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The Alien Ambassador: The Movie /Update #1

Dear Black Science Fiction Society, 

Heroes Like Me Entertainment is proud to announce the making of their first movie, The Alien Ambassador.

The movie is based on the creation of Christopher Love author of John Henry 2.0 and the publisher at Heroeslikeme.com, a website which publishes on a monthly basis short stores of superheroes like the The Mysterious Maestro, The Fiery Furnace, Buffalo Soldier and The Human Pearl.  

Heroes Like Me Entertainment is a small entertainment company looking to bring ethnic characters to the mainstream public and geekdom.   

A prequel novel called The Alien Ambassador:Sticks and Stone is available in paperback and kindle ebook to introduce the characters of The Alien Ambassador.  

Sales from the books and donations by Internet viewers will help fund the project.

The movie will be released in July 2014.

Presented is a teaser trailer for the movie.---Click Here.

All who support this project will receive special updates and bonus material as the movie progresses.  

FUll Synopsis
Mr Stone, a substitute science teacher, is reflecting on how he came to Earth hoping to stop Earth from being colonized by a warlike galactic armada. He has been trapped on Earth for over one hundred and fifty years. He has been waiting for Earth technology to become advance enough in order to adapt it to his alien technology. He has been working on a formula in order to make all tech work together. 

Enter Nathan Turner, a 13 year old, who always stays in trouble. He is sent to afterschool detention for fighting. There he meets Mr. Stone as he is assigned as a detention monitor. All of a sudden, a alien female blast her way into the classroom. She is an alien who is marooned on earth as well and she needs the Power Bolt that Mr. Stone possesses in order to leave Earth.

For Nathan's protection, Mr. Stone takes him to his planeterium. He remodeled it and made it his home away from home. It possesses all the alien technology that survived the crash. Nathan figures out the formula that will activate the Power Bolt and power an alien craft. There destination is beyond Pluto to an relay space station that is used as an homing beacon in order for the alien armada to find Earth. But the dangerous alien female and the defenses of the space station impede Mr. Stone and Nathan from destroying it. 

Nathan is forced to don the guise of The Alien Ambassador and use his new found alien super powers and the Power Bolt to destroy the space station and keep Earth from being discovered. 

But he learns that once he dons the guise of The Alien Ambassador, he is in an adventure of a lifetime.

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Perfectly Dope...

In this rendering, never-before-seen magnetic excitations ripple through a high-temperature superconductor, revealed for the first time by the Resonant Inelastic X-ray Scattering technique. By measuring the precise energy change of beams of incident x-rays (blue arrow) as they struck these quantum ripples and bounced off (red arrow), scientists discovered excitations present throughout the entire LSCO [lanthanum, strontium, copper, oxygen] phase diagram.

UPTON, NY—Intrinsic inefficiencies plague current systems for the generation and delivery of electricity, with significant energy lost in transit. High-temperature superconductors (HTS)—uniquely capable of transmitting electricity with zero loss when chilled to subzero temperatures—could revolutionize the planet's aging and imperfect energy infrastructure, but the remarkable materials remain fundamentally puzzling to physicists. To unlock the true potential of HTS technology, scientists must navigate a quantum-scale labyrinth and pin down the phenomenon's source.

 

Now, scientists at the U.S. Department of Energy's (DOE) Brookhaven National Laboratory and other collaborating institutions have discovered a surprising twist in the magnetic properties of HTS, challenging some of the leading theories. In a new study, published online in the journal Nature Materials on August 4, 2013, scientists found that unexpected magnetic excitations—quantum waves believed by many to regulate HTS—exist in both non-superconducting and superconducting materials.

 

"This is a major experimental clue about which magnetic excitations are important for high-temperature superconductivity," said Mark Dean, a physicist at Brookhaven Lab and lead author on the new paper. "Cutting-edge x-ray scattering techniques allowed us to see excitations in samples previously thought to be essentially non-magnetic."

 

LightSource.org:
Scientists Discover Hidden Magnetic Waves in High-Temperature Superconductors

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Friday...


This relates to a post that appeared on Friday's anniversary. A date we sadly didn't commemorate more broadly nor recollect its significance.

 

It was the second bombing on Nagasaki, some say since the Japanese were looking for a path to surrender, completely unnecessary. Possibly a sophomoric display of military might on our part.

 

It was the beginning of being raised on "duck and cover" drills (as IF that would save anyone!).

 

It was bomb shelters if you could afford them (suburbia for the most part), stockpiling supplies and perhaps the genesis of people waiting for doomsday rather than solving the problems that could lead to it.

 

It was the aftermath of the darker side of science: the ability to make academic advances, medical miracles, technological wonders and yet possess within ourselves the ability to commit mass global genocide by the slow moving train wreck of polluting the atmosphere and oceans, or the flash of thermonuclear brilliance followed by its inevitable winter.

 

It was once considered "scientific" to promote eugenics. A Nobel laureate in physics, William Shockley, and co-founder of the transistor, one of its staunchest advocates.

 

I am an advocate of all branches of society: art, history, literature, politics, religion, science, etcetera working together rather than pointing fingers, reciting talking points and placing blame on one another.

 

Or: we may soon discover the other reason the stars of SETI are silent, is the aliens eventually became their own entropy...

Today marks the 68th anniversary of the dropping of an atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Nagasaki. The bomb, named “Fat Man,” was the first plutonium bomb ever to be deployed, and followed the Aug. 6 dropping of the uranium bomb “Little Boy” on Hiroshima.

But even after 68 years, both the history of nuclear weapons and their future are still the subject of debate.

Speaking at the memorial ceremony in Nagasaki, Mayor Tomihisa Taue publicly condemned Japan’s government for failing to push nuclear disarmament. Mr. Taue spoke out against the administration of Prime Minister Shinzo Abe – who was present – for failing to sign a UN disarmament agreement in April, according to the Japan Daily Press. Taue said the refusal to sign meant Japan was “betraying the expectations of global society.”

Christian Science Monitor:
Nagasaki bombing: Remembering - and starting to forget - its legacy

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Physics and Politics...



Rep. Rush Holt, an astrophysicist, was managing a Princeton University lab trying to harness the power of nuclear fusion when he won a seat in Congress in 1998. He ousted the incumbent, in part, by attacking the Republican’s decision to sing a mock lullaby — “Twinkle, Twinkle, Kenneth Starr” — on the House floor in praise of the special prosecutor investigating President Bill Clinton.

Rush Holt Holt’s supporters display bumper stickers that read, “My congressman is a rocket ­scientist.”

* On himself:

"I've always been an unusual member of Congress, partly because of my background, partly because of my approach to problems, partly because of my philosophy of governing. … I have a real commitment to the basic principles of equality and liberty."

* On helping the poor:

"The idea that somehow we had to guard so strongly against misuse of food stamps that we will deny hungry children food is not just hardhearted, it's cruel. … We have to get beyond the mentality in Washington that says we're a poor nation. We are not. We are the wealthiest nation in the world. … We have to get beyond the idea that the role of government is to provide ever more privilege for the already fortunate.

* On climate change:

"This is an urgent problem. … Climate change has to be dealt with by removing our emphasis on fossil fuels. … We are ruining our planet and killing people by the millions. … How do we do it? We have to keep presenting the facts. Presenting the evidence. And confronting those who would deny the evidence until they would deny it no more.

North Jersey: Senate Candidate Holt a fusion of physics and politics
PBS: Congressman vs. the Machine: Rocket Scientist Rep. Rush Holt Bests Watson

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The Antithesis...

