Thoughts On Genetic Memory

Wow, it has been awhile since I have written here.  Not unintentionally, I guess.  Simply working on other projects and having two conventions around the holidays will do that.  Well, then on to the actual matter at hand...

The idea of genetic, or racial and collective memory is not new.  I suppose the term genetic memory is more commonly used, as racial memory is decidedly un p.c, and collective memory seems more metaphysical.  For my part, I probably use the term collective memory and genetic memory more often.  While I have understood the concept of collective memory for many years, I really did not think about it as much until I read Arthur C. Clarke's groundbreaking book Childhood's End.  Without revealing too much regarding the book (and though from 1952 I highly recommend reading it), aliens come to the planet and demand the end of hostilities and potential nuclear war.  I know, sounds like a recent and not so recent movie, but Childhood's End is much more of a philosophical read, as Clarke delves into not only our past fears, but our future ones as well.  Clarke uses the term racial memory in the book, but I find the term genetic memory more palpable these days.  Further, my understanding of genetic memory hearkens to Clarke's ideas in this regard.  Put simply, Childhood's End is a tale of innocence lost (hence the title) and how we must eventually come to terms with our collective and individual genetic memories.

What, then is genetic memory?  Is it simply instinct, our natural reaction to images, sounds, words, feelings? Or is it something higher, a collective memory that reaches from a future already written though without a clear understanding.  In science fiction or science philosophy, I can easily propose such questions; however, the science of the 21st century might find the idea of a future memory within our genetic structure laughable.  Therefore, I am delving truly into the realm of philosophy based on some good reading and probably gut instinct (or gut insanity depending on who you ask and how you feel in the matter).  Regardless, I can only offer my view, which has been shaped through my own ruminations, writings, and reading on the subject.  To me, I see this memory in action in many ways, especially in the instinct of our fears, our acquiescence in the strangest of situations, and our ever popular mob mentality.  I understand it in my darkest moments, in the abyss of thought that can drag you into places you never wanted.  And yet, I feel it in the reflection of the light of the universe in our eyes, the gentle hope of a new day, the promise of a home in the cradle of stars.  We are the worst and the best in ourselves, and much of it comes from our instinct to hate and our instinct to love, what is written in our genetic code, our memory of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

While this memory can be on a collective level, it can be, at least to my mind, exceedingly personal.  I have noted this recently in some of my writings, wondering if a few of the things I had written were less about present inspiration but more drawing from a memory of the future.  It could be I simply have the mirror of hindsight, though a few poems and commentaries seemed remarkably prescient and appropriate.  Of course, considering the way I write, it is rather easy to project one piece upon multiple situations.  The cynic would merely opine that it is all mere coincidence, and some part of me would be inclined to agree.  The realist in me notes my penchant for overthinking at times.  The optimist, the dreamer... the romantic, the man who has seen so much wonder in this amazing universe, been given so much for so little in return, understands the truth, even if it is only a small truth.  The higher truths tend to escape us anyways, even when we are confident in our understanding, as I thought so many times, especially in the vanity of youth.  On the other hand, I could be drawing upon that memory even now, yielding only to the truth that exists in all of us.  

One thing I do know, after reading Childhood's End, I never looked at the stars quite the same way.  We are the universe made manifest, after all... and knowing that has helped me understand, for good or ill, past memories of future's days.

C.

Night's Dawn...

I am certainly not attempting to sound ominous in this entry, for the title has less to do with me but with the Night's Dawn Trilogy by Peter F. Hamilton. At 3600 pages, it is an epic read, and can be dizzying even for the most hardcore of hardcore sci-fi fans. Hamilton does an amazing job creating a breathing universe with excellent characters and characterizations. If he has one flaw, it might be his overtelling of the science, but I believe his background is in physics, so I am willing to give him some leeway there (as if I am giving advice to prolific sci-fi writers :) I also think the books are a bit more graphic sexually than most sci-fi novels, but most of the time, the sex serves an end. Regardless of what surrounds the novels, at their heart is a simple philosophical tale, at least to me. And I fully admit, what I find simplicity might drive others mad, so take that as you will.

The novel revolves around the dead coming back to life and possessing bodies through a quantum mishap, and the series of events spiral out of control until everyone from Al Capone to Fletcher Christian are taking over bodies. It sounds a little out there, but is excecuted quite well and really takes an interesting tack on the standard back from the dead stories... quantum zombies? Sort of... In the end, it all boils down to the nature of the soul and how humans (and other races) can deal with the end of their own existence, and the existence of the universe. I think that is why I really connect with this author and the novels. I sort of understand combating the nature of the soul. I can see the end of existence as well as the continuation thereof in what little glimpses I have been afforded, and what little I have been able to impart to others. The novels, while grand space opera, reach into something simpler, and that is also the essence of good storytelling as well.

In any event, reading the books again has made me ponder our attempts at existing and continuing to exist. We take a lot with us on our journeys, and we do not want to leave it all behind, though I think we must. Well, we can leave it all behind but one emotion, and I will refrain from the obvious in that regard. I think the trials and travails of this life bind us to an existence we may not want when we pass on, and maybe that is why so many of us keep returning lifetime after lifetime (or however you ascribe an afterlife :) Perhaps that is why I am so calm about that one thing at least. Sure, I have plenty of issues, but I think I can face the twilight of my existence with a calm acceptance... a serenity of a sort (thank you, master Yoda, lol) that can govern the remainder of this mortal life. Again, I could be full of it... but I can think of worse fates.

C.

In at the Death

Such a cheery title I know...

Well, while recovering from a little self-induced stomach issues (eating something I thought might cause some problems, typical), I was able to at least pick up the latest of my favorite author's books today: no, not JK Rowling for all you Lord of the Pre-Teen fans out there :) The author in question would be Harry Turtledove, and the book is the last of his Great War saga, called Settling Accounts: In at the Death. For those of you who do not know this author, Mr. Turtledove is one of the leading writers of counterfactual or alternate history. Most call it alternate history since counterfactuals tend to be non-fiction fiction, while alternate history is considered science fiction. The main difference is that he does not have to site his sources (though he could being a professor of Byzantine History at UCLA). Anyway, so far have been thrilled to read this final book in an 11 book saga spanning a world where the Confederates won the War of Northern Aggression in 1862 and went their own way causing a chain of events that leads to the CSA fighting the USA in the Great War, and in these last books a Second Great War (since the war is unnamed in the book, but for all practical purposes WWII).

