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A TIE!...


See my previous post from last year. Apparently, they've decided on two locations for the Square Kilometer Array:
Credit: Physics World

The Square Kilometre Array (SKA) project will be hosted by South Africa and Australia, following a decision made by the SKA organization today.

SKA will be a €1.5bn ground-based radio-astronomy telescope used to probe the early universe for clues on galaxy evolution, dark matter and dark energy by looking as far back into time as the first 100 million years after the Big Bang. South Africa has been competing to host the array, with a rival bid from Australia.
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Fall of the Caretakers: Part One

The bus hurtled toward him. Victor ‘Ace’ Jackson wrenched himself out the huge projectile’s path. The bus speared into a five story apartment building, punching a massive hole through brick and glass. A ruptured tank hemorrhaged gas and a colossal fuel-fed eruption swallowed the bus, magnifying the size of that hole. An incendiary carpet unfurled upward, racing to the top of the building.
Jackson whirled about to face the one who flung that bus. His Adjusted View Display (AVD) filtered out a swirling haze of previous damage to provide a vividly enhanced image of his nemesis.
Garbed in signature red and gold with a Black letter I displayed on his broad chest, Invinci-Man, stood in the middle of a gutted out street. He cut a majestic figure, as if carved out of cobalt. Built like Mr. Olympia, endowed with the strength to move mountains, the ability to soar beyond the heavens, the durability to shrug off any weapon short of a nuke, Invinci-Man once reigned as a shining exemplar of goodness and integrity. Once upon a time, billions called him a hero. That was then. This was now.
Jackson stared at his former friend, briefly torn between reasoning with him and continuing this contest. No. The time for reasoning was long past. Jackson solidified his resolve and prepared to meet whatever his opponent could dish out.
Invinci-Man’s costume appeared fresh and crisp, its wearer assuming an air of casual indifference as if he were strolling through the park on a sunny afternoon. Jackson, by contrast, seemed to have attracted every particle of debris to his Energy Field Supplemented Hyper Fortified All Environment Battle Suit, until its olive green surface was caked in gray ash.
Despite the suit’s climate control, Jackson sweated bullets.
A burst of thermal energy rippled from Invinci-Man’s eyes, striking Jackson in the chest. The Battle Suit’s contact shield deflected 89 percent of the blast as Jackson tumbled backwards. A windstorm of a shock wave roiled equidistantly from point of impact. A gasping Jackson plopped on his back. The center of his suit radiated a crimson patch of deadly intense heat. He felt like his chest had been caved in. A diagnostic readout crawled across the bottom of his AVD. His suit registered a nine percent power drain from that single hit. Jackson neuro-linked a command to his suit’s core computer to compensate its powerplant’s loss…and just in the nick of time. Jackson leapt upright as Invinci-Man came at him. He linked a second command, phasing his shield from contact to absorbent mode and braced himself.
BAP! A combination of super speed and immeasurable strength barreled into Jackson, knocking him through the air at a velocity exceeding the force he received. One building, two buildings…after that he lost count of the buildings he penetrated before crashing on another empty street. A fifty foot trench ending in a dredged up mound of smoldering black top marked his hard landing.
Muscle stimulating fluids from his suit pumped into Jackson’s body, accelerating his physical recovery. A dopamine compound cleared the fog from his brain.
Invinci-Man swooped from the sky, his fist reared back for a devastating followup.
Jackson raised his arm and his ordnance bracelet roared, releasing a spray of rockets. Each rocket was a tube of graphene, impregnated with a seething core of energy so dense it was as if the mass of Mount Everest were compressed into a space the size of an index finger. Jackson didn’t take the time to aim. He couldn’t. Fifteen out of 30 rockets pummeled Invinci-Man and the very fabric of existence seemed to come apart at the seams from the fury they unleashed.
Jackson witnessed his opponent being swallowed up in a boiling brew of unleashed energy. Invinci-Man flailed to the ground some distance away, landing yards short of an SUV. The close proximity of Invinci-Man’s impact swept the vehicle end over end as if swatted by the careless hand of an impetuous giant.
Jackson’s AVD status indicator elevated off the scale. By engaging Absorbent Mode, his suit had borrowed the kinetic energy of Invinci-Man’s blow, channeled it to its servos and stored it for potential use. This meant that for exactly two minutes and 35 seconds, Jackson would be as strong as the most powerful being on Earth. At least theoretically. Absorbent Mode was a new feature he hadn’t tested. Now was as good a time as any. Jackson catapulted himself half a block, landing in front of Invinci-Man.
The super being looked groggy and was slow to rise.
Jackson delivered a roundhouse kick that sent Invinci-Man cart wheeling through a wrought iron gate fifty feet away. An astonished smile flashed across Jackson’s face. It worked. He reveled briefly in his extra strength, ephemeral though it was. No time to waste. The clock was ticking and when this mighty strength was expended, he wouldn’t be able to engage Absorbent Mode for up to eight hours.