Standard Model (mathematical formulation): Wikipedia

...this contradicts my post here, but the nature of science is to do research and publish findings. The fact we have null and alternative hypothesis eventually leads to one or the other winning out; a synthesis (Hegelian dialectic), or "back to the drawing board." Keeps the physicists out of after hours bars...

A team of physicists from the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona (UAB) and the French CNRS have predicted deviations in the probability of one of the B meson decays that have been detected experimentally in the LHC accelerator at CERN. Confirmation of these results would be the first direct evidence of the existence of the 'new physics', a more fundamental theory than the current Standard Model.

The Standard Model, which has given the most complete explanation up to now of the universe, has gaps, and is unable to explain phenomena like dark matter or gravitational interaction between particles. Physicists are therefore seeking a more fundamental theory that they call "New Physics", but up to now there has been no direct proof of its existence, only indirect observation of dark matter, as deduced, among other things, from the movement of the galaxies.

Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona:
First experimental signs of a "New Physics" beyond the Standard Model
NSBP Briefs: Letter to the Editor

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Sci-fi School ep.4 Aliens Pt.2

SCIFI SCHOOL by Odis Chenault

EP.4 the Powers of Aliens

Odis Chenault

 Last time, we looked at Aliens appearance and forms; now let’s discuss the powers and abilities they might possess.

 Aliens capable of traveling to the Earth, start out with a huge technological advantage over Earthlings. It follows that they’re technology would allow them to develop their minds and bodies as well. They could have evolved psychic abilities or engineered them into their species. It’s also possible that they could use implanted or external tech to get the job done. Aliens mental powers could include telepathic (accessing someone else’s mind with their own), psychokinetic (moving things), empathic (feeling what another feels) and more.

 Aliens could have the ability to fly, project force fields, emit energy blasts and just about anything else you’ve ever seen a super hero or villain do in comics or movies. The level of power could range from the ability to use one of these powers once in a while to any or all of them whenever they choose to. The powers could be natural for a species or a result of some chemical, radiation or mechanical enhancement.

One very tricky alien ability is shape shifting.  Aliens with this gift are hard to defend against. They are like living Transformers.

 Most of this has pertained to sentient aliens. Unfortunately, even alien animals could have any of these powers. Writers will often create giant alien monsters that behave like dinosaurs from space. On the other hand, I’ve see everything from alien virus type beings to a tiny crew inside a people shaped space ship.

 Science fiction is known for fancy invasions by aliens. Whether they come in blasters blazing or steal our bodies while we sleep, the idea of fighting aliens is pretty silly. I keep on saying that if hostile aliens can get here at past light speeds; they can do whatever they want to us from orbit. We would only still be alive if they wanted us that way. Slave labor, host bodies or food.

  Hostile aliens make great protagonists in Sci-fi stories, but there’s a 50/50 chance that aliens could be friendly. Hopefully, the direction of evolution is towards more peaceful pursuits.

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Obligations of the Creator

The people that contribute to Moorsgate Media in general, and I myself in particular, think a lot about world building. Be it the setting of rules for a role playing game, the types of magic and monsters that should lurk in the corners of Urban Fantasy, or the types of FTL technologies available to any one race. 


However, there are other considerations that always come up in the scope of world building. What, we wonder, is an author's or designer's obligation to his audience?


Is the writer of a Zombie Apocalypse story required to have his scrappy band of survivors represent, and represent well, every strip and strain of humanity. If he doesn't, has he committed some cardinal sin of fiction? Is a game designer's option to have her female character be a lesbian, mean that she is implicitly writing off the hetrosexual gaming population? Is the reverse true? Is a Gay Male hero saving his boyfriend a "damsel in distress" trope? If not, why? 


Recently, GRRM author of the widely successful Song of Fire and Ice series ( and TV Show under the Game of Thrones label) has come into some criticism for both the "ethnic" casting of certain characters, and his depictions of whole (made up, but historically analogous) regions. Anyone interested in the specifics of those arguments can find them on the intertubes. Similarly, feminist critic Anita Sarkeesian, and others, go into great detail the way that gender is construed in mainstream and indie video games.  Both sets of criticisms are valid and worth your time. However, there is an uncomfortable vagueness of concern that lurks at the core of the criticism. 


Obligation. 


What is the author's obligation. Is a straight, white male obligated to create "others" for the benefit of his audience? Do we want him to? Do we want positive role models for underrepresented peoples to be crafted by the over-represented? If a black lesbian writes a novel, is she obligated to have a positive portrayal of straight white men? Should she? 


This is not to say that there is an equivalence between those authors who trade is tropes and stereotypes and those who don't, but the question needs to be asked. Who is the arbitrator of your work?  If the market is, then the market decides if a story-line is a trope, or a re-invention. If it is society, then society should be able to produce enough voices that one successful GRRM is countered by other depictions of POC in a fantasy setting. 


If that's not the case, and I think any cursory reading of widely successful new IP in the sci-fi and fantasy space, says its not. Then we have to ask why? Where are the sweeping Tolkien-esq epics featuring POC characters? Where are the gripping video-games with all female-leads? Do the underrepresented have an obligation to create for themselves, as well as criticize. 

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Getting What You Celebrate...



The 12th Edition of the National Festival in Popular Astronomy
Year after year since 2001, the National Festival in Popular Astronomy is held for the benefit of the public at large. In this twelfth edition we shall focus on the planet exploration and more particularly the red planet Mars.. From Viking to pathfinder to Opportunity to Curiosity. There is indeed a new momentum to go for Mars which has captured people's imagination. It is a technological endeavor which soon enough will have a human counterpart and already astronauts have been selected to become in due time Mars ready! Many activities will take place during this edition both high level and for the general public has made it throughout the years a much sought astronomical rendezvous. Like usual, this year come with its share of surprises, not the least a portable planetarium which will make great animation with the public....

Sirius: 12th National Festival in Popular Astronomy

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The Outcasts

 

This is an excerpt from a Steamfunk story I'm going to publish on kindle...

 

On the island of Saint-Domingue, in the dead of night, thousands of slaves crept silently along the path through the trees and wiry brush to Bois Caïman. In the clearing the Houngan Dutty Boukman, a huge, self-educated slave with a fierce countenance, and Mambo Cecile Fatiman, a mulatto slave woman, waited to led them in ceremony. They petitioned the Loa for protection, for deliverance from slavery’s lash—calling upon the darkest spirits of their Ancestors to help them in their battle.

They prayed for freedom.

Bon Dje nou an ki si bon, ki si jis, li ordone vanjans!” Dutty shouted. “Se li kap kondui branou pou nou ranpote la viktwa! Se li kap ba nou asistans. . .! Koute vwa la libète kap chante lan kè nou!”

Our God, who is so good, so just, He orders us to revenge our wrongs! It’s He who will direct our arms and bring us the victory! It’s He who will assist us. . .! Listen to the voice for liberty that sings in all our hearts!”

There was a clap of thunder. . . lightning flashed in the dark sky. A swirling rush of wind stirred the trees.

Cecile's green eyes rolled back in her head. Enraptured she began to dance wildly. She’d been possessed by the Erzulie Seven Kout Kouto—the most deadly embodiment of the Loa, Erzulie Dantor. She sang and the slaves—beating upon the drums in rage—sang with her:

Seven kout kouto, seven kout ponya

Prete mwen ganmèl lan pou mwen al vomi san

Prete mwen ganmèl lan pou mwen al vomi san

San mwen ape koule!”

