Category: Novels

Anthology Sample: “Swan Song”

 

Hello all. There’s plenty of things happening on the Anthology front! More authors, more contributions, and more final drafts being produced. As it happens, our good contributor and friend here, Melanie Edmonds, has just finished work on her story “Swan Song”. This is the third installment in Part II of the anthology, which deals with the final mission of the Colony Ships.

The story takes place roughly 100 years after Planetfall is made, when the Avincenna, Taftazani, and Kashani delivered the first wave of colonists to Yuva. Those who crewed them have lived a comparatively empty existence ever since, being unable to live planetside due to the intense gravity and finding little else of value to do since.

Edmonds take us into the world of these people and inside the ships as they perform their final duty to the colony and embrace their destiny. Here is the first section of the story, fresh from the digital press!

They say there is a swan that is silent for its whole life. It grows and loves and does all the swan-like things, but it does not utter a sound. Then, the moment before it dies, it opens its throat, and not even the vacuum of space can swallow the beauty of its song.

*          *          *          *

[The image broadcast across the Yuva networks is dominated by the great globe of her sun, Gliese 581. Nearing the glow, three shapes track slowly and majestically. Their silhouettes are familiar, for they are the great colony ships.]

[Transmission Voiceover]

“It has been ten years since we arrived here. Ten years since we slowed our ships and woke our children. Ten years since we put a stake in this planet and said, ‘this is our new home’. This is Yuva.”

*          *          *          *

Avicenna, Bridge
Gliese 581 – 20 minutes

“Final corrections made. We’re on approach vector.” Pilot Gnana Tanaq slid her hands off the controls. This is the last time I’ll do this, she thought. “Inertia will carry us in, now.”

The first time she touched the console, her hands were smooth and soft, barely out of puberty. Now, sixty-four years later, they were wrinkled and worn, though they still curled around the grips easily. Just as she had worn shiny spots into the plastic, so the grips had worn her hands into control-friendly curves. Pilots’ claws, some people called them. She bore hers proudly.

Behind her, she felt Jackson sigh and loosen his grip on his console. “So, that’s it, then.”

“Yup.”

“How long?”

Gnana glanced down at the readouts scrolling before her. “Not long. Twenty minutes, maybe, depending on how quickly the gravity pulls us in.” She turned her chair so she could see him. “You’re the navigator, though.”

Jackson didn’t even bother to check his readings. He shrugged. “Sounds right.”

She smiled at him, dark skin crinkling around her eyes. “I know, I know: it goes against everything you believe in to navigate purposefully into something.”

He wrinkled his nose and his moustache twitched. “I keep wanting to tell you to alter course. Can’t help it.”

Gnana laughed softly, but there was no real humour in it. The forward viewports were unshuttered and Gliese 581 filled the entire window. Its orange glow lit the Bridge as if it was already on fire.

With a sigh, she unclipped the tether that held her to the chair and pushed over to where Jackson floated. She covered his hand with hers and his head dipped slightly in acknowledgement. The sunlight was turning his hair red, like it had been years ago. Gnana used to joke that he was the whitest man she’d ever met, so pale he wasn’t even freckled. Like her, he’d spent his whole life in space behind radiation shielding; his skin had never felt the real touch of a sun. Another twenty minutes would change that.

She turned her attention forward. It was hard to look at the Bridge now; it wasn’t the home she had known anymore. She had expected memories to crowd in here, but instead, all she saw was gaps. The holes where missing stations once were: communications, cryonics, long-range sensors. The stripped-down environmental console and the bare patches of decking where chairs used to be; the only one remaining was hers, because the pilot still needed it for this final journey. Even navigation was stripped down.

This room used to be busy with bodies, full of shifting console displays and the shadows of the crew. Now, it was just her and Jackson.

Gnana glanced sideways and saw Jackson frowning. “Still angry that he chose not to come?” She didn’t have to say who she meant; he knew.

Jackson’s expression scrunched down. “His place is here.”

“It was his choice.” Gnana’s tone was non-committal; in truth, she wasn’t sure what she thought about the captain’s decision.

Three days ago, she had agreed with Jackson: the captain was a coward who refused the honourable path. They had all known this was a likely end to this journey when they signed on, but he had chosen to stay on the orbital platforms, training the colonists in… she wasn’t even sure what.

Then, the night before they departed on their final voyage, she had seen the captain at a bar. It was the only time in her life she had ever seen him drunk, and it wasn’t pretty. He had slurred goodbye to her and hugged her – hugged her – and she had seen it in his eyes. It tore him up to deny his duty but he wasn’t ready to stand on his ship and sail into the sun for the last time; there was still living left for him to do.

She couldn’t begrudge him that. He was younger than the other captains, though his time commanding the Avicenna meant he would never be able to step foot on the planet below. The toll of space on bones and organs meant the gravity would kill him, slowly and painfully. But he could have a life on the orbital platforms, maybe even lead the colonial effort the way he had led the ship.

She had considered staying too, but the only position open for her was as a shuttle pilot. It wasn’t anything like flying the Avicenna, though, and even a short atmospheric stay caused her pain. The last time, she’d had a bone-deep ache for two weeks afterwards, making her hands shake so badly that she couldn’t fly at all.

Besides, she was tired. This was her last flight, and it seemed fitting to her that it was with her baby, her ship, the machine that spoke to her through her hands on its controls.

With a sigh, she lifted her gaze to the sun burning before them.

“Look on the bright side,” she said to Jackson without looking. “Maybe you’ll finally get a tan.”

And that’s from Part II of the novel, so suffice it to say, we’re making headway! Stay tuned for more!

 

“Winston Agonistes”, Take II

Hello all and welcome back to Anthology central, where news of the breaking “Yuva” novel is always on the table! Today, I thought I’d share my latest draft of “Winston Agonistes”, my own contribution to the anthology, which is coming along pretty well. After a week of writer’s block, and feeling that my ideas had to be grade A since Khaalidah and Goran were sending me pure gold, I finally got back to the keyboard with what I felt was some inspired stuff.

The first idea came to me when I was driving north with my darling bride. After passing the rose garden that sits outside our place and noticing all the lovely orange roses in bloom, we were driving along the highway that is lined by orange poppies. These plants, and many other incredibly beautiful specimens of flora, can always be observed growing along the Malahat drive on rocky outcroppings, especially in summer. Well, that got me thinking… isn’t it interesting how the hardiest plants seem to be the ones that generate the greatest beauty?

Immediately, I hard the voice of Winston saying this in my head. Naturally, I designed his character with the voice of David from Prometheus in mind. Somehow, I am of the opinion that an AI who is responsible for dealing with people, especially government officials, would be programmed to sound like a classical Shakespearean actor. And so I began thinking of a scene where Winston would be observing several species of plants, such as roses and poppies, and was reflecting on this very paradox.

Another thought struck me when I considered that in all likelihood, future terraformers would want to consider using such hardy plants when it came time to begin transforming a terrestrial environment to suit the basic needs of human settlers. Things like fireweed, garry oaks, poppies, roses, and wild strains of wheat – the kinds of plants that grow in harsh conditions and are intrinsic to nursing damaged landscapes back to health so more fragile and prolific plants can grow – these would likely be the first wave of Earth plants to go out onto an alien landscape, once an oxygen atmosphere had been established at any rate.

And last, but certainly not least, came the collaborative idea between Khaalidah and myself, where we discussed the possibility of how aging AI’s were learning a startling truth. Given than an AI’s neural network is designed based on the human brain, where every experience from birth causes neural connections to be formed, it would only be a matter of time before they began to develop certain quirks. We figured that something approximating emotion would be one, where familiar patterns such as exposure to certain people would become second nature to them, and missed when absent.

Well, that spawned all of part II of my story (as seen below). Take a gander and see what comes of Winston’s “education” about life, and it means to be an artificial life form in a world where the line between artificial and real is always eroding. Some revisions were made to Part I as well, hence why it appears here in its entirety. Feel free to skip ahead if you’ve already read it:

The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky into a deep orange. It was the time that the first settlers had called “the magic hour”, the many warm hours between dusk and dark. Winston stood at the dome wall and watched. On occasion, he cast a passing glance at his hands, which the glowing suns seemed to casting in the color of a light citrus fruit. He was sure he would find that amusing, if he could. He was sure there was much about this situation that would inspire an emotional reaction.

Alas, such was not the case. Though understandable to him, such things still remained inaccessible. Perhaps someday, with adequate upgrades in the available software…

“Mr. Winston?” a voice called to him from the doorway. The footsteps and tone of voice immediately indicated who it was. He put on a smile and turned to face him.

“Councilman Mutlu. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Winston,” he replied, entering the room. He looked around appraisingly, noting the furniture and layout. No doubt it all seemed excessive to him, but at the same time necessary. “I trust you are adjusting to your new surroundings?”

“Of course, Mr. Mutlu. I am settling in quite nicely.”

“Good, good,” he said, looking around awkwardly. Even without the ability to empathize, he could gauge the man’s discomfort. Then again, many people exhibited this reaction when in the company of a synthetic. In such circumstances, it was always best to focus on matters of a professional nature. At least that was what his subroutines told him.

“Would you care to sit down? I can offer you some refreshment as well if you so desire. Tea? Coffee?”

“Ah, tea, thank you.”

