Dear readers who are not there, here is a question that does not matter to anyone but you and I:
I am putting these stories into a book and wonder if I should leave them online? Moreover, should this blog exist at all? In what form if I cannot write what I want to write, in other words stories? I invite your comments.
Who is the one who is reading me now?
Beyond infinity: Art / Twenty to One / Quire to Ream / Words and Images
8 is the longest letterform
Arranged and Rearranged
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Sunday, March 09, 2008
After a month of inactivity, major changes coming soon
It's been a roller coaster, having gone on strong for 18 months onlyto have a publisher reject me not because the material was deficient but because they consider this humble little blog qualifies as 'previously published,' I can't believe it, this pebble of a site on the limitless seashore of the internet which hasn't even racked up 1000 visits (likely the same 6 people) qualifies as published? What was the name of the planet the web programmer said he or she was from? You know, the gal or guy who wrote the bot which crawled the web and found my submitted story...and then summarily rejected it since it was, in fact published; but only in the most narrow minded, insensitive and unapplicably-in-the-real-world sense of the word.
What to do? I don't what it to happen again but on the other hand I've missed giving my fiction away for free to my 6 readers, what to do? Tell you what, I'll keep writing the stuff offline, what gets rejected by publishers can end up here, fragments and ideas can go here, from now on however I cannot in good faith post finished stories here until they're been rejected by somebody somewhere.
Nothing ever finishes, nothing.
What to do? I don't what it to happen again but on the other hand I've missed giving my fiction away for free to my 6 readers, what to do? Tell you what, I'll keep writing the stuff offline, what gets rejected by publishers can end up here, fragments and ideas can go here, from now on however I cannot in good faith post finished stories here until they're been rejected by somebody somewhere.
Nothing ever finishes, nothing.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
A new game.
Friends can play a new game! With enhanced reality hardware and tools, friends can leave their memories of places virtually in several european cities for their friends to find. Originally a mashup of google maps and GPS technology. The latest offering boasts immersive 3D enhanced moments which load automatically into HTC or Nokia visorphones (other OEMs coming on board soon) so stay tuned for the latest updates!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
It doesn't always come to you.
"Hello Johnny, why do you want to attend our 'business for teens' class this year?"
"I've always been interested in the stock market but I could only talk to my dad about it, my friends aren't into business. I wanna meet other teens who're into having ideas and making money."
"Are you prepared to work hard? We have a lot of ground to cover, we'll be making a general introductory survey of all areas of business; managerial finance, human resources, logistics, to name a few off the top of my head."
"I'm prepared, I don't know enough to know what I'll like or not, I'd like to think I'll enjoy finding out."
"Thank you Johnny, we'll let you know our decision by the 15th."
"Thank you."
"I've always been interested in the stock market but I could only talk to my dad about it, my friends aren't into business. I wanna meet other teens who're into having ideas and making money."
"Are you prepared to work hard? We have a lot of ground to cover, we'll be making a general introductory survey of all areas of business; managerial finance, human resources, logistics, to name a few off the top of my head."
"I'm prepared, I don't know enough to know what I'll like or not, I'd like to think I'll enjoy finding out."
"Thank you Johnny, we'll let you know our decision by the 15th."
"Thank you."
The man consumed by a disembodied hive mind.
I still remember the terror I felt as I was cornered by the collective and absorbed.
I found my personality remained distinct, only my perception of the world changed: now under my theoretically total control.
One day on a beach created by consensual hallucination, I let myself dissolve into the manufactured moment.
I became the sunshine.
I spent three weeks on that day.
Had I known how burdensome a body is to a man sooner, I would have welcomed the collective from birth.
I found my personality remained distinct, only my perception of the world changed: now under my theoretically total control.
One day on a beach created by consensual hallucination, I let myself dissolve into the manufactured moment.
I became the sunshine.
I spent three weeks on that day.
Had I known how burdensome a body is to a man sooner, I would have welcomed the collective from birth.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
This is the end
This concludes B8A as a short fiction site. Having recently had a short story rejected for having already been published (on this blog) B8A has decided to collect the best stories from B8A into one volume and repurpose B8A to mobile blogging as the literary equivalent of a sketchbook: story ideas and fragments to be developed later (sadly, off-line).