Seven stabbings of knives, seven stabbings of daggers

Lend me the ganmèl, so I can vomit blood

Lend me the ganmèl, so I can vomit blood

My blood is running!”

Seven days later Dutty led his people in revolt against their slave masters. . .burning plantations to the ground. For this rebellion, he was captured and beheaded by the French; his head was publicly displayed with a placard reading: “Boukman, Chef des Revolutions des Escalves,” Boukman, Chief of the Slaves Revolution. The French thought killing Dutty Boukman would frighten the Black slaves— thus halting the tide of revolution.

But the fires of liberation Dutty and Cecile ignited were not the first, nor would they be the last.

***

Monique, a tall, young woman with chocolate-colored skin, a long face, and slender build, made her way through the tall brass structures of Saint-Domingue, past red flowering Hibiscus blooms toward the fields. She was dressed in wrapped skirt and bustier, her braided hair wrapped in twisted beads atop her head. She wore a brass-handled musket on a holster about her waist. A grip of interwoven cloth and metal, encased her fingers and entire arm up to her shoulder to minify kickback from her pistol. She carried a water flask in one hand and her breakfast of a partially-eaten boiled plantain in the other. 

She stopped at a well on the outskirts of her township. Monique finished the last of the plantain in one bite, and dropped the peel in the cloth trash-bag beside the well: a conveyer belt made of cloth and woven wire. Half the belt lay above the soil; the rest, on her left and right, was buried underground. Monique knelt before the clunky machinery attached to two metal legs above the conveyor belt. She turned the crank, the belt jerked and scuttled forward: carrying copper vases full of water, screwed to caps on its underside. 

Monique twisted one of the vases off, filled her flask and turned it up her full lips: drinking deeply. She poured more water into the flask, and reattached the water vase back onto the belt. Refreshed and ready, the young woman made her way to the field on the edge of town. There she found thousands of men and women, aged sixteen to sixty, preparing for tomorrow.

When they would go to war with France.


Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers 2013 all rights reserved

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Boston Strong...


This has little to do with the marathon bombing, nor giving celebrity to its perpetrators. Let me state that upfront.
Source: Engineering dot com

I couldn't help notice Boston along with Silicon Valley is one of the top Innovation Clusters around the globe. My suspicion is this isn't an all-inclusive list: just a highlight of the "major players." Sobering is the US has only two of the eight clusters. Somewhat frightening is these sites may be where most of our new technological, information system ideas may ultimately come...for the rest of us as consumers and not FROM us as producers.

Meaning: STEM careers may become the narrow apex of a pyramid with a widening base. We may be reaping the whirlwind of our insistence on debated "controversies" of tested theory versus shouted, banal opinions (Climate Change, Big Bang, Higgs Boson, Evolution, Standard Model - the antithesis the shouted, banal opinion). The world is leaving us in the dust...quite literally.
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Grotthus Mechanism...



Protons, as positively charged hydrogen ions, move very rapidly in water from one water molecule to the next, which is why the conductivity of water is relatively high. The principle of proton conduction in water has been known for 200 years and is named the Grotthuss mechanism after its discoverer, Theodor Grotthuss. It is based on the assumption that it is not that a single specific proton moving from one molecule to another; instead, there is cleavage of bonds. One proton docks onto a molecule and this causes another proton to leave that molecule and bind to another molecule somewhere else. This proton exchange mechanism has been compared to a 'bucket line' to explain the rapid diffusion of the individual protons. However, this concept oversimplifies the situation and belies the complexity of the structure of water. Researchers from Zurich and Mainz have now been able to analyze the mechanism in more detail using theoretical calculations and have shown that the currently accepted picture of proton diffusion may need to be revised. "The simulation shows that the crossover from one water molecule to the next occurs more quickly than previously thought and then there is a rest period until the next crossover," said Professor Thomas D. Kühne of the Institute of Physical Chemistry at Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz (JGU), describing the results. These were published online on July 18, 2013 in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

Johannes Gutenberg University:
Protons hop from one water molecule to another given suitable energy conditions

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Die Demon Die!

Die Demon Die!

By Ronald T. Jones

 

 

The Vrondak have no concept of revenge. Highly charged emotions fuel revenge and the Vrondak are not motivated by emotion. They do however understand reaction. If someone Fs with you, you F with them back meaner and harder, so hard it deters. And if your opponent is not deterred, he’s at least crippled or dead.

            Contact told me how an occupied world under Vrondak rule launched a rebellion that resulted in little more than a thousand Vrondak casualties. Less than a third fatal. Well, the Vrondak reacted. They deployed their capitol ships above a randomly chosen continent and opened fire. When their bombardment ceased, the continent had been irradiated, and a half billion inhabitants (60 percent of the planet’s population) no longer existed. Message sent. Message received. That planet remains a passive, compliant member of the Vrondak’s star spanning domain to this day.

            A cold reaction can be as effective as hot vengeance. The only difference is, a cold reaction is stale, but vengeance is sweet. I happen to have a sweet tooth.

           

            The abandoned warehouse was nestled on the outskirts of Midtown’s industrial district. No street lights shone, but the presence of a full moon compensated, bathing the structure’s dilapidation in a powdery glow. I drove up to the warehouse, my headlights off, parked and waited. A minute later, another car pulled up stealthily beside mine. I got out of my car and grabbed a black suitcase from the trunk. Two women emerged from the other car. Each retrieved a similar suitcase from their vehicle.

            “Good to see you, Adeline, Felecia,” I greeted the women. “Thanks for coming.”

            Adeline Stevens, a stout ex-marine with a strong jaw regarded me with obvious sympathy. “No need to thank us, Darren. We’d be here whether you invited us or not.”

            Felecia Conway nodded in vigorous agreement. A SWAT officer and helicopter pilot, Felecia possessed a razor sharp mind wedded to a sharper wit…qualities that attracted me to her. We used to date, but that’s a tale for another day.

Adeline used to live in Midtown, but moved to the west coast to care for her ailing mother. Felecia lived in the south. Both arrived in town in the wake of our fellow demon slayers’ deaths. Both longed to erase a host of demons after the gruesome slaughter they inflicted on our comrades. I had information identifying the demon who greenlit and possibly led the raid that resulted in the massacre. Like me, Felecia and Adeline couldn’t wait to issue payback. I just hoped the intelligence was good enough, considering the source…

 

Smack! Jeff Brenner succumbed to my stinging slap like a collapsing house of cards. He toppled off the folding chair in spite of the fact that I didn’t really hit him that hard, and crumbled to the floor, whimpering like a wounded dog.

            I thought about propping him back on the chair, but quailed at the idea of touching him. Hell, I didn’t want to be in the same room with this derelict. He stank of alcohol, marijuana, crack and a sordid medley of mind-altering garbage.

            He lived in a studio apartment overrun with dirt and clutter. I didn’t know how he managed on his own given his ravenous zest for self medication.

            I gave him a solid kick to the gut.

            Jeff yelped in pain and curled into a twitching ball.

            “I’m just getting warmed up,” I reminded him coldly.

            “Please…I didn’t betray anyone!”

            Now that really set me off. Contact had identified Jeff Brenner as the person who informed the demons about a demon slayer meeting. Time, location, all the relevant details the demons needed to launch an assault that killed thirty of my comrades. Aiding an enemy of humanity was bad enough. Lying about it just added insult to injury as far as I was concerned.