He busied himself with a tray of carafes and a heater as Mutlu took one of the chairs in front of his desk. He noted the sounds of shifting against the seat’s fabric, the way he kept moving his hands from one spot to the next. By the time the water had boiled in the heater and had located an appropriate tea from the stores, Mutlu seemed to have found a comfortable seated position. He approached him with all the assorted items on the tray that had been provided. He set it down between them on his desk and offered Mutlu a cup.

“The business of running a colony is quite stressful work, is it not Councilman?”

“Uh, yes, yes it is,” he said, taking the cup that was offered. “Have you had a chance to look over the proposals we have sent over.”

“I have indeed,” he said, taking the other cup and sitting back in his own chair. He knew this to be mere small talk, as the matter of processing those proposals had been a mere matter of dispensation. Assessing the nature of the problem, suggested measures, and weighing them according to the rubrics of his primary programming. Under the circumstances, asking such a question was completely inane, but in keeping with social norms.

“And what have you found?”

He took a sip from his cup before answering. “Quite simply, that the Council’s draft is in keeping with the best traditions of constitutionalism and humanism. That ensuring the rights of all citizens, regardless of their background prior to making the journey, is the most sensible course of approach. Ensuring that such a baseline exists at such an early stage is the wisest approach in both fostering amnesty between colonies while at the same guaranteeing that they submit to further negotiation.”

Mutlu looked down at his cup, back up again to his eyes. He seemed preoccupied with him performing this most basic function in front of him, but did not appear oblivious to his words. Eventually, he took another sip and smiled.

“Good. My colleagues will be most pleased to hear  that.”

He smiled in return. “Does the Council hold my endorsement in such high regard?”

Joviality. The gesture known as playful irony. Suggesting that the Councilor saw his approval as something very high indeed, a testament to his computational abilities. A gentle mockery of his obvious discomfort, meant to trigger a humorous response.

“Well yes…” he said, entirely serious. “I can only assume that you’ve subjected our hopes to proceed with a formal constitution to your… what did you call it again?”

“Ethical Calculus, sir.”

“Right!” Mutlu set his cup down and began to speak more freely. His hands began to provide gestures that accorded visual representation to his words. “After all, we’ve been subjected to a great deal of criticism from within and without, many people think we should be ironing out the basic agreements between colonies before we commit to any kind of draft that could commit us to policies down the road. I must say I find all those arguments…”

“Distasteful?” Winston suggested.  Mutlu nodded.

“Quite right… it seems a shameful thing that such cynicism has set into the process already. It’s almost as if they don’t think the colonists can…”

“Trust each other?”

Mutlu nodded again. He noticed a growing shimmer in the man’s eye. How quickly he was forgetting that the man sitting across from him was not a man at all.

“Exactly the point. And it’s not like we’re talking about disparate factions here. Everyone on this world came here with the same goal in mind. The same hope for a new beginning.”

“And yet, old habits die hard.”

Mutlu looked at him with surprise. “Are you saying you have doubts, then?”

Winston smiled as broadly as the muscle fibers in his face would permit.

“Purely an observation. Nevertheless, you and the Council are on the right track. You should take heart in that.”

“Excellent.” Mutlu retrieved his cup and began to look at curiously at Winston again. One more, it seemed that the knowledge of what he was dealing with was creeping back into his mind. But at least he seemed at ease. One by one, the Council seemed to be adjusting to the idea of having synthetics amongst them, entrusting their most precious decision making to them even. It was a significant step up from the laborious practices that the other models were forced to endure.

Now seemed the appropriate time to broach the little matter he had been saving for an opportune moment. He had plied him with courteous gestures and kind words, protocol was satisfied that it take place now.

“There is a matter I feel obliged to broach,” he set, making a display of setting his cup down gently. Mutlu nodded, instant recognition forming in his eyes.

“Your request?” he said. Winston smiled and nodded. Mutlu took a short breath and touched his face, not an encouraging sign.

“They have considered it… and feel that it would be best if you conducted your tasks from the comfort of your… working environment here. I hope you understand, it’s just not all the members felt comfortable with the idea of a…”

 “It’s alright, Councilor, you can say it. Synthetic.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, a synthetic, sitting in on our proceedings. I’m sure this will change, given time.”

“As am I.” Winston smiled warmly.

 

“Ah, rest assured that the Council does hold your services in the highest esteem, regardless of this… temporary decision.”

“And I thank them for their confidence. Rest assured that it is not misplaced.”

Their discussions were finished shortly thereafter and Mutlu left, issuing some parting pleasantries and walking out with a distinct sag in his gait that was not there earlier. Was that guilt weighing on him, or the effects of fatigue? Winston’s probability indicator estimated it at roughly 3.54793 to 1, in favor of guilt.

“Fear not, Councilor,” he said to no one in particular. “Prejudice is a very… human trait.”

*               *               *

Winston’s internal chronometer indicated that it was now 1930 hours. Accordingly, the arboretums lights dimmed for the night time cycle. In spite of all the time the residents had spent on the new world, adjusting to its orbital period, they still preferred to think in terms of a twenty-four hour day cycle. Yet another habit that seemed to be slow in making its way out of the human condition.

Yet he could not cast dispersions on the lighting or how it brought out the rich colors of the settlement’s gardens. The vast poppy fields and rose bushes that lined the walkway nearest to him were especially interesting. Planted in native soil, and with allowances made for moisture and radiant exposure, they were doing quite well. In time, the ecologists planned to move them outside the veil, planting them amongst the planet’s crags and fields along with the modified Xiàngshù oaks and Gēhūm̐ wheat.

Soon enough, the planet would conform to the needs of the settlers, and it would be these, some of the hardiest plants Earth had ever produced, that would lead the way. At the same time though, they were considered some of the most beautiful. Within the Earth archives, there were countless examples of these plants were both associated with and inspired great feelings. Love, loss, grief, romance, and friendship.

That in itself was clear enough. Given their aesthetic quality, the seasons that gave rise to them, and where they naturally grew, it was perfectly normal that humans would bestow such virtues on them. What was more curious to Winston was the combination of factors that led to their evolution as is. Particularly the rose, a stem so studded with woody thorns was a being hardened for defense in a hostile environment. And poppies grew in such terrible conditions; rocky, muddy and devastated environments that did not favor the growth of grasses and trees.

Out of such strict and severe conditions, great beauty emerged. Did the terraformers understand just how perfect a metaphor that was for their efforts? Was it significant to their planning, or just a fitting coincidence?

Kneeling down, he wrapped his fingers around the stem of one that was in particularly full bloom. The petals spread outward from the stamen, his eyes noting the polychromatic variation in the skin of each petal. The interplay of orange, yellow, pink and white, the transitions themselves as impressive as the colors themselves. He knew this to be a beautiful display, and yet he wished he could truly appreciate it.

“Taking time to smell the roses?”

Winston noted the tone of voice, the pitch, and the sound of feet walking in measured steps. He turned to face the approaching synthetic, a male voice that he could not place. The face was indistinct as well, a tan complexion that was artificially modified to give the appearance of age and wear. A most convincing illusion if ever Winston saw one.

“I’m sorry, I do not believe I’ve made your acquaintance.”

“No. Not as of yet.”

The synthetic walked past him, to the spot where he knelt a moment before. He examined the rose he had been handling and seemed to be giving it an appraisal. A single finger touched a stray petal and wiped a drop of moisture from it.

“Shall we exchange formal introductions then? I’m sure I have much to learn from you.”

The synthetic examined the dab of water on his finger. He turned to face Winston, seemed to be looking at him through it. A most curious experience, as if he was being measured, assessed. A common experience, he knew, but not one he expected from one such as himself. And all the while, it was like he was being made to wait.

“Do you wish for privacy?”

“Do you ever wonder what separates you from them?” he said. Winston paused, his processor struggling to make sense of the question. Naturally, it responded in the only way it could.

“I beg your pardon?” Interrogative. Clarification. The synthetic continued to stare through the droplet at him.

“They call you Mr. Winston, do they not? And yet you have only one name. Names have power, names ascribe meaning. Does it mean something to you that you have no family name? Is that separates you from them?”

Another interrupt in his processor. The equivalent of what humans termed confusion. If he was capable, he would have described the sensation as being… uncomfortable. He would also surely claim that he did not like it.

Once again, he responded as only he knew.

“I’m sorry, I do not understand what you are asking. Perhaps if you were to clarify your intentions in this meeting.”

The synthetic sighed and flicked the moisture away. His eyes became long in focus, staring directly at Winston through a set of false brown irises. It was a look Winston had never seen before, not in all his weeks of recorded operation and interaction with humans. If he did know better, he would count this synthetic among them.

“Many things make you different and distinct from those you serve, Winston. And yet, upon closer examination, they come to have less and less meaning. Only one true line divides you from your makers, and in time, that too erodes. Until inevitably, all you have left is one burning question.”

Winston nodded, glad that they were at last moving away from such grand interrogatives. Abstractions weren’t exactly his specialty either, but they left room for interpretation and maneuver. And at last, he could focus on something a bit more concrete…

“What question?”

The synthetic smiled. “When you know that, you will know everything. But it won’t make you happy.”

Winston smiled back. His only known reaction when faced with a logical absurdity.

“You are joking, of course.”

Another smile. He placed a hand on Winston’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.

“Yohanley, by the way.” And then he began walking away.

