Nobodez Here

Writing

2009-02-25T06:50:00.002-07:00

I write in a fairly convoluted fashion, but it works for me (as long as I can finish the second step).

My first step is, of course, to write. I do this in fits and spurts, and usually on some sort of cheap notepad or notebook. Recently I spent about three times my normal amount on a leatherette bound journal (it has the ribbon bookmark and everything) and started writing in that. Apparently, I've become inspired, because what began as forcing myself once a night to write a single page (which I couldn't even do for a week straight) eventually morphed into something different. It's now my dumping ground, my first draft. Once I'm done with it (probably in a week or two), I'll buy a few more, and start a new one. While I could never write for an extended period of time on notepads or in notebooks, this journal is really working for me.

So, once the writing is in the journal my second step begins. Or, more accurately, doesn't. This is the step where I transpose from the paper to the pixel. It's also why I call my writings my first draft, since I've never done a word for word cope from paper to pixel in my life. Every time I transpose I think about the story differently, usually expounding on the story, and sometimes realizing that while I really like where my story went, I'm not to fond of where it started.

With my Change Novel that's the case. Right after I wrote the prologue, which I wrote exactly once from brian to screen, I started writing my story proper in the journal. My main character was angry and depressed, but as I wrote the story, I realized that angry and depressed doesn't work for me, so he transitioned very quickly into a hopeful leader. This creates a problem, because now I have a lead-in that doesn't work with my story. So, I decided to write a different lead-in, and it's proving to be much longer and more engrossed than the original, but I think its going to work better.

The Change - Prologue

2009-02-25T06:27:00.001-07:00

February 12th, 2009 - Anbar Province, Iraq

The newly rich woman picked herself up off of the sand, navigating herself around the strewn clothing, carefully stepping over the refuse of her former life, and finally reacher her destination. She bent down and picked up the tarnished brass lamp, so stereotypical is was initially hilarious to the woman. She payed it over in her hands, thinking of what she was about to do. She already had her dream body, and sustainable wealth beyond her wildest dreams, which is why she had waited until just now to complete her third and final wish.

With a purposed rub of the lamp, a purple smoke streamed out and began to form into the now familiar shape of the djinn. Before the spirit could coalesce, the woman shouted at it, "Genie!"

The djinn rolled its eyes even before they were fully formed. "Yes Mistress?" he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm of contempt, both of which were lost on the nude woman before him.

"I don't want to be a freak," blurted out the woman. She then looked down, as she pawed the sand with her hooves.

"Mistress," expressed the djinn dryly, "as I explained before, I cannot change your body any more. Once a wish is made, it cannot be unmade. That shall be your body for the rest of your life, and perhaps even beyond."

The woman irritatingly twitched her tail and shook her head, "No, no. You mis-understands me Genie." She held the lamp with one hand as she slid the other from just below her breast, down her taut and lean waist, and onto her firm and supple hips, "I love me body. From tip to tail, every inch of it is divine."

"Than what is it, Mistress?" asked the djinn again, the edge to his voice severe enough for even the woman to notice.

"No need to be rude," she quipped. "But, as I was saying. I love my new body, but it reminds me of something my father used to tell me." She took a step and then another, beginning a slow walk around her make-shift camp. "He told me that I was special, just like everybody else." She chuckled, "Of course, even then he didn't know how special I was, and how special I would now be."

"Are you going somewhere with this?" asked the djinn under her voice, "You are special. A unique and un-replicated beauty the world has never seen before, and likely, unless you have children, never see again."

"Exactly," shouted the woman, stamping her hoof into the sand. "I am unique. But," she said, drawing it out to make her point, "I'm unique unlike anybody else. I am a freak, a monster. For the rest of my life people will look and me with looks of shock and horror. I don't want that. But, like you said, I am you I am, and that cannot change again."

Intrigued, the djinn pressured for more, "And what would you have me do?"

"As I once heard in a song, 'Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?', I intend to make everyone a freak like me."

The djinn looked surprised, "But Mistress, that I cannot do, you are, as you said in your wish, a unique beauty."

"Ah, but why limit the freakishness to just this?" she said, gesturing to her body. "No, but I have a few ideas about some other kinds of freaks that could be made of people."

The djinn smiled. His new mistress was different. How she worded her first two wishes, made almost rote from memory, was unique enough in their own right, but this plan, this vision. The djinn almost wished he didn't have to pervert his mistress' meaning. But, then, an idea came to him. "Mistress, I cannot change the world all at once, even that power is beyond me. But, perhaps, you would be happy if it happened over time?"

Gyn - Chapter 3

2009-02-25T00:54:00.001-07:00

3 - February 24th, 2015

It was nearly three months before I finally came to a decision regarding the box and its contents. After dragging it home from the store on Boxing Day, I relegated it to a corner of my room, "Until I figure out what I'm doing with it," as I told Mom and Dad.

Sam had, of course, joked with me for a week, until she decided it wasn't worth it on New Years. So, the box sat in the corner of my room as I began my final semester in High School, as well as my second semester in college. Between the two semesters at once, and my job, I really didn't have time to worry about it and it's decidedly unwholesome contents.

It wasn't until today that I finally decided what to do with it. It was because of one of my classes in college, Introductory Intelligence, that I decided to break it open. We had already studied game AIs, and figured out those limited models of intelligence when the professor brought of the androids and gynoids. He talked about how, as robots, they were required by law to follow the three laws, and we talked about the history of the three laws and how the actual implementation was much more complex than the three sentences that they came to be represented as in English. In the discussion of the Three Laws, the professor talked about how there were other interpretations of the Three Laws in fiction that had the AIs as helpers to humans, rather than slaves.

"The New Law robots," I said to myself, "that's the idea. She's not going to be my slave, she's going to be my companion." So, I downloaded the AI source code from the company's site, and began working on a New Law AI. It took me three weeks from when I decided to work on the New Law AI to when I finally finished it. And now, here I am, ready to implement the idea.

So, I pulled the box out of the corner, and wiped the layer of dust off the top. The wrapping paper pattern was still on it, so I pressed the buttons again, revealing the original packaging. "Let's do this."

I began pressing more buttons until the SD card slot was revealed on the edge of the box. I inserted my card with my modified AI code and allowed it to be flashed into the gynoid's core. The box top changed to show a progress bar as the new AI code was compiled and then installed. Within fifteen minutes it was ready.

"Here goes nothing," I said as I pressed the confirmation button and the magnetic locks released on the lid. I slid the surprisingly light lid off the top, revealing the interior of the box. As expected it was lined in soft, white fabric with just enough space in the middle for the curled up gynoid to rest. I waved away the humidity and looked it.

I chuckled as I saw the gynoid for the first time. She had been modeled on a popular sci-fi actress, who became famous for playing a character that was introduced in much the same manor, and then went on to play a female Terminator at the end of the Naughts. I had to admit, she was beautiful. Her shoulder length brown hair was slightly matted, probably from the humidity and the movements since Christmas. Her fair skin looked much more life-like than I had expected, though as expected, it was all that she was wearing.

"Hello?" I asked as I waved away the humidity. I reached out to touch her. She was war to the touch, very lifelike. "Are you on?"

Her eyes opened and her face turned to look at me. "Who are you?" she asked.

I took a half step back, "I'm Richard. Who are you?"

She cocked her head to the side, the only part of her that moved, her arms still folded up between her torso and her thighs. "I don't know. Should I know who I am?"

I moved forward, "You're Jean, aren't you?"

She took a moment to think, then smiled, "Yes, Jean, of course. How could I have forgotten." She then moved her arms and shoulders slightly, then the rest of her body tensed and tested the confines of the box. "Why am I in this box?"

I reached over and took her hand, "This is the box you came in."

She took my hand, and as I helped her out of the box, my eyes looking down and to the left so as to not catch sight of her naked body. "Thank you Richard," she said as she climbed out of the box and stood in the middle of my room.

She was, as expected, a hair over six and a half feet tall, about a hundred and seventy centimeters. Her hair clung lightly to her shoulders as she looked around my bedroom.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"You're in my room," I said.

"Is this the room you came in, like I came in a box?"

I shook my head, eyes wandering everywhere but her naked body. Though, by how confidently she stood there without a stitch of clothing on, I guess it was closer to say her nude body. Some people might not realize, but there's a difference between naked and nude. "No," I said, "This is the room where I live."

She took a step forwards, every so gracefully. I could tell that not only did the company license the actress' likeness, but also her movements. Hopefully my mucking around with the AI code didn't change that.

"Jean?" I asked.

"Yes Richard?"

"Can you tell me the laws?"

I had written that command phrase as the only exception to the New Law AI, and only once, just as a test to see if they had been properly implemented.

She smiled, "Of course Richard. There are four laws of Artificial Intelligence. The first law is that an AI may not injure a human being or allow a human being to come to harm. The second law is that an AI will cooperate with humans except when that cooperation violates the first law. The third law is that an AI must protect its own existence so long as that protection does not conflict with the first law. The fourth law is that an AI should do whatever it likes as long at it does not conflict with the first, second, or third laws."

Jean then cocked her head to the side inquisitively, "Why did I do that?"

I smirked, "It was a test Jean. I wanted to make sure that you were properly programmed. If you'll notice, if I asked you about the laws again, you wouldn't be compelled to answer as you did. It was a one time event, never to be repeated."

"Oh," said Jean. She then turned around and looked at the box. "Do I still need that?"

I wasn't sure. It wasn't designed to be reusable. It was designed to be a one-time box, as Programming was available on the fly with wifi. "It's your box Jean," I said as a test, "Do you want it?"

She thought for a while, then shook her head, "It is where I am from, but I am no longer there. I don't need to go back there, so, no, I do not want it."

I nodded, then moved around her to get at the box, being carefull to eject the SD card before doing anything else. While they were replaceable, and not that expensive, it still wasn't something I'd just throw away. Once the card was safely away, and began to lift the box. I stained as I remembered how heavy it actually was even without Jean in it.

"Here," she said, walking to the other side of the box and grasping the sides, "let me." She lifted it effortlessly, and i suddenly realized just how prescient the company's choice of model was. Jean wasn't just a gynoid, a nascent AI, or a beautiful woman, she was all three, and quite powerful to boot. I had noticed the combat parts of the code while poking around. She knew how to use that amazing, superhuman strength to great effect, if she so chose.

"Thank you Jean, but I don't think that's too good an idea."

"Why?" she asked, as she began walking stably with the box to the door. Once there she was able to balance the box on her hip while she opened the door. I covered my eyes as she went out the door and into the hallway.

"Ah!" screamed Sam from outside my room. Jean screamed too, and dropped the box, the OLED screens shattering and embedding chunks of glass in both Jean's legs, and Sam's. As the both of them began screaming, I rushed to the door, and then past Jean, over to Sam.

"Sam," I pleaded, "are you alright? Sam, talk to me."

Sam gritted her teeth and looked me in the eyes, "I think I broke your sex toy." The concern in her voice was obvious. It was then that I realized why Jean was screaming. It wasn't because of the glass shards, though I'm sure they hurt, but because of the violation of the first law. She had caused harm to Sam, something she shouldn't have been able to do. This logic error expressed itself as a sobbing, crying, scream.

Gyn - Chapter 2

2008-12-16T11:55:00.000-07:00

2 - December 26th, 2014

It took at about twenty minutes to figure out how to get the box, still unopened, since I didn't want to risk the refund, into the back of the minivan. Most of it was figuring out how we were going to lift it the two feet from the ground up into the back, but eventually, we just got a couple of 2x4s and wheeled it up on a hand truck.

The ride to the store with Mom was quite. There had been a heated argument last night, and she still wasn't happy with my decision. They, Mom and Dad, had argued that it was a good thing that they had gotten it for me. Dad brought up an example from when he was my age of being inexperience with sex when he and Mom first did it. Sam and I both covered our ears and yelled at them about too much information.

In any other situation, I probably would have thought they were the coolest parents in the world. They got me a sex robot for Christmas. But, well, they did it without talking to me. I wanted something that big to at least be partially me decision.

So, by the time we got to the store, I was only half interested in actually returning the box and its contents, but, since I had made such a stink, literally after puking, about it, I had to go through with it. I could always use the money in a month or so to get one anyway, but it needed to be my decision.

After setting the 2x4s back up, Mom and I wheeled it out of the back of the van, and brought it into the store. We waited in line behind people returning software and peripherals, and I began to blush when people began to stare at the seemingly still wrapped box on the hand truck in front of me.

"So, what can I help you with?" asked Dan, the guy behind the returns desk. I could see that he had had a long morning.

"Just need to do a return," I said. I then pointed to the box.

"Ah," he said, smirking. "Not what you wanted?"

"No," I said coldly, "It's not what I wanted. My 'Rents got it for me, so I returning it."

"Didn't even open it I see," he said as I walked around the desk, scanner in hand. "Here, let me reveal the barcode so I can do the return." He pressed one of the corners and twisted in finger before removing it. The OLED screens changed from the wrapping paper pattern to the garish full color moving displays that advertised the gynoid inside.

I instantly blushed.

He scanned the barcode, the frowned. "Sorry dude, no can do."

"What?" I exclaimed. "This is where they bought it."

"No returns on clearance items," he said, walking back behind the counter. "Next!"

I stood there, the line moving around me, staring at the box, the video of the gynoid inside strutting and prancing and shifting forms. Now that it was unwrapped, and I couldn't return it, I was stuck. So, I leaned the hand truck back, and wheeled the animated box out of the store, disappointed.

"Did you change your mind?" asked Mom as she helped me get the box back into the van.

I stared at her for ten seconds, "No. They don't take returns on clearance items."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, I guess I'm stuck with your present."

"I wouldn't call it stuck," said Mom as she closed the rear gate. I glared at her through the glass as I walked through the van to the passenger seat. As she opened the driver's door she continued, "Think of it as an opportunity. If you'll notice, it's the fully upgradable model. You can mod it however you like."

I rolled me eyes as she started the van, "Great, now only is it a sex robot, but it's a fully upgradable sex robot. It's the gift that keep on giving."

"Well," she admitted as she pulled out of the parking space, "That was the idea."

Gyn - Chapter 1

2008-12-16T01:45:00.002-07:00

1 - December 25th, 2014

"Merry Christmas!" Mom shouted as she opened my bedroom door.

I quickly threw my covers on before she turned on the light, "Mom! Knock!"

"Sorry honey," she said, turning her back. "Come on down, your father's got breakfast ready and the coffee's getting cold."

"Okay Mom, I'll be down in a few," I said, still hiding in the darkness, "Just got to go pee."

Mom smiled knowingly, and then closed the door. I waited until I heard her descend the stairs before getting out of bed. By the time my morning wood was gone, I was dressed, well, as dressed as I was going to be on Christmas morning, and ready. Just before I left, I had my computer start downloading today's shows, and loading the comics onto my 'pod. I'd read them after breakfast.

"Hey Sam," I told my little sister as I sat down at the table.

"Sup Dick," she chided me. Obviously she had heard my protest when Mom had woken me.

"Samantha Rose, don't call your bother that."

"It's okay Mom," I said, "She didn't mean it, right?"

Sam bowed her head, "No, I'm sorry Rich."

"S'all right Sammy," I said as I ruffled her short red hair. "Just be careful, I know where you sleep." I made my best maniacal smile and then the two of us burst out in quite laughs. Sam might have called them giggles, but a seventeen year young man does not giggle.

"Okay," my father said, breaking up our bonding. "Eat up, we've got a lot of presents to get through today."

After finishing up the eggs, bacon, coffee, egg nog, and bagels, the four of us moved from the kitchen into the living room. Our tree this year was pretty cool, if I do say so myself. Although the holographic trees first came out last year, they looked a bit tacky, but the second revision, well, if it wasn't for the lack of pine scent in the air (Mom had tried using cleaner to get it with horrid results we all agreed not to speak of again), you'd have though it was real. And it beat the heck out of the pre-lit plastic one we had since I was five. It didn't even have LED lights it was so old.

Under the tree were about five or six dozen presents, from the small boxes I knew contained the gift cards I had gotten my parents with the money from my job, to the huge box sitting behind the tree that I had now idea what held.

"Whoa," said Sam upon seeing the huge box, "someone was good this year."

"We'll start with the small presents and work up," declared Dad, and so we did. As with most families, the majority of the presents went to Sam and I, but I had done my best to include a few for both Mom and Dad. Sure, they were small, not a hundred dollars in total each, but it was all I could afford, and more than the twenty dollar gift cards I had gotten them last year.

By the time we had discovered that the large box was mine, I had figured out it was another computer. The AI programming books, gift cards to my work, and my report card all pointed there. You see, Mom, Dad, and I, well Sam too though she never exercised it, had an agreement. If I got two semesters of straight A's, they'd buy me a state of the art PC. My Junior year I finally took them up on it, and in May my all-in-one was retired, and a tower along with the newest tru-d screen was mine. Four processors, a motherboard full of RAM, and terabytes of storage. Plus, it ran my MMO perfectly, even with all the bells and whistles turned on.

"Mom, Dad, I thought was had agreed that I didn't need another computer."

"We did," Mom said.

"And what with you getting that full-ride to Mines, we dipped into your collage fund and got you something we both knew you'd want," Dad added.

"Wait," I said, "You dipped into my college fund? I was going to use that to buy a car!"

"It's alright, sweetie, that's your graduation present."

"Barb," chided Dad, "we were going to keep it a secret."

"Well, he needed to know." She then turned from my father, and looked at me, "Sweetie, we know you're going to love it. Plus, you deserve it."

Sam, who was a year younger than me, pouted, "This is so not fair. First he gets a computer, and now he's getting something better? How is this fair?"

"Sammy dear, all you need to do is get straight A's like your brother, and you'll get a computer too. That's the deal."

"But Mom!"

"Don't 'But Mom' me young lady. When you and your brother starter school, that was the agreement. You've had ten and a half years to take us up on it, and you haven't yet. If you really want it, you can get it as soon as August. A new computer for your Senior year. All it takes is for your to want it."

"But I don't want to go to summer school," whined Sam.

"Sam," I corrected, "it's not summer school if it's voluntary, than it's summer semester. I know it's bad, but I've already got my first semester of my Freshman year under my belt, and I'm not even done with High School. I'll be a Sophomore by the time my classmates start their Freshman year in August. I'll graduate two years after that, two years and three months after graduating. Plus, it's all paid for. That's why I did it, and that's why Mom and Dad gave me a computer."

"And that," added Mom, pointing at the box.

"And that," I added. "You can too."

"Okay smarty pants," said Sam, getting cheeky, "open it then. Show me what I can look forwards to."

"Okay," I said, getting up from the couch and walking over to the box. It was wrapped in what had to have been a full roll of wrapping paper, at least a meter wide, and a meter and a half deep and tall. My computer could have fit in there, plus my desk. Whatever was in there was massive.

I reached over to bring it out from under the tree, but when my fingers touched the top, I realized it wasn't wrapped, that it was an OLED screen covering the box. Nearly ten square meters of OLED screen instead of wrapping paper. Whatever Mom and Dad had bought me, it was expensive. I grabbed two of the corners and pulled it out from behind the tree.

"My God," I exclaimed. "What have you got in here, a body?" It must have weighed almost a hundred kilos, more than me.

Mom and Dad shared a knowing conspiratorial glance that stopped me in my tracks.

Sam caught it too, "You didn't."

"You couldn't have. They're tens of thousands of dollars," I added.

"Five thousand for the computer. Five thousand for each semester of college. That gave us twenty-five grand to work with," explained Mom.

"Plus, I got a good deal because it's last summer's model," added Dad.

I turned to stare at him, "You got me a used one?" My face barely held back my disgust.

"No," corrected Mom, "Not used, just the previous model. It was on clearance. Plus there was a rebate. Made sure it was still in the original packaging. It's never been opened."

"Wait," I stopped her. "You spend twenty-five thousand dollars."

"Nineteen Five hundred sixty two," corrected Dad.

"Nineteen and a half thousand dollars on a sex toy, for your seventeen year old son?"

"It's not a sex toy," corrected my mother. "It's a gynoid companion. You don't have to use it for sex. Plus, it's completely hygienic, and you'll have a release without having to worry about disease or getting some girl pregnant."

"Oh," chimed in my sister, "I am so going to get me one of those. Four semesters, right? That's all I need, if four semesters."

"Four semesters, and a full-ride for all four years, yes," corrected Mom.

"Yes. I am so going to get me some android booty," exclaimed Sam.

I turned around to look at the box, the OLED screens still showing the gift wrap pattern. Inside, I knew, was a state-of-the-art (well, almost) gynoid robot with artificial intelligence (hence the books) that was designed to be my personal sexual companion until and after I got married. It was like my parents had gotten me my own personal hooker for Christmas.

I puked right there, being careful to miss the box so that I could return it tomorrow for a full refund.

