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Month: February 2022

Nobody loves you when you’re sixty seven. Or so I’ve been told.

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Many times by the people I’m related to. Just because you get let go from your job for sleeping with an underage patient. That’s the last time I’ll work at that horse orphanage.

In other news, more sunshine in today’s forecast! It has to be some kind of personal bias that I’m just seeing so much sunshine in February where I would usually associate the month with grey, drab, dreary clouds and a sense of desperation, creeping towards out right depression. But nope! Sun, warm sunny sunshine, more often than not (this year). Later sunsets and lots of chilly blue sky.

Saturday of a long weekend. It used to be that we had more options than time in the day to do all that we wanted. So obviously I finally have skates of my own now, and the rinks are shut, and a warm front is moving in later on today. That is ok. I bought my skates for the long haul, not just for this season. Now I can go skate with the kids whenever, year over year, along as we have suitable ice and the desire to go skate. If I had my way, I’d love to go back to cross country skiing and downhill skiing. Both I haven’t been fortunate enough to do in a number of years. Also, sneak this in here too, as far as ‘sporting equipment’ is concerned, I’d also like to get a modest set of golf clubs too. I had a fantastic morning golfing with my brothers last summer, on what ended up being the hottest day of the year, in August. It was a hoot! So sweaty though, oh lord above it was grotesque! I could have wrung out my socks it was so damn hot. It was in the early forties Celcius. Oof! I imagine the peripheral presence of the winter Olympics has given me the bug to go back outdoors to ski and/or skate. I can cross country ski at the farm, so that would be the cheaper option. No lift tickets or seasons passes required. Which would save me a non trivial amount of money, after the purchase of skis, poles, boots and bindings for either version.

So, that last chapter of the series huh? It came across that she was only having a nightmare right? It had to feel visceral, but not linger on being some kind of torture/rape fetish porn. I tried to intercut with the actual medical team to blunt the horrors that Mimi was dreaming through. Not sure if it was as successful as I had hoped. But on the upside, I don’t think we’ll have any more dream sequences of a sexual nature. There was one other violently sexual story, early on in book one, and that ended in brutal retribution. So not a common theme, or exploration in my writing, thankfully.

Isolation, depression, desperation: these are themes I follow more closely. I tagged the story with a trigger warning, so I hope that stopped anyone from stumbling across this chapter that was upsetting, unbeknownst to any new comers. That’s not how a typical short of mine plays out. However, more horror elements are coming, plus scenes of space battles, and people will die, so that’s par for the course, not so much the sexual violence.

“Good morning, and how is my patient today? Hm…”

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“Oh now don’t get up Mimi.” Chuckles the man to himself. “I realize you’re catatonic in your stasis sleeve.” He says walking around her as she is stuck hanging frozen in her pod. He comes to stand face to chest with Mimi as her enormous body hangs several inches in the air, suspended in her metallic egg shaped pod. The biological ingredients of the slurry she’s encased in keep her body clean as well as the cells fed, without having to run a more intrusive feeding tube, or catheters for waste removal. The magazine like structure where she is warehoused during the transit from near Earth to Pluto is one long thin room, lined with hundreds if not thousands of similar stasis pods that extend out away from her into darkness. The long hall sloping upwards like a giant wheel seen from the inside. Each one of the sleeves containing other members of her fire team or tanker unit swinging and swaying gently in the dimly lit room. The closest source of light is a sickly green glow from below the dirty floor grates. The grime covered bulbs burning a small trail of oily smoke upwards leaving a thick dark soot upon the wall opposite her. There is motion in front of her eyes as Mimi stares at the man, his breath begins to fog up her clam shell glass door. Besides the man, and the endless rows of sleeping infantrymen, the two are effectively alone. The man of medium build, and bushy brown hair looks vaguely familiar, but it’s really hard to tell from the distortion of the clam shell doors, and his fogging breath. “Have I got some fun in-store for us today Mimi. Oh baby, you’re a big girl. I’m going to have some fun!” The man shouts as he turns in a circle in front of the pod. His soft moccasins make no noise on the open metal grate floors. The green sickly light of the room sparkles off of all the full stasis pods, catching on angles and all of the beveled curves. The man is clapping and hopping about excitedly. As the fog from his breath begins to recede against the glass Mimi can see the man wheel over a cart full of tools and surgical implements. Her heart rate begins to increase. Inside the stasis pod the paralyzed Mimi begins to panic. “Oh Mimi, we are going to have so – much – fun.” The man grins widely, as he begins to open up her pod. The soft hiss of escaping gas, mixing with the rank smell of his hot breath crawls deeply up inside her nasal cavity, to cling cloyingly in her throat. “Don’t worry baby doll, daddy’s got some new tricks today.” He whispers thickly into her ear.

