Opinion: Border Security

Alright, I guess it's time to look at the facts about this one. There has been a barrage of publicity regarding the "Danger from the South" and many media pundits have been pounding their desks calling for a massive effort to control our border with Mexico. That's all fine and good, but let's face it, if we do that we should also secure our border with Canada. None - let me repeat none - of the 9-11 terrorists came into the US through the border with Mexico. If you do not believe me, please visit http://www.factcheck.org/article352.html.

That being said, border security is a good thing. Sadly, the threats facing this country are more skilled at breaching our borders and port security than what we would like to admit. Simply building a fence will not do, and even though many would not admit it, there are tangible economic benefits derived from the mass influx of illegal immigrants. I'm not saying illegal immigration is right, we should have a guest worker program of some sort. I am saying it is hypocritical to criticize something for political gain while at the same time enjoying the monetary benefits of the arrangement.

Here's an experiment I would like our politicians to try, just once. Go to any forum or meeting of farmers, small business owners and hotel industry executives. Tell them that a new law will be put in place that will make it a federal offense to harbor or employ illegal immigrants. Persons found guilty will have their property or other assets seized. Those confiscated assets will be sold to fund border security programs. See what reaction you get, and then decide what you are going to do about this problem.

Frankly, if we are serious about protecting the Nation, what we need is to select more competent individuals tasked with leading and executing our security efforts. The tragedy of 9-11 happened because our intelligence, immigration, police and airport security services failed miserably. Read the 9-11 Commission Report at http://www.9-11commission.gov/report/911Report.pdf. In it you will find a whole list of recommendations on how to avoid these kind of disasters in the future. Sadly, political cronyism is still in full effect, and I do not think our leaders have heeded many of the warnings. Some would like to make this a partisan issue, but there are plenty of carpetbaggers on both sides of the aisle.

Until we have a government truly concerned about accountability - which we have not had for the past 40 years - and as a people we begin demanding it, we will not see an improvement. Start by being an informed citizen, and then vote based on the facts. Expect more from elected officials, they are well-fed and paid and should be looking out for All the People, not just their friends. Let them know that you are concerned, here are some links:

• US President: http://www.whitehouse.gov/president/
  
• US Senate: http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/
  
• US House of Representatives: http://www.house.gov/writerep/

Keep it clean folks, but tell them and me what you think.

Opinion: Our Energy Future

Well, it looks like folks are starting to understand that our dependence on fossil fuels to keep the global economy chugging along is not a long term proposition. I think it's time to begin developing and marketing viable alternatives. I break our current set of technologies and options down into these different classifications:

• Those that can work now or in the short-term (1 - 5 years) and pose less risks from an environmental perspective: Wind, hydro-electric and geo-thermal power generation.
• Those that can work now or in the short-term but pose more risks from an environmental perspective: Nuclear.
• Those that can be made to work in the mid-term (5 - 10 years) with some investment and pose less risks to the environment: Solar energy and bio-fuels (100% renewable sources).
• Those that can be made to work in the mid-term (5 - 10 years) with some investment but pose more risks to the environment: High-density solar.
• Those that can be made to work in the long-term (10 years+) with some investment and pose less risks to the environment: Hydrogen fuel.
  
• Those that can be made to work in the long-term (10 years+) with some investment and but pose more risks to the environment: Perhaps the products of space exploration research, practical on other planets but unsafe in an inhabited biosphere.

Near-term "safe" options need to be exploited now, as the only additional investments are those for the infrastructure. While they may have some impact from an environmental perspective, I believe that wind, hydro-electric and geo-thermal power generation can help us now and should be employed extensively. Power generated from these sources can then be used by other infrastructure components like transportation (trains, inner-city commuter vehicles). This National Renewable Energy Laboratory site: http://www.nrel.gov/wind/index.html offers great information about the state of wind energy.

Nuclear power has some very real problems in terms of containment and the safe disposal of waste, but it cannot be dismissed out-of-hand. More research into areas such as fusion reactors could lead to breakthroughs in this field. Check: http://www.jet.efda.org/pages/content/fusion1.html out for an idea of what is possible.

In the mid-term, we should put more effort into both solar energy and bio-fuels. Solar energy holds great promise, especially in the area of co-generation. While it may never be a primary source of energy, it could be used by households to power many of the appliances in a home that have low consumption while in "sleep-mode". Visit: http://www.solcomhouse.com/solarpower.htm for very good information about solar power.

Bio-fuels can replace fossil-based fuels if enough funding and research is assigned to it. I think that the goal should be fuels that are derived from renewable sources exclusively, and that the infrastructure used to manufacture and distribute them should also use 100% clean and/or renewable power. In this way you can totally take fossil fuels out of the equation. Food for thought can be found at: http://journeytoforever.org/biofuel.html.

Hydrogen has received a lot of attention recently, but costs are still too high to make it a viable solution. It is extremely attractive because the potential sources are vast, and the byproducts of combustion are clean and useful depending on the location. Substantial investment will be required to make it affordable but arguments such as those made in: http://www-formal.stanford.edu/jmc/progress/hydrogen.html show that it holds great promise.

