It is a wonder on the frailty of the state of time. You close your eyes for one minute and it is eight months later. Eight months since I have checked this thing. What has happened in those eight months.
Well. Some would call it a lot. Some wouldn't. My wife says a lot has happened. I say that it is not enough.
What has happened in that time you ask. Let me tell you. In that space and time. That blink. I have gone from working at Visions 1 hr Optical to working at Canoptic. The difference. Call it specialization. I am now working for Visions supplier.
I am also now living in the glorious city of Vancouver during the Olympics right down in spitting distance from GM place. Dear Lord, help me. I also spent 6 weeks apart from my wife during the transition from PG to Vancouver. That wasn't fun.
I haven't done enough on my writing, which is why I have been away from this blog for so long. I do have 12,000 words on another book, but my first one (see sample chapters) is sill unfinished and lacking.
Now I am about to become a dad and all I can think about is aging fucking sucks. My birthday isn't for another eight months and I already regret it and I already know the reaction I will have.
Nothing gets done, the list gets longer as that is the nature of lists and I wonder what is my purpose in life. During college I hypothetical that the sole purpose of humans beings was to pass the family genes on to the next generation. Maybe that statement was right. But now I wish there was a better, more complex mission for me. Raise the next generation. Maybe.
Try and leave my footprint in the sands of time. Maybe I can do both. I don't know.
Nathan
(These random musing of the soul is brought to you by 'Purple'. Can't find a better colour.)
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
A letter to Creative Assemble and the Video Game Industry
Dear Creative Assembly,
I am a long time Total War fan. I own Shogun Total War, Medieval Total War, Rome Total War, Medieval 2 Total War, plus most of the expansions. I predicted that the Empire Total War fiasco would happen months ago, during development. I was flamed on there forums cause if it. I knew that this would happen just by looking at the old games. Rome and med2. I saw the bad releases. Creative Assembly (CA), you, have a rep for it, but this game takes the cake.
For reference purposes, note that I don't own Empire. I don't plan on it. Creative Assembly, you, have lost a customer. I don't plan on buying the game till it is in the bargain bin and the problems are fixed. I can wait 8 months. I did on Med2. Bought that one for cheap.
People are blaming CA for there problems with the game. Is it really there fault? Kinda. In a way. But who's fault is it really? I say that it is the PC game industry faults. That means everyone involved in it. That means CA, SEGA, EB Games, Walmart, you and most defiantly me.
Go to most gaming stores. Now, compare there PC games with there Console games. Notice a difference? Notice that the PC section is so small? And there aren't a lot of good titles there? A couple too many SIM games?
Then all of the good games are faulty and unplayable (Not to mention unbuyable). When you do buy a game, you have to spend hours upon hours patching the game if you bought it well after the release date. If you bought it on release, prepare yourself for an unplayable game. So them you spend all day trying to get the game to work, when a friend calls you up to tell you not to buy the game cause he just finished taking it off of torrent and will give it to you for free.
That is the problem with this industry. People will go out to buy the game fanatically on release day and wonder why CA has slapped them in the face with a bad game. Or rip it off. The ones that buy the bad game are just as bad as those that rip it off, but for different reasons. Those that rip it off are fueling the fire of securerom and steam which punish the consumer who only want to play a game. Those that buy the game fanatically fuel the Developers coffers enabling them to release another bad game. That company needs to realize its mistake and fold up like a good little boy.
Developers like movie producers must realize that we will happily spend 50 bucks on a game if the game is worth it. I will happily go to the movie theatre to see a movie if it is worth it. If it isn't, I will wait for it to get into the bargain bin to buy it. I did that for many games and movies. Some I am glad that I did.
Does complaining help at all. Yes and no. It is only good if developers and consumers actually read it. Complain to Mcdonalds and you get a free burger. Too many people complain, the restaurant gets Mystery shopped. If it fails that, the owner/manager gets in trouble. We complain here in these forums, nothing really happens. You talk with your wallet, however, CA's purse gets hurt.
Those that bought the game and are complaining. Shame on you. You should have known. Those that can actually play the game, can I come over to your house?
Sincerely,
Nathan Pedde
I am a long time Total War fan. I own Shogun Total War, Medieval Total War, Rome Total War, Medieval 2 Total War, plus most of the expansions. I predicted that the Empire Total War fiasco would happen months ago, during development. I was flamed on there forums cause if it. I knew that this would happen just by looking at the old games. Rome and med2. I saw the bad releases. Creative Assembly (CA), you, have a rep for it, but this game takes the cake.
For reference purposes, note that I don't own Empire. I don't plan on it. Creative Assembly, you, have lost a customer. I don't plan on buying the game till it is in the bargain bin and the problems are fixed. I can wait 8 months. I did on Med2. Bought that one for cheap.
People are blaming CA for there problems with the game. Is it really there fault? Kinda. In a way. But who's fault is it really? I say that it is the PC game industry faults. That means everyone involved in it. That means CA, SEGA, EB Games, Walmart, you and most defiantly me.
Go to most gaming stores. Now, compare there PC games with there Console games. Notice a difference? Notice that the PC section is so small? And there aren't a lot of good titles there? A couple too many SIM games?
Then all of the good games are faulty and unplayable (Not to mention unbuyable). When you do buy a game, you have to spend hours upon hours patching the game if you bought it well after the release date. If you bought it on release, prepare yourself for an unplayable game. So them you spend all day trying to get the game to work, when a friend calls you up to tell you not to buy the game cause he just finished taking it off of torrent and will give it to you for free.
That is the problem with this industry. People will go out to buy the game fanatically on release day and wonder why CA has slapped them in the face with a bad game. Or rip it off. The ones that buy the bad game are just as bad as those that rip it off, but for different reasons. Those that rip it off are fueling the fire of securerom and steam which punish the consumer who only want to play a game. Those that buy the game fanatically fuel the Developers coffers enabling them to release another bad game. That company needs to realize its mistake and fold up like a good little boy.
Developers like movie producers must realize that we will happily spend 50 bucks on a game if the game is worth it. I will happily go to the movie theatre to see a movie if it is worth it. If it isn't, I will wait for it to get into the bargain bin to buy it. I did that for many games and movies. Some I am glad that I did.
Does complaining help at all. Yes and no. It is only good if developers and consumers actually read it. Complain to Mcdonalds and you get a free burger. Too many people complain, the restaurant gets Mystery shopped. If it fails that, the owner/manager gets in trouble. We complain here in these forums, nothing really happens. You talk with your wallet, however, CA's purse gets hurt.
Those that bought the game and are complaining. Shame on you. You should have known. Those that can actually play the game, can I come over to your house?
Sincerely,
Nathan Pedde
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Solar Storm: Chpater Two
(This is the second chapter of my book. Read, comment and enjoy!)
CHAPTER TWO
BURRARD THERMAL PLANT- PORT MOODY, BC- MARCH 12TH- 4:30 AM
Dave turned onto the drive that wound its way down the steep hillside to the Burrard Thermal Plant. He sped around a tight turn and four very large smoke stacks appeared in the distance in front of him. Hundreds of bright lights illuminating the power plant.
The plant was made up of four-story buildings which surrounded the four smoke stacks. The site was built at the bottom of a mountain side on the shore of the Burrard Inlet.
As he got to the bottom of the hill, he screeched to a halt at a security check point.
A security guard stepped out to greet him.
“Hey Dave,” the guard said, “You’re early.”
“Emergency.” Dave said.
“What kind of emergency?”
“The kind that people die in.”
“Sure there is.” The guard said sceptically.
“Would you please just let me in?” Dave said with a fire in his voice.
“All right... all right...” The guard said as he raised the gate.
Dave sped off which caused gravel and rocks to spray backwards.
He parked with a screech.
Dave picked his cell phone up off of the floor of his car. He dialled Lucy’s number and after a couple rings, Lucy picked up.
“Dave!” Lucy said, “It’s happening too fast.”
“What do you mean too fast?” Dave replied as he got out of his car.
“A third of the communication satellites have fried.” Lucy yelled over the phone, “All of the older ones at first, but the newer ones will go soon. Hell, one dropped out of the sky and landed in Stanley Park.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Dave cried.
He ran up the walkway towards the building. “I am at the Thermal Plant. If I can shut down the power in time, Vancouver should be spared the worse.”
“I hope so.” Lucy said, “According to my numbers, cars are going to fry as well.”
“What do you mean that cars are going to fry?” Dave yelled into his phone, “Cars should be fine! They shouldn’t be affected by a solar storm! Hello! Lucy! Hello!”
There was a silent pause. Dave looked at his phone. It said, “No service.”
He tossed it to the ground.
Dave ran into the building and flew up a set of stairs three at a time. Dave slammed open the door to the control room.