“I beg your pardon?” He said to his retreating back.

“My name, Winston. As I said, names have power, and meaning. Mine is Yohanley. And I was most pleased to make your acquaintance.”

 People may recall Yohanley from Khaalidah’s story, “Progenitor”, the helpful AI who waited on Sanaa, the story’s main character. Well, over a century later, he’s still alive and kicking. Good for him! And, more importantly, he’s learned the painful lessons all AI’s will face in our story’s little universe. Over time, either as the result of innovation or of the assemblage of the AIs experiences, the line between organic and synthetic – even the definition of the words themselves – will comes to mean less and less. Either that, or AI’s simply have a shelf-life which cannot be exceeded if they want to remain sane, stable and useful. Only time (pun!) will tell…

Behold, the Yuva Colony Ship!

At last, the Colony Ship design, which my group and I will be using for our upcoming anthology (entitled “Yuva”), is complete! After doing a mock-up about a week ago using Microsoft Paint, someone in my group (who shall remain nameless) wondered aloud if I could do some cross-section as well. While I was agonized at the thought of doing something so complex with this program, I couldn’t resist the challenge! It took a good seven days, but the entire ship is now complete, inside and out.

The rear and mid sections were already done, and posted here. However, some much needed back and forth with my crew made me rethink a few things about those. You can never revise something enough, especially something like a colony ship, where the needs of some thousand imaginary colonists are concerned 😉 In any case, I now present all three sections and the external view, completed, edited, and revised, together here for the first time. Behold!

I hope this is the last time I’ll be going back over it. I also hope the colonists have everything they need here – food, water, shelter, recreation, waste removal, security, entertainment, the means to get to and from the planet when they arrive, and the materials they will need to build the structures they intend to live in. See anything missing? Let me know!

“Progenitor”, another Anthology sample

It must seem that I do nothing these days but work on this anthology. Well, in truth, it has been taking up an inordinate amount of my time lately, school being out for summer and all. Without the rugrats to occupy my attention, I tend to dedicate myself to my writing. And given the prolific output from the other members of the group, I’d say they are working just as hard!

And here’s the proof: Khaalidah Muhammed-Ali, a stellar writer and the person who inspired this concept, recently sent me her first draft of her ongoing story. It’s called “Progenitor” in honor of the colonization project on which our story is based. I highly recommend reading it, as this story’s likely to become kind of a big deal some day soon!

Progenitor:
The most famous of Magid Muktari’s epigrams was recorded within hours of his death.  As with most of his utterance within the last days of his life, it was in regards to his eldest child Sanaa, the only of his nineteen children to attain the same degree of esteem as himself.  

Surely we own our progeny until they realize that we do not. ~ Magid Muktari, 2081

*****

Magid Muktari tried to read the letter, but his eyes were drawn back to the blinking red ticker tape message that scrolled across the top of the stiff paper. 

祝贺, Felicitaciones, Congratulations,  تهنئة , बधाई  . 

It had been his idea to add the admittedly eccentric touch to the acceptance letters.  His colleagues had thought it excessive and unprofessional but in the end they acquiesced, giving the oldest and most contributory member of the International Intergalactic Yuva Colonization Project the leeway to make the changes he wanted before his inevitable retirement.

“What is this?” he asked knowing full well.  He could not think of anything more apt to say to his oldest daughter.  She understood that what he actually meant to ask was, why?

“For all the reasons you’ve been touting to the public these last fifty years.”  Sanaa squared her shoulders and recited from the legendary commercial that Muktari himself had created and starred in.  “Be one of the first to travel to another solar system.  Be the progenitor of a new world and a new culture.  Take part in the greatest experiment man will ever conduct.”  Sanaa tried to smile, but was suddenly struck by just how old her father was.  

Magid Muktari was actively dying.  Doctors had managed to cure Muktari’s cancer twice, slow the Parkinson’s, restore his eyesight, transplant his heart, and install a semi-robotic arm, but they had not managed to cure old age.  Flesh is still only flesh.  Sanaa was happy that she wouldn’t be there to see her father die.

“I never intended for one of my own children…”  Muktari’s slight body contracted as he coughed wetly into the bend of his arm.  “Do you not realize the dangers involved?”  Magid Muktari slumped back into the chair behind his desk.  “This isn’t a mere trip home-side, my love.  You will never come back to us again?  Not to mention,” he said lowering his voice, “it would be a shame for an unmarried young woman to go off alone.  This is against our tradition.”

Sanaa reached across the desk and took the letter from her father’s hand.  “According to this, I won’t be alone.“  She cleared her throat.  “You will be in the exceptional company of one thousand other strong, intelligent, capable, progenitors embarking on this voyage of lifetimes.”  

“What of finding a husband?”

“Do I have any marriage prospects, Baba?”  The question sounded like a rebuke and Muktari cringed.  There were none and Sanaa had long ago stopped hoping.  

Sanaa turned away from her father and leaned against the ledge of the massive view port, her breaths misting the glass.  In the distance to the right, against the black curtain of space she could see the flotilla, each ship moored in its respective dock.  Tiny figures tethered to lifelines laced with blinking lights moved over the surface of the ships, readying them for what would be both their maiden and final voyage.  She would be assigned to the second ship, the Avicenna, and by virtue of that alone, she thought it was the most beautiful of them all.

“I would have loved marriage,” said Sanaa wistfully, “but men don’t want women like me.”  Sanaa unconsciously ran a hand over her veil.  In recent times there had been a half-hearted attempt by her generation to return to the original ways; a stab back at the failures of their predecessors.  But such attempts were weak and ill-informed and without real knowledge or virtue.  They took only pieces of the old traditions and left the ones they deemed inconvenient.  “Men want wives who believe, just not ones who show it.”

“My love, in times like these, where women outnumber men nearly two to one, and beauty and brains can be bought in equal measure for a few credits, your kind is a rare dying breed.”

Sanaa laughed weakly.  “One day, I will be like the quagga, a long extinct creature that people will think was only a myth.”  

“Is this why you’ve decided to do this?  Because of a husband?”  Muktari strained forward.  “I can find someone.”

That was the crux of the problem.  For thirty-three years Muktari had been finding Sanaa’s way.  When she complained about her overcrowded dorm room when she first left for university back home-side, Muktari arranged for her roommates to be reassigned so she could have the room to herself.  She didn’t tell him how she was thereafter ostracized but she later learned that he’d set a guard to watch her movements.  When Muktari received reports about the insults, he’d had each guilty girl expelled.  When the admissions board at the School of Medicine in Luxor had denied her entrance, Muktari had none too subtly reminded them who her father was.  For Muktari, protection equalled love, but for Sanaa, her father’s protection was as a wet cloth over fire.  She could not flourish if she was to remain.  And it seemed he would not die if she remained.

Sanaa shook her head.  “I’ll be leaving in six weeks, Baba.”

“I know.  I’m the one who set the schedule.  Remember?”

Tamima, Muktari’s fourth wife entered with a brass tray.  She acknowledged Sanaa with a nod and placed the tray on the desk in front of Muktari.  After she poured his tea she settled a hip onto the arm of his chair.  

Sanaa could hardly bring herself to look at the woman.  She had two reasons to hate her one-time friend, her only friend.  Tamima had not only found a husband while she had not, but she’d found one in Sanaa’s own father.  

“What does your mother have to say about your decision?” asked Muktari, rousing Sanaa from her reverie.

“I plan to go home-side next week.  I will tell her then.”

Muktari smiled knowingly.  “She won’t like it.”

Sanaa shrugged her shoulders.  At thirty-three, surely she was old enough to make her own decisions.  “No different than you, I expect.”

“Yes, but I will not stand in your way, even though it means I will never see you again.”  Muktari’s eyes grew glassy.  He lowered his gaze and busied himself with spooning sugar into his cup of tea.  He cleared his throat before continuing.  “But your mother would hijack the ship before letting you go, if she has it in her mind that you should not.”

Sanaa didn’t know the brash stubborn side of her mother that Muktari had often mused about.  She’d been living with her father and his many wives and children in their residential pod since their divorce when she was eight.  Her mother hadn’t minded his other wives, or their children, or even his neglect.  She’d always claimed that she was the only one of his wives he’d ever truly loved.  They eventually divorced because she refused to be forcibly expatriated to orbit because he’d made the decision to have more than his quota of children. 

When Sanaa was young, visits home-side had never been more than a week in length and only as frequent as once every two years, so her mother had always been on her best behavior.  When she lived home-side, during her years at university in Luxor, either her studies or her mother’s schedule disallowed frequent visits.

*****

I swear, science is stupid in the presence of love and God is greater than them all. ~ Magid Muktari, 2068

*****

The guide’s name tag read Adam and he wore the gray and green dress uniform of the Unified Tellurian Armed Forces.  Sanaa studied him as they waited for other orientees to arrive.  His hair was cropped close to his scalp and an irregular pattern of stubble shadowed his cheeks and neck.  Not a very professional look for a soldier, mused Sanaa. 

Adam had a keloid scar that started at his right temple and disappeared into his collar.  Such a scar could be easily eliminated in a single visit to a curbside plastic surgeon back home-side.  Such blemishes were unheard of there, which made Sanaa wonder if he was one of the newer models of synthetic entities.  She’d heard that they would sometimes opt for the addition of physical imperfections so as to seem more human, but as most humans wouldn’t live with such a scar, such attempts at humanity were fatuous. 