As we continue to explore ways to solve our current energy situation, we will find many ideas that will seem outlandish. If we look at the scientific progress made in the past 200 years, we should be able to recognize that the only limits are those imposed by our own fear and ignorance. If we are serious about continuing on the path of progress, we have no choice but to find better ways to power our forward motion.

Tell me what you think ...

Opinion: What can we do?

I was watching the news the other day, there are so many disasters and people in need. In every community there are folks that could use a helping hand. Now, I know these are busy times, and we all have hectic schedules. So here's what I propose:

1. Find out about an organization in your area that needs help. A good place to start is United Way International.
2. Volunteer your time, start small - say 2 hours a month.
3. If you can afford it, donate goods, services or cash. Give what you can.

What are your thoughts?

Picture: Sky

Late summer sky, early in the morning.

Picture: Sprouting Leaves

Ah Spring .... Playing with the macro function and thought this would make a nice picture.

Story: Snively's Theorem

Snively’s Theorem

In the Beginning … there was nothing but raw matter and energy. The Omniscient saw that all was empty, and was sad. In a fit of depression, it digested vast amounts of matter and energy. This of course caused a pretty bad tummy ache. As the One bent over in agony – relief came with a colossal pppfffftttrrrraaappppp! …

… Scientists now call this the “Big Bang”.

Gordon Snively was one such scientist. As a child, he was sickly and bookish. These traits later developed into hypochondria and a ravenous appetite for the printed word. The former kept the ladies at bay, the latter filled up all the thusly created free time. His was a simple yet busy life. His mother fretted constantly over him, further eroding any manly traits that could attract a possible mate. He was by no means effete. On the contrary he had pored over many volumes on the specific topic of the female anatomy and mind during his adolescence. As many men have learned, reading about it is far removed from the practice. Let’s just say he wasn’t popular with the fairer sex.

Again, being unencumbered by love, lust, courtship or marriage of any kind; he had plenty of time to dedicate to other pursuits. Space had always fascinated him, for in its vast emptiness he found a reflection of his own soul. This comforted him in a strange yet soothing way, so one day while gazing with a hunger that would frighten a steer at the luscious legs of one Betty Primrose, he made a momentous (for him anyways) decision. He would become an astrophysicist. The Universe continued humming in ignorant bliss, unaware and unconcerned.

A man-boy of such deep and unencumbered powers of concentration could not but succeed in academic endeavors. Gordon piled up the schoolwork all the way through high school, fiercely focused on one thing – his dream of mediocre pay and strange but at the same time long hours peering through a telescope. While most other upstanding young men his age endeavored to excel in sports and engage in as many lascivious acts as was possible with their female peers, he remained chaste and dedicated to his goal. Soon he was wining local, state and national science fairs. Westinghouse prized his efforts and the top research universities courted him like a heroin addict would the next full but dirty needle. His father, usually embarrassed by his son’s lack of physical abilities, now rubbed Gordon’s achievement into the face of every unsuspecting passer-by.

His mother, that sweet, smothering woman – continued to worry. Here he was, getting ready for college, yet he could not cook nor clean. He did not know how to wash his own clothes and could only dress himself because all his garments looked pretty much the same. Fortunately his personal hygiene was respectable, and he made sure his hair was always cut and his nails were clean. He wasn’t a homely boy, and could have passed for handsome if you would have noticed him. His personality overpowered his body, and made him seem less than he really was. In any case, this was of little importance to him; those traits would not impede his progress towards his destination.

College was both wonderful and frightening. His scholarship allowed access to the resources of not only his chosen alma-matter, but those of a global consortium of institutions that shared the knowledge gained through the efforts of many bright youngsters such as him. This is not to say that the elder professors and foundation leaders did not make their contributions, but as is often the case, it is the young and reckless that make the next quantum leaps. It was in his studies and conjectures where his true strength shone, and his passions flared. As with other handicaps, not being able to relate to the people of his young generation allowed him to dedicate his resources to the search for scientific truth. In this he excelled.

If only he could have harnessed a little of that power in order to perhaps entice one single, desperate female to him. In his awkward teenage he had attempted many times, achieving a small success with one particular girl. Sandy Bremerton had noticed his clumsy advances, and perhaps out of pity had consented to a date. Gordon tried as best he could to charm her, but between a nervous stammer and overactive sweat glands, he failed to win her over completely. Still, out of the same pity and a kindness best reserved for stray puppies, she allowed him to fondle her. This one prized memory had allowed him to masturbate in many a long and lonely night.

As his studies continued at an ever more frantic pace, the memory of Sandy remained the only female attraction he would allow to cloud his thoughts. The intense clarity brought on by this enforced chastity allowed him to perform mental feats incomprehensible to most hairless apes. By the time he was of legal drinking age, he was a tenured professor. By the time most men are thinking about establishing a family, he was a world-renown scientist and a lecturer of impeccable reputation. In matters of time and space, only the greats of the 20^th Century matched him. With the tools available to him now in the 22^nd, he would soon surpass them.