“Phase two has started!” Dave yelled.
“Phase what? What are you talking about?” Kenny Davis, a control operator yelled back to him.
“The end of the world!” Dave said.
“The what now?” Kenny yelled.
“Listen carefully. I need you to shut down the power, now!”
“I don’t think so.” Kenny said, “The last time that I did that, I almost got fired and imprisoned. Hell, I am surprised that you didn’t get fired and imprisoned.”
“Listen to me.” Dave yelled, “A powerful solar storm is brewing. It is going to be big and people are going to die unless I can get the power off and save the city.”
“Save the city?” Kenny said in mock disbelief, “I might be a little tired but, how in this world can a solar storm kill people?”
“The storm will cause a massive electrical surge in anything electrical or anything that could run electricity.”
“Surge disables power grid.” Kenny said, “I don’t think so. We have systems that protect it.”
“Which are disabled and blind!” Dave said, “Unless I can save the plant, it won’t be able to produce any electricity for a very long time.”
“How big is this storm going to be?”
“Big enough to knock out all utility power at least.” Dave said, “Look. In 1989 a solar storm hit Quebec and knocked out power to millions of people for two weeks. In 1857, a solar storm hit and almost electrocuted telegraph operators.”
“So.” Kenny said, “That’s Quebec and who cares about what happened in 1857.”
“Who cares?” Dave said, “This storm is ten times the size of those two storms combined!”
“You want the power off at 5 o’clock in the bloody morning, you can call the mayor!” Kenny said.
7,500 FEET ABOVE DOWNTOWN VANCOUVER- MARCH 12TH- 8:50 AM
The 747 airliner circled around the Vancouver International Airport in a wide circle that skirted over Downtown Vancouver.
John McHurdey was fifty-five years old and he was tired. He was stuck in a tin can waiting to land. He was on a long flight from Toronto and only wanted off of the plane.
On the tiny TV, encased in the chair in front of him, was the news. A shot of fiery wreckage which stretched across a run-way flashed across the tiny screen.
“I don’t know Bill,” the News Announcer said, “Airport Officials aren’t talking at the moment. We don’t know what caused the plane to crash. Rumour has it that this unusual solar weather has been causing problems with the planes GPS system.” The screen changed to a shot of a young reporter holding onto a microphone. “I have nothing official at the moment, but as soon as Airport officials talk to us, you’ll know.”
John pulled out the earphones from his ears. He reached up and rung the attendant call button. A few seconds later, an attendant approached John.
“How may I help you?” She said in an overly heightened flight attendant voice.
“Is there any way that I can get a phone, so that I can call my wife. I need to tell her that I am fine and that my plane wasn’t the one that crashed.”
“We do have a phone that you can use with a credit card, but as we are having magnetic interference, the Captain has shut off the phone until we think that it is safe enough to use. We apologize for any inconvenience.”
John grumbled slightly, “When are we going to land.”
“We will be landing shortly.” the flight attendant said walking away.
“That means as soon as they clear wreckage from the runway.” John muttered under his breath.
He should have landed hours ago, except that there had been reports of weather related air accidents in multiple airports shutting them down. Abbotsford, Victoria, Vancouver, they had all been shut down. Airports in Seattle, Washington had also experienced similar problems. Not that they could land there with the US Border being like it was. It was like Armageddon had happened and he was stuck in the air. He didn’t know what was going on.
People, like John, were pretty angry. The longer that they stayed in the air, the greater chance that they wouldn’t be going home at all.
“Are you sure that there isn’t another airport that we can land at?” a young blonde woman three rows over asked impatiently.
“For the last time, no.” the flight attendant said as stress showed for the first time, “We are doing all that we can, we have no choice but to wait.”
“What do you mean no?” the woman asked.
“I’m sorry for all of the inconvenience,” the flight attendant began, “But we can’t land because we don’t have clearance to land.”
“Let me talk to them, they’ll give me clearance.” the woman said egotistically.
“They can’t give us clearance because of the accident at Vancouver International Airport.” The flight attendant said, “Listen, I don’t know any more than you do.”
News reports flashed on the TV’s screen. It showed more fiery wreckage.
The woman suddenly got very worried and very pale. It was if she was either smarter than she looked and put it together, or she was reading the flight attendant’s mind.
“Don’t worry. They’ll clear off a runway soon and we’ll be able to land in no time at all.” the flight attendant said.
Suddenly everything went dark and silent. All of the lights went out and the engines sputtered like a ten year old beater on its last legs. Then they died completely.
“Oh fuck.” John said as he pulled his seat belt tighter.
“What the fuck is going on?” the blonde screamed.
Other people began to scream as panic filled the airliner.
“Emergency positions!” the flight attendant yelled.
The plane started to vibrate fiercely and the flight attendant was thrown right into the blonde woman.
The jet suddenly smoothed out. The echo of teary-eyed kids filled the tiny-tin death trap.
The flight attendant got up off of the blonde woman, “Keep calm, we have everything under control.”
Then the airspeed dropped. The jets altitude plummeted as the jet nosedived towards the towering skyscrapers below.
The flight attendant was lifted off of the ground as the plane dropped.
“Oh fuck! I don’t want to die!” she screamed.
She hit the floor of the cabin and slid down the aisle head first.
John reached down and grabbed the flight attendants ankle. The force pulled him toward the seat in front of him. His head hit the seat and he grunted in pain as his shoulder was nearly dislocated.
John gritted his teeth and said a silent prayer to whoever listened.
The flight attendant’s skirt flew up revealing a sexy pair of black panties.
She pushed the skirt down with one hand, trying to cover herself. She grabbed hold of John’s arm with the other hand. With a grunt, John released her ankle and grabbed hold of her wrist. She quickly corrected herself.
“You okay?” John asked.
“Yah!” She said.
The flight attendant grabbed hold of the seat in front of John.
The jet screamed down towards the towering skyscrapers. Slowly, the jet started to tilt up towards the horizon.
But it was too late. The jet had dropped seven thousand feet.
John saw an office tower fly by his window. Its occupants looked scared and shocked.
“Oh fuck.” John said, “This isn’t good.”
Another office tower flew by his window. It narrowly missed the wing by a few feet. The jet missed a third tower by dipping its wing tip.
The jet rocked the other way. The right wing sliced into a tower, like a hot knife cutting through butter. The wing smashed its way through glass and steel. It sliced deeper into the glass tower. Desks, people and a multitude of random debris were smashed and pushed out of the way.
The wing collided into a concrete pillar. The force of the crash turned the jet and caused the fuselage to smash into the building. The wing stopped dead in its tracks.
John yelled and prayed as the jet smashed through the corner of the tower and out into the air. The right wing, however, broke off from the fuselage and stayed inside the tower. Its fuel tanks poured out liquid death into the tower.
The jet dropped down towards the ground, but before it could hit, it smashed into a tower across the street. The left wing smashed into the building, ramming the tip into the elevator shaft. The fuselage bounced on the concrete floor ripping the left wing clear off. It skidded along the floor and smashed through the glass on the other side of the building. It slid into the open space between buildings.
On fire and broken, the jet dropped to the ground in a flaming ball of jet fuel.
CHAPTER TWO
BURRARD THERMAL PLANT- PORT MOODY, BC- MARCH 12TH- 4:30 AM
Dave turned onto the drive that wound its way down the steep hillside to the Burrard Thermal Plant. He sped around a tight turn and four very large smoke stacks appeared in the distance in front of him. Hundreds of bright lights illuminating the power plant.
The plant was made up of four-story buildings which surrounded the four smoke stacks. The site was built at the bottom of a mountain side on the shore of the Burrard Inlet.
As he got to the bottom of the hill, he screeched to a halt at a security check point.
A security guard stepped out to greet him.
“Hey Dave,” the guard said, “You’re early.”
“Emergency.” Dave said.
“What kind of emergency?”
“The kind that people die in.”
“Sure there is.” The guard said sceptically.
“Would you please just let me in?” Dave said with a fire in his voice.
“All right... all right...” The guard said as he raised the gate.
Dave sped off which caused gravel and rocks to spray backwards.
He parked with a screech.
Dave picked his cell phone up off of the floor of his car. He dialled Lucy’s number and after a couple rings, Lucy picked up.
“Dave!” Lucy said, “It’s happening too fast.”
“What do you mean too fast?” Dave replied as he got out of his car.
“A third of the communication satellites have fried.” Lucy yelled over the phone, “All of the older ones at first, but the newer ones will go soon. Hell, one dropped out of the sky and landed in Stanley Park.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Dave cried.
He ran up the walkway towards the building. “I am at the Thermal Plant. If I can shut down the power in time, Vancouver should be spared the worse.”
“I hope so.” Lucy said, “According to my numbers, cars are going to fry as well.”
