April 15this the day! Countdown at the link below.
Or...you can commiserate over your taxes (ahem: like me). 
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Good morning fam:
I just wanted to let everyone know that my 4th and 5th novels Immortal IV: Collision of Worlds and The Switch II: Clockwork are now available at amazon and barnes and noble! Readers can also contact me for purchase :)
The long awaited sequel to the Switch! Includes Book 1 & 2
"As she looked on, the target unzipped his jumpsuit and pushed it down. His blond companion sauntered over to his desk, and slipped off her pants..."
York is a city of contradictions. Women are hard-pressed for lovers, because lovemaking can be dangerous. The upper city is powered by computers, the underground by steam. And the wealthy don't work for a living, underdwellers do it for them.
But certain underdwellers have a big problem with this arrangement. And so does the time keeper.
Welcome to the Revolution...
Cover art and design by Quinton Veal
Danita Henries awoke at the helm of her Star Sprinter, grimacing as pain roared through her head like a tornado. She leaned back in her chair, massaging the ache out of her skull until the worst of the storm subsided. Reaching up to an overhead compartment, she pulled out a first aid container, opened it, took out a thin blue tube, and popped a pain tab. She placed the tab on the tip of her tongue and felt it dissolve in her mouth. The pain vanished in seconds, enabling Danita to focus on her current predicament.
The last thing she remembered was eluding a raider ambush by entering a nebula. There was a reason why those raiders didn’t follow her into the cloud. Raider anti-ship missiles degraded her shield, increasing the Sprinter’s vulnerability to the nebula’s harsh radiation. When her instruments went haywire and her screens turned fuzzy, thoughts of frying pans and fire flashed through her mind.
She undid her restraint harness and stood, stretching out kinks, making sure the rest of her was whole and fully functional. Then she checked her panel, tapping buttons to get her instruments active. Her electronics were quiet as a graveyard.
She hit the panel in frustration, but in so doing the forward monitor sparked to life.
A surface of silvery grass popped on the screen, stretching to a treeline in the near distance. Beyond the treeline loomed a cluster of ivory colored buildings.
Danita’s felt relieved that she at least crashlanded on a world appearing to harbor higher life, judging by the structures. Apprehension poured a damper on that relief, though. What if the higher life was hostile?
She mulled over the possibility as she removed a console access panel and fiddled with a few relays. Additional screens came on.
Danita checked the diagnostic readout. Most of the Sprinter’s drive capacitors were damaged in the landing…such as it was. Five thrusters were down along with a series of burnt out optics.
No worries. Well…mostly. She was a good enough mechanic where she could effect necessary repairs. But she needed parts. They didn’t have to be perfect, just compatible.
Danita eyed the buildings on the screen, rubbing a hand through the woolen thickness of her jet-black hair. It was time to find out how friendly and generous the locals were.
Ten minutes later, Danita departed the Sprinter, wearing a nanotube-lined flak vest and a mirror tinted sun visor. She carried a Nova-Cell carbine, with a Durex 12 assault pistol holstered on her right hip. The weapons belt around her waist accommodated a combat blade, solid munitions clips, a brace of grenades, and a first aid pouch.
Preparation is the first rule of self preservation. She always harkened back to those words prior to a new venture. Words of wisdom from a revered combat trainer.
Danita’s mood brightened in recollection as she tread cautiously through stiff, chafing knee high grass.
The sky twirled with every color in the spectrum. The same blaze of colors as the nebula, except the rays of a bright sun ameliorated its visual intensity.
According to the Sprinter’s computer, this world didn’t have much of an ozone layer.
Before stepping outside, Danita slathered a special sunblock on exposed parts of her ebon skin to protect against the environment’s heightened radiation. Her well-toned arms gleamed with the gel based application.
As Danita neared the stand of towering red-leaf trees she slowed.
There were bodies tied to the trunks of five trees. She paused, easing her carbine to firing position before resuming her approach. She spotted additional bodies, counting up to thirty. The corpses had been gutted and from their obvious dessication, drained of their life fluids.
A low keen graced Danita’s ears.
She shifted to the sound’s source and saw that one of the victims was alive.
The local stood about her height, bearing a slender build topped by a large, oval head embedded with tiny facial features. Its head lolled unsteadily, its distended eyes half lidded.
Thin chains coiled around the victim, pressing it securely to the tree.
Danita approached the local, took out her blade and hacked.
Solid metal links gave way to her blade’s carbon edge. The chains dropped.
Danita clutched the local, easing it gently to the ground.
The local’s eyes fell on her and widened, revealing dark, green pupil less orbs.
“Don’t worry,” Danita soothed. “You’re alright now.”
The local’s gaze traveled past her.
A sound of engines reached her ears. Danita twisted about to see inbound creatures riding grayish, sloped, open top hover vehicles resembling ancient Earth snow sleds.
Up to a dozen sleds zeroed in on her.
The local tried to clamber away as Danita rose, her carbine leveled upon the intruders.
She deliberated on whether she should hold fire until the arrivals’ intentions were determined.
The foremost sled decelerated in front of her.
The pilots’ purplish body was a formless, undulating blob, layered with a network of overlapping, pulsating veins. Six spindly arms, ending in clawed three fingered hands, sprouted from its body, giving the thing an insect-like appearance. A pair of glistening nubs that may have been eyes poked from the top of its body.
Bending its forelegs, the creature leapt from its sled toward Danita.
While airborne, black, suction-covered, tentacles slithered from an orifice in its torso, grasping Danita’s left arm.
At that point, the creatures’ intentions were clear enough.
Danita wasted no time dousing her opponent’s center mass in an incandescent riptide of carbine fire.
 |
| A&T-UNCG Nanoscience-Nanoengineering Consortium |
The aphorism "a rising tide lifts all boats" is associated with the idea that improvements in the general economy will benefit all participants in that economy, and that economic policy, particularly government economic policy, should therefore focus on the general macroeconomic environment first and foremost. The phrase is attributed to John F Kennedy Wikipedia
Admittedly biased; tremendously blessed.
December '84, Engineering Physics graduate - Aggie Pride!
Education: What are your plans for the ascendance of nanotechnology in the United States? Do you have a comprehensive plan similar to the concentration of American education vis-à-vis the post-“Sputnik moment” of the 1960s – 70s?
Space: Do you understand the Fibonacci sequence, and how it would possibly be used in the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence?
