All Things From My Brain » science fiction

Random Thoughts for July 9, 2010

Patrick Hester — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 23:00:09 +0000

/begin random thoughts

I wish I could better streamline my day and time. Aren’t we all about that? Getting more done, having more time, etc and so on?

I find there are times when I wish my body wouldn’t betray my brain; I want to write, to work on this or that, but my body is all, ‘No! Too tired! Must sleep now!’ and my brain is still going. They need to make a pill for that.

“Cyzquarhoshilopozine! The new drug that makes it possible for you to work, without sleep! May cause drowsiness, mild depression, suicidal tendencies, rage, serial killer-ism, psychotic outbreaks, chicken pocks, muscle spasms, erectile dysfunction or loss of sex drive, bleeding from your eyes, demonic possession, delusions of grandeur, political aspirations, asthma, hearing loss, appendicitis, brain tumors, cancer of the uvula, swelling of the ears, tongue, fingers or toes, hair loss, rectal bleeding, death, zombie-ism and pimples.”

Also, I’d like to be better at using the time I do have to get stuff done. I keep looking at my lunch hour and thinking, ‘How can I squeeze some more productivity out of that bad boy?’ I already try to write these little blog posts during that time, what more can I manage, I wonder?

* * *

The other night, I went to B&N. I told myself that I was just going to go, hang out, have a piece of cheesecake and not spend a ton of money.

A ton of money later…

* * *

I’m getting a desk from a guy to go in my basement office / man cave / TARDIS area and he keeps putting off when he’ll be able to deliver it. I don’t have a vehicle that can haul the damned thing. I suppose I could borrow one but part of me doesn’t mind the wait because it allows me to procrastinate. See, when the desk arrives, I’ve committed myself to the whole ‘bookshelf, setup the office environment’ project, so putting that off is okay cuz it’s a daunting task for a non carpentry computer guy.

* * *

I bought a new dishwasher to replace the old dishwasher. The old dishwasher SOUNDED LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME – CAN YOU HEAR ME? I CAN’T HEAR YOU – LET’S GO OUTSIDE WHERE IT’S QUIET AND WE CAN CHAT, OK? The new dishwasher sounds no louder than a really quiet cat purring. The difference is absolutely astounding.

The dishwasher marks a milestone, or maybe just an as yet unprecedented incredible moment in my life wherein I didn’t have to get ‘what I could afford’ but rather ‘what I wanted’. I’ve always saved up for big purchases, which I think we all do. A lot of times, we set our targets on something and then save until we can afford it. I tend to compromise even on that – I’ll see what’s out there, see what I could save for and then talk myself out of the more expensive stuff and settle for something ‘I can afford’ sooner. Have done that for most of my adult life.

With this dishwasher, I had my tax credit from the purchase of my house fresh in the bank. There were lots of different dishwashers that I could afford, but I went for a couple bells & whistles that I wouldn’t normally have gone for (like I really, really wanted a quieter one) and I didn’t sweat the extra $100 or whatever to get it.

Of course, after that purchase, I am back on being miserly with my money on big purchases (and some little ones too). Still, it was fun to do once…

* * *

Tonight, Eureka! returns to the channel formerly known as SciFi. I’m excited! That is one very fun little show. My TiVo is set just in case something comes up and I can’t watch it live. Also setup to record Haven because I want to see what that’s all about.

/end random thoughts

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John Picacio – Art nerd?

Patrick Hester — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 18:00:27 +0000

Once again, my friend John Anealio and I had the privilege of hosting a fantastic guest over on the Functional Nerds podcast. John Picacio is an award winning artist who has put together some of the most memorable cover art I’ve seen in a long time.

His covers grace books from many different publishers, have won or been nominated for some of the industries most prestigious awards and he is in very high demand to produce more – but you know what else? He is a really nice guy and a great person to chat with.

Before the show even started, we were chatting about the (possible) origins of his surname, Bob Ross on PBS and a slew of other things that prompted John Anealio to comment, “Maybe we should save some of this for the podcast, guys!”

(I’ll clue you in to a secret – John has to say that a lot. I have the gift of gab, people.)

The ‘official’ portion of the conversation included a bit about how he got started creating book covers, his time as an architect, the future of genre covers in general and how he approaches each commission.

What I took away from the whole thing was a very grounded guy, very personable, knows what he’s doing and does it well and is forward thinking enough to be thinking about what comes next.

Overall, an excellent conversation. Check it out over at the Functional Nerds, episode 15.

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Update-I’d like to blog for you

Patrick Hester — Sun, 13 Jun 2010 20:54:30 +0000

I little while ago, I put up a post saying that I’d like to blog for you (That offer is still open, btw). Essentially, the idea was that I would write a guest post for your blog and you would write one for mine. You pick the topic I write and I pick the topic you write. We both get some exposure, so it’s pretty much a win-win for both of us.

The first person to take me up on that offer was Brian over at The New Author.

He asked me to write something about what it takes to write in the science fiction / fantasy genres.