“What do you mean that cars are going to fry?” Dave yelled into his phone, “Cars should be fine! They shouldn’t be affected by a solar storm! Hello! Lucy! Hello!”
There was a silent pause. Dave looked at his phone. It said, “No service.”
He tossed it to the ground.
Dave ran into the building and flew up a set of stairs three at a time. Dave slammed open the door to the control room.
“Phase two has started!” Dave yelled.
“Phase what? What are you talking about?” Kenny Davis, a control operator yelled back to him.
“The end of the world!” Dave said.
“The what now?” Kenny yelled.
“Listen carefully. I need you to shut down the power, now!”
“I don’t think so.” Kenny said, “The last time that I did that, I almost got fired and imprisoned. Hell, I am surprised that you didn’t get fired and imprisoned.”
“Listen to me.” Dave yelled, “A powerful solar storm is brewing. It is going to be big and people are going to die unless I can get the power off and save the city.”
“Save the city?” Kenny said in mock disbelief, “I might be a little tired but, how in this world can a solar storm kill people?”
“The storm will cause a massive electrical surge in anything electrical or anything that could run electricity.”
“Surge disables power grid.” Kenny said, “I don’t think so. We have systems that protect it.”
“Which are disabled and blind!” Dave said, “Unless I can save the plant, it won’t be able to produce any electricity for a very long time.”
“How big is this storm going to be?”
“Big enough to knock out all utility power at least.” Dave said, “Look. In 1989 a solar storm hit Quebec and knocked out power to millions of people for two weeks. In 1857, a solar storm hit and almost electrocuted telegraph operators.”
“So.” Kenny said, “That’s Quebec and who cares about what happened in 1857.”
“Who cares?” Dave said, “This storm is ten times the size of those two storms combined!”
“You want the power off at 5 o’clock in the bloody morning, you can call the mayor!” Kenny said.
7,500 FEET ABOVE DOWNTOWN VANCOUVER- MARCH 12TH- 8:50 AM
The 747 airliner circled around the Vancouver International Airport in a wide circle that skirted over Downtown Vancouver.
John McHurdey was fifty-five years old and he was tired. He was stuck in a tin can waiting to land. He was on a long flight from Toronto and only wanted off of the plane.
On the tiny TV, encased in the chair in front of him, was the news. A shot of fiery wreckage which stretched across a run-way flashed across the tiny screen.
“I don’t know Bill,” the News Announcer said, “Airport Officials aren’t talking at the moment. We don’t know what caused the plane to crash. Rumour has it that this unusual solar weather has been causing problems with the planes GPS system.” The screen changed to a shot of a young reporter holding onto a microphone. “I have nothing official at the moment, but as soon as Airport officials talk to us, you’ll know.”
John pulled out the earphones from his ears. He reached up and rung the attendant call button. A few seconds later, an attendant approached John.
“How may I help you?” She said in an overly heightened flight attendant voice.
“Is there any way that I can get a phone, so that I can call my wife. I need to tell her that I am fine and that my plane wasn’t the one that crashed.”
“We do have a phone that you can use with a credit card, but as we are having magnetic interference, the Captain has shut off the phone until we think that it is safe enough to use. We apologize for any inconvenience.”
John grumbled slightly, “When are we going to land.”
“We will be landing shortly.” the flight attendant said walking away.
“That means as soon as they clear wreckage from the runway.” John muttered under his breath.
He should have landed hours ago, except that there had been reports of weather related air accidents in multiple airports shutting them down. Abbotsford, Victoria, Vancouver, they had all been shut down. Airports in Seattle, Washington had also experienced similar problems. Not that they could land there with the US Border being like it was. It was like Armageddon had happened and he was stuck in the air. He didn’t know what was going on.
People, like John, were pretty angry. The longer that they stayed in the air, the greater chance that they wouldn’t be going home at all.
“Are you sure that there isn’t another airport that we can land at?” a young blonde woman three rows over asked impatiently.
“For the last time, no.” the flight attendant said as stress showed for the first time, “We are doing all that we can, we have no choice but to wait.”
“What do you mean no?” the woman asked.
“I’m sorry for all of the inconvenience,” the flight attendant began, “But we can’t land because we don’t have clearance to land.”
“Let me talk to them, they’ll give me clearance.” the woman said egotistically.
“They can’t give us clearance because of the accident at Vancouver International Airport.” The flight attendant said, “Listen, I don’t know any more than you do.”
News reports flashed on the TV’s screen. It showed more fiery wreckage.
The woman suddenly got very worried and very pale. It was if she was either smarter than she looked and put it together, or she was reading the flight attendant’s mind.
“Don’t worry. They’ll clear off a runway soon and we’ll be able to land in no time at all.” the flight attendant said.
Suddenly everything went dark and silent. All of the lights went out and the engines sputtered like a ten year old beater on its last legs. Then they died completely.
“Oh fuck.” John said as he pulled his seat belt tighter.
“What the fuck is going on?” the blonde screamed.
Other people began to scream as panic filled the airliner.
“Emergency positions!” the flight attendant yelled.
The plane started to vibrate fiercely and the flight attendant was thrown right into the blonde woman.
The jet suddenly smoothed out. The echo of teary-eyed kids filled the tiny-tin death trap.
The flight attendant got up off of the blonde woman, “Keep calm, we have everything under control.”
Then the airspeed dropped. The jets altitude plummeted as the jet nosedived towards the towering skyscrapers below.
The flight attendant was lifted off of the ground as the plane dropped.
“Oh fuck! I don’t want to die!” she screamed.
She hit the floor of the cabin and slid down the aisle head first.
John reached down and grabbed the flight attendants ankle. The force pulled him toward the seat in front of him. His head hit the seat and he grunted in pain as his shoulder was nearly dislocated.
John gritted his teeth and said a silent prayer to whoever listened.
The flight attendant’s skirt flew up revealing a sexy pair of black panties.
She pushed the skirt down with one hand, trying to cover herself. She grabbed hold of John’s arm with the other hand. With a grunt, John released her ankle and grabbed hold of her wrist. She quickly corrected herself.
“You okay?” John asked.
“Yah!” She said.
The flight attendant grabbed hold of the seat in front of John.
The jet screamed down towards the towering skyscrapers. Slowly, the jet started to tilt up towards the horizon.
But it was too late. The jet had dropped seven thousand feet.
John saw an office tower fly by his window. Its occupants looked scared and shocked.
“Oh fuck.” John said, “This isn’t good.”
Another office tower flew by his window. It narrowly missed the wing by a few feet. The jet missed a third tower by dipping its wing tip.
The jet rocked the other way. The right wing sliced into a tower, like a hot knife cutting through butter. The wing smashed its way through glass and steel. It sliced deeper into the glass tower. Desks, people and a multitude of random debris were smashed and pushed out of the way.
The wing collided into a concrete pillar. The force of the crash turned the jet and caused the fuselage to smash into the building. The wing stopped dead in its tracks.
John yelled and prayed as the jet smashed through the corner of the tower and out into the air. The right wing, however, broke off from the fuselage and stayed inside the tower. Its fuel tanks poured out liquid death into the tower.
The jet dropped down towards the ground, but before it could hit, it smashed into a tower across the street. The left wing smashed into the building, ramming the tip into the elevator shaft. The fuselage bounced on the concrete floor ripping the left wing clear off. It skidded along the floor and smashed through the glass on the other side of the building. It slid into the open space between buildings.
On fire and broken, the jet dropped to the ground in a flaming ball of jet fuel.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Almost done.
As I finish the editing portion of me latest draft, and cringe at beginning the adding portion of it, I pause to reflect on my work. I started this story two long years ago after I finally got frustrated at only dreaming up the story. With only a few short stories and an nearly-completed fantasy world under my belt, the task seemed daunting. Scared, I picked up my pen, bought a new note book and started to write.
Two years down the road, two weddings (One my own and one my older brothers), a graduation (My younger sister's), relocating to the city of Prince George, about a thousand threats to burn my work and about a thousand more to throw my aging computer out of my fourth floor apartment's window, I am nearly done. I have written 381 pages and 89 thousand words. I have created a world and torn it apart in the process of my story.
I have edited and re-edited my work, created thrilling characters, only to sadly hit the delete button on them later. I have destroyed a world and created a new one.
I now look to the future. Do I write a book two? Do I try and finish my un-finishable world? Do I write a different story? Which story do I choose? I have about three dozen and counting... Do I burn all of my work right after I throw my Pentium 4 out of the window to watch it spin helplessly to the ground. Shall I watch it smash into the ground and watch the tiny pieces of its existence scattering into nothingness on the pavement.
Or do I go and buy a beer...
