tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21422513186019176902024-03-06T22:33:51.103-05:00Empyrean DreamsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08625886238673898988noreply@blogger.comBlogger223125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-87494403244080698052023-10-26T19:09:00.000-04:002023-10-26T19:09:02.117-04:00Update: Third Time's the Curse is published!<p> Greetings!</p><p><b> <u>Third Time's the Curse</u></b>, the second sequel in the <u>Tales of the Scape Grace</u> (or fourth book, if you count the prequel) is published and available! The paperback and Kindle eBook editions are now available online <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CLVKM33K?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860" target="_blank">here</a>. Print copies will be added locally in Erie, at Werner Books and Books Galore, as soon as available. </p><p></p><blockquote>The story begins with the bane of all pirate captains: mutiny! Captain Lerner of <i>Scape Grace</i> discovers that he has been marooned while at port on a space station deep in the Mauraug Dominion. Who could have stolen '<i>Grace</i>... and <i>how</i>? Where have they gone? How can her captain win his ship back? And most importantly... does he even <i>want</i> to?</blockquote><p></p><p> There's another manuscript to finish, first, before I start <u>Biological Clock</u>, the second novella in <u>Stchvk Casefiles #2</u>, so that book will likely be published around late spring or summer of 2024. </p><p> After that...? I'm definitely planning at least one more sequel in the <u>Tales of the Scape Grace</u>, to wrap up her storyline, but I'm also considering a series of short stories filling in the "missing" ten years between <u>Escape From Grace</u> (her origin story) and <u>The Wreck of the Untranslatable</u>. These stories may appear first as exclusives on my Patreon (now under construction), then would be published later as a single compiled volume.</p><p> The timeline depends on my availability. I may be called back to duty once <u>Guardian Fighters Era</u> is ready to go again. Book 1, <u>The New Disciples</u> is available <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Guardian-Fighters-Era-New-Disciples-ebook/dp/B09NBVFXP1" target="_blank">here</a>, Book 2 has been written but is waiting on artwork, and Book 3 already has its outline. It's a martial arts light novel, wholly different from Empyrean Dreams, but still my writing and (I think) a good read. </p><p> Finally, if you've read this far: all Empyrean Dreams eBooks have been reduced in price, to $2.99 each! I should have done this earlier, but I was prompted recently by the increase in print costs for paperbacks, some of which had to increase in price. I know this won't help every reader, but hopefully, a few will be more able to access the books in electronic format.</p><p> As always, thanks for reading!</p><p><i><b>Nathan</b></i></p>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-7747062370523390092023-08-29T22:08:00.002-04:002023-08-29T22:08:17.408-04:00Update: TEN YEARS?<p> Prompted by a stray memory, I checked back to the first message posted to this website, the "Introduction". It was created on August 21st, 2023... over ten years ago. I didn't start writing or sharing stories in the Empyrean Dreams universe until later that year, but it's been almost ten years for me, too. </p><p>That's impressive, if only for managing to keep a website going that long. I grant that my updates have slowed to about one per year, but it's not totally quiet yet! Plus, the previous Empyrean Dreams stories are all still here, all the books to date are still available for sale via links, and I'm still writing new stories.</p><p>Speaking of which... <u>Third Time's the Curse</u>, the next book in the Tales of the <i>Scape Grace</i> series, is very nearly complete. I should be announcing its availability soon, here and on our Facebook page. After that, I'll start writing "Biological Clock," the second of two short stories that will eventually become <u>Stchvk Casefiles #2</u> (the first story, "Binding Threads," is already written). </p><p>In the meantime, Empyrean Dreams will be attending Erie ComiCon yet again this year, from September 8th to the 10th. Come on down if you're in town! If so, also, our books are available on the shelves at Books Galore and Werner Books, here in Erie. </p><p>What's next? My goal for 2024 is more promotion: more sales venues, targeted advertising, and possibly, a move to a different publishing platform. Amazon is a handy centralized platform with a low entry cost for self-publishing, but it's... well, Amazon. I'd like to find a printer who also offers some direct promotion, even if it's a pay-for-views arrangement. </p><p>You're welcome to help with that goal. Share your Empyrean Dreams books or tell a friend about one of our books or the whole series. Sales will hopefully follow, but right now, we'd like to get more (positive) attention.</p><p><b>- Nathan</b></p><p>p.s. I've considered something like Patreon as a source of funds for advertising, publishing costs, travel costs to attend Cons, etc., but so far, I've been kept too busy to guarantee regular output. Besides Empyrean Dreams, I ghost-write for a client and create and publish card games... and those are just the paying projects. If one of those jobs picks up, <i>great,</i> and I'll let you know if Empyrean has to pause. If not, though, I certainly have enough ideas for this setting to give it more frequent attention, and maybe set up a channel with regular updates. For one thought, I keep wanting to write a series of short stories about the history of the <i>Scape Grace</i>, those ten years that passed between <u>Escape from Grace</u> and <u>The Wreck of the Untranslatable</u>... a lot of interesting things can happen in ten years.</p>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-78660934556354244822022-08-14T17:40:00.005-04:002022-08-14T17:40:40.909-04:00Update - Erie ComiCon 2022 and writing progress (or lack thereof)<p> Hello again, readers!</p><p>I'd almost forgotten to mention, in the flurry of preparations, that Empyrean Dreams will again be attending Erie, PA's ComiCon, on Friday, September 16th through Sunday, September 18th, of this year. I'll have copies of all five currently published books available, PLUS the first copies of Guardian Fighters Era: The New Disciples, a fantasy martial arts light novel I assisted in writing. </p><p>Sadly, the next Scape Grace book and the next Stchvk Casefiles will not be ready to print this year. Between Guardian Fighters Era and my other business projects, other writing had to slow down. Still, the outlines and early chapters are there, and I know exactly where each story is going. Sooner or later, there will be more Empyrean Dreams.</p><p>-Nathan</p>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-77844628339546228982021-09-25T21:23:00.005-04:002021-09-25T21:23:46.226-04:00Update: Local sales available in Erie, PA For those local to the area of Erie, Pennsylvania, Empyrean Dreams books are back on the shelves at Books Galore (5546 Peach St) and Werner Books (3514 Liberty St). Stop by to take a look and to get our books without the cost and wait of shipping!<div><br /></div><div>-Nathan</div>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-86981067687571419402021-09-07T20:57:00.003-04:002021-09-07T20:58:06.651-04:00Announcement: Empyrean Dreams at Erie ComiCon!<p> And now, for the official announcement: </p>Empyrean Dreams will be featured in the @ComiCon Erie Artist Alley next weekend, September 10-12 at the Bayfront Convention Center in Erie, PA. If you're in the area, please come by and support us and the other talented artists featured there!<div><br />Presale tickets are available at <a href="http://comiconerie.com/?fbclid=IwAR3h47bN_0Yau3kcLLu8cdhzW-RKCbeWbHtu8G_yjTzyAkJvttTTVoACRIs">ComiConErie.com.</a> along with previews of all the other artists, presenters, and activities featured this year.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaItIUx8qt0Uasi5h3BGz6VgMnvMqT985IeJML4CQlawKPqBiZ0lMRzru1tL3evrUxRULFpcQ6otiYrG4V_xXI4cthXtRTuDGPKr8b1iVHlQBEGLwq2pMDuFHHU4WL6PboyDd2lr0eqj0/s1000/Vendor+Post.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="1000" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaItIUx8qt0Uasi5h3BGz6VgMnvMqT985IeJML4CQlawKPqBiZ0lMRzru1tL3evrUxRULFpcQ6otiYrG4V_xXI4cthXtRTuDGPKr8b1iVHlQBEGLwq2pMDuFHHU4WL6PboyDd2lr0eqj0/w400-h178/Vendor+Post.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-10993500539765578772021-09-06T21:38:00.003-04:002021-09-07T20:58:44.094-04:00Update: eBooks added and updated<p> Hello readers,</p><p> In the flurry of activity before this weekend's Erie ComiCon, I included one additional task: creating the ebook versions of the three most recent Empyrean Dreams novels. At least, the Kindle ebooks are complete, as they're quick to convert and publish. In a day or two, you can get ebooks of <u>Stchvk Casefiles #1, Escape from Grace</u>, and <u>A Change in Plans</u> through the Kindle store on Amazon.com. </p><p> Unfortunately, due to a technical bar, the previous ebook versions of <u>The Wreck of the Untranslatable</u> and <u>Empyrean Dreams</u> cannot be revised from their previous reflowable .epub format to the newer Kindle format. While viewable on more devices, the old format isn't as attractive, didn't support the table of contents correctly, and created errors for some viewers. I apologize if you encountered any of these issues. Going forward, I will make sure the ebooks for Empyrean Dreams are better than these two.</p><p>-Nathan</p>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-86898982577912074962021-07-28T02:42:00.003-04:002021-09-07T20:58:30.718-04:00Update: The Tales of the Scape Grace continue!<p> Hello readers,</p><p>With the impetus of Erie ComiCon driving me, the paperback versions of two new Empyrean Dreams books are ready for purchase! </p><p><u><b>Escape from Grace</b></u> is the prequel to <u>The Wreck of the Untranslatable</u> and the true first Tale of the Scape Grace, the story of Evgeny Lerner's fall (or rise) to become a pirate captain. </p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Escape-Grace-Original-Scape-Tales/dp/B099TL6FM8" target="_blank">Buy it here on Amazon.com!</a></p><p><u><b>A Change in Plans</b></u> is the sequel to <u>Wreck</u>, the next story in the Scape Grace's continuing exploits: after its tangle with a truly alien starship and its Ningyo allies, the Scape Grace is in poor shape, with barely enough funds to cover its repairs. </p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Change-Plans-Second-Scape-Grace/dp/B099TSBL66/" target="_blank">Buy it here on Amazon.com</a>! </p><p>In time, I'll get the ebook versions assembled and ready for sale, not to mention the ebook of <u>Stchvk Casefiles #1</u>, but this work will have to wait until at least after the 'Con, in September.</p><p>Thank you for checking in... and I'll do my best to make sure there isn't such a long wait for the next book!</p><p>-Nathan</p>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-76949492244635571082021-07-12T22:43:00.005-04:002021-07-12T22:43:59.466-04:00Update: Better Update than Never!<p>It's certainly been a year, hasn't it?</p><p>The authors of Empyrean Dreams have struggled and survived through these interesting times and seem to be back on track. The Tales of the Scape Grace prequel, "Escape from Grace" and sequel, "A Change in Plans" are nearly ready to print. </p><p>We'll be attending Erie ComiCon, at the Bayfront Convention Center, on September 10, 11, and 12 of this year, with books in hand. If all goes exceptionally well, I may also be able to share the non-Empyrean project that has occupied much of my writing time for the past 2-3 years. </p><p>In the process of preparation, we discovered that several of our books had been suspended due to changes in our publishers' operations and user agreements. These issues have now been resolved, and you should again be able to purchase through Amazon.com or by ordering through a bookseller. Our apologies for this oversight, especially if you tried to buy and were denied!</p><p>-Nathan</p>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-30671285414700752862020-08-23T19:57:00.003-04:002020-08-23T19:58:50.623-04:00Author reading of A Change in Plans, Chapter 1<p>Greetings to any new visitors, and welcome back to any past readers!</p><p>The time has nearly come to offer the <i>Tales of the Scape Grace </i>prequel and sequel, <u>Escape from Grace </u>and <u>A Change in Plans</u>, respectively. I'm finishing up the print drafts now. Since I've been posting other samples on YouTube - poetry, songs, and short stories - I thought of reading a few chapters from Empyrean Dreams books, as well. </p><p>Here's the first attempt, Chapter One of <u>A Change in Plans</u>:</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/RY2GP7pjUb0">https://youtu.be/RY2GP7pjUb0</a></p><p>I hope my voice adds something to the writing...</p><p>-Nathan</p>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-21223373256332100462020-04-25T03:19:00.002-04:002021-09-07T20:59:12.951-04:00As the Plague Turns...We Aten't Dead.<br />
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Neither Empyrean Dreams nor its authors are deceased, though many circumstances have slowed us to an undead-like crawl. Both L.L. herself and Nathan's wife are in the thick of it, in health care professions. Nathan is working from home, which sounds great for a writer, but doesn't help to separate Work-work from Personal-work. Work-work includes the ongoing ghostwriting contract - the target publication date was May, but May has been delayed until the Summer - and some freelance editing, in addition to the full-time day job... editing. Full confession, also, he's been seen dallying with game design, including an appropriately futuristic-looking card game called HEXMAP that's about to be prototyped and offered to publishers. There may be some cross-promotion between these projects, with links to appear here on the site.</div>
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<b><i>STILL! </i></b> There are at least two and possibly three Empyrean Dreams novels edited, laid out, and ready to go to the printer. Once the stimulus checks arrive (if they arrive) or other income returns, we'll have those ready to offer for sale. To avoid confusion, we decided to split <b>Tales of the Scape Grace #0 and #2</b> into two separate novellas, the Prequel, <u>Escape from Grace</u>, and the Sequel, <u>A Change of Plans</u>. That way, you can read them in order, and new readers don't buy them together and wonder what happened in-between. Also in drafts are a fourth Scape Grace story, <u>Third Time's a Curse</u>, and a second <b>Stchvk Casefile</b>, with two stories, <u>Binding Threads</u> and <u>Biological Clock</u>. That's not counting ideas for all-new series and more short stories.</div>
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So you see, we're far from dead. We're too overworked and tired to be dead. </div>
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That's assuming that Death is any escape from Work. If anything, maybe the afterlife has better employment figures right now.</div>
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-N.L.</div>
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<i>p.s. we still miss you, pTerry.</i></div>
Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-1025725683861423372018-04-03T18:56:00.000-04:002021-09-07T20:58:58.076-04:00Update: Stchvk Casefiles #1 available now!<h2>
WE'RE BACK!</h2>