While it is not my intent to actually review the book,(especially since I am not finished) I do recommend anything that Mr. Turtledove has written, especially his American History stuff. Indeed, one of his stand-alone books, Guns of the South is one of my favorite books of all time. All this being said, what actually got me to post about was the whole idea of alternate timelines, something I have written a little about and think of constantly. While it is nice to think that our hopes and dreams may not have been forlorn, that those we have lost might live on in another, parallel world, as many of those worlds might be a ruin of hell or the beauty of paradise itself. All it has taken is a misstep, a bullet gone awry or the wrong (or right) words said at the wrong time, and a world could have diverged with ease, creating?

Therein lies the question, this philosopher's search. I have wondered of their validity (and as a branch of history alternate histories are most valid) and of the possible dangers... of fragmenting worlds and souls. I suspect, due to the nature of quantum mechanics and my own philosophy I will have no answers in that accord. The best I can do is enjoy alternate worlds, perhaps write some counterfactuals myself in the hope of understanding the past through different futures.

C.

Books That Changed This Life

First off, I would like to thank M for inadvertently inspiring this post for while commenting on her most recent post I thought a little bit about books that inspired me/changed me for the better (worse could be for another time, I suppose, but I really can't think of too many books that have done that... depressed, sucked, needed to be used for toilet paper, yes, but not made me a worse person). So, I thought I would talk about a few books that have helped inspire the person I am, sort of made me think about some of the deeper things, and allowed me to really see. Of course, much of this change comes from within, but certain writings can show us the door that needs to be opened. Whether we open it or not is up to us.

1) Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter by Thomas Cahill: I did not read this until fall of 2005 (I think it came out in 2004 anyway), but since then, this excellent book, especially the first two chapters, have stayed with me. Cahill proposes that the Greeks showed us how to Fight, Feel, Think, and Party, and that is why they matter... for some, the bit on partying alone might make them matter. However, the chapters 'How to Fight' and 'How to Feel' deal with the Iliad and The Odyssey respectively (and shows the order, unlike many American high schools, in which they should be read), and the idea of such emotions in Western literature. From a philosophical point of view, the books are the thread of Homer's life, first as a young man reaching into the world and doing what young men do. The words and images of The Iliad are that of a young man, and you get a sense of hopefulness that is borne of youth throughout the poem/book, even as you know that most of the participants are doomed but a few.

Some of those few are chronicled in The Odyssey and I need not explain the tale for it is one of those books that we all know (or should know). The interesting thing about The Odyssey is the fact it seems more primitive (hence it being taught first) or not even written/composed by Homer. What Cahill proposes, and what seems to be the real sense after reading the book/poem again, is that The Odyssey is the work of an older man, one who has seen much, and one who simply longs for his rest, one who longs for home. The wanderer that is Odysseus, after so much travail, earns his rest and the horrors of war, the rage of Achilles is finally stilled in the land and woman he loved so much. In many ways, this is the essence of life, the journey that we all undertake and so many times falter, but we are always seeking, longing, and that emotion, that hope, was borne amid the waters of a wine-dark sea.

2) Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke: Fiction can do as much to alter the perceptions of the soul as non-fiction (especially if one feels holy books fiction more than non-fiction, but that is something we all must decide individually), and Arthur C. Clarke has been one of those authors that has continually made me question the ideas of time and memory, and the beauty of Childhood's End was that it was written 20 years before I was born. Clarke proposes the idea of racial memory for the past and the future and that things in our past that we fear are not necessarily borne of the evils of the past, but the tide of the future. The book also preys upon the fears of nuclear holocaust and ufos in general at the time, but it remains a classic for the questions it forces the reader to ask of itself and humanity in general.

3) Robots and Empire and Foundation and Earth by Isaac Asimov: I must discuss these books together for they are linked in plot and theme, and one is the direct inheritor of the other, finally linking Asimov's Robot novels with the Foundation series. As literature, it is masterful, as philosophy and ethics, the novels are examples of what we can be if we truly put our minds to it (in some cases literally). While these books were written in the 80's, they are borne of the mindset of the 50's and the novels from that time. In that, both books are classic science fiction, though a little updated. Still, they keep the feel of those fantastic stories of a generation past.

Asimov was the first science fiction author I read, and I think I read the first Foundation books initially, then I was swept up in the later books as they came out when I was a teenager. Asimov opened a door that already existed thanks to movies and tv shows like Star Wars and Star Trek, but it helped me realize a love affair with science fiction writing that has hardly abated even in the face of my love for non-fiction and history.

4) Timeline by Michael Crichton: I must mention this book for I would never have read the book that comes after this had I not read this book first. Timeline was a brilliantly executed piece of fiction (even if the movie was a poor imitation of the novel) that pushed the bounds of the ideas of 'time travel' but those of the common notions of the Middle Ages. At the time, I enjoyed Medieval History, but nothing like the hold it has over me now. Something about the clarity of discussion in the novel about Medieval society and the Hundred Years War clicked, and when I turned to his bibliography, it was clear he had done his research. Many of the books he recommended I have since used in papers and found them to be amazing books in their own right, and Crichton led me to another author that I might not have read otherwise, the eminent Medieval historian, Norman F. Cantor.

5) In the Wake of the Plague: The Black Death and the World It Made by Norman F. Cantor: Dr. Cantor has been writing about the Middle Ages longer than I have been alive and has written several books I highly recommend for the casual historian and for those who study intellectual history (meaning the history of a history). His book Inventing the Middle Ages is a seminal work on Medieval intellectual history, though I recommend it only if you are serious about history. It is a tough read. As for as In the Wake of the Plague, this was a book that really cemented my love for the time period, not so much because it is a plague history, but because it treats the plague as the many things it was: a history altering event as much as it was a pandemic as it was a cultural shift. The plague caused many events that seemed little at the time but would shape the world as we knew it. One example is the migration of the European Jewry to Poland and Eastern Europe, which would have enormous ramifications to say the least in the 19th and 20th centuries. It altered the economy from one of predominantly agriculture to a wage and town economy thanks to the population shifts, and it created a reactionary thinking toward the Church, leading to works such as The Decamaron and the insight necessary for the Renaissance. Alas, it did not alter war as it only created a small hiccup in the Hundred Years War, but the plague had a subtle hand in creating the modern world, for good or ill. For me, this has always been important, this shift in understanding, for without such death and suffering the world we know might never have been.