He rammed into Invinci-Man with all the speed his suit could muster, inundating his foe with kicks, chops and punches.
Invinci-Man took the barrage for an initial few seconds, before defending himself. He lifted an elbow, blocking a punch and countering with a fist to Jackson’s face plate.
Jackson’s head snapped back with bone rattling force. Briefly, he wondered how far it would have flown were it not shielded by field-augmented armor. He reeled on the defensive, straining the agility function of his suit as he tried to elude a flurry of strikes from Invinci-Man. A kick boxing style blow from a super powered foot landed solidly in Jackson’s gut, bending him over, but not knocking him down.
Invinci-Man switched to a short, sharp karate kick, but Jackson caught the other’s leg and shoved, plowing his foe to the ground. He attempted to slide underneath Invinci-Man’s guard, apply an arm lock, and for an instant he achieved a hold.
Invinci-Man shifted. It wasn’t a brute motion. It was more of a soft, subtle, judo-style reflex, containing just enough exertion to free his arm and topple Jackson off balance.
Jackson pushed off the ground with one hand, flipping to his feet.
Invinci-Man stood, still appearing irritatingly unwinded. He regarded Jackson with keen, measuring eyes. “Your suit has always amazed me. I used to wonder what it would be like going up against it with you in it. My natural powers versus your mechanized prowess.”
Invinci-Man’s expression hinted at a smile. He so much resembled a young Sidney Portier, with a deep, resonating Barry White voice. A charismatic combination, one that used to wow the masses, especially the female element.
Jackson snarled a challenge. “Well, I hope I’m satisfying your curiosity. Allow me to satisfy it some more!” He charged. Jackson had one minute remaining of borrowed strength. He was determined to make the most of it. He delivered a forearm to Invinci-Man’s rib, receiving a thunderous uppercut in turn.
Invinci-Man’s close quarter skills were superb. Jackson never understood why for all his prodigious powers, the super being trained so rigorously in martial arts…until the latter clashed with a villain of comparable strength years ago.
A warning alert warbled in Jackson’s ear at the same instant a blip popped up on his AVD’s threat sensor display. An incoming aerial bogie. But it wasn’t a machine.
Jackson dove left, narrowly avoiding a vivid orange beam that burned a bubbling hole into the spot he just vacated. His auto-targeter captured an image of the airborne aggressor: a dark skinned woman, clad in silver breast plate armor, anatomically correct to the smallest detail. A matching kilt of glimmering lamellar flowed to mid thigh. She wore black ankle high sandals, attached to gray, spike studded shin guards. She wielded an intricately designed staff that appeared to be carved from hard wood. The world knew her as Candace, the Nile Goddess.
Jackson fired off an anti-personnel laser from his shoulder emitter.
Candace lifted her star staff faster than an eye blink, using it to catch the beam. The staff grew bright as it absorbed the laser, so bright it appeared a second sun had formed overhead. Instantly, the glare subsided and the staff reverted back to its cool earth tone. Candace dove toward Jackson, her face a mask of ferocity. “Let me have at him!” She shouted to Invinci-Man.
Jackson soaked in her rage, and for a second, vestigial fear gripped him as he pictured how much of an avenging goddess she must have appeared to her ancient subjects. Assuming her claim to godhood was valid.
The Nile Goddess pointed her star staff, summoning a second stream of orange fire.
This time Jackson was not quick enough to elude its bite. The beam caught him in the side, wrapping him in a writhing hot blossom.
Candace reached into the mini-conflagration, grabbed Jackson’s arm and hurled him effortlessly a full four blocks.
Jackson ricocheted off the corner of a building, ripping the roof off a parked station wagon before slamming headfirst into a dumpster. The large metal container crumpled around him in a distorted hug.
A red tint shrouded his AVD. Diagnostic alerts shrilled with urgency until Jackson silenced the clamor. His suit’s power level took a grave dip, forcing him to draw additional juice from his powerplant. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before he had to tap into his reserves. He managed to pry his way out of the remains of the dumpster just as Candace arrived, looming over him like a hungry raptor, her star staff raised.
She brought her staff down in a swift, gleaming arc. Jackson leapt clear. The staff struck the dumpster, incinerating what was left of it. Jackson slid behind the Goddess, neutralizing her staff arm while clamping a forearm to her throat.
Normally, Candace would have broken such a hold with contemptuous ease. Her strength was second to Invinci-Man’s. While Jackson had 35 seconds left of Invinci-Man’s strength, the physical advantage in this instance was decisively his. It was an advantage he utilized with zest as he increased pressure on the Nile Goddess’ throat…squeezing…squeezing…
Candace strained to break free. She tried to wrench her other arm from Jackson’s grip so as to gain room to direct her staff. Jackson tightened his hold on both her arm and throat. The Goddess’ struggle began to slacken.
Could he do this? He questioned himself. Could he kill her…like this…in cold blood? A former colleague?
A warning alert interrupted his musing. His scanner detected massive air displacement, an indicator of something or someone moving very, very fast. The threat was inbound on his five.