Sadly, this did not satisfy him. With every bit of evidence, every morsel of the Universal Truth he unearthed, he became more and more disconsolate. Where most of those in his field would have been content for a modicum of recognition, a few published theses and perhaps a grant that would allow for some time on one of the big telescopes; he was not happy. As if he believed that soon it would all come crashing down; every new success mortified him to no end. Once in a fit of rage, he had almost destroyed a very expensive instrument designed to measure gamma-ray particle collisions. It was only the quick intervention of a couple of interns that saved him and his work. After this, he learned to think of Sandy when despair attacked his inner peace.

His handlers decided prompt action was required, sensing his inner pain. His research had already proven invaluable, creating advances in the areas of inter-planetary propulsion, celestial navigation, quantum mechanics and fresh-flower delivery. Not only had their consortium benefited from the handsome royalties paid by corporations eager to exploit the capabilities if his discoveries, but humankind had also benefited from the opening of the vast frontier of space to safe, affordable and convenient delivery of long-stem roses anywhere in the solar system. This being possible, his manager suggested a trip to one of the research stations in orbit around Jupiter. He readily agreed, as he could perhaps meet Sandy there. As fate would have it, she had worked very hard and had been successful herself. She was known in scientific circles as the leading expert in her field – the mating rituals of extra-solar asteroid clusters.

Being terribly afraid of rejection, Gordon thought it best to approach Sandy via a bouquet of purple tulips, her favorite. StellarFlora delivered these in the Jupiter season of spring, as the storms were at their grandest on the surface of the gaseous giant. As she read the card, and giggled girlishly at his attempts at romance; her heart began to flutter in anticipation. Unbeknownst to Gordon, Sandy had secretly harbored a long (extremely long) distance crush on him. He indicated that if she wished to see him, he could take the next ResCons shuttle to her station, and from there perhaps they could visit the asteroid belt. She agreed with glee, an immediately sent a bouquet of tropical flowers with a very personal note. Thank goodness for the note, as Gordon’s allergies would have undoubtedly killed him had it not been for his desire to see her again.

As he boarded the shuttle through the VIP airlock at Lunar Station Seven, his hear began to beat so rapidly that the sensors in his suit indicated the beginning of cardiac arrest. Had it not been for the quick injection of a sedative by the kindly flight attendant, the inhabitants of the Solar System would have suffered the loss of a great mind, and the non-development of a theory that continues to yield benefits to this day. Fortunately, fate decided to allow Snively a few more decades of life, and allowed him to continue his pursuit of the passions that drove him.

One of these passions was waiting for him at the end of his voyage, below her suit wearing nothing but a sheer layer of elastic-skin meant to arouse and at the same time protect. Gordon would get the ride of his life that night, and not even the asthma attacks brought on by the zero-gee exertions Sandy subjected him to could stop him from now, finally, feeling content. The station commander performed the official wedding ceremony three days later, and they honeymooned beyond the orbit of Pluto. As they embraced and watched the space rocks collide in their love-dance, they mimicked the rituals in their own way. Such bliss would have certainly distracted a lesser mind, but even then Gordon processed the information. Like a ravenous data-search program, he collected the details of everything they saw and filed them away for later reference. Slowly, final understanding came.

With a sleek SolCruiser at their disposal, they decided to spend some additional time exploring not only the asteroids, but the other celestial bodies visible through the x-ray diffraction and gamma sensors on their ship. Gordon had brought these along, and Sandy had patiently listened as Gordon explained their operation and maintenance. Both possessing inquisitive minds and having shared the benefit of solid scientific educations, for them the possibility of research was not only a way of passing the time between waypoints but also a potent aphrodisiac. Theirs was indeed a pleasure cruise, but one whose fruit was not only of the crying, defecating and suckling kind; but also the child of wonder and discovery that has always driven humans forward. As Sandy’s belly expanded, so did Gordon’s knowledge. Soon it was time to return to Jupiter, for both had urgent tasks waiting at the Jovian research station. Since their first child would be due soon, they both agreed to make a hasty return. Sandy was sure that the medi-bot aboard their craft could handle the birth, but Gordon wanted to be safe. Warmed by his newfound, manly protection she consented.

Back on the station, they sat through a long 3Vid in which the consortium board of directors brought to light recent discoveries by the Deep Space Exploration Orbiting Telescope Array. Through the myriad sensors deployed on these advanced devices, scientists back on Earth had determined that something was quite amiss with the Universe. The board reassured the couple that nothing serious could be foreseen, and there was no reason to panic. They did request that they kept any information in confidence, and that they only disseminate the information to those deemed in the “need-to-know” category. Both Sandy and Gordon agreed, and noted their commitment to maintaining the secrecy of the findings via DNA signature. With the formalities over, the meeting was adjourned and they returned to their living quarters in the Jupiter-facing side of the orbiting lab.

Once they had their “evening” meal, Gordon at once began unpacking his scientific gear. He could sense the excitement building within him as he prepared a series of experiments to corroborate the findings of the earth-bound scientists, and also began the task of transmitting an encrypted message with his own data collected during their honeymoon amongst the asteroids. The evidence before him was both tantalizing and foreboding, but he plowed on searching for the answers held within the pieces of evidence so recently collected. Sandy watched him work; at the same time rubbing her abdomen and feeling the little being inside her grow and grow. She worried about the future, theirs and that of their baby. In her dreams she saw the collisions of the asteroids, and sensed in them the same concern that her intuition fed into unconscious mind. Whatever her husband was looking for concerned them all.

