Links:
http://www.amazon.com/Talent-Not-Enough-Business-Designers/dp/0321702026
http://www.freelancersunion.org/
There's also a Sci-Fi Symposium. Astronaut Mae Jemison, M.D. is chair.
100 Year Starship invites you to participate in the journey of a lifetime! On this mission, everyone has a seat – Thought leaders, experts, trendsetters, space advocates and space enthusiasts, international space agencies, established businesses and start-ups, financiers and entrepreneurs, governmental and non-governmental agencies, universities and private industries, including entertainment, medicine, education, the arts and athletics – and, of course, the general public. You are all invited to join us on a journey to improve our world today as we explore the challenge, benefits, potentially enabling technologies, strategies and awesome potential of interstellar flight to another solar (star) system.
From exotic propulsion systems, exoplanets and “where do we go?” to the social, economic and cultural considerations of “why or should we go?” there’s a technical or academic session just for you. In addition, workshops, classes, networking venues, the Expo, entertainment, celebrities, speakers and guests will enhance your experience and ensure that you have an opportunity to consider and contribute to the wide range of space and related topics needed to chart the research, design, development, policy, outreach and aspirational activities from which long-distance space travel will be generated.
Dear Friend,
We are pleased to invite you to submit to the “Call for Papers” the upcoming 100 Year StarshipTM 2012 Public Symposium to be held in Houston Texas on September 13 – 16, 2012.
The 100 Year StarshipTM (100YSSTM) considers broad and in-depth public engagement critical to accomplishing human interstellar flight within the next 100 years. The 100YSSTM Public Symposium is central to gathering and sharing knowledge, aspirations, capabilities, as well as building advocacy, imagination and momentum. During the symposium space experts will participate in a platform for cutting-edge research, space enthusiasts will expand their knowledge, and the public will be engaged by an interactive exposition.
The Symposium’s technical session issues this open call to individuals and organizations from all disciplines—amateur and professional—to contribute to understanding, developing and building the solutions needed for successful interstellar flight.
The 2012 Symposium’s theme, Transition to Transformation...The Journey Begins, acknowledges the accomplishments of space exploration to date and calls for authors to consider what changes are needed in how we currently envision and “do space” to truly push forward humanity’s journey to another star. Papers should focus upon those transformative ideas and processes within each track—science, technology and paradigms— that facilitate the breakthroughs in space exploration.There are four technical tracks at the Symposium and a series of special sessions as described in the 2012 100YSS Call for Papers
Papers accepted will be included in the 100YSS 2012 Symposium Proceedings. Papers selected presented individually or as part of a panel as decided by each Track Chair. The Abstract Submission Deadline is June 30, 2012. Authors whose papers have been submitted for presentation will be notified by July 29; and final papers must be submitted by August 17th.
If you have any questions, please contact the 2012 Symposium Technical Chair, Dr. Richard Obousy at richard.obousy@100YSS.org. We look forward to your participation in our symposium and hope that you will submit a paper.
Sincerely,
Mae Jemison, M.D.
Chair, 100YSS Symposium
Richard Obousy, Ph.D.
Technical Chair, 100 YSS Symposium
I was researching for my website and ohmygosh, stumbled over these two books! Why, oh why aren't they on my bookshelves already?