“Uh doctor Tam, we have increased brain activity with Tanker number four eleven, uh, Mimi. Mimi Waters ma’am. Her synapses are going ape shit again.” Says the hunched over orderly in the medical bay. His desk a mess of papers and charts and data logs. Infront of him is a bank of seven monitors all displaying the brain activity of a full platoon of infantrymen aboard the Righteous Chord. A shuffle of papers, and the rustling of pants is all the man hears in response. A moment later he can feel the warmth of an agitated body beside him at the desk. “Pull her up to the main screen. Can we add in an overlay of the last incident. When was that, can I get a time stamp please?” Barks doctor Tam into the general melee of the room. Someone from nearby shouts out. “According to her helmet camera data from the tanker unit she is in stasis inside reads that she only just finished one about an hour ago ma’am.” The response is quick and to the point. “Christ, an hour? What is the actual? Please. Mr… um… Deakins.” Doctor Tam pauses for a breath to allow the tech at the monitoring station to bring up her data. “Actual official time stamp from central monitoring is fifty seven minutes, and two four seconds ma’am.” He says. “Less than an hour inbetween, Jesus Christ. Is this across the board, or only a few rare cases.” Dr Tam asks into the room, to no one in particular. “Looks to be across the board ma’am.” Says Deakins flatly. “Fuck!” Shouts dr Tam. She leans over Deakins shoulder to turn the monitor towards herself to get a better angle. “Can I get a visual of the patient on screen, and bring up all of the play backs of the brain activity. Over lay them all together at once. Same start times and just let them play over in real time with this new incident please.” She says calmly. “Now we watch and wait, and see if we learn anything new.” The doctor pulls a chair close as her whole teams stops to watch Mimi’s face, a frozen rictus of anguish, fear and absolute terror. “Map any micro expressions, or eye movement. I need something from all this, anything at all!” Barks doctor Tam. As she settles in, and steals herself to watching someone in total paralysis have a waking nightmare, and brain damaging migraine combo, for the thousandth time in just weeks.

With a loud creak the bushy haired man cranks the clam shell door open further than it needs to go. Standing in the open door way the man leers inside. “That’s it honey girl, let me have a good look at you. Oh my, we have so much to work with!” He stamps his feet and dances a silly jig like a toddler. “I just don’t know where to start with you today. So many choices, so many rock hard, throbbing choices! You don’t know what you do to me Mimi. If you only knew!” He chirps in a sing song voice. The man’s eyes gaze over Mimi’s nude figure lingering upon the under hang of her breasts and her flat muscular abdomen. He reaches out with both hands to run his palms over her stomach. “Do you know what I really want to try today Mimi?” He whispers as he rests his face against the cool flesh of her belly. Turning his head to rest an ear and a cheek against her tummy he looks up at the frozen face above. He uses a finger to run lazy circles around her belly button before he places several fingers of his right hand into her belly button. “I had a dream last night about you Mimi. I did something naughty. But it felt – so – good!” He says laughing. “You’ll never guess what it was. Not in a million years. You’ll never guess!” He sings aloud.

Mimi is frozen in place as the man before her rests his head upon her belly, she can feel his long bony fingers tracing lazy circles around her belly. With a pinch she can feel him push several fingers into her belly button, as he plays at his version of pillow talk. She is angry, she is violated, she is totally unable to move, blink, talk or do anything while in stasis, and she screams internally for what feels like days on end. With the removal of tension from her belly she can see the doctor pull back. He’s reaching over to the wheely cart behind him, the selection of tools just out of focus from her field of vision. He is talking quietly, Mimi can’t make out what he’s saying to himself.

“The thing is my lovely, we’ve been doing this for years now, and we’ll just keep on doing this for years to come. But the fact is I need something more. I need something new. Variety, my lovely Mimi, is the spice of life. We’ve tried every thing of a natural sort, but now I think we need to get creative Hmm. Yes, yes we do. Ah here it is, you were hiding from me!” The man sneers at his tray of tools. “Trusty scalpel was being sneaky.” He reaches down to pick up the instrument. The sharp edges glint in the oozy green light. The man’s bushy brown hair is now damp, as though he is sweating from exertion or from heightened arousal. “Here’s my plan my lovely, I’m going to cut a one inch hole in your belly, and then I’m going to penetrate you until I spackle your guts from the inside! How’s that for something new!” He squeals in delight as he leans forward to his sloppy work.

Mimi catches the glint of a scalpel in the putrid light of the room. The man is so excited he jolts about animatedly. Did he just say spackle my guts? She thinks. Oh what the fuck is this. With a hideous jab she feels the blade glide through the tissue and muscle of her abdomen, pain blooms from the deep wound. If she weren’t paralyzed she’d have crushed this man’s skull several times over, since he began to visit her in stasis weeks ago. Through glassy eyes she can make out the shape of the man as he moves his cart closer to the open clamshell doors of her pod. Clumsily he climbs up, and begins to pull himself out of his pants and shuffles forward towards her. Pain explodes in her abdomen, as the brown haired man hunches to his work.

“Oh Mimi, oh, oh Mimi, do you know what this needs?” The man giggles as he splashes onto her exposed intestine. “Tomorrow, we use fire!” He laughs, and laughs, and laughs as he wipes himself off and retreats down the hallway into the distance.

Over the video screens doctor Tam can see Mimi’s face scrunch and pulse as her brain waves skyrocket. In the middle of taking a note her wrist communicator pings a notification from both admiral Garneau and his lead advisor Gerald. An emergency meeting has just been booked for the admirals ready room in a few minutes time.

