Probably the Worst Blog Ever Written

i stole icecream out of an icecream truck once and the driver drove away while i was still inside so i was like what the fuck, and i tried to open to back door and the goddamn thing flew open and a bunch of stands crashed all over the road and shit and i jumped out and ran away with my pockets full of icecream
And he kept driving LOL
What an idiot. His teeth were all beat up and decayed to shit as well, as they were quite yellow and foul smelling. Once i tried to exchange a movie certificate for a strawberry shortcake icecream bar and, with some reluctance, he accepted my offer and I consumed the icecream. It was a good day. Normally the damn things were 2$ a piece, which was rediciulous considering you could get a whole box for that amount if they were on sale. They're all bullshitters anyway, b/c their icecream is filled with MSG, perservatives, and probably LSD as well, making it so that you buy one and get addicted for all time. It's a shady business but that's how they keep the economy running, otherwise we might as well move to Ethiopia, and I can assure you that they don't have any icecream trucks there. And if they did, they'd probably sell dirt instead, because dirt is less expensive to produce than icecream. Fuck, it just comes out of the ground anyway, so there's not even a big deal, you could sell dirt cones and nobody would give a shit., Lace that shit with LSD and you've got yourself a successful corporation , and it might even solve the hunger crisis. Did you ever think of that? No, because you're all too busy sitting on your fat asses slamming back the cheetos and coke. Fucking worthless. It's all terrible.

There's a few things i saw today that made me very angry, and one of them was this man who was so bloated in the stomach that he required the assistance of powered chair to facilitate his movement. It was stupid

Story Fragment, Part 2

Here's a piece of fanatasy-type work I wrote sometime ago, I don't remember when... sorry for the formatting.

Earth was some ethereal fantasy. The elderly dreamed about it, speaking of its brilliance and condemning themselves and those around them like a pack of disillusioned preachers. The cold death in their eyes, fading memories recalled the times when their life had meaning.           

               McGrif stared into the grey eyes of his faithful companion, Shir, who was a rare breed of black wolf. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said in a wearisome tone. The animal was staring desperately into McGrif’s green eyes, hoping for a strip of crocodile jerky. Not willing to sadden his travel worn companion, McGrif happily reached into his canvas satchel and retrieved a piece of the delicious jerky. It appeared that they were running low on food of any sort, but he knew that it had been awhile since Shir had eaten, so it was in McGrif’s best interest to make sure that the wolf didn’t get overly hungry.

McGrif held the jerky and slowly motioned it over to Shir. “Going to sit for me, eh?” he said, hoping that Shir had remembered the command. The wolf merely cocked its head and made a curious expression, clearly not comprehending the foreign language with which Mcgrif spoke. “Fine…” McGrif sighed while tossing the piece of meat to Shir, who wagged his tail appreciatively.

            The pair was walking down a cobbled pathway containing many potholes and broken footbridges. McGrif’s leather moccasins had become waterlogged from stepping through streams where bridges had broken, and began to rot, as indicated by their soggy holes which revealed his bare feet. Water blisters and other sores had soon formed on the exposed skin, but they caused little annoyance since McGrif had ingested a batch of bizario leaves, which were quite well known for their pain-reducing properties. At present he gnawed on one of the large green leaves. It tasted quite sweet.

A small, makeshift bench could be seen the distance. It caught McGrif’s attention, so he slowly made his way to it and sat down before sighing comfortably, feeling the tension in his sore legs dissipate as he stretched the aching limbs. The old wooden bench creaked under his weight, even though he was not an exceptionally heavy man. He rested his intricately designed longbow and large leather quiver on the dry earth by his feet. The arrows in the quiver had blue fletching from some rare species of bird, reputed to provide the best accuracy for hunters. However, McGrif wasn’t an ordinary hunter. He cared not about hunting big game in the wilderness or being contracted by meat markets to help supplement ailing food stocks, for such work was boring an arduous. He was a bounty hunter with a distinguished reputation, despite his young age, and he had been tracking one of the fattest, most sinister men in the land for several weeks: Rickentavik Shisk.

McGrif closed his eyes for a moment and thought back a time when things had been simpler. They certainly weren’t anymore. Bounty hunting was very lonely business, and he was prone to experiencing sinking feelings of solitude at any given moment. In the end, all he had were his thoughts, so he fought to ensure that they did not wonder into dark places while he was alone in the wilderness.

The day had been long, and the wearisome hunter had to suppress the urge to fall asleep right then. Judging by the information he’d collected about the obese Rickentavik, McGrif knew that there was still much ground to cover, seeing as the former had the ability to traverse great distances though the use of teleportation spells.

He took a deep breath and raised his head to gaze upward, clearing his mind of the arduous task. He was met by the sight of scattered clouds which appeared as soft as wool in the fading sunlight, and were highlighted by glowing shades magenta.

The picturesque scene caused him to daydream curiously, as if his own thoughts roamed listlessly across the windy skyscape. He then lowered his gaze and surveyed the open landscape which stretched out before him. Scattered formations of sedimentary rock popped up all around the massive marshland, where small ponds surrounded by thick tufts of emerald long grass stuck out like an endless series of aquamarine indentations. Low winds were hinted with the musky fragrance of skunk plants, but the subtle scent of damp earth could also be detected. The few Oak trees in the area rustled almost soundlessly in the low wind. They had leaves of yellow and red, indicating that autumn was fast approaching. It was getting colder now as the breeze carried with it a slight chill, but McGrif had remembered to wear addition sweaters to ensure that nighttime travel was more comfortable. Still, he could feel the slightly howling wind brush against his skin with each gust, causing him to nearly shiver.

He continued to stare at the sun as it set over the western mountainscape, contemplating his next course of action. Already he’d traveled far from his homeland without much confusion or misdirection, but he had met a fork in the road.

There was an old wooden sign between the two paths, but its once red lettering appeared to have worn away long ago, so from here on out he’d know not the name of the land to which he traveled.

            “Well, I guess we’ve got a bit of a dilemma,” he muttered to Shir.

Shir was getting on in age, as indicated by the graying streaks in his ash-colored coat, but he was still quite cunning. He’d been discovered by McGrif while wondering the open grasslands of the Eurathan plains less than several weeks ago, and it had not taken long for them to become trusted companions. The wolf had proved quite capable of being a worthy hunter, but McGrif also kept him around to ward off vagrants, thieves, and whoever else seemed to frequent these dangerous lands. 

             “Well, which way Shir?” he asked confidently, grinning. Shir’s long snout appeared to be pointing to the left, so McGrif decided to head in that direction.

            As he walked along the cobbled path he could hear the nearby patches of long grass whistle in the wind. He wasn’t sure what type of grass produced such a scent, but as he gazed over glow of fading daylight across the horizon, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Shir ran about restlessly, deviating from the pathway to explore all the strange new sights and scents in the surrounding area. Shift scouted out for a place to setup camp, but most of what he could see was soggy marshland.