Well, this has run longer than I thought, and five books should do, though I could list a couple of others, but it is not necessary. As I mentioned before, the books have helped illuminate the passageways. How I proceeded has always been up to me.

C.

Nerdiness Survey/Interview

Perhaps inspired by the anime conventions starting up again, or just nerdiness in general, I have decided to dig out an old nerd survey I created awhile back. It is certainly a less intimidating read than the prior post, and you can all see what a total nerd I really am :) Read on and I leave posterity to you, my fellow nerds and geeks.

btw, for fairness' sake, I shall complete the survey as well... and while it seems like a lot of questions, most of the answers are pretty easy, and of course, subjective, but that is the fun of this :)

1.First Name?

2.Age you would prefer to be?

3.Immortality?

4.What is your quest?

5.Nerd or Geek?

6.Single, Pre-Owned, or Attached?

7.History or Geography?

8.Favorite Sport?

9.Favorite Pro Sports Team?

10.Do you understand the infield fly rule?

11.Do you understand Cricket?(the default answer should be 'no', even if you are from the UK or former British colonial holding)

12.Fusion or Fission?

13.Do you own a lightsaber (real or otherwise)?

14.What is your favorite color?

15.What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

16.Star Trek, Babylon 5, or Battlestar Galactica?

17.Phaser or Blaster?

18.Superman or Batman?

19.Spiderman or Wolverine?

20. Harry Potter or JRR Tolkien (or alternatively, CS Lewis)?

21.Robert Frost or Edgar Allen Poe?

22.Weather aside, do you feel more day baseball games should be played?

23.Who fought each other in the Hundred Years War?

24.How many digital media devices do you own? (ie, ipods, computers, cellphones, video game systems)

25.360, PS3, or the worst name for a video game system ever(Wii)?

26.What is the longest amount of time you waited in line for a movie?

27. And finally, if you had a teleportation device that would send you into any of the alternate universe described above, where would you go?

C.

Alternate Lives: Falling Toward Eternity

Just a warning. I do recommend reading the previous post, Alternate_Lives:_Awareness. As it is part one to the story, it allows this post to make a little more sense (such as it is :).
Again, thanks in advance for reading, and I appreciate all of you that have taken the time to read this rather long story.

Interlude

The others signaled to her.

Time.

Ironic to use the word in such a matter considering, time was what was at stake. No, not ironic. Nothing was anymore. She sighed, as if it could be heard in this unrelenting void, the space she moved between. The others could barely be felt, they were so distant, waiting for the ultimate end. Still, they were quite aware of what had to happen, aware of his purpose. Like many of their experiments, though, he was not exactly moving according to plan. She considered the failures, though it pained her to recollect them.

Awareness… it came a little too late. Some of it was his doing, others environmental. Then, it took him too long to control his awareness; however, his control was at issue now. He had become too good at crossing the boundaries of time and space. They only wanted him aware, not able to control anything. She had warned them of the possibility. They refused to listen, of course. She knew… knew he would become like this. But then she had always known the best and worst in him.

The others grew impatient… they had waited so long. She simply recognized their thoughts and agreed. It was time, as it ever was in the realm between the seconds. She only hoped that this, too, would not backfire on them.

Part II: Falling Toward Eternity

snap

I watched them sleep. Such has been my curse, ever since I found… ever since I left her. Still, her happiness has always been most important to me, and in that place, with that um… me, she finally could be happy. So why have I kept coming back to this moment, the precise moment I left her with me? Transdimensional mechanics were far too confusing, and I had studied the subject for eons it seemed. I sighed, though they could not hear me. It seemed better that way. Pity, though, she still thought the person lying next to her was the real me, the one who brought her to this reality, our own Eden. Then why did I decide to leave her?

I pondered this question for some time, even while jumping from one reality to the next with a skill that would make any cross-dimensional traveler proud. Not that I had met any others beside myself, and those who decided to come with me. I wondered if I had been abusing my abilities, putting friends and family in the exact situation that they should have been in all along. I continued to check on them periodically, and with a few odd exceptions I could not control (like celestial mishaps and alien invasions), they all got on very well. I felt pleased with my work, almost like… well, almost like a beaming parent, or deity.

She stirred, sleeping a bit restlessly. Had I influenced the environment, caused her to emerge from the deep sleep of passion? No, she knew me better than anyone else, knew the real me, before my… emergence. She might have sensed me somehow. Perhaps it was a sort of dimensional attunement. We had traversed dozens of dimensions before settling on this one, a pastoral world that did not know the horrors that could lay in its future. Maybe… no. I doubt that could have been it. She was the catalyst, but was she ever aware?

Who’s chasing who?

What the…

I walked quietly out of the shelter and into the slight chill of the pre-dawn air. I heard… nothing. How I wished I… no. I turned back to her, watched her carefully, once the light in my eyes, now meant for other days. I started to reach to her, to touch her face one last time… but I could not.

‘Good night my love’, I whispered to the air.

I let them sleep, content in the moment. I let them have that at least. Morning would come soon, and they had this world to face… together.

snap

Something had bothered me about that night, watching them. I had these types of thoughts while traveling. It almost became an art, moving between the fabric of time and space. I could slow down, take my time if needed, or get there almost before I left. (I admitted that was a rather taxing trick) Normally, I gave myself about an hour or so, sometimes a little less, that way I could absorb some information about my destination. I had realized that this had been my problem early on in my travels. As I became aware, I was shifting between realities at a frighteningly fast pace, and hence my disorientation each time. Now, it was almost like walking through a door, except that I had been tearing apart the fabric of space-time. Occasionally, I thought of the consequences of my actions. Was I causing any rips in time and space, or accelerating the collapse of the universe, or several universes? I decided to leave that question for future generations to consider. Yet somewhere, in the depth of my being, I knew something was not quite right. Dimension hopping surely took its toll on some inherent nature of the universe. I really could not consider that. My purpose seemed set. I had learned so much, seen more than could be imagined. I could not stop, nor did I want to.