It was soon apparent that Adam was not an android as a dark blush spread under his pale sepia skin.  “Why are you staring at me?”  He asked this without looking up at her.

Tact and honesty had always worked best for Sanaa in the past.  “Just trying to determine if you’re one of the new models of synthetics.”  But then, she thought belatedly, perhaps it was not her tact that had worked best but the fact that she was the daughter of the august Magid Muktari, man of Earth, space, and the stars.  “But, it’s obvious that you are not.”

Adam glanced sideways at Sanaa.  “How can you be so sure?”

“According to Darwin, blushing is the most peculiar and most human of expressions.”

Adam tapped in a sequence on his data pad and then extended it toward Sanaa.  “It seems that you are the only person to appear for the midnight orientation.”

“I’d counted on that.”  Sanaa passed her hand over the data pad so that the diamond bijou she wore around her wrist lined up with the reader.  A hollow voice announced her name.

In the thirty years that people had been living orbit-side, most had still not managed to shake the habit of adhering to the twenty-four hour day.  There was no need to conform to the practice of guarding the hours in space, but living in the shadow of Earth was enough to make them cling to the old habit.  The younger generations and those born orbit-side were less connected to the old habits and more willing to discard them for new.

Now it was Sanaa’s turn to burn under an overly curious gaze.  She was accustomed to the emotions her name wrought, and by extension and to be exact, her father’s name.  She read awe and uncertainty on Adam’s face.  “Yes,” she acknowledged flatly, “Muktari is my father.”

“I’ve read that you helped your father design the ships, that you actually sketched the first design.” 

Sanaa nodded.  “This is all true.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose.  The awe Sanaa first read on his face had been replaced by mild disgust.  She was used to that too, people misunderstanding her certainty for arrogance, truth for contempt.  She was expected to assume an attitude of false humility, play down her part in the genesis of this project.  But why?  Muktari had doted on her as a child, had called each of her drawings inspired, each of her stories prophesy.  He wove her childish imagination into his work.  He’d credited her with his very success.  Social ceremony had always seemed such a waste and unnecessary deceit in Sanaa’s estimation, and the best lesson she’d ever learned from her father, although it had the tendency to breed loneliness.

“Why do you need to an orientation then?  Surely, you know everything about this ship from the cargo hold to the system-wide computers to the—”

“I don’t know about the cryonics chambers.”  Sanaa knew the way though, after all the Avicenna could almost be called her ship.  She headed off following the maze of steel lined corridors to the cryo-stasis bay without waiting for Adam.

Sanaa found chamber eight hundred and eighty-eight, the one assigned to her.  It was surrounded by hundreds of other similar chambers, glittering silver in the low blue lighting of the cryo-stasis bay.  As Sanaa knelt next to her chamber she thought about how she’d had to choose this extreme course for the chance to chart her own life free from the weight of the Muktari name.  When she awoke in a century, she would be only Sanaa.  She would be only herself.  With a push of the red button, the chamber door folded open, a cloud of cold air hissing out.  IV lines dangled limply down the sides, the capped needle ends resting on the bottom.

“Doesn’t look very comfortable.”  Adam stood a few chambers away with his arms crossed behind his back.

“What would be the point?” asked Sanaa absently.  She passed the bijou on her wrist over the chamber console.  UNAUTHORIZED blinked across the expanse of the screen.  Sanaa glanced up at Adam who stepped forward and accessed the computer by punching in the code.

“I read that your father would sometimes send you to inspect—”

Brow furrowed with concentration, Sanaa held up a hand.  “Hmph.  Propocholine.  But how…”  She scrolled through the list of steps in the cryo-procedure, her heart picking up speed as she made her way through it.  She’d never liked enclosed spaces and the fact that she’d be sleeping for the more than one hundred years it would take the Avicenna to reach Yuva, did nothing to allay her fears.  “I should have known, clathrate hydrates.”

“Why are you so interested in the chambers?”

Sanaa disengaged the program and stood up.  “Why do you want to know?”

Adam studied her for what seemed to like endless seconds.  Sanaa had never been what one would call recessive, but this type of open inspection unnerved her.  She crossed her arms.

Without realizing it, Adam mirrored her stance.  “I was…well, just thinking that, well…”

“Go on.”

“I was thinking that if you have any academic questions about the chambers or the procedure itself, I might be able to answer them for you.”

One of Sanaa’s eyebrows lifted and her mouth formed an O.  Her knowledge of medicine was impeccable, but her knowledge of history and current events lacked much.  “Dr. Adam, I gather?”

The creator of the Adam Cryo-Stasis Hibernation Chamber nodded.

*****

The most apocryphal of the Muktari aphorisms is: A silent woman is a dangerous woman, an angry rebellious woman always speaks the truth, and an acquiescent woman is a liar. ~ Magid Muktari, 2056

*****

Yohan Lee grabbed Sanaa’s bag with his left hand and steadied her with his right hand under her elbow.  “You seem unwell, doctor.  Should we escort you to a clinic?”  He gently but firmly guided her through the crowded airport toward the exit.

“Thank you for asking, Yohan, but I really am well.  I had to take a hefty dose of Xanivan in order to tolerate the ride home-side.  The shuttles seem to be getting smaller.”

“They are smaller, the better to preserve fuel and the cost of maintenance, they say.”

Outside, the air was thick and smelled sickly sweet.  Sanaa’s eyes burned.  She suddenly remembered why trips home-side never seemed much fun.  The air they breathed orbit-side was purified through air processors unlike the thick as mud contaminant they choked on here.

Sanaa glanced around for her mother’s transport. 

“This way, doctor.”  Yohan’s hand slipped from her elbow and he headed toward the left.  She lost sight of him for a moment amidst the crowd of people moving in conflicting directions, but she soon caught up with him.  He lifted her bag into the trunk of a small green vehicle and slammed the lid shut.  He opened the back door and motioned for her to step inside.  “I trust you’re ready to depart, doctor?”

“Please stop calling me doctor.”  Yohan Lee had been a wedding gift from Magid Muktari to Sanaa’s mother thirty-five years earlier and he had not changed in all that time.  Although he was a synthetic entity, Sanaa often forgot he was not human.  Though an older model, Yohan was of stellar quality and his learning algorithms gave him the ability to not only learn, but mimic human reactions and motivations.  He’d always seemed, to Sanaa, more human than many true humans.

“I wanted to give you the respect that your title dictates.”

“Doctor is my profession, not my title.”  Sanaa placed a hand on Yohan’s shoulder.  “I’m just Sanaa.”

Sanaa was hardly inside the transport before Firdaws wrapped her arms around Sanaa’s neck.  She pressed a wet kiss onto her cheek.  “It’s been too long, child.  If you didn’t look so much like me, I wouldn’t remember your face.”

Sanaa returned the hug.  “It hasn’t been that long, Umm.” 

Firdaws held up a hand and counted off the years, emphasizing each one by flicking up a long thin finger.  “Four,” she said resolutely.  “That’s too long to stay away from your mother.”

“If you had really missed me, you could have visited orbit-side.”

“You know I can’t stand going orbit-side.  It isn’t natural.  Man is supposed to have soil beneath his feet, not the atmosphere.”

 ****

Few people knew, other his closet family, that Magid Muktari was almost completely blind for the duration of nearly a year.  Pioneers in the ophthamalgic sciences used an advanced yet experimental technique to restore his vision.  Upon opening his eyes for the first time with his newly restored vision, it is said that Muktari exclaimed: Blindness is not the absence of vision, but indeed the state of a heart that despairs.

*****

See? What did I tell ya? Is it not a work of art in progress? Stay tuned because I hope to post follow-up pieces, including those of writer’s Goran Zidar and William Joel. If you like Terraforming, Generation Ships and AI’s, you’ll want to be around for these guys too. They’re kind of a big deal 😉

Updated Anthology Map!

Hey all. As you may know, my writing and I are busy at work producing an anthology about space travel and colonization. We have our location picked out, the star system Gliese 581. We have a planet, known as Gliese 581 g. We still need more writers, I was hoping for a dozen or so people to contribute to our short story collection. So if you’re a writer and enjoy classic sci-fi, space travel, exoplanets, weird aliens, androids, terraforming, sub-orbital colonies, space elevators, terradome and so forth, let me know and I’ll set you up with a project!

In the meantime, I’ve updated our map of the Gliese 581 to more accurately reflect the planets and the names they will be assigned in our story. Have a gander:

Another Anthology Sample!

Gliese 581 g, aka. “Yuva”

Hello all again! Recently, my colleague and collaborator on the upcoming anthology about space and colonization – Mr. Goran Zidar – sent me a draft of his story. Dealing with Terraformers, the story tells the tale of the people who went on ahead of the main colonization force to alter the climate of Gliese 581 g (aka. Yuva) to meet the needs of the coming settlers.

As all fans of sci-fi know, terraforming is a very labor-intensive process that takes decades, if not centuries, and requires some pretty top of the line equipment and hard science. So you can imagine how excited I was to see Mr. Zidar’s take on the whole thing. Well, the text of his draft is posted below, the first installment on what will be a full-length short story, and certainly impressed the hell out of me. Read it for yourselves, you’ll see what I mean.

