mercury1-photo-nasa.jpgThe image above is courtesy NASA/JPL.

Last month, before a bunch of deadlines ambushed me (strange how they do that, even when you're expecting them), I managed to add a few thousand words to The Sun Runners after a long period of dormancy, and pushed the manuscript above 60,000 words. It feels good to be thinking about fiction again after so long. This past year hasn't been a good one thing for me in terms of creative energy, and that is not a surprise, frankly. It may be ambitious, but I hope to write "The End" for this draft of The Sun Runners by the end of this year. And then it's time to go back to the beginning and write the whole thing again. It's been a good draft, but it's still a draft. It needs work.

The story is now split between two protagonists standing astride a difficult period in the history of the Mercury colony. We have young Frieda, the Crown Princess of the latitude-town known as the Messenger, on the moment when the Earth wakes up from "the Silence" and sends a message asking to meet with the leadership of Mercury. We also have her grandmother Adelheid, currently the dowager regent who doesn't trust the Earth one jot, and we see her fifty years earlier, at the moment when the Earth went silent due to environmental and economic collapse, cutting off and isolating its space colonies. With the Mercury colonies far from self-sufficient, this means a very bad time for the people there.

In this section below, we see military officer Adelheid who has, practically against her will, risen to the level of command as the situation deteriorates around her following the Earth's collapse. Here, after the Messenger has pulled across the dark of Mercury close to the dusk line in order to have time to make repairs, she has managed to wrest some stability for her latitude-town, but she's made some hard choices, and is not feeling in the mood to celebrate, even if back on Earth, it's New Year's Eve, 2312.


"Adelheid?"

She glanced up, and saw Felix standing at the doorway in the dim light. She smiled. It was unfamiliar enough a feeling that she marvelled at it. "Yes, Felix?"

He stepped forward, hands behind his back. "Apparently, the repairs are complete."

Adelheid straightened up. How long have I been working here? "Already?"

"A little early, as it turns out," Felix replied. "We had some lucky breaks to get the repairs done quicker."

"Oh." Strange. I don't feel lucky. "Thank heavens for some small mercies, right?"

Felix smiled. Then he brought out his hands. One held an envelope, which he held out to her. "And, in other news, I apparently have to call you Colonel, now."

Her brow furrowed. "What?" She snatched the envelope and opened it.

"You've been promoted." He took a step back and watched. "We all have."

"But, who--" She shook her head. "With Ramkin dead--"

"The civilian council made the decision," Felix replied.

"We haven't got a civilian council anymore," Adelheid snapped.

Felix picked up the paper and glanced at the signature. "We do have assistant deputy clerk Meitner, apparently. Head of filing. That's as high up as the civilian leadership goes, I guess."

"We should do something about that," said Adelheid. "Call an election."

"When we have the time. In the meantime, he and the others at his level had a vote. They made the call."

Adelheid paused, then sighed. "I guess somebody has to."

Felix straightened up and saluted. "Congratulations, Colonel Koning."

She looked away. "Felix, stop it."

He sagged, and stood silently. Adelheid could almost feel his stare on her, but she said nothing. At the same time, she didn't order him to leave.

She heard Felix step back and pull something from his jacket. She hear the clink of two things being planted on the tabletop. By the time she turned, he'd unscrewed a small bottle and had poured out a clear liquid into two glasses.

"Alcohol ration," he replied to her questioning gaze. "For today."

"What day?" asked Adelheid. She looked up at the calendar, but she hadn't updated it.

"December 31, 2312." Felix checked his watch. "Twenty-three fifty-four Greenwich Mean Time, apparently. That explains the noise you may have heard outside."

Adelheid peered past him at the door, and listened hard. It took her a second, but over the purr of the Messenger, she finally heard it. The sounds of celebration.

"Happy New Year?" muttered Felix. He raised his ration shot of alcohol, looking for the possibility of a toast.

Adelheid sighed and took her glass. "They won't be saying it on Earth, you know. Assuming there's anyone there left to say it at all."

But Felix kept his hand out, glass held high. After a moment, Adelheid tapped her shot glass to Felix's. She slugged it back and wished there was another.

"Do you think we'll keep the Earth calendar?" she asked. "Measure everything in Earth Years when there's no-one there to keep time?"

"Maybe." Felix leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't like the idea of measuring things in Mercury Years. Too many New Year's festivals. I'm not really in the mood to celebrate."

"Neither am I." Adelheid put her face in her hands.

"But we have to celebrate," said Felix. "At least once an Earth year."

She looked up. "We do?"

"Yeah." He stepped back and opened the door. The sound of celebration echoing through the corridors increased. "Because despite yesterday, we're here today. We've stabilized our rations. We've repaired the Messenger. We can hold out indefinitely. We can get through today, but we need something to get us to tomorrow."