Two years down the road, two weddings (One my own and one my older brothers), a graduation (My younger sister's), relocating to the city of Prince George, about a thousand threats to burn my work and about a thousand more to throw my aging computer out of my fourth floor apartment's window, I am nearly done. I have written 381 pages and 89 thousand words. I have created a world and torn it apart in the process of my story.
I have edited and re-edited my work, created thrilling characters, only to sadly hit the delete button on them later. I have destroyed a world and created a new one.
I now look to the future. Do I write a book two? Do I try and finish my un-finishable world? Do I write a different story? Which story do I choose? I have about three dozen and counting... Do I burn all of my work right after I throw my Pentium 4 out of the window to watch it spin helplessly to the ground. Shall I watch it smash into the ground and watch the tiny pieces of its existence scattering into nothingness on the pavement.
Or do I go and buy a beer...
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Chapter One: Solar Storm
(This is the first chapter to my book. Enjoy, let me know what you think.)
CHAPTER ONE
DEEP SPACE- HALFWAY BETWEEN THE EARTH AND THE SUN- MARCH 11TH, 2012
The satellite rotated around the sun in a geosynchronous orbit. It floated between the sun and the earth. For nearly five years the Solar Explorer scanned and took readings of any and all solar activity. It measured solar flares and solar winds, and sent all of the information back to Earth for analysis.
Deep within the sun’s core, massive solar activity had sprung to life. A solar wind spread out from the sun. Radiation, electrons and protons had swept forward towards the Earth and the helpless satellite.
The satellite’s computer was activated shortly after the onslaught of solar activity began.
The satellite compiled the data immediately, readying it to send to earth. The satellite was buffeted by a solar wind so powerful that nothing equal to it had ever been recorded in Earth’s history.
The Solar Explorer had been hardened to withstand the heavy radiation from the sun, but the solar onslaught was so powerful that its protective casing started to warp. Inside the Solar Explorer instruments slowly started to melt.
Cased to one side of the satellite was a long distance antenna which was wired to multiple other devices. The antenna started to send data towards the earth while seconds slipped away. The protective plastic coating on the wires dripped away as they melted.
Propelled by the sun’s gravity, a meteor the size of a kitchen fridge floated through space on a collision course with the helpless satellite.
COFFEE SHOP- DOWNTOWN VANCOUVER- SUNDAY MARCH 11TH- 12PM
Cameron Peterson sat at a small table in a small coffee shop. The coffee shop sat at an intersection that seemed to be lined with coffee shops, each with very much the same look.
“I guess some people are lazy.” Cameron said to himself as he looked at his watch, “Can’t you ever show up on time?”
Cameron drummed his hands on the table. His grubby plaid shirt, dirty blue jeans and muddy steel-toed boots told the yuppie customers that he was a tradesman.
A playful couple entered the store. They laughed and poked at each other.
Cameron reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. He opened it to reveal a gold engagement ring. He stared into the sparkling diamond.
“Come on, Wally.” Cameron said as he slammed the ring box shut.
His strong hands flexed around his coffee cup as Wally walked by outside the store.
“What?” Wally said as he entered the store.
“Can’t you ever get anywhere on time?” Cameron said.
“You get stressed out too much.” Wally said as he sat down, “What is this about? Why did I have to get up at the crack of dawn and come down here for?”
“It’s not the crack of dawn.” Cameron said, “It’s noon. The day is half gone.”
“Whatever.” Wally muttered, “My day isn’t. It has only just started. I am going to a screening...”
“I am proposing to Nicole tomorrow.” Cameron interrupted.
“Is that why you have been working twenty-four seven?” Wally retorted, “And are you mad?”
“What kind of question is that?” Cameron exclaimed, shocked.
“You are giving away your freedom.” Wally said.
“How many girlfriends have I had?” Cameron asked, “Two in four years.”
“How many girlfriends have I had?” Wally answered, “One three years ago. Do I care, no. I am not going to propose to the first girl that I meet.”
“I didn’t just meet her. I have been with her for two years!” Cameron exclaimed.
“So,” Wally said, “I need to be with a girl for at least six years before I even have thoughts like that.”
“The last girlfriend that you had, only lasted two weeks.” Cameron said.
“Best two weeks of sex that I ever had.” Wally shot back smugly.
“Why are we arguing?” Cameron asked.
“We’re arguing ‘cause it’s so damned entertaining.” Wally answered.
“Seriously though, I am going to propose to Nicole tomorrow at her work.” Cameron said.
“Okay. Good luck man.” Wally said.
“That’s not the problem.” Cameron said.
“What is?”
“If I don’t propose to her tomorrow, she will leave me to go traveling.”
“So let her go travel.” Wally said, “It can’t hurt anything.”
“For two years.” Cameron answered.
“I see.” Wally paused, his face turned serious, “This is me being serious. Propose to her. If you love her, get her. Don’t let her leave. If you do, you will regret it. I regret losing mine.”
“You regret your two week girlfriend?” Cameron asked.
“I do.” Wally said, “I wish that I hadn’t cheated on her. I’d be still with her.”
Cameron laughed. “All right, I gotta get going. I’ll call you after I do it.”
BRITISH COLUMBIA SOLAR OBSERVATORY- MARCH 12TH, 2012- 3AM
Lucy LuKarin sat asleep at her computer console. She leaned back into her chair with her feet resting on her desk and her hands behind her head. The latest harlequin romance novel lay splayed across her chest. The novel threatened to topple over every time she exhaled. Her long black hair was pulled into a bun, with carefully selected strands pulled aside to showcase her startling green eyes.
On her computer, an Orlando Bloom screen saver flashed. Each picture was more scandalous than the last.
Suddenly, the screen saver disappeared and a window popped up.
It said, “Solar Explorer Connection established, press Okay to download.”
Lucy didn’t stir, drool excaped her lips as she snored. She was lost deep in sleep.
The monitor flashed back to the Orlando Bloom screen saver.
A couple minutes later the screen saver disappeared again and the window popped back up. This time the change of light waked Lucy.
Groggily she clicked okay. The window disappeared and a progress bar popped up. Lucy opened up her book. She read and re-read the same line over and over again and she soon fell back asleep.
The progress bar moved slowly across the screen. Eventually it reached 17%. Then the computer beeped loudly and an error message popped up.
It said, “Error. Connection Lost.”
Lucy woke up and looked at the screen.
“Oh crap.” Lucy said as she sat up.
Her book flew to the ground in a flutter of pages.
With a flurry of clicking, window after window and menu upon menu opened and closed. “Oh fuck! Where is it?” she cursed.
She grabbed the phone and dialled a number quickly. After the phone rang a few times, the line picked up.
“Hello.” A tired male voice muttered.
“Doctor Winston, sorry to bother you, but I’ve lost the Solar Explorer.” Lucy said quickly as her words streamed together.
“What do you mean lost it?” Dr. Winston replied groggily.
“I was downloading the latest data from SK, when the connection was lost.”
“Oh. Did you look for the satellite through the secondary antenna?” Dr. Winston said mockingly, “The primary antenna isn’t well shielded from solar radiation, maybe a wire melted on the stupid, ill-designed thing.”
“Yes I did look through the secondary antenna,” Lucy snapped, “it is as if the satellite doesn’t exist.”
“Hmm.” Dr Winston muttered, “We’ll figure it out later.”
“Doctor.” Lucy said, “The data that we did recover, has solar activity going through the roof.”
“Yah. Okay.” Dr. Winston muttered. “I’ll check it out in the morning.”
“But, sir! I think that this is...” Lucy yelled out in frustration.
“It isn’t important. It is probably just an operator error.” Dr. Winston said firmly, “Don’t bother me again.”
Dr. Winston hung up and Lucy sat in her chair dumb-founded.
“What am I going to do?” she muttered to herself.
She got up out of her chair and pushed it across the room. She paced back and forth in front of the computer. She kicked the book across the room each time she passed it. The book tore apart as it left her foot and its pages scattered as they hit the far wall.
“So I discovered a surprisingly devastating increase of solar activity,” She muttered to the Orlando Bloom screen saver, “plus I think that the satellite has been destroyed. I need to call someone else.
“But who do I call?”
Lucy stopped walking suddenly.
DAVE MCDURRY’S RESIDENCE- BURNABY, BC- MARCH 12TH- 3:45AM
Dave McDurry, a thirty-five year old self proclaimed genius, lay in bed in his million dollar house on the top of Capital Hill in the City of Burnaby.
University honours, PHD’s and honorary degrees decorated his walls. His kitchen table was buried under blueprints, newspapers and letters.
Dave lay in a deep sleep with his alarm clock set to ring at five in the morning; in an hour and fifteen minutes.
His cell phone rang and he jerked awake. The ring shattered the silence of the night. He picked up the phone.
“Hello,” he muttered as he wiped sleep from his eyes.