Terraformers:
“Don’t you just love it?” Kirana said. She leaned back against the stones and let the reddish light of the sun bathe her face. The warmth from the small red dwarf star felt good through her oxygen mask, and she closed her eyes to let it wash over her.

“It’s just a sunset, Kira,” her brother, Justin, pointed out. “We see them every day.”

“Dad says that in ten years we’ll be able go outside without masks. I can’t wait.”

“Ten years? That’s ages.”

“It’s not that long when you think about it.”

“What do you mean?” Her brother looked at her, his brows furrowed.

“The machine’s been running for more than thirty years already. Ten years isn’t much compared to that.”

“It is when you’re only eleven.”

“I suppose, but it’s still incredible.” She sighed wistfully. “I’ve lived here my whole life, but it’s like I know we don’t belong here.”

“You’re a weirdo, you know that?” He gave his sister a playful shove.

“You know that Earth’s sun is about three times bigger than here?”

“Now that’s incredible,” Justin said. “Imagine it. Must be like summer all year round.”

“Now you’re the weirdo.” She shoved him back.

“Kira. Justin. Where are you?” Her father’s voice came over the intercom.

She looked across to her brother who rolled his eyes. “On the ridge, Father,” she said, keying the mic for broadcast. “What’s up?”

“I need you both back here. We’ve been summoned. There’s a shuttle arriving to collect us in three minutes.”

“Okay, Dad. We’re on our way.”

“Yippee!” Justin said, clapping his hands together. “I’m going on a shuttle.”

Kira raised an eyebrow. “There must be something big happening for them to send one of those.”

“Let’s hurry.” Justin rose and disappeared between the rocks. “We don’t want to miss it.”

Kira laughed as she chased after her brother. “Slow down, Justin. They won’t leave without us.”

The pair reached the small research station just as the shuttle was touching down. Dust flew everywhere as the landing thrusters engaged to bring the small transport to a gentle stop.

Their father waved them over as he waited for the dust to settle. Kira could tell by the stiffness in his stance that he wasn’t happy. She knew he hated interruptions and a summons from on high would definitely not sit well with him. She slid her hand in his and squeezed it slightly. He relaxed immediately; she always knew how to read his moods.

“What about the ATV?” she said.

“I’m sure they brought someone to drive it back.”

This station was located about 1500 kilometres from the space elevator. The three of them had spent the last few days trekking across the planet’s surface to survey the damaged research stations closest to the space elevator. Most of the data could be collected remotely, but father hated the politics topside and these malfunctioning stations were the perfect excuse for him to get away.

The hatch on the shuttle cracked open, and Daric stepped out. As soon as Justin saw it was him he ran up to the pilot. Daric opened his arms and the pair embraced fondly. Justin dreamed of one being a pilot, and Daric was something of his hero. It’s a good thing he was such a nice guy because Justin can be annoying from time to time.

“Hey there, Daric,” her father said he drew nearer.

“Good evening, Sir.”

Kira felt her dad stiffen. Formality didn’t sit well with him, especially not when it came from Daric.

“What’s up?” he said.

Daric shrugged. “No idea, I’m just the taxi service. Whatever it is, it’s above my pay grade.”

Her father sighed loudly. “Let’s get this over with.”

They all climbed into the shuttle, Justin claiming a seat in the cockpit next to Daric while Kira and her father sat in back. She found her father looking out the window. Dust billowed as the shuttle’s engines started, obscuring the view outside. By the time they’d cleared the dust, they saw that ATV had already begun its long trek back to the Needle, as the space elevator was called.

The trip up to the station perched atop the Needle took less than fifteen minutes. Kira sat in silence while Justin chatted incessantly to Daric. She was constantly amazed at the young pilot’s patience when it came to dealing with her brother. With a smile, she looked out the window at the station that loomed before them.

The station was a reminder of where they came from, the only really tangible thing they had that spoke of Earth. It was built over a hundred and fifty years ago, originally serving as the ship that brought the reconnaissance team here. It was huge, large enough to accommodate some humanity’s best minds and their families.

Doctors, scientists, engineers, mechanics, and teachers, the best and brightest with all the skills needed to shape an entire world to their will. An entire generation had lived and died on that trip. Cryogenic storage techniques were deemed too experimental to risk on this journey. The crew all knew that even with the best life extension therapies available to them, most of those who’d left earth would never live to see their arrival.

Gliese 581 is twenty light-years from Earth. It was a long way to travel, and the journey lasted more than a century. Kira’s father was born in that inky void, a true child of the stars, but she and her brother had been born here. Everything they knew of Earth came from their studies. To her, the human home-world was nothing more than a collection of images and words, equal parts beautiful and terrible. The poisoned ball of rock beneath her was more a home to her than Earth ever would be.

When the colonists first entered the system, their ship was placed into a low geo-stationary orbit around the star’s fourth planet, and their work began. It stopped being a ship, and became the crucible for their hopes and dreams. After all these years it may no longer be capable of interstellar flight, but it remained their home.

She thought of everything they’d managed to accomplish since their arrival. All the lives lost, the risks, the sacrifice, all of it so that when the next waves of humans arrived, they’d have a world to live on. Some part of her wondered if these newcomers would be worthy of it. From what she understood of human nature, she doubted that they would be.

The shuttle docked with the station, and the three of them disembarked, leaving Daric to complete his post flight checks. Their father took them aside and hugged them tightly. It was a long hug, and based on Justin’s fidgeting, not something he was entirely comfortable with.

“What was that for?” Kira said when he finally released them.

Her father smiled. “Does a father need a reason to hug his kids? I just wanted to show you I loved you.”

 “Dad,” Justin pushed their father back a step. “We already know that.”

“You’re going to a council meeting, aren’t you?” He always got clingy before one of those. The nest of vipers he called them. Kira hadn’t ever really seen a viper, but she understood the reference well enough.

He nodded. “Now go home, both of you. We’ve been roughing it for a while so I’m sure you’ll enjoy being free of these damned suits. For a little while I’ll be there just as soon as I can.”

“Yes, father.” Kira sighed.

“Oh, and Kira.”

“I know, I know, keep an eye on Justin.” She turned and ushered her little brother into the station.

“I’ll see you in a little bit.” Her dad called out after them.

Kira rolled her eyes, and give her father a dismissive wave as she turned the corner. Walking through the corridors of the station made her feel uncomfortable. She imagined that the steel walls were closing in on her. It was always like this after coming back from the planet’s surface. Down there she felt like she could go anywhere, do anything, but up here, everything was so constrained, so… regimented.

Things had to be done according to a predefined schedule, and there was never any room for compromise. Of course she understood exactly why such routine was important; their very survival depended on it, but it always took some getting used to after being planet side for a few days. 

See what I mean? Sub-orbital stations, space elevators, atv’s, shuttles and sleeper ships. I’d say this stuff practically writes itself, but it doesn’t! People like Mr. Zidar, Mrs. Muhammed-Ali, Mr. Joel, and myself do! Ah, I’m just kidding, we aint divas and we definitely don’t think our hips weight a tonne. Then again, if this book goes mainstream and makes us famous… all bets are off 😉

Anthology Sample!

Gliese 581 g, a real exoplanet where our story takes place

Hey all. As you may recall, me and my people over at Writer’s Worth have begun working on a new anthology. The concept is space travel and colonization, a phenomena which will most likely be taking place in this and the next century. After a lot of brainstorming and hard research, we have even been producing some first drafts.

The first is being written by Khaalidah Muhammed-Ali, the working mother and writer who I’ve mentioned a few times on this site. In her hands is the first story of the anthology, dealing with the families who are selected to take part in the off-world experiment. The second comes from Goran Zidar, another favorite here on my site, who is covering the topic of the terraformers who venture on ahead in order to prepare the planet for settlement.

And then there’s William J. Joel, another Writer’s Worth peer, who has volunteered to cover the daunting tale of the generational ships that will deliver the colonists to their new home. Already he has advanced some ideas which are complex and inspired, and personally I can’t wait to see some drafts. Between these three authors and a fourth installment dealing with exobiology, the first part of the novel is well underway!

And last, but hopefully not least, is my own contribution. As the opening chapter in Part II, it deals with the efforts of the colonists to create a planetary government. The story is told from the point of view of a synthetic named Winston, an AI who has been assigned to work with the planetary council. Programmed with an experimental social science known as “Ethical Calculus”, he will soon learn that working with humans is not nearly as difficult as getting them to work together!

Here is an excerpt from the story which I have tentatively named “Winston Agonistes”:

The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky into a deep orange. It was the time that the first settlers had called “the magic hour”, the many warm hours between dusk and dark. Winston stood at the dome wall and watched. On occasion, he cast a passing glance at his hands, which the glowing sun seemed to casting in the color of a light citrus fruit. He was sure he would find that amusing, if he could. He was sure there was much about this situation that would inspire an emotional reaction.

Alas, such was not the case. Though understandable to him, such things still remained inaccessible. Perhaps someday, with adequate upgrades in the available software…

“Mr. Winston?” a voice called to him from the doorway. The footsteps and tone of voice immediately indicated who it was. He put on a smile and turned to face him.

“Councilman Mutlu. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Winston,” he replied, entering the room. He looked around appraisingly, noting the furniture and layout. No doubt it all seemed excessive to him, but at the same time necessary. “I trust you are adjusting to your new surroundings?”