She gave him a wry look. "Nice inspiring speech. How long did you take to think it up?"

"It's true, though." He took a deep breath, then looked her in the eye. "We're still here today. And we're going to be here tomorrow. So, let's celebrate that, at least. Celebrate... and remember." He stepped back a bit, indicating the door.

Adelheid sighed. Then she put the shot glass down and stood up.

This brought her close to Felix, and she hesitated. They stared at each other, and the silence lengthened. In it, Adelheid thought, Felix. Always been there. Looking on the bright side of things. Making me hope rather than fear. My best friend since we were in pre-vocational school. I'm so glad to have him here. My best friend.

She frowned. My best. Friend.

Felix looked away. He cleared his throat. "We should get going," he said. "I think the new Colonel should address her troops."

"Yeah," said Adelheid quickly. They turned at the same time for the door, and bumped shoulders. They stopped, staring.

Felix took a step back and let Adelheid lead the way.

They walked into the corridor, towards the sounds of celebration.

pexels-photo-42157.jpg

(The image above is courtesy Pexels.com)

Below is a piece I wrote for The Curator of Forgotten Things. The story is still at the "throw everything at the wall and see what sticks" stage, and this monologue probably will not make it, but it helps me understand the world that protagonist Lucy Shao is living in...

=+=+=

Dad lost his job when I started high school.

That sounds more traumatic than it was, which shows you how well society handled the transition, if you think about it.

He was laid off because his profession had been automated. I'm surprised, now, that it came as a surprise: everybody cheered the launch of self-driving cars, and they did make our streets safer, our transportation more convenient, and our insurance premiums negligible. But people didn't realize that self-driving cars meant self-driving trucks, and the economic case for them was beyond compelling.

Robot drivers don't get fatigued. They don't get distracted. They don't drive impaired. The Luddites who fought against the automation of the industry (and I'm not insulting them; they called themselves that, with a sense of historical callback that I appreciated, but ironically no sense of what actually happened to the first Luddites in history) didn't stand a chance.

Fortunately, somebody in management or in the government was wise enough to soften the blow. Dad was laid off, but he got a generous severance package. And then his pension kicked in, ten years early and higher than expected. And Mom was a teacher, so she was bringing in a decent income of her own, and we had enough to live comfortably, with a roof over our heads.

So, while Dad may have been upset at no longer being a trucker anymore, he told me he was happy. He now had time to work in his workshop, and learn to use the tools he'd been gathering over the years. He built Mom a garden shed. The second time, it even managed to stay up.

By the time I'd graduated high school, they had stopped reporting unemployment statistics. Many economists were questioning their accuracy, anyway. A quirk of reporting on unemployment is that it doesn't count the number of people who aren't working. Instead -- and this is important -- they only count those out of work who are actively looking for work. If you've given up, because the industry you worked at has gone to the robots, or because you haven't worked at all for the past two years, or because there isn't a position anywhere that you qualify for, and they're filling up anyway, then you slip out of the system. The numbers don't count you. In the wrong hands, you can be forgotten.

Fortunately, somebody remembered. The year I graduated high school was the year the government brought in the National Minimum Income. Suddenly, every citizen and landed immigrant received a cheque from their government equivalent to working a full time job at minimum wage -- which had previously been set at $15/hour. And they abolished university tuition.

So, at the age of eighteen, I was suddenly being paid $30,000 per year to... just live.

It wasn't an extravagant living, but it was enough to get my own place and put food on the table, with or without my parents' support. Also, everything was cheap, another benefit of automation.

The tensions just seemed to end after that. The restaurants filled up. So did the coffee shops,. The libraries did brisk business. Governments were re-elected. Wars faded. We had what we needed, and all we had to do was sit there.

I didn't like just sitting there. I never have.

But by now there weren't many jobs available. The service industry was all but automated. Pubs served beer by ATM. Even the baristas were mechanical. A handful of places charged a premium rate for human service, but the people who worked those jobs clung to them. There was hardly ever an opening.

So, since I didn't want to just sit around, and since a University education was free, I went to University. I found my passions. I figured out what I wanted to do with my life.

And I could have done it. And maybe I should have done it after the job I found ended up being sitting behind a desk at an empty warehouse. Maybe I should have quit and pretended to earn an income from my own business.

I didn't quit for a few reasons. For one thing, $30,000 a year isn't poverty but it's not far above it. The extra paycheque helped me build up a cushion, and I love cushions, both financial and memory-foam.

And as I looked out at a life without work, I couldn't see myself doing it. I am Lucy Shao, a graduate with a bachelor's degree in history. I work for a museum supply company, even if their warehouses are empty. I hope to work at a museum someday.

I don't need to work, but I want to work. Because I am Lucy Shao, and everything I told you about my career goals is a part of my name. It's a part of me.