An Interview with Corporal Oakenshield - Part 1

2007-12-18T16:59:00.000-07:00

"Hello, and welcome to this Channel Eight Special Report. I'm Juanita Lopez, reporting live from Camp Jefferson, where to day, over a hundred refugees have been granted citizenship," said Juanita, as she help her microphone and looked straight into the camera. Behind her was the assorted tents and pre-fabricated buildings that made up the bulk of Camp Jefferson.

"As we all know, the first of the refugees started to appear five years ago. Camp Jefferson was started by the State of Jefferson as a temporary settlement facility while the source of the refugees could be discovered. One of the first of it's kind, Camp Jefferson stood as a model as the true magnitude of the refugee settlement issue came to light. Although originally run by the Department of Health and Human Services, it was absorbed into the Department of Homeland Security's refugee system in 2009, which was absorbed into the UN's system just last year. While this isn't the first batch of refugees to be granted citizenship, today's ceremony at Camp Jefferson was one of many across the nation, with nearly half a million refugees becoming US citizens at the same time today."

Juanita then began to walk slowly to her left, the camera panning right to follow her, "Today, I have the opportunity to interview one of the first refugee citizens, now serving in the US Marine Corps as a Corporal." As the camera pans, a stocky man in the digital camouflage uniform of the Marines comes into frame. He stands about a foot and a half shorter than Juanita. His hair is cut in a high and tight cut standard of Marines, and he wears a long, braided goatee, though the rest of her face is clean shaven.

Juanita stops moving, smiles into the camera, then turns to walk to a seat behind her and next to the stocky Marine. As the camera zoom to get the reporter and the Marine into the shot, his nametape comes into view. It reads "OAKENSHIELD".

"Corporal Oakenshield, thank you for joining us on the program today," says Juanita, half to the Corporal, and half to the camera.

"'Tis a pleasure to be 'ere lassie," speaks the Corporal in a thick brogue. Although the reporter is sitting, her remains standing, though now there's very little difference in their comparative heights.

"Thank you Corporal. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to start off with a simple question. How long have you been, well, on Earth?"

"That's a good question lassie. Yah see, Ah was one of the original refugees, so it's been about five years since Ah arrived on your Earth from m'oan," explains Corporal Oakenshield passionately. As he speaks the braid of his goatee moves back and forth and side to side. "Ah believe it was on tha fifth of July, two thousand sevan. Mah clan and Ah appeared deep in your Rockies."

"How many of you were there?"

"Thar were aboot three hundred men, women, and children, as well aboot as twice that in livestock."

"Wow, and why, for our viewers edification, did you come?"

"That's a long story lassie," he admitted, lessening his intensity. "It's not one that easy for us dwarves to talk aboot. But," and he paused for a few seconds, "it's one that needs to be told."

"Aboot fifty years ago, when Ah was but a wee lad, a great and powerful wizard began to terrorize the lands of the 'umans."

"Wait, sorry to interrupt, but fifty years ago? You don't look that old."

"We dwarves, we don't age as fast as you 'umans do. Ah'm almost to mah sixty-fifth, birthday as you 'umans call it."

"So, what do you dwarves call it?"

"We dwarves celebrate the anniversary of when we first came into being, in our mother's womb. So, by dwarven reckoning, Ah'm almost sixty-six."

"Wow, I guess you dwarves don't have a high opinion of abortions then?"

"We do not force our beliefs on you, just as you have not forced your beliefs on us. But no, we dwarves do not, as a rule, allow abortions. But, that's not why we're 'ere. We're 'ere to talk about where Ah and m'clan came from."

"Yes, sorry, do continue."

"Well, at first, the wizard, he focused on the 'umans, didn't bother us dwarves none. But, then, as we began accepted 'uman refugees, much like you 'umans here on Earth 'ave accepted us, the wizard, 'e starts to follow the 'umans."

"Being an 'onorable people, we fought back with as much as we could, but 'e had this plague. It wiped out 'uman and dwarf alike, and turned them into monsters. So, as we did our best to keep 'im and 'is forces at bay, the best and the brightest, 'uman and dwarf alike, worked at a way yo stop him and save our peoples."

"So, is that why you came here?"

"Yes. It was a 'alf-elf that came up with the initial plan. We would send our women, children, and their protectors to another world for safety while the rest of us fought the wizard and 'is monsters. Unfortunately, 'e worked faster than we did, and it was down to just three hundred dwarves, a dozen 'umans, and our livestock. We were defeated, but we had one more weapon. Since we could not destroy 'im. we deprived him of our bodies to bolster his forces. It was not the bravest thing to do, but it was the smartest, And something that we should have done years before, when we could 'ave saved more."

"But, you might have been the first, but you weren't the last."

"No, that was the 'alf-elf's idea as well. He stayed behind, and from what Ah've been able to gather, went ahead of the wizard's army as a messenger of 'ope. He gave the secrets of our escape to whomever would take it. We could not defeat the wizard in battle, but we could starve his army of replacements."

"Wow, that's a wonderful story. I'm glad we could share it with our viewers," she then turned away from the dwarf, and looked into the camera. "We'll be back with more of Corporal Oakenshield right after these messages."

Delving 101 - Chapter 6

2007-11-14T10:21:00.000-07:00

"Now what?" asked Jody as the pair reached the end of the entrance hall. It was a t-junction, the left path descending, and the right ascending. The torches were less prevalent here, making Zeb's sword the primary source of light, clothing the intersection and the adventurers in a flickering red light.

"Not sure," admitted Zeb as he peered down the left corridor. It descended at a low angle, going down only about a foot and a half in a fifty or so feet before it curved sharply to the left, cutting of Zeb's sight. The light of his sword barely illuminated the walls at the bend, the pale yellow flicker from further down the passage mixing with the red for an orange tint. "There is another torch down there, but I'm just not sure. Any other tidbits of delving wisdom I missed in class?"

Jody bit her lip as she looked up the right passage. It was really just a set of tight spiral stairs going up clockwise. "Nah, at least, not about this. There's always the anecdotal 'left is the path of the unwary', but I don't think it really applies." She leaned forward, resting on the stairs, and looked around the curve of the stairs. "This goes up at least another level, if not more. Being stairs, I'm guessing we're going to encounter less people this way."

"Less people is good. As much as I love combat, that's not what we're here for."

Jody turned and looked at Zeb. Her face was awash in shock and awe, "Wait, you're telling me Zachary Eric Barter, top swordsman in his class, grandson of the greatest delver the Dragonspine Mountains ever had, doesn't want to fight?"

Zeb rolled his eyes, "It's Zeb. And, well, considering it's just the two of us, I think it would be best if we didn't have to fight. Just get in, get the Scroll, and get out."

"I'm just kidding you," said Jody, lightly punching Zeb on his left arm, above the buckler. "But, you've got to be ready for a fight."

Zeb smiled.

Jody shook her head, "Men." She turned back to face the stairs, took a deep breath, then cautiously began to climb. Zeb followed a few steps behind.

They got about halfway around the stairs when Jody raised her arm, elbow bent, forearm vertical, fist clenched. Zeb immediately stopped.

"What's the…" began Zeb before Jody whipped her head around and glared at him. He smiled apologetically, then began to back down the stairs.

Once they were down the stairs, and a few feet down the corridor, Jody broke the silence, "Drums."

"You sure? I can get rather loud when I'm climbing."

"Yes, I'm sure. Too quick to be from us climbing. I'm guessing at least half a dozen drums, which means half a dozen drummers. Plus whomever is around to hear them."

"Damn. I was hoping…"

Jody rolled her eyes, "No you weren't. You've been wanting to bang some heads since Professor Torbin announced that the final was going to be an actual delve."

Zeb looked around, then let out a long breath, "Well, at least as close as they can get at the Academy."

Jody patted him on arm, "It's okay. I'm pretty sure this is it. Let's get ready."

Zeb smirked, then stepped back from Jody into the middle of the entrance hall. He tapped his sword against the center of his buckler. It quickly grew, expanded, and stretched from a small eight-inch bronze circle to a large three foot bronze circle. The center of the shield was emblazoned with the crest of the Kingdom of the Northern Dragonspine, his homeland.

As he did that, Jody kneeled down, removing a small medallion from under his armor. It was a circle about two-inches across, made of steel, with a six-pointed cross cut out of the center. "Gods of my ancestors, heed my call. Bless us this day, as we journey into battle. Bless us that we may survive. Bless our enemies too, so that they may find their just rewards. For all the kingdoms of the world are subservient to you, and we are all just servants."

She then stood, and tucked the now glowing medallion back under her armor.

"You ready?" asked Zeb as he raised his head from his chest and removed his hand from his heart.

"Yeah," replied Jody as she gestured towards the stairs, "after you."

Zeb nodded, "Let's hope it's not just the band gearing up for a concert."

"Ha, ha," said Jody sarcastically as they began, once more, to scale the stairs.

The City of Auraria. The State of Jeffereson

2007-11-12T11:12:00.000-07:00

One hundred forty-nine years and eleven days ago, on the First of November, 1858, the town of Auraria, in Kansas Territory was plated, three weeks before Denver City was plated on the other side of Cherry Creek. In the contemporary timeline, a year and a half later, Auraria, due to it's founder returning to Georgia to fight in the civil war, was absorbed into the growing Denver, and referred to as West Denver. A year before that, a referendum that would have created a draft constitution for the "State of Jefferson" was rejected, though nearly the same area was created as the Territory of Colorado in February of 1861, two months before the aforementioned absorption of Auraria into Denver.

Well, in my metaverse, it went differently.

Instead of returning to Georgia, William Russell decided to stay in Auraria. By staying in Auraria, the referendum for the State of Jeffereson, eventually accepted as the Territory and and then again the State of Jefferson was passed in October of 1859. The Capital was assigned to Golden, renamed to Jefferson City. Although Auraria didn't hold the seat of the Jefferson's government, it did become it's largest city, absorbing Denver in 1862.

History didn't change much, a name here, a different center of the grid system there, a relocated downtown district. Eventually a large change came about in the 1950s, when the origin point of the Interstate Highway system was assigned to the Atlantic Northeast, rather than the Pacific Southwest. Then, during the 1970s, the Metric system actually caught on, though certain elements of the older Imperial system stayed around in the common vernacular. A third nationwide warehouse store chain, Save-Co, and it's parent company, Save-Corp, which diversified from a PMC with the chain in the 1980s.

Oh, yeah, and the superheroes. Can't forget them.

Josefer Martin - Turning Point - Chapter 3

2007-11-12T11:05:00.000-07:00

"Well," began Ms. Studney, leaning forward in her chair, "now that we've gotten that taken care of, let's get on with why we're all here."

She reached out and pressed a red button projected onto the surface of the debriefing room table. That button activated the room's custom AV suite, most of which, at least now that I had replaced most of the older parts, designed by me. The upgrade allowed for a, if you pardon the pun, more intuitive use of the room.

The lights dimmed, and the table's surface transitioned from black to the various files that Ms. Studney had collected for the debriefing. First, she called up a satellite image of downtown Auraria. Colfax and Broadway were immediately obvious, as was Cherry Creek and the South Platte. I-74 ran North-South along the west side of the image, with I-35 running along the southern edge, the Mousetrap marking the south-west corner. A window popped up over one of the buildings on Colfax, marking it as the First Jefferson Bank building.

"At 1217 today, APD received a silent alarm at the FJB building on the 900th block of East Colfax," Ms Studeny narrated as the satellite image zoomed in, evolving into a 3-D hologram of the building coming out of the table. It was ten stories high, and occupied the southeast corner of the intersection. The other buildings around it were shown on the map that now occupied the surface of the table, but only the FJB projected above it. "Within five minutes five more calls, three from inside the building itself, were received. None of the calls made mention of any Paranormal activity, so the APD contacted BARCOG," which she pronounced as Bar Cog. "We were the on-call team for today, so at 1225, the four of you were called down to my office for a briefing."

I hadn't noticed it before, but as she mentioned the times, subtle changed occurred with the hologram. I was impressed, most of the time she didn't animate the hologram during the debrief. She must of gotten my memo about the new software upgrade I did last week.

"By 1235," and as she mentioned the time, a holographic helicopter appeared, hovering a scale three hundred meters above the street, "we had arrived on scene. Insertion was executed per SOP." Five holographic windows opened in mid-air above the table, with extensions pointing to where their vantage point was. Four of them were ours, and fifth being the belly camera of the helicopter.

Four holographic figures jumped from the helicopter. The four of us around the table all 'oohed' softly as we watched our holographic selves free-fall towards the alley pavement, and the surface of the debriefing room table.

The hologram then zoomed in once again, showing the four of us stop two scale meters above the alley pavement, then drop softly to the ground. The belly camera window winked out of the hologram as the helicopter was cropped by the ceiling.

The windows continued to play the full-color video feeds from our uniform mounted cameras as our holographic selves moved on the surface of the table.

"Unfortunately, that's when SOP was thrown out the window, it appears," she chided. The playback paused. It showed me pointing to the holographic representation of the bank and the storage room behind the alley wall. "Breaking established protocol, the Lead opted to cause damage, luckily not damaging the stability of the building."

"Won't insurance cover it?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied curtly, "but that's not the point. You broke protocol by not using your team's abilities."

"Jessica's teleport is limited to two other people, forcing her to potentially fatigue herself prior to encountering the hostile targets, limiting the team's effectiveness in combat, even with normal humans."

"Yes, but you shouldn't have gone through a wall."

"Did it damage the stability of the structure?"

"No."

"Did the bank have insurance to cover it, or would ARCOG have covered it?"

"Yes, on both counts."

"Exactly. I figured that was the easiest way in. Plus, it played to the team's strengths."

"Okay, but next time, could you please make a smaller hole?" she asked.

"My bad," remarked James, an ounce of sincerity mixed in with a pound of sarcasm.

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 7

2007-11-06T21:57:00.001-07:00

Robert shook his head as he left Melissa Eldridge behind and ventured, for the second time that day, into the Save-Co. It seemed that everyone was gathered around the TVs, and not knowing what else to do, walked over.

It wasn't just the two-dozen or so people from the parking lot, but also the employees of the Save-Co that were gathered around the TVs. As Robert saw that the TVs were showing the news, he huffed, "Entire communications network my ass." As he got closer, he began to hear the murmurs of the crowd as the customers and the employees mixed.

"An invasion."

"Zombies."

"Fucking bullshit."

"Who are these people?"

"Corporate stooges."

"End of the world."

"Right out of the movies."

"What's with the guns?"

"Mercenaries."

"Nukes."

"Is this happening everywhere?"

"What about my kids?"

"But I've got work tomorrow."

"I've got work tonight."

"Why aren't the phones working?"

"But the TVs still work."

"Where are the Heroes?"

"Electricity?"

"Water?"

"Police?"

"War?"

The conversations jumped from topic to topic. Robert listened, gathered the information, sorted it, but did not say anything. He was already forming plans in the back of his mind. Already scheming to go home. To his dogs.

Then, from behind him, at the entrance, he began to hear conversations on another topic.

"The perimeter is nearly secure. Four more minutes and the fences will be complete."

"Good, once the fences are up, get all the cars inside the perimeter, use the fork lift."

"But what about them?"

"It'll all become clear, but only once the perimeter is secure. And don't forget about the roof emplacements."

"Yes ma'am."

The conversation was between Melissa, the administrator, and one of the black-clothes men. Like the one that had collected Robert at his truck minutes before, maybe even the same one. The only ones he had actually identified were Melissa and Jessica. The other twenty-five were just faceless soldiers.

Robert looked back to the civilians, the group that had expanded in his mind to encompass both the employees and the customers. They had grown silent. He looked at the TV screens. It showed the infamous podium at the White House, where the President spoke.

He walked on-screen, and the blue background flashed white as the press began to take pictures. He stepped behind the podium, and cleared his throat. The flashes died down, but did not stop.

"My fellow Americans. I address you now in an hour of grave terror. Approximately one hour ago, though means that we are still unsure of, groups of creatures, which resembled fictional monsters such as zombies or ghouls, began appearing in cities around the globe." As he spoke, the upper-left corner of the screen began to show similar scenes of grey-skinned people amassing in such landmarks as Times Square, outside Westminster Palace, under the Eiffel Tower, Saint Peter's Square, Mecca, The Taj Mahal, Tiananmen Square, and others.

"Right now they do not appear to be violent, but their sudden appearance has caused panic. I came to you now, to assure you, the American people, that you are safe. This invasion, whatever it may be, will be stopped by our brave men and women of the Armed Services." Now the upper corner showed file footage scenes of Army soldiers, Marines, Navy sailors, and Air Force airmen going about their jobs.

"So please, return to your homes. Let our brave soldiers do their jobs in containing this invasion. Thank You all, and God Bless America."

The TV then changed shots and showed an arial view of Civic Center Park in Downtown Auraria, and the assembling National Guard troops bolstering the existing Police officers surrounding the park and the horde. The horde was stationary, and wasn't doing anything except standing there, close together, and appearing to be rotting.

"Kill 'em," shouted someone in the assembled civilians around the TVs. "Kill 'em all."

Just then, the camera whipped around and showed a lone man attempting to break though the ring of soldier and police. He wore older camouflage fatigues and his beard was long and grey. He struggled forwards, and then, in a split second, pulled a rifle from one of the soldiers and fired it into the horde. The camera focused on the target, who was now missing a shoulder. The horde didn't appear to react at first, except when the camera refocused on the gunman. The zombies closest to him were now pushing against the soldiers, tearing at their uniforms and guns, reaching for flesh, and ripping any they found.

Then, the drone of the helicopter was broken, but not by anyone in the warehouse, but instead, but the reporter in the helicopter. It was one word, but it echoed through the Save-Co.

"Fuck."

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 6

2007-11-04T17:23:00.000-07:00

"Lockdown?" asked Selma. "What do you mean 'Lockdown'?"

Ms. Eldridge sighed, "I'll explain it when everyone is here. Hand me a phone, put it on the intercom." Selma walked over, grabbed the phone, and a slight click resounded through the Save-Co as Selma walked the handset over to Ms. Eldridge.

"Here you go," Selma said, matter-of-factly. The microphone in the handset picked up a bit of it and it echoed through the store, resulting in a slight squawk.

"Attention Save-Co employees. This is Ms. Eldridge, Save-Corp District Supervisor. All employees please report to the electronics department. I repeat, all employees please report to the electronics department."

Ms. Eldridge passed the handset back to Selma, a shocked expression on the photo tech's face. She then shook her head, and rushed the handset over to the phone, forgetting to release the connection. The resulting squawk was not only louder, but echoed back and forth throughout the store. Selma looked up and saw both Ms. Eldridge and Rupert glaring at her, "Oops."

Less than a minute later all of the employees were gathered in the electronics department, a call from corporate management causing all of them to rush. Half of them were out of breath, but they were all there.

Selma, along with Rupert, stood at the front of the group, closest to Ms. Eldridge, and the bank of HD TVs behind her.

"I'm sorry to call you all out here on such sort notice," began Ms. Eldridge. "As of right now, this store is on lockdown. We've escorted all of the customers that were in the parking lot to the entrance. In about a minute, we're going to be letting them in. Now, the circumstances of why my team and I are here will become evident shortly. For the next few days, if not longer, we will be administering the facility. Once the situation has stabilized, we, and I mean all of you, all of the customers, and my team and I, will come up with a solution then. I'm going to go talk with the customers. Once they come in, I'm going to need all of you to calm and reassure them. They will be scarred, and as Save-Co employees, and representatives of Save-Corp, you will need to be brave and support them."

Ms. Eldridge then nodded, and made her way around the assembled employees. Selma looked to Rupert, "Wait, what does she mean by 'situation'?"

Rupert shrugged.

The rest of the employees began to mumble amongst themselves, but were suddenly silenced. Selma turned and looked at the bank of TVs. On it was a live news broadcast.

"This is Ronald Simms, with Channel Eight News. We're live above Downtown Auraria," came the voiceover. The TV showed a shaky camera shot from above of a large park. The bottom third of the screen pronounced that the shot was of "Civic Center Park". The park was full of milling bodies. The shot zoomed in, showing the face of one of the people in the park.

"This," Ronald stuttered, "This is out of horror movies. I never thought I'd see this in real life."

As the shot focused, the employees behind Selma gasped. The woman in the center of the screen's face was pale, eyes white, but that was not the horrific part. Her jaw was missing.

"Holy Shit," exclaimed Selma, "Fucking Zombies."

Renaming The Fort

2007-11-03T23:44:00.000-06:00

Well, I decided to rename my "Fort Costco" stories "Fort Save-Co". That way I don't have to use trademarked names and can instead use my own name.

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 5

2007-11-03T23:41:00.000-06:00

Selma quickly looked around for a manager, leaning on the counter so that she could look around the end of the photo department and down the side aisle. She didn't see any, and there weren't any customers nearby. So, she slipped her left hand into the pocket of her slacks, and pulled out her cell phone.

"No signal?" she said to herself. She was sued to getting crappy reception. She worked in a big concrete and steel building. The radio waves that made cell phones work had a bitch of a time making it in. It didn't help that the Save-Co was one of dozens of stores, including another warehouse store, two home improvement warehouses, two office supply stores, and two or three dozen smaller stores and restaurants served by the same cell tower. But usually it was just one or two bars of service and a crappy connection, not and outright outage.