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(Not that Empyrean Dreams ever went away, but we went quiet for much, much too long.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSitXVVBbwpanxzqG7u7jwWpPtyKZuAM-YSJcaCzZelwbgrBJcQbTXp2YKLkIArTImNK-Dwn14eqB1Qf-dcFvN3UQKkrYI-oW-vOT74GWLGZcCCyH9_bNlHr0Can9e6IHtLfwvimhWAeM/s1600/SC1+Cover+half.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="570" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSitXVVBbwpanxzqG7u7jwWpPtyKZuAM-YSJcaCzZelwbgrBJcQbTXp2YKLkIArTImNK-Dwn14eqB1Qf-dcFvN3UQKkrYI-oW-vOT74GWLGZcCCyH9_bNlHr0Can9e6IHtLfwvimhWAeM/s200/SC1+Cover+half.jpg" width="129" /></a></div>
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<u><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stchvk-Casefiles-Bad-Broken-Record/dp/0998660981">Stchvk Casefiles #1</a></u> <span style="font-weight: normal;">is complete and available for purchase!</span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Circumstances finally showed some kindness and we were able to get this first pair of stories ready for print. Two tales of Saurian Noir, space-opera sci-fi mysteries, featuring Stchvk, P.I., the detective so hard-boiled, he hatched from an egg. </span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Find it <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stchvk-Casefiles-Bad-Broken-Record/dp/0998660981">here</a> on Amazon.com, or ask at your local bookstore, printable on demand from IngramSpark or Amazon CreateSpace. Also available as an ebook <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BX4YWGC">here</a>.</span></div>
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Getting to the next publication will be another challenge. We have another book ready to go, the next two Tales of the Scape Grace, but won't have the same discounts as before. Odds are good we'll try a different crowd-funding platform to request help. </div>
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And that's not all. One-and-a-half more Stchvk stories are complete, plus half a Scape Grace story, and a pile of ideas for new short stories. We plan to keep writing and publishing, so keep the page bookmarked!</div>
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Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-70209074383629551922018-01-28T01:42:00.001-05:002018-01-28T01:42:46.467-05:00Update: Not Kickstarted but not downHello Empyrean readers;<br />
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If you haven't seen on Kickstarter or our Facebook page, the crowdfunding attempt for the next two Empyrean Dreams books didn't meet its goal. That's all right; we didn't manage enough promotion to reach enough folks with money to spare. Still, the campaign managed almost a third of its goal, and we're grateful to everyone who pledged. So grateful, that they'll still get a mention of thanks in the next book published.<br />
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Oh yes, we're not entirely stopped. Slowed, perhaps. But with the help of a couple of promotional discounts and a bit of extra labor, the next Empyrean book should still be forthcoming soon. <u>Stchvk Casefiles #1</u>, as I've mentioned, is written, edited, formatted, and awaits only final layout and art. And for a nice change, we have <i>custom</i> art, including a piece by friend and illustrator Z Mann Zilla. <br />
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Another book is also ready. If sales pick up and we can gather the funds, the next <i>Scape Grace</i> book will follow in short order. To assist there, we're going to try sending out a few copies of the first two books to reviewers (suggestions for good reviewers/publications are welcome). <br />
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So, a step back and then two forward. Thank you again to everyone supporting our Dreams.Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-70222539592839255792017-12-04T20:23:00.002-05:002017-12-04T20:25:48.328-05:00Empyrean Dreams is GO on Kickstarter<h2>
Here We Go!</h2>
We're pleased to finally be delivering on a promise...<br /><br />The authors of Empyrean Dreams have launched our Kickstarter, with the goal of publishing two more novels: Stchvk Casefiles #1 (containing Bad Egg and Broken Record) and More Tales of the Scape Grace (containing Escape from Grace and new story A Change of Plans). Please visit the site below and pledge! Backers of $15 or more will receive one or more of our books, plus acknowledgement in both new books. Plus, you'll be helping promote Empyrean Dreams and ensure that we keep writing more fantastic fiction.<div>
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<a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/624536231/more-empyrean-dreams-science-fiction-novels" style="border: 0px; font-family: "maison neue book", "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black;">https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/624536231/more-empyrean-dreams-science-fiction-novels</span></a></div>
Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-27411387555076419962017-04-07T18:01:00.001-04:002017-04-07T18:01:32.700-04:00Update: Another Update?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello, readers!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The pace has slowed slightly here at Empyrean Dreams, but hardly stopped. In fact, Nathan can't help preparing new books and new stories, despite life's other demands. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First, our thanks to <a href="http://eriebooksgalore.wixsite.com/home">Books Galore</a> in Erie, PA, the second independent bookstore to carry our first two printed books. Whenever the Empyrean Dreams RPG setting is finally realized, they'll be on the list to carry the first copies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next, our third book... two candidates are in the final run-off for that honor: the next <i>Scape Grace</i> novel (a double volume containing both the prequel <i>and</i> sequel to <u>Wreck of the Untranslatable</u>), versus the first <i>Stchvk Casefiles</i>, featuring our favorite saurian detective in his first two stories, <u>Bad Egg</u> and <u>Broken Record</u>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Outlines are also ready for fourth stories in both of those series: <u>Third Time's a Curse</u> and <u>Biological Clock</u>, respectively. In the latter case, a second story would be enough to finish <i>Stchvk Casefiles #2. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All that's needed to produce these future volumes is time (to write) and money (for expenses). You can help with the latter: <a href="http://www.empyreandreams.com/p/buy-empyrean-dreams-books.html">buy more Empyrean Dreams books</a>! If you like what we do, help us make more!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We'll still make more, even if you don't like it... just more slowly.</span>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-54393760921352561072017-03-18T19:22:00.004-04:002022-08-14T17:43:13.627-04:00Update: Buy Our Shorts!<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Once again, we're doing our part to support the logging, paper-making, and printing industries... and to beat back the relentless assault of the arboreal masses. </span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">In other words, Empyrean Dreams has released a second book.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><u><b>Empyrean Shorts</b></u> contains the compiled short stories of Empyrean Dreams. All five completed, stand-alone stories from this site - Royce's Dilemma, A.I.I.A., A.I. Codger, Darkness My Friend, and The Swarm - are included, along with two new, previously unpublished tales: Labyrinthine and An Apostate's Path. This lineup means that both Laine and I are listed as full co-authors. </span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">It's available first through <a href="https://www.createspace.com/7017093" target="_blank">CreateSpace</a> and on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Empyrean-Stories-Short-Tales-Dreams/dp/0998660957">Amazon.com</a>. Introductory joke aside, we're preparing an ebook version, as well. If you'd like to look at a print copy locally... ask at your local bookseller. Seriously. Encourage them to stock Empyrean Dreams books. </span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">On that note, <b><u>The Wreck of the Untranslatable</u> </b>went on the shelves at its first bookstore, Werner Books in Erie, PA. That's Nathan handing them copies for consignment sale. We'll be working on encouraging wider distribution, but first we need to show success on a small scale.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Thank you to anyone reading this, for checking out our site. We'll have more updates either as these books expand or when we get the next book (further Tales of the Scape Grace) ready for market.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">-Nathan</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">[Updated 3/20 to add the Amazon link. -NL]</span></div>
Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-51687356660112709192017-02-02T15:44:00.001-05:002017-02-02T15:44:26.891-05:00Update: Do You Wanna Buy a Novel?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello again! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It hasn't been very long, has it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Call that a credit to Amazon CreateSpace, which handled the setup and proofing of our novel with excellent speed. It probably didn't hurt that everything was prepped and formatted from the first printer/distributor. Don't get me wrong, I'm still hoping it was worth all that effort, in the long run.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the short term, you can buy a copy of </span><u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Wreck of the Untranslatable</span></u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> right now, if you want to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seriously: </span><a href="https://www.createspace.com/6905348"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Buy Now!</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The link goes to a small CreateSpace page. Soon, we'll be able to sell via Amazon.com, if you'd prefer that. It's just limited, direct distribution, but if we can make a good start, wider distribution becomes a greater possibility.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And if space pirates aren't your thing, you're in luck. I'm formatting the short story book, </span><u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Empyrean Stories</span></u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, right after this post. If all goes as well or better than the first attempt, we should be able to offer that one in short order.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for reading this, thanks for reading Empyrean Dreams, and thanks in advance for any purchases. If you really want to warm our hearts, share copies with anyone you know who might enjoy, as well.</span><br />
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<u></u><br />Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-7737865674015958342017-02-01T15:16:00.002-05:002022-08-14T17:43:52.221-04:00Update: Moving Paper from Wallet to Printer<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Hello, readers!</span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">We're hoping to welcome many more readers not only to this site but the Empyrean Dreams universe. A print version of our first novel-for-sale, </span><u><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">The Wreck of the </span></u><i><u><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Untranslatable</span></u></i><u><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">,</span></u><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> is in process with two different Print-on-Demand distributors. The one that you'll likely see first is CreateSpace through Amazon; we'll post a link here when the sale page goes live. The other is via IngramSpark, for eventual retail distribution (possibly including an ebook format, though that's on hold due to technical mishaps).</span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">What's next? The second Empyrean Dreams book, </span><u><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Empyrean Stories</span></u><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">, a collection of our various short stories, should be ready soon. Note that this book will include a few new stories never before published, on this site or elsewhere. </span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Now that I've got the formatting steps worked out, we should be able to turn out additional books even faster. There's enough material, between the site and unpublished work, for at least two more books: another </span><u><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Tales of the </span><i><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Scape Grace</span></i></u><i><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">, </span></i><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">and a compilation of Stchvk detective stories (my "dino-noir"). </span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Beyond that? I just started another </span><i><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Scape Grace</span></i><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> story. I might write a fourth Stchvk story and split that series into two books of two stories each. And who knows, Laine and I might get busy with another round of short stories... or finally put together the Role-Playing setting like we originally intended.</span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Note that we're only self-publishing because commercial publishers don't like content previously posted online. If these books get popular enough - if we sell enough copies - someone might overlook that prejudice and bring Empyrean Dreams into mainstream publication... not only for the reprints, but for new content.</span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">We're debating whether to pull down the stories we publish, in whole or in part, to create more incentive for sales. That's only partly to make Laine and I money; some retailers might not want to stock a book readers could get elsewhere for free. We'll update once a decision has been made. Particularly note, though, that the printed versions - even for stories we've posted here - are better edited, trimmed and sharpened, and updated for consistency with the rest of the Empyrean Dreams setting. So even if we leave content here, the books are still better! </span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Buy them! Buy them all! Please?</span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">-Nathan</span>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-79937356426590458962017-01-02T02:55:00.002-05:002017-02-13T01:03:30.818-05:00Update: A Gestating Literary Litter<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello again, readers!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Work on the official Empyrean Dreams books proceeds steadily, if not as quickly as we first hoped. I hear such things are normal for any project, much less a book. Considering that we're compiling multiple books, a longer estimate might have been wise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Still, we're crossing off tasks. The third Stchvk detective story, "Binding Threads", is complete in its first full draft. It will appear alongside "Bad Egg" and "Broken Record" in the largest of our four planned books. The <i>Scape Grace</i> stories fit nicely still into two volumes, one containing the first story, "Wreck of the <i>Untranslatable"</i> and a second containing "Escape from Grace" and the new story, "A Change of Plans".