I spent the next couple of weeks working on this. Now, normally, it doesn’t take me that long to write a post – so if you’re interested in the whole swap blog posts idea, don’t fear – just shoot me an email. No, it normally doesn’t take so long, but I took this very seriously. I mean, who the hell am I to give anyone advice on writing? I have no pro publishing credits to my name. So if I’m going to do something like that, I am going to do it right.

The result was a rather lengthy piece filled with lots of details that help me and, therefore, I think will help others. Because it was a rather lengthy piece, Brain felt the need to break it up into three bite size morsels. I don’t blame him one bit for doing that. I probably would’ve done the same had I published that piece here on All Things From My Brain.

If you’ve ever wondered about what it takes to write scifi and fantasy, or if you just wonder what another aspiring author thinks that it takes, you should check out the guest post.

I hope you enjoy it. And while you’re over there, take a look at some of the other stuff Brian has going. You’ll be happy you did.

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The Writing

Patrick Hester — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 13:00:13 +0000

I figured it was time to do some writing updates, since that’s what all of this is really about. Funny enough, the genesis for this piece lies lies in the live episode of ‘I should be writing’ from Mur Lafferty. They were talking about writing and publishing and whether or not to publish your stuff online – that sort of thing, and it got me thinking that I don’t explain myself enough.

I’m not trying to sound arrogant as I say this, but I could be a very prolific writer – if I had the time. I remember the ‘golden years’ when I worked part time went to school part time and wrote part time (partied part time, read a lot of comic books part time, played video games part time…). I filled folder after folder and later disk after disk (the 3.5 floppies) with all sorts of stuff from my brain. Unfortunately, this was when I was really beginning to learn how to write so none of it is particularly good as I look at it today. But the point is, I wrote a lot.

Today I find the world is full of distractions and my productivity suffers because of it.

I have four major, massive projects going right now. I would like to say to any of you reading this; don’t do what I do, don’t overextend yourself. Focus on a project, get it done and move on while you query. Learn from your Uncle Pakridge (long story) and don’t be stupid.

Project One: Sam Kane. This is my completed novel locked in a nightmare of editing that I myself caused. I once said on twitter that a novel is like a tapestry; pull one string and the whole thing could fall apart. Well, I pulled a string. Then I pulled another one. It’s better for it, really, but reweaving it all together has proven to be a pain in the ass.

When your project becomes a pain in the ass, your mind allows itself to be distracted by other things. This is not good. You need to tell your brain to focus and ignore-ooo! What’s that over there?! Sooooo shiny…

Project Two: The Chronicles of Darius. This is my epic fantasy novel. It is both epic in scale and fantastic and I’m keeping it close and not putting it out there on purpose, deciding instead to lead off with Sam Kane. There’s a slew of reasons for this not the least of which has to do with control and marketing.

Let me attempt to esplain.

As a brand new author, your contract, royalties, control, etc and so on shall be commensurate with your experience. Hence, very little. You have to build from there. In my mind, you want to make a big splash and expand from there, build your audience and your marketability. Darius is a big, expansive and complex story and I don’t know that I want to lead with that and give up as much control as you do when you’re first starting out. So I am going first with other things that, though dear to my heart, have marketable value I can build and expand on so that, when it comes time to sell Darius, I am in a better position to negotiate.

Hope that makes sense enough.

Project Three: Untitled as yet. This one snuck up on me. I wrote what I thought was the beginning of a short story about a year ago and, while trying to figure out where I was going with it, wrote a piece of flash fiction that I thought was unrelated and ended up being too big for flash fiction anyway. Then, I started another short story and was doing a little of what I like to call ‘future history building’ where in I lay out some of the future events in my little sandbox I like to call The New Universe.

One weekend, I was staring at all these supposedly unrelated pieces and realized that I had the makings of a damned fine science fiction novel. All I had to do was pull a few threads together and then finish it up.

My initial reaction to this realization was as follows: Shit.

I soon found myself laying out exactly how these seemingly different stories were actually related and how they wove within each other. They fit so weirdly well that I half assumed that my own brain might be conspiring against me. This piece is now half done.

Sigh.

Project Four: Evermist. But – Evermist is DONE! Why is Evermist on the list?! Why is Evermist a project?!

Because I can’t let anything go. I have to reread and tweak every single chapter before it goes up on the site. Maybe it’s the perfectionist in me, maybe it’s the OCD in me – I don’t know, but I can’t just let it go, not when the web is fluid and changes can be made (unlike print). So I tweak it, and then that tweak means I have to tweak the next bit, and so on, and so on.

So, yeah – Evermist is still an ongoing project. I release it myself as a serial piece every Friday because I want to build exposure and get some people, just like you, interested in my writing. it’s part of that whole bit I talked about a couple paragraphs up, about what is marketable and what isn’t. I don’t think there is a place in the traditional marketplace for something like Evermist right now, so I release it myself online to build my audience.