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Black Science Fiction Society w/The Abandon

Hello Black Science Fiction Society,

 

I am a co-producer of a TV series written and directed by Keith Josef Adkins (Girlfriends tv show) called The Abandon.

 

We've been told there is no audience for a sci-fi show with a black cast and therefore are attempting to shoot & release it ourselves.

 

I am contacting you in hopes that you can forward our indiegogo link for The Abandon (indiegogo.com/theabandon) to members of your community as well as blogs that you use for information updates and bulletins.

 

 

ABOUT THE ABANDON:

The Abandon is a sci-fi TV series.  After a possible alien invasion, five black men discover they may be the last humans on Earth and quickly learn the importance of survival, loyalty and manhood.

 

 

Kendall - early 30s, an unemployed attorney, divorced, but lots of vices

 

Craig - early 30s, a lit professor, calm demeanor

 

Aaron - early 30s, computer engineer, urban flavor

 

Dennis - early 30s, attorney, ladies' man, very smart

 

Jeff - early 30s, graphic designer, intellectual, bohemian

 

 

Friends from college, these five men will also discover why they are being hunted down by an alien species. And why the alien species may have a message that will disrupt the entire universe.

 

The Abandon is inspired by my desire to see black and brown people work in the sci-fi genre. It is inspired by knowing so many black people who deeply love and respect the sci-fi genre and my interest in making them happy.

 

Future episodes will use flashbacks to introduce significant others, family, co-workers, and the hours leading up to the invasion.

 

A LITTLE ABOUT KEITH:

My name is Keith Josef Adkins. I'm an award-winning playwright and screenwriter. Several years ago I worked as TV writer for the very popular show Girlfriends starring Tracee Ellis Ross.  I have pitched ideas to networks and studios and penned a few original pilots.  I even wrote and directed a few short films which screened in Toronto, Berlin and Atlanta.

 

I love sci-fi. I watch stories about UFO sightings and close encounters of the third kind.  Alien and Aliens are two of my favorite films.  Sci-fi provides me the opportunity to imagine a world where race, gender and class are insignificant and the only thing that matters is humanity's responsibility to preserve earth and each other.

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"FREE" PRODUCTION MUSIC

I always get these in my email and have kind of ignored them, but with so many of us involved in creating and producing our own materials maybe some of this production music will be useful.  I am thinking of getting a set just in case.

 

http://www.footagefirm.com/freeacousticproductionmusic.html?utm_source=AcousticMusicGraphicaltoFFOthers&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=AcousticMusicGraphicaltoFFOthers 

 

Maybe it will be of use to someone!

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By JoVE...



If a photo is worth a thousand words, imagine the understanding that can be captured from 10 minutes at 30 frames per second. A scientific journal dedicated to video—a medium seldom seen in peer-reviewed publications—is finding out.