It was a great almost two years, thank you for reading, special thanks to everyone who contributed comments.
Regards, B8A
It was a great almost two years, thank you for reading, special thanks to everyone who contributed comments.
Regards, B8A
This is a mobile blog
This is a simple sentence. This is a sentence whose subordinate clause is relative and defining. Is this a question?
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
The Yawn
So I don't look out I just let myself look beyond and let the furthest place be next door and beginning to swell under a giant's spell and bigger than your own pocket universe and the eyeless mouths and mouthless eyes with teethless fingers and earless palms and I sometimes miss the early days.
The best and the brightest of my generation have vanished.
Not even left raving mad on the streets naked.
It's a really neat trick, to yawn.
When all this is going on.
The best and the brightest of my generation have vanished.
Not even left raving mad on the streets naked.
It's a really neat trick, to yawn.
When all this is going on.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Header One
He picked up his newspaper and hardly noticed the blank sections and vacant photographs. News he wasn't meant to know and didn't care to. His coffee was hot and fine. The November weather crisp yet comfortable.
He arrived at his semi-annual checkup a little early. While he waited, he took a call on his phone. Speaking into the air with someone from work. The caller apologized, he'd forgotten why he'd called, he'd see him later at the office and tell him then, if he remembered.
The Clinic monitored all network traffic as a matter of course. Too many terrorist attacks. The doctor watched a graphic representation of their conversation, noted where the enhanced reality plug-ins erased the unpleasant information from the conversation in real time.
"Now there's one last thing." The Doctor pressed a key on his Module controller.
"Doctor? What have you done?"
"Mr Harway, I'm required to deactive your bad-news guard twice a year to confirm that you want to leave it on."
With horror, Mr. Harway's eyes widened as every piece of bad news he'd received in the last six months came smashing into his conscious awareness in a mad rushing tide.
"Turn it on! Turn it on!"
"How do you feel, Mr Harway?"
"Oh, fine, thank you, everything alright, see you in six months?"
The doctor nodded.
He arrived at his semi-annual checkup a little early. While he waited, he took a call on his phone. Speaking into the air with someone from work. The caller apologized, he'd forgotten why he'd called, he'd see him later at the office and tell him then, if he remembered.
The Clinic monitored all network traffic as a matter of course. Too many terrorist attacks. The doctor watched a graphic representation of their conversation, noted where the enhanced reality plug-ins erased the unpleasant information from the conversation in real time.
"Now there's one last thing." The Doctor pressed a key on his Module controller.
"Doctor? What have you done?"
"Mr Harway, I'm required to deactive your bad-news guard twice a year to confirm that you want to leave it on."
With horror, Mr. Harway's eyes widened as every piece of bad news he'd received in the last six months came smashing into his conscious awareness in a mad rushing tide.
"Turn it on! Turn it on!"
"How do you feel, Mr Harway?"
"Oh, fine, thank you, everything alright, see you in six months?"
The doctor nodded.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Typur Wen and Pose Rem
Typur Wen works one day out of every 30, even then it is only for 12 minutes. He gets on to his workstation and completes a 14 hour day in 12 minutes, his overclocked brain steaming from the strain.
Pose Rem is a Zship pilot. Jockeying cargo between Earth and its few and far flung colonies. They make an effort to meet in person, an anachronism but they are very old men, though no one could tell just by looking at them. Recently Pose has become concerned about his friend, he's been disappearing lately, vanishing into the air.
What's worse is that Ty is in total denial about the fact. His work online has fragmented his awareness of reality so deeply he cannot consider the disappearances any more than holes in his memory, expected artifacts of his job, for which he is handsomely rewarded. A real time trader in the 22nd century has an unaugmented operational lifespan of 40 years, Ty has already surpassed this number. Unaware of this fact himself (having deliberately deleted it from his mind) he has attracted quiet attention for his resilience to ego disintegration. Pose worries for him. He's unknowingly pushing boundaries of interpenetration that have never been succesfully pushed before.
Worse, Ty is beginning to behave like Pose's second-in-command, a secret in the Zship command structure known only to Pilots and Captains in the industry. A secret so explosive it could destroy space commerce forever.