There you have it, the projects that have stolen my attention. Again, I urge you not to follow in my footsteps. Pick a project and see it through, do as I say not as I do…

…I haven’t even mentioned the ‘Conversations with my Cat’ comics, coming soon. WHAT?! WHO SAID THAT?!

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Where’d Stargate go? Oh yeah – Wrestling replaced it

Patrick Hester — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 19:30:13 +0000

John Anealio gave me some shit last week on the Functional Nerds podcast because I always say, ‘The channel formerly known as SciFi’ when talking about the former SciFi Channel, now called ‘SyFy’.

I say it because it’s my way of pointing out the absurdity of the whole name change bs. I would also ridicule the Food Network if they announced they were becoming the Füd Network so they could show music videos featuring Bjorn, ABBA and Ace of Base.

The powers that be justified their stupidity by saying that changing the name would allow them to move beyond science fiction programming and make way for other types of shows and content, broadening their audience. So, essentially, they didn’t want to be associated with science fiction anymore. Except when they did, which wouldn’t be a lot. Just once in a while. Like, one night a week. Probably Fridays.

…well, unless something better came along.

Like Wrestling.

I remember when they added wrestling on Tuesdays. I barfed. I also died a little bit inside. Now, they are taking their Friday night lineup and moving it so they can make room for more wrestling. MORE WRESTLING!

I’m going to be ill. Again.

Why not just change your name to USA2 and get it over with? Put us out of our misery?

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If it’s not canon, you can ignore it, right? (Star Wars)

Patrick Hester — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 03:45:31 +0000

Well.

It’s all over the net (io9, TVSquad, IGN) that Lucasfilm Director of Fan Relations Steve Sansweet suggested that a new animated series would continue the adventures of Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Princess Leia Organa.

How, isn’t quite clear yet.

People are kinda confused, to tell you the truth. Including me – which is why I’m posting about this.

The confusion is over what show the guy is talking about. Is it Seth Green’s new Star Wars comedy? Or is it something else entirely?

Whichever way it goes, the question now becomes – what about all those novels that’ve been written?

After Return of the Jedi came out, there wasn’t much Star Wars to be had. There were a couple of different books and that Christmas Special no one likes to talk about. There was also that Droid cartoon. But nothing substantive.

Enter Timothy Zahn.

I remember it well; I was walking (not loitering) in Manchester Center (a mall in Fresno) and just so happened to pass (Okay, so, maybe I lived there part time) the Waldenbooks (it’s not like they knew me by name or anything) and saw this giant sign (Okay, so, maybe they knew me by name but there’s nothing wrong with that) that said ‘Pre-order your copy of the new Star Wars novel today!’

After they stopped me from humping the sign (that totally never happened), I pre-ordered my copy and spent the next couple of months going, “WHERE THE F*&k IS MY G*# D@#N BOOK?!”

Then the day came. It was in the store. A Star Wars book. A NEW Star Wars book. It was full of Star Wars stuff. I was sure there were lightsabers and shit.

I also remember, somewhere, at some point in time, George Lucas saying that he had authorized the books (and then I went, WHA WHA WHA?! There will be MORE BOOKS?!) because he wasn’t going to go there anymore – he was going to concentrate on other things.

(Like friggin Jar Jar.)

So, after Zahn finished his spectacular trilogy, more books came out, furthering the adventures of Luke, Leia and Han. Dark Horse picked up on the whole thing and started tying comic books into the ‘new canon’, expanding on it. More books came and the universe continued to expand and become rich and deep (and sometimes utterly stupid. Many Bothans died to bring us some stupidity…).

What happens to all of that ‘history’ if a new show goes forward based on those characters?

The only comparable parallel I can draw would be Star Trek. When Star Trek went off the air the first time (TOS), there were some different incarnations of it that showed up including an animated series, some comic books, even a few novels.

When Pocket Books took over the franchise, the authors involved in the new stories (initially) kept a continuity between novels. This ended fairly quickly when Pocket Books (Or Paramount, or maybe even Roddenberry himself (who had issues with ‘those damn books!’)) put the kaibosh on the idea of any sort of continuity. In the beginning of all of that stuff, there wasn’t any sort of official canon policy.

That did change though.

Paramount, via the website StarTrek.com, has said some stuff about canon. First up:

“Although the Animated Adventures had an undeniable Star Trek-ness to them, they are not considered part of the Star Trek “canon,” or accepted Trek storyline. Almost without exception, it is the live-action series and movies that are considered canon. However, some Star Trek “facts” are actually borrowed from the animated show, i.e. the name of the original U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 captain, Robert April; the surname for Spock’s mother, Amanda “Grayson”; etc.”

Second, when specifically asked, “What is considered Star Trek canon?”, Paramount answered in an FAQ:

“As a rule of thumb, the events that take place within the live action episodes and movies are canon, or official Star Trek facts. Story lines, characters, events, stardates, etc. that take place within the fictional novels, the Animated Adventures, and the various comic lines are not canon.