A commotion at the lab doors breaks out as a team of six technicians drag two badly beaten men into the room by their arm pits. Doctor Tam looks at the message from the CO and shouts over the din inside the lab. “Excuse me, Ladies and Gents, we are working here. These two men are to accompany me to my next meeting, so do be kind, yes?” She shouts menacingly. The gathered technicians slowly settle down into a more subdued state. The obvious adrenaline rush gives way to the shakes, and a few of them sit down as they succumb to the feeling. Turning away from the younger portion of her team doctor Tam goes back to standing watch over the monitors, quietly.

“What was that! Did you see that? Was that a spike, report to me people. Did we catch that? Is it distortion from the camera, is it parallax?” Shouts doctor Tam to her room full of medical staff and technicians. “We have it ma’am!” Chimes in Deakins. “She spiked her neural load so high it was off the charts, she nearly had an out of body experience. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking in there. Whatever it is, it’s fucking awful, ma’am” Deakins says quietly to the doctor seated behind him. “That Mr Deakins is the under statement of the fucking century!” Scoffs doctor Tam. “I need a report of this to take with me to the SLT meeting.” As she walks toward the doors out to the lifts a petite woman hands her the print out of the case studies and has the two semi conscious men in tow.

Chapter Twenty Five: Ghost of the Dirty Starling.

Here, on Route 66, we talk about Bruno-no-no-no.

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Have you ever done the route 66 drive from Nevada through Arizona to get to the Grand Canyon, talk about a whole lot of nothing. I get where Radiator Springs got its art direction from, because in mid August it was all a ghost town. Oh and the asphalt melts and ruins your tires in the heat, so there’s that to look forward to. What a waste of time that was. I think we stopped for gas at one point and it felt like The Hills Have Eyes out there. One Yike! Awarded. Zero stars do not reccomend. Grand Canyon on the other hand, giant hole in the ground. Absolutely lovely. Managed to capture some incredible photos. Which isn’t hard because of the scale and the depth of field in your photos. No fog banks to ruin your visit. My wife went to Machu Pichu in Peru many, many years ago, and did that hill climb and the fog was so thick she couldn’t see anything. Had to go back the next day, climb it all over again to get a photo that had any depth to it.

So Encanto is making the rounds at our house these days, out performing Moana, Frozen and Frozen Two by an order of magnitude. I must just be getting old as I find the sound mixing on the dialogue to be dog shit. I have to turn on the closed captioning, because it’s all just a thick mumble to me. I am, to be honest, hard of hearing from childhood, so that plays a role, I’m sure. But come on! Why have the music blaring, if people talk in a growled mumble even in childrens movies. The people are animated, shouldn’t they talk animatedly (not cartoonish but excitedly and with Em-pha-sis) enunciate more for those of us in the back. Probably why theater folks don’t do movies, they talk to reach the back of the room, which was how I was taught. So the moody, growler gets lost in my ear.

I’m a big fan of Luisa and her song, it’s a real banger. They all have lovely songs. Didn’t realize Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99! Was Mirabel. It’s rather lovely, if hard to follow because I can’t hear Abuela talk at the beginning, and through other parts of the film. A good time had by all otherwise.

We just had another 9 or 10 inches of snow after yesterday’s rains. We lost power at 2:00am on Thursday morning and didn’t get it back until just before 5:00pm, so that was fun. School cancelled due to inclement weather, and a portion of our town, us included with no power for nearly 15 hrs. It was a day. Kids took it well considering. But the fireplace came to our rescue yet again, so glad we put that in when we renovated nearly a decade ago. Well worth the footprint it takes up in the room. So I have spent another seventy five minutes shoveling snow again today. Next year, my Christmas/birthday present to myself will be a new to me, used snowblower. I broke my favourite shovel this morning, so I’m without proper tools if we get even more this month or next. Gah! Sick of the snow by now. It was eight degrees above zero yesterday, and kinda nice (even if rainy) and now we are twenty degrees or more colder today, plus the bitter wind chill.

Need to rest my shoulder, and I hope to start a new chapter in my ongoing series today. Still dealing with the loss of my Expanse series.

I keep thinking I want to read the grapes of wrath, which I opted not to read in high school, because I read of mice and men, and the odyssey and the iliad instead. I think I might have missed out on something there. It’s not what I usually read (science fiction or fantasy) but I think it has something to say that I want to hear. One thing I did do when I was out of Artschool and went to university, was I went to the campus book store and found all the sci-fi that was part of a Lit course, bought and read those when I found my Business admin or Sociology texts too dry. Although the abnormal behaviour Sociology stuff was entertaining and enriching. I found De Bono’s six hats to be kind of a pseudo science take on common sense. But whatever. There was considerable overlap between the two subjects. Time studies on manufacturing factors heavily in both streams. So I could use texts for one stream as sources for papers in the other. Less reading for info, more sci-fi reading for fun! Go me!

And on the sixty fifth day, He said, Oh – Lord, I have finished reading the last book in the series, and was at once, both elated, and forlorn.

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For it was a good series, of both length and depth, but now it is over, and where there used to stand a long winding road full of opportunities there is now only the hard cold truth of the back cover, closed and defined. Like a stone rolled over the door to seal in the freshness. I am sad. I do however have a new book to read, a part of another series I enjoy, plus next month John Scalzi’s new book will drop and I’ll likely enjoy that one too.

