Warning. The following publications may induce intense reasoning.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

An Eternal Nemesis

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The human life span is estimated at between one and one and a third Earth millennium. Over a thousand years of passion, knowledge, and the will to grow and expand into the vast universe. Humanity, although it is now a unity of several different species, have not stirred away from their original cause. The unveiling of the great unknown.

A war of unprecedented scale had begun anew, now that the enemy chose their new leader. Commander Tuk Am Lai Pal of the Gan Is Is Me Is dynasty. The greatest strategist the universe had ever born. A creature of such vast intellect and keen intuition, that it is considered to be a worthy foe, even by the brilliant Commander Kall of planet Tailtwo, the leader of the human Coalition.

"Captin," a voice crackled in the Command Hall of Greatness, inside the most technologically advanced spacecraft of the Coalition, the Fist of Power. "Captain Kall?" It repeated.

"I am here, Sergeant. Speak," the commander ordered.

"A fleet of Unspeakables had been identified," the voice paused and then added, "and I cannot tell where they are headed, Sir."

The Captain looked back at his General Advisor. The duty of the 'advisor to the captain' was to warn of any dangers that any line of action may present. The advisor nodded, grimly, knowing that they had no other choice, but to follow the guidelines.

"You know what to do, Sergeant," the Captain answered. "Prepare the fleet in defensive positions, and scramble to nine. I will let you choose our method, once you know more."

The Captain turned back, and marched away from the hall. He would not let a bunch of nonsensical Unspeakables disturb his work, on the Board of Action. A team of educated and heavily experienced sergeants was already expecting him there, to confirm their plan. He had to make sure it was a good plan. The enemy would not let them fail, and enjoy a safe retreat.

The future is sillier than you ever imagined!
"It is the war of the century," said Markolas. His hair a monument of defiance, standing straight up on his scalp, held by the majestic force of magnetism. Magnetic hair was the fashion. "It is the war that no one will ever remember!" He exclaimed, and recanted, "I mean forget! Never forget!"

"Forget?" Asked Salastyan. In pure contrast to his party, Salastyan was tall, black skinned, and bald. "Forget? Are you..."

"Never! The Unspeakables at war! Can you even imagine that?"

"No, that is exactly why..."

"Exactly! It is unimaginable! Can you even start to comprehend the meaning..." Markolas trailed on, his mind already shifting away from the war. His mind, like a bird at flight, flying across the great oceans; never waiting for others.

"If the war is so great, then why do you not join it?" Asked Salastyan under a frown, now slightly irritated.

"Join?" Markolas asked, not hiding his despise at such an idea. "Join, ha! I have no time for games. I am a philosopher," he said, as if it was a perfectly reasonable counter.

"They do have philosophers in the Coalition," retorted Salastyan. "They have got all sorts. You do not even have to actually kill anything, to be a part of their crusade."

"Crusade? Do not make me laugh, Salastious."

"It is Salas..."

"My friend," Markolas interrupted, or rather, did not let the other's interruption interfere. "I am no thug. I have no desire to scream in battle, as I murder my fellow creatures. My fellow intellectual partners." He turned, as if searching for an example, and then found one. He pointed, rudely, at a near by Unspeakable. The Unspeakable, a creature beyond the measure of any physical domain; a creature which simply cannot be described in any way, or even proximity, stared back. Markolas shivered, visibly, and lowered his hand.

"Yeah," Salastyan drawled the vowels and smiled, "your fellow. I can see that." He did not turn to look at the Unspeakable. His intuition revealed to him that it is most likely that their 'fellow' was busy talking to another being, not even a creature; not even of their own space or time.

This is a new science-fiction satire series. Please check back shortly, for new and exciting episodes!

Saturday, April 12, 2014

From Alien Versus Creditor

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In the material recycling department of SciGen Incorporated, Cyril hid in a dumpster. The dumpster was very clean, other than the accumulating dust, and so the array of rejected pills seemed safe enough to eat.

There were pills of many colors and shapes, and Cyril enjoyed all of them. But, most of all, he enjoyed the small red and white pills that tasted like sugar, and were not chewy.

"Ferring soft pills," he murmured, and spat out an odd purple pill that was unfamiliar to him. "Ferring facilities and their inventions. Can't they just make more tasty pills?" He asked no one in particular.

"Who's there?" The voice of an older man echoed.

"Shit," Cyril whispered to himself, and tried to hide in a corner. The container opened from its' top lid, and the old hairless man stared directly at Cyril.

"What are you," the old man began, but Cyril was already jumping through the open container, and back to the dumpster hall. Without pause, he ran to the back door, from whence he came, and disappeared into the streets, where only the night, cats, and the occasional deployment vehicle roamed.

These were not real public streets, but the streets within the SciGen industrial compound. A vast maze of transportation routes, between warehouses and ever-rumbling factories. As he shifted from a jog to a regular walk, trusting the night to mask his presence, he heard a far away explosion, followed by shouts.