“Hi Mr. McDurry. This is Lucy LuKarim from B.C.S.O.” Lucy said as she tried to sound professional.
“Are you aware what time it is?” Dave asked clearly frustrated.
“What time it is isn’t important right now. How much time we have is.”
“What are you talking about?” grumbled McDurry
“I met you in at the science convention, remember?”
“Only if you were that sexy brunette,” Dave muttered, “Long legs, little black dress. Red panties.”
“Red panties!” Lucy said shocked, “How did you... Never mind. Yes that’s me.” she said relieved that she got the right number, “Do you remember that prediction that you were trying to tell us about?”
“Solar storm. End of civilization.” He said, “No one listened, then it didn’t happen. I almost lost my job when I killed the power, and caused a black out. What’s the point to all of this at four in the morning, besides reminding me of an old fantasy?”
“You were right about the storm, wrong about the day.” She said as she strung the words together.
“Excuse me. Didn’t get that.” Dave said.
“Since 2 AM the Solar Explorer has been Missing in Action.”
“Missing in Action. What does that have to do with me?”
“Before it disappeared, it was giving me readings on solar activity.”
“And?” Dave said.
He wished that she would say it all ready and let him get back to sleep; a fantasy called his sleepy mind’s attention.
“The readings were incomplete. But what I did get was off the charts.”
“So.” Dave said.
“Do you remember that solar storm that had knocked out power in Quebec in 1989?” Lucy asked.
“Yah.” Dave said.
“I am afraid that the Quebec storm is like a small rain storm in comparison to this one.” Lucy said
Silence filled the room as he lay in his bed shocked, his sleepy mind suddenly awake.
“Can you get more data? I need to talk to the Mayor about this.”
“All ready tried the mayor. They told me to go back to star gazing.”
“Can you turn on A.C.E?” He said.
Dave sprang out of bed, and grabbed a discarded pair of pants that lay amongst his clothes all while he attempted to keep his composure.
“The Advanced Composition Explorer?” Lucy asked, “No, that was decommissioned years ago. Plus that was NASA’s solar weather satellite.”
Suddenly the phone cut and the connection was lost.
“Dead spot.” Dave muttered as he looked at the zero bars on his cell phone display, “I haven’t had that problem for five years.”
Dave looked at his phone as call signal returned to normal. His phone immediately rang again.
“Hello.” Dave answered.
“This is happening too fast! Communication satellites shouldn’t be frying for another three hours at the minimum.” Lucy cursed.
“How do you know that the communication satellites are frying?” Dave asked.
“I am illegally logged into the Rogers Satellite Network.” Lucy said, “We’ve just lost five in the last twenty minutes.”
“That’s not too bad.” Dave said juggling the phone.
“IT is considering that there is only about forty-five active communication satellites in the world.” Lucy spat.
Dave juggled the phone as he put on a pair of pants. He attempted to find a shirt and put it on. The phone almost slipped away from him as he tried to put on a pair of shoes. He put a blue tooth ear piece in his ear as he headed out the door.
“What do you mean that this is early?” Dave said as he ran down the pathway to his car.
“You did that prediction about solar storms. Don’t you know?” Lucy said baffled.
“That was two years ago and all I did was a bunch of mathematical equations.” Dave said fumbling with the key to his car.
Dave quickly got into his car and drove off before the door had even shut. He placed the cell phone onto a plastic holder on his dash.
“It usually takes anywhere between twenty-four to thirty-six hours for a solar storm to reach the Earth. The first wave has hit in under two and a half hours.” Lucy said.
Dave sped down the Burrard highway going 150 km per/hour.
“Refresh my memory,” Dave said, “what the hell is happening? What is this solar storm doing exactly?”
“A solar storm is really a geomagnetic storm,” Lucy said condescendingly, “Do you know what that is?”
“Do I know what a geomagnetic storm is? Are you trying to be funny?” Dave asked as he drifted around a corner at a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour, “It is a temporary disturbance of the Earth's magnetosphere caused by a disturbance in space weather. Like a solar flare. But those happen all the time. They don’t hurt anything but a bit of cell phone reception.”
“A solar flare being propelled by a strong solar wind can knock out power grids,” Lucy said, “You should know this, it knocked out power grids in Quebec in...”
“Right. 1989. You already told me.” Dave interrupted, “It caused nine hours of darkness.”
“And your mathematical equation said that it can happen again unless we don’t do something.”
“Okay,” Dave said as he slowed down, unsure of his actions, “So I am going to save Vancouver from a power outage by causing one myself.”
“You don’t get it,” Lucy said, “In 1859; a solar storm shorted out telegraph lines, caused fires and electrocuted operators.”
“Yah.” Dave said, “So?”
“That was twenty years before electricity became mainstream with Thomas Edison.” Lucy said, “A hundred and thirty-three years later, I doubt that you can name a single household device that doesn’t use electricity.”
“Oh.” Dave said shocked.
“This storm will make the 1859 super storm look like a baby’s hick-up.”
“Okay.” Dave said, “What’s your plan? I assume that you have a plan of action. I am not driving down the road at a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour mindlessly.”
“Um...” Lucy said, “I haven’t thought...”
Dave suddenly turned onto a dirt road. His rear tires slid out as Dave fishtailed his car around the corner. The phone slipped from the plastic holder from the force of the turn and fell onto the floor. The phone closed and hung up.
“Shit!” Dave cursed.
He reached down and tried to find the phone. Suddenly a street sign appeared in front of him. He swerved out of the way, nearly flying off the road.
CHAPTER ONE
DEEP SPACE- HALFWAY BETWEEN THE EARTH AND THE SUN- MARCH 11TH, 2012
The satellite rotated around the sun in a geosynchronous orbit. It floated between the sun and the earth. For nearly five years the Solar Explorer scanned and took readings of any and all solar activity. It measured solar flares and solar winds, and sent all of the information back to Earth for analysis.
Deep within the sun’s core, massive solar activity had sprung to life. A solar wind spread out from the sun. Radiation, electrons and protons had swept forward towards the Earth and the helpless satellite.
The satellite’s computer was activated shortly after the onslaught of solar activity began.
The satellite compiled the data immediately, readying it to send to earth. The satellite was buffeted by a solar wind so powerful that nothing equal to it had ever been recorded in Earth’s history.
The Solar Explorer had been hardened to withstand the heavy radiation from the sun, but the solar onslaught was so powerful that its protective casing started to warp. Inside the Solar Explorer instruments slowly started to melt.
Cased to one side of the satellite was a long distance antenna which was wired to multiple other devices. The antenna started to send data towards the earth while seconds slipped away. The protective plastic coating on the wires dripped away as they melted.
Propelled by the sun’s gravity, a meteor the size of a kitchen fridge floated through space on a collision course with the helpless satellite.
COFFEE SHOP- DOWNTOWN VANCOUVER- SUNDAY MARCH 11TH- 12PM
Cameron Peterson sat at a small table in a small coffee shop. The coffee shop sat at an intersection that seemed to be lined with coffee shops, each with very much the same look.
“I guess some people are lazy.” Cameron said to himself as he looked at his watch, “Can’t you ever show up on time?”
Cameron drummed his hands on the table. His grubby plaid shirt, dirty blue jeans and muddy steel-toed boots told the yuppie customers that he was a tradesman.
A playful couple entered the store. They laughed and poked at each other.
Cameron reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. He opened it to reveal a gold engagement ring. He stared into the sparkling diamond.
“Come on, Wally.” Cameron said as he slammed the ring box shut.
His strong hands flexed around his coffee cup as Wally walked by outside the store.
“What?” Wally said as he entered the store.
“Can’t you ever get anywhere on time?” Cameron said.
“You get stressed out too much.” Wally said as he sat down, “What is this about? Why did I have to get up at the crack of dawn and come down here for?”
“It’s not the crack of dawn.” Cameron said, “It’s noon. The day is half gone.”
“Whatever.” Wally muttered, “My day isn’t. It has only just started. I am going to a screening...”
“I am proposing to Nicole tomorrow.” Cameron interrupted.
“Is that why you have been working twenty-four seven?” Wally retorted, “And are you mad?”
“What kind of question is that?” Cameron exclaimed, shocked.
“You are giving away your freedom.” Wally said.
“How many girlfriends have I had?” Cameron asked, “Two in four years.”
“How many girlfriends have I had?” Wally answered, “One three years ago. Do I care, no. I am not going to propose to the first girl that I meet.”
“I didn’t just meet her. I have been with her for two years!” Cameron exclaimed.
“So,” Wally said, “I need to be with a girl for at least six years before I even have thoughts like that.”
“The last girlfriend that you had, only lasted two weeks.” Cameron said.
“Best two weeks of sex that I ever had.” Wally shot back smugly.
“Why are we arguing?” Cameron asked.