            I took out my Shiva blade and placed its razor edge against his throat.

            Jeff’s eyes bulged with terror, his breathing coming out in rapid spurts.

            “I’m not in the mood for lies. I have it on good authority that you tipped a demon off. Who did you inform and where can I find him?”

            There comes that critical moment in one’s life when everything hinges on a single choice. I could almost see those rusted gears working in Jeff’s head as he calculated the costs and benefits of the choices before him.

            I let my Shiva bite just enough into his flesh to encourage him in the right direction.

            He flinched. “All right…I…I’ll talk…”

            I drew the knife away and stepped back.

            Jeff rose to a sitting position. With a delicate finger, he dabbed at the minor scrape my blade left on his neck. “Baal.”

            I leaned forward, squinting. “What?”

            “Baal…that’s the demon I spoke to. I told him what I knew.”

            My gaze narrowed in contempt at this pathetic excuse for a human being. Jeff could shoot off at the mouth because his cousin, Ray, was a demon slayer. Unfortunately, Ray made the mistake of telling Jeff what he did on the side. As slayers, we’re not supposed to divulge our activities to anyone, not even close relatives. Now, as a result of Ray’s flawed decision, he and well over two dozen slayers were dead. The tragedy of it made my head swim.

            “Baal,” I mouthed skeptically. “The Baal?”

            Jeff nodded. “That’s him.”

            “The Babylonian deity? The one children were sacrificed to?”

            “The one and only.”

            Wow. He was real. I shook off my fascination and focused on the interrogation. “How long were you feeding information to…Baal?”

            Jeff shrugged. “Three weeks…a month maybe. Whatever Ray told me about missions, other slayers…stuff like that…I passed on to Baal.”

            “Let me guess,” I said, a fresh wave of anger building up inside me. “Baal didn’t act on anything you fed him until you told him about the meeting, right? That’s where he seized on an opportunity to eliminate a gathering of slayers.”

            At that point, Jeff dropped his eyes. The magnitude of what he’d done clearly, heavily dawned on him. The massive guilt I suspected he felt manifested itself in a cascade of tears.

            I watched his convulsions unmoved. “How did you get in contact with Baal?”

            “Through…his agent on Earth…” Jeff managed between sobs. “A guy named Ricker…he’s one of those devil worshipers…he works at a bar on Lake Street called the Rose Petal.”

            I committed this Ricker’s name and location to memory. “In exchange for your betrayal what did Baal offer you?”

            Jeff quieted down. He looked up at me through a tear stained gaze. “I didn’t want to do this…I mean Ray was trying to help me…he was trying to get me off this…stuff, recruit me…he wanted me to be a slayer…he figured it would end my addiction.”

            “What did Baal offer you?” I repeated. I wasn’t interested in hearing this man’s contrite rambling.

            Fresh tears ran down his face. “Any drug of choice.”

            I tightened my grip on my Shiva. It was a reflex motion. Slitting this snake’s throat would have been a nice follow-up on that reflex. “So that’s how much the lives of good men and women are worth to you, a fix.”

            Jeff looked away. “Ricker has one of those Hell portal things. I saw him use it once to bring Baal over to this side.”

            My eyes narrowed at that extra tidbit of information. It was potentially useful.

            “Are you going to kill me?” The addict asked in a low, pleading voice.

            I glared at him. “I don’t know.”

 

 

            I left Jeff’s apartment building ten minutes later, pausing to call an ambulance. The poor fellow was overdosing. He might have lived. He might have died. Part of me hoped he pulled through so he could be tortured by guilt.

            Later that evening I took a trip to the Rose Petal bar…

 

******

 

 

            The ladies and I ducked inside the warehouse. We opened our suitcases and removed our combat gear. Flexible, temperature-controlled armor, thinner than silk, harder than carbon.  Multi-spectrum optical masks, and diverse-terrain traction shoes. All rounded off by feather light flak vests made of a durable reactive material to supplement the armor.

            My scanner doubled as a beacon. I adjusted it accordingly and placed it on the floor. We were about to go to Hell. The beacon’s signal was our tether to home. Without it…well the idea of being stranded in Hell almost gave me pause.

            Contact opposed this mission. Despite being a renegade among his people, he still thought like them. He considered any operation conducted out of vengeance to be a wasteful exercise. I didn’t play down the vengeance part, but I convinced him that taking out a top demon was an opportunity that we simply could not pass up. It would deny the enemy leadership and foment disarray in his ranks. Any damage to a demon fell within mission parameters. Contact relented. After all, he couldn’t deny the logic.

            I took a red, crystalline device out of the suitcase and hooked it to my ordnance belt. It was a Hell portal activator. Its previous owner had disappeared. I estimate it’ll be a few years before his body is discovered. I’m thorough like that.

            Felecia stared at the activator. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”

            I hefted my combat assault blaster, peering through its sight to test the targeter. “I’ve had experience.”

            “But have you used one?” Felicia always did know when I was being evasive.

            “I studied a demonstration model,” I admitted somewhat meekly.

            Adeline cut an amused eye my way as she attached a blaster pistol to her hip harness.

            “Your faith in me is endearing,” I scoffed. “Stand back.” I tapped a sequence on the activator. Seconds later a beautiful blue glow pushed back the surrounding darkness like the parting of a curtain.

            The three of us stood before that glow until Adeline nudged me with her elbow and extended a hand toward the portal. “Gentlemen first.”

            I nodded, swallowed my trepidation and stepped forward.

 

******

 

 

            I didn’t know what to expect when we stepped through the portal. The popular view of Hell is a sweltering vista roiling with lakes of fire and brimstone, punctuated by the screams of ill fortuned souls destined to burn for all eternity.

            We actually found ourselves in what looked like the interior of a castle. It was a vast space with a polished marble floor and spiral etched columns supporting a high ceiling. Images covered the walls of this strange room. Ghoulish, frightening images straight out of human nightmares but undoubtedly suited to demon tastes. We walked past column after column until we entered another room, this one smaller, its walls covered with less terrifying motifs, mostly geometric shapes. I saw a few pentagrams embedded in the patterns.

            Yeah, I probably didn’t expect the fire and the suffering, but I definitely had not anticipated a place so antiseptic, so prosaic.

We strolled cautiously through the room, entering another room of approximately the same size with similar wall art. Except this room had a window with a view overlooking an immaculate garden. Trees and bushes lined pebbled walkways. Flowers of more varieties and colors than could be found on Earth highlighted sections of the garden.

            “Flowers in Hell?” Felecia muttered incredulously.

            “Must have bad been flowers,” I joked.

            No one laughed.

            The spirals of a distant city stretched across an orange-red horizon. A demon city. That was as much of an eye opener as being inside a demon castle.

            “Where do we even begin to look for Baal in this place?” Adeline wondered.

            As if in answer to her question, a procession of forty demons dressed in long white robes filed down one of the wider paths leading to an entrance into the castle. By my estimate, we were four floors up. We needed to get to the first level.

            I waved us toward the room’s exit. “Come on.”

            I was certain beyond a doubt that Baal was nearby. The portal wouldn’t have brought us to a place where he was out of reach.

            From the looks of that procession, the discipline of its formation, the in sync rhythm of its march, I had a feeling…

            We double-timed it through room after room until we came across a spiral staircase with gold colored steps. We dashed down the stairs, reaching a first floor that was considerably less cavernous than the upper levels. Shorter wider columns filled the first level. An arch-like opening fifty feet from our position led to the outside.

