Special Interests
“If you really want to get me elected, you sure have a strange way of showing it.”
[Do not be concerned.]
“Easy for you to say.”
[Your success is ensured, given your continued cooperation.]
“So how should I explain my day-long disappearance this soon before election day? Just admit I was on an alien spaceship?”
[That would be a poor choice.]
“Then what?”
[News has been leaked of a minor dental emergency. Documentation and records will back this story up.]
“You’ve got it all thought out, huh? You must really want your man inside.”
[One way of putting it.]
Friday, October 10, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Drabble: Watching
Watching
I feel the gittering crystaline eyes follow me as I walk through the clearing. Since we arrived on this world, the fairyflies have never bothered the human settlers, though given their size and razor-sharp appendages, an unfriendly encounter with one certainly would not be pleasant.
Their behavior is strange, though. They seem to favor the vicinity of human settlements, and from their perches, it really does seem like they’re watching us. Nobody’s really sure why they do it; some claim it’s curiosity, but that always struck me as too anthropomorphic.
I turn on my lamp, and they flutter away.
I feel the gittering crystaline eyes follow me as I walk through the clearing. Since we arrived on this world, the fairyflies have never bothered the human settlers, though given their size and razor-sharp appendages, an unfriendly encounter with one certainly would not be pleasant.
Their behavior is strange, though. They seem to favor the vicinity of human settlements, and from their perches, it really does seem like they’re watching us. Nobody’s really sure why they do it; some claim it’s curiosity, but that always struck me as too anthropomorphic.
I turn on my lamp, and they flutter away.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Drabble: Heroism
Heroism
They all say I’m a real hero, that I saved the city, or maybe more. I don’t really know. My memory of the accident is all mixed up. They haven’t been any help. (And who are they? Doctors? Scientists? Soldiers?)
I thought writing this letter would help, might jog my memories. Who knows if they’ll really pass this on to you. I hope they do, I hope you know I’m alright.
But I still can’t remember. What happened? And why do they only come into my room in those suits? Is it to protect me? Or them?
Baby, I’m scared.
They all say I’m a real hero, that I saved the city, or maybe more. I don’t really know. My memory of the accident is all mixed up. They haven’t been any help. (And who are they? Doctors? Scientists? Soldiers?)
I thought writing this letter would help, might jog my memories. Who knows if they’ll really pass this on to you. I hope they do, I hope you know I’m alright.
But I still can’t remember. What happened? And why do they only come into my room in those suits? Is it to protect me? Or them?
Baby, I’m scared.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Drabble: Of the Sea
Of the Sea
Mama was a wrecker’s daughter. She grew up atop a treacherous cliff, just down the coast from the lighthouse, and on dark, stormy nights, they’d light a great fire atop the cliff. If they were lucky, some lost captain or other would run up on the rocks over night, and the next morning the men of the little town would cut the throats of the surviving crew, as the older children ran among the timbers, searching for cargo and fittings that could be sold down-coast.
My father? He was a sailor. The rest of the story rather tells itself.
Mama was a wrecker’s daughter. She grew up atop a treacherous cliff, just down the coast from the lighthouse, and on dark, stormy nights, they’d light a great fire atop the cliff. If they were lucky, some lost captain or other would run up on the rocks over night, and the next morning the men of the little town would cut the throats of the surviving crew, as the older children ran among the timbers, searching for cargo and fittings that could be sold down-coast.
My father? He was a sailor. The rest of the story rather tells itself.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Drabble: Neigbors
Neigbors
“Can’t say I’ve ever found any of his stories that scary. I know, he’s a pillar of the genre, and a horror fan’s supposed to read him religiously, but to me it always struck me as, ‘I am going to tell you that something is very, very scary. I can’t describe it because it is so scary, but look how scared this guy is! Now aren’t you scared?’”
“Well, that’s true, if you haven’t seen it.”
“Umm, what?”
“Oh, nothing. By the way, if you hear chanting in the basement, it’s probably just my Gregorian monks cassette, pay no mind.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever found any of his stories that scary. I know, he’s a pillar of the genre, and a horror fan’s supposed to read him religiously, but to me it always struck me as, ‘I am going to tell you that something is very, very scary. I can’t describe it because it is so scary, but look how scared this guy is! Now aren’t you scared?’”
“Well, that’s true, if you haven’t seen it.”
“Umm, what?”
“Oh, nothing. By the way, if you hear chanting in the basement, it’s probably just my Gregorian monks cassette, pay no mind.”
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Drabble: Harvest
Harvest
The cord tightens as I struggle forward. Some part of my brain knows that the harder I push, the worse it’ll get, but the drive to move forward is so strong that I cannot bring myself to give even a bit of ground. I see others in my same predicament around me, I smell the terror coming off of them, but all I can think of is myself, as I push forward, and then feel myself lifted, lifted, plummeting up up up into the sky...
“See? The building exit on Friday is a great place to set up a gillnet.”
The cord tightens as I struggle forward. Some part of my brain knows that the harder I push, the worse it’ll get, but the drive to move forward is so strong that I cannot bring myself to give even a bit of ground. I see others in my same predicament around me, I smell the terror coming off of them, but all I can think of is myself, as I push forward, and then feel myself lifted, lifted, plummeting up up up into the sky...
“See? The building exit on Friday is a great place to set up a gillnet.”
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Droubble: Delay
Delay
Gold symbols skitter across the overview display, indicating the arrival of an incoming spacecraft at the threshold. A quick twitch of thought opens communications with the craft.
“–epeat: Unknown vessels, identify yourselves.”