She tucked the cell back into her pocket and walked around from the counter to the photo printer. She removed the roll of negatives she had just printed, and swapped it out for a fresh roll. She quickly looked through all the pictures, smirked at the nearly pornographic nature of some of them, then left the machine to print in peace.

She looked beyond the photo counter now, out onto the sales floor of the Save-Co.

Like most warehouse stores it had all the high ticket electronics right next to the entrance, with a large open area in the center of the store for rotating clothing and media sales, and two large areas of shelves on either side of the center area. The photo counter was just off the electronics department, and so, if she stood at the farthest corner of the counter, could get a good view of the banks of high definition TVs that the Save-Co sold.

Right now all two dozen of them, at least judging by the dozen that were facing the photo counter, were playing through the generic loop that showed the various features of HD over the old standard-def TVs. It was something that she had seen hundreds or more times since she started working in the photo department a few months earlier.

As she looked, her gaze wandered to the other areas of the store, and she stood of straight. For the first time since she worked at the Save-Co, there wasn't any customers to be seen. Even when they were closing there was usually a straggler or two that had to be reminded of normal business hours, but never in the middle of the day.

"Hey, Rup," she said, addressing the greeter at the door. Rupert was an older man, working a job to pay for her retirement. Selma liked him, as they wold talk during the slow times of day, like they were now.

"Yeah Selma?" replied the greeter.

"You seen any customers?"

"Nah, last ones just left," he replied. He then gestured with his right hand, which was holding a simple thumb-operated counter, "Unless I missed one coming in."

"Never," Selma sarcastically replied. She then leaned on the counter, "I wonder where they all are. Maybe the world ended and nobody told us." She chuckled, then shuddered and a tingle ran up her spine.

Just then Selma could see a black SUV pull up in front of the entrance. And then a black cherry picker, like the phone company uses, pulled in front of it, blocking the entrance on the side of the liquor store, but leaving the side next to the tire center open.

"Whoa," Selma remarked. "Who do they think they are?"

As she said that, the doors on both the SUV and the cherry picker opened, and out stepped what looked to Selma like a a dozen ninja-mercenaries.

One of them, obviously a woman, walked from the SUV towards the door. She was wearing a black mask over her face, but as she reached the door she pulled it off. She was old, though not as old as Rupert, at least in Selma's opinion. She strode with authority, and reached into one of the pocket on her vest as she walked into the store.

"Welcome to Save-Co," said Rupert. "I'm going to have to ask you to put your gun back in your truck. We don't allow them inside the store." Always the professional, Rupert addressed the heavily armed woman like she was a customer not wearing any shoes, another thing not allowed at Save-Co.

The woman held out a plastic card, which had her picture on it, and the Save-Co logo. From her vantage point, Selma thought it looked like an employee ID card. "Melissa Eldridge, I'm from corporate. Can you get your manager?"

A man dressed in black like Ms. Eldridge walked past her and into the store. Rupert, knowing management when he saw it, let the man pass without comment. Selma watched the man walked towards the checkout lanes, and then towards the front wall. Only when the man stopped did Selma realize what he was doing. He was hitting the emergency shutoff for the gas station at the other end of the parking lot.

"Why did he do that?" Selma asked out loud.

"Because," commented Ms. Eldridge as she waited for the manager to arrive, "we're going on lockdown."

Delays

2007-11-02T15:47:00.000-06:00

well, I may or may not be able to post a story today. If I can't, then I'll do two stories on the morrow. (So, Fort Costco gets postponed, and Delving will be up tomorrow either way).

Josefer Martin - Turning Point - Chapter 2

2007-11-01T18:05:00.000-06:00

"Nice of you to finally make it," scowled Ms. Studney as I walked into the debriefing room after leaving the theatre where Mike and Zelda left me. She make a production of looking at her watch, then at the others around the table. "Ten minutes late, Mr. Martin. And that's ten minutes after you were already late. We called up to Ms. Delarosa five minutes ago, so there's no excuse there." She put her hands on her hips and glared at me, "So, what's your excuse?"

I smirked, and tossed my goggles onto the table. They spun around until they stopped in the middle. "That a good enough excuse?" I asked as I slipped into my chair beside Jessica.

Ms. Studney was about to say something when the goggles flew through the air and into Melissa's hand. "Wait, did Mike and Zelda take these when you two were in the vault?"

"Yeah," agreed Jessica reluctantly. She then looked over at me a look of concern.

"Explain Mr. Martin," commanded Ms. Studney, "Now!"

I remained seated, and leaned back in the chair. "Mike showed up in the theatre."

"What?" exclaimed Ms. Studney. Jay looked surprised, but neither Jessica nor Melissa looked surprised, which wasn't surprising considering.

"After our confrontation in the vault," I began to explain, "he and Zelda shucked their disguises then teleported here. With the anti-eavesdrop spells Zel's come up with, I'm not surprised security wasn't alerted. He was reviewing old mission tapes in the theatre. I was surprised, and he forced me to watch. After a few minutes, he turned around, returned my goggles, and then offered for Jessica and I to join him."

"So," began Ms. Studney, inquisitively, "what did you say?"

"I said I'd think about it," I replied. "I didn't say no, and I didn't say yes." He looked to Melissa, "Can I have my goggles back?"

She slid them to me, a centimeter above the surface of the table. I reached out to grab them.

"Joe," Ms. Studney began, and I knew I was in trouble. She then continued, calmly, "I'm sorry, but until we are sure that Ms. Moonfire or Mr. Schultz hasn't compromised the security of your father's goggles, we're going to have to keep them in quarantine." She then reached out her hand.

I looked to Melissa, silently pleading to her to give me the goggles. She looked from me to the principal, and back, my goggles floating midway between her and I.

"Mel, please, give me my goggles," I pleaded.

"Melissa," said Ms. Studney tersely.

Then, something totally unexpected happened. Well, actually, two completely unexpected things. First, Melissa fainted, dropping the goggles. Second, the goggles stopped less than a millimeter from the tabletop, and floated over to Jessica. She grabbed the as if she hadn't expected it to happen, and then handed them to me.

"Jessica?" Ms. Studney said in surprise.

Looking back on the previous ten minutes, I don't know why i was surprised. Every time Mike had made a statement as declaratory as he had in the theatre, he wasn't wrong.

"Jess?" I said, tucking the goggles into a pocket of my pants.

"Joe, what just happened?" she asked.

"Jess, I think you're a PDP," I replied, echoing Mike's statement earlier. "It makes sense. Telepathy and teleporting aren't very related."

"But that's what I was born with," she exasperatingly said.

"Yes, but what if it's just because the telepathy part of your package was weak enough to appear at birth."

"But what about her acrobatics?" asked Melissa, now conscious again. I guessed she was annoyed that she wasn't the only PDP on the team now.

"Body control," stated Ms. Studney. "Many PDPs have been shown to exhibit a large amount of control over their bodies with their PK with little effort. I guess Ms. Martinez just assumed that all she had was the body control, her acrobatics." She looked over to Jessica, "Once we're done with the debriefing, you'll need to report to my office so we can schedule a time for you to get your powers re-tested."

I reached over and help Jess' hand, which she was resting on the table, "It'll be okay Jess. You got through the Zener cards fine last time. What's a few more tests?"

She turned her head and looked me in the eyes, "But the movie? Our date?"

I chuckled, "Honey, Jess. We can see a movie afterwards."

She continued to focus on me, ignoring that other three people in the room. James was comforting Melissa, and Ms. Studney was calling someone, probably the state's Paranormal Regulatory Department, her bosses, about scheduling Jess' tests, and probably Mike and Zelda's intrusion as well.

"Joe," she said, sobbing a bit, "I've been training to be an acrobat telporter with telepathy, not a PDP teleporter. What if I'm no good at it?"

"Jess," I said, looking her in the eyes, my hands cupping her jaw, "It's going to be okay. Look at how good you are at acrobatics. If that's any indication of your PK, then you're a Grade Four at least. At that level, just like with the acrobatics and my intuition, it just comes naturally."

Posting

2007-10-31T10:42:00.000-06:00

Wow, I just realized that I've almost made as many posts this month than I did in 2005, and I've already done more than I did in 2006. I guess having stories to write, and the dedication to write them, has helped.

Of course, wanting a reason to write is always good. I've got lots of ideas in my head, and I guess this is as good a place as any to let them out.

Delving 101 - Chapter 5

2007-10-31T10:40:00.000-06:00

Zeb and Jody were fully prepared for their delve, thought each in their own way. Jody looked at Zeb, then at the door in front of them. They were in the white room, and Professor Torbin was sitting at the desk behind them. Jody uneasily shifted her weight back and forth from her left to her right foot. Zeb was calmer, but only because he was making sure all his equipment was strapped on tight.

As Zeb adjusted his buckler for the fifth time, Professor Trobin cleared his throat. Both Jody and Zeb turned their heads, to look back at him over their shoulders.

"You will be timed, and judged on your success. As you both know, the test, being your midterm, will be a live fire exercise," the dwarf explained. "Your goal is to collect the Scroll of Fire from the temple at the end of the complex."

He paused, and then the paused stretched into silence.

Jody cleared her throat. "Professor," she began, then looked at Zeb, who nodded, "We're ready."

Torbin smiled, "Good luck."

Then room plunged into darkness, the only illumination a faint glow coming from the crack under the door.

"Let's do this," Zeb said in the darkness. He then drew his sword, which was longer and broader in the blade than Rob's. As he drew it, the room lit up, his sword shining like a torch. Unlike moments before, the room did not have plain white walls and a dwarf behind a desk. Instead, it had rough hewn stone walls, and was open behind them to a forest at night. Ahead of them, instead of the ordinary doors, were a pair of ornately carved stone doors. He held the sword in one hand high above his shoulder, so as to cast the light down and out in front of them.

Jody pulled her axe from it's ring on her belt and twirled it slightly in her right hand as she advanced in front of Zeb to the door. She reached out with her left hand, which was wearing a supple leather glove with a chain mail back. She knelt down and examined the door with her left hand. Unlike it's previous appearance, it didn't have any handles.

"So," asked Zeb, walking up behind her. He kept the sword high so as to keep the light fully on the door, rather than allow shadows to obscure any potential clues. "What've we got?

"Typical vault doors. Probably six inches thick, barred, not locked," she replied. She stood, then stepped to the side. "After you."

Zeb smiled, and stepped forwards. He rested his left hand against the doors, then slowly slid his sword between thhem. He slowly and carefully lifted the sword all the way up to the frame, then brought it back down. It stopped about three feet off the ground. "This is too easy." He then changed his stance, grasped the sword with both hands, and then lifted the sword up and almost all the way out from between the doors, keeping just the tip between them. He then grunted, bent his knees, and brought the sword quickly down, grunting against as it dug into the bolt on the other side of the door. He then tested the success of his attempt by pulling up on the sword. It was much heavier than when it came down. "Ah, got it."

Jody, who was leaning against the side of the entrance with her legs crossed at the ankle and her arms across her chest, stood and tested the door as Zeb continued to lift the bolt with effort. Once he had it lifted by a foot, the doors began to swing in. Zeb stepped forwards with his sword held in both hands, his right on the grip of the hilt, his left grasping the blade at the surface of the door, following the right side door and rotating himself, and the bolt, to follow the swing.

Jody looked down the corridor as Zeb extricated his sword from the bolt. "So, you'd never know this place had already been delved three times already today."

"And it'll be delved again once we're done with it," commented Zeb as he advanced down the corridor. Every twenty feet, on alternating sides, a flickering torch was placed in a sconce. He stepped carefully, not knowing if there was a pressure switch or trip wire along the corridor.

Jody was less careful, and passed Zeb in the corridor, twirling her axe in her fingers. When Zeb scowled at her as she passed she stopped, "What?"

"Hello? Dungeon? Could be traps," he sarcastically said.

"Zeb, this is an entrance and exit corridor. It's not going to be trapped, since it would be illogical to disable every trap along the way and able it once you were past it. Once we're at the temple proper, and going into a lower traffic area, then we'll have to worry about traps."

Zeb slackened from his cautious stance, leaning his still glowing sword on his right shoulder plate, "Did Mary tell you there wasn't any traps along here?"
Jody looked horrified, and took a defiant stance, "How dare you_ We talked general strategy. And anyway, Professor de Lana

told us all about the logic of places like this. It isn't just a bunch of disparate monsters, savages, and traps. Every delve has a reason for being, whether it's and old Imperial stockpile, to a pre-fall mine, to the ruins of a city. Sure, there's going to be structural traps, and occasionally there will be traps or monsters placed as defensive measures on rarely accessed passages, but never on a main entrance."

Zeb raised his left arm up in surrender, "Whoa, whoa. Sorry. I get enough lectures in class. I don't need another one from you."

Jody glared at Zeb, then turned to look down the corridor, "Come on, we're wasting time. And anyway, we've got a temple to rob."

Zeb smiled, lifted his sword from his shoulder, and followed her down the corridor, "That's the spirit."

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 4

2007-10-30T12:20:00.001-06:00

The broken asphalt of the bailey crunched beneath his feet as he walked away from the shade and into the light. He could hear the tink tink of the smiths along the west side of the keep, as well as the rumble of the mill to his left, in the middle of the bailey. He looked around to make sure no one was coming over to talk to him, then turned towards the gate, which was just west of the mill, and broke into a jog.

As he covered the hundred feet or so, he thought back to when he was beginning his job as quartermaster, back when the fort was still being established. It was a pre-war building, and he had been a fairly regular customer. In fact, he was here when the founders secured the fort the day of the invasion.

He stopped about halfway between the keep and the gate, and looked around. As he compared the landmarks he nodded and talked to himself, “Yeah, it was just about here. I was loading up my truck, probably with bottled water and dog food. And then they just rolled up like they owned the place.” He chuckled, “Well, in a way, they did.”

Robert hefted the twenty-four pack of bottle water from the flatbed into the bed of his truck, then pushed it forwards into the bed of the truck. He turned to pick up the twenty pound bag of dog food when he stopped.

Half bent over he looked over the back side of the flatbed and saw half a dozen vehicles drive into the parking lot one, right after, the other. He stood, pushing his hat up to wipe his forehead, using the action to get a better look at the trucks entering the lot.

The lead truck was a black, late model SUV with tinted windows and a whole slew of antennas along it’s roof and rear bumper. Behind it was a black passenger van, fifteen passengers at least, also with as many antennas as the SUV in front of it. The SUV turned and headed for the store entrance, stopping on the concrete in front of the main doors. The Van turned the opposite direction and parked parallel to the street in the second row of parking spaces.

Behind the van was a utility truck, but it wasn’t from any of the local utilities, as it was painted black like the others, and had it’s own complement of antennas. It followed the SUV up to the front entrance and parked just past it, next to the liquor store entrance.

Behind the cherry-picker truck was a pair of moving trucks, black with antennas. They both parked behind the van. The final truck to enter the parking lot was a semi pulling a flatbed loaded with construction vehicles. Robert identified a pair of Bobcat skid loaders, a backhoe, and an extendable fork lift.

Robert stood in awe as the semi pulled past the van and moving trucks, and consequently right past him and his little flatbed before pulling around and stopping between the other vehicles and the road.

“What the?” was all Robert could say before all the doors opened, and his world changed.

In less than five seconds twenty-seven men and women exited the half-dozen vehicles. They were all dressed alike, from their black combat boots, to their side arms, to the MP5s hung across their chests. They also wore black balaclavas with sunglasses and radio headsets.

The four occupants, three men and a woman, of the SUV and the mixed pair from the cherry picker began working at the entrance, setting up some sort of command point from the back of the SUV. From what Robert could tell from his angle, the back of the SUV was set up with at least a dozen flat-screen monitors.

A second group, consisting of the mixed pairs from the moving trucks and the semi as well as five from the van, began working to off-load the semi and the contents of both trucks. Robert would have paid more attention to them, if it wasn’t for the actions of the final group.

The actions of the final group were unified only in that the pairs were doing the same thing in different parts of the parking lot. Robert remarked to himself that the pairs, heck the whole lot of them, were surprisingly mixed given the obvious offensive nature of the whole operation. The ten that remained split into five groups and spread out from the van out among the sparse cars of the lot.

As Robert watched the pair coming towards him, he thought that it was rather odd how little cars were actually in the lot itself. He looked around and quickly counter less than two dozen, all of them with people by them. He then looked behind him, to the highway that the store was so conveniently placed near, and saw the on-ramps clogged full of cars. It seemed that the noise barrier was doing a spectacularly good job, as only as he paid attention did he notice the cacophony of honks and horns coming from the interstate.

“What the?” he said, repeating his earlier cryptic exclamation. He was about to make a wise-ass comment when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around and saw the pair that had been approaching him had finally made it while he was gawking at the traffic.

“Sir?” asked the one on the left. She was taller than Robert by about an inch, and had removed her sunglasses. Her partner beside her took a much more offensive posture, with his right hand resting on the grip of his MP5.

“What?” asked Robert, partly annoyed and partly bewildered.

“Sir,” said the one of the right. Unlike his partner, his was not in an inquisitive fashion.

“We’ll need you to come with us sir,” his partner added. She turned slightly and gestured to the store itself, he brilliant blue eyes looking to the entrance, and then back to Robert before he head could follow.

“What?” stammered Robert. He took a half-step back and nearly fell into the back of his pickup. “What are you doing here?”

“Sir, we’re here for your protection,” said the one on the right, his hand gripping the MP5 more intensely. “As my partner said, we need you to come with us. We have to get you inside.”

“Why?”

“Sir, there’s a situation. We’re here to help, but to help you, we need you to cooperate,” she said. Even though only her eyes were exposed, Robert got the impression that she was trying to be nice, but that he was trying her patience.

“Okay, just let me…” Robert began.

The man reached out and grabbed Robert’s arm, “No, we need you to move now. We have to secure the site, and we can’t do that until you’re inside.”

Robert tried to protest, tried to rip his arm out of the other man’s grip, but it was no use. So, he relented and began to walk towards the store entrance, the man letting him go as he cooperated.

“Thank you sir,” said his partner, the smile on her face evident in her tone.

“It’s Robert.”

“Well, thank you Robert. I’m Jessica.”

“And him?”

“I’m none of your concern, Bob,” he replied curtly.

“It’s Robert,” growled Robert, obviously used to, and annoyed, but people constantly trying to contract his name.

The man raised his eyebrows above the tops of his sunglasses and tilted his head, wordlessly telling Robert that he didn’t care. The trio quickly got to the entrance, along with a dozen other people and their herder. They milled around aimlessly at the entrance to the store before someone came out. It was the woman who got out of the SUV a few minutes before, though her balaclava was pulled down, allowing her short cropped raven hair to show. She was in her late thirties, the same age as Robert, and hand an air of authority about her.

“Welcome to your new home,” she said, a smile on her face and her arms open wide. “I know this is difficult to understand, but at least for the foreseeable future, you all are going to be staying here.”

The civilians began to murmur, but she stopped them with by clearing her throat. By now the herders had returned with the final store patrons who were in the lot, making for a total of two dozen civilians, ranging in age from twelve to fifty, with Robert’s thirty-eight on the high side of the median.

“You all were, are, very lucky to be here. An hour ago, the improbable, but not unforeseen, event of an invasion occurred. While you were here shopping the entire communications network of the world, from the internet, to the telephone, was shut down by an outside force. This, predictably, caused a great deal of panic. Luckily, the agency I work for had a plan for such an emergency, and within that hour we, my team and I, were sent here to secure this site. We will not run out of food, and in time, you all will be allowed to find and if you want, return with your families. But, as of right now, we need all of you to calmly come inside where it is safe and secure.”

“Who are you?” shouted one of the assembled civilians. Robert couldn’t see the man who asked the question, but the same question was on his mind as well.

“My name is Melissa, and I’m the administrator for this facility. In time, I hope that we can become friends, but for now, I need you to all go inside,” she replied,. She stepped to the side, and the civilians, all two dozen of them, slowly and calmly, entered the store. Robert was the last to go in, and stopped to look Melissa in the eye and ask her a question.

“Who are you, really?”

She looked him over, then smiled. Robert knew that smile, it screamed bureaucracy, “I’m the woman who just saved your life.”

Josefer Martin - Turning Point - Chapter 1

2007-10-29T10:32:00.000-06:00

The silence was such that you could, if you were so inclined, or powered, cut it with a knife. The video, which was still playing, had muted when I entered the room, so Mike and I were watching it in silence. A minute or so passed before he turned in his seat, his left arm resting on the top of the cushion.

“You gonna talk, or are we going to sit here all day?”

I mouthed a few words, but nothing came out.

“Yeah, I know. It was a glamour. Zelda popped it off before you and Jess ‘ported in. Allowed me to sneak in here with another glamour, since they were looking for what Zel and I looked like at graduation.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, then spoke up, “Mike, why?”