            The demon procession marched through that arch. I hid behind a column. Adeline and Felecia hid behind one across from me and we waited until the procession passed by us. We followed the demons, keeping out of sight, until they stopped before a pair of massive metal doors covered with pentagram engravings.

            Adeline detached a star shaped frag detonator from her belt. I knew what she had in mind.

            The doors opened up slowly with a low rumble that echoed through the room like a beastly growl.

            When the procession entered the room, the doors closed.

            “Your call,” Felecia said, pinning me with a steady gaze. “Do you think Baal is in there?”

            “What do you think?” I queried back.

            Felecia shook her head. “I have no friggin’ clue!”

            I shrugged. “Same here. Either way, we’ll be killing those creatures on their own turf.”

            Adeline held up her frag detonator. “Guess that’s my que.” The ex-Marine dashed from her cover. She slapped the detonator on the left door and scrambled for the nearest column.

            Within five seconds a bubble of flame, smoke and debris filled the entrance, leaving a gaping hole that the three of us rapidly exploited.

            High-pitched demon howls of pain and rage issued forth in the explosion’s wake.

            From her proximity, Adeline was first through the breached entrance. I followed close on her heels, leaping into a smoke filled chamber nearly the size of a basketball court.

            Demon bodies littered the floor and for a second, I thought the blast alone had debilitated everyone present. But just as many demons were either on their feet or rising. There must have been a good five hundred or more in the room.

            I flicked my assault blaster to auto, and sprayed neutron bursts wherever I saw a demon standing.

            Felecia and Adeline’s weapons spat death and the three of us inundated the chamber in a directed energy storm, riddling demons to shreds. I lowered my blaster and began targeting the wounded, pumping energy bolts into the dead and the living.

            An object zipped past my head, hit the wall and exploded. I ducked and spotted three more objects, long and arrow like sailing through the aperture from outside. Two of the arrows exploded against the wall like the first one. The third arrow hit Adeline in her gun arm. The subsequent blast sent her reeling head over foot a good twenty yards, where she crashed on her back.

            “We’ve got a response!” Felecia announced with admirable calm.

            A growing number of demons, some armed with bows, ran toward the room. The archers released combustible Hell arrows…the same arrows used in the attack on my fellow slayers. A biting sulfurous odor from arrow explosions filled the room. My mask’s filtration worked in overdrive to filter out most but not the entire stench.

            I ran to Adeline’s aid while Felecia fired on the demon archers. The ex-Marine barely stirred, testifying to the power of the Hell arrow that hit her.

            Something gripped my ankle, tripping me up. I torpedoed to the ground, but twisted about in time to see a huge demon looming over me. The thing bore a visage more bull like than serpentine. It was massively muscled with mottled gray leathery skin. Three horns, black as obsidian protruded from the sides and front of its head like twelve-inch sabers. Its small deep-set eyes emitted a dull red glow. The creature’s wide mouth stretched open in a snarl, made all the more frightful by teeth that looked like a hedge of daggers.

            “Baal!” I uttered, recognizing the demon from the description Jeff gave me.

            The demon moved in an eyeblink, swatting away my blaster before I could level it on him.

            “In the flesh, human!”

            Baal stomped hard on my midsection. Even through flak vest and armor, I felt that blow.

            The demon unsheathed a double-pronged sword, each blade longer and wider than my arm.

            I jumped to my feet, but was unable to avoid the bite of Baal’s sword as it came blurring in a downward arch. My left chest burned where double hell-forged blades actually penetrated the armor, cutting the flesh beneath. The sword’s impact threw me back to the floor as if a wrecking ball had hit me.

            Baal came at me again, sword raised high.

            I rolled just as his sword struck the spot I just occupied.

            By this time, a horde of demon reinforcements poured into the room.

            Felecia was mowing them down, but she couldn’t kill them fast enough. They just kept coming, surging over the bodies of their fallen brethren with savage, undisciplined fury.

            Baal swung his sword and I reared back. A blade tip nicked an area just below my neck.

            I leapt forward, my Shiva in hand. I meant to deliver a backhand slash, opening the demon’s throat. But Baal proved too damned quick. He crouched and instead my blade sheared through his left horn.

            Enraged, Baal blasted out an ear splitting roar. “You will suffer, human filth!”

            Suddenly he doubled over as an energy beam speared him in the gut. I turned to see Adeline rising, her blaster aimed at the demon leader. She managed a second shot, striking Baal in the chest. The demon stumbled backwards, losing his balance and falling.

            A mob of demons unscathed by our entry blast swarmed Adeline. She was clearly in bad shape. No way was she going to fend off that many attackers in her condition.

            I scooped up my assault blaster and pumped a spread of bolts into Baal’s body. Afterward, I ran toward Adeline, firing into a mass of demons surrounding her. Dozens dropped.

            “Felecia!” I called out. “Let’s go! I’m opening a portal!”

            Felecia back peddled toward me while maintaining a steady rate of fire in front of her. Hell arrows exploded at her feet or whisked past her. A few she shot out of the air.

            Every demon she targeted fell with sizzling fist sized holes in their heads and bodies.

I tapped my Hell portal activator and a familiar blue glow materialized behind us.

 Felecia unclipped a grenade and hurled it at the rushing demon wave. I did the same. Almost instantly a pair of fiery blasts shook the room. Demon bodies and body parts arched outward from the blasts in grisly spouts.

I grabbed Adeline, hauled her to her feet and headed for the portal. Felecia covered our withdrawal with deadly accurate shooting.

            I glanced back, thought I saw a larger than average demon with two horns coming to his feet amid a heaving throng of his fellows. But that couldn’t have been possible. I was sure I killed him!

            Too late to remedy the situation. The three of us had already fled into the portal.

 

******

 

 

            Felecia, Adeline and I recuperated in my house the next day. Adeline had suffered from a broken arm, shattered ribs and a mild concussion. I had a ragged incision across my chest. I tended Adeline’s injuries with a Vrondak medical kit. She was fully healed within three hours. A nanite rich salve closed my cut. After a few minutes I’d forgotten I had the wound.

            One thing I couldn’t forget…didn’t want to forget was failure. Baal was still alive. Of that I was certain. I failed to finish him off.

            “We struck him in the middle of his lair,” Felecia said as we sat on lawn chairs in my small backyard, drinking smoothies.  “We killed a bunch of his lackeys, shot him multiple times and don’t forget, you cut off his horn. You may not have iced him but you humiliated him. That’s payback.”

            “Not payback enough.” I appreciated Felecia’s efforts to show me a glass half full. But Baal’s continued existence clung to the back of my mind like a leech. I couldn’t let it go.

            Felecia leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. All thoughts of Baal vanished instantly, displaced by the sight of a very attractive face. Needless to say Felecia had my full attention. “You need to stop punishing yourself. We just went to Hell, did some major damage and came back in one piece. That was our boldest strike. Celebrate it.”

            “You’re right,” I conceded, taking her hand and caressing it. “I’m doing too much moping. We should indeed be celebrating this victory.” I looked into her eyes, silently advertising what I had in mind.

            Felecia smiled, gently disengaged and stood. “Not that kind of celebration.”

“Come on,” I begged “For old times sake.”

“My flight leaves in two hours.”

“So does that mean that if you didn’t have a flight we’d spend quality time together?”

Felecia gave me a warm look, which didn’t answer my question. “It’s been good seeing you, Darren. Feel free to call us again when you need backup.”

             I watched her go into the house and sighed.