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Book number four will contain short stories from both of us, all set in the same Universe but filling in various smaller corners. This book will include the newer, unpublished stories "Labyrinthine" and "An Apostate's Dilemma". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">What's yet to do? A lot of editing and formatting, mostly. We also need to choose a printer and adjust our layouts to their preferences. Art would be nice, but a basic starfield will do if necessary. Our current target is to have at least one book ready for sale before the end of January, ideally with a few physical copies delivered to local bookstores on consignment. After that? Advertising!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Note that we will happily take suggestions for a print-on-demand service, if anyone knows one they particularly like. We'll also take suggestions for an artist, although our demands for such a person could be steep and our budget, though non-zero, is also not high. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Maybe we'll save the fancy art and style for a second edition, once the first edition has pulled in some profit... and maybe a publisher's attention?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">We can always Dream.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">-NL</span>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-68626385854302744322016-11-26T01:13:00.003-05:002022-08-14T17:45:10.965-04:00Update: NaNoWriMo and the Publication Plan<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Work on the Empyrean Dreams print books is proceeding steadily. </span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Remember how I mentioned each volume would include at least one original story, not previously published on this site? To that end, I challenged myself to write several stories as part of NaNoWriMo, the National Novel Writing Month (http://nanowrimo.org). I won the challenge with only two stories: a new tale of the <i>Scape Grace</i> (#3, "A Change in Plans") and an original short story, "An Apostate's Dilemma", which explores the Mauraug Apostasy from the inside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So those are ready. However, I'll have to break one promise, a little. The <i>Scape Grace</i> story is longer than expected. Fitting all three stories in one volume (much less four, if I included the related tangent, "A Bureaucrat's Tale") is a bit much. So, I'm planning to make "The Wreck of the *Untranslatable*" a stand-alone introductory volume, with "Escape from Grace" and "A Change in Plans" together in the second volume.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Book number three should have three stories about Stchvk, Private Investigator: "Bad Egg", "Broken Record", and an as-yet-unwritten third story. There's my next task!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">That makes book four the compiled, separate short stories of Empyrean Dreams, now additionally including "An Apostate's Dilemma", along with another unpublished story, "Labyrinthine", and all my prior short stories from this site. We'll also include any and all short stories from Laine that she selects...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">...which means I could be wrong again. If the short stories pile up too high, we'll have to split them into two volumes! In that case, I'll split the new tales across the two books.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So this three-book project is now four books and possibly five. I can't say I'm sad about having more to offer. It just means that finishing everything won't happen as fast as I originally hoped. Apologies, but we probably won't have an Empyrean Dreams book available for your holiday gift shopping.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Early next year, though! That's the plan!</span><br />
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<br />Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-75865209473948469792016-10-11T12:02:00.004-04:002022-08-14T17:45:34.230-04:00Update: A Space Station for Now<i><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">with apologies to RJD2 for the title...</span></i><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">I wanted to let readers know what's happening with Empyrean Dreams. Posting has slowed down again, but there's activity behind the scenes. I've written another long story in the Empyrean setting, titled "Labyrinthine". It won't appear here, since I'm still trying to publish it in a science-fiction magazine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">The problems with selling our already self-published work and our new stories specifically set in Empyrean have started Laine and I thinking... why not keep doing it ourselves? We're planning out several volumes of the stories we have already, plus one or two new, unpublished tales for each book. For example, in one volume, I would put together all the <i>Scape Grace</i> space pirate stories, adding one of the new stories I've had planned for ages. That way, you get the reading convenience of print (or electronic copy), plus new content, as an incentive to purchase.<br /><br />Another book would contain all the Stchvk detective stories; a third would be short stories from both Laine and I. If "Labyrinthine" doesn't sell, it becomes the bonus content for the short story book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">We're just getting started, compiling existing material and seeing how long each book would run. The next step will be editing and layout, not to mention writing and polishing the new stories. We'd love illustrations, but if that doesn't happen, it won't be an obstacle. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">We'll also be comparing publishers to get the best bargain on printing and promotion. Any feedback would be welcome, though if you are selling publishing services, please don't spam. Over-insistent salespeople have turned me away from more than one company already. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">If all goes well, though, we might have books available for purchase sometime next year. I'm planning to put some copies on shelves at local bookstores, to start, as well selling online. It will be a learning process, but it's worth the trouble for material we already have written and love sharing. If people want to pay money for it, that's a bonus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">This plan will mean fewer content updates on the site, for which I apologize. We won't disappear entirely, though. We'll give progress updates as the project continues, and there might be some stories posted as side-effects of the process.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">Watch this SPACE.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><i><b>-Nathan</b></i></span></div>
Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-81704092046368189232016-09-05T22:34:00.000-04:002017-01-17T19:15:18.702-05:00Darkness, My Friend<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Blindness is not usually a trait that saves your life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Unique situations happen, though, especially out here on the edge of known space. Even a so-called disability can become an asset. That’s going on my résumé, by the way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Sure, sometimes, being blind can endanger your life. It makes life a regular parade of nuisances, most days. At best, being blind gains you a little attention and patience from people who would otherwise walk right by… but that benefit is countered by the number of people who walk by even faster, irritated or even disturbed by your handicap. I suspect most sentients get tired of adjusting to my perspective. I know they get tired of adjusting the shared environment to accommodate my needs.<br /><br /> Well, those needs saved my life. And not sharing my disability cost my colleagues their lives. So I’m doing my best not to feel superior, for a change.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /> Those colleagues were all dock workers aboard the <i>KelVaTinLi</i>, cheap labor scooped up by the siliceous </span><a href="http://www.empyreandreams.com/2013/12/featured-species-zig.html"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Zig</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> to work their station freight. We were skilled wage slaves willing and able to handle the hazardous cargoes even the lowest-caste Zig can’t safely touch. I’m a firmware engineer, but I had to sell my services at a discount thanks to the accident that torched my retinas. I was saving up for synthorganic or maybe cybernetic replacements. After this incident, I may rethink those plans.<br /><br /> <i>KelVaTinLi</i> orbits a blue dwarf at the edge of Zig territory, which means it sits at the rim of their slice of the galactic pie. Cargoes come in from neighboring systems, some of which have only tenuous membership in this galaxy. At least one trading partner, the Cuttle, barely participates in the same dimensional frame as the rest of us. That’s where this winding tale starts.<br /><br /> ‘Cuttle’ is a Terran name, the one we Humans use, at least on <i>KelVaTinLi</i>. I’m sure there’s a more dignified label for them catalogued back home in Terran space. They’re officially called ‘Species-Culture <i>Tuch</i>’ by the Zig, with typical lack of imagination. But the Cuttle have big triangular heads with black ball eyes on either side and long, thin-limbed bodies. Like cuttlefish. So, Cuttle.<br /><br /> I have all this description on hearsay, of course. All I know is that the Cuttle smell sort of like grapes and talk like a migraine, and their cargo is so ionized you have to handle it while wearing a grounding wire. Their freight is a special sort of problem for the loading lifts I program, because the whole lifting contact structure has to be isolated from the main circuits of the API… that’s Artificial Pseudo-Intelligence, if you’re not caught up on the latest acronyms.<br /><br /> Doing tricks like that isolation is one of the reasons the Zig keep me on payroll. Fixing the loaders on the fly, when my tricks don’t work right, is the reason they keep me close to the action when Cuttle cargo is being moved. So that’s why I was right there, in Cargo Bay <i>Hek</i>, when one of the damn stasis crates worked loose from its clamp and tumbled to the deck.<br /><br /> After the crash and clatter, lots of curses went up, including mine. I didn’t need to see the mess to know something was broken. Nobody panicked, though, not at first. Even the ones who could see the crate didn’t know how badly it was damaged.<br /> <br /> The Cuttle generally know what they’re doing, but either this crate was faulty or else we’d discovered a hidden flaw in its design. Either way, that drop damaged the stasis controls. The contents of the crate were dropped from an artificially slowed time-frame into our normal time stream.<br /> <br /> And those contents were angry. Or hungry. Or both.<br /><br /> I was busy listening to diagnostics, so I didn’t hear the exchange down on the lower deck. What I assume was that the brute lifters -- Hervé, Jumah, and Wilhelm -- approached the crate to right and reload it onto the lifter. Our shift supervisor, a female </span><a href="http://www.empyreandreams.com/2013/11/featured-species-hrotata.html"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hrotata</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> named Shorullt, was probably checking the video feed to see if the lift operator, Michael, did anything obviously wrong.<br /><br /> Now, I don’t mind Shorullt. For a conniving, supercilious little mink, she’s at least competent and fair in her assessments. Don’t think that’s an insult. Hrotata literally look like a mix between a seal and a mink, and their culture and politics are so convoluted that ‘conniving’ is a survival skill. Their females have a natural superiority complex, even toward one another, much less their own males, and doubly so toward alien males like the dock crew. As an alien female, I’m spared only half of her scorn. My blindness hardly registers in her eyes (ha ha) compared to my other flaws.<br /><br /> That said, she didn’t deserve what happened. Nobody deserves that.<br /><br /> I heard a pop of decompression, followed by my inner ape screaming <i>OH SHIT</i>. I dropped to the floor, pressing the textured rubber mat into my cheek. I assumed there had been an explosion of pressurized gases. I thought I was dodging shrapnel.<br /><br /> Turns out, I was already protected from the worst.<br /><br /> The next thing I sensed was a wave of electromagnetic disturbance, something like the ripple you get off a Cuttle crate if you walk too close. It makes your body hair stand up and your nerves tingle. Except this blast was twice as strong and many times bigger, washing over us like… well, like an ionic wind.<br /><br /> After that, everyone else started screaming. Again, at first, I thought they’d been hit: by flying debris, by radiation, maybe just by an energy source. But I hadn’t heard any crash or ricochet like physical objects smashing around. I wasn’t hurting, myself, so it wasn’t hard radiation… maybe. Even if it was, it’d have to be a high dose to hurt anyone right away. I hadn’t felt any heat or direct current, either. What was I shielded from, such that it injured everyone else -- even Shorullt up on the opposite riser -- without touching me at all?<br /><br /> I was thinking along the wrong lines. I wasn’t protected by any physical barrier, unless you count the gap in transduction from my lenses to my optic nerve. Everyone else saw something.<br /><br /> I’m not sure whether they saw something so horrible that the sight damaged their minds, or something so intense or untranslatable that it damaged their brains. Given their actions afterward, I suspect the stimulus was more like a jamming signal, overloading their sensory apparatus with sights no Human, Hrotata, or Zig was meant to see.<br /><br /> I didn’t. I couldn’t. I don’t know if my lack of sight did anything more against that assault than just closing your eyes might, but I didn’t need any reflex. Plus, if I <i>could</i> have looked, I might have been tempted to take another peek… which would have been fatal. It kept firing off its pulse, over and over. You can look for yourself, in the security recordings. It’s like an anti-Gorgon, sending sapients into mindless seizures rather than paralyzing them.<br /><br /> Gorgon. It’s a mythical Terran monster. Its gaze turns victims to stone. Forget it; too much explanation required.<br /><br /> Anyway, besides screaming, my co-workers were also thrashing around. I could hear them smacking into obstacles, control panels, and each other. In her spasms, Shorullt triggered several commands through her control panel. I heard the loader start moving, then collide with something organic. Don’t tell me who; I really don’t want to know.<br /><br /> The loader’s movement spurred me to action, though, in a way the other sounds couldn’t. I could do something about that threat. I jumped to override the improper commands and disabled the loader. My action didn’t stop the chaos in the loading dock, though. At best, I reduced the disorder slightly.