            By nature Shift was not the most resourceful of individuals, but he did possess a certain knack for survival in the wilderness. He was quite proficient at hunting for one, since his father had trained him well with the use of a bow at a young age. His bow was somewhat worn now, the long shaft notched and slightly cracked with age, but it still worked quite well. The wood of the shaft was slightly grey from exposure to the elements. He missed his father, and was never entirely sure why he had abandoned him. Many years had passed since he’d last seen the old man. He wasn’t even sure if his father was still alive, but in the back of his mind he pictured him out on the open fields, quietly lying in wait as he’d done when McGrif was younger. They’d spend countless hours in those open lands, and he always expected something exciting to happen. It had been then that McGrif’s father had instilled in him the skills of patience and observation, as a hunter was useless without such abilities. Occasionally they would set up camp and his father would tell him stories about his time as a ranger in the local militia, during a time when the villages were susceptible to brutal Northland raids. He’d reveal the scars where he’d been injured, and McGrif could recall how grisly they appeared in the flickering campfire light. He had an undying respect for his father, even though the man had

Even though that was behind him now, it still brought him great sadness to contemplate such memories, because in truth he missed his father, and he knew that, assuming he still lived, his father missed him as well.

            Anyway, as Shift proceeded along the narrow path he was confronted by a peculiar sight. A large man was waddling up to him slowly, and he seemed to be carrying a large cage in his fat right hand. His gut protruded outward like a great cauldron, and his face was covered in a scraggly beard.

            “Oi, you there!” he bellowed in a voice that seemed to shake the earth. “What you staring at? You starin’ at me gut?” Shift glanced down with a slight bit of embarrassment as the man approached, cursing to himself. It was Rickentavik, the well-known thief and conman who often frequented these deserted places, or so he had been told.

            “My name’s Shift,” he said while the fat man came near. Rickentavik glared angrily at him for no apparent reason.

            “Well, what ye want?” said the man of immense girth.

            “Nothing, I’m just passing through you see. That’s all.” Shift made a submissive gesture with his hands and shrugged his shoulders meekly, hoping the man would simply leave him alone.  While the man regarded him suspiciously, Shift glanced over at the cage clutched between his meaty arm. There appeared to be someone inside of it, judging by the small voice he oculd hear.

            “Don’t look at the cage!” exclaimed Rickentavik. His overhanging stomach shook violently as he spoke, as his overstretched cotton shirt hadn’t the width to cover it entirely.

            “I wasn’t” Shift said, trying to make the lie believable. He remembered hearing stories about how Rickentavik would dismember people simply for lying to him, because he was crazy.

            “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t simply kill you as  you stand here mocking me with casual disregard!” he bellowed once more, spitting his words so quickly that Shift had to pause momentarily to comprehend them.      

            “Listen, I’m just on my way to the village down this path, that’s all. I’m alone except for my dog Shir, and we’ve been traveling for a long time. We both need rest, and I’m in no mood for confrontation. I don’t have any ill-will toward you and I simply want to pass by. Nothing more.” As honest as his words sounded, Rickentavik appeared to become more perturbed as his pudgy face became red with rage.

            “Fine! You want to fight we’ll fight!” yelled the man. Shift shook his head despairingly, not wanting to attack the large man. Before Rickentavik had enough time to unsheathe his butcher’s knife, which was coated with dried blood, Shift had reached for his longbow and began to pull back a razor tipped arrow. After taking careful aim he snapped his bow string forward and the projectile sailed precisely into the man’s forehead, except that is not where it ended up. In what seemed like a blur of movement, the bloated body instantly side-stepped the arrow, as it was now standing several feet to the right.

            “Thought it’d be that easy eh? Haha!” he laughed so deeply and sinisterly that Shift shivered and became filled with fear. Now he remembered that Rickentavik was also a trickster of a spellcaster who’d use any trick in the book to ensure his own survival, even if it meant unfairly cheating his way out of battles.

            He then dropped the small cage into the mucky bog water with a splash, and began charging straight for Shift, butcher knife in hand. “You’ll pay for that!” he grumbled, though Shift knew he was drunken and stupid.

            Shift fought to reload another arrow before the man had gotten close enough to do any damage, but despite his apparent fatness he was simply too quick. With a resounding crack, Shift was knocked to the ground as he flew several feet backward. He opened his eyes in a startled daze, realizing that he’d just crushed a good portion of his supplies under the weight he’d fallen with. This caused him to become quite angry, but before he could reach for his longbow to deal another round of punishment he realized that it had been knocked away as well. “Come ere’ now boy, I’ll snap you in two!”

            Shift slowly got to his feet in a slightly dazed state. His wind had been knocked out and he looked as though he’d just gone through a windstorm, but he still would not back down. The man ran at him with a charging motion once more, but this time Shift was prepared for it. He swung the bag of crumpled supplies at Rickentavik’s face in one swift motion before he got too close, and it temporarily caused him to lose direction and control. With a  loud, angry yell Rickentavik went careening into the mushy bog water and fell face-flat into it. He stirred there for a moment as Shift frantically scanned the darkening area for his bow. He would have to finish this now or continue to confront this beast of a man if he were to survive.

            Suddenly, he caught a small glint of brightness. It emanated from the cage that the man had carried just moments ago and it was a faint blue. Shift was transfixed by it momentarily, completely forgetting about his large-gutted opponent entirely. “What is that?” he heard himself mutter vaguely. It continued to grow so bright and strange that Shift had to shield his vision. Then the cage burst open completely. Metal scraps went flying in every direction, causing Shift to leap into the bog water for cover. Apparently whatever had been in there was not to be let out, but it was too late for that now.

            “You imbecile!” screamed Rickentavik, as he struggled to push himself out of the mucky water. “You’ve ruined it! You idiot, do you know how long that took to build?!”

            By this time Shift was trying to right himself and safely escape from the area, but he couldn’t help at be perplexed by the strange blue aura which had now grown slightly fainter and more visible.

            Shir stood at Shift’s side, growling loudly at Rickentavik. Shift was well aware that the dog wanted nothing more than to attack the man, but it would be unsafe considering the weapon and magic the enemy could easily use to incapacitate the animal.

            Rickentavik, with laboured effort, finally rose from the water, looking as though he could barely contain some incredible bloodlust. He didn’t say anything after rising, and he was looking away from Shift and Shir, but the skin on the back of his head had turned a deep shade of violet, and he was clenching his shaking fists quite angrily. He turned around slowly, fire seeming to spout from his beady black eyes. He then stroked his twirled mustache frantically, as though trying to sooth his simmering nerves. He spoke with a booming voice now. “Do you have even the faintest idea what was in that cage, young fool?! You’ve endangered both of our lives now. It’s all your fault!”

            Before Shift could respond, and even before Rickentavik could make another sound or movement, something quite peculiar happened. The air above the fat man seemed to glow a fluorescent purple for an instant before transforming into fluorescent orange, magenta, and back to purple. The man, having finally taken notice of the bizarre colors, glanced up at them, and an expression of primordial fear appeared across his visage. “No…” he muttered, “No! Not now-

            And then he was gone.