This one... this vision... had always intrigued me. One that got away, so to speak. She had a quality to her that I could not describe, even when I had known her, all too briefly. Had it been so long ago? Time, I thought, was irrelevant, yet my memories said otherwise. I really needed to look into that. Was I aging mentally? I had all but stopped the process of physically aging, one strange side effect of literally blasting myself apart and rebuilding myself with every transit. Did I die each time? I smiled slightly, bemused at my query. I had seen death. The answer really did surprise me.

I waited a little longer this time, almost as a ghost, observing patiently, perhaps more than I should have. I had my reasons, especially in this place. Through some strange twist of dimensional physics I could not even bear to comprehend, we only met in this dimension. How odd. And stranger still, it was the Prime… well, my Prime. The one I left, I suppose. Yet I still existed in Prime, even though the sum of my memories came from this dimension before my Awareness. How, then, was I functioning? Did I make a copy? Or did another me fill the void somehow?

These things continued to puzzle me as I watched our interaction, not long before I became aware. Ah, the answer. If I moved further into the future, would I still exist? No, I existed as myself, as this traveler.

What if we are all mirrors of the same soul, fragmenting more and more?

Right, waita… that voice again. I shook it from my mind focused on the task at hand, and decided to attempt something rather strange. This soul, this woman’s existence, was only in this reality. That had really disturbed me. No analog, how? It seemed as if I should do something about it. Maybe I could. What was that Einstein said once? Well, I’m not rolling dice, nor am I God. If I had such control of time and space, the ability to take others with me, could I not… yes. It would take a lot of doing. So be it. I hoped someone appreciated this. I concentrated and felt the fabric of space-time cry out in the pains of celestial birth.

Ow. That really hurt.

snap

Uh-oh.

The splendor of it all laid before me, literally diverging before my eyes. I was awestruck, really. Honestly, I thought it was a simple thing to create an alternate reality. I mean, we did it all the time it seemed. Every decision we made had another outcome, at least most of them, and therefore, an infinite number of alternate realities existed. So, why was the creation of this one so spectacular, and so… so… taxing. I simply suggested an alternate thought in her head. How bad could that have been? Maybe she was bound and determined not to have that thought. But there was only one of her. How? Why? And why did I feel as if I were drifting… quite fast actually, drifting back into… back into…Wait… I wanted to see what I had created, like all… I just wanted to see. I felt the divergence as if it were a part of myself, torn from my being. I saw through the universe’s eyes. I saw the lives I created. I saw…

snap

My room. What a terrible dream…too jumbled to even sort it out. I tried to clear my head, but could not. The world kept spinning. Was I out drinking? This would have been the usual result. I peered over at my dusty nightstand. No Gatorade, so intoxication was probably out. Sick… that was it. I was sick. The sense of nausea overwhelmed me, and I stumbled through the vertigo and into the bathroom, hoping not to create a terrible mess. I reached for the toilet, and the nausea left me. What the… that was quick. I stood up and noticed that the world had in fact stopped spinning. Good. Something was wrong, though.

I knew this place… my apartment, could smell the dust, the slight smell of dirty dishes, whatever take-out I had left in the sink, and the horrors that probably inhabited my refrigerator. I really needed to clean up. But that was not the problem. I was pretty sure I was a messy person. Not wrong… a little disgusted, but why should I have been if that was normal? I scanned the living room, looking for reminders, anything that would help sort my head out. The posters seemed right. TV, ok. Computer… again a little dusty. The books, ah… I fumbled through them, knowing a problem would arise. Medieval history, biography of Richard I, in English, um… Civil War battlefield atlas, ok, comic books, ah, light reading, and oh… how did that get in this pile? Nothing metaphysical or odd within the novels, though. I had hoped for something more. The realization sunk in. There was nothing more. Everything was fine, but why did it seem wrong?

Maybe I should have gone back to sleep. No, I did not need that… yet. A drink, maybe. I moved over to my windows and opened the blinds. The view over the pool was the same, though I could have sworn it was winter, and not the dead of summer. Hmm… the air conditioner was running full blast. Definitely summer. I sighed and sat down on my couch, hoping something, anything would come to my fragmented mind and answer some… any of my questions. If I only knew what the questions were, that would have helped as well. The longer I sat pondering, the more I wanted to drift… feeling a bit out of sorts, no more out of sorts, hearing voices that did not belong to me, seeing places I had no memory of. Loving those that I had never loved. It was becoming too much for me. A terrible, horrible thing. I did not want this, could not control the influx of emotion and memory.

That will cause problems very soon.

That voice… I knew it, but it was not the voice I thought it belonged too. How odd. Most of this was rather odd. It seemed as if I was expected to know some great truth and the world waited for me simply to produce the solution. Holding its breath, that’s how it felt. Why?

Because you have to make the decision.

I spun around as time seemed to slow, crawl to a stop. My apartment folded, shifted, and distorted. I even seemed to be out of place somehow. Her. But not quite… she reminded me of so many I had known… millions it seemed, but I know I could not have… or could I? She almost seemed ethereal, like I was confronting an angelic being. Her expression, though, was far less angelic.

“I know you… I think. No.” I was sure. “I do know you, but you’re… elsewhere.”

“Of course you do. Well, our souls know each other. And part of me is elsewhere, for now. And I am glad you’re not as confused I as I thought you would be.“ She spoke elegantly, almost with no trace of accent. “Oddly enough, we have very little time for discussion. I need to get you sorted out, and quickly.”

Funny, I had heard that before, too, but in real life…er… a life. “What’s happening… happened to me? I’m remembering far too much...”

“Are you? I doubt it. Your body is simply readjusting considering the strain you put it under.”

“Strain?”

“Congratulations. “ She waved her arms around my apartment, though she seemed to want to encompass more. “You managed to create your own reality. Even God needed a day’s rest after six days work. You’ve been asleep for weeks.”

“Oh…” I sniffed at the kitchen. “That explains a lot. No… wait… surely I’m not... “

“No… just in tune with the flow of space-time, but better than anyone else, I’ll grant you.” she smiled at that, as if she had something to do with it.

“Look… I feel like there is a grain, well, more than a grain of truth to all of this, but who the heck are you? Really? I mean, I know you, but I don’t. You should be having a happy existence in another lifetime with another… me. Pity that. “ I did not quite comprehend the memories flowing into me, but they were real enough.

“It’s really not important.”