<br /><br /> The creature, meanwhile, was producing more entropy on its own.<br /><br /> I know it attacked Jumah next, because his wails of pain and terror momentarily coalesced into intelligible words: “It’s got me! Help, someone help!” Then, there was another wash of electrical potentials and a sizzling noise. Jumah went quiet.<br /><br /> The other screams died down to whimpers at that point, overlaid by the thump and whoosh of multiple people running. I couldn’t tell which of the other two lifters, Hervé or Wilhelm, was the sole survivor below. Given a quiet room and a calm moment, I might be able to tell their gaits apart. The conditions weren’t ideal for that trick.<br /><br /> There were plenty of competing noises. I heard the click and hiss of Shorullt moving, her long, low body propelled by short, churning legs. Multiple booted feet were hauling their babbling, crying owners in various directions: Michael and Lorna and Li Min. Impacts against heavy plastic and metal objects indicated that either victims or attacker were knocking over storage crates in their haste.<br /><br /> I was mostly concerned whether anyone -- or anything -- was moving in my direction. It didn’t sound like that was the case. As a result, I froze.<br /><br /> I probably wasn’t any less afraid than anyone else on that dock. But I was <i>rationally </i>afraid. I wasn’t mentally scrambled by whatever hit everyone else. Holding still, staying out of the way, and not joining the melee made sense at the time. If I misjudged, I might have made myself an easy, stationary target.<br /><br /> In hindsight, both fears were valid. The creature did pursue whatever moved, first. There were several more bursts and crackles. Some of the running noises ended after each. Afterward, though, the thing started to come after the victims who chose to hold still and spasm in place.<br /><br /> I could hear Shorullt screaming from her station: “<i>What is it? Help us! Great Lady protect me!</i>” I couldn’t tell who she was talking to, except for the obvious prayer to some Hrotata deity. I wondered if she was on comms calling for help, but I doubted it. Like everyone else except me, she seemed to have lost the sense to take proper protective measures.<br /><br /> <i>I</i> was the one who signaled Security. With some doubts about my own sanity, I also triggered the inner locks on the deck’s access doors. Whatever was in there with us wasn’t going to get out unless someone let it out. I suppose if it was intelligent enough to hack the doors or persuade one of the crew to unlock them, it might have bypassed my defense measures. But it didn’t seem likely that anyone else was in any shape to open a door.<br /><br /> Nobody seemed to be <i>trying</i> to escape through the actual exit doors. They were just running around, hitting the edges of the dock area, then getting caught and… I’m not sure. Flash-fried? Disintegrated? Bent around the edges of another dimension? I’m really hoping for some answers, after we’re done here.<br /><br /> I suspect even you, official inquirers, don’t know what got loose down there. I doubt the Cuttle properly registered what they were transporting. It’s not even clear whether they fully understand our registration protocols. They might consider whatever-it-was a cuddly household pet. Or a form of entertainment. Or a kitchen appliance. Who knows?<br /><br /> What I know is that it is fatal to Humans and other forms of sapient, carbon-based life.<br /><br /> After about a minute -- two hectads, if you prefer -- the running had mostly stopped but the attacks had not. My verbal feedback from the deck sensors indicated three live, respirating, stationary lifeforms and one energetic, mobile anomaly. Then there were two, plus one.<br /><br /> Holding still was not going to preserve my life. I had to get to the door. But I was still too terrified to move.<br /><br /> My computer reported that the anomaly was moving again. It was moving toward the opposite side of the room, toward the other remaining lifeform. I had a chance.<br /><br /> It’s possible I condemned Shorullt to die. She might have managed to escape if I hadn’t saved myself. But I doubt it. Nobody seemed to be in their right minds; no one except me. I doubt Shorullt could have managed the clarity of mind to reach the opposite door and issue the proper commands to open it… even with the lights still on. I certainly hope not.<br /><br /> Otherwise, I’d hate myself forever for turning out the lights.<br /><br /> It was an easy command to issue: Disable all illumination. Lights off. My strategy might not have accomplished anything; the predator might not be using the same visible spectrum we… you other sapients employ. But I had to try. I had already seen how fast the thing could move. Unless I slowed it down somehow, it could finish off Shorullt and run me down before I even reached the exit.<br /><br /> And, as you’ve likely realized by now, I didn’t need the lights to find my way out.<br /><br /> After several standard weeks working the same standardized dock layout, I knew the placement of every step, every walkway, every guide rail and every walkway. I even knew where the charging outlets were. Making my way to the exit was simple. I could do it running. I literally did.<br /><br /> Once the lights were out, I bolted as fast as I dared toward the far door. I could hear crackling sparks behind me, accompanied by Shorullt’s dying gasp. Then came footsteps: the sizzling taps I identified with the entity’s movement. It sounded like it was far behind me. It also sounded like it was moving slowly: slower than it had before. I’d like to think I bought some time with my maneuver.<br /><br /> Or maybe, it wasn’t sure what to do with me. I wasn’t screaming and flailing and panicking like its other prey. Maybe it was confused by the ineffectiveness of its usual trick, like an angler fish seeing a blindfish ignore its brilliant lure.<br /><br /> Blind fish or blind woman, I wasn’t ignoring my potential death. I was getting away as quickly as I could manage. Hearing my footfalls echo against the approaching door, I shouted: “Door override: <i>Hek Tuch Vi Ti Lo</i>, Elizabeth Kern.”<br /><br /> Hearing my override code, the security computer opened the exit door, just long enough for me to race through. I managed to breathe out, “Close!” and it sealed shut as quickly as super-magnets could drag the door panels together.<br /><br /> I heard the thing smack up against those bulkhead doors with a crackle of frustrated charge. My continued existence is the evidence that it couldn’t find a way through.<br /><br /> I mean, those doors can withstand vacuum and a huge range of temperatures, not to mention blocking most forms of radiation. But I didn’t know what that creature was. I was only betting that it couldn’t get out. I didn’t know what it was capable of. I still don’t. For all I know, it might have capabilities that standard physics doesn’t allow. What I do know is, it can’t cope well with darkness… or blindness.<br /><br /> So, sometimes, the lack of an ability can be asset unto itself. I don’t know yet how well that discovery translates outside of this particular work environment… but I’m planning to find out.<br /><br /> I wish you well catching the thing again. I’d suggest contacting the Cuttle and asking how they got it into their stasis crate in the first place. It’s better if you make that call. I might say something undiplomatic. If absolutely necessary, I’ll stick around <i>KelVaTinLi</i> long enough to implement their solution, if my engineering expertise is needed.<br /><br /> Remotely, that is. I won’t be going back there personally. While my <i>lack </i>of ability might be useful, you’ll have to replicate that trait for yourselves.<br /><br /> Good luck!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><i>[Thanks to Sonyja Lerulv Freyjadottir for reading and commentary assistance. <b>-NL</b>]</i></span></div>
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Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-52797373084594489342016-08-21T23:04:00.003-04:002022-08-14T17:46:00.165-04:00Update: Publication and Cross-promotion<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Greetings, Empyrean Readers!</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> I'm pleased to announce that one of my non-Empyrean short stories, "The Morrison Hotel", has been accepted for publication in an upcoming edition of The First Line literary magazine ( <a href="http://www.thefirstline.com/">http://www.thefirstline.com</a> ). </span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> This good news is Empyrean Dreams related in several ways. First, there's the fascinating coincidence that my first commercially published story shares a common theme with my first self-published story, on this site: Artificial Intelligence. Take a look at "AIIA", if you haven't read it already. I was actually thinking about Pangur Ban, the protagonist of "AIIA", when I wrote about the eponymous Morrison Hotel, so they're practically half-siblings.</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> Second, there's a chance the publication will mention this site in my biography. If you're reading here, now, thanks to The First Line, then welcome! I hope you'll find much to enjoy among my past writings in this shared setting. I also hope you'll read and enjoy the work by my co-creator, Laine. </span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> For those who were already readers here, take a look at The First Line. The journal itself is a fascinating concept and you'll find many more short stories to enjoy there. </span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> I'm already working on a story for the Winter issue, though, so if you think of submitting, you'll have some competition. </span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">-NL</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">p.s. I'm actually working on an Empyrean story for a different competition, in a different publication. If that one is accepted, I'll post another update with a pointer. If not... I'll self-publish it here!</span></div>
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<br />Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-25398754113886753572016-04-25T12:00:00.000-04:002018-06-12T21:24:33.963-04:00Featured Species - Vislin<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Name: Vislin</b></span><b>
(Little Brothers)</b></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Appearance:</b>
</span>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The Vislin are a race of bipedal reptilians. They have
smooth, scaly hides that are naturally a striped grey, white and
black but can change according to the whim of the Vislin. Their
bodies, limbs and necks are long and slender and tend towards lean
muscle. They have deep-set binocular eyes, a bony crest on the backs
of their heads, and vestigial neck frills that expand when they
become alarmed. Their fingers are tipped with claws that in modern
society are often clipped down and occasionally colored. There is
very little obvious sexual dimorphism in the Vislin; it is quite
difficult for someone without familiarity or medical tools to tell
their sexes apart. They have small, slender tails that reach midway
down to their first set of knees. The Vislin will often change their
skin color for social occasions to show allegiance, present an
affront, or fit in; Vislin have been known to shade their skin white
or black for Human funerals, for example.</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>History:</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> The
non-sapient predecessors of the Vislin are a species of territorial
reptilian pack hunters. Comparison has been made between these
creatures and Terran wolves. The early sapient Vislin formed
communal tribal societies that feuded and traded with one another
and prepared for the inevitable yearly migration of the Taratumm.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> The
Taratumm would pass through Vislin territory in great numbers,
heedless of much of the damage caused by their passing. Their
grazing and gathering would put a crimp on local populations of
herbivores. Being tool-users as well, the Taratumm had strategy and weaponry
to defend themselves with. The feud between the two sentient races
has defined much of their culture and history, even in its current
suppressed state.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> As
the Vislin civilizations expanded they discovered tricks of
architecture such as walled fortresses. This helped to protect them
from the numerous dangers of their often-violent ecosystem. It also
gave the Vislin opportunity for prosperity and expansion,
which provided them with the chance to explore pursuits less direct
than simply hunting and feeding. Animal husbandry became
commonplace and dangerous predators were cleared from their jungles. They began to ask questions about the physical natures of things and
so developed their early pursuits of science.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> The
most important consideration for the early Vislin alchemists was
developing a way to remain active and capable at night. Fires
provided only a small vigor and remained inefficient. Central heating through hypocaust networks was
developed early on, and panels to absorb and store solar heat
followed soon thereafter. The Vislin civilization began to trade
with the Hrotata as well, and often, insight into these and other
projects was provided by their furry allies.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> Vislin
civilization spread, forming city-sized arcologies which shared heat
to allow their race to maintain activity during their normally torpid
night period. This period is looked back on as a golden age for
their kind. This was also the period that the long standing feud
with the Taratumm began to take an ugly tone.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> The
Taratumm, like the Vislin, had spread to all the available continents
of Hrotata Prime. In most places, there existed an uneasy truce between
the races, always brokered by the Hrotata. However, the tribes and nations
rarely actually acknowledged each others’ sovereignty in practice. The weight of too many broken treaties bore down upon the
feebly held goodwill between the races and brought it to the breaking
point. Vislin guerilla squads, wearing suits that would produce and
maintain heat at night and armed with incendiary and chemical weapons,
would swoop down on Taratumm herds at their night time encampments
and disappear back into the blackness, causing chaos as the Taratumm
battle frenzy would turn against itself.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> Had
it not been for the discovery of off-world communications, the Vislin
race might not have been swayed from eliminating the
Taratumm from their world and history. The points the Hrotata
diplomats made were logical and straightforward, and the Vislin were
(mostly) pleased at having the deadly Taratumm as bodyguards,
sentries and infantry in dealing with a galaxy full of hostile
species.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> Since
the formation of the Great Family, the Vislin have served as deadly
infiltrators, peerless engineers, precise pilots and dedicated
researchers. The Vislin mental focus and appreciation for teamwork
has brought both the Great Family and the Collective great regard.