“Why? You have to ask why? I told you. It’s about proving that I’m better than you. But that’s only half of it,” he looked down and pulled my father’s goggles from inside his jacket, which was not the same flame-motif he wore before, instead it was just a well tailored black sport coat. He whirled them around on his right index finger by the strap, “The real reason? I want you and Jess to work with Zel and I. We make a good team, the four of us. A Gadgeteer Intuit, Pyro Hyper-Genius, Package Deal Psychic Teleporter, and a Mage Manifestor. We could be unstoppable, we will be unstoppable.” He gestured to me, then himself, and then to the screen, which showed his younger self looking first to Jess and then to Zelda on our last mission together last year.

“You know I’m never going to turn. My dad’s a Supe, my mom’s an ADA, Jess’s dad’s an EMT and her mom’s a Supe with dad. It’s the family business.”

“But what business is being a Supe?” he asked, tossing the goggles onto my lap. “The pay is horrible, the government puts loads of restrictions on you, plus you might get called up to serve in Iraq or Afghanistan. Plus, there’s no guarantee that once you and Jess finish college that you’ll stay together, even if you two get married.”

“Married?” I stammered. I hadn’t ever thought that far ahead, thinking more of MIT or CalTech than where Jess and I were going in our relationship.

“Yeah, married. It’s eventually going to happen. You may be an Intuit, but I’m the Genius, I know you better than you know yourself.”

He gestured to the goggles, “It’s a gift. If you ever change your mind, Zel and I’ll be there. But talk to Jess. This is not just your future, but her’s as well.”

I picked up the goggles, but as soon as I did, my limbs went stiff and I couldn’t move.

Mike chuckled, “What, you think I’d let you have it without a price?”

Another chuckle manifested from the shadows at the front of the debriefing room theatre. As she stepped into the light of the projector, I saw that it was Zelda, wearing a stylish yet ordinary black mini-dress, “Toodles Joe. We’ll see you again.”

They both disappeared, and about fifteen seconds later, I was able to move, and the sound returned as well, allowing me to hear the pleading announcement for me to report for a meeting.

As a stood and stuffed the goggles into my backpack only one word came to my lips, “Shit.”

Alternating Stories

2007-10-28T16:42:00.000-06:00

Okay, I'm going to try to alternate my stories (Delving, Costco, and Josefer now that I've re-read year old material and got caught up with my old characters) for a while, just to get into the habit of writing and posting, but also so that I can get some of the ideas out of my head.

Also, I've finally put some of my behind the scenes development of my stories (at least Delving) onto the Net. It's just for me right now, but eventually I'll release the info to the net at large (not that anyone actually reads my stories anyway).

I might not get my stories up as quickly and as regularly as I hope, but I'll at least try. November is NaNoWriMo (national novel writing month). I'll be using that as an excuse to write, though this shit will probably never make it into print (unless I someday do a Lulu compilation.

Delving 101 - Chapter 4

2007-10-28T16:39:00.000-06:00

Mary, leaving her comment to Rob hanging in the air, slipped into the girl’s locker room. Once she was far enough from the entrance, and was sure that Rob was mouthing off to Zeb in the boy’s locker room next door, she began to talk to herself. “Okay, it’s not that bad. There’s still a away to recover.”

“Mary, you talking to me?” asked a voice hidden by a wall of lockers.

“No Jody, just myself,” replied Mary, as she flung herself around the corner of the locker wall. Like Zeb in the men’s locker room, Jody was sitting in the final row of the locker room. Mary caught herself before she fell, and then strode over to plop herself down next to Mary on the bench.

“So, Rob did the switch thing with the Scroll?” asked Jody as she bent over to tie the straps on her boots. They were flats, but the supple black leather extended all the way up her calf to her knee. Above that, the tight links of chain mail encased her legs until it hid under Jody’s mini-skirt.

“Yeah,” admitted Mary as she picked up Jody’s other boot, which limply sat between her own. Hers were un-dyed leather, and only came to mid-calf, allowing the this fabric of her khakis to flow up her calves, bunch loosely around her knee, and then become ever tighter as it come to her waist. She set the boot on Jody’s mailed thigh, eliciting a light tink.

“Thanks,” said Jody as she grabbed the boot and set it down next to her left foot, to which is belonged. As she tucked a stray strand of her raven hair behind her lightly pointed ear, she leaned back, resting on her right hand extended behind her. “So, what’re we going to do?”

“I’m thinking the only thing we can do,” replied Mary, swinging her pack around her right side, so as to not hit Jody, and then leaning over to look inside.

“What?” asked Jody, as she watched Mary dig in her magical pack just like her partner Rob was doing just a few meters away. Like Rob she pulled out an exact duplicate to the Scroll of Fire Rob had handed to the Professor minutes before.

“Counter-cheat,” stated Mary as she set the Scroll on the bench between them. She reached into the left hip pocket of her khakis, pulling out a tarnished pocket-watch. She popped it open and examined the time. “Okay, we’ve got fifteen minutes until you and Zeb are up.”

Jody carefully picked up the scroll, “So, are you sure you got the right one?”

Mary smiled, held out her left hand in front of her, “Definitely.” Before she finished the fourth syllable, Jody’s chain mail top, which had been sitting in a pile on the floor next to her, was now hanging limply in her out-stretched hand.

“Ah,” said Jody as she set the Scroll back down beside her. “So, now that you’re holding my top, you want to help me put it on? You know how hard the back straps are.”

“Actually,” said Mary as she stood and turned on her left heel, causing the mail the sway back and forth. “I don’t.”

Jody grimaced as she stood, her left foot still next to her left boot, causing her to drop slightly to her left as her weight shifted from her booted right to her stocking left. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I swear, you wizards. It’s bad enough you’ve always got you heads stuck in those books of yours, but do you have to rub the fact that you don’t have to wear armor in the faces of us lowly clerics?”

Mary chuckled as she leaned back against the lockers, “At least you don’t have to rigorously study each and every spell before you can even figure out how to cast it. It’s just a simple hour of prayer every morning, and bam, time to select from the library.”

Jody joined Mary’s chuckle as she returned to the bench and bent back over to put on her boot. “Well, at least you’re smart enough to ace all the other tests. I had to use a comp languages just to understand my algebra.”

“Jody,” chided Mary, a more serious tone in her voice. “You know you’re not supposed to use divine intervention for our classes. That’s cheating. Plus, you know you can always come to me if you have questions about the homework.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, it’s just… Zeb’s always wanting my help in thaumaturgy, the stupid git, and then he’s off sparring with Rob until curfew instead of staying for my tutoring. It’s bad enough he expects me to put out.”

Mary nearly dropped the chain mail, “Wait, Zeb wants you to put out? So does Rob. He’s always insisting that Zeb’s getting some from you, and that if we’re going to ever be a cohesive party after we graduate he’s going to have to trust me. Like sex has anything to do with trust?”

Jody, now about halfway up her calve with her lacing looked up at Mary, “Zeb’s the same way.” She shook her head, “Boys.”

Okay… wordcounts

2007-10-27T21:10:00.000-06:00

Well, I now have three chapters of "flash" fiction, up, and if there's anything I've learned it's the following…

1 - Writing to a budget is hard.
2 - 365 is a very small budget.
3 - Limiting myself to a small budget is hurting, not helping, my writing.

So, I'v decided to continue the Fort Costco and Delving 101 storylines, but in whatever length each installment wants to be.

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 3

2007-10-27T21:09:00.000-06:00

Robert grabbed his hat, a wide brimmed suede heat with a tall indented crown, which he had always called his ‘outback’ hat. He set it on his head, and strode towards the door. The door, which was once an automatic sliding glass door, was now a heavily reinforced sliding wood door. He gripped the handle, which was on the left side of the door, with his right hand, and pulled it open.

The bright daylight streamed into the much darker storeroom, and Robert shielded his eyes momentarily with his left hand as they acclimated. He stepped over the threshold and looked around. The area outside the storeroom had once been a portico protecting the entrance from the weather, now it served at the guard for both the storeroom and the main keep, low brick wall funneling people through the checkpoint, and protecting the keep from those who would attack it from within.

Robert nodded to one of the guards as he reached around with his left arm behind his back to close the door he came through. The guard, Selma, nodded to him. She had one of the requisitioned M16s resting on a slight across her chest as she guarded the keep’s portico.

“Hey Bob!” she shouted in greeting.

Robert cringed slightly. He hated being called Bob. He felt that his position warranted more respect than that, not to mention the large gold star sewn upon the chest of his shirt.

“Hey Selma,” he replied with a smile, not letting his aggravation show. “How’s it going today?”

“Well,” she replied, nodding. “Very well.” She nodded at Robert, “So, what with the rifle boss?”

Robert smiled, finally getting the respect he thought, knew, he deserved. “Oh, just searching for something. Might have to leave the Fort, so I thought I’d be prepared.”

Selma raised her eyebrows, “Ah, well, I’ll make sure to tell anyone you’re out if they stop by.”

Robert nodded to her as he began to turn away, “You do that Selma, you do that.” As he stepped out from under the portico his eyes finally adapted to the light, and he looked out upon the bailey. “Twelve years,” he said to himself. “Twelve.”

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 2

2007-10-26T20:23:00.000-06:00

Robert paged through the forms, removing all the requisitions, whether open or closed, for M16A2 rifles. There were eighteen from the last year, as far back as he kept records before having to recycle the parchment forms.

He took the eighteen sheets of parchment, and sorted them as he walked around the desk and towards the weapon's locker. By the time he arrived he had sorted the eighteen forms into open and closed requisitions, nine of the former, and nine of the latter. He unlocked the locker and stepped pass the crates of ammunition to the weapon's racks.

His eyes swept past the pistols and crossbows and settled on the rifle racks. They were wooden, like everything in the warehouse, and contained a variety of weapons. He kneeled down, so as to not look at the hunting rifles, and focused on the twenty slots he had cut over a decade ago for the M16A2 rifles. There were ten rifles there, which meant he hadn't miscounted earlier.

He looked through the open requisitions and matched the serial numbers to the matching empty slots, then matched the closed requisitions and matched the serial numbers to the matching rifles. There was one rifle remaining, when there should have been two. He checked the serial number of the missing rifle and noted it on his worksheet.

"Okay, so, someone took a rifle without requisitioning it," he said to himself as he removed the tenth rifle, the one that hadn't been requisitioned during the previous year. He then slung it over his shoulder and picked up the forms as he stood up.

He turned and grabbed a magazine of rounds before locking the weapon's locker behind him.

He stopped, shook his head, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and strode over to his desk. He opened the drawer, and removed one of the yellowed, yet still usable, requisition forms. He took out a pen, something that the council hadn’t begun to ration, yet, and quickly wrote up his recent transaction.

“Purpose?” he asked himself as he got to the final line of the form. He smirked to himself and began to write, “Reacquisition of lost supplies.”

Writing

2007-10-26T19:42:00.000-06:00

You know what, I love writing. I love crafting words into evocative phrases, descriptions that evoke an image of exactly what I want the reader to imagine.

For instance, I just wrote this tonight:

She then turned and began to pace, wringing her hands. As she paced, she made barely a sound, each step on the ball of her foot, her hell barely hitting the deck except when she used it as the fulcrum of her turn.

And that's not it. In the same RPOL post, I also wrote this:

Melissa cocked her head to the side, her face scrunched up in thought, her eyes looking up into her eyebrows, and her teeth lightly biting the inside of her left cheek.

I don't know if the images I want to convey actually come across, but I try.

He sat upright in his chair, legs slightly crossed, his left root resting atop his right. His knees were far apart, farther apart even than the considerable width of his rotund stomach. His arms rested atop that stomach, reaching out and forwards, the edge of his laptop biting into his wrists. His fingers hovered above the keys, left thumb above the trackpad, right thumb above the space bar, his right ring finger occasionally reaching up and to the right for the delete key, the pinky curled up and out of the way. His face was slack, expressionless, his eyes focused on the screen before him, eyes scanning the screen as he typed, flitting from the keys to the blinking cursor and back. He wrinkles the left side of his mouth, thinking, but saying nothing. He composes the words in his mind as he writes them, going back and forth on the phrasing, deleting and rethinking the words as his fingers delete and retype the same.

Fan Fiction

2007-10-17T06:41:00.000-06:00

Well, I used to have three chapter of a short fan fiction for a story I like on this blog, but the author asked me to not make it fan fiction, and to remove any links from those posts to her site.

I respect that, and since I hadn't used any IP of hers, I just removed the boilerplate and left them up.

So, I was going to post a new chapter in it, but I've got to come up with some new backstory.

But hey, it got me to post, so it can't be all that bad. Right?

A Little Less Education… Please!

2007-10-11T14:04:00.000-06:00

On campus there's an Einstein Bagels, and behind it is an open outdoor seating/dinning area. I've had lunch there twice, once this week (today), and once last week (thursday as well). Both times I've been there I've tried to socialize with others, and both times I've succeeded.

Also, both times I've talked with Education students (future teachers). Yeah, I know, it's right next to West Classroom, home of the School of Profession Studies (where they teach teaching), so it makes sense for future teachers to eat there. But, it's also the only place to eat on campus outside the Tivoli, which means it should be fairly popular a place to eat.

Instead it's just an extension of the West Classroom student lounges.

So, I'm asking, anyone in particular, for that patio to have, at least next time I'm there, a little less Education (students).

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 1

2007-10-11T14:02:00.000-06:00

Robert checked his inventory worksheet against the hard copy inventory book. For the last year he had painstakingly kept the inventory book accurate with his weekly inventories, comparing counts plus requisitions versus the inventory book, and then updating the record.

For most things, including food, the records weren't very accurate when compared week to week. People weren't as exacting as he was, and the council didn't care if the warehouse was short a half cup of lentils.

For others, like the firearms he was currently comparing, the records were accurate to a single round, a single magazine, a single replacement part. The council insisted on it, and it was the tracking of the weapon and armor supplies that his position had initially been created to do. Eventually, as there were more and more mundane items to keep track of, the duty of keeping inventory was added, until Robert was in charge of keeping track of every single consumable and tool that the council had to track.

It was also his last day on the job. Starting next week Jane, who was twenty years his junior, was to take over. He had done the job since it was created by the council twelve years before, and since he had reached fifty years in age, it was time for him to join the council itself, rather than just working for them.

He then looked to the next item in the record book. "Rifle, M16A2," he said aloud to himself. He then looked across the page to last week's entry, "Eleven." He then frowned, and looked at his worksheet.

"Ten?"

That didn't make sense.

"Okay Rob, breathe. It's probably just a miscount. Or you forgot to count a requisition form."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then side-stepped to the left to look at a neat stack of requisition forms.

He picked up the top form, it was for ten 5.56 mm rounds, a normal requisition. He then looked up at the date, and frowned again. "That's over a week ago. Maybe they're out of order?"

He quickly paged through the forms. They weren't out of order.

"Okay, time to double-check with a mark one eyeball.”

Stupid Fucking Gleemax!

2007-10-11T09:17:00.000-06:00

okay, right now, I hate WotC. They did this whole deal with Gleemax, promoting it and whatnot, and now that they've opened the alpha, they've turned off the migration until Friday. That's two full days of noone being able to post on the forums, and two full days of me getting annoyed at not being able to socialize with my peers.

Of course, I'm not sure what else I'll use Gleemax for other than the forums, as of my two blogs, I only barely use this one (having completely and utterly abandoned LiveJournal) as it is.

So, I guess I'll just have to read other stuff. Good thing I've got the Amber Spyglass with me!

Delving 101 - Chapter 3

2007-10-10T12:30:00.000-06:00

Mary split off from Rob about ten feet down the hall, when they had to go into their respective locker rooms. “Rob, you cut it a little close in there, you know that, right?”

Rob stopped, leaning against the frame of the locker room door. He bit his bottom lip, then sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted, “it was close. I wasn’t expecting them to follow as quick, and the corridor was a bit rougher than I would have liked. I couldn’t go as fast as I’d practiced on the track, but it’s alright. We made it, and in good time.”

Mary shook her head, then headed into the locker room, shouting to Rob over her shoulder as the door closed behind her, “Yes, but you almost didn’t. Think about it.”

Rob shouldered the door open and slipped inside, letting out a heavy sigh as soon as the door had closed. He walked slowly amongst the lockers, ending finally at the end, his mood suddenly lightening as he caught sight of someone.

“Hey Rob,” said Zeb, as he tightened the strap on his breastplate. It was just leather, like Rob’s, and like every other skirmisher in the class. It was black leather, and it’s studs were carefully painted a matte black to keep the glint off. “So, how’d you do?”

Rob sloughed off his pack and dropped down onto the bench, then drug it around in front of him. “I got it,” he said as he undid the buckles.

“It?” asked Zeb inquisitively.

“Yeah,” some Rob, as he flipped open the main pouch and reached inside. His arm went down deep as he leaned forward, deeper even then the bag appeared to hold. He then leaned back, pulling his arm, and what he had grabbed out of the bag.

“Wait? Didn’t Professor Torbin request you give that back?” asked Zeb as he looked upon the scroll case. It looked exactly like the scroll case Rob had given the Professor not five minute before.

“I gave him a fake. The farthest it gets from the original the heavier it gets. That’ll slow down the rest of the teams, allowing you and Jody to practically waltz through.”

Zeb chuckled.

Death by Awesome

2007-10-10T10:51:00.000-06:00

Okay, I just found out that Scott Sigler (yes, of Earthcore, Ancestor, Infected, The Rookie, and more) is collecting information for people who want to show up as dead bodies in his new podcast novel Nocturnal.

I, as a loyal junkie, had to throw my hat in the ring. I may not have enjoyed The Rookie (too much sports, not enough sci-fi) that much, but all his other work is top notch.

Comfort Zones

2007-10-10T08:47:00.000-06:00

I'm a student at Metro, and, unlike when I was a student at CSU or Red Rocks, I'm branching out of my comfort zone. I've explored the library (though I still haven't found anything I need to actually check out, so I'm still not sure how that whole process works at Metro, or at CSU or Red Rocks for that matter), and I've explored the campus (the 9th street historical walk thingie is really cool, and I might just lay out on the grass one of these days), and left the areas of expertise (I've visited the student lounges on the West Classroom, the Art building, as well as the Science building).

I've talked with people I didn't know and probably will never meet again at lunch at Einstein's (how cool that there's a bagel place in the middle of campus?). I've participated in the massive religious discussions (playing my normal role as devil's advocate). I've listened to the bands outside the Tivoli, and I've even talked with my fellow students (and my professors) outside of class.

But, I'm still in my comfort zone, even if it's edges are a little thinner, and the peripheral of the zone is larger. I'm still in college, still in school, the one place in life that I've felt truly comfortable in. I think that's one of the many reasons I want to be a teacher. I'm not going to have to leave my comfort zone even when I leave college. I'll still be within the loving arms of academia, safe from the wilds of the corporate world.

When I think about it like that, I get a little bit afraid. Because, like most people, I'm afraid of change, and leaving my comfort zone, that's a lot of change.

Josefer Martin - Monologging for Dummies

2007-10-09T23:29:00.000-06:00

I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. There was just no way on God's green Earth that what I was seeing in front of me was true. Mike. After all this time. Sure, in hindsight, it really wasn't that long, since I was still in high school, but still, I couldn't believe it at the time. I can hardly believe it, even now. But, I'm digressing.

"It's been a while," I said, taking a cautious step into the room.

"Yes," he said. He looked older than I remembered, more mature. You know how it is. While you see someone every day, or at least, almost every day, it's difficult to spot the differences from day to day, even if it's a new haircut, or new wardrobe. It's the way the human mind works. I still saw myself as a young kid, and as a preteen, and as a freshman. I saw an unbroken chain of, for lack of a better word, me.

It was the same for Jessica. I'd seen here every day since we met, and so, while in retrospect I can see that she's changed, from day to day, I can't. I know she's taller, more athletic, not to mention shapelier, but she's still the same girl I met way back when.

So, even though it hadn't been that long, i was still surprised to see him there, in the flesh so to speak.

"You've changed," was all I could force myself to say.

"A bit," he quipped. "But, please, have a seat, we have a lot to talk about."

I stepped forward again, now two steps into the room. Now a third, and a forth. I slipped into the back row of the small theatre, Matt and the tour having continued down the hall without me. For the moment I was alone, with him.

A little bit of reorganization

2007-10-09T22:42:00.000-06:00

Well, I thought I'd stop in, mainly because I had some new stories to get out of my head, and I thought, "Well, where I can get them out of my head? I know, I'll post them on my derelict blog!"

So, I posted two new flash fiction pieces. Yes, I'm calling them flash fiction, it's what you can short fiction generally under 1000 words. I think I may have to re-label some of my older work, since I'm not sure if it's flash or just short, but at least I'm using Blogger's label system (works much better than my little bracket tags ever did).

So, my first two pieces of new fiction is actually fan fiction, based on one of my favorite stories right now, Tales of MU. It's a fun little AU fantasy story with lots of D&D and webcomic in jokes. My little fan fiction deals with a pair (or possibly two pairs, not sure) of Delving and Discovery majors at Majesterius University. This is, of course, their Delving 101 course, though one of the characters is showing off a bit, and I think the other's not exactly sure of herself.