Hours passed into standard days, days into months and soon the family had a new member. A healthy new baby was brought into the solar system, a boy called Jim. With the aid of special lamps and an exercise suit, he soon gained the color and strength of any normal earth-born child. He was soon learning at a rapid pace with the aid of the latest AI teaching programs, and his progress was the light in his parent’s eyes. Still, Gordon and Sandy continued to worry, as the rushing stream of information pointed to a serious rift in the natural order of things. At least in what scientists believed to be that order. The changes he had noted in the behavior of both distant galaxies and much closer sub-atomic particles indicated that changes in the underlying matrix of the space-time continuum were not only imminent, but inevitable. Oddly, these same changes did not seem to interact with their molecular physical world, nor within the boundaries of the explored solar system. It was as if both the extreme-microscopic and macroscopic environments of both the Atom and the Universe operated on a different plane from that of their own reality.

Gordon’s fear of the implications was minor compared to his excitement. He knew that science was on the threshold of revealing a new and wonderful secret. When he thought back to his humble beginnings, the trials he faced growing up and how suddenly his life had changed; he could not help but be grateful to whatever Higher Power had granted him this opportunity. That he the timid, stuttering and sometimes incontinent Gordon Snively would be the one to bring this discovery to humanity was a thought that filled him with pride and awe. Had he known the final result then, he would have still been pleased, but more so satisfied in that fate was fickle and sometimes a prankster.

Sandy was herself noticing some very odd instances in both her specialized field of study and in her new role as a mother. Little Jim, it seems, was both his Father’s Son and something altogether different. The fact that he was a perfectly healthy baby kept her from constant worry, but at the same time her observations of his development indicated that something was just not the way it should be. When she compared these observations with the results of her studies on the asteroids, the deductions she made were perturbing indeed. She consulted Gordon, hoping to find a logical answer. His wide-eyed amazement at her findings, and the discussion that followed between them did no such thing.

As Jim gurgled contently in his sling, Sandy and Gordon began to correlate facts and figures and came to an amazing conclusion. For some as yet unknown reason, the recent findings about distant galaxies, quantum mechanics, asteroid love and the recent birth of their boy were seemingly liked by an invisible force. This binding force, while not a danger to the palpable physical universe, surrounded it and interacted in sometimes unpredictable fashion. To test their hypotheses, they would need the help of many in ResCons, and more importantly the friendly folks at StellarFlora. They prided themselves in their fast delivery and that speed was now essential to their tests. First they would need some fresh purple tulips.

On their ride back to Earth on the SolCruiser, Gordon speculated about the possibilities. Either they would find no inconsistency in the demonstrated behavior, some minor fluctuations in the fabric of the Universe would be found, or all hell would break loose. While the latter option would be very exciting, the excitement would be very short-lived and Gordon hoped to avoid this. The middle option seemed best, as it would let them form a new theory around their findings. The first option was dismissed via logic, as they already had seen enough changes from the accepted norm to discount it. Sandy compiled a list of the required equipment while inbound, and they were pleased to find all preparations had been made upon their arrival.

StellarFlora had made half their fleet of speedy shuttles available, both in gratitude to the consortium for the technology that allowed their business to thrive, and in part for the great publicity to be obtained by participating in such a grand endeavor. Each shuttle was loaded with electron microscopes to analyze baseline samples of several elements; X-Ray diffraction, EMP and neutrino sensors; telescopes that could view not only visible wavelengths but also the whole energy spectrum and in one special case the Snively family. The cargo vessels were dispersed through the Solar System and the outlying asteroid belt, some pointing their sensors towards the distant galaxies. Others examined the asteroids closely, and each contained one bouquet of purple tulips to be monitored both in transit and during stationary observations. Thus began the experiment …

… The Eternal sensed a stirring deep within its Being. A slight discomfort began to course through it and a fraction of a moment later, a small pfft echoed through the vastness …

In the ResCons boardroom, at homes, stores and restaurants and even in the Jovian research station folks turned to each other in a mixture of surprise and disgust. People looked at each other accusingly, wondering why people were so rude.

On their ship, vast amounts of data came spewing forth from the multitude of deployed sensors. Gordon and Sandy hear a little noise coming from Jimmy, whose face radiated a smile of such peace as to soothe a burning man. Sandy wrinkled her nose and cooed at the little one, checking his diaper. While Gordon checked the results in amazement, Sandy looked at him disapprovingly. He replied in the only logical way … “Who ever smelt it, dealt it!”

Story: Hey Friend

Hey Friend

"Listen," he says with that bloodshot gaze of a pollen junkie. "I'll double your coin if you just give me a little more time ... just until the next freighter docks. I've got this tip you know ... something big and easy, just like my third wife." He winks at me, the louse. I knew her and she deserved better. "You're pushing it, Frankie is breathing down my neck and I got problems of my own" I say, menace laced with fear and need in my voice. Pollen isn't the only vice, and not the most expensive. Like I said, my life isn't all peaches and cream. Not even the reconstituted, irradiated and flash-frozen kind that makes do these days. "Okay, okay ... a couple more days, but after that we'll both be looking for the next hop outta here". I should have been nicer to Billy, but hey - who knew?