Their capability in the visual arts has netted them respect as
holographers, architects, interior designers and aesthetic
consultants as well. They have many well-renowned athletes and
martial artists. If anything has brought disapproval upon the Vislin
it is their callousness and disregard for the well-being of those who
they have not identified as part of their pack. Many diplomatic
incidents have been caused by their seemingly sociopathic tendencies.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Technology:</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> The
Vislin solutions to their race’s need to overcome their natural
limitations are arguably the basis of the Great Family’s energy
technology. Their struggle to remain productive
during their world’s long, cool nights propelled them forwards to
discover ways of harnessing solar, chemical, and biological power
in their fossil fuel poor world. Military applications of these technologies helped to
develop their first energy shields and weaponry.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Biology:</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> The
Vislin are a carbon-based, DNA-based reptilian race. They possess
the usual quirk of the reptilian life of their home world: extreme
stress and danger stimuli provoke a stress reaction that causes them
to temporarily create their own body heat. As they are far less
physically dangerous as individuals than as a group, this effect
produces a flight reflex in them; they tend to rush to the nearest
place of safety and attempt to meld in to their surroundings. They
begin to run almost as soon as this reaction occurs, their long legs
pumping the heated and highly oxygenated blood through their systems.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> The
Vislin frills and crest started their evolutionary lives as methods
of absorbing solar energy to heat them up more quickly during the
day. Although this application is less necessary nowadays, they
still serve as sexual characteristics in both male and female, with
size and ostentatiousness of display being the reproductive
preference.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> When
they reproduce, the Vislin female provides a clutch of 4-6 eggs.. They have a mating cycle of approximately two of their
own years but are encouraged by Great Family culture to engage in
birth control as a precaution against potential overpopulation.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> The
Vislin are not nearly as hardy as the Hrotata or Taratumm but still
have the toxin resistance common to the more evolved natives of their
world. Their bodies are built for speed and precision and they fall
short in the realm of raw physical prowess.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> They
are primarily carnivores but occasionally ingest plant material to
aid in digestion. Their physiology is well suited their ancestors’
preferred diet of herd animals and vermin.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Culture:</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Pack
structure dominates much of Vislin society. Each individual is
expected to contribute what they can to their pack. In modern Vislin
society, this applies to both social group and family structure.
Even the rare loner is expected to contribute in some ways; Vislin
with the almost aberrant urge for privacy most often become scouts of
some sort, bringing back intelligence to their family.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> Vislin
are raised communally. After fertilization, the Vislin females lay
eggs which are transferred to a central living space: the nursery.
The nursery plays an important role in their society, being equal
parts town square, living room, school and temple. Almost all social
events are performed in the nurseries. Any station, ship or colony
that houses more than a few Vislin has its own nursery. This can
provoke contention for those who are not familiar with their race, as
the nurseries are also extremely private; not even Hrotata are
permitted to enter. The nursery is sacrosanct.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Child-rearing
is a communal activity; it is simply expected that one will spend
some of their time directly tutoring and monitoring the young and
unhatched eggs. On stations and ships, Vislin will often spend at
least a couple of free hours a day there. Not all monitoring and
child-rearing activities involve direct guidance and interaction. An
engineer may bring a project to the nursery and work on it there,
answering questions that the children have and provoking their
curiosity. An artist may bring a blank hide and paints there and
involve the children in a group project. </span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Vislin grow up in these communal settings and spend much
of their lives frequenting them. When they reach their pre-adult
stage those that have been born around the same time (clutches) are
taken outside the nursery and pack territory on forays with adults,
usually only a single adult leading an entire clutch at a time.
Eventually one among the clutch is chosen by the adults to lead, and
they are sent on a quest or mission themselves. The subject of this
first autonomous Hunt is often a serious task and can sometimes take
a few years to complete. It is also one of the most popular subjects
of Vislin art (not to mention other races’ art involving them). In
modern times these forays have even been known to be interstellar in
scope.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Vislin are known to be fantastic. Vislin visual acuity
and the width of the spectrum that they can perceive allows many of them
to find careers as animators, filmmakers, and architects. They learn
to paint and draw as they learn to write, and often with the same
tools: the traditional hide canvas and pigments. The basics of
reading, writing, and algebra are learned on the hide. Hide canvases
are a universal symbol in Vislin culture. After childhood, writing
anything on hide suggests that it is of great importance.
Certificates and degrees are painted on tanned hides, as would are
important proverbs or commandments.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Vislin children play-fight constantly; as a result there
is a strong culture of martial hand-to-hand combat traditions in
their culture. Sparring and duels are part of day-to-day life for
them. They help to establish dominance and pecking order and relieve
tension for both the participants and the viewers. These fights are
rarely dangerous as punches are pulled and bites are turned to nips.
Occasionally a formal duel is called, usually as a result of
irreconcilable differences or deadly insults, and these may involve
any manner of weapons and are often fought to first blood or death.
Giving in to one’s stress reflex and skittering away in mindless
terror is considered a pitiable failure and it is poor form to
kill or wound one who succumbs to it. Likewise, their rules accept
honorable surrender.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The dominant Vislin religion is quite similar to that of
the Taratumm: a reverence of the spirits of family and the world.
Every pack has a totem spirit who protects their ancestors in death
and guides the living, and many Vislin have a personal totem as well
that helps them to find their own worth and power. The pack shrine
is almost always located in the nursery, and contains representations
of all of the totems of its members. Hrotata deities have long been
accepted as potential totems, and their religious custom of sharing
offerings with their deities has been adopted by many as well,
although it is usually only performed at the pack shrine. There are
some among the Vislin that have found an interest in the Mauraug
faith of Dominion. They are a tiny minority, but tend to be far more
vocal about their beliefs than mainstream Vislin are. There are some
Vislin followers of the Awakener philosophy as well. The idea of a
galactic or universal mental harmony is pleasing to the Vislin
hunting-pack oriented psyche, and there is practical appeal in
working with a team that is able to communicate with the ease and
speed that telepathy allows for.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> When
the Vislin come of age, it common to impress upon them that they
will need to some day abandon their current family structure and
create bonds with outsiders. Even the most isolated Vislin colony
will have Hrotata visitors; but this does little to overcome their
natural distrust of outsiders. A Vislin tends to form bonds quickly
with those that they identify with, often through times of danger or
strife. They refer to this as the “Second Meeting”, and the
openness of the Vislin afterwards can be quite disconcerting to one
who does not know what to expect.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Psychology:</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Vislin
have excellent attention spans and have an ability to focus almost
unmatched by other beings and races. Coupled with their natural pack
or group orientation, this allows multiple Vislin to function very
effectively as a single unit, as can be seen in both military
application with their commando squads and scientific exploration
with their research teams.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Their
peculiarities of social bonding affect their mindset greatly as well.
Anyone who a Vislin has not bonded with emotionally is not
identified instinctively as part of their social group. It is very
difficult on a biological level for a Vislin to acknowledge the
importance of the needs of a living being outside of their hardwired
pack structure. Although intellectually they may comprehend the
necessity behind such behavior, on an emotional level, threat to an
outsider never manifests as any sort of concern.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Opinions:</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Awakeners:
The Hrotata trust them. We remain here on guard should they betray
that trust.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Hrotata:
They are truly the best option for the elevation and protection of
our kind.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Humans:
Strange creatures. Soft, slow, children, a little stupid… but
children should be protected.</span><br />
<br />
Mauraug: ...</div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Ningyo:
If I were unable to focus, I’d act like a clown, too.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Taratumm:
Animate a boulder and give it simple needs and a berserk fury that
comes when those needs are not met. It is well that the Hrotata have
leashed these deadly, block-headed brutes.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Tesetsi:
It is not just their cowardice that disgusts me. They don't care
about their families! They abandon their children!</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Zig:
Allies that we must keep at any cost. Where the Mauraug are
fractious, superstitious, and idealistic, the Zig are unified,
pragmatic, and rational. Where the Mauraug can implant guns in their
arms, the Zig can freeze whole worlds solid. I know who I want on
our side.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08625886238673898988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-90593010620645821262016-04-06T15:29:00.002-04:002022-08-14T17:46:21.095-04:00Update: Temporarily Exiting Empyrean Space<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Hello readers!</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Once again, thank you for following the stories at Empyrean Dreams. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">As I've warned before, the conclusions of my past two stories, <u>A Bureaucrat's Tale</u> and <u>Broken Record</u>, mark the beginning of a hiatus from this site. I'll be devoting my time to other writing, with the aim of seeing something finally in print... not to mention seeking other employment if available. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Unless Laine finds time to continue past stories or start new ones, this site will be quiet for several months. I expect I won't be contributing again until after the Summer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">That's not to say I don't have more Empyrean stories demanding to be told. The first chapter of a new Stchvk detective story has already been written, and outlines of that story and two others wait on my hard drive. One of those is the next journey of the <i>Scape Grace</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">I'm not even done with science fiction, although my next work in that genre will be scientifically 'harder' than Empyrean's pulp-ish space opera. Another project is a live action diplomacy game. Who knows? If that project takes off, we might get the opportunity to realize the original goal of Empyrean Dreams: an original ray-guns and rocket-ships RPG, suitable especially for live play. LARP with aliens. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">I call dibs on playing Stchvk. I already know where I can get a suitable dinosaur mask.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><b>-Nathan</b></span><br />
<br />Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2142251318601917690.post-65682974706002529522016-04-06T15:07:00.000-04:002016-04-25T11:55:06.047-04:00Broken Record - Chapter 21 - "Skipped Track"<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> “He’s
coming up… he cracked it. I </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">told</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> you this one would pass.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It
took him six days.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Subjective
time! Even if I grant that standard, you
can’t count the imposed time lapses.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Fair
enough, but what about all the wandering around? He even had somatic cues to work with. </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Someone</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
didn’t titrate their dosages properly.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I did
so. <i>You</i> try to balance multiple hormonal
systems in a Vislin while he’s dealing with mortal threat, mating urges, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> pack loyalties... while covering up
a fractured rib! I can paralyze the
extremities, but you can’t immobilize a ribcage while someone’s breathing!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> T</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">he voices were probably talking about me, given the throbbing ache in
my flank and the numb heaviness of my limbs.
Given my recent adventures, waking up in the hospital – my
most likely location</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> – was preferable to not waking up at all. Then again, from what I remembered, I should
be suffering from more injuries than just a rib fracture.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">did</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I remember? A confrontation with Pkstzk. Murder – her mate’s, hers, and her attempt on
my life. Something else… a falsely
accused Taratumm. A confrontation with…
a Hrotata? Krrutoki. Going out a second-story window in frenzied
terror.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>The
events of the last few days blurred together with the events of the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">other</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> last few days, until I woke up
enough to separate the narratives. My current
injuries were consistent with the storyline where I jumped out a window. That would normally suggest that my more recent set of
memories happened earlier, but then why wasn’t I crippled – at least – from the
injuries I sustained in that first sequence? In the case involving Krrutoki, I remembered
moving fast, with no prior leg injury. But I
didn’t remember any reference to the greasy little Hrotata in the
timeline with Pkstzk, so his case couldn't have happened first.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The
discrepancies, taken together, suggested that Pkstzk's case, and possibly
everything leading up to it, was part of a false memory. If that case was a dream, it had
been a </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">hell</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> of a detailed dream. Long, too.
At least that would explain the missing time and the intrusion of my
aching ribs.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Wait a
second. The voices talking about
“covering up” my pains spoke after I started waking up. Those weren't imaginary. I stopped floating between drowsing and
wakefulness and snapped myself fully alert.
My eyes popped open and took in what I hoped were my real
surroundings. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What I
saw was mostly ceiling: pale grey concrete. Around the
periphery were bright overhead lights, glinting off silvery steel appliances
hanging from the ceiling and suspended from my bed. I was definitely in a bed; something soft was
supporting my spine. Something
not-so-soft was cradling my neck and shoulders.
When I started to turn my head to see more, I encountered cold, spiky
resistance.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Oh,
hey, he’s moving! Don’t move yet,
all right?” The voice I heard had the soft
liquidity and accent of a Hrotata, but was too pleasant to belong to
Krrutoki. I </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">heard padded footsteps
approaching, then fuzzy paws brushed against my cheek and neck.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Turning</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
my eyes that direction, as far as they could go, got me an image of red-brown arms working on
some kind of circlet attached to my temple.
I felt a stinging pain in that area and tried to jerk away, but the
restraints kept my head in place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Fros…”
I mumbled, slurring the curse slightly.