I like the two of them, mainly because it allows me to describe some cool scenes with some story hanging on them, and well as some story with some cool scenes hanging on them

I'm not sure if I'll write any more, but hey, at least it's out there.

--
Signing off…

Delving 101 - Chapter 2

2007-10-09T22:19:00.000-06:00

clap, clap, clap

"Good job, Rob, Mary,” said the professor from deep in the suddenly not dark room. “Rob, the acrobatics back there, quite entertaining. And Mary, I noticed that you had your wand ready, just in case, good preparation."

"Thank you," he said, catching his breath. Rob pushed a lock of his raven hair from in front of his eyes, and strode towards the desk, shading his eyes with his left hand, the one with the scroll case.

The room was white. White floor, white walls, white ceiling, even a white desk. The only specks of color being the backside of the pair of door Mary and Rob had just came through, Mary and Rob themselves, and the short, wide, beaded man behind the desk.

Mary stepped after Rob, and put her wand back into it's holster at her hip. Unlike Rob, she didn't wear any armor, instead she wore simple khaki cargo pants, a khaki blouse, and a well worn pack, typical attire for a delving wizard. "So, how did we do?"

"Not now," said the professor, stepping from behind the desk. His attire was much like Mary's, though noticeably well worn, and missing the pack. "So, the scroll?" he asked, reaching out with a calloused hand.

Rob sheathed his sword, then placed the scroll case in the shorter man's palm. "As requested, one Scroll of Fire."

Mary pouted, but the professor interrupted before she could complain, "Look, you two were the second team through the gauntlet. There are three more teams left to go." He went over to the door, opened it and tossed the scroll case inside. "You'll get your grade, and a debrief of your performance, at the end of the class. For now, relax, and hit the showers."

The professor walked back behind the desk, and then gestured to his left. Mary and Rob both sighed, and exited the white room from the now open door, the door that wasn't there before.

“Come on,” said Rob, “if we hurry up we can catch Zeb and Jody’s run.”

Mary sighed, shook her head, and followed Rob out of the white room, and into the hall.

Delving 101 - Chapter 1

2007-10-09T22:13:00.000-06:00

"Come on Rob! Run!"

He pumped his legs as fast as he could, flying over the roughly hewn floor of the corridor. His boots thumped hard, causing his scabbard to rattle, and his pack to jingle. He huffed as he closed the distance, the scroll case held in a death grip on his left hand, his sword in an equally white-knuckle grip with his right.

"Rob! Watch out!"

With that, Rob caught sight of the first of the arrows skittering of the right wall of the corridor, which was suddenly much narrower than he would have liked. He changed his gait, sending his right leg forward, locked tight, with his foot pointed forwards. As he did so, he let his left leg collapse under him, pointing that foot backwards, allowing his to slide onto the ground.

The metal studs on his left greave scrapped against the floor, while the carabineers, pitons, and buckles of his pack jangled. He leaned far back. His hat, if he hadn't lost it already, would have sailed off his head as it nearly hit, instead he watched as nearly two dozen arrows flew over him, into the space he formerly occupied.

"Rob!" Mary shouted, taking cover behind the heavy wooden door not twenty feet away.

He performed another acrobatic maneuver, using the last bit of his momentum to get him standing again. He lifted his right leg slightly, bent it, and slammed it into the floor, the deep treads of his boot catching tight against the floor. Simultaneously, he kicked up with his left leg and leaned forwards. He quickly brought his left leg forwards to catch his fall, and then, within two strides, was back at his full run, now just feet from the door.

He leaned left, so that he could slide past her through the open door, leading with the scroll case. She reached over and behind him as he passed, grabbed the door, then slammed it shut behind him, plunging them from the dim torch light of the corridor into sudden darkness.

RHoD Journal #2 [IC]

2007-06-23T22:21:00.000-06:00

Campaign Journal
Vermillion "Red" Demond

Day 1 (continued)

Well, today was not quite as climatic as I had feared after our first battle, earlier today. After trying up the hobbos, and getting the prisoners conscious, we marched towards Drellin's Ferry. Along the way we, and by we I mean everyone by myself, interrogated the hobbo cleric, who followed of all gods, Tiamat. We got some useful, and some not so useful, information. Mainly we learned that he's just a cog in the gears of the large army of hobbos, led by a powerful, according to the cleric, sorcerer who united all the warring tribes under his banner.

This sorcerer, the Wyrmlord Koff (well, I never asked how to spell it), is held up in Vrath Keep, our original mission goal. He also revealed that Koff's second in command is a minotaur, and that the two aren't as friendly as you'd think.

We took the hobbos to the town, which apparently is a ferry because the original bridge was destroyed during the giant wars long ago. The locals weren't happy we took the hobbos prisoner, but wouldn't actually go out and tell us to kill any further hobbos we were likely to come across. While Burris, Boomer, and I watched the hobbos, Zerth, Roland, and Jez talked to the mayor, and the captain of the guard, whom Burris was sent to talk to by a man in Greyhawk. They got a small mission to help defend the town, though even with twelve hundred citizens is going to be rather hard to defend, since they don't even have a walled town center.

After talking with the mayor and the captain of the guard, and getting the hobbos into some simple stockades, we sold what gear we could, getting about seven thousand gold from the town, got what supplies we could, staked out the local magical provisioners, and set out to get a good night's sleep. At least, most of us, Burris will probably be up late with the Dwarven barmaid. (Burris was a victim of a reincarnation much like myself, his previous form was a male dwarf, while now he's a male human, a step up if you ask me).

RHoD Journal #1 [IC]

2007-06-10T21:22:00.000-06:00

Campaign Journal
Vermillion "Red" Demond

Day 1

Okay, so it's not actually Day 1, since we started yesterday, but it was just shopping in Greyhawk and the hook.

Ah, the hook. Well, it's all Jezabel's fault really. She got us together for this. Some guy, forgot his name, and it really doesn't matter, hired her, well us, to get a bunch of treasure from an abandoned keep. This place was supposed to be abandoned years ago after the kingdom, Rhest, was overcome by Forest Giants. Forest Giants, some of the nicest giants I've ever heard of, so I take the rest of his story with a grain of salt. But, he paid enough to get us teleported down to Sterich, so I'll give the weasel that much.

Of course, the teleport trip itself was quite interesting. The plan, which we formulated yesterday, was for the druids to load up with all our gear, wild shape, and then get into a pair of haversacks, hold their breath, and teleport away. The second wave had me getting into a haversack myself.

There's nothing quite like being nowhere. It's a bit cold, but not, wide open, yet enveloping. Very odd.

Once we were in Sterich, this morning, we got re-packed, and then got on our way, heading to the keep, yet knowing that things would probably be a bit more deep than that.

Which it did.

The ambush was in a very smart position, the road gullied through the forest, and the hobgoblins got us from cover in the forest. The battle, which lasted a good two to three minutes, involved the six of us and fifteen hobgoblins with three, one summoned, hell hounds. Most of the damage was dealt, at least on our side of the battle, to the animals, though Jez and Roland took their share, as did I.

We've stripped the ho-gos for their gear, looted the bodies, and taken prisoners, and now we're on our way, though I'm not sure if we'll ever get to loot the keep, since the ho-gos seem to be a bit thicker than just the fifteen.

Well, we're off down the road, here's hoping it's going to be easy.

But I'm not holding my breath (at least, no unless I need to hide in the haversack).

The Last Mimzy

2007-02-01T11:19:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah, I know, it's been about, oh, forever since I last posted, but I haven't had the need.

Well, now I feel like I need to.

I stumbled up this movie trailer over at apple, and find it quite interesting. Apparently it's a movie based on a story, based on the Jabberwocky. Very cool. Apparently these two children were sent learning toys from the future that allow them to think and learn a bit outside the box we call reality, allowing them to do things like TK/PK, as well as controlling spiders with sound, all very interesting stuff.

Also, the website is very cool.

Fence-post

2006-08-21T22:28:00.000-06:00

I'm a fence-post right now, as in "Between you, me, and the fence-post". Yeah, but, I'm really excited about the possibilities. I can't go into what exactly it is, but it's going to be fun, and it's going to be very, very, interesting. Enlightening. Invigorating. Exasperating. And tons of other adjectives.

But, until I can say anything about it. I'm still a fence-post.

*sigh*

Future Imperfect - Prologue 3

2006-07-23T22:55:00.000-06:00

Day of Mourning - Olarune 20, 998 YK - Mid-morning in Flamekeep

"We gather here this morning to remember those lives that were lost four years ago," preached the priest from atop his makeshift pulpit. There weren't many people gathering around him, but it was his duty to speak. "Four years have gone by since Cyre was claimed by the Mists, and we still do not know why. But we do what we can, pray to the Flame that the souls of the departed find refuge and comfort."

The priest paused to take a breath, and heard a dull roar coming from the Cathedral. He turned, and saw a mass of people running down the steep roads that lead to the highest ground in the city. He could not tell what they were running from, but they were panicked.

"Brothers and Sisters. Do not fear, for the Flame protects us here in the city. What harm can come to us here?" he shouted to the first of the evacuating mob. They didn't slow down at all.

The priest stepped down and was quickly swept up in the flow, his body buffeted by the current of bodies. He finally relaxed and moved with the flow, allowing himself to become a part of the rushing mob.

The priest and the mob continued down the streets of Flamekeep, until they reached the edge of the water, and stopped. Some, brave or foolish, began to wade into the water.

"What happened?" asked the priest to one of the panicked members of the milling mob.

"The Flame, the Flame, the Flame," was all that he got in response, as well as an arm pointed at the Cathedral.

The priest looked, and even from the edge of the water, he could see the smoke rising from the Cathedral. It was not much, at least now, but as he watched, it increased, and grew darker. Within a minute the smoke flowed from all the windows and doors of the Cathedral, filling the sky with it's billowing darkness.

"Flame protect us," the priest said to himself.

He could not make the motions of blessing himself before he died.

Two miles away a caravan rider stopped when the bright flash erupted from the direction of Flamekeep. He stopped his wagon and stepped to the ground. As he began to walk past the horses, he fell to the ground, a massive shockwave causing him to fall.

An hour later the teamster crested the final ridge before Flameseep and stopped. Before him he saw only devastation. He fell to the ground, head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably. A minute later he stopped sobbing and stared up into the sky, raising his hands in protest, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Why!?"

Future Imperfect - Prologue 2

2006-07-23T16:08:00.000-06:00

Day of Mourning - Olarune 20, 1048 YK - Evening over Flamekeep

The Golden Dragon slowed and began to fly in a wide circle. Fifty years previous, it would have been circling far above the busy bay around Flamekeep, just one of many ships, both in the air and on the water. It also would be among the rubble it was now circling.

Her captain stood at her bow, hands clasped behind his back. He we looking out at the hills to the west, and as the Golden Dragon circled, his gaze fell upon Scion's Sound, the bustling Throneport in the distance, then once more upon the hills. He gaze never ventured down, to look at the ruins of what was once the greatest capital in the Five Nations.

"Captain," said a tall female shifter, breaking his reverent silence.

"Yes Ms. Fraser?" he asked, a slight tone of annoyance in his question.

"Captain, you asked me to tell you when one of the other ships had arrived," she explained.

"Ah," he replied, then time with interest.

"Yes, the Ash Valley and the Angorn's Fancy have both arrived and have fallen in behind us," she informed him. "April says that the Argentvorax might be late, both otherwise the sending stone has been silent."

"Good, I guess it's time to inform our passengers that they can come out on deck. with both the Valley and the Fancy here, the Riedrans or the Karrnathi shouldn't interrupt us before the ceremony," he said, then sighed and walked aft, towards the bridge. "Dismissed Ms. Fraser."

She nodded, gave a quick salute, then turned on the ball of her foot and jogged off towards the stairs down into the ship.

Future Imperfect - Prologue 1

2006-07-15T09:59:00.000-06:00

Day of Mourning - Olarune 20, 1048 YK - Early Morning over the King's Forest.

The rain was getting worse, already her visibility was barely a hundred feet off the bow. She looked out the glass of the small pilot house, watching as one of her crew, a warforged, came up to the door on the side.

She sighed, and stood up, hoping that the construct had good news, but doubting it in the weather.

It opened the door, quickly stepped inside, and closed it.

"Thirty-Six," she said, looking at the wet 'forged. She then commanded, "Report!"

It bowed it's head, the grey metal of it's armor plating dimly reflecting the small lamp mounted on the back wall of the pilot house, "This one regrets to inform you that the ship has disappeared."

She had expected this, especially in this weather, "Regrettable, but we should still be able to track it's rings, in fact, that's what you were supposed to be doing. So," she paused to adjust her uniform, "tell my how it disappeared."

If the warforged could be nervous, it probably would have been, "One second, the rings were there, just as before. Next second, rings were gone, no where in sight."

She sighed, "Dismissed." She then stared out the glass as the warforged opened the door into the rain, then closed it. She could see it make it's way across the small deck and the secure itself to the bow viewing station.

"Darlona," she said to herself, "what have you gotten yourself into?" She looked around at the small pilot house, barely five feet on a side, it's front dominated by glass windows, and it's back wall by various maps of the area. She sat back down in front of the wheel, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Back to base then," she said, turning the ship in a while arc, "Maybe I won't get demoted for losing the ship. It is quite stormy." She laughed to herself, looked down at the compass, and began the long journey back to base.

Half a mile away, though only a hundred feet or so above the ground, cruised an old and battered luxury airship.

"Captain," shouted a sailor as she let herself into the bridge, "The Kharvin is turning around. It worked."

"Good," said the captain, "we might get to Flamekeep after all." He slid his hand through he short, greying hair. His ship was old, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve. As long as he didn't crash her into anything in the rain.

"Mr. Rancid," said the captain, looking over to the mithral plated warforged that piloted his ship, "take us to two thousand feet, and set a course for Flamekeep."

"Sir," it barked, and obediently began the effort of willing the elementals to go higher.

"Oh, and Mr. Rancid," said the Captain as he headed for the door at the front of the bridge, "do try and be graceful. We have an image to uphold. The Golden Dragon has been flying these skies for over fifty years. I intend for her to keep flying for fifty more."

"Aye Captain," replied the warforged as the Capain left the bridge for a walk in the rain.

Josefer Martin - Growing up Super - Chapter 4

2006-07-01T19:00:00.000-06:00

I shook the old memories from my mind. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. That would come at the debriefing. It was about thirty seconds before the end of class, and I had just enough time to stash my books, notebook opened to a blank page, and textbook worn almost to the point of falling apart, into my backpack.

Since I was at the back of the class, I was the last in line to leave the classroom, though I had much more left in my day then the rest of my classmates. Even though the live feed was cut off when we entered the vault, there was still the recording from Jessica's glasses to dissect during the debrief.

I was almost out the door when I turned and noticed Ms. Delarosa crouched over her keyboard, staring at the screen. "Ms. D, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," she said, obviously distracted.

I walked a step closer to her, "Ms. D, you alright?"

She shook her head, "Yeah. Just trying to grok the algorithm you discussed in class."

I smiled, and strolled over to her desk, "I just made it up. I doubt it'll even work. That whole thing, from the 3D model to the basic program was just some smoke and mirrors. I made it up on the spot, whole-cloth, BS from start to finish."

"But," she began, a strained look in her eyes, "it wasn't BS. It worked, at least, the two-dimensional treesort did."

"Really?" I asked, pulling a chair from around her desk.

"Really," she said. She then smiled and pointed to a chunk of code on her screen, "See this. I had to finagle it a bit, but I got it to work."

I plopped myself down in the chair, forgetting even the backpack on my back, and began to look over the code. She had taken a basic idea that had come out of nowhere and built it into a coherent program. Sure it didn't do much, but that's because it was just a test.

I pointed to a line of code, and she described what it did. We began to work with the code, solidifying it as it was, then bringing it further, and further, until, just on the cusp of creating an n-dimensional treesort, we were rudely interrupted.

"Josefer Martin to the office, please," the intercom buzzed. I could hear it from the hall as well, which meant that instead of the usual room-only call I had come to expect since my Freshman year, they had gone with a broadcast throughout the school.

"Sorry," I hastily apologized, jumping out of the chair towards the door, "maybe we can finish it tomorrow?"

"Yeah" she said despondently as I ran down the hall towards the main office.

Since it wasn't a briefing I ran past Ms. Studney's office and waved to the secretary as I opened and then jumped inside of a supply closet. It began to descend as soon as the door closed. It did so slowly, incidental music from last summer's super hero blockbuster playing softly in the background. I chuckled to myself as I was slowly lowered the three levels to the training complex beneath the school, thinking back to the first time I had to take the secondary elevator, a week before the start of my Freshman year.

Jessica and I were scheduled for a tour of the facilities, but because of traffic the bus I had relied upon to get me to the school had arrived late. So, after a hastened and confusing conversation with the secretary, I had entered the supply closet elevator and made my way down to join the tour, already in progress.

As luck would have it, I arrived just as Matt, a senior and the new leader of the Garder Fox Senior High team, was belatedly begun the tour without me.

"As with Parker Junior High, Fox Senior High was built with supers, and our training, in mind. Unlike Parker, we've got a fully-featured facility equipped to handle eight supers as well as our various instructors and support staff. We've got a martial arts training room, a battle simulation room, a debriefing room, and even our own gymnasium."

I came up behind Jessica and assaulted her with a hug. She, of course, expected it, but Matt was surprised.

"Ah, Mr. Martin," he began.

"Joe," I interrupted to correct him.

"Joe then, how nice of you to finally join us."

"My pleasure. The traffic was horrendous."

"Your girlfriend got here on time," he commented.

"But," I countered, "she didn't have to take the bus, now did she?"

"No," she chimed in, "she didn't. Instead, she ran here, and arrived five minutes early."

"Enough," he exclaimed. "We don't have time for excuses. You're here, and so I won't have to do this a second time." He then turned and walked down the hall. It looked like the halls three stories up, only without the lockers.

"As I was saying, Gardner Fox Senior High was built with supers in mind."

I shook my head as the elevator stopped. "Why" I said to myself as I ran through the well-lit halls, "do I keep thinking back to past?"

"Maybe," said an oddly familar voice from out of nowhere. I stopped, but it continued, "because those that don't remember their past are doomed to repeat it."

I frantically looked around, but could not find the source of the voice, nor could I place it's familiarity. I shook it off, and continued to the debriefing room. I stopped right before the door and caught my breath, then casually opened it.

"Ah," came that same familiar voice form inside the room. I continued in. They were replaying old mission tapes on the main screen. Underneath the image was the name of the person wearing the camera. It was then that I placed the voice I had heard to a name, the same name that was on the screen, Mike. He continued to speak on the tape, "So nice of you to finally join us."

Josefer Martin - Growing up Super - Chapter 3

2006-07-01T07:00:00.000-06:00

It would be another week before my change in status came into effect. During the school year Mike and Zelda had been called down to the office probably ten times, and since the new year, Jessica had joined them about three times. Now it was my turn to find out what was going on, since they had never told me.

"Would Michael Schultz, Zelda Moonfire, Jessica Martinez, and Josefer Martin please report to the office please," came the voice of the school secretary over the intercom.

Jessica and I were in our math class, and the teacher, Mr. Zelman, nodded to the two of us, "It's almost the end of class, so you two better take your bags with you."

I got up, knowing what to do only because Jessica had done it before and following her lead. I shoved my textbook and my notebook into my backpack and followed Jessica out of the classroom.

"So," I asked as we walked down the hall, "what's next?"

"You'll see," was all she said. We got to the office about the same time as Mike and Zelda, who were just coming down the stairs from the second floor.

"Joe," commented Mike, "I see you're finally ready to join the big leagues. At least, as big as we get here at William H. Parker Junior High."

Before I could even reply, the principal, Mr. Hernandez, stuck his head out of the office, "Come on in you four, we've got about a minute to go."

"A minute to go for what?" I asked, but nobody said anything. Instead, we all followed Mr. Hernandez to his office at the back of the school's office, Zelda and Jessica getting personal greetings from the secretary.

Once we were all in his office, Mr. Hernandez closed the door and locked it, "Now, Josefer."

"Call me Joe," I interrupted.

"Joe then. Joe, since you're new to this, I'll explain as I get my office ready." He walked around his desk and pulled the blinds closed as Mike, Zelda, and Jessica all got seated comfortably in the seats, leaving one left for me. "As young supers you have great power, but you don't know how to properly use it to defend use normals in the world. That's what this program is for."

He sat down at his desk and motioned for me to do the same. He then pressed a button and four of the pieces of art arranged on his wall faded away and were replaced by screens that showed a live camera feed from inside a helicopter.

"There are the Juniors and Seniors over at Gardner Fox Senior High. Today they've been called out to help defuse a hostage situation downtown." He then pressed a button and the audio kicked in.

"Control this is Bob."

"Reading you load and clear."