He begs me for a hit "just to keep me going, please". I sigh and relent, it's my own fault. Pushers shouldn't mix friendship and commerce. Makes it messier later. Still I remember when we were kids, before Mars colony came online. Before the gene splicers figured out how to manipulate the strands within the sunflower seeds just so. Just so they would grow in the rusty sand. Just so they would become little med factories. "Nothing like the pure soil and water of Mars" said the brochures. It wasn't too long before I figured out that retro-virals weren't the only things they could make. All you needed was the proper sequencing AI's loaded to your hybridizer. That and just a little more UV than back at mom-and-pop's homestead. At least you don't have to steal to buy it, unless you really want to. Billy liked to.

"Thanks, I'll net you later", his feverish hands tremble slightly as he mixes the pollen into the solvent and then adds the catalyst. He spreads the mixture into a shallow mold, and in a matter of seconds the T-D patch is ready. You could always spot the buzzers by the patches. No markings on them usually meant they weren't pharma-sourced. The smart ones figured out a way to print official-looking gibberish on them, to make them look like the anti-gamma meds. Billy didn't care. "I owe you pal!” he said as he left the booth. "You better come through", I replied. He paid in full, but I thought I knew better. That was self-loathing talking, punishment for what I'd done to him. Billy had a future once, that's what friends are for I guess.

Back in Boulder, things had been a lot different. I was just slacking through another semester, a free ride guaranteed by the Rodham-Giuliani Bill. All you had to do was spend 2 years in a lunar warehouse crew, teaching inner-city kids, giving shots to third-world kids or chasing down WMD-toting freaks. I liked my chances with the freaks. I got the smallpox scars to prove it. Still worth it, I met Billy there. And Frankie. She I'd rather forget. Kind of hard to do when you crave someone so much. Enough to ruin your own life. Enough to ruin you best friend's life too. Sad part is, he never complained. Not once. Not after he lost his job, his first wife. Not after the second left because he couldn't make babies, after getting buzzed for so long. Not after the third one caught him patching. "Me or the dust!” she screamed finally after years begging him. I would have killed me. Not Billy though.

Orbital Station workers brushed past me, deep in their own misery. If the money wasn't so good no one would take the job. Tedium was the most dangerous part of the job. One slip, forgetting to tether yourself ... and you end up a Popsicle. Not my style, I'd rather get it quick from a cop's stunner. Nice and clean, just fried brains and melted eyeballs afterwards. Now that's classy. Time to go about my rounds.

Every frontier town has them, as far back as the Roman conquests and probably before that. That special part of town where anything goes for a price and putting your back against a wall is the only way to survive. Whores, loan sharks, lackeys, informers … and pushers like me. Then there’s the boss, a lady this time. My Frankie. I’d do anything for her, and have. I can’t help it, don’t understand it. You ever meet someone that has absolute power over your will? Someone that makes you feel complete just by being there? That’s her, at least for me. Most guys tell me “She’s not a looker and treats you like dirt, why her?” I wish I could tell. Back in school I hardly acknowledged her, but then one day all of a sudden she was all I wanted.

I put up with a lot; she sleeps around – even with Billy. She calls me her “shit-zu”. A crappy lapdog is what I am, I admit it. I’ve made her rich, rich enough that the cops tolerate her and let me sell to the drones. It’s a living. I walk into Joe’s Cave, dug into the red rock, a sign beside the door marking it as a “SOLAR EVENT SHELTER”. It’ll be a few years before the atmosphere is thick enough, breathable as it is. The meds keep the cancer rot down to manageable levels, so it’s not so bad. Looks like a good crowd, I might have to go back to get more dust.

One of my regulars, Zoë, saunters over. She doesn’t really need my fix, looks like the government clinic nurses have her nice and calm. Still she says “Got something for the pain?” Her pleading eyes tell me what I need to know, she’s got the craving and I have the cure. Her nostrils dilate in anticipation as I draw out a packet. She digs around in her pack and comes up with what most would consider an indecent amount of dough. Up here, with triple overtime and bonuses for “risk factors”, it’s just the price of a good trick. A couple of years on this rock will set you up, if the boredom doesn’t do you in. I hand over the pollen and she blends into a corner, mixing as she goes.

“Hey Joe”, I signal to the proprietor, a wiry veteran with nothing back on Earth to see. He calls me over, time to settle for the month. The saloon owners don’t mind my business, as long as they get a cut. Working for Frankie makes the cut smaller than usual, but business is steady and my clients just get mellow. Better than the mar-oxide freaks, who end up either killing someone or wrecking the place after one too many hits. Nice and mellow, that’s the ticket. “You got something for me?” he asks. “Sure Joe, here you go”, I hand over a credit token and some packets. Joe doesn’t use, being smart, but Zoë wouldn’t touch him without the dust. Some people are superstitious about mutants that way. He’s not so bad really, an extra couple of arms helps when you’re prospecting asteroids in zero-gee.