I wasn’t going to talk about books, I had something else on my mind which I was gearing up for today, but now that the power has been out since 2:00am, school is cancelled, it’s going to rain like cats and dogs all day, I had to change gear. I imagine power will be back some time between 9:00am and 12:00pm, so it won’t be an entirely lost work day, but with the kiddos home it’ll be a wash. No tv, no microwave, no toaster or fridge, no dvd player, and no furnace. Could potentially be a trying day for us. Oh joy.

Happy I managed to get through so much work on Monday through Wednesday. Could have been a disaster if I’d left it until later in the week.

Now that I think on it, I can’t recall – at all, what I was going to lead with today. Not even a scintilla of an idea of what it was. I know that yesterday afternoon I thought it was funny. But it totally escapes me now.

Oh, to be fair I was reading the Expanse book series, if anyone wanted to know. Book nine finished it all off. Although I did see that they have collected some peripheral short stories from the universe into a book, so perhaps we’re not quite done yet. We’ll see. I liked how it came together, so maybe I’ll leave well enough alone? Or not. I don’t have any other science fiction series that I have been following along with besides Matha Wells’ Murder Bot Diaries (which is also fantastic) oh and Mary Robinette Kowals alternate history A Lady Astronaut Novel series.

I have done some considerable thinking about my next few chapters. Was planning to write one today, but – kids home all day due to inclement weather. Stay tuned, things should get interesting!

I read somewhere once that a man could eat sixty four chicken nuggets before dying.

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Obviously that’s not true!, we’ve all been horrified watching a hot dog or pie eating contest where they gorge themselves something awful. I can’t imagine how awful those last seven hot dogs must feel going in. I imagine the expulsion process afterward would be lengthy and unpleasant. A real sight to behold if you like horrible, terrible, nasty no good things. Blargh! I wonder what sort of mental prep you have to do in order to be able to do that to yourself on a consistent basis. You know leading up to it they have to practice. You couldn’t go months on end in between competitions and not train at all. Your body wouldn’t be able to take the stress. Relax this, hold that, bend at the hips, don’t do x, y or z up to two days before hand. It must be a whole regimen involved in hurting yourself that badly. Boggles the mind.

I just sent off another round of tweaks so I expect an hour or so before I hear back, potentially. So I thought I’d write up a quick how do you do, grab some breakfast then take a load of stuff out to my shop for a quick task. Whether or not I can finish the quick task as quickly as I think I can remains to be seen. Time will tell.

Are you people out there watching Summer House at all? What a mess. The people that is. The house they all share is lovely. Each season it seems to get bigger and bigger. I remember the first season when they all drank Twisted Tea like it was water. Would not want to feel like they do the day after they raged well into the wee hours of the morning. I feel hung over if I’m up too late just watching a movie, let alone drinking a 2-4 worth of alcoholic beverages. I can’t party like I used too. Even then, back in the day, I wouldn’t do a 2-4 in a day. Yikes! Red flag, red flag.

Sixty three thousand four hundred eighty seven minutes…

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Or however the song goes. Another busy one today ladies, gents and those whom wish to remain nameless. Have been going non stop since eight am. Got a few more PSD’s to build and place and my last instore project for the day can go off for review. Had to call in to a supplier to figure out a tricky die line today. I just can’t seem to figure out how they do it, given the amount of material we have to use. My spatial awareness is usually pretty good, but this one feels as though it needs to fold through another dimension in order to work. Maybe I’ve brained to hard this weekend and I’m feeling foggy or dim witted today. The vendor will ship a hard copy to me so I can assemble it first hand and see what’s what. That should help out alot. I have seen a fair number of odd shapes but I can usually figure them out in my head. I even took to cutting one out of construction paper, and I still can’t see how they are doing it. But one straight from the source may correct for any of my errors.

Another beauty of a day outside, with lots of sunshine. Nice to have it, as tomorrow and the day after the temperature will sky rocket and it’ll absolutely piss down for two days. Just you watch, it’ll snow a few days later, and we’ll be right back to where we are, but with 100% more ice!

Wish I had more to tell on my book, but worked hard on Sunday, and now have paid projects to keep me busy for a while.

**Added note : worked right through until 5:00pm for the first time in a while. Had to stop for an hour for school pick up, but otherwise a full day’er. Woah! With phone calls and mail drop I was having office job flash backs. Except for almost no interruptions when at home. Not even a single delivery today either! A text from a neighbour and one from my mum, but otherwise laser focused today.

Also it is Taco Tuesday, so I have that to look forward to this evening. Even if I am craving pizza for one reason or another. Hard to go wrong with a zesty taco! Which reminds me, it has been far too long since I have been able to indulge in a hefty chimmichonga from ‘Made in Mexico’ out of Newmarket. Damn they make a fine Chimmy! So good. You could club a man to death with it, they are so voluptuous!

Sixty two: Microns versus thousandths of an inch.

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Welcome back to Monday! New week new me, am I right!?! I’m positive but I’m not that optimistic. Pragmatic might suit me better. Looking for the hidden surprise while allowing myself to enjoy things as they are. Like – expect the worst, but enjoy what comes to you.

Anyway, I’ve just gone and sprung an appointment on myself for early today so I’ll need to keep this short.

Hey! Did you see that I wrote about 3000 words of short stories yesterday? Nice. Haven’t had that kind of output for a single day in more than a year. Had a bit of umph to try a third but got caught out with a possible Cinderella Story for the Cincinnati Bengals. But – they botched it, so. Whatever. Had a great bowl of chili though. So good!

