“It’s just… I’ve been doing this for years and years and years and I never get any better.”
“Maybe you’re meant for other things, dear.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s just what I want to hear. I should give up on my dream and do something totally different.”
“Well, you’ve always been good at music.”
“No! No, I am not going to be a performer.”
“What about composing?”
“Robert, no. You know how I am about my work. No one else would ever play it to my satisfaction.”
“That’s your problem, Angelina. You’re too picky. Everything with you has to be just so. You should relax.”
“No, I should not. Look, I’m a reasonably talented physicist. You’re a reasonably talented aeronautics engineer. We both know this is possible. We should be able to make it work.” She wound her hair into a bun and then let it fall back over her shoulders. “Personally, I blame you.”
“Me? Why?”
“You’re too laid back. You lack ambition.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow. “I can’t believe this. You think if I burned myself up working on this, gave myself an ulcer, worked for days on end consuming nothing but coffee until I collapsed, we’d have gotten farther than we have already?”
“Yes.”
“Look, if we were both like you, we’d both be dead. How many times have I taken you to the hospital after you’ve worked yourself into a state of nervous exhaustion? How many times have I tended to our finances while you’ve been buried in your equations?”
She hung her head.
“I know…”
“I know you know. And I know this means more than life itself to you… And I know I don’t push the envelope the way you want me to. I know if we were both like me, we wouldn’t have gotten even a quarter of the way as far as we already have.”
“Really?”
“Really. And I know that we’ll finish this. I know we’ve already brought mankind twenty years closer to time travel, and I know that in your lifetime you will see the first time-traveler take his-”
“His?”
“-Or her first trip. In our timeplane.”
She smiled faintly. “It’s so good that you’ve got so much faith in me.”
“It’s so good I’ve got someone to have faith in. Now come on, we’ve got to get going. I’d hate to think of the Mentalist Society welcoming 1994 to Texas without us.”
Title: Wedded Bliss
Word Count: 403
Encylopedia: Clute, John and Nicholls, Peter; The Encylopedia of Science Fiction; New York; St. Martin's Press; New York; 1993, update 1995
Entry: Da Cruz, Daniel
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Volume One, Issue Three
Gardens that went on for miles, bounded by iron and stone. Beyond them, mystery. Within them, much the same.
It all depended on your point of view. Either you were within the walls or you weren’t and never the twain shall meet. Not even deliveries were handled by the same people on both sides of any gate. Orders were places in a box every day, which was slid through the wall. The next day, the deliveries were left outside the proper gate, signaled with the ringing of the bell, not picked up by those inside fro a full hour, enough time for those outside to “get them gone.”
Within the walls skirts and without, trousers.
“Never the twain shall meet” was a bit extreme. Some of them met. Rather frequently. Nightly, actually. Children had to come from somewhere, after all.
Chosen by lot, accompanied by a great deal of ceremony and pomp, drugged back to bestiality, left with only one another, just the pair, in a dark place deep in the earth. Somehow, they all figured it out. Eventually. And of course, the infants all had to stay inside the wall. For a time. Once the weaning was over, though, long before they’d remember anything, they’d be separated.
The anonymity caused occasional problems. Nothing that couldn’t be solved by a coolly administered dose of poison, though. And the pair responsible for the more abominable infants never needed to know how closely they were related. No one of consequence was every hurt by it.
All in all, it was a fairly equitable system. It had worked for over a thousand years and in all that time, only about a hundred had vanished from either group.
Funny how they always disappeared in pairs.
It all depended on your point of view. Either you were within the walls or you weren’t and never the twain shall meet. Not even deliveries were handled by the same people on both sides of any gate. Orders were places in a box every day, which was slid through the wall. The next day, the deliveries were left outside the proper gate, signaled with the ringing of the bell, not picked up by those inside fro a full hour, enough time for those outside to “get them gone.”
Within the walls skirts and without, trousers.
“Never the twain shall meet” was a bit extreme. Some of them met. Rather frequently. Nightly, actually. Children had to come from somewhere, after all.