I sit at the bar; Joe pours me a cold lager. As I turn around on the stool, a couple of newcomers eye me warily. You can always tell the fresh meat by their wide eyes, and the fact that they avert them when you catch them looking. Six months from now they’ll stare right through me. A shame really, but I got to pay the bills. “Hey kid”, I signal to the dumber one, “come here a minute, I’ll buy you a brew.” He gets up slowly, looks around and then grabs his buddy’s arm. “What a pair of rubes”, I mutter to nobody – easy score. Dummy gets closer, while Spooky – the flighty one – stands back. Good instincts, not good enough. “Joe, a couple of ales for my new friends”, I ask in my nicest drawl. The two of them relax visibly, the Terran Mid-western accent always works like a charm. They grab the stools on both sides of mine and sip at their drinks.

“I’m kinda recent myself”, I assure them, “just getting grounded after the steerage-class hop from Luna-Six”. It helps to identify with your mark; these two didn’t seem to be able to afford any better. They smile sheepishly, Spooky asks “Mister, we uh … do you know where we could score some oxide?” I look at them over my glass, this can’t be that easy. “No, but maybe there’s something else you would like to try …” While the question lingers, I finish my drink. “Something else?” asks Dummy. “Like what?” In my best snake-oil salesman voice, I whisper “Ever heard of buzz-dust?” Christmas, they hook on like a gene-fix bass to a night-crawler.

I pull out a small sample sticker, and grab Dummy’s hand. He meekly lets me put it on, licking his lips. A minute later he starts convulsing. “Shit, anaphylaxic shock!” I swear as I try to keep his airway open. Right then Spooky grabs my pack and runs for the door. “Juice him Joe!” I scream as Joe anticipates my plea. Spooky passes through the front door and the pain of 50,000 volts sears his skin. As Spooky’s hair catches fire, Dummy experiences a miraculous recovery. I grab his neck and retrieve my pack. “Take a good look at your friend moron!” I utter as he sobs. The stench is unbearable and he pukes on his tunic. A couple of Joe’s muscle-men grab the body. “Take him out back”, I say handing over his moaning pal, “give him a good workout”. They make him drag the body to the alley behind the pub. I peer out the door to make sure they are handling it. No matter how many times I hear it, the sound of crushing bones always gives me the creeps.

As I walk back to the bar, the rest of the patrons return to their drinks and their business. I guess nobody told the two jerks who I was. Joe smiles as I fork over another credit chip “for you and the boy’s trouble”. “No sweat pal” he replies as he grabs the chip, “mighty generous of you”. Nothing is as priceless around here as a reputation for being a cold bastard. I walk out into the street trying to let Joe’s place cool off. I’ll be back later for the rest of the regulars as they come off their shifts. Paydays are always good for a few thousand. It’s hard to object on moral grounds when you can make a year’s salary in a day or two. Not that I get to keep it all, but my share is enough. I don’t do it for the money as much as her. She could always get under my skin.

Like I said before, you wouldn’t think she was something special. No one else does, but to each his or her own. I still couldn’t tell you what binds me to her, but I guess it started back in college. Billy convinced me to go with him after our stint as ERT members in the old Homeland Security force. Between the militia zealots and the jihadists we had our share of fun, plus it made for free school and a nice stack of credit chips at the end of the gig. Seeing as I’d had my taste of what properly trained bugs could do, Chemical Biology seemed like a good field. I met her during our junior year.

She was into nature too, but not for the same reasons. Her family came from original tie-dyed hippies back about a hundred years ago. They had a neat little business selling “herbs” from their garden up in the foothills, and their kids grew it to the point that they had enough money to buy a candidate that would legalize it. Eventually they branched out, and made enough to buy a plot in Brazil the size of Rhode Island. NatuPharma stock just doubled again, so I figure Frankie’s share is worth at least a couple of billion cool new credits. Not that she cares; she’s building her nice little empire right here on Mars. It ain’t legal yet, but the pollen is going make the meth epidemics seem like quaint ripples in society’s fabric. Speaking of which, it was time to drum up some more business.

I skip over an open access panel and duck into Linda’s. Nicer clientele than Joe’s, and facial scanners keep put repeat offenders of the randy kind. Pretty good synth-steak too. I grab a booth near the back and set down my pack between me and the wall. No chances this time, not that I should worry here. Still, I’m wired from the action so light up a cigar and order a double Johnny from the first leggy hostess that walks by. Linda’s smart, she knows some good T&A adds to the bill anywhere there’s money to be made by taking risks. She’s a looker too, if Frankie would let me I’d try … but not much of a chance of that, not now. Anyways, she’s good for business and points out the wealthy tourists with more money than sense. Here comes one now.

Gotta love the trust-funders. A few decades of compounded interest can make for a nice cushion to lay your lazy, overfed and under-worked ass on. This guy obviously had it better than most. Trips to Mars still aren’t cheap if you’re paying out-of-pocket. Most folks sign up for a few years of mining or farming to make the trip, this one looks like he could afford the Stellar Lines Expedition Package – complete with complimentary blowjobs. Must be nice. That’s ok, I have exactly what he’s looking for and he’s too full of himself to haggle.