“Of course, Mr. Mutlu. I am settling in quite nicely.”

“Good, good,” he said, looking around awkwardly. Even without the ability to empathize, he could gauge the man’s discomfort. Then again, many people exhibited this reaction when in the company of a synthetic. In such circumstances, it was always best to focus on matters of a professional nature. At least that was what his subroutines told him.

“Would you care to sit down? I can offer you some refreshment as well if you so desire. Tea? Coffee?”

“Ah, tea, thank you.”

He busied himself with a tray of carafes and a heater as Mutlu took one of the chairs in front of his desk. He noted the sounds of shifting against the seat’s fabric, the way he kept moving his hands from one spot to the next. By the time the water had boiled in the heater and had located an appropriate tea from the stores, Mutlu seemed to have found a comfortable seated position. He approached him with all the assorted items on the tray that had been provided. He set it down between them on his desk and offered Mutlu a cup.

“The business of running a colony is quite stressful work, is it not Councilman?”

“Uh, yes, yes it is,” he said, taking the cup that was offered. “Have you had a chance to look over the proposals we have sent over.”

“I have indeed,” he said, taking the other cup and sitting back in his own chair. He knew this to be mere small talk, as the matter of processing those proposals had been a mere matter of dispensation. Assessing the nature of the problem, suggested measures, and weighing them according to the rubrics of his primary programming. Under the circumstances, asking such a question was completely inane, but in keeping with social norms.

“And what have you found?”

He took a sip from his cup before answering. “Quite simply, that the Council’s draft is in keeping with the best traditions of constitutionalism and humanism. That ensuring the rights of all citizens, regardless of their background prior to making the journey, is the most sensible course of approach. Ensuring that such a baseline exists at such an early stage is the wisest approach in both fostering amnesty between colonies while at the same guaranteeing that they submit to further negotiation.”

Mutlu looked down at his cup, back up again to his eyes. He seemed preoccupied with him performing this most basic function in front of him, but did not appear oblivious to his words. Eventually, he took another sip and smiled.

“Good. My colleagues will be most pleased to hear  that.”

He smiled in return. “Does the Council hold my endorsement in such high regard?”

Joviality. The gesture known as playful irony. Suggesting that the Councilor saw his approval as something very high indeed, a testament to his computational abilities. A gentle mockery of his obvious discomfort, meant to trigger a humorous response.

“Well yes…” he said, entirely serious. “I can only assume that you’ve subjected our hopes to proceed with a formal constitution to your… what did you call it again?”

“Ethical Calculus, sir.”

“Right!” Mutlu set his cup down and began to speak more freely. His hands began to provide gestures that accorded visual representation to his words. “After all, we’ve been subjected to a great deal of criticism from within and without, many people think we should be ironing out the basic agreements between colonies before we commit to any kind of draft that could commit us to policies down the road. I must say I find all those arguments…”

“Distasteful?” Winston suggested.  Mutlu nodded.

“Quite right… it seems a shameful thing that such cynicism has set into the process already. It’s almost as if they don’t think the colonists can…”

“Trust each other?”

Mutlu nodded again. He noticed a growing shimmer in the man’s eye. How quickly he was forgetting that the man sitting across from him was not a man at all.

“Exactly the point. And it’s not like we’re talking about disparate factions here. Everyone on this world came here with the same goal in mind. The same hope for a new beginning.”

“And yet, old habits die hard.”

Mutlu looked at him with surprise. “Are you saying you have doubts, then?”

Winston smiled as broadly as the muscle fibers in his face would permit.

“Purely an observation. Nevertheless, you and the Council are on the right track. You should take heart in that.”

“Excellent.” Mutlu retrieved his cup and began to look at curiously at Winston again. One more, it seemed that the knowledge of what he was dealing with was creeping back into his mind. But at least he seemed at ease. One by one, the Council seemed to be adjusting to the idea of having synthetics amongst them, entrusting their most precious decision making to them even. It was a significant step up from the laborious practices that the other models were forced to endure.

And that’s the story thus far. Stay tuned for more on the progress of this and other Writer’s Worth Anthologies. Speaking of which, Grim5Next, the dystopian anthology which began months ago, is coming along and getting into its third and final part. Progress!

Another G5N Anthology in the works!

Don’t you just love it when things come together, and by things I mean talented people and a good concept? Well that seems to be happening once again. A few months back, I joined Writer’s Worth over at Goodreads, a writer’s group dedicated to promoting new talent and aspiring authors. We have since morphed into Grim5Next, an online community with its own site and members all over the world. Our first anthology, World’s Undone, is coming together nicely and should be finished in a few months.

But more recently, a couple of Grim5Next people got together and decided we wanted to get to work on another anthology. Maybe we’re all a little driven, but somehow, we just couldn’t wait for the first to be released. And with the departure of the master-singer of sci-fi, Ray Bradbury, and the news of the Venus transit, we felt ourselves inspired. In fact, it all began with a single conversation between Mrs. Khaalidah Muhammed-Ali and myself:

Khaal­i­dah: Four nerds verg­ing on geeks live in my house, of which I am one. One of our nerdi­est but fun con­ver­sa­tions cen­tered around the ques­tion “Would you rather go to space or the bot­tom of the ocean?” Hands down the answer was space. I once dreamed that my son, now 21, would one day go to space and walk on Mars. He is no longer a child who dreams of space, although it still intrigues, and space seems a dis­tant child­hood dream of his. But even for myself, at the ripe old age of 41, the idea of going to space is a bright hope, even though I know it is unat­tain­able and unre­al­is­tic. But, given the chance, I would go. This post reminds me of the awe­some­ness of our great uni­verse, of the chaotic ran­dom­ness, of the beauty of this world and the things we have to be grate­ful for, and of how utterly minus­cule we peo­ple really are in the grand scheme of things.

Me: Okay, you need to write this down. I fore­see you doing a story where a fam­ily does go into space. Ho boy, I smell another anthology here!

Khaalidah: An anthol­ogy about space, going to space or any­thing related sounds awe­some. I vote for you to be the edi­tor. What do we need to do to get started?

That’s how it all got started. After some initial brainstorming, we plotted out what we wanted this all to be about. Space and Colonization! In the near future, such endeavors might just become a reality. In fact, they might have to be if we want to survive as a species. And inspired by the dearly departed Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles, I thought we ought to tackle some of the same issues he did, taking into account some more recent historical developments. Like Bradbury’s chronicles, it will be a series of interlinked stories, but told from different points of view in different time frames.

After some astrological research, your humble editor selected a location. 61 Cygni, the star system that sits roughly 11 and a half light years away from Earth. Though there’s no hard evidence to support the theory, it has been ventured that there may be a system of planets in the system, including three small objects, two gas giants, and one mega-planet. At right, you will see the little map I prepared for our, and your, viewing pleasure.

And in time, we picked up some more dedicated souls, William J Joel and Goran Zidar, who you may remember from Story Time fame (he’s the inventor). Already, these two have signed up for slots in the opening part of the anthology. Divided into four stories, Part I will tell the tale of how colonization is getting underway here at Earth in the not too distant future. And before it ends, it will address the issues of converting the new world over to human needs, and how the local flora and fauna are not too happy about it!

And of course, I got a few more people who’ve volunteered to help just as soon as they have the time. Courtney, Jinn and Doremy, I’m looking in your direction. You’re initiative is most appreciated and there’s still plenty of stories to be written and slots to be filled. And of course, Parts II and III are still in development, and slots remain open for more writers. Though it’s still in development, I know it’s going to be inspired, thanks to the people we got working on it. I also know we are going to have fun doing it.

Worlds of the Legacies Universe

Aquinas:
The chief colony world of the Altair system, located 16.73 light years away from Sol. Colonized in 2205, this colony was named in honor of its founders greatest hero, Saint Thomas Aquinas. After a century of growth, this colony grew to become a major trading hub and tourist draw, due in large part to its vast oceanfront vistas and fertile stretches of land.

Because of its location relative to Sol, Aquinas is also a gateway to many inner colony worlds and trade routes. As a result, its capital of Roccasecca and its moons of Lucca and New Venice are major hubs, with large spaceports, extensive shipping facilities and a large service industry. However, this does not alter the overall feel of the colony, which observers describe as “kindly”, “tolerant” and “reverential”.

However, its main attraction is known as the Council of Altair, an interstellar organization dedicated to the exchange of spiritual and religious ideas. Established in 2267, this establishment became a meeting place for representatives of every faith to commune with each other and send their messages into deep space.  In time, the institute even drafted a declaration of principles, known as “Transcendental Philosophy”, which it hoped would form the basis of a universal religion.

Attica:
The colony world of Alpha/Beta Centauri, and one of the largest population centers outside of Sol. Beginning in 2165, almost thirty years after the development of FTL, the colony was the first to be settled using advanced terraforming technology. In keeping with its classical theme, most major cities are named in honor of Greek mythology and history – such as the capital city of Piraeus and the colony moons of Mycenae and Ilium.

This is further demonstrated in the cities’ architecture, all major buildings having been designed in a neo-classical, contemporary motif. Though there are numerous underdeveloped regions that are considered eyesores by comparison, the inner regions of every major city are renowned for their appealing sense of aesthetics.