“Yes. It is.” I shot her a cold glance. I had to know. Something, aside from the universe bending and collapsing around me, was not quite right.

She sighed, somewhat exasperated it seemed. I did not care. I wanted answers. “I’m an old… soul. We have known each other for a very long time and in many incarnations, in many realities, including this one. That’s the short answer. We don’t have time for longer explanations.”

Actually, it made sense, especially considering the memories and all that I had apparently done. I could not stop looking at her, feeling the emotion pour from her. Something was tearing at her with regards to me, and in turn, it tore at me. I continued to look into the mournful depth of her eyes. The longer I looked, the more I knew. The more I… Was she healing me? Making me remember?

No. You are healing yourself. Keep remembering.

And telepathic to boot. Wonderful.

Remember… I remembered. The core of my being, the catalyst. Her… a portion of her at least. What went wrong, then?

“A lot of things really.” she admitted. “There are others like us, though not with our ability. Except their awareness is a curse, not a boon. You see them all the time. Neurotics, sociopaths, politicians, history professors, others like that. “ She smiled wryly. I chuckled a little. I think she was joking, some. “They want this to end. The splitting of realities in every instant is painful beyond words to them. And in some ways, to all of us. Our souls cannot keep fragmenting this way.

Clearly understating the obvious I said, “So my act of creation did more harm…” I understood. Still, I wondered (and knew she could still hear me) about the positives. The knowledge that our decisions might have worked out for the best, the hope that our regrets did not have to be forlorn. I could see the beauty of many of the lives I had lived, and the sorrow of others. Funny, she existed in so many. Would it have been something more if only one of us existed? I sighed and looked to her again. What right had I to create others, but what right did we have to take them away?

What about the new soul? The ones who have not fragmented across time and space. What about the soul you tampered with out of ego alone?

“I did not create parallel universes. “, I glowered at her. “Besides, she would have made a decision eventually that would have caused a split… somewhere. It is a fundamental nature of the universe. Or is it? Could I… ” She sat, quietly, waiting for my own answer.

I understand.

snap

“It’s done…” I stammered, barely able to breath, to feel. I laid on my apartment floor, hardly able to move, the last of my strength fading. She was whole… I… we were whole again. But it did not matter. She looked down at me and caressed my cheek. I could see her, as she had always been, still angelic, and yet… she was fading too. We were whole and all I wanted… I could see… the light of the universe in her eyes, but all I wanted to see was her love, borne of so many lives together. Would we still… All I wanted…

“One more destination, my love.” she then kissed me with a gentle passion that reached beyond all the moments of our existence. A smile… her smile, and…

snap

Epilogue: In the Beginning…

I’ve been here before.

Not quite.

The brilliance of the universe unfolded in one chaotic, yet ordered instant. The universe was not dying, I knew that now. It was about to live... All my thoughts, my dreams, my lives faded into darkness, but within the darkness an ember burned bright. So bright… so… wonderful. Would it be right this time? Will what I have done, fade with me?

No… that’s why I’m here. That’s why I was here, mere moments ago. I laughed, if laughing were possible.

She was right, I thought, as I saw the rebirth… as my soul, my essence, became a part of what would be. I hoped… at the dawn of time I hoped for us all. She was right.

I hadn’t been here before.

C.

Alternate Lives: Awareness

Prologue: Entropy

Do you finally understand?

Such a scene overwhelmed my senses, even in their present state. So vibrant, so electric… words, even if they could, did not escape my lips. Transcendent, the only way to begin to describe this event, an event I knew would come to be, just a sure as everyone else who came before me knew. Of course, no one could ever believe there would be a witness. Honestly, I was amazed at that fact. Yet, I stood, well… drifted really, within the mesmerizing show around me. It called to me, just as I called to it. I did not know how, only that it sought something primal within, as if it knew as well I would be here. Could a consciousness exist, even now? Perhaps not a true consciousness, but more of a collective understanding… a knowledge of what was, is, and, well… would be was something of a problem that needed sorting out. Unfortunately, no time remained, or seemed to exist for that matter. I laughed internally and realized that matter itself was about to cease. Fine time for me to think of the ironies of the universe. And the universe… it lay before me, collapsing into entropy. I had read many books, articles and papers on this subject thousands upon thousands of times. Still, the event never could prepare me for the inspiring wonder of it all. I guess if I could conjure an audience I might have written about the event. Since no audience existed, I let the inspiration pass and waited… waited for the last seconds of existence to spectacularly slip away.

Only one thing plagued me in this rather calm (really not near as violent as I thought) end to all that was, er… is… How did I get here?

snap

I knew that sound, should I have even heard one.

I think it is a convention you dreamed up.

That voice… thought. I knew it as well. I let what was left of my consciousness drift to the sound. I could feel an image form in my mind, and though the universe collapsed around me, I managed to be shocked one more time.

Don’t worry… I’m not so much who you think I am.

I thought I was the only one left, the only one who could be here… at this point.

Left? Perhaps you have forgotten… or you still don’t understand.

I tried to contemplate a response, but none would come. Wait. I came here of my own accord. But why? She… yes, she… how? How, anything, really? No, I do not understand, I replied as well as I could.

You will.

Part I: Awareness

You have to remember… or be damned.

snap

I awoke with a start. Voices… dreams. All... a dream. Getting more intense though. Felt horribly real. Still dark. I looked over to the pale light of my alarm clock. Four AM. Typical. About when I have been waking up recently. I would not be able to get back to sleep, that much was certain. No rest for the sleep deprived. Oh… I noticed the book next to me. I must have been reading it, trying to take my mind off school and the paper I had to write. No wonder I was having crazy dreams. 12th Planet. Great read, but a bit out in left field… somewhere near Jupiter.