Dark Matter: A Century of Speculative Fiction from the African Diaspora (Ages 15+)
The Amazon.com review:
"Dark matter: the nonluminous matter, not yet detected, that nonetheless has detectable gravitational effects on the universe. Dark matter: the Afro-American presence and influences unseen or unacknowledged by Euro-American culture. Dark Matter: the first anthology to illuminate the presence and influence of black writers in speculative fiction, with 25 stories, three novel excerpts, and five essays. This anthology's critical and historical importance is indisputable. But that's not why it will prove to be the best anthology of 2000 in both the speculative and the literary fiction fields. It's because the stories are great: entertaining, imaginative, insightful, sharply characterized, and beautifully written. The earliest story in Dark Matter is acclaimed literary author Charles W. Chesnutt's "The Goophered Grapevine" (1887), in which an aging ex-slave tells a chilling tale of cursed land to a white Northerner buying a Southern plantation. In "The Comet" (1920), W.E.B. Du Bois portrays the rich white woman and the poor black man who may be the only survivors of an astronomical near-miss. In George S. Schuyler's "Black No More" (1931), an excerpt from the satirical novel of the same name, an African American scientist invents a machine that can turn blacks white. More recent reprints include science fiction master Samuel R. Delany's Nebula Award-winning "Aye, and Gomorrah..." (1967), which delineates the socio-sexual effects of asexual astronauts; Charles R. Saunders's heroic fantasy "Gimmile's Songs" (1984), in which a woman warrior encounters a singer with a frightening, compelling magic in ancient West Africa; MacArthur Genius Grant recipient Octavia E. Butler's powerful "The Evening and the Morning and the Night" (1987), in which the cure for cancer creates a terrifying new disease of compulsive self-mutilation; and Derrick Bell's angry, riveting "The Space Traders" (1992), in which aliens offer to trade their advanced technology to the U.S. in exchange for its black population. Other reprints include "Ark of Bones" (1974) by author-poet-folklorist Henry Dumas; "Future Christmas" (1982) by master satirist Ishmael Reed; "Rhythm Travel" (1996) by playwright-poet-critic Amiri Baraka (who has also written as LeRoi Jones and Imamu Amiri Baraka); and "The African Origins of UFOs" (2000) by London-based West Indian author Anthony Joseph.
Most of the stories in Dark Matter are original; these range even more widely in their concerns and themes. In the generation ship of Linda Addison's "Twice, at Once, Separated," a Yanomami Indian tribe preserves its culture in coexistence with technology, while visions tear a young woman from her own wedding. Bestselling novelist Steven Barnes examines degrees of privilege and deprivation when an African American woman artist is trapped in an African concentration camp in his unflinching contribution, "The Woman in the Wall." In John W. Campbell Award winner Nalo Hopkinson's sexy, scary "Ganger (Ball Lightning)," two lovers drifting apart try to reconnect through the separation of virtual sex. A mystic power awakens in the devastated future of Ama Patterson's gorgeous and tough "Hussy Strutt." An artist's infidelity changes two generations in Leone Ross's astute, magic-realist "Tasting Songs." In Nisi Shawl's sharp, witty mythic fantasy "At the Huts of Ajala," the spirit of a modern woman must outwit a god before she is even born. Others contributing new stories are Tananarive Due, Robert Fleming, Jewelle Gomez, Akua Lezli Hope, Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, Kalamu ya Salaam, Kiini Ibura Salaam, Evie Shockley, and Darryl A. Smith. --Cynthia Ward"
Dark Matter: Reading the Bones (Ages 15+)
"In the tradition of The Norton Anthology of Black Literature, DARK MATTER: READING THE BONES, like its ground-breaking predecessor, will introduce black SF, fantasy, and speculative fiction writers to those who have not yet realized the depth and breadth of their work-or even, in some cases, that it exists. Including original short fiction and nonfiction as well as previously published works and essays, DARK MATTER will contain approximately 30 stories from the early part of the century through the most cutting-edge work of today. Contributors to this new volume include Charles Johnson, National Book Award-winning author of Middle Passage; Tananarive Due; Walter Mosley, W.E.B. Du Bois; Samuel R. Delany; Nalo Hopkinson; and many more."
I can only ask myself, "Why aren't these books on my shelves?" I've added them to my own wish list because these are must-have collections for anyone seeking stories and books based on cultures outside of the traditional American/European sci-fi experience. (RDJ)
The first one will be called " The ghost of Rodney King
Where the brother wil come back not to raise hell and cause problems or get revenge.
He will come back to observe and only interfere when somebody is getting some type of injustice served upon them.His new purpose is to preven what happen to him while here not to happen to anybody esle,especially if they are really innoncent.
The second one wil be based on the idea of the lady who was just made a prosecutor of the internatioal court.
Only in this story it will be a universal court and they will send out their people to arrest all the real criminals behind the scenes to be put on universal trial and then given a sentence of life in iimbo in time
Invinci-Man slammed into him with a bone-crunching wallop, his massively muscled arms wrapping Jackson in a super powered bear hug. Jackson squirmed to break the grip, but his borrowed strength had run out. He was helpless as a field mouse in the clutches of a hawk. Gone was the look of casual indulgence on Invinci-Man’s face. A cruel glimmer shined from his eyes. Jackson felt exposed as a newborn in the light of the other’s utterly ruthless gaze. “We’re done toying with you.”