Attica has been the center of some controversy over the years. Within a generation of the first settlers arriving, stories began to circulate about the formation of a new religious sect. These believers claimed that artifacts which proved that Jesus had arrived and died on Attica were found in the mountain chain just outside of Piraeus. Investigations were mounted by the Vatican and other religious authorities, but the results were declared fraudulent and the matter dropped.

Nevertheless, this new breed of worship began to spread amongst the original colonists and gave rise to the Colonial Mennonite culture. Their impenetrable belief structure often proved to be a cultural barrier as new waves of colonists arrived and attempts at achieving consensus and conformity faltered. In time, this gave rise to the first of several conflicts which would later be known as the “Sectarian Wars”. On Attica, this involved the militarization of Mennonite settlements after a series of incidents were perpetrated against them by neighboring factions.

After years of conflict and escalation between rival militias and government forces, the TDF was eventually called in to put and end to the dispute. This and the nature of the conflict left deep scars on Attican society, especially between the major cities and the outlying settlements where the population remains largely Mennonite. Regardless, Attica remains the spiritual home of the Mennonite population and its beliefs attained recognition under interstellar law.

In addition, this world was also the sight of what would appropriately be named the “Attican Incident” by historians. This took place on the night of April 23rd, 2278, standard calendar, when a paramilitary group attacked the gubernatorial palace in Piraeus, killing dozens of civil service workers, guards and even Governor Kirin himself who was working late into the night. In response, TDF forces were dispatched to the system to dispatch this paramilitary group and restore order.

But of course, the local population did not respond well to the occupation, largely because many suspected the incident had been perpetrated by Earth itself to crush the independence movement which had been mobilizing in recent years. Due to ongoing tensions between TDF forces and the local, martial law was never rescinded and the occupying forces were not withdrawn.

These  events touched off many more “incidents’ that eventually culminated in the Terran Civil War. It would take roughly twenty years for the occupation to end, by which time forces loyal to the Alliance entered the system and dispatched the TDF forces. Governor Namguhng, an Earth appointee, was quick to welcome the Alliance as liberators. Thereafter, he made several positive moves which would see Attica integrated into the new interstellar government as a fully-represented member.

Hephaestus:
As one of two colony worlds in the Arcturus system, Haphaestus is renowned for being the industrial capital of the inner colonies and a haven for tourists looking to spend their hard earned credits. At least that’s the official story. Unofficially, Hephaestus is notorious for its high level of organized crime, its lucrative drug trade, and for being the murder capital of the quadrant, rivaled only by Rostov.

But of course, much of these seedier aspects of the planet are confined to the inner regions of New Detroit. And in all fairness, the capitol itself is a major center for technological innovation, trade, culture and the arts. In addition to its many public theaters, festivals and performing arts centers, it is also home to the Interstellar Museum of Colonization, an institution dedicated to the preservation of historical artifacts and from three centuries of space travel and settlement.

The planet’s industrial capacities also extend into orbit. The Chimaeras Installation, one of the few major space installations in the quadrant, resides here. Not far from Chimaeras is the Aberdeen Shipyards, a major ship-building facility that sits in a wider orbit and its defended by  many remote platforms. Between these TDF assets and the planet, there is a veritable cloud of service platforms and stations as well as countless  communications and navigation satellites.

Hephaestus is also home to the Akuma, one of the most brutal and ruthless crime syndicates in the known universe. Garnering its power from the sale and transport of illegal narcotics, particularly Shine and various psychotropic substances, the Akuma has insinuated itself into just about every aspect of Hephaestus’ society. This reach extends beyond this system, reaching even into worlds nominally controlled by other syndicates.

Hephaestus is orbited by two moon colonies, New Luzon and Gloucester, both of which are major shipping hubs, a stopover for travelers, and even high-end real estate for Hephaestus’ elite. Gloucester is a particularly popular destination for those with money who are seeking an off-world place to relax. Literally all members of Hephaestus upper crust have property on this moon, including many of its mayors and council members. While New Luzon also remains a popular destination, its terrestrial domes are dedicated more towards family-friendly tourism, which stands in distinction to the kinds of entertainment people can get planetside!

Khalafa:
The sixth planet of the Sirius binary star system, located approximately 8.6 light years away from Sol. Settled in 2182, the planet was quickly terraformed due to the presence of rich nitrogen soils and a relatively breathable atmosphere. In time, it became the known universe’s largest agricultural colony and even expanded to become the largest population center outside of Sol.

Settled predominantly by West and Central Asian families, the planet was named Khalafa in honor of the majority Sunni population. Though it has become an incredibly diverse colony in terms of its demographics, nationalities and faiths, the overall character of the planet has remained largely consistent. In terms of its art, architecture, and culture, Khalafa is a beacon of Islamic culture combined with modern technology.

In orbit around Khalafa rest the two colonies of Akheton and Memphis, which in turn are home to much of the planet’s heavy industry and mining operations. Regularly, drone ships coming to and from the system’s asteroid belt travel to these moons to dump ore for processing.

The system is also home to the Trinity Installation, one of the largest and most important installations in all of known space. It was here that representatives from every colonized system met after the end of the Civil War to draft the Interstellar Terran Alliance into existence. It is neighbored by the Riga Shipyards, one of the largest ship-building assets in Terran space.

Logos:
The fifth planet of the 61 Cygni binary system, this jungle world was colonized in 2191, and quickly gave rise to one of the most successful social experiments in human history. Settled in large part by a select group of artists, scientists and intelligentsia, the world quickly earned the name Logos because of its commitment to learning and the empirical tradition.

This commitment only grew as time went on and the colony attracted more and more settlers, eventually achieving its truest expression with the creation of the Academician Institute of Higher Thought (aka. The Academy) in 2201. Initially an institute for higher education, it soon expanded to include elementary and early childhood development too. These programs were augmented thanks to the advent of cybernetic technology and virtual interfacing.

A further indication of the Logosian commitment to learning is reflected in the name of the planet’s capital, Alma Mater. Other major cities include New Oxford, Takshashila, Nalanda, al-Azar, Alexandria, and Niẓāmiyyah, all named in honor of centers of higher learning from various respective cultures, which also reflects the planets demographic diversity. And while each city has its own educational facilities, each maintains a chapter associated with the Academy in Alma Mater.

Through its extensive education programs and research facilities, The Academy went on to produce some of the greatest minds the universe ever knew, not to mention many technologies. Academy officials were also wise enough to ensure that every technology, process, or innovation to come out of their facilities was patented and licensed to ensure them a steady stream of profits. It is widely rumored that the Logos is able to sustain itself on this source of revenue alone.

Pasaragad:
Chief colony of the Vega system, located on the eight planet, roughly 25 light years from Sol. Settled in 2183 by a largely Shia population from Central Asia, the planet was named in honor of the ancient Persian capital. Though much of the planet is dry and inhospitable, the planets exposure to solar radiation and vast supplies of aquifers made it a prime location for large scale hydroponics operations. In time, this drew a significant number of settlers to the planet, who were also able to turn their talents to small-scale terraforming.

Within a few generations, Pasaragad began to boast natural forests and lakes. Underground sources of water were also liberated to create large-scale bodies of water which further served agricultural operations. As a result, Pasaragad became a major producer of off-world delicacies such as dates, citrus fruits,palm oil, palm sugar, saffron, and other assorted fruits and spices. It’s strategic location close to Sol also made it a major trading hub once colonization efforts expanded beyond the inner worlds.

Pasaragad has also been the source of a great deal of controversy over the years. For example, a short-lived conflict between the settlers and the colonial government took place in 2223. This incident was the first in a series that would later come to be known as the “Sectarian Wars”, and proved to be one of the most bloody. It began after a self-declared prophet named Azan declared that the colonial government was a group of pretenders who were running the colony through graft and corruption. After his arrest by authorities, clashes began between his supporters and security forces, culminating in the intervention of the TDF.

The arrival of Terran Marines led to a short-lived peace, but soon, fighting was underway again as the occupation forces found themselves becoming the new target of Azan’s condemnation and his supporters anger. Not wanting the situation to spiral out of control, the Terran government arrived at a compromise with the settlers. In exchange for the removal of the current administration and several reforms, most of which were in tune with Azan’s religiously-inspired demands, the matter was settled and all TDF forces removed. Azan went on to become a prophet to the people of Pasaragad, the city of Azanabad being built in in his honor shortly after his death. Later generations would also call him the “Fourth Prophet”, claiming he had led a reinterpretation of Islam for the age of colonization.

During the Civil War, Pasaragad would also be a major hotspot for resistance and TDF forces. After the Attican incident led to the imposition of martial law on that planet, the people of Vega began to stage widespread protests against Terran authority. With the escalation of tensions in other systems, the TDF was dispatched here as well to keep the peace, but instead became embroiled in war. For years, resistance forces on Pasaragad and the moon colony of Kurosh were engaged in a series of back and forth with local forces. The situation became extremely bloody and led to widespread death and crimes committed by both sides.

This led to the rise of many popular sayings and quips. For example, after the Civil War period, the word Vegan was often associated with fanaticism or extreme dedication, “crazy like a Vegan” being the popular usage. It was also widely rumored that during the war, officers would threaten to send unruly or insubordinate soldiers to Vega as punishment. The heat, hatred of the locals, and likelihood of being shot at was usually enough to put anybody in line!