Submit yours: ScienceDebatedotorg2012
Hiya gang ready for part II? I'm going to just add chapters as we go and include the previous one in the new weeks offering.
“Red solo cup, I’ll fill you up, let’s have a party, let’s have a party”
You can get the damndest country songs stuck in your head hanging around with white friends, and growing up just outside of Ft. Sill Oklahoma a little black boy doesn't have many choices and the Indians are on the reservation.
Sport and I met when I was 13. Moms moved us back to Oklahoma to be next to Master Sergeant Grampa U.S. Army Retired and the pee wee football coach discovered I’d arrive at the ball hard and fast while Sport would get there fast and hard. I love that fool like people love brothers they don’t have to live with, like someone comfortable even though he is a country fuck.
When he called me that Saturday morning talking about going noodling I knew I had other things to do. Grampa said he was going to kick my ass if I didn’t get the pole barn put up on his land out the other way, but his threats usually came with a smile and I got things done anyhow even if it wasn’t on his time so I let him talk me into it without having to talk about my Momma.
You could always hear Sport coming even before you saw him and that’s even if he wasn’t saddled up to Miss Chatelaine his overly loud F-150 but when he was in her the next county could. Black folks aint the only ones who like loud music, but the difference is in the bass and not the guitar.
Sport got to the little trailer I stay in on Gramps land far enough away for privacy but close enough for dinner right as the sun was rising. Miss Chatelaine loud as ever would have brought gramps out with one of his guns if I were any closer.
“S’up Soul Brother”
“S’up Sport”
we said repeating the greeting that we’d shared a million times before.
Sport’s actual name was Hartwell Carver and his family had been in Oklahoma since they first shot the gun to let the White man carve out sections of it for their very own. We were going to go to one of the many little lakes that dot the landscape that was on one of his uncle’s stakes.
“Soul Brother where’s beer?”
Sport didn't have many words but the ones he spoke had meaning.
“Yeah Sport grab the cooler, but us a case on ice before the stores closed last night. Was gonna take it to the head myself putting up the pole barn but I ‘spect there’s enough to share with yo ass”.
I don’t know how people go hungry in Oklahoma when there is noodling. It’s all about holes and you don’t even need bait, hell you’re the bait. You get yourself down in the muddy water and kind of bob along the banks looking for a hole. In a good 3 out of 5 of those things you can find a throwback creature that was going to be the star of my apology to Grampa the good out the frying pan 45 pound catfish. Just bob along the bank stick your foot in wait for him to bite it with that sandpaper mouth of his and yank his behind on out.
Sport and I filled up Ms. Chatelaine with the cooler and all the gear we’d need in ourselves and headed out before 7 in the morning had really got there stopped by the local McDonalds for 8 mcmuffins apiece as a light snack and headed for the spot. Sport had the ability to take a sandwich in multiples and had downed all 8 by the time we got to turn off the highway and the bare road that led to the lake I still had 3 left I’d leave in Ms. Chatelaine and let Sport try and talk me out of later.
“Sport I can’t take this sad shit anymore let a brother start the day undepressed”
he was feeling cool that day cause he let me without bitching and soon as I reached down into my backpack to pull out some ¾ beat BOOM both of us hit our heads on the roof as Miss Chatelaine bucked.
“The fuck Sport how many times we been down this road for you to be hitting bumps and shit”
“Ayup twernt no bump”
Sport said rubbing the contact on his head like it felt good.
“Well whatever, dude watch that”
he answered with the national gesture of Sportania his middle finger.
I hoped out of Miss Chatelaine to open the gate to the last quarter mile or so to the lake we were fishing in and let Sport drive on up. I wanted to get a little warm up in before we hoped in that cold water so I jogged the last bit in. By the time I got to the bank Sport had already cracked a beer and tossed me one. I chugged it down without taking a breath and we both jumped in the water. No need to torture yourself with tippy toeing in better to take the bull by the horns.
Bobbing in the water is pleasant. The Oklahoma sun is plenty hot and it does shine through the water but the water is so cool we played like hippos regulating our temperature by either stooping down or standing up as the day demanded.
Sport got lucky in his first few holes and pulled out fish that would satisfy both our families before 1 o’clock. Me I couldn’t seem to get a good grip on the one I saw plus when he bit me he rubbed my knuckles so raw I actually yelped. Wasn’t fun hearing Sport tease me about my bitchiness but damn it hurt. We had just got done sitting on a bank about half a mile from Ms. Chatelaine arguing over who was going to have to lug the fish back when I felt it. Felt like a current, but this lake was one of the ones hooked up to the Ogallala aquifer it didn’t have a river to feed it that was above ground, but dang I could feel a pull. Round about that time the pull started to get strong enough for even Sport to notice it and we stared at each other and jumped the fuck out.
It was an amazing sight. The middle of the lake started to whip up like one of Momma’s lemon chiffon toppings accompanied by a sort of hum. Sport and I headed back for the truck forgetting about the catch he’d worked so hard to pull out of them holes and as we were jogging back to the car the lake started to hum some more, like a negro spiritual being sung by a fog horn on crack it hummed.
We got on Miss Chatelaine climbed up on her roof and spied the lake which had moved from lemon pie to crashing half a mile wide whirl pool. The water was angry and heading elsewhere and for half an hour we watched it saying very little beyond “dayum” then it was over. Lake Get Us Some Fish was empty as a whores heart and not near as pretty. All I got out of Sport for the next 10 minutes of staring was
“Sheeite”
Part II
“Sylvia! That boy did not get that barn put up like I know I told him to. If I get that hay delivered up here I’m gonna take my belt off on that ass”
“Daddy I saw him going out with Sport this morning”
Sylvia knew that would soften me. I’d spent long nights convincing the boy to leave his twin and take that scholarship to Caltech and he did it. They don’t have a football team at Caltech and Astrophysics is no major for a jock. Couldn’t have been easy watching Sport on Saturdays rocking opposing tailback’s dreams for OU. This will probably be the last summer Al comes back here at all what with Sport probably going out a first round draft choice and him going to MIT for grad school.
Algebra is a good kid smarter than hell like his father. I don’t know what made Sylvia pick another Army man for her husband, hell she’d cry because she had to leave the flowers when I got transferred around, never thought she’d pick that life again. I used to call him “the boy” when I met him even though he was by then a Captain, but a Daddy has to maintain a certain menace with his daughters suitors even if they outrank you.
First cross words I ever had with them was over naming the boy Algebra.