Increasingly, scientists include short video clips when they submit their manuscripts to a journal. But the Journal of Visualized Experiments—JoVE for short—is an online journal where video is the main medium rather than a supplement.

Each JoVE article consists of a short video segment that visually documents the required steps for performing an experiment. The video is supplemented by several paragraphs of peer-reviewed text. JoVE has developed a following in the life sciences, where being able to reproduce the results of an experiment in a timely fashion is a critical component to becoming a successful researcher.

They plan to offer an Applied Physics section July of 2012.Smiley

 

Technology Review: Science Journal Produces a Different Kind of Viral Video
Web site: JoVE.com

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In the wake of the Fukushima nuclear disaster that occurred 15 months ago, the American public would be very displeased to know of the imminent potential for American children to play and frolic on their glowing backyards.  

It’s actually quite comedic how the general consensus has allowed distraction and propaganda to fog the path that will ultimately trace back to the root of the problem.

Once I turn into a radioactive mutant/zombie, maybe my dancing skills will start to improve by 30%.  Finally, I can get that Thriller sequence down like a legendary pro.

http://evilforalltime.blogspot.com/2012/05/contaminated-soil-may-prove.html

 

//////////////////////////////

Enter Kenneth Neal (you can call me Ken):

A multimedia journalist doing my part to promote social, cultural, and class destruction awareness with my blog.

Thank you for your time. If you have any questions after viewing my work, feel free to let me know.


-Kenneth Neal, A Modern Day Abolitionist

 Facebook, "Ken Project-EFAT"

 evilforalltime.com/

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Afro-Futuristic Visions - Supernatural

Afro-Futuristic ViSions -

Supernatural

Although an Afro-Futurist may use terminology to inspire interest and fire (inspiration, zeal) in their readers, DO NOT BE FOOLED. It is with the sincerest heart that their goal is to bring about the natural spontaneity of our being within the framework and outer region of our culture. 
It would be an injustice for an Afro-Futurist to stagnate themselves and their readers with the constraints of language which originally 'impressed' upon them the need to move away from the cultural dogma of science fiction and paranormal. 
An Afro-Futurist does their best to incorporate foundation of their culture with the given tools they have and in most cases been raised in. The Anglish Language. 
It is not our goal to express a hatred nor a disdain for the language unless we make strides to speak our own tongue along with others. Even in such a case, hatred and disdain, only causes structural and organ (sphere) disruption, as seen in the case of those with said 'diseases'. 
One word that seems to cause alot of attraction is SUPERNATURAL. When the average or even 'conscious' person hears this word, immediately there is a feeling of superiority, rush of adrenaline, curiosity and all manner of self-imposed and induced energies that follow. However, I am here to tell you...it is nothing special. Nothing more special than the wind that you cannot see but feel and then reflect on the concept of what is unseen and so and so. 
In my case, I write from experience, the swirl of cycles, the breeze outside my window, the breeze inside my chest, the unfolding of the expression of our organs (spheres) and the movement of our culture within all objects. So basically, the word SUPERNATURAL is like a redbull jolt of bs. Reminds of the scene with Wendy and Prince when she said to him "We do it only to make you feel good." However, it seems we all need a jolt from time to time. 
AND at the same point the following definition will only leave you boxed in!!!!
1.
of, pertaining to, or being above or beyond what is natural; unexplainable by natural law or phenomena; abnormal.
2.
of, pertaining to, characteristic of, or attributed to God or a deity.
3.
of a superlative degree; preternatural: a missile of supernatural speed.
4.
of, pertaining to, or attributed to ghosts, goblins, or other unearthly beings; eerie; occult.

So to end off you can restart a new cycle of thought. Watch your terminology or you may become terminally ill.

Visit http://www.djadjanmedjay.com/ to support my work. Follow my screeches (only small birds tweet) at https://twitter.com/#!/DjaDjaNMedjay

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C-NOT Breakthrough...

Technology Review

TECHNOLOGY REVIEW: In the race to build powerful quantum computers, many groups are competing to build logic gates that can process quantum information and still be connected together on a large scale.


One important question remains unanswered, however: what should the devices use to carry quantum information?