Chosen by lot, accompanied by a great deal of ceremony and pomp, drugged back to bestiality, left with only one another, just the pair, in a dark place deep in the earth. Somehow, they all figured it out. Eventually. And of course, the infants all had to stay inside the wall. For a time. Once the weaning was over, though, long before they’d remember anything, they’d be separated.
The anonymity caused occasional problems. Nothing that couldn’t be solved by a coolly administered dose of poison, though. And the pair responsible for the more abominable infants never needed to know how closely they were related. No one of consequence was every hurt by it.
All in all, it was a fairly equitable system. It had worked for over a thousand years and in all that time, only about a hundred had vanished from either group.
Funny how they always disappeared in pairs.
Title: A Fairly Equitable System
Word Count: 291
Encylopedia: Clute, John and Nicholls, Peter; The Encylopedia of Science Fiction; New York; St. Martin's Press; New York; 1993, update 1995
Entry: Cabell, James Branch
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Voume One, Issue Two
“Now, how many of you can remember when the first light-bulb was made?”
A chorus of oohs and aahs and ME!s greeted the question, and Ms. Greenfeld made a show being overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of her students.
“You, Jim, do you remember?”
“Seventeen Eighty!”
“And does anyone remember who invented it?”
The same little chorus, the same little show.
“Alice, why don’t you tell us?”
“Binge- Behnjamin Frankline, ma’am!”
“Franklin, dear. Very good. Now, who remembers who first put the power of electricity to work in a device of computation?”
A little boy with shiny black hair flung his hand upward. “Lord Babbage, ma’am!”
“Very good, Arthur, but next time do wait until you’re called upon. Now, what was his device?”
“Me, me, pick me!”
“Susan.”
“The Analytical Engine, ma’am!”
“And when did it first become operational, Susan?”
“Eighteen-Fifty, ma’am.”
“And what could it do? Yes, Arthur?”
“It could correctly calculate mathematical equations, ma’am, when they were entered with punch-cards, and would punch out the answer on a blank card. It allow-”
“Thank you, Arthur. And who invented the first modern computer?”
“Nikola Tesla.”
“And who first pioneered the interweb systems? Jennifer?”
“Umm…”
“It was Grace Murray Hopper, children, who invented the first interweb in 1946. And isn’t it wonderful that just twenty years later all you have to do to access any information you want is log onto planet web from a data cube no larger than your lunchbox, without wires?”
Title: History Class, 1966
Word Count: 243
Encylopedia: Clute, John and Nicholls, Peter; The Encylopedia of Science Fiction; New York; St. Martin's Press; New York; 1993, update 1995
Entry: Babbage, Charles
A chorus of oohs and aahs and ME!s greeted the question, and Ms. Greenfeld made a show being overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of her students.
“You, Jim, do you remember?”
“Seventeen Eighty!”
“And does anyone remember who invented it?”
The same little chorus, the same little show.
“Alice, why don’t you tell us?”
“Binge- Behnjamin Frankline, ma’am!”
“Franklin, dear. Very good. Now, who remembers who first put the power of electricity to work in a device of computation?”
A little boy with shiny black hair flung his hand upward. “Lord Babbage, ma’am!”
“Very good, Arthur, but next time do wait until you’re called upon. Now, what was his device?”
“Me, me, pick me!”
“Susan.”
“The Analytical Engine, ma’am!”
“And when did it first become operational, Susan?”
“Eighteen-Fifty, ma’am.”
“And what could it do? Yes, Arthur?”
“It could correctly calculate mathematical equations, ma’am, when they were entered with punch-cards, and would punch out the answer on a blank card. It allow-”
“Thank you, Arthur. And who invented the first modern computer?”
“Nikola Tesla.”
“And who first pioneered the interweb systems? Jennifer?”
“Umm…”
“It was Grace Murray Hopper, children, who invented the first interweb in 1946. And isn’t it wonderful that just twenty years later all you have to do to access any information you want is log onto planet web from a data cube no larger than your lunchbox, without wires?”