            Another failure. How much more could a man take?  I grinned and sipped my smoothie.

           

           

             

             

              

           

           

 

 

           

 

 

           

           

           

           

             

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life only the mind sees

One of our crowd asked when they saw my dwelling designs, what kind of advanced beings could live there. I couldn't answer at that time, had no knowledge of the future. Seeing Darwin's theory as just that, there is no evolution except something effects the being enough to be imprinted in the DNA. Then the adjustment is moved along the DNA path. If there is other genetic support, then the weight of recessive or dominate mathematics play out. There are two over riding factors you have to consider. Just as cells split to produce a twin, higher forms reproduce after their own kind. If you cross or mix or mingle your genetic pools, then their is variation. Mutation is however a weakness in the outcome, like cancer. It is an abnormality.

Also if you manipulate the language so that the consciousness of the accepted normal thinking accepts abnormality as "another intelligent life form", even if the arrangement of structure is awkward to coexist with, then you understand why we are all so screwed up.

 

So having said all that, advancement of our species will only happen in our minds. The mind is the only place we haven't really embraced. We control the concept of mind via political, religious and intellectual content. We have in place taboos, prejudices, restrictions and fear. You can't open doors when fear says no.

The knowledge to those pathways are blocked, hidden in the misleading rights of passage business, mythic stories turned into literal religions and fear of the unknown, judgment, hell, madness, possession, death or horrific mutilation, and being outcast or killed by relatives. This is knowledge that is no longer shared or understood by community. Especially in today's social-political-religious construct.

The antidote is simply to change your mind, to repent. Hah! I thought you religious folks would jump! Relax, I been their 40 years, blinded by sincere faith with no knowledge. The cost of liberation is time and study to know history and facts. The ability to liberate is simple, change your mind. Because god becomes a concept and a construct and a prison if we are not taught correctly. We think our religion is worship and the ritual is worship, the awareness is the real worship. This brings out an acknowledgement and respect for the power and participation in that power. Don't get a tight head!

I know it is not as easy as it sounds. Our deep do do is in our DNA via our total immersion in this present living. BUT, a change in the thoughts is all it takes to begin the process. This is how revolution works. Not by sword or by might, but by my own spirit. A spirit that witnesses firsthand. This is why our ancient forefathers had initiation rights to channel a serious viewing of inner knowing. If you are not serious, you can not see.

An advanced being does not need a dwelling except to shield his physical form from adverse elements. It is to provide protection and security while in stasis (sleep), a place for the family cluster, a place to make and eat meals, store provisions and necessities, a place to muse and display trophies (be it game or handiwork). The form of the dwelling is reflective of the technology in common use and the knowledge of the builder to expand on that to meet real needs. We don't usually build our own dwellings, we rent, lease and buy used living spaces and adapt. The physical forms of homes evolve so slow and are not the mark of advancement.

Advancement is a state of mind. Always has been, always will be. It would be nice to live in a physical world as futuristically evolved as our dreams. Check out Paul Williams who in 1960 designed the theme building at Los Angeles International Airport. Ooh, a black guy designed that!?! Double ooh, his dreams were limited because the world was not ready for that, still not. We need to barrage the world with our futuristic visions to put it in their mind that retro is not helping us inspire to an evolved mind. The other world is into global destruction, not advancement. Who is your daddy/mommy now!

   

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The idea of 'Meat' grown in a petri dish may sound unappetizing, but it may just be the answer for not only feeding the potential billions more of mouths to be born on this planet, but also the solution for animal protein in space.

Here's an article discussing this new and innovative solution for growing 'meat' via cultured muscle tissues rather than harvesting an entire animal....

Lab Grown Meat

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I know this post is late.  The TV show "Young Justice" was cancelled back in March.  I bought the last DVD for the 2nd season about a month ago, and I've been feeling like this ever since I finished watching the season finale.  Now for those of you who don't know what "Young Justice" is about, it's a show about a team of superheroes formed from the sidekicks or younger versions of the heroes from the "Justice League".  Now for those of you who don't know about the "Justice League", they're a team of adult superheroes, which include Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and a host of other famous superheroes.  Now if you don't know about Batman or Superman, stop reading.  This post isn't for you. 
Now the premise sounds corny and childish, but the writers on the show made it work.  The kids take on HUGE responsibilities and have to go on covert missions for the Justice League.  Batman assigns the team their missions, and an android watches over them.  Batman doesn't make jokes.  The android doesn't make jokes.  The team doesn't make jokes.  They don't even call themselves "Young Justice".  That's just the name of the show.  They refer to themselves simply as "The Team".  Each member has their share of personal demons and secrets, which creates a feeling of suspense throughout each season.  This is the formula they used in the first season.  This was the formula they used in the 2nd season.  
This is the reason I was so puzzled when the show was taken off the air.  Different reasons were given, i.e., the show used too many unknown characters or the toys didn't sell as well.  I believe both these reasons are bunk.  The writing for the 2nd season was just as good as the first season.  Since the show revolves around secrets, it's better for them to use more unknown characters.  The writing has never centered around the kids' superhero status.  The show revolves around children overcoming great obstacles, much like the hit series "Avatar: The Last Airbender", which got 3 seasons and a spinoff which is entering its 2nd season.  
The toys didn't sell sounds like bunk too.  DC comics and Warner Bros. do the show.  Making unknown characters attractive means more comic books sales.  Good stories make for increased viewership.  Increased viewership means increased ad revenue, the bread and butter behind any TV series.  However, I did notice one glaring difference between the 1st season and the 2nd season: the color line was freaking gone.
Most of the leading characters were Black, Hispanic, female, swarthy, or an alien.  The only blond, blue-eyed hero was Artemis and she was undercover as a brunette for most of the season.  They brought in an unknown superhero, Blue Beetle, aka, Jaime Reyes, a Latino from Texas, who is not an illegal immigrant or a gang member.  His best friend in the show is a Native American, who does not come from a broken home.  The Native American's family lives in a regular house, but he doesn't like his stepfather because the stepfather engages in illegal activity.  The activity?  Selling bootleg DVDs.  Later they bring in a young Japanese superhero who is female, not a math whiz, and doesn't know karate. 
Of course, they had a sassy Black female superhero, but she was downplayed while they played up another female Black superhero who wasn't sassy and was a research assistant majoring in physics.  Then she was given a Black boyfriend who happened to be her high school sweetheart.  Of course, the relationship had stress, but simply because she spends too much time in the lab, not because her man is a no-good Negro. 
The other Black superhero is Aqua Lad, who is actually more powerful than the superhero, Aquaman, that he works for.  Aqua Lad's father turns to be Aquaman's nemesis, Black Manta, (who I, personally, never thought to be Black until the series aired).  Black Manta is a criminal who carries himself like a king and keeps African artifacts in his study.  He loves his son deeply and goes to great lengths to protect Aqualad in the show.  He's not an absentee father.  Aquaman took his son away from him.
The Whites aren't evil.  They treat everyone as equals.  They don't make assumptions about their partners based on stereotypes.  They're easily the most ideal Caucasians I've ever seen.  Unfortunately, for the status quo, they don't look like Aryans.  They appear to be the nicest bunch of Irish and Italian people you ever did meet. 
The gender line is gone too.  The ladies on the show are not weak and they don't spend all their time chasing boys.  They're not catty.  They love each other (without sexual undertones).  They are always willing to work together effectively as a team.  The 2nd season of this show was nothing short of an American cultural triumph.  
And then it was canceled.  
There is a petition to bring it back.  You could sign it.  That would be wonderful.  In the meantime, I have an African American daughter, who has a show she can watch on DVD that will teach her that she's just as strong as anyone else.  It's a show we can all watch and feel powerful. 