There are a couple of exceptions to this rule: the Jeri Taylor penned novels “Mosaic” and “Pathways.” Many of the events in these two novels feature background details of the main Star Trek: Voyager characters. (Note: There are a few details from an episode of the Animated Adventures that have entered into the Star Trek canon. The episode “Yesteryear,” written by D.C. Fontana, features some biographical background on Spock.)”

Given this stance on what is and what isn’t canon from the only other comparable series out there, I would lean towards Lucas going the same way as Paramount, which sucks. It means that all that new history is left to flap in the wind.

I doubt Lucas will be as thoughtful about it as Roddenberry was. Roddenberry didn’t green light the Star Trek novels the way Lucas did, so he wasn’t very happy with them. In a letter he was quoted as saying:

“Yes, I dream of how nice it would be if I had been able to own it wholly and control all rights. Many of the present Star Trek novels would never have appeared and probably none of them without some really extensive rewriting. On the other hand, by giving the property my sole attention there would have been many novels I would have written, keeping the entire Star Trek property more cohesive. Certainly it would have been fun to see Earth and Federation civilization of that century better explained. But none of this was possible, as my attitude now is that it has probably worked out as well as it could have happened in this real world that I must live in. And I am grateful for the talent of those who did write those books and stories. Indeed, I am not past hoping that the entire experience is leading me toward something more important, even more more fulfilling.”

I don’t know that Lucas can be quite so magnanimous.

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Monday Writing Excerpt: Untitled

Patrick Hester — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 19:30:11 +0000

Whenever an idea comes to mind, I have to write it down. Today’s excerpt is from an idea that I had for a scifi story. I wrote up the synopsis and a dozen or so chapters but felt there were other projects that needed to be completed before this one, so it has sat on the back burner for some time now.

Take a look and I hope you enjoy it.

Untitled SciFi Project

Floating. He did not truly understand the word, only the sensation of the warmth and fluidity which surrounded him always. It was something, the only thing, tangible and constant, that never truly went away with the words and images that would come and go. Although it did seem to retreat to the edge of his consciousness when the pain came. Lingering there, as an anchor against the darkness.

Darkness. This too was something merely instinctual. He had no understanding of light and darkness, black or white. Darkness simply was. It surrounded him as much as the warm sensation, but held a danger that could be sensed on some level. From the darkness came the pain.

Pain. It brought with it fear and anxiety. Striking from the darkness with speed and precision, he became aware of the signs of its approach. Waves of cold would strike against him, making him aware of extremities connected to his mind in some way. As the images began to flood in, these extremities would lash out, causing more waves to slap back and forth against him, churning a pit below him yet part of him somehow.

Each time the pain would come and go, the awareness of instinct, or these extremities connected to his mind, would always stay hidden. This awareness was never stripped away like all the rest. It was as if such knowledge was missed or ignored in the great expulsion. And so, each encounter with pain caused a quicker response by what was a great body of . . . . something. Him. Mind and extremities fighting together somehow to stop the pain and quiet the noise within.

Only the pain did not stop. It increased as more and more raw information flooded in. There was no easement. There was no stopping. It was more than had ever come before and nothing could stop it. He tried to scream – but there was no sound. And still there was more, causing the pain to become unbearable as his body flailed around, sending waves out and back in ever increasing power until everything became light.

Falling was a new sensation. Not one he had ever encountered before and was totally unprepared for as it happened. Sound, too, was new. It came as the falling stopped and his ears heard, for the first time, the muffled sound of glass breaking and liquid sloshing against a cold metal floor.

Cold he knew. But not like this. It pierced his skin much like the sharp shards of glass he fell into even as the water washed them away. The guttural scream coming from the pit of his stomach stung his ears as he flopped on the floor like some great beached whale. It was followed by vomiting as his body expunged the vile liquid that had fed his now burning lungs while submersed in the water-like liquid.

Instinct took over, as hands and arms gone unused now pushed against the cold metal for support, and the body, shivering and weak, crouched like a wounded animal. His eyes opened and light flooded in where none had been before, sending a new sensation of pain to his mind. He blinked even as his arms slashed out to block the light stabbing at him from all around. But as it flowed in, the images in his mind became coherent and almost instantly, made sense. It was no longer just raw data cluttered and disorganized. In one white hot moment of fear and pain, everything came together.

Comprehension followed quickly and he stood up and stretched his muscles that, now being used properly, appeared to be quite strong and tight. He looked down at the dead body of the man who had been crushed by his, he searched for the word and found, not realizing that he now understood language, containment tube? Yes, that was correct. Language would take some getting used to, but he knew it was all there in his mind. He simply had to access it. And when he did, he could read the label lying on the floor : Gene Sample 11646.

The man appeared to be very similar to himself in structure; two arms, two legs, two eyes and one head. Although, he was smaller in stature, and wore some sort of outer skin. Clothing. The word appeared in his mind even as he pondered the strange outer skin. He immediately understood the meaning of the word, but also the necessity behind clothing, and its implications on him if he were seen without it. Modesty.