Title: History Class, 1966
Word Count: 243
Encylopedia: Clute, John and Nicholls, Peter; The Encylopedia of Science Fiction; New York; St. Martin's Press; New York; 1993, update 1995
Entry: Babbage, Charles
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Volume One, Issue One
Small shifts, small sounds, small breaths. Five of them; large man, small man, tall man, tall girl, small girl.
Large man, gravelly voice, complaining. “They should have been here already."
Small girl, squeaky whispers. “Maybe they broke down.”
Husky laugh from the tall girl. “So our work’s been done for us. Perhaps there is a god.”
Tall man, hissing. “Customs at the first dock is probably holding them up. Be still.”
He’s the killjoy, that one. Always has been. Hateful and driven; a vengeful general leading wayward troops.
Small man, whispering. “Is this really necessary?”
“Of course,” says the tall man. “We’re doing what needs to be done. We won’t be drones, we won’t be ruled.”
Small girl, musing. “Well, someone has to rule.”
“Who says?” Tall man, philosophizing. “We dream of a free civilization, do we not?”
Tall woman, clear and cutting. “An anarchaical one, you mean.”
Tall man, snappish. “That attitude creates totalitarianism. People have the ability to interact freely and peaceful, without the cruelty and restriction of penal codes.”
Large man, directly. “We are neither free nor peaceful, John. You rule us, and we act with violence.”
“Only to throw off the yoke of oppression.”
“Yet this proves that violence is in us. What makes you think that when freed from laws it will abate?”
“We’ve at least proved that laws do little to hold it in check. And which one of you would betray us to the managers?”
“We might choose exile.”
“To live like rats?”
“Don’t we already?”
A grinding noise, a massive door opening, a ship sliding into the bay. Arguments aside, four people crouched in darkness, armed and silently ready.
The tall man, tense. “Ready?”
All, whispering. “Ready.”
Movement in the middle of the bay, the machine moving, the living cogs turning living gears. Workers, engaged.
Tall man, electric. “On my mark…”
Title: Not a Robbery
Word Count: 309
Encylopedia: Clute, John and Nicholls, Peter; The Encylopedia of Science Fiction; New York; St. Martin's Press; New York; 1993, update 1995
Entry: Abbey, Edward
Large man, gravelly voice, complaining. “They should have been here already."
Small girl, squeaky whispers. “Maybe they broke down.”
Husky laugh from the tall girl. “So our work’s been done for us. Perhaps there is a god.”
Tall man, hissing. “Customs at the first dock is probably holding them up. Be still.”
He’s the killjoy, that one. Always has been. Hateful and driven; a vengeful general leading wayward troops.
Small man, whispering. “Is this really necessary?”
“Of course,” says the tall man. “We’re doing what needs to be done. We won’t be drones, we won’t be ruled.”
Small girl, musing. “Well, someone has to rule.”
“Who says?” Tall man, philosophizing. “We dream of a free civilization, do we not?”
Tall woman, clear and cutting. “An anarchaical one, you mean.”
Tall man, snappish. “That attitude creates totalitarianism. People have the ability to interact freely and peaceful, without the cruelty and restriction of penal codes.”
Large man, directly. “We are neither free nor peaceful, John. You rule us, and we act with violence.”
“Only to throw off the yoke of oppression.”
“Yet this proves that violence is in us. What makes you think that when freed from laws it will abate?”
“We’ve at least proved that laws do little to hold it in check. And which one of you would betray us to the managers?”
“We might choose exile.”
“To live like rats?”
“Don’t we already?”
A grinding noise, a massive door opening, a ship sliding into the bay. Arguments aside, four people crouched in darkness, armed and silently ready.
The tall man, tense. “Ready?”
All, whispering. “Ready.”
Movement in the middle of the bay, the machine moving, the living cogs turning living gears. Workers, engaged.
Tall man, electric. “On my mark…”
Title: Not a Robbery
Word Count: 309
Encylopedia: Clute, John and Nicholls, Peter; The Encylopedia of Science Fiction; New York; St. Martin's Press; New York; 1993, update 1995
Entry: Abbey, Edward
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