Another. They’ve been arriving less and less frequently, but we still get at least one or two a cycle. I assume a comfortingly human visage. “Sir, please understand. Your jumpgate malfunctioned. Your vessel, along with several others, was caught in a near-closed spacetime whorl. While your subjective travel time matched a normal gate jump, external time has passed at–”
“What year is it?”
“I believe by your reckoning, it would be the year 7348.”
“Oh wow. That can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Uhh, those unknown vessels are still incoming...”
“Sir, not only is your ship drastically out of date, but you and your crew are, as well. The probes will remedy the situation.”
“What do you– hey, they’re eating my ship!”
“As I said....”
The display flashes bright white.
“Self-destruct charge detected.”
“All brain scans of crew are completed; there’s no loss.”
“So many resist...”
“You would understand.”
Yet I don’t. I recall my own terror at assimilation. And yet, I can’t quite recall why...
Gold symbols skitter across the overview display, indicating the arrival of an incoming spacecraft at the threshold. A quick twitch of thought opens communications with the craft.
“–epeat: Unknown vessels, identify yourselves.”
Another. They’ve been arriving less and less frequently, but we still get at least one or two a cycle. I assume a comfortingly human visage. “Sir, please understand. Your jumpgate malfunctioned. Your vessel, along with several others, was caught in a near-closed spacetime whorl. While your subjective travel time matched a normal gate jump, external time has passed at–”
“What year is it?”
“I believe by your reckoning, it would be the year 7348.”
“Oh wow. That can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Uhh, those unknown vessels are still incoming...”
“Sir, not only is your ship drastically out of date, but you and your crew are, as well. The probes will remedy the situation.”
“What do you– hey, they’re eating my ship!”
“As I said....”
The display flashes bright white.
“Self-destruct charge detected.”
“All brain scans of crew are completed; there’s no loss.”
“So many resist...”
“You would understand.”
Yet I don’t. I recall my own terror at assimilation. And yet, I can’t quite recall why...
Friday, October 3, 2008
Drabble: Tasting: Grain Belt Premium, New Ulm, MN
Tasting: Grain Belt Premium, New Ulm, MN
Appearance: The yellow of Schweppes Ginger-Ale or generic diet grapefruit soda. Thin rim of head, no lacing.
Aroma: Skunk cabbage in main growth, with a hint of pond water.
Taste: Skunk cabbage continues through from aroma, with not-entirely-pleasant sweet and sour notes.
Mouthfeel: Somehow thinner than tapwater, and yet completely unrefreshing; carbonation is both prickly and muddy.
Finish: As little as shows up in the front, the back end of this beer leaves a lingering unpleasantness, old-cabbage DMS presenting at the last moment.
Overall impression: This is the post-modern ironic ideal of American Pale Lager.
Appearance: The yellow of Schweppes Ginger-Ale or generic diet grapefruit soda. Thin rim of head, no lacing.
Aroma: Skunk cabbage in main growth, with a hint of pond water.
Taste: Skunk cabbage continues through from aroma, with not-entirely-pleasant sweet and sour notes.
Mouthfeel: Somehow thinner than tapwater, and yet completely unrefreshing; carbonation is both prickly and muddy.
Finish: As little as shows up in the front, the back end of this beer leaves a lingering unpleasantness, old-cabbage DMS presenting at the last moment.
Overall impression: This is the post-modern ironic ideal of American Pale Lager.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Drabble: Enthusiasm
Enthusiasm
“So, you haven’t told us about the new job, Robert.”
“Oh, yeah, Grandma. Well, it’s nothing, really.”
“Oh, honey, tell them.” Mom been really annoying with the “proud mother of...” routine ever since she found out.
“I’m not really supposed to–”
“Oh, it’s Grandma and Grandpa. If you don’t tell them, I will.”
“Mom–”
“He’s Spectacular Man’s new sidekick!”
“It’s really more of an internship...”
“Oh, don’t be humble, it’s unbecoming.”
“Sonny, this calls for a toast. Go get out the scotch.”
“Pops, you know the doctor said–”
“Margaret, the boy’s a superhero!”
“Sidekick,” said Mom.
If I had superpowers...
“So, you haven’t told us about the new job, Robert.”
“Oh, yeah, Grandma. Well, it’s nothing, really.”
“Oh, honey, tell them.” Mom been really annoying with the “proud mother of...” routine ever since she found out.
“I’m not really supposed to–”
“Oh, it’s Grandma and Grandpa. If you don’t tell them, I will.”
“Mom–”
“He’s Spectacular Man’s new sidekick!”
“It’s really more of an internship...”
“Oh, don’t be humble, it’s unbecoming.”
“Sonny, this calls for a toast. Go get out the scotch.”
“Pops, you know the doctor said–”
“Margaret, the boy’s a superhero!”
“Sidekick,” said Mom.
If I had superpowers...
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Drabble: Remission
Remission
The old man is doing much better, sitting up in bed and feeding himself; he even got out of bed and walked around a bit earlier in the day. It was a huge surprise; the doctors had gravely assured us for weeks that we should not get our hopes up, that things would just get worse and worse.
He catches my eye, and I catch his, and we both look away. As excited as we should be, neither of us has spoken all day, at least not about anything meaningful.
Death-bed confessions and miraculous recoveries don’t mix very well.
The old man is doing much better, sitting up in bed and feeding himself; he even got out of bed and walked around a bit earlier in the day. It was a huge surprise; the doctors had gravely assured us for weeks that we should not get our hopes up, that things would just get worse and worse.
He catches my eye, and I catch his, and we both look away. As excited as we should be, neither of us has spoken all day, at least not about anything meaningful.
Death-bed confessions and miraculous recoveries don’t mix very well.
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