“They are absolutely going to crucify us if word of this ever gets out.”

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Groans Piotr to Brian through the partition between their computer terminals. “Oh, I have no illusions that we aren’t going to wind up with bullets in our heads after we complete the upload of this program. Believe you, me.” Barks Brian in response. “You didn’t list crimes against humanity on your CV I see.” Laughs Piotr in a strained voice. “Oh it says here you were convicted of War Crimes, care to tell us more about that?” Mocks Brian with a twinge of pain in his voice.

The two have been sequestered in a private work room on the command decks only accessible by the admiral of the Company fleet himself. The spacious room, meant for tactical weapons strategy teams to develop firing solutions in the event of an or ital ship to ship battle, has become their adhoc work station, and prison cell. Meant to take a staff of twelve the room is broad but low ceilinged. With twelve combat terminals and high powered integrated computers built to process millions of points of data near instantaneously. They have matching cots, and a portable head bolted into the floor so that they can sleep, bathe and relieve themselves without ever having to leave the room. The only interruptions coming from the meal service that swings by three times a day. Bringing in trays of food and removing used utensils, and empty bulbs of fluids. The meal bots surreptitiously runs full body scans on both men to maintain a medical record of their health while sequestered under duress.

A massive portable sensor array is stored in the room along with them. At once monitoring their every move as well as prepping itself to broadcast the final solution program code out to every nanobot in the fleet associated with the heavy infantrymen currently in stasis aboard The Righteous Chord and other vessels in the fleet. Sleeves of people who are technically still alive, but are stored away – dead in the water.

Brian is seated behind his side of the partition with his monitor obscured by a blanket. An added step to make sure both men were not observing each others code, so that they can in turn review the others product knowing it is entirely different from their own. They both opted to write their own version of the programming code for the nanotech update, and then swap it out daily between themselves to review it. In doing so they could check for errors, and find the most robust solution to their problems without influencing each other in the process of problem solving. One who tended towards brute force and the other on finesse and subtlety. Sometimes talking through it line by line, rubber ducking each other to make sure it all makes sense in the review stage. A constant pull between wanting to stay alive through the impending battle, and anger and hatred towards having to wipe out the humanity of four thousand people trapped in stasis hell. It was almost an elegant way of killing four thousand of your closest friends, team mates and colleagues. Or so the SLT was trying to make them believe.

The clicking and clacking of the keyboards was a steady cacophony most days. There were just so many variables to content with. Several times the two men had threatened to mutiny in order to obtain some outside help from the original authors of the nanotech coding which they were so familiar with. Piotr was by far more proficient in small edits, but Brian was able to distill broad ideas down into concise if- then, and/or statements.

“How do we account for the replication process? Not all of the fire teams nor tankers are the same size. Hell their BMI’s are different. So are their metabolisms. I’m not even certain at what percentage we need to reach for this to be effective? How do we tell it to stop at a nearly unlimited set of upper limits for four thousand individual cases?” Shouts Brian frustratedly, after slapping his desk hard, causing his palm to go numb. Piotr leans back in his chair, cracking his vertebrae and shoulders in the process. “What do you mean? We go the full 100%. Right? We’re killing them once spiritually, no need to kill them physically too by adding in errors or gaps in service or response time, right? Right?” Says Piotr flatly, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He hated these asides, and pow wows that Brian insisted on every time he had a surge of remorse. It was slowing them down, and was adding fodder to the ‘put a bullet in their head’ camp that held their lives in their hands just outside the room doors twenty feet away. “I know you want to go the full 100%, I do, and I understand why. But we have to leave some room for their humanity. Don’t we? Give us a chance to bring them back from the brink?” Garbles Brian as his head rests in his arms on the table. “I couldn’t agree with anything less than 98%, if I’m being honest. That’s about the 2% +/- margin of error in the replication rates of our nanobots. Anything less and you’re dooming them all, and us to physical death.” Says Piotr from his reclined position. He stands up, groaning with the strain. And walks somberly over to the singular window that spans one wall of the room. The vast empty blackness of space staring back at him. The dim glow reflecting his own haunted visage back at him, only with a blue-green tint from the concrete glass.

“I know that Piotr, I do. But I have to hold out hope that I can get Mimi back. She deserves the chance, even if it’s a small one.” Moans Brian, overwhelmed with grief – again. “We have no idea what will happen to them with a one hundred percent nanobot take over anyway. It’s never been tried. We have strict rules regulating this stuff. It took a war to allow us to boost the regular dose at orientation into the Company up from two to five percent. That level of integration with the weapons systems has not exactly been field tested rigorously. We’re all just experimental monkeys here man. Fuck.”

Chapter Twenty Four: Ghost of the Dirty Starling.

“Good morning doc, how are we looking today?”