I couldn't give that up. Not yet.

Thu, Nov
9
2017
Thu, Nov 9, 2017

Tim Hortons and the Good Place

tim-hortons-moncton-Stu-pendousmat.jpg

(The picture above is of a Tim Horton’s location in Moncton and is by Wikipedia user Stu Pendousmat. It is used in accordance with its Creative Commons License)

So, I was going through the drive through at Tim Hortons, ordering a quick set of snacks for the kids and me. The kids are at home. I pull up to the speaker and ask for a coffee (me), a sour cream glazed donut (also me), and two chocolate glazed donuts (for the kids). Then I remembered that Vivian prefers chocolate chip cookies, so I changed the order to one chocolate glazed donut and one chocolate chip cookie. The order appears on the screen, and I’m asked to pull up to receive it.

Well, a nice young woman takes my payment and starts handing out the order. There’s the coffee. There’s the sour cream glazed donut. There’s the chocolate chip cookie. And there’s two chocolate glazed donuts. Not one, two.

I know I paid for just one.

At first I think, “Cool! Free donut!” But then I think about The Good Place, and how little things can have big consequences for the rest of eternity, and my next thought is, “Damn! I’ve got to hand one of those back.”

I called the young woman back, and said to her, “I’m sorry, you gave me two, and I only asked for one.”

“Okay,” she said, taking the bag, and putting one more chocolate glazed donut into it.

“No, no,” I said. “You gave me too many. You gave me two instead of one!”

She cocks an eyebrow. “You want me to add two more?”

“Nonono!”

We got it worked out. Eventually. After some wrangling. She didn’t even have to talk to her manager or anything like that. So, I went home, chuckling to myself, and handed off the goodies.

And found that they’d accidentally substituted a chocolate glazed donut for my sour cream glazed one.

Michael Schur, I blame you.

Fri, Nov
3
2017
Fri, Nov 3, 2017

Paradise Lost II: The Good Place

the-good-place.jpg

Quite possibly, the best television show in production at the moment is The Good Place. NBC’s extremely quirky comedy about the hereafter is fantastically acted, supremely detailed, and far, far smarter than most other shows on television at the moment. We love all of the actors, particularly Kristen Bell as the embittered Eleanor Shellstrop, Ted Danson as the afterlife architect Michael, and William Jackson Harper as the ethics professor Chidi Anagonye. William Jackson Harper, in particular, is known to me (and my kids) through his portrayal of Danny Rebus in The New Electric Company, so I feel as proprietorial thrill as I do about Lin Manuel Miranda skyrocketing career, and delighted that his talent is being recognized.

Cameron Dixon put us onto this series after the first season came out, and the show recently finished its first half of its second season and is going on a two-month hiatus. Of course, it ended on a cliffhanger. I have to say that Erin and I have gotten deeply invested in this series. We love the characters, we love the details, and I’m enjoying trying to figure out where this series is heading next.

I know this is a fool’s errand. The series has pulled some genuine surprises, not least of which is how well they’ve managed to follow up on their first season revelation. Seeing how the characters have developed, and seeing the plotting guns that remain on the wall, I am confident of some big moments to come.

There is little that I can say about this series without spoilers, which makes it a challenge to review, and I am eager to jot down some of my speculations. The series really does turn on a major plot point at the end of season one, so you really have to have seen the first season in order to appreciate the awesome developments of season two.

So, what follows isn’t really a review. I’m going to assume that if you’ve read this far, you have watched the first season and, indeed, you are as up to speed as Erin and I on this series. I am going to make a prediction based on the most recent episode (Derek), and see where the chips land in two months.


Tue, Oct
31
2017
Tue, Oct 31, 2017

Halloween 2017

halloween-2017-vivian.jpg

Today’s Halloween was quieter than years past. I only had one bowl of chocolate eyes to give out instead of two and, unlike last year, we came away with it still half full. There were visitors, however, and it was good to see them. I also got a chance, this time to swap places with Erin and follow Nora as she stalked the neighbourhood, politely asking for candy.

Winter was in the air earlier that day. As I stopped to pick up dinner, it was spitting a light rain. I could see flecks of sleet on my sleeves. The wind was bitter. However, walking Nora, I’m pleased to say the weather had taken a turn for the better. It wasn’t windy, and the rain held off. It was actually quite pleasant, all the more so to hear the delighted cries of the kiddies as they went on their rounds.

It’s been a bit of a stressful week for us, between deadlines at work and at school, not to mention upcoming birthday parties to plan (with associated sleepover). There’s also the question of grim anniversaries weighing on all of us, I’m afraid. But this evening, for the first time in a long while, I felt a bit better. Winter is coming again, but maybe some of those days will offer prairie weather, with blue skies and bright snow. We can but hope.

halloween-2017-nora.jpg

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