I sighed, vowing not to read any of Sitchin's books late at night, at least until the next time I did it. Disgusted, I tossed the paperback aside, and got out of bed. Even though it was still early, I turned on my computer and stared for a moment fruitlessly. I wondered if I would ever finish this latest research paper. Finish? Sure. Would it be any good? Well… I glanced at the biography of Richard I sitting by the computer. Interesting enough, but I needed more than a biography to support my conclusions. Something seemed odd about the title. I had not remembered seeing that before…

snap

Was I nodding off? My face felt like it hit the keyboard again? Damn. Never going to finish this paper. Thirty-five pages on the criticism of historiographical methods in Medieval History. I yawned thinking about it. Why wouldn’t they let me just do my research? I had enough to do without the extra... I stood up and shook the cobwebs out of my head. Felt a little… unsettled. Not enough to eat? I looked around at the squalor that was my small apartment. Hmm… leftover fries and a cheeseburger. I sniffed the burger. Still good, so I must have eaten recently. I lazily took a bite, more out of requirement than hunger. Setting the burger back down on the edge of my cluttered desk, I stumbled to the kitchen and peered into the wastes of my refrigerator, hoping not to be attacked by the leftovers before I retrieved a carbonated beverage. I succeeded, barely. What was that yellow mold on the cheese? Ew.

No time, never enough. Had to get this paper done, or I would fail this semester and lose my financial aid. Could not let that happen, for I had worked too hard to get back into school to finish my grad work. Shouldn’t have spent all that time gaming… ah, well. Not completely my fault. I was married to a gamer for a while. I sighed. Look how that turned out. I had been divorced for almost two years and she was still angry over details. Details... I was always lost in hers. Icy blue eyes... long, luxurious black hair that she occasionally dyed burgundy, and the way she moved... ah. Enough. After all that we had been through, I deserved a little anger too. Well, such was the way of things. I tried to move on... and it was working out so well. I took a drink of the soda and was thrilled to have the caffeine soon work its magic and keep me up long enough to finish. I shuffled over to my desk and sat back down, catching a glimpse of myself in the monitor’s reflection. Man, did I look that bad? I shrugged. I did not care. Nor did I want to.

A chill rolled up my spine, that feeling as if something is not quite right, but not quite wrong. It just seemed odd. I could not place it, and continued typing away while deciphering a journal’s bad French to English translation. Then the realization hit me. I was translating a journal from Latin, not French. I would swear by it. I may have been tired, not taken leave of my now rattled senses. I searched the mess that was my desk, my room and throughout my apartment, but to no avail. The journal I knew I was working on had disappeared. And the journal I had in front of me was one I had never seen before… I looked at an article in the journal. An author was examining the research of Richard the Lionheart’s latest biography, calling into question his attack on the Vexin in 1201. I dropped the journal and my heart skipped a beat. Richard I died in 1198 from a gangrenous crossbow wound at Chalus-en-Chabrol. He never attacked the Vexin, but something in the back of my mind told me it was so. As if I were remembering days that never were. But the logical part of my brain screamed what I was remembering was impossible. It had to be. No. Richard lived for ten more years and conquered the remainder of France. I muttered to myself, “C’est imposible!”

I was speaking French. I said some more words. French. I had never been able to speak French this well. English? I tried, but it sounded painful. Arrgh. Middle English. My memory reminded me that English was a dead language as much as Greek. Latin? Almost perfect. I knew the world was not right and I was becoming a part of it. I scanned the flat quickly (flat? Damn.) Everything seemed alright. The televisor was where it was supposed to be, so was the wireless. I looked over at my desk. The computation machine appeared to be in order. Even the Interweb was functioning. I decided to turn on the televisor to check the programmes. Five stations? Wait, it was a Sunday. New Bretigny United would be playing... but, what happened to the Cow...

snap

Thump!

“Ow… dammit!”, I yelped as I hit a hardwood floor. Hey, that was in English; however, I distinctly recalled my apartment not having hardwood floors. I was groggy, a bit calm, though. Nauseous? A little. That empty feeling in the pit of the stomach. Like from before… what the hell was happening? The smell... not right as well. I knew that smell. Oh God. I tried to regain my bearings and looked up from the floor. “Holy…”, I exclaimed as a not-quite clothed woman peered from over the bed at me. Waitaminute. She must have seen the abject horror in my eyes. My pulse quickened. I knew her… of course I knew her, but a long time ago. I thought… quickly. It had been that long ago. She looked so young.

“What the hell's wrong with you? Scare you off, did I?”, she inquired coyly in something of a Southern twang, somewhat amused. “You were just fine a minute ago, more than fine really.” She smiled mischievously at that, implying more than I could handle at the moment, but certainly less than I expected. I tried to say something… anything, but nothing could be formed. I was astonished, partly because of what happened between us. Nothing actually, hence my astonishment. At this moment though, she was in my… a bed, and reached out her hand to me and offered to pull me off the floor. I took that warm hand I had so longed for numerous times and stood, noticing I was a lot lighter than I should have been. I felt healthier too. It hit me.

I was younger. She was younger. But none of this happened, no matter how much I wanted it to. The woman dragged me back into the bed and lay against me, a bit forceful at that. “Now, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Um… er…”

“Not a good start.” Her tone flattened, eyes sharpening some.

“Sorry… must have hit my head or something.” I smiled sheepishly, hoping to extricate myself from this line of questioning. I did not know what was wrong, or what was right for that matter. I needed to know, though.

“Usually doesn’t happen to you in the heat of the moment." She grinned again, with the delight of a feline playing with her prey. Oh... I always wanted to be on the receiving end of that look.

“No... I suppose not." That answered one of my questions. We were a lot more than involved. Explained why I was lightheaded and a little calm. But that could be whatever was happening to me. Which was? I tried to think, but she kept looking at me and inched her way closer to my face. I could see the sparkling wonder and passion in her emerald eyes. Her breath…so warm, and she smelled like I remembered I thought she should. That made no sense. Nothing made sense. I felt her lips against mine. I did not care. For some reason, the kiss made sense, as if it were always a part of me. It was cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

I awoke in the dark, noticing it would be light soon. She was still asleep, her face buried in my chest and somewhat concealed by her long, auburn, almost red hair. I did not know what to think. My mind was reeling, but I knew… I felt… right, as I did before, as if I was remembering what should be but never was. And the longer I lay in her embrace, the more comfortable I felt. I think I was adjusting somehow. Could that be part of it? If I lingered too long, would my mind simply cease? What of the memories of… um… myself? Where is he… ah… am I? How could I get back? I looked down at her, nuzzled against me. Did I want to get back? I sighed. However wonderful this was, whatever she means to the me now… here… I felt differently. I closed my eyes and waited… for…

snap

Blue-green… skies, no... water!