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Asks Commanding officer Austenmire quietly. Her voice carries loudly anyway inside the mostly still science lab aboard the Righteous Chord.  “We are still holding, nothing much has changed. Well, beyond the fire teams and tankers getting worse and worse as the days go by. But sure. Mostly the same.” Croaks the tired doctor standing at her work station which is littered with reports and old bulbs of coffee. “So what then, in your opinion doctor Tam is the aftermath of this going to be?” Austenmire replies as she pulls out a chair from a nearby work station to take a seat in the quiet lab. Pushing aside a tray littered with pipettes and petri dishes full of a growth medium or reagents. “Do you want my ‘official’ position or can I speak freely?” Dr Tam’s face is ashy and the colour has long drained out of it. Her hair hangs lank and limp. She’s bone weary and exhausted but pushing through via sheer force of will alone. Her team has taken to sleeping in supply closets or underneath their wheelie cart work stations in order to work the problem around the clock. Austenmire takes a moment to take in all of the clutter and the remnants of chaos in the room before responding. For a brief moment her eyes sweep across the room, catching glimpses of sleeping technicians hiding in the dark corners of the cold white room. “Give it to me straight doctor. I don’t want any bullshit. Lord knows exactly what we’re heading into with this fight. I have to know, will these people be ready to fight come day one?” The question is so softly spoken, the last syllables float off Austenmire’s lips like a puff of smoke. “No chance. Not a single fucking chance.” The defeat in the doctors voice drips with shame and impotent anger. Austenmire asks. “Tell me why. Go through the problem beat by beat. Tell me everything we know up until now, so that I can talk to Admiral Garneau and the rest of the Senior Leadership Team so that we can adjust or adapt while we still can. We have four weeks at least to work something out. So lay it on me Dr Tam. I have to have a starting point to work from.” Her voice rising into a raspy whisper. Dr Tam runs her fingers through her hair, and takes a breath to wipe her eyes. With a heavy sign, and a long drawn out exhalation the doctor replies. “What we do know is, the fire teams and tankers are in an interrupted stasis, yes?” They nod in unison. “The interruptions are essentially migraines that are so debilitating they are causing lesions on the brain. We are seeing similar patterns across every team in stasis, both here on the Righteous Chord and on all the accompanying vessels. The migraines are happening more often, and for longer periods. Due to the nature of stasis, these are like waking nightmares that feel – physically, akin to burning alive while trapped paralyzed in a coffin. Imagine the worst headache you’ve ever had, add in auras, light sensitively, noise sensitivity, and due to the lesions, nerve damage close to the sensation of burning to round it all off. Several times day and night, day after day. We can’t seem to wake them up. Not with chemicals, not by decanting them, not with surgery, not with physical force. These people are fucked. Totally, completely fucked. If the brain and nerve damage weren’t enough, we have nanotech super soldiers in tanks that are most likely bat shit fucking insane. IF, and I do mean if, in the slightest sliver of a single percentage point, we could stop it, you couldn’t treat any single one of them with our best therapies to make them even passably normal in the time frame we have. We have at best four thousand insane highly trained soldiers who won’t be with it enough to wipe their own asses. Is that going to help you CO Austenmire?” She snarls through gritted teeth. “That will be quite enough Dr Tam. I can take this information and we will discuss it with the SLT, and will get back to you as soon as we are able.” With a curt nod Austenmire stands up and leaves the quiet lab under a pall of silence.

As the doors close before her the lab slowly starts to stir back to life. The whisper yelled report from Dr Tam has awakened many of the medical technicians that were sleeping inside the room. The murmur of sparse conversations brings dr Tam out of her spiral of misery. “Listen up! These units are the linchpin of our military action. I need ideas. Anything at all, be it stupid, crazy, unethical, ridiculous. I don’t care. We’re in the shit here people!” She shouts, as spittle flecks land on the monitor beside her. Around the room there is a flurry of activity. People diving for notebooks and old print outs. Others are frantically searching through text books and the data sets they have been analyzing. There are shouts from the gathered crowd, as the side doors open and more medical staff come into the room. The call for ideas, no matter how plausible has caused a new wave of energy to build up among the tired and exhausted medical team. A small woman standing well back from doctor Tam shout out. “I overheard that the armorers are going over the programming code for extraneous data, or corrupted copies. We should get them in here to report on it. Maybe the nanotech is bad? Or maybe the programming was sabotaged? I don’t know!” The petite technician is tasked with connecting with the armorers to get that report asap. The lab is a chaotic hive of activity. In the excitement a white board is wheeled out into the room and people grab markers and pens alike, to scribble down their ideas. Nothing is off limits, and no one will be reprimanded for outrageous suggestions. The unspoken rule for punishing stupid comments is indefinitely lifted, and the room blooms full of ideas.

Several decks below the medical labs in the cafeteria a petite woman in a blue jumpsuit approaches a gathered huddle of men and woman at a large table. “Excuse me – excuse me!” She blurts out, her cheeks turning pink with the attention from the crowd. “Doctor Tam needs to meet with Piotr and Brian from armory team fourteen. Are any of you he? Or them?” She asks. The gathered group shake their heads and turn back to their meals and conversations. “It’s important. Tell them Dr Tam needs to see them immediately about their breakthrough!” She shrieks, as the frustration of being ignored begins to settle over her. She walks around the table, poking people in the back, and trying to get an ID on the men she needs from the gathered group. While she is frantically searching the shift change buzzer sounds and the room empties out.people from all sixty tables file out of the massive room in clusters of two, threes or more. From far across the cafeteria Brian turns to Piotr to whisper. “What break through is she talking about?” Piotr shrugs and pulls a face. “I have no idea, we did the visual inspection together. We ran the data through our pattern matching algorithms and got nothing. Bubkus.” The two slink out of the cafeteria skirting the raging woman in blue medical gear. They walk back to their crew quarters, as questions begin to build around them. Pointing fingers, and turned faces as the two men pass by. Communicators ping and chirp in the halls. After several minutes of walking their way to their dorm the two men are jumped by a group of men dressed in too large coveralls, specks of blue can be seen in the ensuing tussle. Standing at the back of the fight scene is a petite woman in medical scrubs pointing at Piotr and Brian. She steps forward into the fray, as the larger male tech’s grab hold of the now sufficiently beaten, and subdued armorers Piotr and Brian. She taps their carotid artery’s in sequence with an air powered syringe and the limp bodies of the two men are carried out of the dry dock and up to the labs, several decks above for questioning.