Invinci-Man went into a sudden dive. Jackson’s gut lurched. Within a millisecond of hitting the ground, Invinci-Man released his hold on the armored man with a shove and shot upward. Jackson torpedoed into the top of a tractor-trailer truck. Both tractor and trailer were sheared in half on impact an instant before the collision’s full force shredded them to scrap, producing a bruising shock wave that blew out every window in every building in the vicinity.
Jackson groaned. Half his body was embedded in concrete beneath the tractor/trailer’s flaming wreckage. His climate control must have been shot, which explained the failure of his armor to provide insulation from the ferocious fire-generated heat. He needed to get up and out before he baked to death inside his armor. He tried to extricate himself, but the entire left side of his suit refused to respond to his neuro-linked nudge. “NEED HELP?”
Jackson looked up to see the Nile Goddess plunging into the fire with star staff raised. She brought the staff down in a blurring stroke, striking Jackson’s paralyzed left shoulder. A crimson orb issued rapidly from the blow, followed by a powerful blast that tossed up an oil black mushroom cloud. A hot breeze cleared away the worst of the smoke. Jackson lay prone at the center of a deep, steaming depression.
Parts of his armor hung in scorched, tattered strips, barely connected to its pliable, carbon-nanotube inner layer. In some places the armor became porous, oozing globs of inertial gel. His AVD flickered in and out. Snowy static clouded the remainder of his displays. Of course he didn’t need diagnostics to tell him that his suit was no longer functional. As for his body, he ached to high hell from that final round of abuse inflicted on him by Invinci-Man and Candace.
The slightest motion ignited a firestorm of pain. But he weathered the suffering, rising slowly to his knees. He could rise no more. He pulled a string of release tabs along the upper section of his neck guard and removed his helmet, tossing it aside. Jackson ran a hand down his face, wiping away perspiration.
He lifted his head and saw that he was surrounded. Invinci-Man, the Nile Goddess, Windrider, the Blue Blur, and Machine-Ware loomed above him from the ridge of the depression. Undoubtedly, they would have slaughtered him on the spot. All it took was one word from Invinci-Man. Jackson stared at Invinci-Man, partly resigned, partly defiant, and waiting for the latter to give that word.
Instead, the leader of the Guardian Protectors hovered and descended into the pit, his expression softened by sympathy and memories of bygone fraternity. Jackson remembered as well, and for a moment the two men shared fond memories in silence. “What happened to you, Jeff?” Jackson asked with a tinge of anguish. “How did you of all people cross that line from a noble caretaker to being no better than the thugs, lowlifes, and murderers we used to battle?”
Invinci-Man tilted his head, his brow narrowing as if mulling over the question. “Call it enlightenment. One day an epiphany hit me. I realized that people don’t need caretakers, they need prison guards. They need control, discipline, structure. And if they go astray they need swift, harsh punishment to correct their errors. Who else can provide these things other than those of us endowed with the capabilities, be it by accident, design or birth, to exert our will over this depraved planet?”
“How has the killing of innocents made this world any better than before you decided to run rough shod over it?”
“I don’t worry about the innocent. What is that saying?” Invinci-Man caressed his broad chin in a show of thought. “Ah, yes…let God sort them out.” He settled on his haunches, looking Jackson square in the eye, scrutinizing, searching. “Your self righteous platitudes choke with hypocrisy. You hadn’t always abided by the law in your crime fighting. For all the wonderful hi-tech toys that sprang out of that genius head of yours, you were still nothing but a vigilante.”
Jackson dropped his eyes. “You’re right. I was a vigilante, albeit a glorified one. I admit to operating outside the law when I had to accomplish an objective. But this…what you and the others are doing…I never embarked down that path.”
“But you considered it! Didn’t you, Victor?!” Invinci-Man leaned in close until his piercing, umber eyed glare became the only object in Jackson’s scaled down universe. “Be honest. You never thought once about using your suit to its fullest potential?” Fullest potential. The question stung in ways Jackson couldn’t disregard. He kept his eyes averted, unwilling…or unable to meet the other’s gaze. Invinci-Man stood, choosing not to press for an answer. His tone weighed heavy with regret.