That sickening feeling again, except it was enhanced by free-fall of… a wave? I felt something strike me in the head as I was thrown against the surf and smashed into the ocean floor, at least it probably was the ocean floor. The stinging in my eyes… yep, salt water. My arm hurt. Did I land on it wrong? Would it matter in a moment? I noticed I was drowning. How ignominious. I tried to surface, but was forced back under. Damn… how big was that wave?! I could feel myself waver, the blackness approaching… something… someone… grabbed me. I did not think. I hurt too much. Just as well. I needed to rest awhile.

I know you are waiting. I see you all. I want to awaken. I long to know you again, to know you for the first time. To forget the pain, to remember. I want to remember…

My cheek felt cool. A hand… brushing against me. Voices… English. Thank goodness for that at least. Odd. A bit of a drawl. I couldn’t quite make it out. No, not Texan. Almost British. Australian. It made perfect sense. I was home. Or at least where I thought home should be, where I always wanted to be. I never kept my promise to return. But I have… in this strange journey I have undertaken. Maybe I died. Sounded too easy. Besides, I hurt too much to be dead. Clichéd, but true. My head felt like something had pounded itself against it. A surfboard, maybe? My right arm was broken, I could definitely feel that. I wanted to open my eyes. I really did, yet the fear was overwhelming. I knew exactly what I would see. Not because I remembered to be so, but because I wanted it to be so. I felt her lips press against my forehead. I opened my eyes. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. All that I had lost returned to me in an instant. I knew this place as if I were born to it. The moment… the moment would last.

Ten years ago, I made a choice to leave her. It was the hardest and worst decision of my life. I had always hoped for another chance. I did not think it could ever be like this. Her smile was warm and tender and she rested her hand against mine… the good one. I sat up, checking my surroundings. As I thought… hospital. I was still a little dizzy, probably a concussion. Felt like a bad hangover, but a bit more kick. I looked to her. She was older than I remembered, but not much. I think I felt older, but it was getting hard to tell. How many times had I really done this? More than I remember? She noticed my puzzlement and asked, “Are you getting another spell? You had quite an experience.”

Her accent… something I always loved about her. I loved everything about her; every gentle curve of her flesh to the unconditional love in her heart. Strangely, she loved everything about me as well. I tried to form words, and this time I was finally capable of speaking.“Fine. More than you know. It’s so good to see you."

She looked amused. “Such a silly Texan. You see me all the time. “

“Never enough for me.” , I smiled sheepishly. She smiled back and kissed my lips gently. It… I could not describe it. Nor did I want to. “So much… I need to say.”

She kept smiling, bemused at my effort. “You hit harder than you thought. “ She leaned closer and whispered lightly in my ear. “You’ve said all you could ever need to say to me. You know that.“. I nodded. “You gave up everything to be with me. “ I continued to nod, thinking how I wished it were true. But in fact it was, and it made me ill.

“How long do I need to stay here?” I asked, trying to change the subject and assess the damage done to me.

“Not long… overnight I think. I’ll stay with you. I don’t have a lecture in the morning, so it’ll be fine.” I nodded again, wondering how far along she was with her degree. I knew, actually. The memories of this… of me, told me. But I knew another place as well. My memory. The woman as I knew her…

In the world I remembered, she did get her degree eventually but we did not speak of it. We drifted apart as long distance lovers often do. It would not last. I pushed away, wanting to wallow in self-pity, not caring for what I had done, nor for her. My life continued in the direction I wanted it to, for good or ill, and I heard nothing from the distant land I wanted to call home. I heard nothing from her, not for some time. We did speak again… had it only been a few months since we spoke? It must have been. She had gotten married, finished her degree and was happy. She had a daughter as I recalled. The conversation was pleasant enough. I apologized for what I had done, but she had forgiven me long ago and did not want to talk of such things. Instead, we chatted idly in the realm of small talk and did not concern ourselves with deeper things. She invited me to see her when I was in Australia next. I chuckled, wondering how long that would be.

“Something wrong?” she asked. Oh… I must have chuckled without saying anything. It happens when I get lost in thought.

“No… just reminiscing.”

“Of what?” she queried.

“Us… “

I looked to her and gazed into her soulful brown eyes. I wanted to stay there in that instant. She could see I wanted to say something. It hurt, but it was what had to be done. Something… deeper was telling me. Time. Fine… “You need to know how much I love you… that I will always love you. “ I stammered it out, trying not to break down. At least I had this… at least in this place, what was meant to be… would be. It was an odd sensation, being drawn away. I saw her… saw the confusion, and in one brief second… understanding.

snap

You must awaken. You must know. I want to be aware. But it must be yours.

Hot! Plate. Almost burned myself. Now this setting was familiar. I knew… almost instantly it seemed. I tried to discern why but I had other matters to attend to, most importantly trying not to burn dinner for a bunch of hungry people. Odd… I never wanted to come back here… of all places. I looked from the kitchen, into the den. They were all sitting around, laughing at some snide comment or joke. All of them. Those I left behind with a purpose. And the one who I felt left me… I heard her coming down the hall. Had I moved in time? Before, it seemed place was more a factor. Was time more an issue now? She stepped in front of me… startling me, batting her icy blue eyes at me in delight, knowing she had gotten the better of me. It was something she liked to do. I smirked and tried to hide my sense of disgust. I left joy and returned to banality. It was not that I did not care… far from it, but the laughter, the words, her movements. A reminder of something all too painful, and too recent.

And yet, something felt out of place. Not quite right. I excused myself quickly and left her with the kitchen details. She simply shrugged and took over. She enjoyed cooking to an extent. I stumbled down the hall and examined the bedrooms. Ours… ours was still there, messy and much like I remembered. Roommates? Yes… one… two… wait. The other girl. I wondered about that and checked what should be this woman’s room. Empty… well, a storage room. I stepped back into the kitchen and casually mentioned our roommate’s name. She looked at me oddly, puzzled in fact. She did not know what I was talking about. I nodded and apologized. I told her I was channeling some other life. Ironically, it was actually true this time.

Her best friend, at least the best friend that I knew of was not here. They never met, or she never existed. Either way, she was not a part of her… our lives. In a way, I was saddened. In another, I was relieved. Things between she and I were always... strained at best. I turned and asked another foolish question I realized I had the answer to. “What year is this?”

She pulled back her long, black hair trying to keep it out of the food while looking at me as if I were lost. “What do you mean by that?”