Unknown to the politicians who authorize space travel, the second in command of a Zship, the sentient thing responsible for the awesome transportional effect of the Zship, is nothing more than a highly modified horse. The fiercely forbidden result of banned experiments in the 21st century into genetically augmented life. Swimming in a neo-natal synthetic solution, wired up hardline for maximum transmission velocity. These creature only superficially look like swimming horses. Their eyes betray them, they are aware of what they do, thankfully they enjoy it. Else it would be the wantonly cruel imprisonment of a thinking lifeform, they cannot live outside their delicately calibrated environments. Except when they travel in n-space.
Who designed them is a further mystery that Pose doesn't know and doesn't want to die finding out. What he does know is that at the height of a long jump through space and backwards in relative time, the 'seconds' disappear.
Just like Ty does. Only the 'seconds' know where they go and what they do when they get there to get the Zship back into normal space and in position around some distant colony planet. Pose doesn't understand the Unruh-Minkowski equations well enough to grasp the subtleties but essentially the 'seconds' know a place in n-space where it's easier to move the universe around the ship rather than move the ship around the universe.
The secret of their success is in where they go and what they do when they get there. The 'seconds' have been asked about it but their answers don't make sense, language wasn't designed to handle hyperdimensional cubes of 54 faces.
Pose suspects that Ty is lying to him, that he does know where he goes. Pose wonders if Ty will take the tracking pill he gave him this afternoon. Then he could be tracked by his 'second' in the Arcturus. Either way it will mean something, won't it?
Imagine! A man that can move the universe just like a sythetic 'second' only half in this reality from the outset! Where couldn't he go? What couldn't he do?
Who will try to kill him first?
Pose Rem is a Zship pilot. Jockeying cargo between Earth and its few and far flung colonies. They make an effort to meet in person, an anachronism but they are very old men, though no one could tell just by looking at them. Recently Pose has become concerned about his friend, he's been disappearing lately, vanishing into the air.
What's worse is that Ty is in total denial about the fact. His work online has fragmented his awareness of reality so deeply he cannot consider the disappearances any more than holes in his memory, expected artifacts of his job, for which he is handsomely rewarded. A real time trader in the 22nd century has an unaugmented operational lifespan of 40 years, Ty has already surpassed this number. Unaware of this fact himself (having deliberately deleted it from his mind) he has attracted quiet attention for his resilience to ego disintegration. Pose worries for him. He's unknowingly pushing boundaries of interpenetration that have never been succesfully pushed before.
Worse, Ty is beginning to behave like Pose's second-in-command, a secret in the Zship command structure known only to Pilots and Captains in the industry. A secret so explosive it could destroy space commerce forever.
Unknown to the politicians who authorize space travel, the second in command of a Zship, the sentient thing responsible for the awesome transportional effect of the Zship, is nothing more than a highly modified horse. The fiercely forbidden result of banned experiments in the 21st century into genetically augmented life. Swimming in a neo-natal synthetic solution, wired up hardline for maximum transmission velocity. These creature only superficially look like swimming horses. Their eyes betray them, they are aware of what they do, thankfully they enjoy it. Else it would be the wantonly cruel imprisonment of a thinking lifeform, they cannot live outside their delicately calibrated environments. Except when they travel in n-space.
Who designed them is a further mystery that Pose doesn't know and doesn't want to die finding out. What he does know is that at the height of a long jump through space and backwards in relative time, the 'seconds' disappear.
Just like Ty does. Only the 'seconds' know where they go and what they do when they get there to get the Zship back into normal space and in position around some distant colony planet. Pose doesn't understand the Unruh-Minkowski equations well enough to grasp the subtleties but essentially the 'seconds' know a place in n-space where it's easier to move the universe around the ship rather than move the ship around the universe.
The secret of their success is in where they go and what they do when they get there. The 'seconds' have been asked about it but their answers don't make sense, language wasn't designed to handle hyperdimensional cubes of 54 faces.
Pose suspects that Ty is lying to him, that he does know where he goes. Pose wonders if Ty will take the tracking pill he gave him this afternoon. Then he could be tracked by his 'second' in the Arcturus. Either way it will mean something, won't it?
Imagine! A man that can move the universe just like a sythetic 'second' only half in this reality from the outset! Where couldn't he go? What couldn't he do?
Who will try to kill him first?
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