He became aware of his nudity.

His eyes scanned the room and saw several vertical storage devices along the left side of the room, and understood their function. Moving toward them, he took his first steps, no longer paying any attention to the coolness of the floor beneath his feet, though he did watch for any shards of glass, and avoided them, knowing they could pierce his skin and cause damage.

The first locker was empty except for a few personal items on a shelf about mid-high inside. The second contained some undergarments that fit snugly, but fit. It also contained a jumpsuit that he put on over the undergarments for an acceptable fit, and a pair of shoes that were tight but manageable.

He saw his face now, for the first time, in a small mirror inside the door of the locker. Wet and disheveled, his reddish hair was cut short and he was able to straighten it acceptably by running his fingers through it. He noted the thickness as he pulled it back away from his face. His eyes were a light blue and he saw that he had facial hair beginning to break through his skin. It was rough and scratchy to the touch as he rubbed his chin.

He closed the door to the locker and looked around the room again. He knew now that it was a laboratory. There were five more tubes like the one he’d been in arranged on the wall to his right. They had thick tubing and thin wires running into them and through them, but he could not see through the black water filling them. Each had monitoring devices of every sort hooked up along with computers and machines that appeared to provide sustenance for those like himself who might be inside. Stepping close, he saw no movement inside, and guessed them to be empty.

Down the middle of the room were several long tables filled with all manner of scientific equipment and paraphernalia. There were also six computer terminals set several paces apart, two down one side, at each end, and up the other side.

To his left were fifteen small, oblong doors. He walked the length of the room, watching these doors. They were arranged three high, with five rows. They radiated a cold that made him shudder. Each had a label on it, but he decided not to read them, not knowing why they made him so uncomfortable. That he would not open one, went without even thinking.. He did not like the way they made him feel. Instead, he made his way to one of the computers.

As he stepped up to a computer terminal, the screen came to life and he studied it for a moment. There was a logo in the center of it; a triangle with a sword piercing it down the center. Imperial Starship. He understood the logo and its implications. The information was in his mind already. He stood in a science lab aboard a Starship of the Imperial Fleet. But which ship? The computer had no input device that he could see. How would he . . . ? Speech. It was a form of communication used between two or more beings like himself.

“What ship is this?” he asked. The words flowed from him effortlessly. He could not remember ever using this form of linguistic communication before, and yet, he knew it by heart. Every word. Every inflection.

“Please input security clearance and access code for computer activation,” the computer responded in a monotone female voice.

He looked to the dead scientist, and saw in his mind a still image of the man next to a long string of words describing him and his career. It included…

“Security clearance Alpha Jay Two Three. Access code Ryshen – exeter exeter four four seven.”

“Please insert identicard,” the computer voice responded.

He moved to the body and saw the card attached to the man’s lab coat. Reaching down, he pulled it from the coat and turned back to the computer. There was a slim opening just under the screen which took the card as he slid it in.

“Security clearance accepted. Welcome Doctor Ryshen. Please restate your requested information inquiry.”

“What ship is this?”

“This ship is the Imperial Cruiser Roken.”

“Roken,” he repeated absently. In his mind, images of the ship became clear. “Imperial Starship classification Cruiser. Fourteen forward particle beam cannons, seven starboard and seven port. One Keroton Laser, forward. Seventeen decks, four sections : Blue, Gold, Red and Brown. Primary reactor core aft of launch bay. Secondary core fore. Crew compliment one thousand fifteen. Five fighter wings consisting of twelve ships each. All are Bedian class light attackers.”

“Correct,” the computer acknowledged him.

He stepped away and it winked off. Fear and uncertainty now filled his mind. He did not want to go back into the tube, and yet understood that if he were caught, this would happen. He knew that he had to get away from this place, and get off this ship. He had to go . . . He did not know where, but anyplace had to better than this vile laboratory which had brought him only pain.

Taking a deep breath, he touched the control for the door to open up into the hallway. It slid back silently and he stood face to face with another man. He was shorter, with long black hair that touched his shoulders even as he looked up to meet the gaze of the other man. His eyes, a deep, dark brown went wide with fear as his mouth opened and let loose a quiet squeal. He had tore apart the locking mechanism on the outside and his hands were clasped tight on the wires for the door lock.

Anger welled in the blue eyes of the first man, who reached out with one hand and locked down on the neck of the shorter man like a great steel clamp. The shorter man’s eyes popped wide as he realized the danger he was in and began to struggle, slapping widely at the taller man with weak hands attached to stringy arms which flapped with each movement.

“Just a toad!” the shorter man gasped in panic. “No threat! No threat! I steal only what I need to survive! Food! Water! No more!” he croaked. His air intake was growing smaller and smaller and he knew that he would soon die.

But just as he came to that realization, the grip of the taller man lessened, and then gave way altogether allowing the shorter man to jump back. His chest heaved as the precious oxygen was taken in by his lungs. He stood there for several seconds before venturing to say a word.