            No sound, no movement, nothing. He’d simply vanished into thin air.

            Shift felt an incredible fear rise within his own gut. He wondered if the same plight might befall him, so he started to run up the cobbled path. He did more than run, he sprinted full on, not daring to glance back. What form of dark magic had he unleashed onto the world?

            His full-board sprint was cut short as he came crashing to the ground for no apparent reason. Had he the reaction time, he may have stuck out his palms to break the fall, but his face did instead. He went sliding across the dust path, rolling over several times before stopping. Shir took notice of this and ran over to his master, bowing low to his face as if in concern.

            Shift lie there for a moment before the pain completely set in. He knew that he had cut himself several times, and they would sting like bloody hell in mere moments, but for now he tried to think of absolutely nothing. He wanted his mind to be a white, blank space of inactivity that would feel nothing and imagine nothing, but his mental journey to thoughtlessness was interrupted by a fluorescent purple light above his head.

            “No!” he cried, fearing the same fate as Rickentavik. The light shifted with various colors before returning to purple once more, but this time it did something else. It undulated, shimmered, and finally began to metamorphose into something else entirely. The brightness with which it glowed again caused Shift to block his eyes, but moments later it had diminished to the point that he could see the newly formed shape in front of him.

            It was a body, a human body. But more importantly, it appeared female. Her body continued to glow a faint yellow, but with every passing moment the unnatural brightness diminished. “Who…” Shift heard himself stammer abruptly. “Are you?” The ethereal being did not reply, as it appeared to be still transforming. Her hair seemed to blossom into existence in a flow of dirty blonde, and her eyes appeared as piercing blue spheres.

            With one final flash of light the being then came into full view. Her shimmering velvet dress conformed beautifully to her perfectly proportioned figure, causing Shift’s mouth to gape quite obviously. “I’m Tynea,” she stated softly, her words like silk. “Thank you for aiding me. I’ve been captive for quite some time.” A saddened look crossed her pale, delicate features, but when she looked up at Shift she smiled. The smile virtually paralyzed Shift, who was at a loss for words already.

            Having taken notice of the various cuts on Shift’s arms and face, she approached him slowly. She did not appear to move in a way that bipedal thing would move, but it was more of a glide. He wondered if she had some sort of anti-gravity spell active, though he though such a spell non-existent. “Let me help you, kind traveler,” she said, placing her hand on his right shoulder. Her small, bejeweled fingers rested softly on his bleeding skin, and she began to chant some form of arcane language. Her other hand rose now, and she began to gently move it into bizarre positions while chanting quietly. Then, wth a determined expression, she punched him square in the nose.

            “Hey!” yelled Shift, clasping his nose. He expected blood but there was none, and he expected pain but there wasn’t any. Then, as if his mind had temporarily vacated his skull, the scene before him went out of focus. Blue lights seared across his peripheral vision which made him become dizzy and nauseous as Tynea continued to chant her foreign spell, and her words seemed to become less coherent. She appeared to rise higher and higher and the blue light became more intense, threatening to consume his entire field of vision. Indiscernible, sporadic images raced through his imagination. He tried to call out but the words came out soundless and inarticulate. This extraordinary experience carried on for several minutes before Tynea finally ceased her chant, causing Shift’s vision and eyesight to return unharmed.

 The dazed hunter sat for a moment, staring at her as though she’d just taken his soul. “What form of witch doctor are you?” he demanded suddenly, feeling unusual and perplexed.

            “Your wounds have healed,” she said pointedly, “good day.” She vanished into a plume of dark smoke, leaving Shift to lay there in confusion. Shir stood nearby with his dark ears raised in alert, though he did not appear entirely sure about how to react.

            “Well then,” Shift said calmly, returning to his feet. He brushed off excess dirt and twigs which had clung to his clothing, and examined the places where rips had formed in them. Beneath the torn clothing his skin was completely fine. No cuts, scrapes, or even bruises were noticeable. “Impossible…” Shift whispered to himself. He had never seen such an act of magic performed before. Most of the few that possessed enough cunning to wield magical strength knew only spells which inflicted harm to others, so Tynea’s spellwork seemed most certainly unique.

            While lost in though about the encounter, Shift continued down the cobbled path. He glanced over at the area where Rickentavik had once stood, noticing how the green grass was now darkened by some kind of soot-like substance. Undoubtedly Tynea had not just caused him to vanish, she’d incinerated his fat body into dust. It became clear to Shift that she was far beyond ordinary, for he had never seen such a damaging spell as that either. It was all very strange indeed.

                                                                                 

           

            A couple hours wore on and the azure blanket of night descended. Little swarms of fireflies hovered about in various places, providing some illumination. Shift knew that pretty soon he’d need to rely on Shir’s enhanced vision to guide him along the path, since out in these areas it became so dark that even the fireflies did little to aid human eyesight. 

He glanced over to the dark animal, wondering how hungry he must be. Shir did not seem to have an overly large appetite, but Shift would always give him a generous portion after a successful hunt. Now, however, neither traveler had eaten since morning, so both of their stomachs produced loud growling noises.

 It might have been better if the moon had been out, but so far it appeared that dark, ominous clouds had blotted out the night sky.

Shift did carry with him an old gas lamp, but he soon realized that his kerosene supply had been consumed, causing him to curse. Shortly after, Shift’s spirits sank further as a slight rainfall developed. “Oh, what excellent luck is this!” he said begrudgingly. Shir shot him a glance, as if to show understand his frustration. “At least I have you,” he added, “you’re a good dog.” With that, he reached into his leather pouch and tossed Shir some bacon bits, and in response the dog happily wagged his tail.

Through the mist that had formed from the night rain, Shift could see firelight in the distance. It wasn’t coming from an ordinary campfire, for it was much too small. He signaled to Shir, causing the dog to halt, and they both now peered through the rain to the strange light. It flickered with dull red and faint yellow through the grey mist, and Shift felt compelled to head towards it. “What could it be?” he half whispered to himself and Shir.

            The pair approached cautiously, disregarding the wetness of the marsh through which they slogged. Each footfall produced loud sucking sounds, which became quite an annoyance after a couple minutes. Shir kept close to Shift’s side, preferring to stick to higher ground instead. 

            As they came closer to the light, a dark shape came into view. It was rectangular and stood several feet above Shift in height, like some kind of cottage or large tent. By this time the rain had nearly soaked the hunter, so he was hoping that it was at least some kind of shelter. “Who’s there?” came a voice suddenly. It was soft and feminine sounding. Shift did not reply immediately

            He did not know why he could not say the right things. It was if his mind had erected mental barriers of such magnitude that no logical conversation pass through. 

'Verdammte Quantumspringerei!' (This damn quantum jumping!)

Moore's account of Erwin Schrödinger's life

When it comes to successful theories to explain the behavior of matter, quantum mechanics stands alone. It was developed in the 1920s by Erwin Schrödinger, Werner Heisenberg, Wolfgang Pauli, Paul Dirac, and many others. The practical implication of this theory is that it allows us to understand atoms, molecules, nuclei, and solids. Technologies directly resulting from the development of quantum mechanics include scanning tunnelling microscopes, nanoscale machines, and quantum computers.