“You should have joined us, Victor. I hate that you forced me into this position. I would just love to plop you inside a maximum security lockbox somewhere far from civilization. But then I’d have to spend my every waking hour worrying that you might figure a way to escape. We can’t be distracted by loose ends. Not while we’re in the midst of whipping this world into shape. I can make this quick and painless for you. It’s the least I can do for a friend.” Jackson eased his way to a standing position. Pain surged like electricity through his body.
“Thanks for the offer, Jeff,” he managed through gritted teeth. “But I have a second option.” Invinci-Man possessed multi-spectrum vision. Had he used the X Ray portion, he would have spotted a thumbnail size wafer lodged beneath Jackson’s temple. Jackson pressed a finger to his temple, activating an implant. That action sent up a transmission to a satellite orbiting in geo-sync directly above Valor City’s South District. Invinci-Man’s brow crinkled in suspicion. Suspicion morphed into alarm.
He made a move toward Jackson. “What are you…” A haze of light suddenly filled the depression. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut. Even so, the searing brightness soaked through his eyelids, fully immersing him in a glaring void of white. Seconds, moments, minutes may have passed. Jackson had no idea. It was like he slipped into a crease in time.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Invinci-Man was gone. Jackson searched the ridge. The others were also gone, seized by the light. “And this was the least I could do for a friend.” Jackson sank back to his knees as exhaustion took its toll. Intelligence Chief Yohannes Brady approached the ambulance where a paramedic just completed wrapping Victor Jackson’s ribs in bandages. Jackson gently prodded the area above his two cracked ribs and winced. Brady expressed something close to paternal concern.
“How are you, Ace?” Jackson’s lips parted minimally in a tired smile.
“I could be better.” He gave a thumbs up. “But I’m alive.” The intelligence chief looked around, taking in the bleak sight of a neighborhood resembling old footage he’d seen of Berlin in the aftermath of World War II. The place had truly been a warzone. The difference in this case was that the combatants comprised one human, of extraordinary brilliance with technology to match, pitted against a squad of super-powered psychopaths. Brady had to shake his head at the wonder of it all.
“Your suit held out pretty well. Longer than I expected to be honest.” “It took some hellified punishment, didn’t it?” Jackson boasted. On a serious note, he added: “I upgraded it. I needed it to last just long enough for me to gather them in one area.”
“And spring your trap,” Brady finished. “What exactly was that light beam from the sky? A weapon? Did it kill them?”
Jackson shook his head. “No, they’re not dead…at least I’m sure they’re not. There exists multiple universes, multiple realities. I discovered a way to open a door to any one of them. The satellite I built created a portal.” Brady gave a look verging on merriment.
“You sent Invinci-Man and his gang to another universe?”
“I’m not exactly comfortable with that outcome,” Jackson qualified soberly. “I would’ve liked to have had time to vet universes before I used the portal. Now, I’m afraid I might have sent them to a populated realm where they’ll be able to duplicate the terror they’ve created here. But I needed to get them out of this universe with all due haste, before they caused further pain and suffering.”
The intelligence chief nodded thoughtfully. “Humanity is going to be damn grateful to you for getting rid of them. And don’t worry. Chances are you sent those bastards to a place without people. They could be stranded on a dead world.”
Jackson considered the possibility. “Could be.” At that moment, a sleek black SUV limo pulled up beside the ambulance. The driver, a long-legged, cocoa skinned beauty (whom Brady suspected might have served Jackson in other ways) emerged from the vehicle.
“Mr. Jackson, thank God you’re all right,” said the driver reaching for her employer’s arm. “Hello, Chastity…no, please, I don’t need help. Thank you.” Chastity held back her assistance, but remained vigilantly close as Jackson moved gingerly toward the limo.
“And where are you off to?” Brady asked.
“Home,” replied Jackson. “I’m going to hit the sack and sleep for a week…maybe two.”