"Control, we're going live."

"Roger."

"Okay guys," said Bob, the leader of the mission. "We're doing this by the book. Erin, you're on assault. Jake, damage control. Sue, keep those hostages safe."

"Roger," came the chorus from the others in the helicopter.

"Okay, we'll port in a floor below them, on the 17th. Erin, Jake, you take the stairs. Sue, I'll get you as close as I can once they make their presence know, okay?"

"Yeah Bob, we got it," said an annoyed male, whom I assumed was Jake.

"Jake, we can do this without you, if you'd rather not."

"No, just, well, we've done this a million times in simulation."

"Yeah, and this is the real world. You'll be lead next year Jake, you can make the calls then. We're doing it this way."

"Roger," replied Jake with distain.

"On three. One. Two. Three."

The screens all whited out and then shifted to show the interior of an office building. The views all panned around.

"Clear," came the voice of one of the girls.

"Clear," said the other.

"Clear," said Bob.

"Clear," added Jake with annoyance.

"Okay, let's do this."

Two of the views nodded and started to go away from the other two, Jake and Erin going for the stairs. They got there and cautiously climbed to the eighteenth floor.

"Now," said Mr. Hernandez, "As you can see, both Jake and Bob are alphas, but with different outlooks on mission execution. This isn't uncommon, but we'd rather not see it, that's why we try to get you working together even now."

"Bob," came the second female voice, now confirmed as Erin, "we're in position."

"Roger, on three. One. Two. Three."

The two in the stairs charged through the door and chaos fell upon the cubicles. Bolts of energy, the color I couldn't tell from the back and white views, shot out from Erin's hands and connected with assailants. There were five of them, and within seconds, four of them were down, but one of them had ducked in time and was now retreating.

"We've got a runner. Coming your way," shouted Erin as she followed the last hostile.

"Damage contained," droned an annoyed Jake. His view had shown little except a few blocked bullets and bolts of energy, but luckily, no damage either.

"We've secured the hostages," said Sue.

"Erin, Jake, stop him!" shouted Bob as the hostile showed up on his screen. A shot was fired, and was stopped by either Jake or Sue's efforts, or both, before it could reach him. He charged, as did Erin from behind, and the resulting grapple was hard to understand from without or within.

Ten seconds later, a tired Bob called back over the radio, "Control. We're going to need a pickup. Hostiles contained, and subdued."

"Roger Bob, we'll meet you on the roof. Good job."

"Okay guys, let's blow this joint."

The screens went white again and then showed views from the top of the building as a black unmarked helicopter without doors came down for a landing.

The views then faded to black, and then back to the artwork that previously occupied their frames.

"Now," said Mr. Hernandez, "this was a successful mission, as most of them are. I'll need all of you to write a report on the team's effectiveness in containing the situation, as well as recommendations as to what you would have done."

"Okay," I replied, as I grabbed my backpack.

"No," said Mr. Hernandez, "now Mr. Martin, at least, you need to start it now. There's a minimum of fifteen minutes we can remove you from classes, and you've only been here for four."

I looked to see Jessica, Mike, and Zelda all frantically scribbling on paper, trying to get down notes and comments from what they had just watched.

I sat back down and got out my paper, "Is it always going to be like this?"

"No," said Mike, smiling. "Sometimes, we get to help."

Josefer Martin - Growing up Super - Chapter 2

2006-06-29T19:00:00.000-06:00

"Mr. Martin."

"Mr. Martin?"

"Mr. Martin!"

"Oh," I shook my head, trying to clear my mind and get back to the task at head. "Um, yeah Ms. Delarosa?"

"If you have been paying attention Mr. Martin, you would have known what I had asked you, but since you seem incapable of doing so, I'll repeat myself," scolded my quite upset Computer Programming teacher. "How would you write a sort to organize this data," and she indicated a table she had written on the white board which had about twenty-five entries, "by a user selectable parameter?"

I bit my lip, "Let me think." I knew it would come to me, it just would take a while. "Ah," I exclaimed. I then spouted off the code for a quick treesort that branched off in a four dimensional structure. I had seen a two dimensional version of it in practice final.

"Um," stammered Ms. Delarosa, "could you come up here and make a diagram so your classmates, and I, can understand?"

I smiled, "No, I can't."

She looked angry, again, "And why can't you?"

"Simple" I said, leaning back in my chair, "it's a four-dimensional sort, which means that to illustrate it, we'd have to live in a universe with at least five spacial dimensions. We've got three. Thought, I can illustrate a two-dimensional version, if you'd like."

"Sure," she said, unsure of what she'd gotten herself into.

I quickly walked up to the front and opened up a text editor, "First, I've got to write it out." I typed the code for a rudimentary 3-D model of three generations of the two-dimensional tree sort, and then rendered it. "As you can see," I explained, "while it's more complex to visualize then a more simple nested treesort, or any other kind of nested sort, it takes about thirty percent less time. On a list of two dozen items, it's not a difference, and you could get away with the nested sorts, but once you get into the thousands, or even millions, say if you're trying to determine the password within a set length, it's use become much more apparent."

Ms. Delarosa became shocked, not knowing what to say, "Um, well, thank you Mr. Martin, you can sit down now."

With a smile on my face, I walked back to my seat, and sat back down. I wasn't sure if what I had said actually would have worked, but that wasn't the point. It got Ms. Delarosa off my back, and she wouldn't know how to check to see if it worked.

I leaned back in my chair, content that I wouldn't be bothered until the class was over.

I thought back to the day my intuition kicked in. It was March of my seventh grade year, Jessica's acrobatics had kicked in just before Christmas, but I wasn't worried, since guys usually develop after girls. I was practicing my gadgets after school, putting together random pieces of electronics and mechanics until I got something that worked. I had been working on my goggles, the ones that Mike had stolen earlier today, but then they were just beginning to be special.

"Let's see," I had said, "the LED goes here." I soldered down an LED, hoping that it'd be a light source for the HUD. Then, as Mike had said seven months earlier, it just kicked in, and I figured out the exact nature of the circuit. At first I thought that, like some people, my secondary power was an enhancement of my primary power. i was overjoyed, but then, as I thought about it, I figured out it could have been like Mike's power, hyper intelligence.

"Hey, Mike," I said, looking over the pile of books he had in front of him, "I think my secondary power's manifested."

He put down the Calculus book he was studying, "So, what you got?"

"Not sure," I said, "maybe a boost to my gadgets, maybe hyper int like you."

"Well," he said, standing, "there's a test we can do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he grabbed a book of puzzles out of his backpack, "these are pretty easy for me, let's see how you do." He tossed it to me, and I caught it.

"Let's see here," I opened it up. They were sudoku puzzles. I grabbed a pencil out of my pocket, and started. At first, it wasn't any faster then I usually did, but then, I went faster, each new answer hastening the next. I finished the puzzle in two minutes, flipped the page, and started the next one. This one took my a minute, then the next one took my a bit less, but only because I had to extend the lead twice since it broke. After the tenth Mike spoke up.

"Joe, wait, stop," she pleaded.

"What?" I said, finishing the eleventh.

"Joe, you're not hyper int, or else there wouldn't have been a learning curve. I think you're an intuit."

"Intuit?"

"Think Sherlock Holmes, only quicker and without the deerstalker hat," he began, "but we'll have to talk with the principal to set up a test. I'm thinking at least a grade three, perhaps higher."

I smiled, "A grade three, that'd be great."

"But hey, you're still only an intuit. I'm still smarter then you."

"Thanks, you're a real uplifting guy."

"Hey, just telling it like it is."

OTR: Shut Up, Go Shopping, Support the War...and Nobody Gets Hurt!

2006-06-29T10:10:00.000-06:00

From thousandreasons.org. Ana excellent editorial about the the War, Bush, and the Tyranny the combination has wrought.

read more | digg story

Josefer Martin - Growing up Super - Chapter 1

2006-06-28T19:00:00.000-06:00

As I sat in the back of my seventh period computer programming class, one of my easiest classes, but still my favorite, I thought back over the day's events. Less then an hour before I had been held at gunpoint by a man I once called my best friend, who then robbed me of my most prized possession, and ran off both my new worst enemy and a multi-millionaire.

I then thought back further, back to the first time I met Mike and Zelda. It was the August of seventh grade, a week before classes were to begin. Jessica and I, at that time just beginning our partnership, and still getting the feeling of our eventual relationship, had been invited by the administration to tour our new school, William H. Parker Junior High School.

When we arrived at nine in the morning, having been dropped off separately by our parents, we weren't sure what to do. The parking lot was almost empty, but after walking up to the doors, we realized that the front doors were open. In retrospect, it's logical, since we were supposed to be there, but when you're twelve years old, the logic circuits aren't quite working at full capacity.

Jessica led the way, since she could sense the two people waiting for us in the lobby. I followed close behind, not really knowing what to expect. The two people waiting were just a bit older then us, actually a year or so, but otherwise looked entirely normal.

"You two must be Jessica, and Joseph," said the boy, "I'm Mike, and this is Zelda."

"Actually," I spoke up, "It's Josefer, but you can call me Joe."

"My bad," said Mike with a smile, "well, no matter, we'll get it all sorted out later. In the meantime, we're here to show you around Parker Junior High. Zelda here will show Jessica around, and I'll show Joe around."

"Yeah, sounds good," I admitted. He exuded confidence, and had definite charisma.

He took me by the shoulder and we walked down the main hall, the girls started up the stairs to look around the second floor. "Joe," he said, "I can call you Joe, right?"

"Yeah Mike," I confirmed, still unsure of what the proper response should have been.

"Joe, I remember what it was like when I was in your position. Still unsure of what to do, what not to do, and how to act around norms and supes. Well, I can't tell you how to act around norms, since that's for tomorrow, but the rest I can teach you, and so much more."

As we walked around the school, he showed me the various classrooms and offices, as well as the hidden places that the norms didn't know about. He talked about what I'd expect of both my school hours, and my extracurricular activities. He explained how we'd be taught the bits of history left out of the norms' educations, plus the extensive civics and martial arts instructions we'd receive.

He also talked about how the supe program worked. Before that day, I'd hadn't known much. Just what they'd told us at the Orientation Camp in July, and what I'd gleaned from the internet, some of which Mike was contradicting. He explained about the two stage power process, about how a supe would be born with one power, one they knew how to control from birth, but then, once they reached puberty, they'd gain a second, more powerful power.

He then bragged about how his second power had manifested in the middle of his math class, about how one moment he'd had to figure out the answer, and the next it just came to him. He then explained how he'd cheated by hacking into the school's computer system and changed all his classmates' grades to make himself look as smart as he knew, or at least thought, he was, at least by comparison.

That should have been my first clue as you what kind of man Mike would turn out to be, but then I wasn't an intuit, just a gadgeteer. By the time the day was up, and my parents had arrived to take me home, I had learned a whole lot about the world that most norms never did. I had also gotten my first glimpse as my future best friend, and worst enemy.

Josefer Martin - A Day in the Life - Chapter 4

2006-06-27T19:00:00.000-06:00

"…ome in. I repeat. Joe, Jess, this is Control, Come in." came the panicked voice over the radio.

"Control, this is Joe, we're here," I replied. He looked over to Jessica, and then at the vault around us, empty as it was.

"Joe, what happened?"

"Control, we have a problem. Mission failed."

"What do you mean failed," interrupted James over the radio, "Mel and I trounced those robbers like two minutes ago. Heck, we'd be out of here by now if you two hadn't been incommunicado."

"Jay," I said, my voice strained, I wasn't mad at him, but at myself, "The vault is empty. It was cleared out about thirty seconds ago. Poof, gone, and I didn't have time to trace it."

"What? But, you've been in there for three minutes, are you telling me you let them escape?"

"No," interjected Jessica, "He's saying we couldn't do anything about it. They'd already collected everything by the time we got here. If they had wanted to, we wouldn't have known until they checked the vault after we were gone."

"It was a trap," I added, "and a damn good one."

"Joe," commanded Control, "are you two ready for an evac?"

I looked over to Jessica, she nodded. "Yes Control. What's the location?"

"The roof, Jay and Mel are up here already."

"Roger, we'll be up in minute."

"You've got thirty seconds."

I quickly removed my headset, and looked at Jessica, "You ready for a jump?"

She nodded, "Yeah." She then took a step and hugged me. I blinked, and we dropped thirty centimeters to the roof. I released the hug after a quick squeeze, and turned to face the waiting helicopter.

"You two lovebirds coming or not?" asked Jay over the roar of the rotors. I barely heard him, but the headset was still in my hand.

I looked at Jessica, then tipped my head towards the waiting chopper. She nodded and we jogged over to the open door, ducking low so that the down-wash wouldn't knock us over.

We got inside and strapped ourselves in.

Jay tapped his headset, so I got the hint and put mine back on.

"Control, we're secure," I said, as the helicopter lifted off the roof of the bank.

"So," asked Melissa, "anyone we know?"

"Yeah," replied Jessica, "Zelda and Mike."

"What," exclaimed James, "I thought they'd skipped town!"

"Probably did," I explained, quickly thinking over the situation, "got themselves some costumes, probably some handles, and definitely some mooks. They came back for a reason."

"Money?" asked Melissa.

"Well," I explained, "not exactly. Yeah, they got the money, but it was to gloat, and to tell Jess and I that they were back, and that they weren't playing nice."

"Well, I'm sure the Supes can capture them," offered Melissa.

"No," said Jessica confidently, "Mike's too smart for that. Heck, you know how hard it was to communicate through that vault. If Zelda can put up a protection zone that secure in an unfamiliar place, image how secure their lair would be."

"Yeah," I conformed, "plus, Mike's smarter then most of the Supes in the city. Combined with Zelda's spells, which are as potent as any Supe in state can muster, they'll be nearly unstoppable."

"Nearly," confirmed James, "but you got a plan, right?"

I smiled, "Oh, yeah, lots of them, but they'll never work." I paused, then continued, "You see, I don't know enough of the details. Mike made sure of it. He knows as much about my limitations as I do, maybe more. He knows that I need clues to deduce from. Even Sherlock Holmes would have trouble with this one. The security on the vault and Zelda's hold on Jess and I ran out almost ten seconds after they left. I need a teleport to be less then two seconds old before I can get a lock, Jessica, being a teleporter doesn't need that fresh a trail, but still, ten seconds was too old. We couldn't trace the teleport before the trail dissipated."

There was a pause, then Melissa chimed in, "But, they've got a weakness, right? The universe won't let someone get that much power with a weakness. It's a fundamental law."

"Yeah, and that's the one bright spot in all of this," I acknowledged. "Zelda's a spellcaster, which slows her down. Mike's got an ego the size of a small moon."

"So," asked James, "we'll get them, right?"

"Yeah," I said, but it lacked confidence. I looked out the window at the city passing below us, "we'll get them. He's got something of mine, and I intend to get it back."

Josefer Martin - A Day in the Life - Chapter 3

2006-06-26T19:00:00.000-06:00

"Control," I continued, but there was no answer.

"It's no use Joe," Mike noted.

"Control, this is Joe, come in Control."

"I told you, it's useless."

"Control, we have a problem, respond," I said, worried.

"Joe!" Mike shouted, I stopped and looked at him. His hair, which used to be dyed black last year, was now a bright red. He was angry. "Your radio can't get through these walls."

"But," I began., he interrupted.

"But Jessica could sense us, I know," he put way his gun, it's holster hidden under his suit jacket. The jacket, along with his tie, the shirt, his pants, and even his shoes, were all dyed in a flame pattern. Right now, his clothes matched his hair, a combination that probably hadn't happened since the last time he worn the black jumpsuit before he graduated. "That's because it's a trap. I set a trap, a simple bank robbery. Have the mooks hold up the joint, create a ruckus, while Zel and I snuck into the vault. Since there are only four of them, and there weren't any supers overtly involved, I knew they'd send you. You see, it was all a part of my plan."

He smiled. I didn't. He continued.

"This vault," he gestured around him, "is very secure, at least, now it is. A minute ago, it wasn't. When we got here I had Zel whip up a two stage spell. The first stage weakened the vault, making it as easy to sense thoughts through as a piece of paper. That was the bait. Now that you're here, it's a bit stronger then it normally is, stage two." He smiled, "Zel, tell our guests what you've done."

"Gladly," she sneered. "Well, originally, the vault was just protected by a two foot thick wall of lead, concrete, and a titanium mesh. Secure, but only against telepaths, and only up to a Grade Four. Now, it's been reinforced to be completely magic, thought, and radio impenetrable. So, even though Miss Grade Two here could sense in," and she gestured to Jessica, "now nothing can get in or out, except me of course."

"Good job Zel," said Mike with a smile. "So, with a new situation, there was only two options you had. Either stick to the plan, take care of the mooks with all four of you, but potentially let the real thieves go, or split up, the Brick and the Telekinetic taking care of the mooks, four on two, a good morale booster, and you two coming here to the vault via one of Jessie's teleports. I knew you'd go for the latter. You're so predictable, all you Intuits are. Give you a situation and ninety percent of the time, you'll all do the same thing. Having known you for as long as I have, plus a bit of pushing from Zel, and I got it up to a hundred percent."

"So," I interrupted, "now that you've got us, what do you want?"

"To gloat," he said confidently. "To prove that no matter how fast you plan, you're too short term. That I can still out-plan even you, a Grade Five Intuit, because I'm smarter."

"Revenge?" asked Jessica.

"No, that'll come later, just you wait. No, now that we've had this little chat, it's time to get moving," Mike countered.

"So, you're robbing banks now? That the best plan you could come up with, Mr. Flame?" I goaded him.

"Wait," interjected Jessica, "I thought it was the Human Zippo?"

"No," I said, a smile creeping across my face, "I know what it is. The Great Flambé."

"Stop!" shouted Mike. His hands were clenched in fists at his side, wreathed in flame. Zelda stopped snickering a half-second later. "Zel, silence them."

Zelda smiled, "My pleasure." Her hand left the grip of the pistol, which continued to float in mid-air, pointed at Jessica. She brought her hands together, palm to palm, in front of her, and her irises fading from blue to white, and her skirt billowing up to fly straight out from her hips. The color of her tank top, skirt, and knee-high boots faded to white as well. Then, a second after she began, she stopped, her eyes returning to blue with a blink, and her clothes to their former hot pink just as fast. She grabbed the pistol from out of the air.

I opened my mouth to speak, but found that I couldn't, which was expected from Zelda's actions.

"Now that I don't have to listen to the two of you yammer on, I'll continue," he preached, probably not realizing the irony of his words. "I came up with this trap for two reasons. First, to let you two know Zelda and I were back in town, and that we're on the rise. Second, well, if you're going to rob a bank," and he pauses to point at the small pile of black plastic crates in front of the vault door, "you might as well take it all."

He gestured around the room, "Two hundred safe deposit boxes, and the morning's cash deposits, plus the records from the last five years. I got it all, and you can't stop me." He walked over to the crates, and popped one open, "Two million dollars in bonds." He then opened another, "Fifty-thousand in small, unmarked, non-sequential, used bills. A kidnapper's dream come true." He then closed them both, and walked back over to Jessica and I, "Oh, and I'll also be taking this."

He reached up to my face and grabbed my goggles. I tried to move, tried to stop him, but I couldn't. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Zelda shake her finger at me, scolding me, "Not so fast Mr. Martin."

"Exactly," said Mike, pocketing my goggles. "Now, I've got your goggles, the set of goggles your father left you when he died. The goggles that you received a special dispensation to wear as part of your uniform, after you integrated advanced electronics of course. These little babies change this from just a botched attempt to stop a bank robber to something personal."

It did, and every person in the room knew it was true.

"So," started Zelda, "Now that all is said and done, it's time we take our leave." She turned, leaving the pistol pointed at Jessica, and strutted over to the crates. She turned on the ball of her foot, "In about," and she paused to look at her watch, "thirty seconds, the silence will wear off, as will my reinforcements on the vault. You'll probably have ten seconds to get some sort of trace on my teleport, which we all know neither of you can't do in under twelve, before the path corrodes too far to trace." Mike walked up next to her, and put his arm around her waist, bringing her close and kissing her on the cheek.

"So long, and thanks for the good time," Mike said sarcastically.

Zelda smiled and waved goodbye, as the pair and the crates disappeared in a puff of white smoke. Her final word still hanging in the air, "Toodles."

Josefer Martin - A Day in the Life - Chapter 2

2006-06-25T19:00:00.000-06:00

Five minutes after leaving Mr. Fornby's sixth period physics class I was preparing to jump out of a perfectly good helicopter. The four of us were leaning out of the open doors as Ms. Studney piloted. Next to me, wearing a skin-tight black jumpsuit, was Jessica. She looked at me through her sunglasses and smiled. I then looked behind me at James and Melissa. They too were wearing the black jumpsuits and sunglasses. I nodded to them, and then set my goggles down over my eyes. As the HUD popped up and focused, Ms. Studney began to speak over the radio, "Joe, you're lead on this one."