In 1926, Schrödinger developed the wave equation. When mathematically explaining a quantum system, one must take the solution related to the behavior of this system and apply certain boundary conditions to it. This tells us the allowed 'wavefunctions' and energy levels in the system. Reworking a wavefunction provides one with all the measurable characteristics of that system.

{Maxwell also used a wave equation to describe electromagnetic radiation (electromagnetic waves). Schrodinger showed us how atoms and molecules can also be expressed in terms of waves (wave function).}

The Schrödinger equation provides the most complete description that can be given to a physical system. It's wavefunction (or state vector) describes possible points in space which are mapped by complex numbers called probability amplitudes. In a nutshell, these amplitudes are the values of wavefunctions. By squaring the absolute value of these complex numbers (|ψ(x)|^2 ), we can determine the probability density (or probability distribution) of momentary states of matter, telling us where things are and how they are interacting. Heisenberg’s matrix mechanics are derived from Schrödinger's wavefunctions.

The actual equation (or a 1-dimensional, time-independent variation of it), given mass m confined to moving along the x-axis and interacting with its environment through a potential energy function u(x), is written:

 Eψ=-(hbar^2/2m)[(d^2ψ)/dx^2:] + Uψ           (hbar^2 = Plank's constant)

Time-dependent Schrödinger equations describe systems evolving with time, whereas time-independent describe stationary states. These equations can take on several different forms, depending on the physical situation. The equation doesn't break the principle of conservation of mechanical energy of a system. In fact, the first term in the above-mentioned Schrödinger equation reduces to the kinetic energy of the particle multiplied by the wave function, indicating that the total energy of a system is K + U = E = constant. Where total energy (E) is the sum of the kinetic energy (K) and the potential energy (U) - and the total energy is constant.

--

Erwin Schrödinger had unconventional relationships with women. His American colleagues at Princeton were offended by the Austrian's 2 wives.

Schrödinger was an only child, and his mom was a chemistry professor. He died of tuberculosis in 1961. Upon realizing how fundamentally unintuitive quantum mechanics is, he is said to have proclaimed 'Verdammte Quantumspringerei!' (This damn quantum jumping!)

Book Review #1 Some Apple Dude

     The most important thing I learned from this book is that no apple ever fell on Newton's head. Instead, it is written that he was 'occasioned by the fall of an apple, as he sat in contemplative mood.' One might say that if a pie graph mapping human achievement were created, there's a good chance that Newton would be given a pretty big slice. From a historical perspective, he is responsible for more than one paradigm shift in our understanding of the world around us, and if you haven't memorized his three laws of motion, then you fail.

      In contrast to the glory of his later discoveries, Newton's early childhood was marked by rejection and hatred. Three months before he was born in 1643, his father died, and his birth was premature. Hannah Ayscough (Newton's mother) claimed that he could fit into a 1.1 L mug, and she did not expect him to live very long. Following that, his mother remarried when he was two years of age, and his stepfather refused to incorporate the child into the new family. Isaac was forced to live with his grandmother, where he developed resentment towards his stepfather. When he was 19, Newton recorded in his list of sins: "Threatening my father and mother Smith to burn them and the house over them."

      During his school years he endured harsh, vindictive attacks from opponents as well as friends and family. In isolation, he would spend hours tinkering with mechanical models and making detailed drawings. His natural curiosity for such things aided in his scientific endeavours later on in life. However, during his early school years, he was considered one of the worst students. According to his teachers, this was due to his inattentiveness.

       Throughout school, he was considered somewhat of a dunce, and was far from achieving academic success, and he was also bullied at times. On the plus side, when Newton was challenged to fight a schoolyard bully (who, compared to Newton, was a 'building with feet'), he actually won. Unfortunately, his capacity to remain spaced-out and idle in his studies caused him to be removed from school in October, 1659, and he was put him to work on the family farm, which he detested very much.

        Newton's uncle William decided that it would be best for him to return to school, and Henry Stokes, the master at the King's School, convinced Hannah to let Newton complete his education. Here, Newton sought revenge against a bully by getting superior grades, and it was not long before he became a top-ranking student. It was here that some flicker of intellectual aptitude began to develop.

        In 1661 he got accepted to Cambridge, where his Uncle William had gone. He joined the school as a subsizer, so he had to basically do janitorial work to cover his tuition. Luckily, he was granted scholar status in 1664, which freed him of financial burdens. But a year later, everything changed. He left school in August 1665 to avoid the Bubonic Plague- a virulent, flea-borne disease which killed about 100,000 people (20% of London's population at the time). Hannah, who was again widowed, allowed Newton to stay with her at this time. The next 18 months were among the most significant in Newton's life. "I was in the prime of my age for invention... and minded Mathematicks and Philosophy more than at any time since" he would say later on in life. It was here that he devoted himself gravitation, mathematics, mechanics, and optics- studies which would eventually allow him to push back nearly every boundary of scientific knowledge.

      Upon returning to school, Newton's newfound interest could not be blocked. He immersed himself in the works of Aristotle, Descartes, Hobbes, Boyle, Copernicus, Galileo, Euclid, and Kepler. Since Galileo's work explained that the earth is not the center of the universe (geocentric model < heliocentric model), astronomy was a very controversial and exciting topic, and it is interesting to note that he died only 4 days after Newton was born.

      And as an afterthought he invented calculus and the theory of gravitation, and wrote the Principia Mathematica. He had a huge feud with Robert Hooke, another English scientist, and refused to publish work that Hooke had helped him with until after Hooke had died. He also had a dispute with German mathematician Gottfried Leibniz with regard to the priority on the invention of calculus. Leibniz wrote to the Royal Society and explained that he had invented calculus first. Unfortunately for him, Newton was the president of the Royal Society. Strangely enough, anonymous letters mocking Leibniz began to appear in Royal Society publications, and Leibniz was left disgraced and impoverished (and in reality Newton had invented calculus first, but waited many years before publishing his work).

      A few years after his prime, Newton was given a comfortable job at the Royal mint, where one of his duties was to prosecute counterfeiters. He performed his job with much enthusiasm, and sent many a counterfeiter to the gallows to be executed. Newton died in March 31, 1727.

     This is Isaac Newton's official coat of arms:

Solar Seas (Short Story Segments),,,, alliteration to the max!

This work contains selected parts of a short story that I wrote while living in Vancouver. I had a lot of fun writing this! The formatting is a bit crunched, sorry for that.

-------------

Ixy Fletcher wanted to wake up, but the soft cotton of her warm sheets overtook her willpower to do so. Emotional traces of a strange dream seemed vague and unrealistic in her half-awake mind, like the residual presence of lost memories. 

After a bit of thought she could mentally visualize the mean looking spacecraft from her dream. It had reflective black thermal pads that were slicked back to resemble a black-hawk helicopter, and it was sitting idle in what seemed to be a hanger. It frightened her, though she’d never seen or heard of ship that looked that wicked. 