“You Mr. Happy?” he asks with a booze-induced slur. From the reek rising from his beard, he’s wearing half a bottle of some very good hooch. What a waste of good wealth. Might as well get on with it. “That’s me friend, what can I do for you?” I ask as I look for any signs of interest from the rest of the restaurant. None, not that it matters. “I just got here with a few of my closest friends and I want them to have a great time. I hear you’re the man to see.” “Sure,” I reply “what did you have in mind?” “Dust, all you got with you, I’m in a hurry to get back to my … pleasures” he didn’t have to say, I saw the two trollops sharing his booth. “Hundred thousand new credits and you can keep the pack.” “Pocket change Mr. Happy, here you go – keep the change” he hands over a hundred-thirty thousand and walks away with the pack, without checking it. He obviously didn’t earn it, but that’s not my business. I could stop for the day, but Frankie might object. I can afford to eat lunch before I go, the real thing. Real beef is something to savor, I’ll take my time.

By the time I’d finished my steak, rich-boy and his entourage had made a not too discreet exit. Linda stopped by to pick up her cut, we made some small-talk and I made my excuses. Seeing as the night was young and I needed more supplies, I decided to go back to Frankie’s place. I relished the thought of her, lounging there … teasing me. Maybe I’d get lucky, maybe not. Still, I didn’t mind trying, not with her. I grabbed the first crawler that passed by. Frankie’s cave was far from Gibson City, and I had to get there fast. On the ride there, I could see the modest sprawl of the settlement made possible by the extensive landscaping paid for in rare elements. Mars had and was still enjoying a prolonged boom. Once Gibson figured out how to get here from Earth-Orbit fast and cheap, there wasn’t much the UN could do to stop the flood of adventurers, prospectors and ex-cons.

Many had died in the first years, when enviro-suits where required and storms wiped whole settlements off the face of the planet. Life was easier now, so easy that people had time for leisure. I provided a lot of that leisure. Thanks to Frankie’s weed plot, no one had to be bored or lonely here.

The crawler operator glanced back from his seat, “Coming up on the farm friend, I’ll take some dust instead of cash if you can spare it.” “Sorry pal, tapped out. If you wait I can get some, I’m heading back right away.” He nodded and turned off the fuel cell feed, shouting “Take your time” as I neared the gate. I just might be able to take him up on the offer.

No such luck. She was in a furious mood, probably because of that fat cop sitting across from her in a grav-lounge. His girth was seriously over-loading the drives that kept the whole thing suspended. I greet him with the usual “Hey slim”, his jowls grimacing at the stab. Frankie shoots me a wincing glare, shutting me up. Bob continues with his sleazy banter right then “As I was saying before your boy-toy interrupted, I got bills to pay too lady. The new mayor has been sniffing around and his bitch of a D.A. is looking to get famous. We have to spread some more cash and dust or we’ll all be digging in the slag pile soon.” Frankie considers this and then uses her embedded controls to call a house-bot over. The unit drops off a case next to the groaning lounge and scampers away with a whirr.

Bob picks up the bribes, checks them and smiles, “This should do nicely, thanks Frankie.” “Make sure it gets used properly Bobby, I don’t need hassles right now. Now go on, I need to talk in private.” The grav-lounge and its passenger excuse themselves. As Frankie watches the cop’s sled vanish towards the city in a cloud of dust through one of her view screens, she asks “Any trouble today? You’re back quick”. “None, a tourist bought the whole kit early. Just came back to pick up another load.” I figured she wouldn’t care to hear about the incident with Dummy and Spooky, I wanted her back in a good mood. “Sure, let’s settle up then … want a drink?” Her scent was driving me crazy already. As I handed over the take, she smiled and purred “You’ve been a good boy, come here …” She could be so grateful.

As I got ready to leave, Frankie told me to “Get ready for something big, big enough to cash out and leave this rock.” I didn’t know what that meant, but replied with my usual “See you later babe” as I walked past the airlock and out into the cool evening. I roused the crawler driver “Here’s you fare, let’s get back to town.” He grinned and turned the vehicle around, its balloon tires scuffing the rock beneath them as he put the machine in motion.

The evening crowd was already setting Gibson’s bowels in motion. The streets and alleys were full of off-shift miners and dockworkers looking to spend their overtime. Pack in hand I walked through the main drag, exchanging product for credits with my regulars here and there. A patrolman glides by on his scooter and nods towards me. Looks like Frankie’s money was already working its magic. A little greed goes a long way. From the number of buzzers looking for a fix, it looked like business was good at the trans-ship station. One of the nicer things about being able to send all your pollution-generation off-world is that it allowed folks to make things nice again on Earth. At least I heard it was nice, I never want to see it again.

Anyways, there’s plenty of elbow room if you want it. All you need is a contract and a shuttle ride. Or a sponsor with lots of money, like my Frankie. We got here just in time to ride the first boom-wave; I figure I’ll be dead long before it runs out. So far we’re making out just fine, Frankie and I. I just wish I was free to love her on my own terms. Oh hell, could be worse … I could be in Billy’s shoes. Hooked for life with no escape and no hope of anything better. That must be a miserable experience; I should feel worse about it. She made me do it … no, that’s not true. I wanted to, just to please her. So one day I took the stuff I’d been working on for my thesis, and gave it a little test.