“Are you mad?” he asked, in a moment of rare insane bravery. The words were not chosen wisely, simply spoken in response to the moment. He tried to look infuriated as he rubbed his sore neck.

“No,” the taller man answered honestly. Then, to the complete and utter exasperation of the shorter man, the taller man pushed his way through the doorway and began walking down the hall as if nothing had happened.

The shorter man stood there for a second with his mouth hanging open. Shaking his head, and chalking it up to dumb luck that the Soldier or Techie, or whatever he was hadn’t killed him, he stepped up to the door of the laboratory and looked inside. There had to be something worth taking inside. Perhaps a few ration packs left lying about. A hand held computer pad or identicard he could use…

He didn’t bother wasting any time in the room. With one wide eyed scan of the room, Toad ran down the hallway just as the taller man was rounding the corner. “Come back!” he hissed, not wanting to make any real loud noises, lest someone be listening. But the man did not stop, and Toad had to slide around the corner blindly, and scurry to regain his balance and start down the new hall.

“Would you wait just a moment?” he hissed, lowering his head as if that would make the sound of his voice slightly quieter than it was. A wide, toothy smile spread across his face as the man who, just minutes before, held his life in one hand, turned to look at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

Toad looked at him now and saw that the clothes did not fit him well, and certainly did not meet the Imperial standards set for people who worked on this ship, no matter who he was. His hair was wet, and poorly combed, and he did not carry himself as one does when they are trained in the Empire. He looked too, and Toad searched his mind for the right word, innocent?

“Look,” and Toad lowered his head again at the sound of his voice. He took three small steps closer to the other man, then took two more, standing just a breath away from him.

“Do you have any idea where you are?” Toad whispered.

“Yes,” answered the taller man in a loud, strong voice that made Toad twinge and hide his face with his arms, waiting for all manner of alarms and whatnot to go off.

When they didn’t, he put his finger to his lips and shushed the dumb guy.

“Keep your voice down. If you know where you are, then you know we’ll be tossed out the nearest airlock if we’re caught here!” Toad hissed.

“I was unaware of that penalty.”

“Penalty. Penalty? When were you born?” Toad asked shaking his head sadly. The equipment in that room told him all he really needed to know, this guy was some poor schmuck they’d used for experiments. This also meant that the kid was from some low tech world, where there was no real regulations against human test subjects.

“Backwater- can I call you Backwater? Good. You can’t just go walking down the hallways of an Imperial cruiser, okay?”

Backwater nodded a yes in agreement.

“If you get caught, well, it’s pretty much eeeecch!” he made a slicing gesture across his neck from left to right.

“Then how do I move from place to place, deck to deck?” Backwater asked.

“You follow me.”

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Podcast: Episode 11

Patrick Hester — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 21:14:09 +0000

#11

In this weeks ATFMB podcast, I talk about scifi television, including the renewal of Fox hit Fringe for a 3rd season, Chuck’s ratings win that might mean a 4th season and how i09 has a list of 25 books Hollywood should be making movies out of, how HBO has greenlit a new series based on the Song of Fire and Ice fantasy novels by George R. R. Martin, how Bruce Wayne, like every other comic book character who has ever died before him, is ‘coming back’ to the DC Universe and how Comics Should Be Good – which is the title of a new blog that I absolutely love. In music, I share with you my thoughts on Susan Tedeschi, blues goddess and not so secret crush.

Susan Tedeschi on iTunes

Comics Should be Good

DCU Bruce Wayne Returns

Susan Tedeschi

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Return of the Podcast: Episode 9

Patrick Hester — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 18:39:34 +0000

I said I’d do it, I warned you – you didn’t listen, did you? Well, now it’s TOO LATE!

THE RETURN OF THE PODCAST IS HERE!

Episode 9 of the All Things From My Brain Podcast is here.

In this weeks massive, DOUBLE SIZED, MAXI-PODCAST, I am joined by a special guest on his very first podcast appearance as we discuss the iPad, about Apple, Google, Blizzard, Doctor Who, Dollhouse, Torchwood – and the fact that his youngest son may be stalking me via iPhone.

With Episode 9 I am dumping Podbean and everything is going to be hosted here on atfmb.com. If you’ve subscribed to the podcast via iTunes, that link is in the process of being changed and you’ll have to resubscribe – I’ll let you know as soon as that’s ready and available.

In the meantime, click below and stream to your hearts content or you can download via this link by right clicking and choosing ’save as’.

[podcast]http://www.atfmb.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/AllThingsFromMyBrain009.mp3[/podcast]

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Tales from The New Universe: Gunny Homn

Patrick Hester — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 19:30:49 +0000

Happy Monday.

I wanted to share something different with you today. It’s not Flash Fiction due to it’s length, but nor it is really a short story. It’s something in-between.

It’s a bit of future-history from The New Universe (my own little sandbox of creative endeavors – everything I write exists in this little Universe I’ve created). I hope you like it.