Don't forget about my book "Squirrels & Puppies: Dark Morality Tales"

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Sci-fi School ep.3 Aliens pt.1

SCI-FI SCHOOL by Odis Chenault

Odis Chenault

ep.3 Aliens pt.1

Hello and welcome to the third installment of Sci-fi School.

If you want to be a productive member of a good Sci-fi relationship, you have to know your aliens.

Aliens is definitely too big a topic to cover in one installment. This time, I’ll just try to identify some of the major types of aliens. Alien’s can be broken into three main categories, humanoid, non-humanoid or entity. Members of these categories can also overlap.

Humanoid aliens have a human body shape. The resemblance can end there. Humanoid aliens can have the right number of limbs, but other things like color, number of eyes, fingers, etc can vary. Humanoid aliens can also posess any number of powers and abilities  A humanoid alien can be a human from another world or basically anything else that has taken human form. A recurring theme in Sci-fi is that of non-humanoid aliens taking the form of the indigenous life form to blend in or adapt to the climate. It’s also a recurring theme that some unsuspecting earthling finds out that his parents were aliens or that he is special in some way.

Non-humanoids are basically your monsters. If a non-humanoid either arrived from space or resulted from mutation it is considered Sci-fi. If you find some hideous, undiscovered creature in a dark lagoon in Africa, that’s horror. By the way, supernatural themed stories are rarely Sci-fi. They’re mostly Paranormal, Occult or Fantasy. However, I have seen ghost stories set in space. Non-humanoid aliens can be microscopic.

Entity beings are usually shapeless creatures. These beings can have a lot of power. They can be single beings or community creatures. They can be in the form of gas, crystals or pure energy. They can even be liquid. Entity beings can attack one person at a time or be powerful enough to destroy a planet.

Aliens can be common species thought to have originated on Earth. Whales, Dolphins, mice, etc. I once read a story about ants being aliens that crashed on Earth and have been working hard ever since to rebuild their ship. So as you can see, aliens can be anywhere, anytime and in any form.

Good luck out there.

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New Short Story (with ants)