Schemes involving charged particles such as Ion traps, electron circuits and superconductors have long looked promising because the qubits they hold can be easily manipulated with electric and magnetic fields. Charged particles also interact easily with each other in a way that can be made to process data.

The problem, of course, is that stray fields also interact with charged particles, causing the quantum information they carry to leak away. Stray fields litter the universe like the plague and this severely reduces the utility of these types of devices.


One alternative is the humble photon, which is unaffected by stray fields and can travel many kilometres through a waveguide without interacting with the environment.

 

Primer: Controlled NOT gate (Wikipedia)
Physics arXiv: Controlled-NOT gate operating with single photons

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BIG MACHINE REVIEWED ON MONDO ERNESTO

I just remembered another book by a black writer that I reviewed on Mondo Ernesto

BIG MACHINE is by Victor LaValle, who admits to being a horror fan, and lists Stephen King and Ambrose Bierce as influences.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2009

NOT JUST ANY OLD BIG MACHINE

It was the cover of Victor LaValle’s Big Machine that caught my eye. Automatic pistols, cats, ghostly black people, and an array of objects dancing in a white background, under the red, swirly letters. It suggested hardboiled mayhem, but was so un-noir.

It’s the Twenty-First Century, folks. Noir is getting to be cliché. Black translated into French ain’t enough. We need more than darkness. How about some ultraviolet – the invisible light that makes the scorpions glow in the dark? Just a humble suggestion.

Anyway, the flaps and blurbs mentioned Hieronymus Bosch and paranormal investigations – could be kinda weird. Then I read a review that compared it to Ishmael Reed’s Mumbo Jumbo, which I consider to be one the great novels of the Twentieth Century. I ended up plunking down some hard-earned money for it.

It’s not the Mumbo Jumbo of our century – we’ll be lucky if we see such a thing – but I was not disappointed. The range of traditions that LaValle draws upon include Ishmael Reed, Chester Himes, Octavia Butler, and Philip K. Dick. He admits to being a horror fan, uses a quote from John Carpenter’s The Thing as an epigram, and lists Shirley Jackson, T.E.D. Klein, Stephen King, and “my man” Ambrose Bierce as influences. He’s not your typical African American writer, and this book will probably not become an Oprah selection.

Big Machine is the story of Ricky Rice, an ex-junkie janitor, who was raised in a cult that is truly bizarre but disturbingly believable. He is recruited into a group of psychic investigators, because he can hear The Voice. He is drawn into the wars between secret societies that include the one he grew up in. The story tears back and forth through time, revealing him and his world in startling, jagged chunks like brutal time-travel. And where it ends up is far beyond, and more fantastic than I was hoping for. Fans of the science fiction/fantasy/horror megagenre will enjoy the mindblowing conclusion.

The “paranormal” entities in the book are truly something different, have the texture of reality, and stand out in this age of cheap fantasy media overload.

Part of me wonders why Will Smith and Denzel Washington aren’t fighting over the movie rights, but this book digs deep into heroin, race, religion, politics, and other specters that are haunting Twenty-First Century America. It’s scary in a way that “horror” loving pop culture will have a hard time cozying up to. Which makes it a better book, and one to look out for.

http://www.mondoernesto.com/2009/10/not-just-any-old-big-machine.html

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Beamed Up...

Crawling the Jefferies Tube - Captain Montgomery Scott

The ashes of late actor James Doohan, who played chief engineer Montgomery Scott in the original "Star Trek" television series and a series of subsequent films, were on the SpaceX rocket that launched a private spacecraft into orbit this week.

Doohan's character was referenced in the "Beam me up, Scotty" catchphrase associated with "Star Trek."

 

CNN: In the end, it was Scotty who got beamed up

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Physics4All...



We are connected now more than ever before—at every level—as physicists, scientists, members of society, and as humans. The advent of faster travel and instant communication connects people of all backgrounds across national, political, and ethnic borders.

In the modern connected world, physics is no longer an arcane science restricted to those with a PhD: physicists collaborate with biologists, engineers, and economists to help with education, climate science, and energy production. These are issues that affect everyone, and an understanding of physics enables involvement and brings new perspective for the betterment of all.