She lingered on for several more minutes and thought about it, but the sound of a loose fan whirring in the ventilation ducts fifteen feet above interrupted her train-of-thought. It echoed through the spacious room in a very irritating manner, growing louder. Then, her alarm clock went off with a cacophonous buzz. Startled, she slapped at it off her chrome night-stand and it crashed to the floor, shattering into many plastic parts. It continued to buzz for several seconds before dying, and when it stopped the fan was no longer whirring erroneously. 

“So much for peace and quiet,” she said, laughing. “Good morning,” she then stated; a voice command that caused the dark tint on her wall-sized windows to turn fully transparent within seconds, allowing for bright sunlight to flood through the room like a golden halo of comforting warmth. It swept up the white walls, glided across that shiny varathane finish on her hardwood floor, and gleamed against the reflective plastic of the broken alarm clock. 

She arched her back to stretch stiff muscles, and then rubbed her eyes to better see the planetscape before her; Mars’s rust-choked surface occupied a majority of the multi-windowed view. It seemed to glow like a great burnt orange amidst a sea of black, with ancient terrain that consisted of vast badlands riddled with red iron sand-dunes and impact craters that were miles wide. Massive mountains overshadowed vast canyons, and each pole was capped by a solid dome of white ice. There wasn’t any liquid water on the planet, which gave it a feeling of dead dryness.  

