cut that last paragraph out and stick it way at the end or in the middle for a plot change...
Cartwright wandered the halls of the courthouse for days on end. There wasn't anything to accomplish, he was just doing his job. Protect the local government, downsize the threat. On a minuscule level they had no chance against attackers, the federal government was unreachable... impervious... or so the public thought.
"Step down" the page yelled at him while he daydreamed... he didn't even notice he had raised his gun... raising alarm in the vicinity. He lowered his gun and blushed sheepishly... he was there to keep the peace, not disturb it... he would surely be disciplined for this, and all because his mind wanders. He radioed in to his relief for a break and sat in the hall, gun tucked between his knees and his chest.
(...cont...)
Friday, January 26, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
The petro wars
Just sketching out some ideas I've had for Sci-Fi... since my reading tastes are starting to follow that trend, so should my writing?
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It wasn't a war. That's what every American believed, every television watching drone of the "democracy" was given excuses for what was happening, the shortage of fruit, the airlines being "on strike" all the bullshit. And the news stations, instead of doing what is constitutionally protected to them (freedom of speech) decided to flood the public with numbing information.
Then the spy drones started falling. Then the bombers starting falling from the sky. The satellites came down like rain. When the first passenger airliner landed in downtown New York; the result of a missile from an enemy plane, the public recoiled.
There were skeptics still, and people had not planned on waking from their media induced stupor... there was panic. The government wasn't concerned with peace within it's own borders anymore and hadn't planned for the chaos. All our resources were abroad, getting killed... and for what?
Oil.
In 2012 a gallon of 80 octane fuel cost nearly twenty dollars, if you could find it. The hippies knew what to do. They knew in their hearts what they needed to do. They conserved, they rationed, for them it was as life hadn't changed... it was just harder to travel long distances. For Joe Suburban, life was eradicated. If you can't drive to work, you can't work. If you can't work, how do you pay your pool boy?
The truth of the matter was this: self-interested government topples the country. We wanted oil and we didn't have it. Instead of increasing our exports and keeping friends with the countries who did, we invaded. We took before asking, and much like the child reaching for the big kid's desert, we got hit. As it turned out, the countries with oil were concerned with peace inside their countries and they were ready.
(more to come)
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It wasn't a war. That's what every American believed, every television watching drone of the "democracy" was given excuses for what was happening, the shortage of fruit, the airlines being "on strike" all the bullshit. And the news stations, instead of doing what is constitutionally protected to them (freedom of speech) decided to flood the public with numbing information.
Then the spy drones started falling. Then the bombers starting falling from the sky. The satellites came down like rain. When the first passenger airliner landed in downtown New York; the result of a missile from an enemy plane, the public recoiled.
There were skeptics still, and people had not planned on waking from their media induced stupor... there was panic. The government wasn't concerned with peace within it's own borders anymore and hadn't planned for the chaos. All our resources were abroad, getting killed... and for what?
Oil.
In 2012 a gallon of 80 octane fuel cost nearly twenty dollars, if you could find it. The hippies knew what to do. They knew in their hearts what they needed to do. They conserved, they rationed, for them it was as life hadn't changed... it was just harder to travel long distances. For Joe Suburban, life was eradicated. If you can't drive to work, you can't work. If you can't work, how do you pay your pool boy?
The truth of the matter was this: self-interested government topples the country. We wanted oil and we didn't have it. Instead of increasing our exports and keeping friends with the countries who did, we invaded. We took before asking, and much like the child reaching for the big kid's desert, we got hit. As it turned out, the countries with oil were concerned with peace inside their countries and they were ready.
(more to come)
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
"Hold... me close and hold me fast..." Louis Armstrong's recognizable voice pours over the audiophile's speakers annunciating each scratch of the record, every nuance goes unscathed; perfectly pronounced at exactly twice the volume of the original recording.
The next song on the list is a real dark one, "Piano Concerto No. 2. In A: Adagio Sostenuto Assa" a piece by Sviatoslav Richter. He cranks it up as high as the amplifier allows.
The third selection is the winner, "So What'cha Want?" composer: The Beastie Boys. The goosebumps ride his spine from bottom to top and nearly raise every hair on this head as he jumps hard up and down on the floor.
The next song on the list is a real dark one, "Piano Concerto No. 2. In A: Adagio Sostenuto Assa" a piece by Sviatoslav Richter. He cranks it up as high as the amplifier allows.
The third selection is the winner, "So What'cha Want?" composer: The Beastie Boys. The goosebumps ride his spine from bottom to top and nearly raise every hair on this head as he jumps hard up and down on the floor.
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