In the fleet admiral’s ready room a new discussion regarding the state of their fighting force is underway. Admiral Garneau is seated at the head of the table, with his right hand man seated close by, his grey moustache twitching as he listens. A soft chime rings from Gerald’s wrist comm’s causing him to raise an eyebrow. With a long breath he exhales, his large belly straining the buttons of his custom jumpsuit. CO Austenmire has the floor. During a brief pause after the opening statement by the Admiral she has taken up a position at the back of the room in front of a large view screen. With the lights dimming, she clears her throat. “Ahem. Ladies, gentlemen. I have grave news. I have it on good authority that both our fire teams and our Tanker teams are lost. We will have to readjust in the remaining four weeks prior to the fleets arrival in UB313 space. No. In answer to your question, that doesn’t take into account the engine issues suffered by The Gallant Mistress, or the slower than expected acceleration of The Dirty Starling. We are hearing that The Jolene Roger is slightly off trajectory, but we expect everyone to be in place in five weeks time. Our own smaller supply line vessels are fine, the drop ships are fine, the attack cruiser is nominal as well. But the four thousand strong complement of infantry are off the board, barring a miracle. So thoughts?” In a change of pace the admiral is the first to speak. Usually a very cautious man, used to listening and weighing options before committing to saying anything, his sudden desire to speak first sets the room to silence. “I have not yet seen a full report from medical stating outright that the fire teams and tank infantrymen are off the board. How is it you are so certain of this Ms Austenmire?” The grey haired admiral sits attentively, his hands clasped together on the table top. His uniform crisp and clean, without a wrinkle in sight. CO Austenmire replies. “I had an unofficial, official discussion prior to this SLT meeting, so that I could present us with the facts – as they are – and not with spin that could potentially flounder our entire operation. Sir!” She bites off the end of the sentence. “So, am i to understand that all of our heavy infantrymen, currently in stasis are as good as dead, but just don’t know it yet?” The elderly admiral ventures. “By all accounts, it would look that way. Yes. Sir.” She responds firmly. All eyes from the gathered Senior Leadership Team are bouncing between Commanding Officer Austenmire and Admiral Garneau like an invisible tennis match. Tensions among the members of the SLT have been strained to the point of nearly snapping since the events of the infantrymen affliction surfaced weeks ago. As the two sit and stare at one another across the ready room’s table, a thick silence settles upon the gathered group of about twenty officers, directors and department heads.

In the lurid silence of the room the admiral’s lead advisor clears his throat and waves a finger to catch the attention of admiral Garneau subtlely. Having caught his attention Gerald the adviser nods back towards the doorway. Both men stand up slowly and walk arm in arm towards the side board near the side doors where Gerald fixes the older admiral a drink. “I have been thinking Mark.” Whispers the broad shouldered Gerald, hiding his face with a turned shoulder, to huddle over the crystal bottle of bourbon. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to suggest. I think we’re going to need to clear the room of almost everybody, except the CO and Dr Tam, and perhaps a couple of recruits from the Amorers division.” Rasps Gerald in a deep gravelly boom. “I see. Well – let’s have it, before I Shepherd them all out of the room unceremoniously.” Quips admiral Garneau jocularly. “I’d rather it not be overheard Mark. Sir.” With wild eyes Gerald tries to convey just how unsavory his plan is going to be. “Oh all right. Excuse me. Everyone. I need you all to leave, everyone but CO Austenmire, Gerald, myself and Doctor Tam. If you could Ms Austenmire could you call her up here please.” Barks the admiral suddenly. Around the room blank stares are offered. But dutifully they all gather their things and head off out of the ready room in single file. The stream of men and women from the SLT is about twenty people strong. Gerald turns to Austemire and says. “Please have Dr Tam’s people escort their two guests into the meeting with her please.” Austenmire makes a confused face, but calls down to the medical labs with the new message.