“We’re arguing ‘cause it’s so damned entertaining.” Wally answered.
“Seriously though, I am going to propose to Nicole tomorrow at her work.” Cameron said.
“Okay. Good luck man.” Wally said.
“That’s not the problem.” Cameron said.
“What is?”
“If I don’t propose to her tomorrow, she will leave me to go traveling.”
“So let her go travel.” Wally said, “It can’t hurt anything.”
“For two years.” Cameron answered.
“I see.” Wally paused, his face turned serious, “This is me being serious. Propose to her. If you love her, get her. Don’t let her leave. If you do, you will regret it. I regret losing mine.”
“You regret your two week girlfriend?” Cameron asked.
“I do.” Wally said, “I wish that I hadn’t cheated on her. I’d be still with her.”
Cameron laughed. “All right, I gotta get going. I’ll call you after I do it.”
BRITISH COLUMBIA SOLAR OBSERVATORY- MARCH 12TH, 2012- 3AM
Lucy LuKarin sat asleep at her computer console. She leaned back into her chair with her feet resting on her desk and her hands behind her head. The latest harlequin romance novel lay splayed across her chest. The novel threatened to topple over every time she exhaled. Her long black hair was pulled into a bun, with carefully selected strands pulled aside to showcase her startling green eyes.
On her computer, an Orlando Bloom screen saver flashed. Each picture was more scandalous than the last.
Suddenly, the screen saver disappeared and a window popped up.
It said, “Solar Explorer Connection established, press Okay to download.”
Lucy didn’t stir, drool excaped her lips as she snored. She was lost deep in sleep.
The monitor flashed back to the Orlando Bloom screen saver.
A couple minutes later the screen saver disappeared again and the window popped back up. This time the change of light waked Lucy.
Groggily she clicked okay. The window disappeared and a progress bar popped up. Lucy opened up her book. She read and re-read the same line over and over again and she soon fell back asleep.
The progress bar moved slowly across the screen. Eventually it reached 17%. Then the computer beeped loudly and an error message popped up.
It said, “Error. Connection Lost.”
Lucy woke up and looked at the screen.
“Oh crap.” Lucy said as she sat up.
Her book flew to the ground in a flutter of pages.
With a flurry of clicking, window after window and menu upon menu opened and closed. “Oh fuck! Where is it?” she cursed.
She grabbed the phone and dialled a number quickly. After the phone rang a few times, the line picked up.
“Hello.” A tired male voice muttered.
“Doctor Winston, sorry to bother you, but I’ve lost the Solar Explorer.” Lucy said quickly as her words streamed together.
“What do you mean lost it?” Dr. Winston replied groggily.
“I was downloading the latest data from SK, when the connection was lost.”
“Oh. Did you look for the satellite through the secondary antenna?” Dr. Winston said mockingly, “The primary antenna isn’t well shielded from solar radiation, maybe a wire melted on the stupid, ill-designed thing.”
“Yes I did look through the secondary antenna,” Lucy snapped, “it is as if the satellite doesn’t exist.”
“Hmm.” Dr Winston muttered, “We’ll figure it out later.”
“Doctor.” Lucy said, “The data that we did recover, has solar activity going through the roof.”
“Yah. Okay.” Dr. Winston muttered. “I’ll check it out in the morning.”
“But, sir! I think that this is...” Lucy yelled out in frustration.
“It isn’t important. It is probably just an operator error.” Dr. Winston said firmly, “Don’t bother me again.”
Dr. Winston hung up and Lucy sat in her chair dumb-founded.
“What am I going to do?” she muttered to herself.
She got up out of her chair and pushed it across the room. She paced back and forth in front of the computer. She kicked the book across the room each time she passed it. The book tore apart as it left her foot and its pages scattered as they hit the far wall.
“So I discovered a surprisingly devastating increase of solar activity,” She muttered to the Orlando Bloom screen saver, “plus I think that the satellite has been destroyed. I need to call someone else.
“But who do I call?”
Lucy stopped walking suddenly.
DAVE MCDURRY’S RESIDENCE- BURNABY, BC- MARCH 12TH- 3:45AM
Dave McDurry, a thirty-five year old self proclaimed genius, lay in bed in his million dollar house on the top of Capital Hill in the City of Burnaby.
University honours, PHD’s and honorary degrees decorated his walls. His kitchen table was buried under blueprints, newspapers and letters.
Dave lay in a deep sleep with his alarm clock set to ring at five in the morning; in an hour and fifteen minutes.
His cell phone rang and he jerked awake. The ring shattered the silence of the night. He picked up the phone.
“Hello,” he muttered as he wiped sleep from his eyes.
“Hi Mr. McDurry. This is Lucy LuKarim from B.C.S.O.” Lucy said as she tried to sound professional.
“Are you aware what time it is?” Dave asked clearly frustrated.
“What time it is isn’t important right now. How much time we have is.”
“What are you talking about?” grumbled McDurry
“I met you in at the science convention, remember?”
“Only if you were that sexy brunette,” Dave muttered, “Long legs, little black dress. Red panties.”
“Red panties!” Lucy said shocked, “How did you... Never mind. Yes that’s me.” she said relieved that she got the right number, “Do you remember that prediction that you were trying to tell us about?”
“Solar storm. End of civilization.” He said, “No one listened, then it didn’t happen. I almost lost my job when I killed the power, and caused a black out. What’s the point to all of this at four in the morning, besides reminding me of an old fantasy?”
“You were right about the storm, wrong about the day.” She said as she strung the words together.
“Excuse me. Didn’t get that.” Dave said.
“Since 2 AM the Solar Explorer has been Missing in Action.”
“Missing in Action. What does that have to do with me?”
“Before it disappeared, it was giving me readings on solar activity.”
“And?” Dave said.
He wished that she would say it all ready and let him get back to sleep; a fantasy called his sleepy mind’s attention.
“The readings were incomplete. But what I did get was off the charts.”
“So.” Dave said.
“Do you remember that solar storm that had knocked out power in Quebec in 1989?” Lucy asked.
“Yah.” Dave said.
“I am afraid that the Quebec storm is like a small rain storm in comparison to this one.” Lucy said
Silence filled the room as he lay in his bed shocked, his sleepy mind suddenly awake.
“Can you get more data? I need to talk to the Mayor about this.”
“All ready tried the mayor. They told me to go back to star gazing.”
“Can you turn on A.C.E?” He said.
Dave sprang out of bed, and grabbed a discarded pair of pants that lay amongst his clothes all while he attempted to keep his composure.
“The Advanced Composition Explorer?” Lucy asked, “No, that was decommissioned years ago. Plus that was NASA’s solar weather satellite.”
Suddenly the phone cut and the connection was lost.
“Dead spot.” Dave muttered as he looked at the zero bars on his cell phone display, “I haven’t had that problem for five years.”
Dave looked at his phone as call signal returned to normal. His phone immediately rang again.
“Hello.” Dave answered.
“This is happening too fast! Communication satellites shouldn’t be frying for another three hours at the minimum.” Lucy cursed.
“How do you know that the communication satellites are frying?” Dave asked.
“I am illegally logged into the Rogers Satellite Network.” Lucy said, “We’ve just lost five in the last twenty minutes.”
“That’s not too bad.” Dave said juggling the phone.
“IT is considering that there is only about forty-five active communication satellites in the world.” Lucy spat.
Dave juggled the phone as he put on a pair of pants. He attempted to find a shirt and put it on. The phone almost slipped away from him as he tried to put on a pair of shoes. He put a blue tooth ear piece in his ear as he headed out the door.
“What do you mean that this is early?” Dave said as he ran down the pathway to his car.
“You did that prediction about solar storms. Don’t you know?” Lucy said baffled.
“That was two years ago and all I did was a bunch of mathematical equations.” Dave said fumbling with the key to his car.
Dave quickly got into his car and drove off before the door had even shut. He placed the cell phone onto a plastic holder on his dash.
“It usually takes anywhere between twenty-four to thirty-six hours for a solar storm to reach the Earth. The first wave has hit in under two and a half hours.” Lucy said.
Dave sped down the Burrard highway going 150 km per/hour.
“Refresh my memory,” Dave said, “what the hell is happening? What is this solar storm doing exactly?”
“A solar storm is really a geomagnetic storm,” Lucy said condescendingly, “Do you know what that is?”
“Do I know what a geomagnetic storm is? Are you trying to be funny?” Dave asked as he drifted around a corner at a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour, “It is a temporary disturbance of the Earth's magnetosphere caused by a disturbance in space weather. Like a solar flare. But those happen all the time. They don’t hurt anything but a bit of cell phone reception.”
“A solar flare being propelled by a strong solar wind can knock out power grids,” Lucy said, “You should know this, it knocked out power grids in Quebec in...”