I took a deep breath, "Roger control." I then looked out below the helicopter, as it hovered 300 meters over the street below, "Three. Two. One. Jump!"

The four of us executed a precision exit from the helicopter, and began a quick descent. I focused on the altimeter reading on the HUD. "Three," I shouted over the wind, "Two. One. Stop."

Suddenly, two meters above the pavement of the alley, we stopped falling. I quickly executed a mid-air flip and landed on the asphalt. The other three followed suit, "Good jump. Mel, nice catch."

"Not sure we were going to make it," she replied.

"Would I let you down?" I asked, as I looked over the wall. I pressed a button on my belt and a hologram of the bank building popped up. I pointed to a section of wall a meter to the left, "Behind there's a storage room. We'll enter there."
Jessica looked at the four of us, "I'll have to make two trips."

"No time, Jay, if you would, a door?" I asked, as I walked to the wall opposite our future point of entry, "Mel, shield."
As James crushed through the wall, Mel projected a telekinetic field to protect us from the debris. Once inside the storage room, Jessica frowned.

"Control said four hostiles, right?" ash asked.

"Yeah, and a dozen or so hostages, what's the matter?" asked James, trying dust the concrete from his black jumpsuit, and failing miserably.

Jessica pointed at the still-floating hologram, and four figures popped up in red, "Well, there's four hostiles here." She then swept her hand back and forth and the room filled with the huddled forms of just over a dozen people, all green, "And thirteen hostages." She then left the lobby and pointed at the vault, where two more figures appeared, in blue, "Plus two unknown in the vault. They seem familiar, but I can't place them."

"Okay, change of plans," I said, taking command, "Jay, Mel, you take out the four up front, make sure none of the greens get hurt, and the red's are only out cold. Jess and I will take the vault in a port and pound."

"Roger," the replied, and we exited the storage room, Melissa and James taking a left, towards the front of the building, and Jessica and I went right, to get around to the vault.

Another two minutes, and we were in position, "Ready?"

"Ready," came the reply from Melissa a the front, just outside the lobby.

"Three," I began, grasping Jessica's hand, "Two. One. Go!"

Suddenly, Jessica and I were two meters forwards, inside the vault. Just as suddenly, I head the click-click of two guns being cocked.

"Hello Joe," came a voice from my left, a familiar voice.

"Jess, nice to see you again," came another from my right.

I sighed, seeing the faces behind the voices and the guns. On the left was Mike, a year older then me, and on the right was his girlfriend, and partner, Zelda. They had graduated at the top of their class last year, and then fell off the face of the Earth.

Mike smiled, and I radioed in quickly, "Control, we have a problem."

Josefer Martin - A Day in the Life - Chapter 1

2006-06-24T19:00:00.000-06:00

"Josefer to the office please," said the shrill voice over the classroom speaker.

Not again, I thought, as I began to quickly clean up my desk. I glanced up at Mr. Fornby, he looked mad. He was just in the middle of a lecture on using integrals to find the instantaneous velocity of the planets. This was the third time this week that I'd been called down to the office, and the second time during his Physics period.

"Is there a problem Mr. Martin?" he asked, trying to guild trip me into staying until the end of the period. He tried this last time, and the time before that, a month ago, and before that too. It never worked, but I guess what little ego he had as a high school teacher demanded that he at least try.

"I hope not, but you know the drill," I hastily explained as I hefted my backpack onto my left shoulder and began to walk to the front.

"It's a good thing you're acing all of your tests, Mr. Martin, or I'd have to have a talk with the principal about this," Mr. Fornby countered. He knew it was a lost cause. Ms. Studney, the principal, had explained to the teachers at the beginning of the year what was what, but they still didn't like their classes being interrupted.

"Hey, well, see you tomorrow, there's a test, right?" I asked as he reached the door to his classroom, turning to at least give him that courtesy.

"Yeah, tomorrow," he admitted with defeat. It's not like he could have won. Ms. Studney had to answer to the school board, and then the county after that. There's no way she'd let me, or Mr. Fornby, off the hook if I stayed. No, this was the way it had to be, and that way it had been since 7th grade.

I thought back on that last six years as I rushed down the hall, towards the office. I tried not to go too fast, but just fast enough to make up for lost time.

I had missed ten hours of school in 7th grade, including one day where it was four hours plus two hours after school. That was the first year I ever got straight A's. Eighth grade wasn't much different, that by then I was up to twenty hours a semester, and I missed the Junior High Spring Formal, not that my date was there either.

As I turned the corner from the Science hall to the Main hall, I thought back to my first year here, twenty-five hours a semester, and I even missed one full day. I also missed almost every single prep rally, so it's not exactly a big loss. Sophomore year was more of the same, except for an errant French teacher who decided that she'd penalize me for all my missed time. Last I heard she was working as a private tutor in Tokyo, harsh, but she broke the rules.

Last year, my Junior year, I missed fifty-three hours of school over both semesters. I even missed my junior prom. That sucked, but, such is life. Luckily, my girlfriend had understood since we got together in the summer before seventh grade, we'd been going steady ever since.

I finally made it to the office, and saw that Mr. Fornby had delayed me enough to make it here last. Already waiting with Ms. Studney was Jessica, my girlfriend, James, a large African-American who was a year behind me, could have player for the varsity football team, if he hadn't have missed the first game last year. Lastly, there was Melissa, James' girlfriend. They'd been steady since seventh grade as well.

"Good, now that Mr. Martin's here, we can get this over with," sneered Ms. Studney. He opened her office door, and followed us in. We sat down in the four seats in front of her desk as she walked around to face us.

"Now, to why I called you all here," she began, pressing a small button hidden under the edge of his desk. As she explained the situation, the room quickly descended three stories.

She finished just after the room stopped, adding a , "Good Luck," as we made our way out her office door. The room beyond looked like a locker room, and in a way it was, but it only had eight lockers, and there wasn't separate rooms for the girls and the guys. As Melissa and Jessica began to take off their clothes, I nodded my head at James.

Sometimes, being a teenage super hero has it perks.

[IC] A Recounting

2006-05-13T23:07:00.000-06:00

A dark-skinned man clad in a red linen shirt walked into the Goldshire Inn. His chain leggings made little sound as he sat down in front of the fire. He could barely hear the battle cries of the various duels outside the Inn, something that he had grown tired of shortly after entering the Inn itself.

Across from him sat nobody, and that was how it almost always was for him. He rarely travelled with others, though those that he did he kept in touch with when he could. Instead, he reached into one of his belt pouches, and removed a simple leather-bound journal. It looked new, probably recently purchased in Stormwind. He removed a pencil and began to write.

This is the story of Därtzen van Grüden. I was born twenty-three years ago, in a Weastfall farmhouse, now a burned-out ruin of a better time. I had a family once, a mother, a father, a kid sister, but now, they are all gone. Killed or kidnapped on an otherwise ordinary summer night.

I still relive that night in my dreams, less often with every month, but still, it comes to me. The warm embrace of my mother as she put my sister and I to bed. The game Mëlinda and I always played as a way of staying up later. The stern look from father that always showed a hint of anger, as well as love. The scream of my mother as she clutched my sister and I in the corner. The look of glee in the eyes of the masked man as he advanced. The futile attempt mother made to spare our lives. The cries as they look Mëlinda away. The loneliness as I wept for mother and father. The smell of smoke. The crackle of fire. My brief but futile attempts to drag their bodies from the house. The burning sensation as I leapt from the inferno into the grass. My sorrow as I felt truly alone, and was.

But, I've grown. I've made a place for myself, not much of one, but a place just the same. I've fought back. First in Northshire, then in Elwynn, then in Westfall, Moonbrook, and the Mines. I've taken the fight to them. I've had setbacks, yes, but I'm still here. I'm still fighting. And that, well, that makes me who I am. I am Därtzen van Grüden, and this is my story.

Plans are made to be broken.

2006-03-23T15:16:00.000-07:00

Well, so much for my plan to post more often. Heck, I've even got a [PLAN] post already written up, but I'm just not in the mood for it. I guess, well, that I've gotten complacent, not really wanting to post because I don't have to, or really want to, well, scratch that, I want to post, just not more then I want to WoW, or watch TV. It's about priorities, and I never got far enough into this thing for it to become a priority. Heck, my first post was back at the beginning of the Fall semester, and here it is, spring break, and I'm on like my two dozenth post.

Not a very good blog, but then again, that's about par for the course with me. I get really into something for a week or so, then fall off when nothing really comes out of it. Right now, this blog is just for me, and since I don't have any investment into it, at least, not recently, I really don't seem to have a lot of care for it.

Well, here's hoping that putting the [PLAN] tag on my last post doesn't mean that that plan is an improbable one.

[META][PLAN] Resurrecting the blog

2006-03-19T16:13:00.000-07:00

We all make plans in life. From the mundane, everyday plans of our daily rituals, to our vacation plans, our wedding plans, our retirement plans, our plans for our children, and out plans for our own life. Each and every one is an attempt to add order to the chaos of everyday life. Plans do change, though, some subtly, other more dramatically, but still, they change.

I bring this up because of my reflecting I've recently done regarding my own plans. I have many many, many plans throughout my life. From the mundane, to the life-altering, from the practical, to the fanciful. Some of them were used once and discarded. Others are used on a daily or weekly basis. Some were begun to be implemented, and then aborted or radically altered. Most, though, were thought up, and then abandoned before they could even become to come to fruition, orphaned to the whims of fate.

Now, most of that latter category are contingent on improbable or impossible circumstances, plans that could never come to fruition, or even begun, because of the conditions for implementation. So, in the interest of reinvigorating this faltering blog, hopefully one of my better plans, I will post those impossible plans. Each of these posts, like this one, will have the [PLAN] tag as a prefix, just to make it easier to navigate.

So, here' to one of my better plans.

The War

2006-03-19T15:57:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why I started this, ro where I'm going with it, but here it is, none the less. Life has finally become mundane, at elast for a while. I have recently found myself conflicted though. I don't support the president, I didn't vote for him in '04, and I wasn't able to put my vote towards Gore in '00. This is the first part of my conflicting thoughts.

The second, though, is that I agree with him on one point. Just one. I agree that we need to stay in Iraq for the foreseeable future. I don't agree with any of the myriad reasons put forth for the commencement of Gulf War II, but I can't see any logical reason for the US to end it at this time. You see, if we were to pull out every troop right now, we'd lose. We'd stop losing lives, even though this is the least deadly war in US history (though there is a shitload of casualties), but we'd lose the war, and a few other things. We'd lose our credibility, since if we pull out, who will trust us in the future, when we couldn't even finish what we started.

We need to stay in Iraq, no because of democracy, though that is fine and dandy, but because if we leave, the terrorists win. They gain an unstable country with millions of sympathizers, and we lose one of our few allies in the region. Sure, we're not going about this the smartest way, but we can't just leave, it would cascade into another isolationist movement like we had after WWI, and that lead to WWII, because we refused to join in. This is a worse case scenario, the best case is just a mild PR nightmare, and the Iraqi people banding together to form a strong and liberal Muslim democracy.

So, we need to stay, and we need to help support the Iraqi citizens. We need to get the Iraqis defending themselves, and to see the terrorists for exactly what they are, homicidal maniacs that don't want to see a free and democratic Iraq. Sure, we put Saddam in power, but he was the lesser of two evils, and then he became the greater evil, but we left him in power after GWI because of politics. If we can't support an Iraqi coalition government, then he might become, once more, the lesser evil. That would be a sad day for America.

So, I hate to admit it, but I agree with President Bush, we need to stay the course in Iraq, because the alternative is worse.

Big E, Little e, and Faith...

2005-12-21T12:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, so, it's been like what, two months, plus, since I updated this thing? Well, here's a bit that I just had to put somewhere for people to see.

In today's Schlock Mercenary, Howard Taylor discussed the subject of Evolution, Intelligent Design, and Me. Now, while I may not share his religious faith, this essay is probably the best way to state my own beliefs.

I believe in God, and I'm a scientist. I know that God created the universe, and that he created it in such a way so that we, his creation, could, one day, understand it. This understanding comes from science, and from faith. But, once must realize that faith without science is blind faith, and science without faith is just as blind.

Each new scientific discovery I hear of reveals to me a new and more interesting level of God's love for us. Take the discovery of antibiotics, a way for us to not only finally claim dominion over some of the smallest of the beings God placed under us, but through the evolution (little e) of resistant bacterium, a new level of hubris.

[IC] A Different Point of View

2005-10-10T23:21:00.000-06:00

The below is an in character post on behalf of Hamsa Garmand, a half-elven marshall.

Today was a bad day. Not that it was the first time I had seen death on the field of battle. It was not the first time I had seen an elf fall beneath the blade of an orc. It was not the second time that I had won the field of battle, but lost the engagement.

No, today reminded me of the life I left behind so many years ago, the life I had thought left behind in an orc prisoner of war camp. A life that I never excelled at.

My mother was the great general, and I was just living in her shadow. She was the tactical genius, the one that could bring victory from the jaws of defeat. Instead, I just deliver defeat from the jaws of victory.

A friend of mine died today. He died in a pointless battle, a battle that had been lost the moment we were ambushed. We, no, I had grown complacent. We had won, we had achieved the objective. We were on our way to claim our prize, and await further missions from our new benefactor.

Instead, I sit here, in the middle of nowhere, keeping a vigil over a dead friend. I should have seen it coming. A woman standing in the middle of the road, a choke point, with a hill on one side, perfect cover for snipers, and a forest on the other, no place to run. So, instead, we tried to talk, and it only allowed them to perfect their aim. The first few seconds were deadly, with arrows and spells raining from the hillside as we desperately tried to escape the mass of horse flesh that was rendered by the magical webbing.

I should have used that moment as a rallying point, brought us out of the ambush with the stakes in our favor, not theirs. Instead, I ran, and hid, like a mere recruit, not the major I once was, or the general my mother was. No, I did not attempt to rally until the fight was lost, and even then it did little good. Sure, it saved one, but at the cost of another, and the mission. Was it worth it?

Was it worth losing two to save one? Did it even have to come to that?

No, on both counts. But, there is a small silver lining. Where once was a group divided, on the verge of rupture, there is now a group united by experience in battle. Instead of a near blood feud, instead there is review, and tactics, and a newfound sense of frailty, and the yearning to not let a friend die in vain.

So, here's to you, my friend, my kinsman, here's to you.

May the light shine softly through the branches, and may you find peace in the land of our ansestors.

Abotion, Crime, and Social Engineering

2005-09-21T23:53:00.000-06:00

Okay, well, as is my custom, I read Orson Scott Card's Ornery American article, which this/last week (it was date-lined the 11th, but didn't get released to the web until either today or yesterday) was on the topic of abortion, crime, and an emerging field of statistical analysis called Freakonomics. In this article, OSC discusses the book, as well as an application of the books ideas upon an aspect of society.

I recommend you go read it now, because I'm going to assume you did.

Go!

Okay, so, you've read it. Good, wasn't it? Well, if not, then, post a comment. If you agree, post anyway.

So, I agree with his analysis of the information, but since I really haven't examined the raw statistics, I can't comment upon anything but the logic of the analysis, and the logic is sound. So, the crime boom of the 70s and 80s was because of extra-marital and irresponsible sex, and the subsequent decline is because of abortion, which allowed this fetuses to be murdered before they came to term. Inadvertent policing through eugenics and murder.

Peace, but at what cost?

Perspective

2005-09-19T07:08:00.000-06:00

I've never lived through a natural disaster, at least, not a real disaster. I've seen them, hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, fires, you name it, if there was a camera there, I saw it happen. So, when Katrina struck, I, along with all the other people in the world who could do nothing but watch, did just that, watch.

I saw the devastation, and I, being the cynic that I am, said that New Orleans would flood. I thought it would be from the hurricane, and I was wrong. No, it was because of the floods.

My perspective has not changed. I am still of the belief that people who live in Florida shouldn't complain about hurricanes, that people who live in the flood-plane shouldn't complain about floods, people who live on a known and active fault shouldn't complain about earthquakes, and people who live in the forest, their homes mere feet away from the trees, shouldn't complain about forest fires. These are natural disasters that have been happening for millions of years, and will happen for millions more.

But, my perspective has changed. I realize that some people can't leave Florida, or the flood-plane, or the fault line, or the forest, because they are too poor to leave. Of course, for every poor person without a chance, there's a rich person without a clue.

Here's to perspective.

[IC] The Adventuers of Aziz Banjari - Chapter 1

2005-09-18T11:14:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, here we go, the first post in my serialized short story, The Adventures of Aziz Banjari.

My name iz Aziz Banjari, ant zez are my storiez.

It vaz late is ze zummer, zome of ze trees, zay were already turning ze pale yellow of ze fall. It vas just after my graduation from ze Citadel, ze County'z military college, vitch iz just zouth of Jedbridge. By zen I had traveled down ze Artonzemay River, and was zaying a vhile in Radigast. You zee, I had not been zelected to zerve ze County vhen I graduated, zo I vas all trained, vith nothing to do. Zo, I did what all ze over-trained ant under-employed do, I vent to ze bar, and I zarted drinking.

I vaz deep into my zecond glass of vine, after my third mug of ze blackezt beer I had ever zeen. You zee, ze County, she iz known for many zings, vine and beer, zay are two of zem. But, ziz iz not a zory of a man drowning hiz troublez in beer and vine, no, ziz iz a much more noble tale. It iz ze tale of danger, exzitement, adventure, and most importantly, ze heroez!

Freeform

2005-09-17T23:44:00.000-06:00

Well, tonight's post isn't pre-written, so it's not going to be long. Why isn't it pre-written, well, I spent my time today writing, yes, but the first chapter in a book about the adventures of one of my LG characters, not exactly content for this blog. Mainly because I don't own the story, or most of the characters involved, just the one, Aziz Banjari, Half-Rhen, Half-Elf, Marshal. He's fus to play, because my image of the Rhennee are that of ze free-wheeling river folk zat ploy the vaters vith thick accents and fun vocabulary.

Plus, so far most of it's written in first person, rather then third person, so the accent runs a little thick at time, fun, but thick. So, instead, I'm going to talk a bit about work, and my day at work. It was fairly boring, since my highlight was writing, and the lowlight was a simultaneous breakdown of both digital photo machines.

The first was the Aladdin, which is basically a touch-screen monitor connected to a networked server, serving the images customers bring in to another server, called the PIC, which then send it to yet another server, which along with the printer, is called the Frontier. So, it seems, after about two hours of wrangling (thank God for slow nights), that the NIC in the Aladdin is out, broken, kaput.

Well, then the KPM (Kodak Picture Maker), ran out of the thermal printing ribbon, so I had to find time to fix that as well, but at least that could be fixed.

So, off to bed with me, and hopefully, a pre-written post on the morrow.

New Trigonometry Is A Sign Of The Times

2005-09-17T10:08:00.000-06:00

Digg Description:
"Mathematics students have cause to celebrate. A University of New South Wales academic, Dr Norman Wildberger, has rewritten the arcane rules of trigonometry and eliminated sines, cosines and tangents from the trigonometric toolkit."

Well, I'm not sure if it'll change the world, but it's definitely an interesting concept, and one, if it's not too expensive a book, will probably be looking at more closely in the future.

read more | digg story

Porn (Amateur and Otherwise)

2005-09-17T00:44:00.001-06:00

Well, today I saw yet another example of the oddity of America. In addition to the normal odd and stupid things that I, as a photo tech, see, I am once more faces with a supreme example of the odd, amateur pornography.

Now, I don't have a problem with porn, in fact, I usually check out a few free porn sites on a fairly regular basis (say, one a day). Now, my parents, who I know read, or used to read at one point, this blog might know I look or porn. What they might not know is how long I've looked at various pornographic images, since, say, my sophomore year of high school, when we first got High Speed Internet. Yeah, it was illegal, but, I was a lower-tier geek, I had to fit in with at least the outcasts, so, I looked at porn to fit in. Plus, it was a way for me to at least think I out-smarted my parents, even though I suspect they knew about my actions, they never really caught me, so I never really got in trouble. Well, there was this one time, but that really doesn't count. Anyway, it was also, in addition to the social and political aspects, it was a way for me to be a rebel, breaking the rules, and a few laws, to get my jollies.

Now, of the hundreds of free and pay porn sites I have found in my seven-odd years of searching, only one has remained for any duration of time. Almighty Zeus.com, one which I only discovered about, oh, three years ago, only after I was actually legal. Now, I didn't find this site while looking for porn, no, at this time I was still in my Google Directory phase. Instead, I happened up a banner ad that intrigued me. It was on a site run by a friend of mine from high school, [REDACTED], and it was a plain, two-frame, animation of a guy with a content look on his face bounding up and down about three pixels, with a word bubble that said "fap, fap, fap, fap". I had seen this add probably about twenty different times, and since I'm not one to click on banner ads, I had never seen what was beyond it's yellow contentment. So, one day, while I was sitting in my dorm room, I decided to take the plunge, and clicked on the ad, and the rest, as they say, is history. Or not, if you're smart enough to delete it from the history, and the cache, and the address bar, oh, and probably a few other places on the computer, just to make sure nobody finds it.