He could not make out the words, and the noises came from many places at once, but all from the same direction. The entrance, the front entrance, of the factory building he just escaped. He paused and tried to make sense of the scene. Some windows reflected strong lights, as if a fire was loose. Was it a machine accident?

Cyril decided to go back and check things out. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could learn something that SciGen did not want anybody else to know. Maybe, if he was lucky, he had something to gain, here.

Reaching the factory building, Cyril jumped in surprise, as a figure burst out of the top floor window, and crashed into the ground. Under the ambience of light projectors, Cyril could make out a dark haired man, in a white lab coat. He was not on fire, so why did he jump?

Cyril entered the building from the side door - another opening that he knew was unlocked, most nights. He heard noises. As if something was pounding against the walls, from the inside. As sirens began screaming, the boy knew that he had only a few minutes, before the entire platoon of guard patrol cars arrived. He was not planning on being caught by anyone. The consequences would be dire.

He approached further into the factory, and went to open another door, just as the safety mechanism kicked-in. The door locked, and heavy glass shielding began lowering, from the hollow above the door.

"What are you doing here, boy?" Cyril turned, and saw a man in uniform behind him, holding a pistol. "Come on, we have to get out of here, now! They are coming!"

Who is coming? Cyril wanted to ask, but the guard grabbed his arm, and pulled him away. Instead of going outside, as expected, the guard pulled him beyond another door. As it closed, it locked, and began lowering its' glass shielding. Cyril tensed, and felt himself sweating, with the realization that something terrible, quite more than he had imagined, was taking place.

"What is with all the explosions?" Cyril asked the guard.

"There was an accident with the test subjects. The pills killed them, and then turned them into something else," the guard hesitated. "Not human."

"Like, undead?" The boy asked.

"No," the guard stopped, and turned to look at Cyril. "Like monsters," he said, showing surprise on his face.

As they approached the other end of a storage chamber, the door behind them burst open. Through the locking mechanism and the glass shielding, which Cyril knew was much more than just simple glass. The guard started running, pulling on Cyril to speed up. Cyril had to look back, and see what it was that followed them.

It was a person in a white lab coat. Just a person. Cyril saw him jogging slowly towards them, as if nonchalantly escaping the terrors behind.

"That's odd," he said, and wondered how come bursting through the door seemed to draw no impact on the person's body. The face seemed calm, even emotionless, and there were no signs of torn clothing or blood.

"Over here," a woman guard shouted from above a short ladder. "Quickly, come up here," she said, gesturing them to hurry.

As they entered the upper chamber, the glass seal locked behind with a hiss of air pressure. Cyril looked back, and wondered what happened to that other person. He approached the seal, and looked through.

Somebody else was hurrying through a side door, into the storage chamber they had just escaped. He approached the strange lagger. Suddenly, the other jumped several meters into the air, landing on top of the newcomer, flattening him against the cement floor.

Cyril inched his eyes closer into the glassy seal, trying to make sense out of this bizarre scene. After a moment of lingering, the lab coated figure stood up, and turned to stare at the upper seal.

Cyril would have sworn, had anybody asked him, that the strange person now had a completely different face.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Narrating The Metal Monk

Download my narration of The Metal Monk by Matt Barton.

As time moves on, I find myself shifting towards recording & narration. Specifically, narration. I really enjoy telling a story! (And listening to my own sexy voice!)

Here's a short bit that I really like, which was great for me, as practice. Being a new narrator, with little experience, means that I need to find inspiration, and make an effort!

I hope you find it entertaining. :-)

The author of this one-paragraph wonder.
Click on him to visit his video-blog,
or click HERE for more one-paragraph shorts.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Violence As A Proper Method Of Social Development

Violence is popular. Everybody enjoys violence in different ways, to improve their lifestyle. From the passive-aggressive and scheming woman, to the brute and in-your-face man. Popular media is full of it! Violence is popular in games, TV, movies, and even in music, such as Rap.

Rap music is violent and successful. Rappers are rich. Filthy rich. And neither is there a politician who is not extremely violent, when it comes to facing the opposition, of those who disagree with his or her opinion. Not surprisingly, politicians are very rich, and comfortable, too.

We can also look into our conjoined histories, and see how violence had helped in creating a brilliant & safe modern world, for us today. From brave shining knights to royal and majestic kings and queens, humanity had endured hardship and disaster, only through the amazing power of violence. If it were not for those who rule by force, then quite obviously, there would be no defense against such grim odds.

"Whoa, where am I?
This must be a true adventure,
only for amazeballs knights!"
Even children love it. There is not a child out there who does not enjoy the occasional punch or kick. It is almost our first language. How else would such a small creature have its' say and stand for itself, but without the energetic force of violence.

We can only hope that it is that same violent tendency that shapes our next generation, into a fine line of mighty armed and strong willed young men and women. I see an amazing future for violence, in human culture and society!


And have a good April Fool's Day.

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