Baseline Station looked like an advanced satellite, but it wasn’t as fancy or cutting-edge as some of the newer research satellites. It was a relic from the early days of manned space exploration and artificial gravity. It was also an antique by now, which explained why it wasn’t in the best condition, although the older models were always more reliable. When in service, it was used as a pit-stop for the pioneers in space technology when they were just starting out. Now, however, it was quite underused. Few stopped through, and only for short periods of time. Ixy Fletcher was the only one that lived in Baseline, her parents owned it but she hadn’t seen them for awhile, quite a long time actually. They often took away missions as part of their research, so she was used to not having them around.

~~~~X~~~~

 Solar Seas

Chapter 1.

Ixy awoke in a daze. The first thing she realized was that her leg throbbed and she didn’t know why, but it was a dull pain. She tried to wade through the thick onset of mental dizziness that came with most mornings, but her mind was groggy, probably fogged up with painkillers and other various medications judging by how she felt. 

Strangely enough, Ixy couldn’t remember where she was, and her limbs felt weak, unused, the muscles barely responsive. How long had she been like this? 

Her first instinct was to get out of bed, get some clothes on, and grab a coffee, but something was definitely wrong. Her confused state couldn’t be explained by a terrible hangover from excessive partying because her head wasn’t pounding in agony and her mouth wasn’t stale with the smelly after-taste of stale alcohol, not to mention that she’d quit drinking months ago. 

The muscles in her chest began to tighten with anxiety as her concern grew, then she opened her eyes and they slowly focused in on immediate surroundings. Fuzzy fluorescent lights blurred into her peripheral vision, putting a bizarre spin on the square room, but she could tell right away that the room wasn’t familiar at all. 

Three flat white walls surrounded her, stretching so far into the darkness above that she couldn’t see the ceiling, but other then that there wasn’t any furniture except the bed. There weren’t any markings on the walls and no nightstand by her bed. 

There wasn’t even a clock or anything, and she couldn’t remember what day it was. She tilted her head up, which took considerable effort; and her neck muscles nearly seized up from the strain. She could see that the walls had small light strips traveling around the room near the baseboards of the grey linoleum floor, but the fourth wall was completely black. 

She stared at the black wall for a moment, noticing that it was glossy like a window, and it reflected the light like it was made of glass or something of equal slickness. Perplexed, she tried to sit up but her body gave out. Her arms collapsed under the strain and she slumped back in the thick warm sheets with a flop. That’s when she became truly afraid. She tried to speak but her voice croaked with dryness and caused her eyes to water as she winced in pain. Her vocal cords just failed to produce legible sound. Where the hell am I, she thought?

                                                            ~~~~X~~~~

            “This sucks!” Rek exclaimed, “Why the hell do we have to drag this shit to the compactors anyway, why don’t we blow it up?” He looked to his sister Tynea for a sign of approval, but she shook her head and gave him a sly smirk. Rek was frustrated because the job didn’t pay that well, considering the amount of time it took.   

           When travel costs were taken into account they barely broke even, but apparently they owed their contractor a favor. “We’ve got the armaments, I bet nobody would notice,” he continued, desperately seeking an easy way out, “it would save us a lot of time!” Tynea looked up at him again, this time with a hint of irritation on her face. 

          The siblings usually got along well enough, but spending a week in close quarters aboard a cramped space hauler would set anyone off. They were both clad in navy blue jumpsuits specialized for deep-space travel, though they were still considered within residential space. Tynea had short black hair with bangs that surrounded her face, and her brother sported a shaggy brown mop of a hairstyle that rarely underwent any sort of care.

            “Listen,” she stated flatly, “the contractor had specific instructions not to demolish it. It’s being recycled into a convenience station or something, so stop complaining like a moron and charge the tractor beams, alright?” 

            “God-damnit,” he scowled, “there’s at least a million other jobs I’d rather be doing, but I get stuck with this crap. Just remember, you owe me one.” She didn’t look back at him, choosing instead to smile nonchalantly and gaze away vaguely. It aggravated him, because he knew she was right, as she usually was. 

            “How about those tractor beams, bud?” she said calmly. He muttered something under his breath and rose from the pilot’s chair, headed to a backlit console on the starboard wall of the small cabin, and typed in some protocol to warm up the beams that would attract the old station that they’d then tow back. 

            “How far are we from mars, anyway? Must be close by now,” he questioned.

            “Don’t worry about it, we’re almost there.”

The interior of Tynea’s ship was neat and functional with smooth glowing display panels and comfortable leather chairs, unlike its filthy exterior. She’d picked up the old rig second-hand from a military auction some years back, for a fair price too. She figured that it’d allow her to open her own hauling business since it was easy work, and it paid above average. After a few months of contracted work she signed up with a small firm that specialized in towing out old satellites, derelict spaceships, and whatever the newly colonized solar system could throw at them. 

Occasionally, they’d get assigned to throw asteroids and comets off course by inversing their strong magnetic tractor beams, which would veer the projectiles off course and away from manmade constructs. It was very dangerous work. Luckily, her brother’s skill in piloting made the work simple, and he was compensated for his efforts, but he was very stubborn and didn’t like junk work. He had dreams of making it in the interplanetary racing circuit, an organization that catered to speed-freaks and gear-heads with nothing to lose. Naturally, he’d never stopped talking about it. All he cared about was speed and excitement, and piloting an old bloated junker was his last idea of fun, but at least it paid the bills. Though often with reluctance, he’d often help his sister out whenever she needed it. She’d saved his life numerous times, after all.

            “So what’s the name of the place anyway?” Rek asked in a subdued tone. Tynea paused for a second, trying to recall the name. Failing that, she picked up a yellow clipboard with their job specifics and read it over.

            “Says here that it’s called Baseline Station, an old experimental medical center, and it went out of biz decades of go. It’s just been floating in sub-orbital around mars since then. Hmm…” she stopped talking for a second to read further. “Now normally they’ll tell me to be careful with fragile equipment, but the way they state this makes me think that something really important is in there.”

            “How so?”

            “Well,” she began to read from the criteria section; ‘Under no circumstance should the employee enter or disturb the station in any way before or after transportation. Utmost care must be implemented to ensure that the station arrives undisturbed at all costs. Failure to do so will result in immediate termination.’  

            “So, I guess it would be a bad idea to blow it up then?” Rek admitted. They both laughed.

            “I wonder why could be on there…. I’ve never gotten instructions like that before,” Tynea added.

            “Well it was a medical station, right? Maybe there’s some valuable equipment of some kind still there, even if it’s outdated,” Rek said.

            “I guess. Still, the whole thing strikes me as weird,” she said curiously, “but let’s not worry ourselves too much about it. If they’re this serious we better get there on schedule or it’ll be my ass in the frying pan.”

                                                            ~~~~X~~~~

            Ixy fought to move her limp arm to her face to wipe away sleep crust that had accumulated in her eyelids. Instead, the unresponsive limb came flailing up in an uncontrolled way, smacking her in the forehead. The smack left a noticeable red mark on her face, and she cringed as it stung with pain. She was fully alert now, with clear vision and a heightened awareness, but still clueless as to where she was. Suddenly, she heard a whirring sound that was accompanied by machine-like movements. It was emanating from an unseen source within the darkness above. She froze for a moment as the sound grew louder, then she pretended to be asleep. Through barely open eyes, she could see the body of a small hovering medical droid descend through a pipe up in the ceiling, its glowing blue LEDs illuminated some of the darkness above. She could recognize the unit, seeing as it was a standard issue that most hospitals had. She opened her eyes and tried to speak to it, but her voice was so hoarse and dry that even as she tried to call to the droid all that came out was a barely audible squeak. The floating machine approached her curiously as it extended its gleaming metallic arms. The delicate arms revealed an array of medical instrumentation in the form of needles, sharp scalpels, and other things that she hadn’t the faintest idea of.

            “Please hold still,” it instructed with an eerie synthesized male voice. Then, the unit floated right next to her leg, removed the sheet effortlessly, and began injecting some translucent fluid onto her thigh. It was then that she tilted her head up to examine the wound; a vicious looking gash that was nearly the length of her femur. Concern would have paralyzed her then had the drugs not taken effect immediately, courtesy of the droids fluid application. The world around her grew fuzzy and warm, she felt no pain.

            “Please continue your rest cycle for several more hours before returning to normal activity,” the droid buzzed.

            “Okay,” she said softly, her voice had returned. Not only that, her muscles became filled with activity and renewed strength. Whatever the robot had given her had completely restored her motor functions in addition to doping her senses. “Where am I?” she asked quickly. The droid turned back to her before leaving, its spherical body was the size of a bowling ball, and hovered about five feet off the ground.

            “Baseline station, medical wing,” it responded, and then quickly ascended into the dark pipelines above before she could ask more questions. Baseline, she thought, where is that? As her mind raced to make a connection, more strange noises began. It started with a low metallic grating sound, like gears moving an object of considerable weight. She looked up and noticed that the black wall in front of her began receding, slowly revealing a Martian landscape. Red light blinded her momentarily as it flooded through the room. It seemed impossibly bright, and her eyes took awhile to adjust, but they did, and she gasped at the sight.

“Mars!” she exclaimed to herself. She shook her head in disbelief, this wasn’t right. As she stood in amazement, memories began flooding through her head. The last thing she could remember was being on board an average transport vessel en route to a popular transfer hub outside of Elliptical Six, a major population center located in earth’s inner quadrant. But now, Mars’s rust-choked surface occupied at least two thirds of her view, like a great burnt orange. It consisted of vast badlands riddled with red iron sand-dunes and impact craters that stretched on for miles. Its massive mountains overshadowed canyons in the reflected sunlight, and each pole was capped by solid domes of white ice, though the planet was dead, dry, and had no liquid water. But, it was beautiful nonetheless. It seemed completely different from the glowing green landmasses and cotton-white clouds that mingled between shimmering bodies of dark blue water on earth, but the mysteriousness of being near something so unknown was profound. Without further delay, she rose from the bed and felt the cold floor against her feet. She stood up and walked slowly around the room, all the while staring at the view as if transfixed by it. Still shaking her head in disbelief, she approached one of the walls and touched it, causing a rectangular entryway to open soundlessly. She knew that touching the wall would open the door, but couldn’t remember why. The station was now becoming more familiar, as if she’d lived there before. This frightened her, and she began to question the integrity of her long term memory. She proceeded through the entryway and down a bland hallway and noticed the ropelike wires that were suspended near the low ceiling above her head. For the first time, she looked down at herself and noticed that she was wearing something similar to a blue medical gown, though it didn’t provide much warmth. While walking cautiously forward, the medical droid suddenly crossed her path.

“Hello Ixy,” it stated, “are you well?” Dumbfounded, she stood there soundlessly until thinking of a question to ask.

“How do you know my name?” she asked. The robot calculated a response and looked at her, as if to be confused as to why its patient was concerned with something to trivial.