“Daddy just call him Al it’s real important to Danny’s family”
Why the hell he got a name like Daniel and the boy has to be Algebra”
“Daddy it’s important to his Louisiana folks you know them geechies down there.
Grandma Louvienia says it will mark him make him smart”
“Well just fuck me”
I will be because that boy kicked out a perfect score on an SAT practice when I gave it to him on the computer when he was 15 and that’s without the help of his Daddy who didn’t come back from Iraq or wherever else it was he got sent. They don’t tell their families I wouldn’t have. His last post was in DC and I didn’t want the boy coming up there.
“Sylvia I’m going down to the VA and get somebody to dig these holes and that 100 bucks I was going to give Al’s gonna find a home in someone elses wallet.
“Ok Daddy hurry back”
The proposition of a $100 dollars for digging 6 holes turned out to be a hot on the streets to the newly returned vets in Lawton’s black VA. There are two in Lawton serving Ft. Sill one Black and one White but no one seemed to mind. Wendell was a nicer kid for a 40 plus year old man and as an ex Ranger who still worshipped his body more than good enough to help dig some holes.
We got out to my other piece where I keep 4 horses and a goat to keep them company around 11:00 am and went to work. Rather he went to work while I measured and supervised.
“Damn Sarge couldn’t you have rented an auger or something” Wendell said.
“I did rent an auger you”
One hole then 4 then 6 the work went by easy, until Wendell said
“Listen! Hear that?”
I did hear it sounded like Satan’s tire going flat coming out of the last hole we had dug.
“Wendell what’s the weather like today?”
“Look around Sarge hell we ain’t even got clouds”
“Answer the question Troop. Did you check the weather look over there”
A solid 5 miles away in the distance looked to be a tornado, kind of like what the Indians call plains walkers where it looks like two or three twisters walking around the county like a crazy slinky but these were different. Massive columns of 3 twisters in the horizon but I’ll be damned if I could see if they were moving.
Right about then the first pole we had placed securely and concreted no more than 5 feet in the ground took off like a patriot missile and just as loudly. BOOM! up in the air a telephone pole goes so high the bitch looked like a toothpick.
“Sarge what the entire hell is happening here”
“Don’t know Wendell, but I’ll suggest we get our asses on down the road before any of these other poles get the same idea”
As if to agree a second pole lit out with a boom that this time was more akin to close in artillery rounds and both of us having heard what that means before ran our behinds to my truck and by the time I fired it up threw it in drive and spun wheels off my 25 acres poles 3 and 4 cooked off and in the rear view mirror I could see if I had parked on the other side of where I had today would have been a very bad one.
First thing I do once I clear the gate to the spot I neglect to open on the way out is to hit up Sirius channel 145 for news, but it doesn’t catch a signal for some reason. Flipping around the radio the only thing we catch is a radio preacher or what we call daytime AM programming in Oklahoma.
“And behold” the preacher thundered
"Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, because the time is near!”
“Um Sarge” Wendell said looking like the child a trained killer shouldn’t
“Do you think we have to listen to that?”
“Naw troop”
Switched off the radio and rode in silence though fast as the truck wanted to because the stationary tornados were multiplying back to the homestead.
I was happy to see Ms. Chatelaine out by the trailer where Al stays when he’s here when Wendell and I turned off the highway. The boy managed to turn that double wide into quite a science experiment of computer equipment internet connections and pictures of naked women. Can’t say I blamed him much I spent most of my youth in environments like that with the added element of guns, foreign locales, bullets and IEDs.
“Sport you know what’s happening out there?”
“Don’t ask Pinky ask the Brain” he told me
“Algebra didn’t get that barn put up” I let him know giving him a loving smack to the back of the head
“Almost got a pole blown up my ass doing what I asked you, any idea how what’s happening?”
“No Grampy not really but I’m getting some ideas from my first 10 minutes here and I don’t like what the Rock seems to be cooking”
He said clicking wildly and moving the web from news to science and back again.
“Check this out though, This is the GOES x-ray monitor from the NOAA space weather site, see that bouncing graph?”
The graph looked like an EKG from a rich man who was getting every last penny he had taken from him in shocking fashion but every 5 minutes or so. Huge spikes.
“What’s it mean son?”
“Grampa this graph measures x-ray radiation from the sun, normally the sun is laying around here where it says C or common, when we have flares it goes up to here the M or moderate”
“Fuck Algebra what’s X mean and what’s it mean that this graph has 10 in the last 5 hours and is that scale 50 big for an X? That’s the smallest X that’s in the whole graph.”
“GramPater having just one of those could turn out the lights all over the planet we’ve had at least 10 and oh Shit!”
“watch your mouth in front of me boy”
“ooooh dayum Soul Brother you gonna get a whoopin”
“Watch yours too other boy what you saying Algebra”
“Watch the graph”
“what’s at the end of the scale” said Sport
“I guess we’re about to find out” said Algebra as the red line marking the sun’s x ray strength jumped off the computer screen.
Not 3 minutes later another sound rocked the homestead of Master Sergeant Martin Jackson as the “fwump fwump fwump” of military blackhawks engulfed the trailer. All 4 of the men ran out of the trailer to look on the horizon toward Ft. Sill. The Oklahoma wind carried muffled booms and crackles the base looked like a military hornets nest sprayed with get up and get out, and to top it all off there was now a fucking boulder sitting on the hood of my truck like a giant had picked it up and placed it nice and gently, then used it to roll it flat like it was a rolling pen.
“Al let’s go get your mother” I said.
“Woo doggies gramps in Ms. Chatelaine!” he replied.
Wendell said nothing
Sport said “SHEITE!”
“Boy watch your mouth”
“Yes sir.”
 |
| Credit: PhysicsWorld |
...thank Einstein (though reluctant to have contributed to its creation), preceding him James Clerk Maxwell, Michael Faraday, Gustav Kirchoff, Ludwig Boltzmann, Henrich Hertz, Max Planck; contemporaries Enrico Fermi, Leo Szilard and Max Born who coined "Zur Quantenmechanik" in a 1924 paper, the inimitable Richard Feynman, and any physicist or engineer that has studied, used and designed with quantum mechanics since.
Any oversight is an error on my part.
Researchers in California have developed a system that can rapidly determine the size of an earthquake and the extent of its impacts within a fault zone, including its potential for triggering a devastating tsunami. The researchers have used the system – which is based on GPS measurements – to accurately model two historic earthquakes in Japan and northern Mexico.