Physicists have a responsibility not just to discover, but also to share and to educate. Science plays a key role in a connected world, but it is not an automatic one. We must choose to forge the links between science and society, between the lab and the living room, and across the barriers that constantly threaten to divide the world. We must choose to bring physics to all.

 

Society of Physics Students: The SPS Observer


"Education, on the other hand, means emancipation. It means light and liberty. It means the uplifting of the soul of man into the glorious light of truth, the light only by which men can be free. To deny education to any people is one of the greatest crimes against human nature. It is to deny them the means of freedom and the rightful pursuit of happiness, and to defeat the very end of their being. They can neither honor themselves nor their Creator. Than this, no greater wrong can be inflicted; and, on the other hand, no greater benefit can be bestowed upon a long benighted people than giving to them, as we are here this day endeavoring to do, the means of useful education."

 

Frederick Douglass, Blessings of Liberty and Education, Teaching American History.

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Where the Sun Touches the Earth

A Tale of Cats versus Evil

A haughty woman festooned in heavy brass jewelry, the tacky kind, loud, banging and discordant, stands looking at a rhyming dragon who is gazing into a viewing pool with her.

The dragon is an unextraordinary member of his species. His scales are dull, coated in coal dust, his musculature, once mighty has the look of an athlete past his prime; a bit pudgy in the middle and soft overall. His wings, while still mighty from lifting his massive bulk, droop whenever he is on the ground too long and the flesh between the skeletal frame, flap loosely, like poorly hung drapes.

His countenance is one of supreme unhappiness, his fanged head hanging low, nearly dipping in the viewing pool. It would not take much imagination to see him drowning himself. Their hellish surrounds sizzle with fiery tendrils that rise up from the molten earth, a part of the Stygian underworld, rife with the screams of the damned, their cries an unending concerto adding to the misery flowing through the air; surely an unpleasant place, at best.

The woman’s mouth is tight and she speaks through clenched teeth, her displeasure evident as she points her finger directly into the dragon’s smoking visage. He winces and responds. “‘Where the sun touches the Earth.’ That was such a vague clue.” He whimpers. “How was I supposed to know the answer to the riddle was in the Arctic Circle and it mean the aurora borealis?”

Her answer sizzles like a hand on a griddle; a hand held there against its will. “You are supposed to be a Rhyming Dragon, one of the riddle-masters of Stygia. Supposedly one of the finest minds of daemon-kind. Answers are supposed to be your stock in trade.”

“We don’t get National Geographic in Hell. No auroras either. Until last month, we didn’t even get the Internet. Until I checked Wikipedia, I didn’t even know what an aurora was.” He turns his head away looking at an imaginary bit of lint on his tail.

“No matter, the Conjunction of Worlds is already taking place. Can you take me to where the Goddess will arrive?”

“Yes, I can, but we may already be too late.”

“Hope for your sake, we’re not.” She climbs onto the neck of the dragon and he wheels away into the Stygian sky. The Woman in Brass, gestures and a portal begins to form in the distance. The demon climbs before diving through the portal into the Harrowing, the voidway between worlds.

Semii jumps up onto the desk of the Man and surveys his work. With his tail waving back and forth, his posture spoke eloquently of impatience, hinting anxiety, his tail stiff with the very tip flickering back and forth.

The digital representation of the goddess Bas-Tet on the widescreen monitor is sublime perfection. Semii presses his cheek against the screen, basking in the bliss that is Bas-Tet. Meanwhile his brothers are outside standing watch, just in case the Evil is able to detect what they were doing before they were ready. Fat Boy positively glows with power and Big Red looks as menacing as Semii has ever seen him. The two of them are outside watching the Ways hoping to see anyone approaching. But the most dangerous task of freeing the goddess would still fall to him.

“Man, will this work? We don’t have much time.” The Man was a genius with computers, but revealing to him the secrets of magic may have been too much. The battle against the forces of Evil was supposed to remain part of the Secret Lives of Cats.

“You know I have a name?” The Man looks at the Cat he believed was HIS pet only to discover their roles were actually reversed and it was he who is being guarded and protected from an unknown threat, his cat does not deem him important enough to know about.

“Yes, you have a name and we are forbidden to use it. Names have power. We never use yours to prevent Evil from gaining control over you. Have you finished the task at hand?”