“Right. 1989. You already told me.” Dave interrupted, “It caused nine hours of darkness.”
“And your mathematical equation said that it can happen again unless we don’t do something.”
“Okay,” Dave said as he slowed down, unsure of his actions, “So I am going to save Vancouver from a power outage by causing one myself.”
“You don’t get it,” Lucy said, “In 1859; a solar storm shorted out telegraph lines, caused fires and electrocuted operators.”
“Yah.” Dave said, “So?”
“That was twenty years before electricity became mainstream with Thomas Edison.” Lucy said, “A hundred and thirty-three years later, I doubt that you can name a single household device that doesn’t use electricity.”
“Oh.” Dave said shocked.
“This storm will make the 1859 super storm look like a baby’s hick-up.”
“Okay.” Dave said, “What’s your plan? I assume that you have a plan of action. I am not driving down the road at a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour mindlessly.”
“Um...” Lucy said, “I haven’t thought...”
Dave suddenly turned onto a dirt road. His rear tires slid out as Dave fishtailed his car around the corner. The phone slipped from the plastic holder from the force of the turn and fell onto the floor. The phone closed and hung up.
“Shit!” Dave cursed.
He reached down and tried to find the phone. Suddenly a street sign appeared in front of him. He swerved out of the way, nearly flying off the road.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Excerpt 1: Solar Strom
Note: I am up much too late and I felt the need to post something. Here is an excerpt from my book Solar Storm. It is nearly complete and expect to see bits and pieces on this site. Enjoy.
Ubel Bosewicht lay on his bed in his tiny six by eight foot wide cell. Nothing decorated the walls. No posters of scantily clad women or sports cars. The only thing that decorated his walls was a single sayingetched into the hard concrete walls, in German, “Auch ein blindes Huhn findet mal ein Korn.” Or in English, “Even a blind hen sometimes finds a grain of corn.”
Ubel lay on his back with his arms under his head. He stared at the saying. His eyes flickered with intent; his mind raced with plans.
The sun filtered through a tiny window near the top of his cell. Its light splashed on the floor next to the bed. Something passed over the window and caused the sunlight to fade away for a split second.
Ubel got off the rather uncomfortable bed and walked over to the window. He jumped up and grabbed the bars. He pulled himself up and looked out the tiny window.
“A satellite?” Ubel muttered to himself, “Now what would cause a satellite to fall out of the sky?”
Across in a nearby field was a communication satellite, its pieces broken across the muddy field. Light reflected off of the metallic pieces in the distance.
A whistle blew and a bell rang from the prison and the doors to the cell opened up.
“Step forward!” someone yelled.
The sound of boots echoed throughout the prison as the prisoners stepped forward from their prison cells.
“What could cause that to happen?” Ubel muttered.
“Bosewicht!” A guard yelled, “Bosewicht! You better get the fuck out of that cell right now or I’ll come up there and beat you a new one.”
Ubel let go of the bars and landed lightly on his feet. He strolled out of the cell, his hands in his pockets, as if he were on a stroll.
Ubel stepped towards the other prisoners. The prisoner next to him leaned towards him.
“What were you looking at boss?” the inmate asked.
“A promise, Lucien. A promise.” Ubel said as he came to stand next to the other prisoners.
The prison block was a long rectangle with cells along one wall. The prison block stood five stories tall with concrete and steel railings to decorate the walls.
A guard stomped up behind him and grabbed Ubel’s grey button-up shirt.
“What the fuck were you looking at Bosewicht?” the gaurd spattered into his face.
“Sunshine.” Ubel muttered.
“Don’t be smart with me?” the guard yelled, “Don’t make me throw you into the hole!”
“I was looking at a pretty lady lying spattered in the mud in a farmer’s field out there.” Ubel said with a straight face.
The guard pulled out his nightstick and struck Ubel in the hips. Ubel barely buckled from the blow.
“Anymore shit like that today and I might not be so nice with you.” said the guard.
The guard stomped off down the stairs.
“Prisoners will fall out to go to breakfast.” yelled another guard.
Ubel and the other prisoners turned and slowly walked to head down the stairs.
“What was that about?” Lucien asked as his fingers twitched uncontrollably.
“Just pushing the guard’s buttons.” Ubel said, “I want you to pass the word to have everyone keep their eyes open.”
“Open for what?” Lucien asked.
“On a porn set, no one smiles.” Ubel said.
“And the world turns.” Lucien said automatically.
Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, the prisoners split up into different groups. They walked towards the mess hall.
Lucien walked over to a couple groups.
He said the words, “On a porn set, no one smiles.”
The different prisoners replied with, “And the world turns.”
The prisoners exited the cellblock and walked down a hallway.
By the time every prisoner entered the mess hall, they had all heard the words.
Ubel made his way through the food line and sat down at a table.
Soon a couple prisoners sat down beside him.
“What’s happening boss?” Lucien asked.
“Have you ever had the feeling that something was going to happen?” Ubel asked.
No one answered.
“You sit at the roulette table, the dice in your hand; the sound of the dice clicking rings loudly to your ears. You bet it all.”
“What has this to do with us?” the big inmate named Hollard asked, “You want to set-up a roulette table? We all ready have poker and dice? We can only win cigarettes...”
“We are sitting at a roulette table. The dice are in your hands. The game will start soon. Should we go all in?” Ubel said.
“This isn’t a riot, then?” Lucien asked.
“Not even close.” Ubel replied, “Bigger.”
“What is going to be bigger than a riot?” Hollard asked.
Lucien leaned in close to Ubel, “You are going to try and take over the prison?”
Ubel grinned.
“Eat up boys.” Ubel said, “The curtains are about to open.”
The half-dozen inmates at the table grabbed their forks and started to eat their food. They threw the food down their throats as if someone was going to take it away from them any minute.
Just as Ubel finished his plate, the lights went out. Confusion spread across the hall as the back-up lights went on and then turned off. The mess hall was bathed in darkness, except for a few barred windows high-up in the mess hall.
Whistles blew as the guards started to panic.
“Everyone get down!” A guard yelled as he pulled out his nightstick.
Ubel stood up. He held his foot tray in one hand, “What happens on a porn set boys?”
“Everybody gets fucked!” the prisoners yelled.
Ubel threw his food tray like a Frisbee. It flew and connected with the guards face. Blood gushed out of his nose. The guard collapsed, not from the blow, but from the suddenness of the attack.
The prisoners rose up and charged at the guards. The guards tried to defend themselves with their nightsticks, but there were too many.
A shot rang out as a guard pulled out his gun from his holster. He fired it into the mass of prisoners.
“Retreat!” a guard yelled.
The guards fell back firing a couple more shots into the mass of the prisoners.
“We must act quickly! They must not know what hit them!” Ubel yelled over the noise of the commotion, “We were abused as kids! No one listened to us! We took to crime for food and livelihood! And we were punished for it! For too long have we sat in these cells, for punishment disproportionate to our crimes!”
“What are you saying that is going on?” a Mexican inmate asked.
“No idea,” Ubel lied, “But I say that we take advantage of it.”
Inmates started to mutter to themselves.
“You lead; we’ll follow you till we walk out of those gates. After that, we are gone.” The inmate said.
“Okay.” Ubel said, “Arm yourselves. Let us fight!”
Lucien handed a handgun to Ubel as they charged forward. They were armed with mostly chairs and food trays. A few inmates were armed with nightsticks and handguns.
They spilled out of the mess hall, and into the compound in a disorganized mob.
“Lucien!” Ubel said urgently.
Lucien appeared at his side.
“I need you to pass the word. I need a few inmates to fall to the guards bullets. You know which ones.”
“Done boss.” Lucien said as he left Ubel’s side.
“Hollard.” Ubel said.
“Yes boss,” Hollard replied.
“I want to walk in the armoury.”
“Right away.” Hollard said, “Come on boys. I need a bigger gun.”
Hollard ran towards the armoury with a handful of inmates armed with a couple handguns.
“Now,” Ubel said to no one in particular, “What do I need to do next? My plan has changed.”
Ubel Bosewicht lay on his bed in his tiny six by eight foot wide cell. Nothing decorated the walls. No posters of scantily clad women or sports cars. The only thing that decorated his walls was a single sayingetched into the hard concrete walls, in German, “Auch ein blindes Huhn findet mal ein Korn.” Or in English, “Even a blind hen sometimes finds a grain of corn.”
Ubel lay on his back with his arms under his head. He stared at the saying. His eyes flickered with intent; his mind raced with plans.
The sun filtered through a tiny window near the top of his cell. Its light splashed on the floor next to the bed. Something passed over the window and caused the sunlight to fade away for a split second.
Ubel got off the rather uncomfortable bed and walked over to the window. He jumped up and grabbed the bars. He pulled himself up and looked out the tiny window.