“I’ve been assigned to aid in your recuperation, such information is required,” it said flatly.

“Recuperation, how long have I been here?”

“27 years,” it said.

“What?!?” she blurted, looking at the small machine in utter disbelief. The next few words she attempted to articulate came out as fragmented sounds with little coherence. The droid merely orbited in midair, completely unaware.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Fletcher?” it asked casually. She started shaking as memories of her family surfaced in the forefront of her imagination, were they even still alive? She began to cry. Noticing the discomfort its patient was experiencing, the droid hovered near to her, and injected her with a mild anesthetic. She soon slipped into dreamland, and the droid carried her back to bed, which put a considerable strain on its anti-gravity lifts.

                                                            ~~~~X~~~~

Baseline Station slowly orbited through the Mars’s dark side, not to see sunlight again for several more hours. Tynea’s ship was close enough to enter high orbit around the planet, and it did so effortlessly. One thing about the ex-military ship was that its entry and docking computers were still considered cutting edge compared to civilian craft, which is something that had always come in handy for her line of work. Rek slept quietly in his overhead bunk as his sister sat at the pilot’s chair with a lukewarm coffee in her hand. She’d been awake for too long, and her eyes felt sore as she gazed over the dim control panel lights.

            “Hey,” she said loudly, in Rek’s direction, “wake up lazy ass. We have work to do.” He responded with a groan of disconcertion. It had been days since either of them had gotten any decent sleep, which made the work even more irritating. “Come on, you’re coffee’s ready and everything, let’s not delay.”

            “Alright, alright…” he said bitterly, rising slowly from the small bunk. He took a moment to straighten out his rumpled jumpsuit and looked at Tynea. “You’re in my chair.”

            “And you’re in my ship!” she joked. “But anyway I have the codes locked in, I just need you to maneuver the beams right, ok?”

            “Alright, yeah, where’ that coffee?” he demanded. Suddenly, the transmission receiver began beeping. It was represented by a small red LED on the dash panel of the ship’s controls.

            “That’s odd,” Tynea said, “first time someone’s ever called me on the job.” She pressed the switch and an image projected itself against the glass view-shield in front of them both. There was an old man’s face, unfamiliar, and he didn’t look very happy.

            “My name’s Visvin Shariv,” he stated pointedly, “I’m the assigned overseer of transportation activity in this quadrant, who might you be?”

            “Hi, I’m Tynea,” she said, then pointed to her half-awake brother, “this is my co-pilot. We’re here for work, is there something wrong?”

            “Something is wrong, in fact,” he said condescendingly, “and you shouldn’t be here.” His face became stern with authority. Tynea searched for a neutral response to offer the man, but she wasn’t sure how to handle the situation since nobody had bothered her during work before.

            “Well, sir,” she stated, “I’ve got authorization papers here, if you’d care to take a look. My contractor has assigned me a high priority removal job of an old medical station in low orbit around Mars.” He began to shake his head, and scowled slightly.

            “This place is off limits to civilians, now please leave before I escort you out,” he demanded. Tynea began to get angry.

            “Well, give me a reason why I shouldn’t take this up with your superiors?” she snapped, “I told you, I’m only here for a short time, and I’ll be out quick, ok? This job is very important and I must do it if I want to stay employed. So, unless you give me a legitimate reason that will satisfy my boss, I won’t budge!” The transmission promptly ended with a blip, and Rek looked surprised.

            “Wow, you really told him off didn’t you?” he laughed.

            “I’ve dealt with their kind before,” she admitted, “quadrant guards; no better then mall-cops. I’m amazing that anyone even bothers enforcing outdated patrol laws anyway.”

The pair sat silently in their control room chairs as they descended closer to the Martian atmosphere, they could see the faint glimmer of Baseline off in the distance. It looked almost brand new, like it had been built and left there, undergoing almost no use. It had a chrome like shell of a hull that gleamed brightly in any direct light, it must have cost a fortune to make, but with all the advances in space residence technology, people were keen on scraping obsolete stations to make way for new ones in a never ending cycle of upgrades and advancement. Some said that all the fast-paced excitement of space living and innovation had left the general population confused as to the best way to do things and most people didn’t even remember how the old technology worked. Countless billions now inhabited interplanetary residences maintained by democratic quadrant governments, but the system was so corrupt that nothing was without a price. Tynea knew the system well since her father was a politician, which is why she was able to obtain a working permit without having to commit to obligatory military service. Her brother, on the other hand, was dishonorably discharged from the forces for racing illegally with a military craft, and later crashing it into a research outpost near Saturn. They might have revoked his citizenship entirely, and would have shipped him off to the silicate mines on Io, had he not been the son of a politician either, though his father basically disowned him after the incident. Rek was more or less a drifter, but it suited his personality.

Tynea’s ship closed in on the station as Rek charged the tractor beam, it was all routine stuff. They hadn’t paid the warning much mind, concluding that the old man wouldn’t do much anyway. Usually people were all talk, at least from what they’d learned from experience. Sometimes, they’d get assigned to remove old housing units that were still occupied, and some stubborn residents would do anything to stay in their homes. It wasn’t easy telling people to get lost and find a new place to live, but it’s not like they weren’t compensated for it. This station, however, looked completely dead. No lights were on inside, at least none that either of them could see. The ship rumbled and whined as massive amounts of power diverted to the massive magnet, it took a lot of juice to run. Slowly but surely, Baseline Station began moving towards the rig, like an old tooth being ripped out of a jaw. Tynea oversaw the operation as Rek fiddled with the controls, which consisted of a joystick and monitor to make sure everything was lined up.

“Almost got it locked, you can start the engines now,” he said, still somewhat tired from lack of sleep.

“Alright, lets bring it home,” Tynea said, and she pressed down the forward thruster ignition with a beep, causing the ship to rumble even more. The engines were old and loud, and it took her experience with mechanics to maintain them. Then, out of nowhere, the sound of charged energy bolts striking thermal metal erupted in the control room. The pair nearly fell out of there seats from the impact. Bewildered, Rek got up immediately and went over to check his sister.

“Jesus Christ! What hit us?” he said, coughing slightly.

“Check the scanners, there might be some debris headed our way…” Tynea said. They were then struck a second time with a salvo of blasts that shook the siblings to the ground once again, but this time they both rose quickly and began evasive maneuvers immediately. The transmission receiver lit up, it caught both their eyes.

“That old bastard, I knew it!” Rek exclaimed. He hit the button angrily and the old man’s face was generated upon the view screen again.

‘I told you to GET OUT!” the man yelled, his face was red with anger. “I will fire again!”

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rek replied, “This isn’t legal, you’re not a quadrant patrol are you!”

            “Are you trying to kill us?” Tynea added.

            “If you don’t leave, maybe I will kill you!” the man said.

            “You crazy fool… we’re not going out without a fight,” Rek said, clenching his fists. The transmission ended and the firefight began. Without words, Tynea and Rek hit an adrenaline high as they jumped into action.

            “Weapons online,” Rek said. Tynea was already tracing the man’s ship into her targeting computers. Suddenly, the enemy ship disappeared entirely, and left no residual energy signal.

            “OK, where did that old fart go?” she said, tossing her hands up in confusion.

            “A cloak… I’ve never seen one of those before…” Rek said vaguely, looking astonished.

            “Just what in god’s name are you talking about?” Tynea said, looking back at him with a strange expression, “Are you saying he had one of those prototypes? Nobody has those.”

            “Yet,” Rek added, “But the technology has been designed, it’s just not commercially available,” he said.

            ‘Well we’re getting out of here – now. I’m not risking my life for some stupid station, no job is worth that.” And with that, she pulled up engine controls, but her spirits took a dive as she read the damage report. “Shit. He hit our engines…”

            “Are you serious? Those will take days to fix!” Rek said helplessly.

            “This day couldn’t get any worse. Just watch the bridge and I’ll see if I can get something temporary to work for us.” Tynea leapt out of her chair and climbed down the maintenance ladder with no time to waste, there was no telling how long they’d be safe before the crazy old man decided to come back and finish them off. Things weren’t looking good.

            Ixy had no idea what to think when the explosions woke her up. At first, the pull of the tractor beam had frightened her, and she had no idea what was going on. The shuddering Station grinded to a halt once Tynea’s ship broke off and tried to escape, and Ixy ran to the window to see what was going on. She could see the old rig, and it was just sitting there a few hundred yards from the Station. She had no way of communicating with it or escaping any sort of danger, and her memory was still cloudy and fragmented. The droid entered the room from up above to assess her condition.

            “Hey!” she called to it, “What was that? Who’s in that ship?”

            “Nothing to be concerned about, Ms. Fletcher, please return to your bed and continue your sleep cycle,” it droned.

            “But I can’t sleep! What’s going on? Answer me!” she insisted. The small droid seemed to appear aggravated as it hovered about the room, tidying up her sheets that had fallen to the ground.

            “I’m sorry Ms. Fletcher, but for your safety I must advise you to return to sleep and ask no further questions,” it said. Then, the unit selected a small syringe from its storage compartment, and approached her slowly. The slick glass of the shiny instrument gleamed like a sinister prick in the florescent light. “This will ease the pain.”

            “No! Leave me alone!” she screamed, kicking at the droid and sending the needle flying before it smashed to the ground. The droid would have let out a sigh had it the ability to do so. At that moment, an old man entered the room…

            “Ixy, I have no time to explain,” he said with short breath, “please do as the droid asks, I will take care of the ship outside. Do not fear me. I’m taking care of you.” Her eyes bulged with puzzlement.

            “You better explain to me what’s going on right now,” she said angrily, “I have absolutely no idea where I am or what’s going on…”

            “There’s no time to explain, I have to go now, but I’ll be back.”

            “I’ve been here for almost three decades! You owe me an explanation,” she said. The man stopped for a moment before he could rush out the door, and looked back.          

            “Fine,” he conceded, “you’re suffering from a disease that there’s no current cure for, if you must know, but I’m working on a cure!” he said quickly, she stared back blankly. “Just listen, you have no memory because it’s in a state of constant state of deconstruction and recompilation, I know this because I’ve studied every known pattern you’ve exhibited in your time at this station. And I am close, so close, to finding a cure!”

            “So, what you’re basically saying is that you’ve studied me for almost 30 years because you want to cure me?!” she said concernedly, “Who in the right mind does something like that?”

            “Your father,” he said plainly, “that’s who. And now they’re trying to scrap this facility just because I haven’t kept up with all my taxes, the nerve of those fools! I love you Ixy, and I want to save you. But I have to protect you! They’ll keep coming now, and you must remain vigilant while I hold them off.” He looked up and noticed that the droid had already applied another dosage of anesthetic and she was passed out on the bed again. “Did you have to do that?” he asked the droid, which merely shrugged its mechanical limbs.

            Tynea was able to repair the ship with no time to waste, and they quickly booted it out of Mars’s orbit before thinking twice about the ordeal. Her boss was going to be pissed, and her ship was in need of more extensive repairs. Her goal was to return to mars and scrap that station if it was the last job she’d ever do, much to Rek’s disappointment. All he wanted to do was race.