My mouth was dry and my jaw slow to respond.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Sorry,
sorry. Just hold still while I get the
leads out. No real damage done, it just
tweaks the nerves when you disengage them too fast.” The speaker was doing his best to be
reassuring, despite the disturbing words he was using.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
managed to calm down and obey, if only because struggling was unpleasant. There were a few more stabs and prickles as
my attendant worked, then the click of a latch being released.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I felt
pressure disappear from my neck and skull, a pressure I hadn’t realized was
present until it was gone. Tentatively
turning my neck, I found that I had gained a few centimeters’ range of
motion. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now I
could see the Hrotata speaker, a red-brown male of uncertain age. He had a long muzzle and elongated eyes,
traits uncommon among his species in Layafflr City. He smiled at my scrutiny, flicking his tail
into view and watching my eyes track its tip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Almost
lucid,” he announced to someone across the room. I turned my head the opposite direction, but
whoever he was talking to was outside my limited visual arc. I was pretty sure the other speaker was Vislin, but I hadn’t been listening closely enough to pick out any
other clues.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I… I’m
lucid,” I protested, “Let me up.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In
response, my bed started to shift, lifting my upper half slowly upward. My view of the room shifted correspondingly,
letting me see the rest of the ceiling, then the far wall. The white-finished
metal walls supported my guess: it still looked like a hospital. I was wearing a simple gown, which covered
enough for modesty’s sake, but was pretty embarrassing even so.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This
hospital wasn’t Vaktrri Medical, or my local clinic, or even, I suspected, the
hospital nearest to Isstravil. It
might have been a prison clinic, but I thought not, given its cleanliness and
modern-looking equipment. For that matter, the sheer volume and variety of equipment
surrounding me argued against this being any simple medical facility.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
couldn’t start to identify the devices installed around the rectangular
space. The various instruments seemed to be
centered on me, in a bed in the center of everything. The ‘circlet’ I had been wearing was connected
to a monitor system with wires stretching both upward and outward.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Above me was some kind of
funnel-shaped apparatus with a cylindrical barrel angled toward
the spot where my head previously rested. It
actually looked like the business end of a plasma thrower, a comparison that
made me immediately tense and queasy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Other monitoring devices were
attached to my wrists, chest, and neck, with bundled wires draping over the
sides of my bed and running outward to the walls.
These sensors presumably joined the readouts from my head, displayed on
terminal screens near where the Hrotata stood.
As I became agitated, something blipped on his monitor, and he reacted by
lecturing me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Don’t panic,” he suggested. “You’re safe here. Trying to move too much at first will hurt,
not to mention give you more vertigo.”
His delivery sounded like he was giving a rehearsed speech, like any
experienced medical technician.
Medical? Or laboratory tech? The space looked less like a hospital room
and more like a cybernetic workroom, the more I saw of it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I ignored his recommendations and
tried to sit up further. I discovered
that my legs wouldn’t move. They were further restrained in heavy bindings
over top of mesh casts. Why was I so
immobilized? Was I really a patient, or
a prisoner?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“SSsss!” I complained, “Why am I
locked into this bed? Where am I, for
that matter?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My struggles made my side hurt
worse. It was a sharp pain, a real pain,
not a blurred ache like I’d been experiencing for… days? Subjective days?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I looked at my arms. Other than several adhesive pads attached to
my wrists, they looked unmarked, aside from the usual few missing scales. No bullet wound. My back also didn’t hurt all over. My legs, though… if I wasn’t being restrained
in some bizarre way, it looked like my legs had been broken, and recently.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>That injury fit with the fall from
Krrutoki’s apartment. I vaguely
remembered snapping both ankles. So that
was the real, or at least the recent, timeline.
Either I’d healed up my shot arm without any scarring or else that injury never happened.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I put the pieces together myself before
the techs decided on their explanation.
I had been dreaming. More than
that, I’d been dreaming a very detailed, very directed story, a fiction with
greater precision than any nightmare.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I thought about virtual
environments at first, but what I’d experienced was even more detailed than any
VR simulation. I’d tried out a few
immersive entertainments in the past, when my curiosity and finances
coincided. While impressive, those
projections would never fool a viewer into thinking they were real. There were still too many discrepancies, too many
departures from true perception, to be overlooked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But there <i>was </i>all that equipment
around, plausibly the right appliances to directly manipulate a nervous
system. Maybe these were the geniuses
who had cracked perfect VR: imaging beamed straight to the brain and coded well
enough to bypass any warning systems.
But then, why were they using it on </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">me?</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Why concoct that particular scenario? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> My dream hadn’t been enjoyable, much less
entertaining. I was still shuddering
from the thought of it, although no longer feeling the side effects – or
even the aftereffects – of frenzy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The more I thought about it, the
angrier I became. Whether deliberate or
accidental, if these jokers had put me through all that trauma, then I owed
them equivalent pain in return.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This facility couldn’t be official. Surely, this planet couldn’t have become so
corrupt that citizens – even criminal suspects or convicts – could be
kidnapped and subjected to non-consensual, agonizing experiments. Even as a punishment for an actual crime,
what I had just experienced would be considered unusually cruel. My worst fears, instincts, and hatreds
had been pulled out and laid bare for me to retch over. It had been the emotional equivalent of
flaying, of vivisection.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“LET ME UP!” I screeched. “I want my armor, I want my gun, I want my
freedom, and I want a frosted good explanation, in whatever order is fastest!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now the Vislin technician came
around to my view, walking quickly from behind my bed to my left front.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was a male, patch-scaled and
slight. He raised his claws in
supplication as he spoke soothingly.
“Please try to relax and trust us.
Believe me that our intent is not to cause you harm. In fact, getting up will indeed hurt
you. If we explain too much, too soon, or too
poorly, that could hurt you as well. We
are waiting for our superior, who will answer all your questions and do so in
the best possible way.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">His voice sounded vaguely familiar,
but I couldn’t place it. Was it someone
I knew from reality or from the dream?
His measured tones did their job well, convincing me to at least settle
down and give them a chance to explain. It had </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">better</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> be a good explanation,
though.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Vislin moved further across the
room, checking a wall-mounted computer screen.
He toggled a comm program and spoke aloud: “Could Doctor Ruktpah please
hurry to the simulation lab, a bit faster?
Our guest is fully awake and becoming agitated.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A female voice of indeterminate
species answered him, “Understood. I
will advise Ruktpah to avoid delays.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes, thank you,” the Vislin
answered.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thank you, mistress</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">,” the Hrotata tech teased his colleague. He had backed away to the monitoring station
to my right rear, settling there on his haunches. Now he rose and moved to a separate device. I noticed that a tube led from that box to my
legs, somewhere underneath the restraints and wrappings. It was clear plastic, probably hollow and
carrying fluid. What kind of fluid?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Are you giving me drugs?” I
demanded. The Hrotata looked up with a
trace of guilt on his furry features, if I read them correctly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Well, yes, analgesics to manage
your pain. And a hypnotic, while you
were being induced…”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>“Could you wait for Ruktpah,
please?” asked the Vislin, interrupting his colleague in irritated tones. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“He’s going to get the idea soon
enough,” the Hrotata protested. “No reason
to act all mysterious and secretive now.
In fact, research suggests that denying information just boosts the
resistance index…”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Don’t cite Vkzprt to me,
egg-breath,” the Vislin screeched back.
The argument didn’t sound too serious, like the banter of co-workers
rather than violent dispute. He added,
“I was commenting on her research before you’d even seen your first
psychograph.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I stayed quiet. Even in my agitated, disoriented, apparently
drugged state, I realized that letting them ramble could tell me more than
interrupting to demand answers. They
sounded less like evil scientists and more like post-graduate students. Granted, they were treating me more like a
lab animal than a valued participant, but at least I wasn’t a captive hero tied
to the Torture Machine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yes, I watch some very bad entertainments,
on occasion.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I’m just saying, we’re more likely
to screw up his reactions by stalling than by saying something the wrong
way. He’s a resilient psyche; you’ve
seen the ‘graphs. We’re not going to do
any long-term damage by choosing the wrong trigger word. Worst case, Ruktpah can correct the misstep.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A resilient psyche, was I? I supposed he was right, for all that I felt
my psyche badly bludgeoned and as fragmented as my legs. I was already assembling a rational storyline
out of my various experiences. Now that
I was no longer having portions of my past blocked off… probably by their
frosted drugs and machines… I was putting together an increasingly believable explanation
for what had happened.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I had been pursuing a Hrotata, Krrutoki, who somehow drove Grust of Herd Torbur into a violent Taratumm frenzy in public,
pushing the stomper into attacking the mate of Krrutoki’s unattainable love
interest. I may be a perverse,
romantically overdriven dupe, but Krrutoki was a twisted extreme of that mania. His manipulation got Grust arrested, on trial for attempted murder. Herd Torbur hired me to exonerate their hapless member, which put me... eventually... onto Krrutoki's trail.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>My confrontation with Krrutoki
resulted in the revelation that he was psychically gifted, able to induce
extreme emotional states in victims. It
seemed that his projective empathy was limited to the feelings he himself was
experiencing at the time: lust and jealousy transferred to Grust, violent rage to the Taratumm who attacked me in a bar where I annoyed Krrutoki, and finally, panicked
terror transferred onto me, when I confronted Krrutoki in his home. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was an unproductive
revelation at the time, since as soon as I knew what was happening, I was already running
away, leaping out of Krrutoki’s open window to crash to the street below. Tttt, <i>that</i> memory finally explained the familiar feeling during the 'simulation', when I
went out of the window at Taburket’s. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was dealing with psionics. That might explain why the simulation was so
complete, so detailed, and so convincing.
I wasn’t sure about that explanation, though.
Suspiciously little information on psychic ability circulates in the
public sphere - likely deliberately so - but I was fairly certain nobody could
project so much information, for so long, into another sapient’s mind. It would be a major public hazard if any
sapient could generate such powerful illusions.
You could completely paralyze or control someone with that kind of mirage.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The machines were a clue. Combine VR with psionics… and what? Could you pull off the spell I’d experienced with those two integrated components?
And if you could, why keep it secret?
Why use it this way? Why use it
on </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">me?</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Vislin tech answered his counterpart as I mused: “</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> aren’t cleared for those decisions,
nor am I. Even if you’re right, our
wiser course is to remain silent and allow the senior professional to
work. That way, we avoid censure… not to
mention, worse consequences should you be wrong.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I’d listen to Kzshtst, myself,”
came a third, rumbling voice. Definitely
Taratumm. I knew that even before its
owner entered the room, stepping in from a doorway in the room's far left corner.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">While the name I’d heard, Ruktpah,
roughly fit the Taratumm naming pattern, it was ambiguous enough that I’d assumed Vislin or Hrotata.
Surely, the senior researcher, the superior in a research laboratory… a
psychic research laboratory?... wouldn’t be a dull stomper.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yet the new arrival neatly
disemboweled my prejudices. He was a
massive male Taratumm, thick of limb and crest, but clearly not thick of
mind. He wore a neatly tailored suit of
synthetic armor, the kind of garment that suggested wealth, taste, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> the good sense to leave
protective functions intact while not flaunting their defensive nature. The armor’s color, a silvery lavender, even
complimented the wearer's natural coloration, a bluish grey, like fireplace
ash.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Doctor Ruktpah?” I presumed. “Glad you finally made it. Your colleagues here were having trouble
dealing with me.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Taratumm superior plodded to
the foot of my bed and stared down at me, not threatening or hostile, just
considering. I couldn’t tell if he was
trying to be intimidating or just came by it naturally. His expression seemed to be neutral, maybe
even a bit unhappy, but certainly not angry.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Finally, he spoke, adjusting his
volume to something comfortable for my proximity: “Private detective
Stchvk. Glad to finally meet you, in
person and awake. I understand you have
had a difficult few days… some of which I need to apologize for.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Which days?” I asked
sarcastically. “The fake ones where I
nearly went out of my mind... or the real ones where I tracked down a
psychic criminal without any help?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He blinked, faster than I’d ever
seen any part of a Taratumm move. Then
he raised his head and bobbed slightly in place, the Taratumm equivalent of a
Vislin crest flip. I’d amused him, somehow. What was so funny? I wasn’t joking.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He wasn’t laughing, either, and answered
me soberly. “All of them, then, I
suppose. Although I won’t apologize for
Krrutoki’s existence, nor your foolhardy confrontation with him. Your injuries are largely your own fault.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I began to protest, but he raised a
forehand to forestall me. “Your actual
injuries, less so your fictional ones. I
see that you’ve put together much about your situation. But allow me to place your partially
assembled puzzle in its proper frame... and to insert the missing pieces.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He
called back toward the Vislin: “Kzshtst, could you get me a chair? This conversation may last longer than my
knees.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Without
protest, the chastened Vislin tech left the room. By the time Ruktpah had finished speaking
his next few sentences, Kzshtst returned with a suitably oversized, padded
stool, which Ruktpah settled into with unexpected grace. While all this was happening, the Hrotata tech
remained quiet at his station, continuing to read out whatever vital data I was
projecting.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“So,
Stchvk. Investigator. You’ve spent years solving puzzles, seeking
out hidden truths, and helping sapients… some of them paying clients, some
not. We have your public record, of
course. I examined it myself when you
were noticed working the Grust case. We
were looking into it from our angle – the psychic angle – once the public trial
started, but you got to the real story before we did.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Did
I? It </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">was </span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Krrutoki, in the Thunder Bar, with the psychic frenzy powers?”