“Semii, this digital representation is an exact reproduction of the piece of wall at the museum. I have used over fifty high resolution images. If your magic is as good as you say, this image will be perfect.”

Walking across the keyboard as he had done so many times in the past, Semii stood and nuzzled the man under the chin. “You know I can’t let you remember any of this. She would never forgive me if she knew you were aware of our Secret.”

“If you erase my memory, how will I know if this works?”

“If you look up at sunrise and the chariot of the Sun God Ra does not appear, you will know something is wrong.”

“No pressure, huh?”

“No. Not a bit. You may pet me now. Mmmm. You will forget this when I am gone. Life will return to what it was before. My brothers will keep you safe while I am gone.”

“So you guys are doing things like this all the time? Saving the world and preventing Evil?”

“Yes. Of course. We have done this for your entire existence. Without Cats, Humanity would not even exist. You would have starved to death overcome by Rats, Ignorance or some other dreaded catastrophe. You may thank me with an extra treat from the special stash on the top of the refrigerator when I return.”

“Have I ever helped you before?”

“No. But if this works, I may call upon you again. But it will remain our secret.”

“Good luck, Cat.”

Semii jumps up into the lap of his Man and waves his tail creating the sigil of Horus in the air. “Thank you, Man.” With a bounding leap, he jumps directly toward the monitor and passes through the glass with only the tiniest of ripples. The Man smiles, shakes his head and falls asleep.

The cat lands on the tundra grass and flexes his toes into the tough permafrost. Nasty place. Glad I don’t live here.  He looks up and sees the moon already deeply in eclipse. With his legs flashing in the fading moonlight he runs forward into the night. The aurora forms in the distance, first tiny wisps, growing stronger with each passing minute.

“Hurry, my champion, the time draws near, I need you to anchor my passage.”

“I am coming, my Goddess. As fast as my frozen body will allow. Was there no other point you could have come through? Someplace with a tropical climate? You do remember we are descended from desert dwellers.”

“Yes, my child, I do. Please forgive my imposition. If we escape, I promise we will go somewhere warm. Beware, two Stygians approach.”

“I sense them, but they will not stop me from arriving in time.” The night lit up as an explosion of fiery venom shook the ground near the running cat.

The dragon swooped out of the night sky, his passenger clinging tight to his neck. “You missed.”

“Mistress, I am a Rhymer, not a fighter. My venom glands don’t get much use.”

“Then perhaps you would make a better floor covering than Rhyming dragon.” A second and more accurate burst of venom flies from the dragon’s mouth. Only a split-second bound saves Semii from disintegration. The shockwave from the exploding venom sends him flying into the frozen grass, inert and still.

“Land there.” The dragon lands and his body glows with heat. His feet sink into the permafrost as he melts the ground around him. His passenger, wearing the skin of a human woman, rises from his prostrated neck and lightly floats just above the icy ground. As she walks across the ice, the aurora grows brighter and the sky sizzles with electrical energy.

She find Semii lying on the ground with smoke rising from his tiny body. “I found you, you little bastard. Your trick was good, but it wasn’t enough. I will stop your goddess and her kin from returning. This is the ascendancy of daemons, no gods need apply.”

She picked his tiny body and looked into his one open eye as she began to squeeze his neck, choking him. She rejoices inwardly as his lifeforce slowly fades away. He spasms one last time and then hangs still in her hand. Curiosity overwhelms her and she brings his tiny body close to her face, amazed that something so tiny could be so much trouble.

Semii suddenly struck out, slashing the arm, face and the eye of the woman, flipping about and landing on his feet to streak away into the tundra grass. The woman screams and clutches her face with one hand. With the other she sends forth bolts of power that landed wildly onto the tundra.

“You don’t know much about Cats do you?” The dragon’s voice was quiet. “You know they have nine lives, right? Do they even brief you guys before they send you into the world anymore?”

“That’s a myth.”

“So are we. That’s gonna leave a nasty scar. Wounds from Cats never heal.”

A furious scream rises up from the tundra as the moon darkened completely and the aurora lit up the sky, swirling and crackling and off in the distance touches the Earth, just for a moment. Leaping into the arms of his goddess, a cat rejoices.

Where the Sun Touches the Earth (Cats versus Evil) © Thaddeus Howze 2012, All Rights Reserved

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