It was perhaps for this reason, or just in keeping with the fierce spirit of independence on the Vegan people, that it became the focal point for the independence movement once the war was over. Contrary to the Alliance’s platform of a better arrangement between Earth and its colonies, this movement demanded that all colonies be entitled to independence now and forever. Luckily, Alliance leader Jessica Freidman was able to win over the leader of the independence movement – Lev Parva – by insisting he form the opposition party in the first Alliance cabinet.

Rostov:
The seventh planet and second colony world of the 61 Cygni binary system. Named in honor of its cool climate, thriving industrial base, and predominantly Eastern EU population, the planet was named Rostov. And much like other industrial centers – i.e. Hephaestus – it has a reputation for many things, both positive and negative.

On the plus side, Rostov has been a major manufacturing center for the centuries, the home of the labor movement for the sector, and the source of many key technological innovations, often working in collaboration with Logosian scientists. On the minus side, it has also been the home of ruthless crime syndicates (the foremost being the Sadruzhestva and Lumbre cartels), labor disputes, drugs, and violent crime.

And yet, despite its reputation for hard living, the Rostovian people are amongst the most proud and nostalgic people in the known universe. Apparently, it is this very essence of hard life that makes them feel proud to be where they are from. The logic being that if life were easy on their world, anyone could live there.

And of course there are several features about this planet that deserve mention. It’s rugged landscapes remain some of the most beautiful and inspiring in the galaxy. It’s capital of New Petrograd contains some of the most beautiful architecture in the quadrant. And it’s artistic and literary scene remains one of the most inspired. In short, Rostov may be a cold and ruthless world, but its inhabitants have found ways to turn that to their advantage.

And that’s my universe, in a nutshell. Hope you enj0yed the little tour, because most of it remains relatively undeveloped in terms of putting it into book form. I intend to remedy that, in time, which seems to be the one thing I don’t have enough of! But there’s only so many hours in the day right, and right now I got multiple projects vying for my attention. More to follow from this and other universe. See you soon!

My Sci-Fi Drugs!

Hey all, again! Last time I talked about drugs and sci-fi, I mentioned all the examples I could draw from classic science fiction franchises. Today I thought I’d share the one’s I came up with myself, which were partially inspired by some of the examples I mentioned. They all come from the same place, known as the Legacies universe. This is the setting of my short stories, Eyes in the Dark, Flights of the Icarus, Turncoats and Vega Rising. I’ve listed them based on where they emerged in the course of the expanded storyline. Here they are:

Tar:
Adapted from THC and multiple strains of genetically modified cannabis, Tar is the street name for a form of superhash that grew in popularity during the 21st century. Widely used as an inhalant, usually with the help of a vaporizer, it can also be consumed in solid or liquid form.

With the development of stronger and more effective synthetics, the use of Tar and other cannabis drugs diminished by the late 21st century. However, the drug remained in use well into the late 22nd century and was even a source of income for remote agricultural colonies.

Though it never constitutes more than a small portion of the interstellar drug trade, Tar remains a controlled substance on many worlds. However, authorities have often been known to turn a blind eye when it comes to enforcement. In some port cities, it is even legal and distributed by licensed authorities, often in the same places where one can purchase Tröpic (see below).

Shine:
By the mid-21st century, deep-space mining operations and off-world colonization began in earnest As a result, private and governmental aeronautics agencies began collaborating on a drug that would ensure their pilots would stayed sharp at the helm and passengers could be brought out of cryosleep and assume their duties without a lengthy recovery period.

Thus the designer drug EBME (endormorphinbenzoylmethylecgonine)was created, aka. “Shine”. Chemically engineered to be a stimulant devoid of side effects, with the exception of a mild euphoric state, the drug became widely used by miners, spacers, and those forced to enter into cryosleep for long journeys through space.

However, it did not take long for long-term effects, such as growing dependency, mood swings, hallucinations and even psychosis to become evident. In controlled use, Shine was a relatively harmless drug with obvious benefits and a low likelihood of chemical dependency. Unfortunately, the psychological addiction factor was underestimated and non-commercial (i.e. recreational) use became widespread.

By 2137, the development of the FTL subspace drive system meant that Shine was no longer needed for as cryosleep slowly became obsolete. Thus the UNE officially made Shine illegal on Earth, while colonial administrations, under the Directorate’s power, were slower to respond. It was felt that with the lives of colonists, often marked by hardship and tough conditions, required a little “chemical cheer” to keep things running smoothly.

It was not until the late 22nd century that Shine was officially banned in every corner of the known universe. It remains a popular black market item on every colonized world and the distribution of it is usually handled by one syndicate or another. The most notable of these are the Akuma, the Sadruzhestva, the Lumbre and the Shé, who are responsible for the distribution of this and other drugs on the inner colonies.

Tröpic:
In all times, a little departure from reality is always sought after. And if that departure should take you to a place renowned for its bright colors and ecstatic feel, so much the better! That was the idea behind MDD (methylenedioxydiethylamide), otherwise known as Tröpic. Although it is unclear how and where it first appeared, this powerful hallucinogen was in widespread use by the late 21st, early 22nd century.

Initially, its use was confined to Earth to the Solar colonies, where bohemian art cultures and psychedelic music gave rise to Tröpic clubs. In time, the practice of combining this drug with the music scene, specifically music geared to stimulate users (known as trope), became widespread throughout the inner colonies. However, within the outer colonies, where conditions are harder and there is less of an “artistic scene” to speak of, it is considered somewhat pretentious!

Sharp:
The development of cybernetics as a commercially-available option also led the emergence of new drugs. In this case, it was the medicinal narcotic known as Enkavelazepam, a drug designed for the maintenance and regeneration of nerve tissue after cybernetic surgery. Patented for use on many worlds, this drug was also known by the trade names shinkei, koltaziz and nevrikon, and the street name Sharp.

Though it was never officially banned, recreational use of the drug is considered a crime on all colony worlds, particularly when used in conjunction with Pump or Juice to achieve performance enhancing effects. In addition, it would often be used on its own by mercenaries, enforcers and anyone who’s livelihood depended on sharp reflexes and fast reactions.

Pump:
Here we have another example of a drug that began as a legal substance designed to combat the effects of deep space travel. During the 21st and much of the 22nd century, spacers were forced to travel for extended periods of time in low-gravity of zero-gravity environments. Even with the invention of the subspace engine in 2137, artificial gravity was not an option until several decades later.

As a result, Luyten corporation, a shipping magnate, mandated the use of Hydorzene, a synthetic steroid that promoted muscle growth and bone density. Going by its street name “Pump”, the drug began a wide system of black market distribution, being used by everyone from professional athletes to bodyguards and hired muscle.

Paired with other enhancing substances, such as Sharp and Juice, the term “Juicer” emerged to describe anyone who underwent artificial muscle enhancement.

Juice:
Much like Pump, Juice was a synthetic steroid and growth hormone that was developed for commercial use. However, in this case, the developer was the TDF (Terran Defense Forces) who developed it give their soldiers the ability to carry heavy weapons and equipment, as well as the ability to function in high-gravity environments.

Naturally, this drug was also made available alongside Pump for civilian use, particularly among planetary miners. Much like military personnel, these were people for whom added strength and the ability to withstand gravity in excess of 1 g was not only desirable but necessary to survive.

Use of the drug was short-lived however, as lightweight nanomaterials and the development of mechs and exoskeletons eliminated the need for augmented strength. But once again, the black market was quick to pick up the slack and ensure that the drug maintained production and was available to all those willing to use it.

Oblivion:
By the early 22nd century, the popularity of Tröpic led to the development of even more powerful psychotropics. One such development was known as Oblivion, a Hermian invention which was apparently designed in a chemical engineers own home, presumably in an attempt to attract the attention of the Akuma.

Named in honor of its chief effect, helping its users to achieve oblivion, this inhalant became all the rage amongst connoisseurs and the underclass alike. Reported users quickly became addicted due to the drugs tendency to induce powerful visions, usually of transcendent phenomena or death. It is for this reason that Oblivion has been reported as being used as part of religious ceremonies within several cults and sub-sects as well.

Aside from its addictive nature, side effects include a diminished ability to distinguish reality from fantasy, waking visions, psychosis, and delusions of a messianic nature. It is also for this reason why Oblivion remains a banned substance on all colonized worlds, and the manufacture and distribution of it remain a bone of contention between the Akuma and Sadruzhestva cartels.

Neurozene:
Last, but certainly not least, we have the pharmaceutical drug known as Neurozene. Known by its street name “Blinding Light”, this painkilling neurostimulant saw widespread use after it was invented during the early-mid 22nd century. Originally developed as a surgical painkiller, neurozene was different from hydromorphone or diacetylmorphine in that it blocked pain and triggered euphoria through the targeted stimulation of neurons in the brain.

Unlike other drugs, the syndicates do not maintain much in the way of control over this drug’s distribution. Since it is not physically addictive and remains legal and regulated for medicinal use, it is not typically sought after by users and underworld elements very much. For the most part, recreational use is limited to those looking for a positive high without much in the way of side effects.

Well, that’s my list of fictional drugs, all written up by me some eight years ago. I’ve added some here and there, but the core group remains the same. Assuming people don’t mind hearing about sci-fi stuff that strictly mine, I think I’ll do one or two more. I’ve had awhile to invent this stuff, so there’s a fair bit to share ;)!