I japed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It
was. The constables picked him up,
thinking he’d thrown you out of his window.
He tried to flee Layafflr City, but one of our agents was in with the
arresting squad. Consequently, he couldn’t hide and he
couldn’t scare them off. We might have
missed him without your intervention.
Thank you, I suppose.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“See? Even my bad ideas are secretly good.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That’s
what we’ve been seeing. You see, we
wanted to know if your success there was dumb luck or possibly a sign of real
talent. Some investigators wouldn’t even
have considered the psychic angle. You
only gave it slight credence, but still managed to find the right culprit,
using purely mundane… even low-budget methods.
Professional custodial investigators didn’t crack this case, with all
their training and tools, but you did.
Because you considered all the possibilities.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And
you were so impressed, you decided to kidnap and torture me.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Doctor
Ruktpah rolled his eyes and paused, finally showing some signs of annoyance. I have that effect.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“If
your verbal choices weren’t part of your ‘talent’, I’d be more offended by that,”
he rumbled. “But please don’t mistake me
for a suspect you need to provoke. I’d
like to convince you that I’m an ally.
My praise is genuinely meant, not a tactic of manipulation. I’m just explaining the circumstances that
led us to this point.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“If
you’re psychic, then you know why I’m on the offensive… and you wouldn’t need
words to manipulate me.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You
see, that’s a common misconception.
Psionic talent is diverse; not all are gifted in the same way, and we
specialize further by training. I myself
cannot read your mind, not without augmentation, nor do I particularly indulge
in projective empathy.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">His
matter-of-fact discussion threw me off balance.
Maybe it was meant to. For all
his protests, this eggheaded stomper was pretty good at turning a
conversation. He was good enough to
quiet me down and get me to actually listen, if only by the promise of
substantial revelations.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I
didn’t snipe back, he settled into his seat and his narrative. “We needed to know how much you knew: if you
had psychic ability, yourself, or a gifted informant who reinforced your
suspicions. A cursory inspection proved
that neither was the case.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
admit, I was a bit disappointed to fail the psychic test. Then again, my investigative skills would be
less impressive if I had help from hidden mental powers. Whatever I’d accomplished, I did it with my
own five senses and deductive skill.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“We
brought you back here, performed the necessary medical treatments to fix your
injuries, and kept you out of the claws of the constabulatory… you are welcome
for that, incidentally. Perhaps you can
weigh that against the discomfort you experienced during our
inspections.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As my
expression darkened, he corrected himself: “All right, the pain you endured during
our interrogation. But I assure you, the
process was carefully managed and quite necessary. When we couldn’t find any obvious reasons for
your success, we set up a scenario that would evaluate your professional and
natural skills… not just as an investigator, but as a sapient capable of
noticing and managing psionic situations.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He
forestalled further protests by continuing quickly. “If you had proven incapable, you would
suffer from no memory of our simulation.
You would be deposited back into a standard hospital, healed in mind and
body, with a cover story explaining how you got from Krrutoki’s apartment to
there. And yes, it would be a better
cover story than we used to block out that experience the first time. We needed you unaware, with no memory of
prior events to make you suspicious about the simulation itself.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Because
I would have been,” I pointed out. “And
I </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">was</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> suspicious about a lot of
things in that scenario. The beachfront
vacation. The memory lapses. The sudden fatigue and unconsciousness. The fact that I still had credit in my
account.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes,
you were. And that was part of the
test,” Ruktpah confirmed. “How much
discrepancy would your mind accept, before you started to rebel against
unreality? How far could we rewrite the
narrative until you became frustrated, no longer able to accommodate the weight
of anomaly? You actually had me worried;
your imagination is extraordinarily resilient, able to fit together the most
bizarre coincidences and illogical factors into a coherent theory. I suppose that is a consequence of criminal
investigation: there always has to be an explanation, no matter how strange or
convoluted.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
signaled silent agreement. He wasn’t
wrong there. But I still wondered: why
push me so hard? What did they want out
of me?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruktpah
must have sensed my conflict, either psychically or through old-fashioned
social cues. He oozed compassion as he
continued: “But you did notice. Your
perceptivity is also quite high, either as a natural asset to your chosen
profession, a consequence of its practice, or both. You pick up on oddities and
coincidences. They mount and conjoin and
are rarely discarded. That is not a
common skill. Most sapients overlook the
discontinuities around them, either to conserve attention or preserve their
peace of mind… or because the details rarely matter to their needs.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“So I’m
fixated on minutiae and prone to fantasy,” I deadpanned. “I could have told you that. Why run a mock-up like this? To confirm my traits for yourselves?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Exactly
so,” Ruktpah answered, still unflappable.
“People </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">say</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> a great deal about
themselves, good or ill, but their true reactions in a real situation are the
only certain test of character. Our
evaluation program tells us precisely how a subject will react under certain
stresses, not to mention how their thought processes work.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
suddenly felt very naked and even a bit violated. They had watched not only my behavior but
also my thoughts during my most vulnerable moments. Everything I had sought to keep secret about
myself, about Pack Vzzrk, about my past cases, had been laid bare. Not to mention, all my tendencies,
deviancies, and secret drives had been watched by these voyeurs.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Subject,
ttt? Doc, if my legs weren’t broken and
restrained, I’d be tempted to claw out your guts right now.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Then
you haven’t been listening… or rather, you have been listening selectively. Did you notice the part where I mentioned we
deal with psychic criminal acts? <i>You</i>
were there when a rogue actor, untrained, sent you frenzying out of a
window. You can imagine how much more difficult it would be to detect, resist, and disable a more experienced psychic criminal. We can’t use... or trust just anyone. Genuine assets are rare. If you possessed a
lesser mind, we’d have deposited you back at home, ignorant and possibly a
little richer for your trouble. I’ll
mention again, in case you missed it: you wouldn’t remember any of this, not
the simulation, not the arrest, not the fall itself. You would never know you'd suffered any pain. We can manage that much, at least. A simple chemical amnestic suffices, complimented by an augmented
scan to make sure no stray memories remain to interfere with the erasure.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That’s
a lot of power. Who controls all this?”
I demanded.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Exactly
what I mean: you go straight to the point.
The simple answer is: the Great Family.
We’re unofficial, both due to the nature of our operations and the
potential for panic among the populace. But
we do report to the greater interplanetary government. If you accept our offer, you can look at the
organizational charts yourself.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Wait,
if I accept?” I asked, in still-angry confusion. “Who said I’d want to join or even help you,
after this treatment?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Actually,
you said. Before we started the
evaluation. You asked if we were hiring,
or words to that effect. You can review
the recording, if you like, but I’m sure you could dismiss it as a fabrication
if you really resist the idea. It seems
the amnestic cleared out that conversation, along with the hour or so beforehand.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It
sounded like something I’d say… at least, before knowing what the job
interview would be like. I said as much:
“I doubt you explained what the hiring process would involve.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And I
can counter that we did, in fact. Ttt,
we didn’t go into great detail about the method used for evaluation, but you
were informed that we’d need to confirm your mental ability and potential
liability.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I’m
sure murdering my childhood love was somewhere in the fine print.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruktpah
shifted uncomfortably; I’d struck something painful. He grunted, “That outcome was not originally
intended. Your near suicidal episode was
certainly not intended. For that, you
have my deepest apologies.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Mine
too,” the Hrotata technician chimed in, sounding properly contrite. “That was terrible. We should have ended the program way before
that. I’m the one who told them you were
hitting bottom, though.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
stared at Ruktpah a long moment. “You </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">apologize?</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It wasn’t </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">intended?</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Let me tell you, Doctor, your program has a
serious flaw if it includes unintended effects like that.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He shot
back, defensively, “The program is guided by a combination of scripted events and
probabilistic reactions to your thoughts and actions. It follows the lead you establish, conforming
events to maintain maximum credibility while still nudging circumstances toward
choice points which will evaluate your decision processes, value judgments, and
selected actions. So in a manner of speaking,
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">you</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> led </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">our</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> program into that particular dark alley. Your refusal to back off, your willingness to
see the worst in both your enemies and allies, and your persistent avoidance of
authority… not that any of these are </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">flaws,</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
in our eyes...” he tailed off, holding up a hand to forestall my reaction again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He
added, “I’m not blaming you, just pointing out that, given the initial starting
conditions, our evaluation parameters, and your particular mental makeup… bad
things happened in that world.
Perhaps they might happen so in the real world. I’d like to think that reality is
considerably less malleable, more beneficent, and more mundane than in our
mock-up… but you and I both know that the world out there is often full of
conspiracies, stupidity, malice, and even utter surreality, at times. My job is a case in point.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What,
malice and stupidity?” I couldn’t help
seizing on the opening, though my accusation lacked any real venom.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He
actually seemed amused by my remark.
“Sometimes, but only when found in the targets we track and capture. We <i>are</i> the conspiracy… though there have been
historic occurrences of psionic cabals.
Far more often, rogues are either ignorant or malicious or both, using their
abilities to cause harm because they don’t know any better. And you’ve seen the surreal part. Too many otherwise unexplainable events have
a hidden psionic cause: emotional manipulation, illusions, telepathic
espionage…”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Now I’m
tempted to explain away all my failed cases as the work of secret psychics,” I
quipped.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Only
one that I know of,” Ruktpah shot back.
“No, I’m kidding, likely none.
Psionics are rare. Very
rare. Maybe a dozen or so that we know
of on Spore. Now thirteen, until Krrotoki
is evaluated and assigned.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Assigned? You mean, to a prison?” I asked. Despite my earlier fury, his torrent of information
was having the promised effect: I was listening. I was getting answers. I hoped they were true answers, but if they
could rewrite my memories, why bother to lie?
For that matter, if they could bend my emotions, why bother with a
recruiting speech?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Perhaps. But for all the harm he’s done, he’s not
irredeemable. An immature, emotionally
unstable fool, certainly. But young. Surely you wouldn’t argue that it’s impossible
to grow beyond the errors of our youth?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Being
reminded of my exposed past was a low strike, and I stiffened in reaction,
preparing a curse in reply. But he was
essentially correct. Krrutoki seemed like a pathetic, selfish, deranged creep, but those were all qualities that
could be repaired. His rehabilitation
was doubly likely with psionic wardens and therapists involved.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
hissed but stayed quiet otherwise.
Ruktpah correctly took this for agreement and continued, encouraged.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“So
yes, we have Krrutoki in custody. You’ll
be happy to know, also, that he made an acceptable, suitably edited confession
attesting to his guilt in the case of Grust of Herd Torbur. Grust has been exonerated and released. If you like, we can even update the official
report to mention your role. Fascinating
designer drugs were found in his apartment, by the way, supporting your
original suspicions.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">felt
like a severe ethical compromise, but what else could be done? At least the innocent stomper had been freed
and the guilty party named. Covering up
the actual method of the crime was a secondary concern.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I still grumped, “As long as I
don’t have to lie directly</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> about what happened.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That’s
up to you, but consider: you’d have no way to prove your claims. For the reasons I’ve stated, we have to
conceal some degree of information about psychism from the general public, at
least until official studies and legislation catch up. Can you imagine the prosecutor’s case, trying
to prove that a Hrotata psychically drove a Taratumm into frenzy? What would the court accept as evidence? And even if the state somehow succeeded in
making its case, what would be the public response?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I could
complete the thought: the public would be half disbelieving, half
hysterical. As my own reactions proved, the
idea of mental control was a terrifying one, particularly when you didn’t know
who could do it or how it worked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruktpah
made sympathetic noises while I worked out the implications myself. At length, he spoke again: “Another point to
consider: you passed our evaluation.