Okay, it's been a while since I've blogged.  I've been working hard on "Ruins of the Fall: Rise of Ramsus" and promoting my current book "Squirrels & Puppies: Dark Morality Tales".  Still, I should put something out for people to see.  I wrote this story to put on another site, but I haven't heard anything from them, sooo....here you go!  Enjoy!
The House
By Russell A. Mebane   
“You shall not enter the House of the Gods,” said the old ant, whose name was Dan.   
“The Gods aren’t real, Dan,” said Ben, the leader, “I’ve never seen one, so they don’t exist.”  
“There are the stories, my love,” said Becca, the future queen of their new colony. 
They were part of a small group of a dozen ants moving away from their home colony to forge a new one.  Ben had convinced Becca that he had the perfect idea for a new ant colony.  He was leading them to the House of the Gods.  It was unexplored territory, full of stories and mysteries.   
The grass above the ants was tall, but the House was even taller.  It overshadowed the grass and blocked out the sun at dawn.  Of course, what these ants saw was only one wall.  If they went too far to the left or right, they’d enter territories of rival colonies.  It was through their encounters with rival ant colonies that they’d heard rumors about the house having other walls.   
Ben feared these murderous rivals more than he did these fictitious “Gods”.  He’d faced the rival ants in battle before.  He knew what they were capable of.    When taking prisoners back to the colony to be devoured, they would speak of these walls.  They would tell tales of holes in these walls.  Treasures were in the House, they said.  Fields of white ground covered in brown manna, they spoke of.  They told stories of food as far as the eye could see.  How could Ben pass up the chance?      
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Sharee was in love with the house.  It was a small rental property, but she would make it a home with her new husband, Trevor.  As she walked through the house, she could see it was still dirty.  She checked the bathroom.  The white porcelain was covered in brown filth.  If she didn’t clean it soon, bugs would probably come in and try to take over the place.   
Trevor was still at work, so she decided she’d surprise him with a clean house when he got back.  He’d worked so hard moving the stuff from both their apartments into their new home.  He deserved a warm welcome when he returned.  Unfortunately, Sharee and Trevor hadn’t packed any cleaning supplies.  Sharee would have to take her car to the store to get some.  She should probably buy some bug killer too.  He’d be so pleased when he returned.      
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They had dodged a couple of rival ant patrols, but the ants had finally made it inside the wall.  Becca was full of hope.  She was going to establish a new colony with her brave consort, Ben.  He was going to impregnate her with hundreds of thousands of eggs.  She would probably spend the rest of her life laying eggs and making babies, but she would be doing it in the House of the Gods!  She had heard the stories too.  Maybe the Gods were real.  Maybe they weren’t.  She wasn’t sure what she believed, but she knew she believed in Ben.  Old Dan, however, needed some convincing.   
“We are committing the gravest of sins by coming here,” said the old insect, “The Gods are immense beings with limitless power.  We should make our homes outside in the grass and soil where we belong.”  
“Where you belong maybe, old ant,” sneered Ben, “I’ve got plans.  Big plans.  Becca and I are going to change the world.  She will give birth to an army that will move and wipe out all of our enemies.  Our colony will be the supreme colony.  No animal will dare touch us, not birds, not squirrels, and not even your precious Gods.  Today, we have a dozen ants.  Tomorrow, we will have legions.”  
Poor, old Dan shook his head as they wandered through the darkness of the wall.  Ben was a great leader, corrupted by youthful ambition.  Dan loved Becca.  He loved Ben.  They could make a beautiful colony, if only they would listen to reason.   
“The old stories speak of deathly pheromones,” Dan said, “Aromas that fall from above, enter your body and devour you from the inside out.”  
“There’s no such thing, old Dan.”  
“How can you be sure?  Our stories have been with us for generations, Ben.  They are part of our culture, our heritage.  They keep us out of harm’s way.”  
Ben scoffed at Dan.  “You mean they keep us limited and stagnant.  Did the Gods save us from the wasp raids and ant wars?  I’ve been on the battlefield.  I’ve seen Death.  Your stories didn’t save my soldiers from slaughter.   I did.  Have you ever had to carry your comrade’s severed head in your jaws?  Have you ever tasted the secretions of fear while ripping open the bowels of your opponent?  I have.  And there’s one thing I do know:  whether the battle was won or lost, it was fought with ant blood and ant wits.  I’ve never seen a God on the battlefield.  That’s where they were needed.  If they weren’t there, then they’re definitely fiction.  What Gods would allow such atrocities to occur right outside their own home?”  
“The concerns of the Gods are far beyond our understanding,” Old Dan responded, “We can’t expect the Gods to interfere in the affairs of ants.  There are things in this world that ants may only dream of.”  
“I’m aware of that,” said Ben, “We’re heading to the land of dreams right now.”      
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Trevor was God-sent, Sharee thought as she drove home from the store.  She had spent years praying and fasting for a good man, and the Heavens opened and revealed Trevor.  He had a decent job.  He was easy on the eyes, and he loved Sharee.  Oh, how he loved her.  He put in extra time at work to pay for the move.  His friends helped.  All Sharee had to do was pack her things and follow her heart.   
She’d saved herself for marriage.  Her friends had laughed about that.  They said she was silly.  Sharee thought it was silly to open herself to hurt, harm, disease, and single parenting.  Her girlfriends at church told her to give Trevor a little taste after they were engaged.  Sharee still waited, and so did Trevor.  Sharee wasn’t a grandstander waiting for a big wedding and a platinum ring.  She and Trevor were married at the courthouse.  Sharee was just following what she had been raised to believe.  Is it silly to believe in the irrational when it leads to rational decisions?  
Sharee had to get the house in order for her husband, while her girlfriends from church were still mired in sex, lies, and drama.  As soon as she got home she headed to the bathroom.  That bathtub would be the first thing she cleaned.  She flipped on the light switch in the bathroom as she walked in.       
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At last, they had arrived.  Ben led the troop of ants through a crack in the wall into Paradise.  The ground was smooth, white, and immense.   
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Becca.  The white ground they were standing on gave way to a humongous canyon.  The other ants in the group moved to the edge of the precipice and slid down.  Ben and Becca walked together to the edge and wondered at the enormity of their new home.  An ant crawled up from the bottom of the white canyon.  
“Look, my queen!” said the ant, “Manna!  Brown manna!  Here, take some.  It’s delicious.”  
Becca grasped the brown matter between her mandibles and chewed.  Flavor inundated her with electric euphoria.  Her head reeled back from the oral sensation.  She passed some to her consort, Ben.  He was also taken aback at the boisterous taste of the brown manna.  They had truly entered the House of the Gods.   
The couple slid down to join the other ants in their feasting and gathering.  Everything was going according to Ben’s plan.  This was the profit of relying on one’s wits instead of some outdated fairytales.  Old Dan stood away from the other ants, morose and unimpressed.  
Ben placed a piece of manna in front of the old insect.  “Eat, old ant!  Has your antiquated faith stripped you of the joy of success?  We’re here.  It’s the House of the Gods!  And from here, we will establish an empire that will stretch to all sides of this house, to the fence, and to the forest beyond that.  We will be conquerors of the known world.  Aren’t you happy?”  
“How can I be happy in the face of certain doom?”  
“Oh please, Dan!  For the last time: THERE ARE NO GODS!”  
Suddenly, light flooded the canyon, reflecting off the alabaster surface into their eyes.  The ants scattered in fear and alarm.  A series of tremors shook the earth.  The queen hurried to her consort.  
“Ben, what’s going on?” she screamed.  
Before Ben could answer, old Dan offered the explanation:   “A God walks upon the earth!”  
Ben could take it no longer.  The old ant’s ramblings were frightening the others.  Dan had to be taken out to establish peace.  He moved towards Dan.  Then a shadow fell over the white canyon.  Ben froze along with the other ants.  He turned around to look at what could cause such sudden darkness.  What he saw was a creature, a being that was neither insect nor bird.  It resembled a squirrel somewhat, but it lacked fur on its face and limbs.  Its eyes weren’t on the sides of its head either, but squarely in front, like an owl hunting for prey.   
It was humongous.  
Only Dan could find the courage to speak.  “Behold, you unbelievers!  You stand before a God!”  
The Great Being looked on the dozen ants.  Then it opened its great mouth and punished them with a deafening shriek, dizzying them.  
“The Great One is angered!” shouted Dan.   
“Gee, old Dan, you think?” scoffed Ben.  He’d seen enough.  Wounded squirrels and birds had been ripped to pieces under his leadership.  This “God” would be no different. 
“Troops!  Fall in.  You’ve trained for this.  Alpha formation!  Let’s take it down!”  
A large cylinder appeared in the Great Being’s hand.  With the slightest movement of its finger, it shot mist from the cylinder at the ants.   
“Behold, the Deathly Pheromones!”  
Ben stood his ground.  “Stand firm!  Pheromones only take effect if you breathe them in.”  
“Aaargh!  My eyes!” shouted an ant.   
“It burns!”  shouted another.  
The ants fell into chaos.  Panicked breaths sucked in the toxic gas.  Vomiting soon followed.  Ben stood firm.  He was no stranger to pain.  It was pain that taught him how to survive, not some silly superstition.  He shouted at the Great Being, “Is that the best you’ve got?  Giant farts from on high?”  
As if in reply, Ben felt a thud to the left of him.  He looked and saw the flattened, mangled remains of one of his troop.  He felt another thud behind him.  He looked and saw another crushed corpse.   
“Beware, unbelievers!” Dan cried out, “It is digito Dei, the Finger of God!”  
Ben glanced at the vast, white battlefield covered in vomit and carnage.  Every strike of the Great Being’s Finger brought it closer to Becca.  He rushed to Becca’s side, but the digito Dei, the God-finger, was faster than anything he’d encountered before.  The other ants were running to protect the future queen as well.  Then the Finger would smite them.  Ben ran as fast he could, but it just wasn’t enough.  Becca was crushed beneath the Finger of God.   
Ben could only watch as the Finger rose, taking Becca with it.  The viscous fluids of her broken body had glued her to the tip of the Finger.  The Finger rose up and up until it reached eye-level with the Great Being.  It looked at Becca with disdain.  Ben could still hear her screaming for help.  The Great Being lowered its hand and, with a small gesture, sent Becca hurdling to the hard ground next to Ben.   
In the throes of death, she uttered, “…we could’ve…been…happy.”  
Ben’s lover was dead, but he had no time to mourn.  He and old Dan were the last ants standing, and Ben doubted the Great Being would smite the old believer.  He jumped quickly to the right just in time to miss the digito Dei striking the ground.  He leaped upon the Finger and held on with his six legs.  The Finger rose up and he soon was face to face with a God.  Ben stood up to the Great Being, and said,  
“I am Ben and you are a False God.  I am not afraid of you.  Your powers are great, I’ll admit, but you are responsible for the great atrocities that happen right outside this House.  You do not help us conquer our enemies.  It’s your fault that my ant colony battles endlessly with our rivals.  If you would simply come outside your House and smite our enemies, my colony would prosper.  But you neglect us.  You ignore us, so I will sin against you.  I will go back to my colony and find another queen to create a colony in your House.  You will not stop me.  I smell your flesh.  You are a female God.  You serve no other purpose than to give birth.  I am a male.  I am a fighter, a disciple of pain.  You know nothing of hardship or suffering.  I will hurt you, and you will crumble beneath my wrath!”  
Then Ben bit the digito Dei, the Finger of God.  The Great Being bellowed at Ben.  
“Yes, you felt that.  Now kneel before—”      
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Sharee squished the ant on her finger.  The little bastard bit her.  It hurt too.  She looked down in the bath tub.  There were ten, tiny ant bodies down there, not including the one on her finger.  Sharee was not happy.  These creatures had invaded her perfect little home.  Trevor would not like insects in the house he chose for her.  The ants had transgressed against her, her new husband, and the love that had brought them together.  Sharee saw one final ant crawling around the tub, and an idea popped into her brain.  She left the bathroom to get a long-nosed lighter.      
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Old Dan wandered among the bodies.  He had warned them.  They had scoffed at him.  They said Gods weren’t real.  Then a real God smote them quickly and mightily and allowed the one believer to live.  He looked and saw the Great Being returning with a wand in its hand.  Had the Great One come to reward him for his faith?   
“I am here, O Great One!” he proclaimed, “Give me the reward for my belief!”  
The Great Being pointed the wand at Old Dan and destroyed him with flames.  As his juices boiled and his organs popped, Old Dan realized:  he should not have entered the House of the Gods.    

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