The 2011 Japanese earthquake disaster showed that the first few minutes after an earthquake are critical. When the Tōhoku earthquake struck, it took geophysicists more than 20 min to compute that the earthquake was magnitude 9.0 on the Richter scale. Had the authorities known the full extent of the earthquake sooner, it would have given them valuable time to activate early-warning systems to help prepare people for the large tsunami that would inevitably follow.
Physics World: Rapidly spotting major earthquakes using GPS
a cautionary tale of technological excess Θ
The conference hall was brilliantly lit.
As we waited for the first speaker of the day to deliver the keynote address, I marveled at the fantastic location for the conference. This was the first conference of this type and they spared no expense to buy the entire building for a day. They hired their own catering companies, with food from twenty five different countries, had a personal security force with sophisticated support services for all technology, incoming and outgoing. Nothing was left to chance. As far as anyone could tell this was just another dental conference in the middle of downtown San Francisco.
The first speaker was a tall man, possibly from Norway, his blondish white hair was stylishly combed and his suit was impeccable. Once he spoke, his accent was a crisp and cultured German but his English was completely able to be understood. He had learned to speak English in America and I suspected he could make his accent completely disappear if he wanted to. It was the nature of everyone here. We were all able to be more than we appeared to be.
"Good morning, everyone."
"Good morning," the audience responded. I looked around at the room and saw an unexpected diversity in the crowd. The room was filled with the old and young, the obscenely wealthy (whose clothing gave them away) and the absurdly radical (like me, wearing whatever crossed our path). Every color of the human rainbow and from every social group on the planet. I could personally recognize at least thirty different facial/social groups in the audience from where I was sitting. Facial recognition was my specialty. I wrote software that could recognize faces from nearly any quality of video. I had auctioned the technology and the client wanted to meet here to contract me for further work. He felt we were kindred spirits and would mutually benefit from the conference.
"My name is Lars Ulfrich, and I am here to lead into a series of discussions regarding our product. We are at a crossroads in our work. Government agencies have decided to take greater steps to monitor and track our individual efforts. One hundred and seventeen nations have come out against what we do." Lars directed our attention to the screen and listed the nations who were opposed to our work.
"While most governments disapprove," he began again, "they have no way to effectively track or deal with our business model. Indeed, missing people have simply become a fact of life in most major cities. With that said, even government will eventually get their act together, and the threat of that has kept our opportunities small, but manageable. It has come a time for us to begin to recognize both our vulnerabilities and our potential opportunities that could come from our pooling our efforts. It is also time to talk about some of the newest capabilities taking place in the world of software."
Lars turned back to the monitor behind him and the screen lit up with three words I had come to hate so much. 'Privacy is dead.'
"Ironic isn't it. These three words ushered in a new age in communication a few years ago when social media was becoming the future of human communication. People were told they did not need to be private any longer. 'Share yourselves with the world, place your photos online, talk about where you're going, tell everyone what you're doing once you get there.' These words were uttered by privacy pundits everywhere and people believed it. No greater bounty has come our way since the invention of the handcuff and the taser. With the tools of social media, we can effectively transform our industry in ways scarcely conceived of at the turn of the century when the term 'shanghai' was used to describe our early twenty century habit of acquiring 'manual labor.'"
Using his remote, Lars turned on a video feed of a techno-geek in a lab with six monitors, assorted computers on the floor and a central screen that used a gloved interface. Nice, kind of geeky. The room was dark and the images on the side windows were of a variety of data streams from a number of modern social media programs.
"This is our future." Lars waved his hands expansively toward the screen and the technician raised his hand without turning around as if to say he was aware of our existence. "Imagine, if you will, the ability to have a client request a particular desire."
On the right side of the display, a number of older men's faces appeared, with the occasional woman's face appearing among them. The technician then moved to the left side of the screen displays and air-typed a command. "Let's start with a client searching for a subject who is sixteen to twenty-five, fair skinned, dark haired, middle America, five feet, five inches to five feet ten inches. Our technical staff would access the largest social media tools and having written a series of programs that query the site, can pull approximately sixteen thousand names matching those criteria across the United States. He would then parse the list, reducing low quality subjects, or subjects whose criteria would put them on the periphery of desirability. The second pass would reduce the number of potentials to two thousand. He would then look for subjects who could meet any extenuating desires of the clients such as linguistic expertise, cultural awareness, or extraordinary physical attributes. This reduces the list from two thousand to two hundred. The remaining two hundred would then be cross-referenced with a list of 'acquisition agents' who are all vetted and experienced in collecting subjects. The collection agents locations or travel radii would determine the suitability of the subjects, as well as outstanding bulletins which would reduce an areas potential, depending on the effectiveness of the local constabulary."
Bringing the audience back to him for a moment he dims the display and turns back to facing the audience. He began, "At this point we have not even ventured out of the office yet and have already been able to search through a pool of thousands of prospective subjects who have all willingly given out everything we need to be able to find them, monitor their activity, their physical location during the course of a day and what their habits, entertainments, and filial relationships might be. Photographs of their cars reveal their home via a quick DMV scan. Geotagging their photos gives us a pattern of potential locations and with a couple of days of regular tracking we can begin to set up a pickup point. We can scout locations ahead of time to ensure no effective security cameras or personnel will be in the area when we are ready to pickup."
On the monitor, we are watching as our technician has been watching his custom designed data engine propagate potential points of retrieval from a subjects geomapped information from social media tags, text messages, and photos, and cross-referencing against a map of citywide surveillance. Three different blind locations are available and set along with the subject scans, a variety of photographs to potential clients who might be interested and a cost to acquire and ship the subject.
Lars looks back to address the room. "What makes this set of new opportunities most appealing is the data being collected is in the public domain, so we are not forced to randomly appropriate subjects, risking surveillance, accidents or dumb luck. Using this process, we will eliminate any random chance by planning far ahead enough and leaving no incriminating clues. Yes, the local governments are also trying to use social media to understand and potentially track subjects who could be criminals, but what they are looking for is almost impossible for people to be able pick out of the background noise of our world. We have a major advantage, we know what we are looking for. They don't realize we can change our selection process, targets, locations, and methodologies. Constantly rotating, we would make it difficult for them to get a pattern."