~~~~X~~~~

               As The Baseliner decelerated, pinpricks of dim blue lighting from entry barrier ahead refracted through its fortified plasiglass vacuum-shield. Inside the control-pit, the myriad instrumentation of glowing control dials and indicators danced across the vehicle`s dash panel in the darkness. Dull shades of pale blue and pineapple yellow weaved pipe-like through an elaborate configuration of cargo readouts and coordinates, two reclining crewmen in grubby green jumpsuits observed. A rectangular satellite radio was jerry rigged into a grey plastic relay box near the fuel gauge, playing the very best Industrial Rock. 

                The sleepless crewmen were off in their own distant fatigue-induced fantasies about gorgeous young women and Earth’s few places of beauty, both in low supply. Colony Tirath was contained within an enormous celestial sphere, the exterior of which was shrouded in reflective squares of solar panelling. 

               Functional and elaborate, all developed to support its eternal inhabitants.

A computerized female voice spoke broke the hypnotic buzz of electronic activity with an irritatingly monotonous drone. It worked best at obnoxiously loud to alert the negligent. “We are now entering Colony Tirath. Please be sure to wait while until all transecting cargo bars are in position before exiting the vehicle. Also, please be sure to enact all safety protocols and report to head office upon arrival. Also, please be sure-”

              “Blah-blah-blah-blah,” said Grib as he rolled his eyes. His slick black hair was a stark contrast to the vitamin-deficient pastiness of his pockmarked face.  “Chrissake Reggie,” he began again, “her voice is getting on my nerves. Can you just shut her off?”   

              It was Grib’s first mission aboard a cargo rig, he’d been asked to take the job right out of sorting, much to his dismay. He’d never really had much luck with government assigned work, the job criteria was always vague.  

             It wasn’t long before he realised that he would be spending several weeks staring out of a big rectangular vacuum-shield, star-gazing. He had discovered that after untold hours of observance, the beautiful panorama of space became a desensitizing black expanse; dead and cold. Intermittent circulation loss prevented prolonged comfort, courtesy of un-ergonomic class 2 standard seats. Such occupational distinctions simply weren’t outlined in the briefing.   

            The bearded pilot looked over at his uneasy companion with a slanted eyed stare. The deeply rooted creases that formed when he frowned seemed to traverse through an impossible maze of grime-clogged pores near his crooked nose. 

           “Hey smartass, you’re the trainee here. Shut yourself off,” he stated, and in his fleeting glint of cleverness, remembered; “I may be older then this beat-up rig, and probably most of the equipment it employs, but I got sense, boy. That’s what you need.” Reggie’s warm breath was a mix of rotten tobacco and advanced tooth decay, Grib winced when the old man spoke.

           “More sense huh?” Grib curled a stupid grin into his flat lips, “like that time you almost got us cut to shreds in that asteroid field? Lots of sense.  .  . Cough, sarcasm,” he added.

“Oh fuck-off. What kind of idiot says ‘cough’?” Reggie wheezed some kind of laugh. “Verify the damn docking codes or something, make yourself useful kid.”

           Grib resigned his agitation and gazed over at the blinking display that hovered over his left leg. He began to shake his head in disappointment. “What kinds of codes are these, are you drunk?” he asked, “relays and numbers... they’re all wrong. You’ve lost your mind.” Reggie waved a dismissive hand at the remark. He then rubbed his blood-shot eyes with oil stained hands, bits of black grit smearing against his eyelids.

         “Just a little tired, that’s all,” he said informatively, “and it’s your job to be a champ and fix it.”

“Not until you turn the damn voice off. That’s all I ask,” said Grib. Reggie clenched his jaw in frustration.

        “OK listen,” he said, “I’ve been hearing that damn voice for the better part of my working life. Don’t talk to her in a derogatory manner. She, my friend, will be the only trace of femininity you’ll hear for months to come.” Reggie was pointing his finger at him as some sign of mutual understanding, but it was clear that his message wasn’t getting through.

        ``Yeah... respect. And to think, I could have been doing something worth a damn like working for Train-way Galaxy or something. This is the most bullshit job. Someone my age shouldn’t be freighting long-haul anyway, why did I have to get sorted into this? What happened to all the old crazy space truckers?” Grib tilted his head back slightly, lost in a glimpse of nostalgia. Reggie merely nodded to express his disinterest as he gazed out the vacuum-shield.

“Dead my son, they’re all dead,” he replied, seeming to convey an undertone of retrospective sadness.