Despite the catastrophic ending, your performance showed that you have
overcome your spotted past. You are not
immune to its existence, but its effects upon your present behavior seem largely
positive. In fact, it may be because of
your past difficulties, not in spite of them, that you function so well in the
present.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I knew
that, too,” I countered. “But I’m not so
sure about the functional part. Maybe if
I felt more mentally stable or could earn more credit, I’d agree more. And as far as the existence of my past,
that’s always a risk. I’m not sure
whether to run from it - leave Layafflr City or even the planet - or stay here,
close and ready to stamp out that fire whenever it relights.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Well,
we can help on all those counts, as it turns out. We have very good ideas how to help
you regain your equilibrium… if you allow such therapy, of course. We can also help keep your past hidden and
its actors absent, to some extent.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Pkstzk,”
I interrupted. “Where is she, actually?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Alive,”
he answered, making a weak joke that he realized fell flat. He amended, “But in prison. Embezzlement from her employer. Very recently, in fact, only two cycles ago. We were surprised your knowledge was that out
of date.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I
don’t keep up on most of the old gang. Maybe I
should. What about Rsspkz?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“In
prison still, along with Vztrrp. We did
our research to make sure everything would conform with your expectations about
those ‘characters’.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And
Tklth?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No
idea. About her, at least, you know as much as anyone else. She’s vanished into the
great wilds of space.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
finally relaxed a little, having accepted Rukhpah’s general goodwill, if not
his methods. I considered what I was
being offered. More knowledge was a good
thing. Being able to make a difference
would be nice, also. If I could put my
talents to good use, I didn’t mind working within an organization, even a
secret government organization. But I
definitely didn’t like the feeling of impersonal power that I was getting. I’d be getting involved with some dangerous
people, with a lot of dangerous powers and tools, and some questionable ideas
about how to use them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But the
alternative was </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">not</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> getting involved:
going back to my old life, ignorant as ever, with the same
threats still active. I thought, also,
that this particular conspiracy </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">needed</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
someone like me, someone who would criticize and act as a conscience. Kkk, I flatter myself... but I <i>never</i> would have
played with someone’s mind like they did mine, even for technically noble
reasons. Some things, you just don’t do,
even for good purposes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like
framing someone for murder, even to save a life. Despite my
revulsion about having ‘killed’ Pkstzk, I was proud of myself for holding fast
against the plot to frame Shtvtsk. I was proud, also, of escaping the virtual snares and seductions laid during my evaluation. I hadn't compromised, hadn't inflicted undeserved harm, and hadn't despaired, at least until the end.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was temporarily proud of having
survived the various traps laid against me, but then realized I was meant to survive. Nothing in the scenario would really have
‘killed’ me, which was why I was wounded but never really endangered or
completely crippled. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>In fact, I was spared the worst consequences of every error. No outcome would
completely stop me from proceeding until they had all their data. Reality wasn't so forgiving. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Still, in simulation just as in reality, what was important was that I kept trying,
kept looking for escapes, and kept coming up with ideas. I managed that much, at least.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I also kept my integrity. If that was an asset
in my favor, then these psychos had to accept my criticism along with my
competence.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Before you get too full of
yourself, bear in mind that you have a few negatives we’d need to work on,”
Ruktpah interrupted. I realized that
he’d interrupted my thoughts, with no other transition from his earlier remarks to the
latter one. I squinted at him and
snapped my beak nastily. Not reading my
thoughts, indeed. The old leaf-licker
wasn’t fooling me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He continued on, ignoring my
reaction: “Your distractibility is a consequence of your perceptiveness. This couples with your libido to slow down your progress toward resolution. There’s a reason I dismissed our female
psychometric technician before you woke up.
Though to make my point, I almost considered having her deliver the debriefing... but she’s not
trained for it.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The cute one with spots. I remembered her happily, then became annoyed with
Ruktpah for having read me so accurately.
I definitely would have been looking at her, if she were
still there. Ruktpah
might have secured my goodwill more easily with her present, but that just
proved his point again. Frost my
gonads. No, don’t, but you get the idea.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You’ll also have to curtail your
tendency to boast and to recruit bystanders,” Rukhpah persisted. “With witnesses and with constables. If you’re working for us, you won’t be able
to tell anyone… except us… about your cases.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Again, I saw his point. That had been
the point of Tskksk’s involvement: both her original assistance and her
subsequent kidnapping. They wanted to
see my reaction when a bystander, a witness, was pulled into a dangerous
situation. I imagined hostage situations
might be common with a psychic criminal; they could enthrall innocents more easily.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";"> Thinking of Tskksk, I was first relieved that she wasn't actually in any danger... then depressed that she had never existed at all. I had started to bond with a fictional character. Ttt, it happened sometimes, but rarely with such intensity. I wondered if Tskksk were at least based on a real person... maybe that cute female tech? Frost, the way my day was going, she was probably scripted by the Hrotata over there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";"> What was I thinking about, again? Ttt, that's right, psychic criminals and the need to keep civilians uninvolved.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruktpah continued to anticipate my
line of thought. “Bystanders are
a problem with empaths or projective telepaths,” he cautioned. “If you thought Shtvtsk was a powerful
seductress, imagine her augmented with the ability to induce lust. You couldn’t dissuade Pkstzk from her anger;
now imagine if that manipulation were amplified, with a random bystander... or a beloved acquaintance... aimed toward you as
a weapon.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He scored again. I could imagine those horrors with particular
clarity, thanks to my recent encounters in the virtual world. I could </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">almost</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
forgive the programmers for making me experience those events, realizing how
appropriate they were to the real situations I might eventually face. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Was</i> there any</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> psychic influence, in the simulation?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes and no,” Ruktpah
answered. “Your emotions weren’t
directly altered in any way. Shtvtsk was
created as an amalgam of the traits you find most attractive, your ‘ideal
female’. As such, it’s particularly
notable that you resisted her allure in favor of doing your chosen duty.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At this rate, my ego was going to
get rubbed raw.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Pkstzk’s indoctrination could have
been accomplished through mundane means as well,” Ruktpah continued, “but the
program made certain she would never accept your arguments. You were supposed to forestall her, perhaps
disarm her manually, or escape. We
really didn’t expect you to go for the laser.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Why not?” I demanded. “Given the situation, that was my best
option.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Really? She missed because she was
programmed to miss,” Ruktpah argued back.
“I doubt that in reality you would have survived that encounter.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I sure wouldn’t have survived it
trying to grab her gun,” I griped back. “How
many of you have actually tangled in a close-quarters gunfight? I’m guessing not many. Wait, how many ‘mundane’ field agents do you
have? How many have to do their job
without benefit of psionic ability?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“On Spore? None, yet,” Ruktpah admitted. “You’d be our first. You can see why, considering how difficult it
was to find you… and how difficult it is to evaluate and then persuade a
candidate.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Sss, frost, do you ever need my
help,” I concluded. “No wonder your
program went sideways. I’m programmed to
deal with <i>real</i> situations, having dealt with them. When you put that up against a script that
includes certain inaccurate invariables…”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Garbage in, garbage out,” Ruktpah
completed for me. “Careful, though: your
good evaluation is predicated on your performance in that program. Question its validity too strongly, and we
have nothing to base our estimates on.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You have what everyone else
gets. Your judgement, the evidence of my
actions, and a little trust. Kktkrkz sit
on my head, I’ve got a lot to do here.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“So I take it you’re agreeable,” he
replied.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Provisionally. Let’s take it in steps. I’ll see what I learn, make sure I like what
I see, and decide if this is actually something I can do. You have a lot of data on me, but I’m a
little short on details about your operation.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You talk like someone in a strong
position, rather than the only non-psychic in a building full of them, with his
ankles broken and casted, and his psychometric diagram being displayed on a
screen nearby,” Ruktpah cautioned.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Everyone's psychic? Even him?” I asked, pointing to
the Hrotata.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes,” the tech answered for
himself. “I can make dour matrons lift their
tails.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruktpah grimaced at the vulgarity,
but confirmed, “Thrussetl, like Krrutoki, is a projective empath. He is also under working probation for that sort of
behavior.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The red-brown mammal only grinned
in response, turning back to his displays.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Lucky furball,” I muttered loudly
enough for him to catch. Ruktpah rolled
his eyes but did not comment further.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“But yes, I do have some leverage,”
I resumed, “you clearly need my help, otherwise why do all this work? Regardless of your ‘evaluation’, I can identify,
track, and maybe even apprehend rogues like you talk about, without radiating
psycho-neutrons or whatever they might pick up on. I have practical experience, particularly here on
Chttkttp.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I noticed that,” Ruktpah
mentioned. “In fact, there’s an
interesting track line over your thoughts of this planet, particularly this
city. Did you see it, Thrussetl?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Of course,” the Hrotata tech
answered. “A self-associative line like
that is hard to miss, especially in my case.
Usually you see a line that strong for a mother.
Or a mate. Or a pack mate.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I get it, I get it,” I waved them
down. “I love this horrible, filthy
city.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Not just that,” Ruktpah
insisted. “Try to imagine leaving it
for a long period, perhaps forever.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I obliged him and found what they
were talking about. It hurt to
consider leaving. Seriously thinking about
leaving Layafflr City behind and never returning felt like pondering which limb
to give up. I hadn’t ever thought of
moving away, not even when things got bad.
I joked about it, sure, but never seriously.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My expression told them enough, even
without empathy to read my feelings.
Ruktpah’s eyes creased in sympathy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That factor explains a great deal about
your progress toward maturity and your resilience to adversity, despite some significant
emotional complications,” he quietly diagnosed.
“I’m no therapist, not precisely, but it’s not unbelievable that
your bond to your pack has been transposed to a much bigger pack, one that is
more difficult to serve but less likely to demand specific services.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“So what, I’m bonded to the city?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Might as well be,” Ruktpah
confirmed. “And that’s not a bad
thing. Vislin within our organization
sometimes show the same affiliation to their coworkers, or to psychics in general. They’re also some of our best agents, utterly
impossible to compromise. Frankly,
anything that tries to turn you against this city or its citizens has a difficult
obstacle to overcome.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wanted to laugh. Me, Stchvk, scoundrel of the ages, mated to
law and order. It was the kind of joke
that you realized was true, even as you tried to laugh it away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That recognition was what decided
me. These might be a bunch of secretive,
privileged, inhumane bastards, but they knew their business. I’d learn a lot here, and not just about
psionics itself. If I thought I was a
good judge of sapients before, I’d be unstoppable with such professional
training… not to mention some of those ‘augmentations’... maybe a psychic
sidekick…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">First things first, Stchvk. Get out of bed. Take the tour. Meet the psycho co-workers.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“All right, all right,” I said
aloud. “I’m in. What do we do next?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Ruktpah rose slowly, stiffly,
resting his bulk for a moment before coming fully upright. “</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
rest and heal. Even with regeneration,
you’ll need a few days before you can stand comfortably. From there, we’ll give you the outline of
operations. You’ll probably be
disappointed in terms of workload; we don’t have any investigations currently
active. In all likelihood, you’ll get
some training courses, then go back home to wait until you’re needed. After that, it depends on what comes up."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It figured. After all that trouble, I wasn’t even getting
hired full-time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>The mention of home did
brighten my mood. My home. It was just fine. My beautiful hand-carved desk was still
there, unburned. My good armor was in
the closet, not shot full of holes. My
heater… was somewhere.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Hey! Where’s my heater?” I asked as Ruktpah
straightened up to leave.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Around here somewhere,” he
answered. “You’ll get it back when you’re
cleared to leave. No point before
then. The kinds of threats you might
face around here, you wouldn’t get a chance to shoot. Might make you shoot yourself.” </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I assumed he was kidding… maybe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And what about pay?” I called as
he turned away. “I’m no good if I starve
to death while waiting for work.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You’ll get a modest monthly
stipend,” Ruktpah replied over his shoulder, “enough to live on, but not so much as to raise
suspicions. Get used to the idea of
pretending to have clientele… or maybe drum up some more regular business,
yourself. Being choosy is fine, but you’ve
got a streak of laziness there that could be improved.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Great. A boss who could read your mind and personally tailor his critiques. If the fringe benefits weren’t so appealing,
this might be the worst job I’d ever heard of.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Stchvk, private psychic
detective. At least the title sounded…
stupid, actually.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’d keep it like it was. It saved the cost of reprinting my business
cards.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>Nathan Largehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11699073963669402716noreply@blogger.com1