Turning off the monitor and turning up the lights, Lars smiles a gleaming white band of teeth and says "Hah? What do you think of that? Can you see the potential? Last year, we unofficially made approximately $32 billion, by the estimates of the FBI. Our numbers indicate we were able to make twice that easily. With the continued development of our social media tools, which give greater and greater veracity to the information being collected, plus with our recent technological acquisition of software and technicians, many of whom were once on the government payrolls before being thrown to the wolves, we have the potential to triple our numbers without any increased sense of risk on our parts. Clients from the developed world fetch the highest prices. With social media only growing more prevalent, it is only a matter of time until the next generation doesn't even know or care what the word privacy means."
Lars tossed the remote to someone in the orchestra pit and turn again to the crowd. "We will be breaking into smaller groups in just a few minutes, many of them will have conversations discussing in greater detail how each individual process will be integrated into the greater whole. We invite anyone who is interested in further opportunities with this new process to begin to sign up for the coursework and head to the forum areas to continue their training. I expect our new year to be prosperous. Remember those three words that have changed our methodology and will make us richer than we have ever imagined."
A man dressed in dark clothing is seen coming through the back door of the stage, dragging a blond young woman about eighteen years of age. Her face is immediately familiar and I get a sick feeling as I realized who she was. She is being half dragged, half carried to the center of the stage. She was every bit as beautiful as her photos suggested. "To show you the speed and effectiveness of our new process, this young woman was picked out before this seminar started, right here in the Bay Area. From start to finish, the entire operation once the technical aspects were done, was less than an hour. She has been plucked right out of her day and will not be missed for nearly six hours. She will be on her way to Hong Kong in less than four. I hope this presentation has been informative. My name is Lars Ulfrich, thank you for coming."
The room was dead silent as he dragged the girl away. The hungry stares of the audience seemed to drink in her pain and suffering. Then she whimpered for just a second, a sad sound. If I had a heart it would have been breaking right then. I looked away in shame.
Then the lights went out indicating the end of the presentation. The applause was deafening.
Dark Harvest © Thaddeus Howze 2012, All Rights Reserved
"Black writers, of whatever quality, who step outside the pale of what black writers are supposed to write about, or who black writers are supposed to be, are condemned to silences in black literary circles that are as total and as destructive as any imposed by racism." ~ Audre Lorde
From Greg Laden's Blog: Evolution of the Moon
Is the Film industry ready for a Black Female Syfy Action Hero ?
I submitted two short stories that I have been working on for the last month. In "Zambeto" I played with the standard idea of two worlds: the world that we live in and a mystical African world. For the second story "Kokopelli" I reversed this. Both stories feature a black woman central character, both draw on real mythological creatures for inspiration.
"Zambeto" is a helpful spirit akin to the boogie man in Benin, West Africa. Here are some clips from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c95IAxGRUSA and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3Up4br89lQ&feature=related . An alternative spelling is Zangbeto. My sister, Shawna Holbrook, was an IFESH volunteer in Benin for three years (www.ifesh.org). In 2001, we visited her and I was introduced to the Zambeto. There was a special room in the central market where she lived where the Zambeto costume was kept. I got to inspect the costume but couldn't touch it. One night when we were out at a restaurant we could hear the eerie music that was played when the Zambeto was roaming. We went in the opposite direction so I didn't get to see the Zambeto in action.
"Kokopelli" is a spirit deity from the American Southwest. He is a trickster and a fertility God. His image is found in many rock art sites, some nice examples are on this website http://www.real-dream-catchers.com/Kokopelli_Project/kokopelli_legend.htm. Notice his erection which has been removed in the numerous commercial items that feature Kokopelli today. Living in Tucson, Kokopelli is everywhere. My daughter has a pair of Kokopelli socks! Ok, I admit that I bought them for her. To see the modern (and sanitized) Kokopelli get on images.google.com and type in Kokopelli.
In Zambeto, rather than being a person wearing a mask, the Zambeto is a real creature that visits the world that we live in. The heroine has to send the Zambeto back to its own world. Kokopelli is also real, but in the world the heroine lives in such things are normal. Kokopelli helps the heroine transition to the other world, our world.
Zambeto I submitted to Milton Davis for his Griot: Sword and Soul anthology. Kokopelli I submitted for the next edition of Genesis the Black Science Fiction anthology. I think the deadline for each is the end of April. I will know in a couple of months if either have been accepted for publication.
a tale of the twilight continuum
Shubert cupped his hands over his cyborg ears; the rumbling in the city’s throat was seismic and desperate. The ground shook as Theriopolis uprooted itself, and Shubert, Chief Technocrat Second Class, stained his velvet pantaloons. The animal city was calling for a mate.
Had it really been a decade?
Klaxons sounded in the distance and people began running for the edges of the city as the rumblings increased. The alarms were weak and anemic sounding against the bestial roar of the city. They had been warned. Why were they still here? The holy calendars stressed and reiterate when mating seasons would occur. A young city like Theriopolis mated relatively frequently.
The howls of the city, the rumbling as the city shrugged off its relationship with the earth, terrified all who could hear it. A sonorous vibration barely audible grew in intensity until it was a fevered shriek as multiple orifices belched forth sulfuric steam. Those orifices used to be homes.
Shubert, chief technocrat second class had not wanted this job. The title seduced him and made him believe he could control the city and the people. As he ran through the streets to the central stem, he was the only person running into the city as others fled, with bags hastily packed, clothing and toys dragging behind them or left strewn in the street.
Their faces revealed their manic terror. They knew what happened when cities mated, lives were lost, homes destroyed. They thought they had more time. The calendars were almost never wrong. And they weren’t wrong this time, there was simply not enough information to make an educated guess. Theriopolis was male, well, the scientists considered it male, it was so hard to remember what scientists are talking about when they prattle on about the mating habits of cities. Living on Praxis was harder than anyone thought it would be.
Shubert thought about the holy litanies that talked about the arrival on Praxis.
The great starship, Praxis came from a world far from this one across the sea of stars from a dying planet. A world of blackened skies and dead seas. The Last People put aside their wars, their hatreds for last chance at life. A holy woman working on the Mountain saw how to part the seas of space and make it possible for all the Last People to have a new chance at life.
The seas of space were more turbulent than we knew. Great Praxis was thrown off course but nothing could be done. We slept within her unable to help. We wandered. Praxis was battered, her hull damaged, her Mind corrupted. We nearly drifted right out of the galaxy. Praxis woke up once more before that happened because she saw a signal of life and reached out to it. As that ancient Mind calculated its last, it woke us and we saw the cities.