The bad thing about most opiates is the harsh withdrawal. People get addicted to lots of things: other people’s money, depraved sex, setting kittens on fire … all kinds of sick, disgusting shit. With the dust it was easy as can be; you take your hit … and just mellow for a while. No meth-induced thrashing, no hallucinations, no munchies. Just a really nice feeling; and then back to work. Heck, in some stations it was a recommended item, it kept folks from frying their brains with a plasma-torch out of boredom, but the jerk-offs at the DrugConglomerateInc didn’t want the competition, or couldn’t match it. This stuff is perfectly natural, except for the gene-enhanced plants of course. Makes the real bees fly funny too; in fact that’s how I discovered it.

I had been playing with the sequencer and some normal, run-of-the-mill Colorado sunflower seeds, like the kind you find anywhere in the rolling plains East of Boulder. Some farmers had been looking at how to get bigger seeds and more oil out of them so they could cash out and sell to the OilCo’s. By then all of the old-style combustion engines that still powered the bigger trucks and equipment ran on bioDiesel, and the Saudis had been told to go pound sand. So these farmers setup a research grant at CU, which is where I came in. I’d dated Frankie a couple of times, and had done a little pipe-smoking with Billy and his first ball-and-chain. One day over some fusion Hindu-BQ, she made a little proposition. We got a hold of some nice Peruvian poppies, and I started playing. That’s when I noticed the bees, and a little later Billy was a junkie.

The nice thing about sunflowers, they’re not picky. The crappiest soil will do and the more sunlight the better they grow. One day Frankie comes in with two tickets to Mars, which were hard to get back then unless you signed your life away. I turned in my thesis, the farmers got their flower seeds – the normal ones – and we were off. I convinced her to buy Billy’s ride, it’s the least we could do and we could use him as a test monkey. Like I said no withdrawal so I figured no addiction. I was wrong about that. It wasn’t until later that we figured out that my little experiment would be a bonanza. By then Billy was on his second wife and for some reason I couldn’t get enough of Frankie. We started selling, ran into some easily-fixed legal tangles and setup our little Martian enterprise.

A couple of years and Gibson City is our playground. It’s not cheap, but having the law on the take sure beats living under armed guard. Most of the folks around the gutter part of town know me, as I usually make some rounds in person to see how the dust is working. I go to the pushers to move most of it, but I keep a few regulars as my guinea pigs. Billy’s my best, although I get plenty of feedback. It’s usually good; I’ve got it nailed down now. Occasionally an allergic reaction pops up, but those folks still take it. It’s that good.

Here comes Billy now, “Hey Friend”, he smiles and waves me over. For some reason he seems a little happier than usual. Maybe he’s taking other kinds of junk too, who knows with Billy. Either that or he’s found his next missus. I don’t know how he does it, but ladies sure put up with a lot of crap from him. He walks over and pulls me into an alley. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and starts talking. “Remember when you met Frankie? She wasn’t that hot still you’ve been putting up with her for what, five standard years?” I look at him and reply, slightly menacing, “Now look Billy, I don’t give you shit about your life, what do you want?” He just smiles, and I want to let Joe’s goons work him over, just like that off-world buffoon.

After a moment he says, “Relax man. Look, you ever wonder why you put up with her, I mean, all her sleeping around and stuff. I’ll tell you why … while you were busy with flowers, she had me working on a little side gig. Pheromones baby!” I look at him, impatient and confused. He just keeps jawing, “She had me cook up a little love-potion, special-like. I use it all the time. She tried it and you fell hard, like a chump. I couldn’t believe it! Anyways, I’ve always felt guilty about that …” “Billy, Billy … please stop”, I replied as tears of relief washed down my face. Now I knew, now I understood. I started babbling “Don’t apologize, I screwed you up good …” “Oh its cool man,” he keeps on smiling, “I knew but what the heck. I can quit anytime, I just love the feeling, you know?” I start nodding, then he hands me a little vial, “This is the package I was telling you about, the big deal. Had it made special for you. Take it.”

I hold the vial in my hand, looking at it suspiciously. “What is it?” I ask him. “The answer to all your troubles. Take it and you can dump her anytime.” “I’m not sure, what …”, I start to mumble. “It’s safe, an antidote to her scent. Just take it regularly”, he replies. “Ok Billy … I … I’ll think about it.” “Whatever … just remember who your friend is … say, you got any dust on you?” “Sure, sure … here take this”, I hand over a few packets and he walks away, whistling a ridiculous tune. “See you later pal!” he waves as he ducks into a bar. I stare back, and then look at the vial. For a moment I think about smashing it. I lift my hand as if to throw it against the concrete wall across the alley. Instead I put in my pocket, “Thanks Billy … I owe you one”, I mutter to the ground as I go look for a ride to her place.

Initial Post and Welcome to Past, Present and Future Ramblings

Welcome to my blog, a place for my musings about the Past, Present and Future. I'll also publish my attempts at short-story writing here, along with any other creative electronic meanderings I might decide to unleash on you. Once in a while I may open up a political topic or two, along with general threads on anything that catches my attention at the moment.

I hope you enjoy my posts, or at least they don't offend too much. Not trying to be P.C., but would like to remain civil. The way I see it, people are entitled to their opinion, no matter how insane.