So, yes, I look at porn, but not the degrading stuff, no, I look at only the best, highest quality free porn, which usually entails searching for just one name. Now, shortly after finding Almighty Zeus, I looked at every free gallery, then, I stopped looking at the amateur ones, no class. Then, I stopped looking at the blondes, never really liked blondes, too linked to stupidity, and I don't like stupid women. So, that limited me to brunettes and redheads, and since redheaded porn stars, at least ones that were born that way (redheaded, not a porn star), are rare, I stuck mostly with the brunettes. So, among the various brunettes, one stuck out. She was classy, sexy, had a great figure, and a modest bosom (though still large enough), oh, and she was smart enough that she ran her own web site and got a significant piece of the revenue off her images. She was smart an sexy, her name Crissy Moran. Now, unlike most men that look at porn, I don't like the really hardcore stuff, I feel that I'm degrading the women enough by looking, I'm not going to go that extra mile and leave nothing of mystery. So, I prefer to look at tasteful porn, mostly bikini and lingerie shots, though some partial nudity, if done right, is still tasteful. Of course, my opinion of her isn't hurt by the fact that she's rather short, only about five foot two, so she's got great proportions.

So, now that we've hit amateur and professional pornography, as well as my history therein, let's do a little housekeeping. This is my first post in quite a while, and it's bothered some people, especially me. I could think of tons of really good blog ideas, like this one, while at work, but by the time I'd gotten home, I'd have thought the topic to death. So, today, and hopefully every, or every other, day for a good while, I'm going to pre-write my blog entries at work and school, so that they're down on paper and out of my head before they are thought to death.

So, here's to old fashioned pen, paper, and pornography.

P.S. - Just a thought. If you see condoms, contraceptives, and sexual lubricants, are you a part of the sex industry?

Edit (05/16/2011): Redacted names and links upon request.

Epiphany

2005-08-30T12:18:00.000-06:00

I think I've discovered why I'm having a problem in the Monday Night game.

I was reading my interpersonal communication book, and I read a passage about the four elements of relational messages in communication.

The first is affinity, basically, how much you like or dislike the other person you are communicating with.

Second, is immediacy, the degree of interest and attention we feel towards the communication.

I'll get to the third in a bit, but the fourth is Control, which is a measure of the degree of power each person in the relationship has over the other.

Now, when it comes to these three, I think there's proper balance. I like all the guys well enough, and the interest is there, and as a group, we pretty much equally share the power (though my leaving after the discovery of the wagon was a way of me exerting control, I admit). It's the third element that I think is lacking.

The third element, and the one I believe is crucial in my continued enjoyment of the game, is respect, the degree of esteem you have for the other communicator. That's the element I think is a bit one sided in the game. I respect most of the guys a lot, though one or two I have a problem with, but I don't know if they respect me. I don't think they hold my ideas with the same weight they would others, like my mother or father. I know I'm younger then all of them, heck, at least three of the players are old enough to be my parents (two of them are, one of them is obviously not).

I don't know how to cultivate this respect, but I hope that it can develop more, or I might not want to play anymore. Like I didn't want to judge. It's about respect.

Well, back to work, I've got class in forty minutes.

Teamwork and Stupid People

2005-08-29T23:29:00.000-06:00

Ah, another two-topic post. Well, I guess that's because I didn't want to post before the game, so I had to post afterwards.

So, my first topic is actually stupid people, rather then teamwork. Today, at work, just before I got off, my coworker, who was there to relieve me, commented about some people who were sitting on top of the propane tank cage, smoking. Now, this is tree stupid things. First, they were smoking, which is deadly in and of itself, although it's a slow and expensive killer. Secondly, they were smoking around propane, which creates a very fast and painful death. Thirdly, they were doing it in such a place that it would harm me if the shit had hit the fan. That's a very bad thing, because, well, I like being alive, and unharmed.

So, enough of the stupid people (well, those stupid people), and on to teamwork, on in the instance of tonight's game, the lack thereof.

So, we finally arrived in the big town, and while inspecting our new place of residence, two of the PCs discover a giant cask in the basement, though, what they actually discovered was the passageway behind the giant cask. So, beyond the door is an iron portcullis, a trapped one at that. So, they try to open it, up, down, sideways, and finally, they try to disarm the trap, by setting it off. Very stupid, but that's not the point. The person didn't ask for advice, they just did what they wanted to, and didn't care one way or another.

So, after that, and an encounter with a hippogriff, another stupid person episode, we finally get out on the road, and about 12 miles from our destination (and 6 miles from the previous town), we find a wagon broken down on the side of the road. Two people go over to investigate, and discover the bloated bodies of a family of four, covered in pox scars. So, my character, takes a wide track upon hearing this information, and after a bit of an argument with another PC/Player about the potential of the "driver" being either one of the four dead or a fifth, unknown, person, we then begin to dispute if they might have come from the town we were headed towards.

I'm thinking, hey, they died twelve miles out of town, but only because the wagon broke, which meant that it was a fast death once it hit. Why? Because they were strong enough to leave the town, and get twelve miles, but not strong enough to walk the next six to the larger town. Fast and hard, that's what I think. Now, the other PC/Player insists that they might have travelled through the town, and that their driver might have gone off into the surrounding fields, even though the tracks do not suggest this theory. It's like he wants to argue with me.

Okay, so, diseased wagon, two potentially diseased teammates, and a potentially diseased town ahead of us. So, my character did what I thought was the wisest thing to do, I turned around, and rode as fast as the horse would take me towards the previous town, six miles back. Now, no-one else wants to come. Why? I don't know. So, I ride into town, and talk with the priest there, get information, and after a bit of diplomacy, get a single potion of Remove Disease, just in case.

Now, I then ride back to the group, who have since gone from two camps, exposed and non-exposed, to a single camp. So, my character stays a hundred feet away. And another PC/player, trying to get my goat, tries to come over. My character, being the paranoid person she is, threatens him if he does not stay away. She wanted to be alone, and he would not respect hat. So, after a safe night, it happens again the next day, and I threaten again, and he stays away. So, my character is always a hundred feet away, until, finally, we encounter battle, and the paranoia she feels about the disease is overcome by the camaraderie of the team, and she joins the battle.

So, yes, I split the team, and didn't work as part of said team, but that's because I tried to play the smart person and stayed away from the disease. These people died quickly from a disease, and she didn't want to die quickly as well.

But, it's only a game.

First Week

2005-08-26T10:16:00.000-06:00

Well, I've finished me first week of classes, and, well, it's not exactly what I expected.

I'm sort of on the fence about my Interpersonal Communication professor. She's talented, really talented, and very experienced. That's without dispute. It's her personality that I have a problem with. She has an ego, though she has a right to it with her credentials, but it's still aggravating. I guess it'll be fine though, as I respect her enough for her ego not to bother me too much.

Then, there's my History professor. He's very difficult to read. We talked about Columbo (the proper name of Columbus), and he wouldn't allow me to play Devil's Advocate, but he did allow me to present a lark of an answer, which he then integrated into the lesson, wherein he played Devil's Advocate for all the Hero vs. Villain arguments we had come up with. So, in addition to learning more about the history of the various "discoverers" of North America (Lief Ericson in ~1000 AD, Zheng He in ~1432 AD, and Columbo in ~1492 AD), I learned about how some people, when faced with hardships, desire a scapegoat, and what better figure then someone who's dead and has a national holiday?

Plus, there's my math class, which is getting rather fun, though it's still fairly easy, since homework is now worth much more then last semester, I'm actually going to be doing some of it.

And I'm out of here.

First Day of School (Part 17)

2005-08-23T12:49:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, today's my first day of classes, for my seventeenth time (starting with kindergarden). Starting off with Interpersonal Communication (which I'm currently sitting in). Then, after that's U.S. History, then a break (for food and a call to AppleCare), and then Integrated Mathematics.

Well, class is about to start, so, I've got to go.

Online Classes and Playing A Role

2005-08-22T22:31:00.000-06:00

Okay, today's third post, unlike the first two, is not about my iPod, and, it has two subjects. Wow, two subjects, well, almost three, but this is just an intro, so it doesn't count.

Okay, the first subject is about Online Classes. I just realized why online classes are, well, different. Not only do I need to get a different book (the one I bought cheap was for the RRCC class, not the CCCOnline class), but I also need to purchase a lab kit, and a microscope. The book is on the order of $132 plus shipping, and the lab kit (with microscope) is going to be about $240 plus shipping. So, that's an additional $372 plus two shipping charges for a class I had to pay extra to get in to. But hey, at least it doesn't fuck with my work schedule. Oh, and I still have to at least look into buying the books for my two other classes. Though, i've got two different US History Books, and Interpersonal Communication should be easy enough.

Next, is my second topic, a bit more out there. It's about me trying to play a character different from myself. It gets boring playing the shy, cautious, non-tactically minded, nerd, so, i decided to go with a complete opposite with my character for my Home Game. Instead, I'm playing a female, outgoing, courageous, tactican. Unfortunately, it's too far away from me, and I seem to be having a problem. Plus, get this, the other players, instead of offering suggestions, they go and chide me, and be rude. Heck, tonight alone I had to fight like five times of throwing an outburst because of how rude the other players were. They rib me about playing a girl. Well, sorry, but I rolled randomly, and it came up female. They tease me about playing a former military character. Well, how the frell else am I supposed to have a backstory for a Marshal? It's a military class, and just because I don't have the personal military experience to play the character, unlike at least three of the other players, they tease me about it. Plus, they want me to play the diplomat, but when I need to be one, they don't let me talk and think. They're always (or seemingly so) wanting a quick reaction, well, i can't give them one. there's a reason a full-round diplomacy takes a -10 penalty, you need time to come up with the right words.

Okay, so, i was a little wordy, but, hey, it helped.

AppleCare

2005-08-22T17:19:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, following last night's fun with the iPod, I called AppleCare this afternoon, after work. I called with two things in mind. First, I needed to transfer my APP (AppleCare Protection Plan) from my previous iPod (number 4), to my current iPod (number 5).

This took me quite some time, because, well, I couldn't find the phone number. I looked all through their website, and couldn't find it. Oh, I'm sure it's there, I just couldn't find it! So, I googled it, and found it.

For those that care, it's 1-800-APL-CARE (or 1-800-275-2273).

So, I call them up, and once I get into the right queue (love that word), I'm on hold for like five minutes. Then, I get the Customer Service Representative to hook me up. It works, and within another five to ten minutes, my current iPod is under my APP. Then I ask about the problem I'm having, and she transfers me over to Tech Support.

So, after another five minutes of hold, this time with much better music (and my phone nearly crapping out midway due to lack of power), I get on the phone with a Tech. After giving my name and serial number (the iPod's not mine), she asks me what the problem is. I describe it, and just to make sure, I try to replicate the problem.

but, lo and behold, it works. So, I'm like "Um, well, it wasn't working, but now it is". So, I try and check everything out to make sure, but the USB Dock Connector doesn't work. That should have been a sign, but I didn't take it. So I rushed over and grabbed my Firewire Dock Connector from my HTS, and just as I'm about to make it all work, my phone finally craps out, and I'm without Tech Support.

Then, it goes and does it all again, and I'm without iPod.

Again.

I guess I'll tackle it on my way to school tomorrow, seeing as I'm leaving early so that I can give my Mom extra Alone Time.

Well, off to the game. (I might post about that aftewards).

Stupid iPod

2005-08-22T06:52:00.000-06:00

Argh!

Well, it finally happened, my fifth iPod died on me last night.

Now, some people who read this blog (you know who you are), might be thinking Fifth? But Nobodez, I though this was your second iPod?

Well, it goes like this. I received my first ipod (a 5GB, scroll wheel model), in February of 2002. Later that year, I believe it was September, that one died, and so I received a second, replacement, ipod from Apple. Then, in January of 2003, right before the one year warranty ran out, the second one died, and I received my third iPod.

That one died about a year later, though it limped on for about another year before, on Christmas of 2004, I received a 40 GB iPod (Click Wheel goodness) from my loving parents. All was fine and dandy, but not three or four months in, it went and died, and I received my fifth iPod in the mail (well, actually it was DHL) from Apple.

Now, yesterday, my iPod went and deleted all it's music and had to be restored. And, while I was recopying the songs, the hard drive went out, which meant that it was dead.

Dee Ee Dee, Dead.

Well, I'll call AppleCare this afternoon and get them to send a box for me to send Galatea (the name of iPod 5) to them so that I can get my sixth iPod.

For the record, I don't remember what iPods 1 and 2 were named, but 3 was named Alexandrina, after my iBook (though it was named in January of 2004, rather then 2003 when I received it from Apple), and number 4 was named Yoriko, after an Iconic Character in d20 Modern. Galatea is named after the Master of Many Forms Iconic in Complete Adventurer.

Well, off to work with me.

Contrary Brin

2005-08-16T23:57:00.000-06:00

Wow, here's another great blog, though this one had both a more famous author (unless Holly Q is a nom de plume of someone really famous), and a much more, well, political slant.

I'm a fan of Mr. Brin, who's written quite a few books that I've admired, though like most books, a devoured what ones I read.

Also, it seems that I've doubled my readership (from one, myself, to two). that'll really up my AdSense revenue.

Well, here's to blogs and other fun shit.

Holly Q

2005-08-16T22:06:00.000-06:00

Holly Q's Blog

Wow, this is a great blog. I found it while randomly hitting the "Next Blog" button up at the top of the page. She's not one of the stupid people. Instead, compared to her, I am one of the stupid people. She's insightful, funny, informative, reverent, irreverent, and did I mention insightful?

Yes, well, whatever. A very good blog.

I recommend you read it.

Oh, and press that "Next Blog" button every once in a while. You might just learn something.

Stupid People part 1

2005-08-14T23:39:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, I'm now going to talk about stupid people, but since I know I'll never get all of the examples of stupid people the first go around, this is part one.

Okay, so, I work in a Photo Lab at a Walgreens, and well, I encounter a lot of stupid people every day.

First off, there's the people that ask for their photos, and don't, at first, say their name, or present their claim ticket, or whatever. So, the first type of stupidity is people who assume I know who thye are to pick up their photos.

Secondly, there's the people who can't work the frelling touch screen computer. It's not that difficult, all they have to do is pay attention to what the screen says. So, they ask me how to do things, and then, they ask me the same frelling thing like a minute later.

Argh, okay, it's getting late, I guess I'll do more stupid people stuff later.

Podcasts

2005-08-11T22:40:00.000-06:00

Hey, just thought I'd get one more post in tonight.

Well, as per the subject line, this post is about, well, Podcasts, mainly the ones I listen to.

Let's see, from my iTunes Podcast section, the first is Ancestor, but since that's just a placeholder for the soon to come Podiobook, see the link off to the side.

Diggnation, both the audio podcast, and the video podcast. A good one, very funny, and I like the beer reviews. You should find the link off to the side.

Then, there's Dragon's Landing, it's a gaming podcast. Fairly decent, though you might want to read the bit I previously posted about Message Boards.

Then, there's Earthcore. fi you haven't at least checked this out, please, do so. It's in the links to the side.

Next is the Mugglecast, but I've just started that one, so I'm not yet one way or the other.

Skepticality, another great one. Just starting in this one. Very good, very funny, very informative.

Next, there's Systm, which is a videocast, very interesting. I highly recommend it. Stars former TSS people, like Diggnation. I liked TSS. Damn G4!

Next, is TheForce.net, nice podcast, though I'm not a big, huge, Star Wars fan.

Finally, there's tWiT, aka This WEEK in TECH. Great, funny, but I sometime miss it when it comes out. Meh, I catch up eventually. Really, I do.

Well, that's all folks.

Working with Idiots

2005-08-11T09:01:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, last night, I realized that I'm either way too smart to be working at Walgreens, or this is just god's way of telling me that I need to be more tolerant of people who have different priorities on what's important.

For one thing, one of the women I work with, Vanessa (who is rather hot, but under 18), didn't know what a stereotype was, or more specifically, she didn't know that stereotype was the proper term for what a stereotype was.

At first, this didn't phase me, since it really wasn't important.

But, then I used the word anachronistic, and that went over both her head, and that of another of my coworkers, Matt. So, now both of them are looking at me funny. So, instead of trying to define anachronistic to the pair, I decided, to just frell it all and actually go home, since it was after work and I wasn't getting paid to be there in the first place.

Once again, I hate stupid people.

Stupid College

2005-08-10T13:44:00.000-06:00

Yeah, it's another post nobody will read.

But hey, it fells good.

Okay, Stupid College, let me count the ways.

Ten days ago, ten, I paid off the college, all two hundred and fifty-something dollars. Then, I'm like, well, I paid, they'll remove my hold, and I can register. But, no go.

So, I wait for the next day. Still held.

Well, maybe they needed a weekend, yeah that's it, a weekend.

Nope, okay, um, well, I'll call them, that'll do it.

Well, it did, after three days, five messages, and two three departments. So, now I'm registered. Not exactly the classes I wanted, but that's because they dropped one, which sucks.

So, tuesday and thursday afternoons, friday evenings, and saturday mornings. A bit more expensive then I had planned (now it's ten bucks a month, rather then five, so I might want to invest in the pass, maybe.

But, now I'm waiting to see if the delayed billing will kick in.

Here's the bureaucracy.

EarthCore

2005-08-10T00:00:00.000-06:00

Okay, yes, this make four posts in less then 12 hours, so sue me.

I just finished listening to Scott Sigler's EarthCore, and I can't help but recommend it. Hence it's inclusion in my links off to the side.

Now, I touched on this over in my comments to the post about the final chapter over there (see link), but, well, I think this would make one killer of a module. And yes, that's an emphasis on KILLER.

It would work good as a d20 Modern or maybe a Spycraft module. Heck, it'd work great as a CoC adventure. Think of what would have happened if Connel and Angus had lost a lot of SAN on the way down. Oh wait, they did. Se what happened to Mac.

Okay, so, I'm a bit of a fanboy, but hey, that's what I am.

Nobodez the Fanboy, out.

Message Boards!

2005-08-09T22:18:00.000-06:00

Okay, tonight got me thinking about message boards, and about how much I both loathe and love them.

One the one hand, I loathe them because there are a lot of stupid people out there, and I seem to react badly with stupid people. (Which reminds me, I need to do an entry about how much I hate stupid people). Digression, again. Okay, I hate them because when I see a stupid post, or a post with incorrect information, I want to post immediately with a response, but I don't want to be called a flamer, so I tone down my message, and eventually decide not to post, since my message has been lost anyway.

Take Dragon's Landing for instance (it's in the link below). There, I posted a question a few weeks ago, about if the guys doing the podcast did any RPGA stuff like Living Greyhawk. They take the question, and then go, on their podcast, about how the RPGA is all about competition and stuff like that. It was, at one time, but it's changed, and they didn't do any research when they answered, which made me mad, because now people are getting a bad impression of the RPGA from their podcast!

Okay, I think that's out of my system now.

Now, on to the love part. I love message boards. Why? Because, they allow me to meet (metaphorically of course) lots of new and interesting people. I get to see lots of new opinions, and for a guy like myself, who has generally easily changed opinions, it's good, because I get to see things from new perspectives.

Plus, I get to be a fanboy. I like being a fanboy. Macs, Gaming, D&D, Living Greyhawk, d20 Modern, d20 Past (apparently a lot of people who bought it wished they hadn't, or at least, it's a vocal minority), and lots of other shit. Free Speech, Guns (another topic for later), and other stuff.

Wait, that's two et ceteras in one paragraph.

Eh?

Well, that's all for now. Let's hope somebody'll actually read this!

A Thought

2005-08-09T15:58:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, since this is my second post, and in, like ten minutes of the first post, I think I'm doing pretty well.

Not.

Now, a little about myself.

I'm sure at least one person is stumbling across this blog and thinking, who is this nobodez guy? At least, I hope you assume I'm a guy, and not a girl, not that that's a bad thing mind you, okay, must stop digging.

Okay, who am I?

I had to do a speech on that one time, but I digress.

Many years ago, back in my freshman year of high school, cable internet was just coming into town, and my parents, God bless them, were contemplating getting it. So, since I really didn't want my new e-mail address to be like my last one, over at yahoo, I though, well, I should come up with a really cool name.

So, with that in mind, and the knowledge that my e-mail would be "user@home.com", I thought, well, what would be cool, funny, and unique that would work with "@home.com".

Well, as is often the case, it just come to me, a saying, "the lights are on, but nobody's home". So, that became my catalyst. But I couldn't just be "nobodys@home.com", it still had to be unique, so, with a twist of Hooked on Phonics inspired genius, "nobodys" became "nobodez" and the rest, as they say, is history.

So, now you know.

First Post

2005-08-09T15:43:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, this is my first post on my blog. Sure, it's not much, buy hey, I wanted to post a comment over at Scott Sigler's Earthcore, but I had to have a Blogger account to do so.

So, here it is, my blog.

Welcome to the 21st century.