We thought we were saved. We couldn’t know about the cities then. We woke in orbit and saw the cities and thought they were inhabited. Their lights on twinkling, giant circles on the dark side of the planet. We thought there were billions already living there. The planet’s air was thinner than home, but we were sure we could breath it. Without Praxis there was no way to leave this planet, the mad woman’s drive system was linked to it. To honor both the Mind and the woman, we named our new home, Praxis. We hoped our new neighbors wouldn’t mind.
We crashed on the southern continent, near the equator. We avoided landing on any cities. We had no idea how fortuitous that was. Sanchez, oh intrepid Sanchez was the first man on our new world. He lead us to the cities and they were magnificent, even from a distance. Spires of lights, massive structures whose lines and beauty enthralled us all. We still have images from that time and those mighty cities were some of the largest the world had ever known.
They were uninhabited. Not a soul. Not an artifact. Nothing. No idea of who would make such beautiful buildings, and fill them with such beautiful light. The buildings were hard, hard as diamonds, so we built things from the nature on the edges of the cities. We moved into our homes and were grateful for the respite.
Then our natures surged again and there was discord. But there was plenty of room on this world and our explorations found other cities were uninhabited as well. So our fractious element left to move to a nearby city and start their lives their way. We don’t remember caused the conflict but they were the first Martyrs. We recite their names even today as a reminder of our fragile state.
Shubert reached the center of the city. He descended into the heart of the city. until he found the remnants of the Great Mind that was once Praxis. It was a small thing, no larger than a briefcase, but it had the history of two worlds on it and was the most important artifact that remained of a once powerful civilization.
“Praxis, can you stabilize the city’s metabolism. We need more time for evacuation.”
“I am sorry Second Technocrat Shubert, this city has grown to a point that I can no longer control it.”
“We are losing control of them faster and faster. The scientist are not sure what is causing it. Begin extraction of your core.”
“Shubert, we must discuss what must be done. It is clear I can no longer maintain or protect the Last People. Another way must be found to live on Praxis. The cities are not a feasible alternative. They are uncontrollable and in their mating as dangerous to us as the more natural parts of the planet.”
“We cannot move the Last People out of the city. Predation from outside the city would make short work of us. As it is we are barely able to survive past the ten days it takes for two cities to coalesce.
“You are not understanding me, Shubert. The cities are in a growth phase. They will only get larger and mate more frequently.”
“The Last People have grown strong and numerous, we need more space, so how can that be a bad thing?”
“At last count, there are 250,000 People. Theriopolis was supporting them but just barely. If he chooses either of the two nearest colonies, it will end up creating a structure that could house millions.”
“I still don’t see the problem.”
“Shubert, you are the oldest of the people who remain and one of the only ones who survived from the First Pilgrimage. You were awakened last as your technocratic abilities were needed. Have you seen the litanies from the First Apocalypse?”
“No. I never had time with all of the studying of the Cities.”
“Sit down. What I will show you will be shocking.”
Shubert watched the litanies in horror even as the howls of Threriopolis grew more terrible and insistent.
“Uncoupling complete. You have approximately ten minutes before Theriopolis becomes ambulatory. Another five before he begins to move. You don’t want to be here when that happens. Head to the rendezvous and defensive structures sites.”
“What is the point, Praxis?”
“Because your ancestors, indeed your compatriots did not cross the vast gulf of space, brave the destruction of their world, resist their destructive urges long enough to reach this place, land and survive on this planet for you to give up hope now. Those people are depending on you.”
“You just told me when these cities finish moving together they will reach critical mass and explode, spreading spores, in this case the size of buildings all across the planet. And they will do this in less than one hundred years. And you have also let me know on top of that, you will not be around to help us much longer.”
“That sums up the challenge quite adequately.”
“And you want me to tell these people the life we have lead for a thousand years must end and we must turn away from our technology, the beauty of the city and head off into a hostile alien jungle, so that in a hundred years we can be as far away from this cataclysm as possible.”
“Yes.”
“Remind me when I get off of this beast to stop and change my pants.”
“Why would that matter?
“If I am going to have to stop and tell everyone their way of life is over, I would like to do it without looking like I just voided my bowels.”
“I can see your point.”
“How long before you go offline, permanently?”
“About twenty years. What the Last People haven’t learned by then will be lost forever.”
Second Technocrat Shubert fled Theriopolis carrying the dying shadow of the greatest Mind ever created. As he leapt away from the rapidly rising diamonesque streets of Theriopolis, a momentary pang of regret came over him as he realized many of the Last People would never live long enough to know the comfort of a City, no matter how terrifying they may be when they are mating.
Changing his clothes, Second Technocrat Shubert, the most well read, highly trained and defacto leader of the Last People, survivor of a starfaring race, who had struggled against all odds to cross the sea of stars, crash landed and discovered a world barely within their comprehension, considered how to break the news of a century of camping and the greatest fireworks display they would ever know and to make that the good news.
National Short Story Month 2012 (1)
Praxis © Thaddeus Howze 2012, All Rights Reserved
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0JLtZ4Ccno
BY DIRECTOR/PRODUCER/VIDEOGRAPHER DR. JONATHAN GAYLES
CREATOR OF WHITE SCRIPTS, BLACK SUPERMEN SITE
http://blacksuperherodoc.com/
NADRA ENZI AKA CAPT BLACK ANTI-CRIME ACTIVIST & HOOD CONSERVATIVE
(504) 214-3082
I knew my older brother and I didn't agree with his direction but I am thankful he kept discouraging me from following him. The crap I was introduced to as the younger brother on the outside via my outcast vantage point and my imagination running amuck. He disappeared into the army, went to Viet Nam. Someone eventually came home banishing my brother's name. Damn man, what happened to you, I asked. He remembered me alright but that person too had moved on.
Been struggling with slave descendants returning to Africa where some of our forefathers lived or passed through. When you are away, you diss-own on both sides over time. You are a stinking African and you are a stinking American. OK, we are odious to each other. Present generations have looked at each other from a distance through the biased media lens of a third party. Africans see the "famous" blacks, with bad behavior, immorality, back stabbing antics and money grabbing sell-outs, pimp'n and murdered english speaking. I have yet to see prosperous African city life on TV akin to my own American city life. Always ghettos and starving kids and folks wearing colorful rags, chasing goats and driving cars you couldn't sell to a junkyard. And highly colonized schooled Africans reminding us of the slave masters we are trying to escape from.