Several minutes later doctor Tam enters the ready room accompanied by two bloodied men in mismatched leather aprons, who are promptly deposited into seats at the massive wooden table. Their faces a mix of swollen eyes, cracked lips and confusion. Brian says excitedly. “We already told those bastards down in medical, we don’t have no cure, no answers ok! Our scans and visual checks all came up clean ok. It’s not a fault with the programming of the nanotech! Ok. Fuck.” Piotr leans back, his head lolling from side to side in the large over stuffed chair. He coughs and a couple of blood droplets fall onto the table. Brian uses his cuffs to wipe the blood drops away. Gerald speaks up. “That’s not why we have you here. I’m going to state some cold hard facts. I’m going to make a proposal. Not one of you is going to like it. But where we are headed, we need every available asset in fine working order. We all die if we don’t have every piece on the board to work with. We all know the insurgents, that ghastly Doctor Jang and his hangers on are up to something horrific. So shut up, sit down and listen to me closely.” Growls the older statesman Gerald. “Dr Tam here says that in almost every respect our fighting force is dead, they just don’t know it yet.” He states flatly. Brian jerks away from the table, shocked and stunned. His heads swimming with the thought of Mimi gone, his thoughts a jumble due to the cocktail of sedatives he was juiced with. “That’s not exactly what I said, but near enough at this juncture as to make no difference. So please – continue.” Says doctor Tam in an irritated tone. “Yes. I think our issue is, we are treating the fighting force like people we want to save, rather than assets we need to use.” Says Gerald matter of factly. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Blurts out CO Austenmire before doctor Tam had the chance to respond. “Well, doctor, Austenmire. It sounds to me like we’re trying to bring these people back from the brink to be… I don’t know, fully functional people again. We are at war! A good portion of them are expected to die, and those that don’t will not be unaffected by what they see and do. So. I say don’t save them. In that sense. Save them as assets.” Gerald is leaning over the table pounding it with his palm to punctuate his statements. “How do I save these people, by not saving these people Gerald. That doesn’t make any sense?” Replies doctor Tam quietly. Brian still reeling from the revelation of his loss looks dead eyed across the table to the standing Gerald. “You fucking bastard!” He screams violently as blood flows from his swollen eye, and his cracked lips. “Excuse me son!” Bellows admiral Garneau suddenly. “Just what are we discussing here Gerald?” Demands the admiral. “He means to use the nanotech to turn the fighting force into controllable automatons, and then claiming the war killed or maimed the survivors so we can hide what we’re about to do to four thousand people. That’s why Brian and I are here right. We’re not tacticians, or soldiers, or of SLT quality, right people. But we know the code back to front, and how to integrate it with humans and weapons. He’s asked us here to wipe out their humanity by pushing one more program on them, sealing their fate. Or we all get killed during the battle in five weeks time.” Piotr drawls slowly around his puffy cheeks, swollen jaw and not quite entirely worn off sedatives from his jab in the neck. “Well fuck.” Spits Brian. “Je-sus” sputters the admiral turning to look at his friend and confidant in utter disgust.

Chapter Twenty Three: Ghost of the Dirty Starling.

Why spend the money when they just want to play with the box.

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This is a lesson learned from every single Christmas, birthday and gift giving holiday that we’ve ever had over the last near decade. Kids love toys, certainly. But they are also consumed by the need to hang on to card board boxes to colour, decorate, modify and play around with for weeks after the toy has lost parts, fallen out of favour, or been ignored. You think you will remember this revelation, but it will hit you anew, every time. Luckily marketplace can get you some great presents at drastically reduced prices, so you don’t care as much if their initial excitement is about the box and not it’s contents. Let them have at it. They’re happy, giggling and playing well together, so that’s all I can ask for.

I couldn’t wait for Monday to celebrate Valentine’s day. Also the present I gave my kids this morning is to help them to ignore how much football my wife will watch today. Pre-game coverage, Cinderella stories on the Bengals, theory and strategy with pundits from all over the USA, the game itself, the commercials, the endless speeches at the trophy ceremony. It’ll take up the whole afternoon and well into the evening. I like the spectacle for the new movie trailers, and any funny one off product commercials that we catch here in Canada. But they always go up on YouTube, so I could easily give The Superbowl a miss if I wanted to.

Day 61 is here, and looking sunny, with blue skies and sub zero temperatures- again. I don’t have any data on this, but stick with me here. I ‘feel’ like this particular winter has had more blue sky sunny days than most winters I can recall. That’s not a scientific fact, but it feels true. Which means very little to anyone else I’m sure. I’m willing to bet that because of the Pandemic making business a fair bit slower, I’ve just been able to have the time and the desire to notice when the sky is blue and the sun is shining while it’s bitterly cold outside. Could be that the weather is mostly the same percentage of sunny vs. Cloudy year over year but my wistful glances out the window this season has noticed the ice blue and registered it, and forgotten about any drab grey I’ve seen. Not forgotten, that’s the wrong word. Taken no notice of, ignored? Ignored seems like the right frame of mind for what I’m talking about.

In other news we have family that have finally, after two years of complaining about it, gone to Florida for some R & R. I get it, we’ve been stuck in, mostly at home for two years, soon to start year three, and people with disposable income are getting antsy to get out and about. In October I made it to a single movie, which felt like a morsel of normalcy. Mask and everything while I watched. I was just happy to get to have that back, briefly. Different than international travel, sure, but I understand the desire.

Did you catch the story recap I posted a few days ago? Can you guess how things are going to end? I hope not, but if you’ve read all four sub sections of book one you might have an inkling for how things will turn out. I hope not, but you very well could. Which leads me to another question for those of you who write. If you thought people might guess at your initial ending would you feel pressured in any way to add in additional twists, or go an entirely different route to end it? I guess I’ll see how close to what I’m aiming for I get when the characters start to act up and act out! Happy Sunday Feb 13th of the year 2022.