“A satellite?” Ubel muttered to himself, “Now what would cause a satellite to fall out of the sky?”
Across in a nearby field was a communication satellite, its pieces broken across the muddy field. Light reflected off of the metallic pieces in the distance.
A whistle blew and a bell rang from the prison and the doors to the cell opened up.
“Step forward!” someone yelled.
The sound of boots echoed throughout the prison as the prisoners stepped forward from their prison cells.
“What could cause that to happen?” Ubel muttered.
“Bosewicht!” A guard yelled, “Bosewicht! You better get the fuck out of that cell right now or I’ll come up there and beat you a new one.”
Ubel let go of the bars and landed lightly on his feet. He strolled out of the cell, his hands in his pockets, as if he were on a stroll.
Ubel stepped towards the other prisoners. The prisoner next to him leaned towards him.
“What were you looking at boss?” the inmate asked.
“A promise, Lucien. A promise.” Ubel said as he came to stand next to the other prisoners.
The prison block was a long rectangle with cells along one wall. The prison block stood five stories tall with concrete and steel railings to decorate the walls.
A guard stomped up behind him and grabbed Ubel’s grey button-up shirt.
“What the fuck were you looking at Bosewicht?” the gaurd spattered into his face.
“Sunshine.” Ubel muttered.
“Don’t be smart with me?” the guard yelled, “Don’t make me throw you into the hole!”
“I was looking at a pretty lady lying spattered in the mud in a farmer’s field out there.” Ubel said with a straight face.
The guard pulled out his nightstick and struck Ubel in the hips. Ubel barely buckled from the blow.
“Anymore shit like that today and I might not be so nice with you.” said the guard.
The guard stomped off down the stairs.
“Prisoners will fall out to go to breakfast.” yelled another guard.
Ubel and the other prisoners turned and slowly walked to head down the stairs.
“What was that about?” Lucien asked as his fingers twitched uncontrollably.
“Just pushing the guard’s buttons.” Ubel said, “I want you to pass the word to have everyone keep their eyes open.”
“Open for what?” Lucien asked.
“On a porn set, no one smiles.” Ubel said.
“And the world turns.” Lucien said automatically.
Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, the prisoners split up into different groups. They walked towards the mess hall.
Lucien walked over to a couple groups.
He said the words, “On a porn set, no one smiles.”
The different prisoners replied with, “And the world turns.”
The prisoners exited the cellblock and walked down a hallway.
By the time every prisoner entered the mess hall, they had all heard the words.
Ubel made his way through the food line and sat down at a table.
Soon a couple prisoners sat down beside him.
“What’s happening boss?” Lucien asked.
“Have you ever had the feeling that something was going to happen?” Ubel asked.
No one answered.
“You sit at the roulette table, the dice in your hand; the sound of the dice clicking rings loudly to your ears. You bet it all.”
“What has this to do with us?” the big inmate named Hollard asked, “You want to set-up a roulette table? We all ready have poker and dice? We can only win cigarettes...”
“We are sitting at a roulette table. The dice are in your hands. The game will start soon. Should we go all in?” Ubel said.
“This isn’t a riot, then?” Lucien asked.
“Not even close.” Ubel replied, “Bigger.”
“What is going to be bigger than a riot?” Hollard asked.
Lucien leaned in close to Ubel, “You are going to try and take over the prison?”
Ubel grinned.
“Eat up boys.” Ubel said, “The curtains are about to open.”
The half-dozen inmates at the table grabbed their forks and started to eat their food. They threw the food down their throats as if someone was going to take it away from them any minute.
Just as Ubel finished his plate, the lights went out. Confusion spread across the hall as the back-up lights went on and then turned off. The mess hall was bathed in darkness, except for a few barred windows high-up in the mess hall.
Whistles blew as the guards started to panic.
“Everyone get down!” A guard yelled as he pulled out his nightstick.
Ubel stood up. He held his foot tray in one hand, “What happens on a porn set boys?”
“Everybody gets fucked!” the prisoners yelled.
Ubel threw his food tray like a Frisbee. It flew and connected with the guards face. Blood gushed out of his nose. The guard collapsed, not from the blow, but from the suddenness of the attack.
The prisoners rose up and charged at the guards. The guards tried to defend themselves with their nightsticks, but there were too many.
A shot rang out as a guard pulled out his gun from his holster. He fired it into the mass of prisoners.
“Retreat!” a guard yelled.
The guards fell back firing a couple more shots into the mass of the prisoners.
“We must act quickly! They must not know what hit them!” Ubel yelled over the noise of the commotion, “We were abused as kids! No one listened to us! We took to crime for food and livelihood! And we were punished for it! For too long have we sat in these cells, for punishment disproportionate to our crimes!”
“What are you saying that is going on?” a Mexican inmate asked.
“No idea,” Ubel lied, “But I say that we take advantage of it.”
Inmates started to mutter to themselves.
“You lead; we’ll follow you till we walk out of those gates. After that, we are gone.” The inmate said.
“Okay.” Ubel said, “Arm yourselves. Let us fight!”
Lucien handed a handgun to Ubel as they charged forward. They were armed with mostly chairs and food trays. A few inmates were armed with nightsticks and handguns.
They spilled out of the mess hall, and into the compound in a disorganized mob.
“Lucien!” Ubel said urgently.
Lucien appeared at his side.
“I need you to pass the word. I need a few inmates to fall to the guards bullets. You know which ones.”
“Done boss.” Lucien said as he left Ubel’s side.
“Hollard.” Ubel said.
“Yes boss,” Hollard replied.
“I want to walk in the armoury.”
“Right away.” Hollard said, “Come on boys. I need a bigger gun.”
Hollard ran towards the armoury with a handful of inmates armed with a couple handguns.
“Now,” Ubel said to no one in particular, “What do I need to do next? My plan has changed.”
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The First One.
This is my first blog post ever. Probably to an audience that will never read this.
I was told that I should start a blog. Promote my writing. Post some of my shorts and some exerts of my novels. No I won't post the full thing, I want it to be published by a publisher.
So I guess I should tell you all something about myself. I am a Canadian. I'll wait for the bad Canadian jokes to finish.
Done yet? Yes I have heard that one and I have never met Joe.
Done? Thanks.
I was born is a smallish city call Prince George. Now I'll wait for the Prince George jokes to end.
Done? Thanks.
I have always been a story teller and a dreamer. I grew up to a widowed mother and four annoying siblings. We never had the newest video game and could never keep up with the Jones Family. I liked it better that way. We spent more time picking on each other and playing hide and seek with the neighbours.
I studied and dabbled a fair bit in Film. I went to Film school and even wrote a short film. No, it never got made. I don't want it to get made. Needs too big of a budget for a too short of a film. I was an 'Electric' for a few years while my wife and I tried to save up for our wedding.
For those that don't know what an electric is, it is the grunts who carry all of the huge lights around making the stunning stars look beautiful. No I haven't meet any stars. I have spent some quality time in a 125 foot life in the middle of a snow storm, letting it rock my back and forth to the horror of the Directer of Photography and the Directer. Ask my mom about that story.
I am now back up in PG trying to write my books and to live in this 'Recession'.
Now, I guess you want information on the projects that I am working on. You'll have to wait. This Post has gone long enough. I'll post it another day. Besides, no ones going to read this.
I was told that I should start a blog. Promote my writing. Post some of my shorts and some exerts of my novels. No I won't post the full thing, I want it to be published by a publisher.
So I guess I should tell you all something about myself. I am a Canadian. I'll wait for the bad Canadian jokes to finish.
Done yet? Yes I have heard that one and I have never met Joe.
Done? Thanks.
I was born is a smallish city call Prince George. Now I'll wait for the Prince George jokes to end.
Done? Thanks.
I have always been a story teller and a dreamer. I grew up to a widowed mother and four annoying siblings. We never had the newest video game and could never keep up with the Jones Family. I liked it better that way. We spent more time picking on each other and playing hide and seek with the neighbours.
I studied and dabbled a fair bit in Film. I went to Film school and even wrote a short film. No, it never got made. I don't want it to get made. Needs too big of a budget for a too short of a film. I was an 'Electric' for a few years while my wife and I tried to save up for our wedding.
For those that don't know what an electric is, it is the grunts who carry all of the huge lights around making the stunning stars look beautiful. No I haven't meet any stars. I have spent some quality time in a 125 foot life in the middle of a snow storm, letting it rock my back and forth to the horror of the Directer of Photography and the Directer. Ask my mom about that story.
I am now back up in PG trying to write my books and to live in this 'Recession'.
Now, I guess you want information on the projects that I am working on. You'll have to wait. This Post has gone long enough. I'll post it another day. Besides, no ones going to read this.
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