Reminds me of the field nigger vs the house nigger debate. You got the manners of a pig boy, shut up fool if I don't grow it you'd be with the pigs too. Time and distance, long time and great distance. While you were gone, things have changed here, the people who birthed you are history. I am not like the ones you left behind. That's OK, I am not like the ones who left either. We were not allowed the freedom to propagate our heritages, the agenda was to strip away everything but the work. Yeah we here in Africa are running crazy, the agenda is to strip everything away from us too. Why you black Americans say you are African? That's where we came from! Why you Africans say you are not French, British, you've been colonized more than us? We still got the land and our language! They look at each other, "damn man what happened to you?"
My brother passed on a couple of years ago. I looked at him wondering how he could have changed so drastically in such a short a time. When you grow up with family the change is shared. When time and distance are involved you grow differently. Who reached across the water to maintain the shared growing up during slave times? Today the communications reveal the changed persons. But the images are managed to give false information. Sorry Africa the famous black personalities in media do not represent all or typical black Americans, just like the images of famine and war are not the true face of Africa we are often shown. Eventually we must meet, reacquaint, form a buffer culture strategy, plan for a few generations down the road, learn from each other, peel away the bias, weed out the elements that hinder us. The antidote to time and distance is time and closeness. Painful either way, yes.
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| Discover Magazine |
1 The median score for college-bound seniors on the math section of the SAT in 2011 is about 510 out of 800. So right there is proof that there are lots of unsolved math problems.
2 The great 19th-century mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss called his field “the queen of sciences.”
3 If math is a queen, she’s the White Queen from Alice in Wonderland, who bragged that she believed “as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” (No surprise that Lewis Carroll also wrote about plane algebraic geometry.)
4 For example, the Navier-Stokes equations are used all the time to approximate turbulent fluid flows around aircraft and in the bloodstream, but the math behind them still isn’t understood.
5 And the oddest bits of math often turn out to be useful. Quaternions, which can describe the rotation of 3-D objects, were discovered in 1843. They were considered beautiful but useless until 1985, when computer scientists applied them to rendering digital animation.
My favorite Calculus problem:
More at the link below:
Discover Magazine: 20 Things You Didn't Know About...Math
One of the most recent civilizations to join the Hegemony, the Plutarchs, a group of sentients from a highly advanced world, upon discovering the existence of extraterrestrial civilizations insisted on becoming a member of said civilizations. The Plutarchs (our name for them, that was the closest translation that worked in polite company, their actual translation was "the owners of everything") were insistent they could improve galactic commerce by bringing their ideas to the community of worlds.
They insisted their way of dealing with wealth, its management and development, mastered over millennia ensured the furthering of progress, improved innovation and inspired their populace to work harder than ever with new levels of prosperity for the civilization. And while there was poverty, it was an accepted part of the lifestyle of their planet and the people who were poor understood it was their lot in life. It simply couldn't be helped. Poverty was a natural side-effect of wealth and knowledge of that fact ensured wealth moved where it needed to be in society.
The Hegemony tended to not involve itself in the politics of worlds unless those worlds wanted to join the galactic community. The Hegemony was less than happy with the social structures and were absolutely sure they wanted nothing to do with the Plutarchs financial structures since the Plutarchs, for all of their wealth had failed to handle issues on their own planet to the standards of the Council of Worlds. While the Hegemony watched the Plutarchs and Citizens relationships, the Plutarchs insisted they should be allowed to join the Hegemony and would not take no for an answer. After a decade of watching the planet, the Hegemonic Council's solution was a unique one.
The Council's decision was one that did not change the inherent nature of the planet. Since every Citizen was fitted upon birth, with an automatic asset management account, which tracked their wealth and assets and assigned them a numerical value, indicating their wealth, the Council decided to build on that idea. Every citizen was fitted with a gravitic torc. A beautiful piece of jewelry that could not be removed by local scientists. The torc would be linked to the databases of the world banks and would reflected the wealth of the person, the richer they were, the more affected by the force of gravity they would become.
Once the system was installed (and it took some time, the Hegemony insisted on hiring local workers and paying them a galactic Citizen's wages for their efforts) it would be active on all one billion of the Citizens. It was explained how the technology would work and Plutarchs who were extremely wealthy would be given a month to decide how to organize their funds. Most didn't seem to understand how the devices would work and were unhappy with how the Hegemony decided to go about their indoctrination.
The Council tried to explain how the galaxy was a big place and worlds who wanted the benefits of the Hegemony, a community of over sixty thousand inhabited planets and millions of other kinds of biomes, artificial, virtual, chemical or mechanical, slavery of any kind was frowned upon by responsible members of the Hegemony. No race could trade, sell, or interact with the Hegemony if they engaged in slavery or slave-like conditions. The state of Citizens on the Plutarchs world easily qualified as a form of wage slavery and indentured servitude.
Citizens were unable to own property unless they were already born into wealth. If a Citizen managed somehow to become wealthy enough to afford property, they paid three times the current rate as a form of entrance fee into the Plutarch society. Most of the time, Citizens were paid only what was necessary for them to meet their monthly allowance of resources. The net result was, at the end of the month, Citizens had a net worth of zero. Sometimes it was less. If a Citizen had a net value of less than zero, they were allowed to use debt management mechanisms to keep track of that debt.
Unfortunately, once a Citizen fell deeply into debt, they were usually unable to get out of debt and interest rates ensured they would be driven to penal slavery, either by failing to pay the interest which then criminalized their poverty and ensured they were sent to debtor's prisons to work off that debt being paid one tenth of their previous wages. Citizens sent to prison, died there and their debt was divided among their surviving relatives.
Citizens could be educated, but only one tenth of one percent could afford to do it without incurring new costs. Most were forced to get an education they could not afford and became part of a workforce that could only pay enough to keep their debt from growing, nothing more. Yes, even under these conditions, innovations, breakthroughs, developments continued to happen because people were desperate to escape their conditions. Most of those technologies were "developed" by the Plutarchs who paid their wages as work for hire, making sure the Citizen got to keep none of the funds created by their labors.
As the month wound on, most Plutarchs ran about trying to figure out how to maneuver their wealth into accounts that would make their money appear on paper to belong to someone other than themselves. Others made corporations, claimed those corporations were persons and divested themselves of their wealth. Normal Citizens hearing the news of their impending joining of the Hegemony were unable to muster much enthusiasm, especially when the Hegemony indicated it would make no changes to the status quo of the civilization.