“Oh.” Brady looked troubled and hesitant, but only for a second. He tried to mask his unease with affability. “Hey, uh, why don’t you hang out with me for a little while. We can run to the local office, you provide a debrief, and afterward I’ll treat you to your favorite restaurant.” Nothing in the intelligence chief’s manner escaped Jackson’s keen notice. Which is why he enjoyed seeing the other trying to suppress a squirm as he refused the invitation.
“Appreciate the invite, but I’ll debrief later. And my favorite restaurant is not in this city. It’s not in this country for that matter.”
Chastity opened the limo door. “Victor,” Brady called out. “How does it feel being the only Guardian Protector?”
Jackson’s expression dimmed with melancholy. “I’m no longer a Guardian Protector. They don’t exist anymore.” He stepped into the limo and the driver closed the door. An hour later, Jackson entered his ops center located in the basement level of his mansion. Chastity Hunter, his driver and assistant, frowned her disapproval, insisting her employer get some much needed rest. Jackson kindly declined her advice. Rest could wait for a few minutes. There was something he needed to check on. The side walls of his ops room were lined with book shelves that were neatly stocked with thousands of volumes. The facing wall was a gigantic terminal screen that doubled as a CCTV monitor.
A brown leather bound swivel chair and a large maroon desk with a computer and keyboard sat in the center. Jackson noticed the swivel chair was turned a hairbreadth of a degree to the left, evidence of an intrusion. His suspicion was confirmed. There were other ways he could tell that he’d been breached. One of them he picked up from MachineWare who long ago constructed micro-size video pickups the size of dust particles. Jackson had deposited a small handful of the micro-cams throughout the ops room, on the floor, the book shelves, the desk.
He pressed a key on the keyboard, bringing the wall screen to life. Then he inputted a code that pulled recorded visual data from the micro-cams and transferred it to the screen. A view of the ops room from the perspective of the west facing book shelf came up. Three figures in black skulked into the picture. One took a seat at the desk. The other two did a circuit around the room before taking guard positions on opposite sides of the door.
Dressed in head to toe black combat gear and armed with short barreled assault weapons, Jackson had no doubt the intruders were Intelligence Branch Para-Military ops soldiers. He fast-forwarded the scene. The soldier at his desk was typing on the keyboard. Jackson knew what the soldier was after. He was trying to crack Jackson’s network, gain access to his files in order to steal his technology. It was the schematics to the armored suit that they wanted in particular. That was the prize. Instead of feeling alarmed or violated, a certain amusement fell over Jackson. Brady’s people thought they had executed a clean in and out operation, undetected.
Of course, they did manage to bypass his security to get this deep into the mansion. Jackson would give them that. The Intelligence Branch didn’t recruit slouches. Good as the organization was, however, it wasn’t that good. The intruders still failed to hack into his files. Jackson tapped another key, bringing up a schematic of his suit. His network remained the most secure on the planet.
If the full resources of the federal government couldn't break it, no one could. He smiled. He actually liked Brady and had worked with the intelligence chief in the past. Strip away layers of subterfuge and a good person lay at the core of that which was Brady. Nevertheless, Jackson trusted the man about as far as he could toss the moon. Jackson plopped in his chair, fixated on the schematic. His thoughts raced back to the question Invinci-Man asked him…the question he didn’t want to answer.
But Jackson knew the answer. The temptation to abuse the power of his suit dogged him like a bad habit since he built the thing. The urge still beckoned, a devil’s enticing whisper appealing to the very worst aspect of himself, an aspect he could ill afford to let loose upon the world. He couldn't…would not follow the others down that dark path. Oh well. There was only one way to overcome temptation: get rid of the source. He could have turned over the suit’s schematics to the government. No good. The military would have replicated it. One super advanced armored suit had been enough. A mass produced army of suit wearing killers amounted to an affliction the world could damn well do without.
His finger hovered over the delete button. He faltered for a few seconds, before tapping the key. The schematic vanished from his screen. Years of research, development, creation… purged… gone. Jackson’s shoulders slumped. He was an ordinary citizen again. The world would have to tackle its own problems. Humanity didn’t need superheroes. It didn’t need caretakers. He stared at a blank screen, staving off feelings of loss and emptiness. He would get over it in time. He stood and walked out of the ops room.
He never looked back.
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