Tales from The New Universe: Gunny Homn

Descent

The Slider shook violently as it sliced through the atmosphere. The exterior glowed white hot, the heat shield pushing away the worst of it to form a long tail in its wake. Inside, she felt none of it; her body snug in the viscous gel that kept her blood oxygenated, her body safe from the G-forces the Slider was experiencing and from the heat and friction chipping away at the surface of the craft.

Just large enough for one person, the Sliders sole purpose was to deliver someone to the surface of a planet with minimal time, effort and cost.

Someone like Gunny Homn.

* * *

Homn pulled the strings of her boots tight, the worked, brown leather laces wrapping around the knee-high, tan boots four times before they were short enough to be tied. Her pants were tucked in and tied up the sides, simple cotton leggings beneath them. Her belt was braided and made of stiffer stock, carrying two pouches, a long-blade dagger and a smaller, flat blade knife used for eating. The tan shirt also had a second, cotton shirt beneath it that doubled as a lining and she wore a green, short cut vest and matching jacket over that. The long, dark, oiled cloak that would complete her outfit still rested on the back of the chair next to the desk.

A quick look in the mirror and she flashes the woman reflected there a rare grin, tugging on the thick braid of hair hanging down, hugging the left side of her face. She definitely looked the part of a heathen. Now, she just needed to convince the Vice-Captain.

* * *

“Unification is the single greatest priority for the Human Race,” said the speaker on the chat, wearing a brown L’oum-suit with gold trim and a mirror-mask reflecting the gray L’oum of the interviewer. “Between the dilution of the Blood and the Cullings, we really cannot afford to allow these lost, backward splinter worlds to continue their Unholy Evolutionary Paths unaided.”

The mirror-mask of the interviewer held a blue tint, trimmed in pale red. “But, many within the Hierarchy of the Dome, argue that these splinter worlds, because of the divergence in their Evolution, are actually throwbacks to a baser, lesser Human existence than what we know today and will only serve to further pollute our lines if Unification is allowed. How do you respond to them?”

“Don’t you see? That is precisely why we must bring them back into the fold. Because they are throwbacks, their Blood is much closer to Genetic Purity. They haven’t experienced the Degradation as so many of us have. For generations, dilution of the Blood has caused more and more genetic mutation and weakening. These splinter worlds have survived in the old ways. They have diseases, suffer from exposure to bacteria, breed through sexual reproduction – things that we have not experienced in thousands of years. Because of this, they build up tolerances we can only dream of. Bringing them back into the fold will only strengthen us over time and ensure the continued expression of The Message throughout the Universe.”

Homn nodded thoughtfully. High Command agreed with this assessment. There was a program being developed even now to try and find these splinter worlds, assess the odds of successful Unification. They were even looking for volunteers who might be willing to act as the Forerunners. Fingering the a’Ddah of her N’osh to align with the docking web, she wondered what that might entail, a sense of adventure beginning to take shape in her heart.

* * *

“These images were taken from a high orbiting o’Anah’N'ret. A splinter world. We believe there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of such worlds, scattered across the Universe. Upon the Breaking, many fled the Culling of the Ute and no record was made of their journey, nor their destinations, so that the Evil may not find them.”

Homn stared at the images flashing slowly across the scried. She was shocked to see people so naked. Not a single one wore the Sacred L’oum or made any effort to hide their Souls from the Universe. Many around her seemed just as disturbed as she, some turning away in disgust or fear. As she watched, an image of a woman stunned her; she had long hair, wrapped upon itself in an intricate pattern that seemed impossible to her eye. Never had she seen such hair, spilling from the woman’s head down one side of her naked face. Her skin was strange, darkened with hue and color, and she wore some sort of garment that covered parts of her but could not have protected her from the Universe. Also, it accentuated her shape in a scandalous fashion, taking away any semblance of Blessed Androgyny.

Equally, men were naked to the Universe, their faces visible, skin darkened, clothes seemingly made to somehow accentuate their differences rather than hide them as was proper. It was as if madness had taken them. She had heard of whole Seeqhs going mad, removing the Sacred L’oum, mixing and comingling as savages, Souls naked to the Universe. It was the kind of thing you told in hushed tones to frighten and motivate the young newly hatched.

“They are more primitive than we could have ever imagined. To contact them will require sacrifice and dedication above and beyond anything that has ever been asked before. Only the strongest of us will be able to endure such trials. No one will judge you if you choose to leave now.”

Homn stared, curiosity warring with fear in her heart. She had never before found herself wavering once a decision was made, yet she had never expected this. ‘Sacrifice and dedication’? Watching as so many begin walking away, she remembered what had brought her to this point; the Human race needed these heathens in order to survive.

Steeling herself, she stayed where she stood. When the last of the deserters, for that was how she thought of them in her mind, when the last of them left, there were only a handful still standing before the Captain.

Nodding to those remaining, the Captain continued the briefing.

* * *

Homn stared at the reflection before her. It was her, naked to the Universe. After weeks, it was still difficult to see and she found herself looking down or away lest the Ute feel her presence and swarm for the Culling.