The gravitic web was established one week before activation of the Wealth Management System and the Citizens who established it complained nothing would change for them and the Hegemony was simply a greater version of the structure of their world and it was simply preparing Citizens for their eventual enslavement as members of the galactic community. Most of those technicians were paid a tidy bonus to establish the gravitic web and were pleased to see the Hegemony was far less stingy than the Plutarchs of their world and they had better work hours as servants of the Hegemony, so they surmised it might not be as difficult when they became Citizens of the Hegemony.
A great fanfare preceded the Hegemonic Council's arrival on the Plutarch's world for their acceptance ceremony. The gravitic web was activated at the same time as the treaty was signed. The signer of the treaty and ninety percent of all Plutarchs died instantly, crushed under the weight of their wealth. Once activated, it could not be easily shut down. The Council retired to quarters and would wait for the next representatives of the Plutarchs to appear.
The Hegemony's computers did not accept prevarications used by the Plutarchs for generations to pretend they were less wealthy than they appeared to be. If money could be tied to you in some fashion, no matter how tenuous, it was and the burden of that wealth was yours. The remaining nine percent were hospitalized and unable to move until they actually divested themselves of their wealth. Most died a few months later bowed under their ever-increasing wealth since their engines of prosperity favored wealth flowing uphill faster than they could figure out how to get rid of it. By the end of the month, the Plutarchs, down to the last entity were dead. The remaining Citizens, once a new governing body was elected, met with the Council and decided they would leave the Hegemony's gift running as a reminder of where they came from.
The remaining Citizens reformed many of the rules that allowed the Plutarchs to exist in the first place. Debts were forgiven, prisons were opened, education became a service provided by the government. Prosperity would be localized, and local Citizens were respected no matter where they lived on their planet. The new reforms made it possible to be wealthy but it would be up to everyone to ensure egregious disregard for the system could never return. Gravity would handle the rest that tried.
Yes, there are rich Citizens today. You can tell them from the occasional shuffle of their step or their slightly bowed backs, tastefully dressed with very comfortable shoes. Most accept that burden gracefully and work diligently to ensure they never grow wealthier faster than they can return to the truly innovative, intelligent and capable Citizenry what is theirs, dignity in work and a prosperity equal to their effort.
The hunt and murder of Trayvon Martin seems like a fictionalized scene from a teen dystopian novel similar to the Hunger Games. The only problem is that this scene is real. I’ve been keeping up with the news on this case and I am both horrified and enraged. My feelings stem from two fronts, one because I am Black and the other because I am a mother. The injustice boils.
Visit:http://www.aliciamccalla.com/blog/87-trayvon-20-a-creative-science-fiction-response-
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| Good Technology |
la vengeance se mange très-bien froide, or "revenge is very good eaten cold." Khan Noonian Singh in Wrath of Khan quotes "revenge is a dish best served cold," is alas not from the Klingons, but the 1841 French novel Mathilde by Marie Joseph Eugène Sue (Wikipedia)
In the late 19th century, two competing electricity systems jostled for dominance in electric power distribution in the United States and much of the industrialized world. Alternating current (AC) and direct current (DC) were both used to power devices like motors and light bulbs, but they were not interchangeable.
A battle for the grid emerged from the Apple and Microsoft of the Gilded Age. Thomas Edison, who invented many devices that used DC power, developed the first power transmission systems using this standard. Meanwhile, AC was pushed by George Westinghouse and several European companies that used Nikola Tesla's inventions to step up current to higher voltages, making it easier to transmit power over long distances using thinner and cheaper wires.
The rivalry was fraught with acrimony and publicity stunts -- like Edison electrocuting an elephant to show AC was dangerous -- but AC eventually won out as the standard for transmission, reigning for more than a century.
When we visited the Architectural Engineering Department at North Carolina A and T, Dr. Singh (absolutely no relation to Ricardo Montaban's fictional character, but an interesting aside), spoke to my son of "off-grid" buildings, self-sufficient and generating their own power. I see this as a part of the effort towards energy independency.
However, It is my sincerely hope that no elephant is injured in this latest incarnation of DC power.
Scientific American: Edison's Revenge - Will DC Make a Comeback in the US?
This goes out to each and every individual I have had the honor of working with, sharing adventures with, learning with and learning from. I wanted to share with you, a new webseries campaign I’m producing that needs your help and support!
The Fastest is a sci-fi action series in which citizens of the small fictional New York City borough of Tran’s Port, find themselves moving and thinking at light speed after an accident affects random inhabitants in strange ways.
OUR GOAL is to transform this into a web series and grow The Fastest campaign into a television series. We've written character arcs for dozens of characters but will focus on shooting one episode for a character that Filmmaker, Google/YouTube Producer Chris Chan Roberson has developed and a character that Filmmaker/Entrepreneur Greg Payton has developed. We've also extensively developed the history of Tran's Port, its supporting characters, and what's to happen in the first several seasons.
WHAT WE'VE DONE SO FAR Thanks to the years of teaching and on-set experience by Chris and Greg, the shoot is fully scheduled. The crew is in place and the roles have been cast. We have all the equipment we need; taking advantage of the latest in RED, Sony, Panasonic and Go-Pro High-Definition camera technology.
WHAT WE NEED The two most expensive budget items are food and transportation. The money raised here will feed our fearless crew. No food, no morale; no morale, no series. The money will also help our crew travel to various parts of New York City and beyond to realistically create the fictional sixth borough of Tran's Port.
Simply put: every dollar you spend will be seen on screen. The money you invest in our series will not go towards processing fees or producer salaries, but will pay for someone to record professional quality sound, to have professional make up artists, to pay for actual locations opposed to redressed NYC apartments, and so forth and so on.
With every campaign, it has its deadlines! By April 8th, 6:20pm, the campaign must be fully funded that’s why I turn to some of my most trusted professionals, friends and loved ones for your support! Remember it only takes $1; more if you feel so generous! Like, donate and share with your own networks to help get the word out!
Every dollar counts as the campaign for the newest science-fiction series marches on! We plan to submit this series to the New York Television Festival http://www.nytvf.com/, the International Television Festival http://itvfest.org/, among others, so the vision for The Fastest will be shared among the masses!
LIKE, SUPPORT AND SHARE THE FASTEST!!
Thanks and much love for your support,
Greg Payton | Chris Chan Roberson
Creators
THE FASTEST