Her head was covered in a thin layer of fuzz; hair. She’d never had hair before. It was unnerving. Her skin had taken on a slight hue under the daily imaging doses she endured at the hands of the scientists. They assured her that it was safe in low doses, but she’d seen Rotero’s naked skin blister and belch something green and red all at the same time. He’d screamed, too; a horrid sound gurgling forth from his throat. Then they took him away and she had not seen him again.

Her round mammaries looked odd to her, but they told her they were necessary and adequate for the task. Most surprising to her had been the hair growing near her sex, and the bleeding that had begun almost as soon as her Sacred L’oum had been removed. The scientists told her that it was normal and ancient, but she did not see how this was possible. She was leaking fluids from inside her skin - that could not be normal!

The thought made her stomach speak – another oddity without the Sacred L’oum, and something she had never known before. Sometimes that sound meant she had to ingest something. With her mouth. Other times, she had to expel something from… other places. It was all so base and degrading and very inhuman.

They said and spoke and assured her that this was how the splinter Human’s lived their lives every day. She couldn’t fathom any of it. It was so… brutal, savage. The stark differences between male and female offended her. Esah and she had been set the task of standing, face to face, speaking to each other directly. The task was difficult; they were required to look each other in the eye while speaking, no mirror-mask to protect them. This necessitated risking soul to soul contact without reflection. During the exercise, Esah’s sex had inexplicably engorged. They rushed both of them to separate rooms for testing and decontamination.

She could tell that the scientists had been unnerved by the entire affair.

The Rorsah came to speak with them each day after that, despite their sins and nakedness. It was the only comfort for her at this point, knowing that what they did had been approved by the Church, that their souls were protected even if their skin were not. An entire F’qua had been devoted to thirty-eight hour prayer just for their squad.

Just yesterday, they had told her she would be elevated to Gunny. She was equal parts disturbed and prideful. She knew she had to continue on.

* * *

“Kneel before your God,” said the Rorsah, and Gunny Homn fell to her knees. She pressed her face to the floor, feeling the vibration as the walls of the tank slowly receded and the room filled with light and warmth. Her skin prickled.

You have done well, Gunny Homn, said the Human God, speaking in her mind. Euphoria spread through her body. Yours shall be a shining example to all Human kind. Rise, and look upon your God so that you may take me with you in your heart and spread The Message wherever you go.

Gunny Homn rose, tears streaming down her face as the God of Humanity shone brightly before her.

* * *

“You are the only one, Homn. The only one to persevere. Yours shall be the example for those who come after. Are you prepared?”

Gunny Homn looked up at her own reflection in the Vice-Captain’s mirror-mask. She saw her own excitement there, her own pride. She would be the first, but not the last. Unification would begin here, now.

“I am,” she replied. She stood above the Slider. The Honor Guard saluted her as she was lowered inside. The seal locked her inside and the pumps began to fill it. She breathed deeply, letting the gel fill her, become part of her.

The only indication that the Slider had been ejected, was the slight thrumming in her ears.

* * *

Her senses were under assault; lungs burning, eyes flaring with pain from the colors and light, ears thrumming with the beat of her own heart, deep within her chest. She fell to her knees, palms forward, the gritty surface cutting into the exposed flesh, digging beneath her fingernails. Back arched, she expelled the last of the gel from her lungs, then shuddered with her first burning breath.

The air was warm but sweet; she gasped repeatedly, taking in great breaths, eyes watering. She threw herself away from the puddle of gel, rolling over on her back, eyes staring sightlessly up at the blur she assumed to be the sky. She clutched to the dirt now, digging her fingers deeper, afraid for the first time in her life, aware that there is no ships deck beneath her, but rather a world turning that could spin her right off.

She could feel the weight of gravity pushing her down.

Her heart pounded in her ears, her breathing started to stabilize. For the first time, she drew in a deep breath through her nose, a thousand scents assaulting her, swirling through her mind which churned trying to identify them. Eyes beginning to clear, she saw a deep blue sky above her, the color unlike anything she had ever seen before.

The breath she’d been inhaling caught in her throat.

“…so beautiful.”

* * *

Aboard the o’Anah’N'ret, the Rorsah stood beside the Vice-Captain, watching as the Slider’s vapor trail faded beneath them.

“What we do today will change us for all time.”

The Vice-Captain nodded, purple tinged mirror-mask reflecting the blue planet’s glow. “Perhaps she will find what we seek.”

“Perhaps,” the Rorsah agreed. “I doubt it though. Are the other Forerunners prepared?”

“Each o’Anah’N'ret reports ready.”

“She truly believed she was the only one…,” he shook his head. “Tell them to proceed.”

“If we find evidence of Homeworld on these first excursions, the Universe shall truly tremble.”

“The Universe should tremble, for we are returning and all that was lost shall be taken back.”

The Vice-Captain nodded at that as well.

~End

(for now)

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