“Could you answer the question?” I asked. She was getting irritated. Great, I knew what that meant, or did I? She answered, and it did not surprise me. It was almost the present. I began to understand this place. The deviation was slim, but enough to keep us together. Was that the price for our happiness? Her best friend not even a memory. Well, I did not like her that much… but I was feeling guilty at any rate. I did not understand why, especially since I deserved a little happiness. Plenty of people got to be happy at my expense throughout my life, why not me?

“Why not me…” I muttered, just enough for her to hear.

“Why not you what?” she asked, a little concern in her voice. She stepped away from the stove and closer to me.

“I’m not sure you’d understand… really. I don’t myself.”

“We’ve been over this before. You can tell me anything, especially if you are having issues again with… “

“Trust me…that’s not it. “ I interjected quickly. It had nothing to do with our past issues, sort of. “I…”

“What, then?” she asked quietly.

I looked at her and saw… a glimmer of… tomorrow. I saw us, but not us. I kept looking into her and within her soul. The soul I always knew. I saw the person I shared so much with and cared for so long. I felt… awareness as if it was tangible and I could grasp it. I instead grasped her lightly and she looked into me.

“I remember…”

The core of her being remembered with me. All that I had seen, all that I had known, all that I would be was hers. Regardless of the pain we had caused each other, we always had a bond that I could not understand. Was this it? What was she? Time melted into a place without barriers, a world I understood… what I had given up to become.

We could not speak. We did not need to. I simply kissed her good-bye.

snap

My backpack felt light. I felt light. I wandered the cavernous halls of the College, looking for the right room, even though it would be were it should. Still, I did my best to remember only what I needed, lest I be overwhelmed. The students paid me little heed, and some gave me some deference due to my age. In truth, I looked about as young as I did so many years ago when… well, when all that business occurred. In reality, I did not know, nor want to know how old I was. I suppose I could figure it out, but I had better things to do. Classes were starting to let out and I fought through the crowds scurrying to where they needed to be. I smiled, wishing I could impart to them… anything. But what would it change? I laughed aloud at the answer.

305… the lecture letting out. I leaned inside the doorway as the students continued to filter past. I nodded politely to them and they continued on their way. A few stopped to ask questions of the lecturer and she answered to the best of her knowledge. She did not see me, and turned to erase some notes on Chaucer from the board. She struggled a little, but she was getting older. Closer to 50, I thought. Her hair was still black, not dyeing it burgundy anymore it seemed. Did it really matter? The answer, as always, amused me.

“Excuse me, Professor…” I said in my worst impression of my old Texas accent. “Ah’m lookin’ for this here history department in this dang fancy College. “ She paused for a moment, then answered.

“That’s another college. Which history department, anyway?”

“Medieval, of course”, I said in my normal, flat accent. She turned quickly, not really surprised, but pleased.

We stood for a moment, not quite sure what to say. I walked into the lecture hall and reached out to her. We held each other for awhile, and I could feel her tears against my cheek. “I really wondered... if you would ever show. “, she said quietly.

“I know this sounds odd, but I got lost. “

“Oxford is confusing… oh… that kind of lost.”

She laughed, and leaned up to kiss my cheek. I smiled and kissed her back.“Yeah. I’d love to tell you about it after I get settled in. Maybe over some dinner?”

“Sure. Just call my office and we’ll set it up.”, she said. I started to agree, then decided.

“Come to think of it, I’m settled now. Shall we?” I outstretched my hand to her. She took it and we exited the lecture hall, talking of our fantastic days together, nights apart and the times in-between. She asked of my travels and the wonders I had encountered. I considered for a moment, then said, “Better I show you… “

Her eyes widened, and with a grin I…

snap

To be continued in tomorrow's post.

C.

Oblivion

For all the mean game I talk about writing, I have not posted anything (fictional at least) other than my poems. Admittedly, scripts would be difficult to post as would my longer stories, unless I broke them up (which is certainly a possibility in the future). But for today, I leave you with a short-short piece of fan fiction from my favorite sci-fi show (and my only piece of fan fiction), Babylon 5. For those that know the story, it is pretty obvious where and when it takes place, and is sort of a combined perspective from the episode and one of the novels (The Technomage Trilogy). It is a little more internalised, which is harder to get in TV and certainly a departure from what I have normally written. For those that do not know the story, I admit it really does not stand on its own as it takes a fragment of the end of the third season episode 'Z'Ha'Dum' and expands upon it, if one calls something this short expansion :)

'Oblivion'

He finally understood…

If you go to Z’Ha’Dum, you will die.

John knew the price, standing above the chasm, the Enemy behind him, calling his name. The Enemy, his wife, but not his wife. A monster, pulled from one of those Ships… a shell of the woman she was. They told her what to say, and the lie was almost convincing… almost. The Enemy closed around him, behind her, their glowing eyes, yearning for him to join them. Join… the Shadows. They asked him to turn his back on everything. His family, friends, his duty, her… the woman that Anna was, and the one, now… racing in his mind. He only wanted to be with her, but that would not be. They would kill him, and Kosh, as usual, would be right.

Damn them… If I’m going to die, then you bastards are going to hell with me.

He sent the signal…

It would be over in a moment, not that the Shadows would know. Not that he would feel. An instant of destruction, and the war… would it end? What would his sacrifice be worth? Enough to save Babylon 5? Surely the Shadows and their terrible vessels would be poised to strike, for John refused to join the Enemy. They would destroy the station and all he held dear. At least the Enemy would feel this sting.

They continued to close on him, though one of the creatures had stopped, occupied for some reason. Then it fell, and John could not understand why. He thought he saw a.... no, it did not matter. He saw her face, smiling, but her countenance betraying the control of her masters. She would kill him herself if she could. He knew he could stop her, but no matter what she had become, John could never kill Anna. He glanced skyward. At least... not face to face.

Any second now.

Another Shadow fell from behind Anna. Again, he thought he should have been confused, his tactician’s brain telling him something… someone else was at work. Unfortunately, his human instinct told him the end would soon render the thought moot.

He turned away from her and stared into the abyss…

Jump…

What… that voice. Piercing into his soul, but from where? How? Impossible. He had held the remnants of the encounter suit in his hands, even spoken to him before he passed. Kosh perished so that the fledgling Alliance would survive, ordering a strike against the Shadows at the cost of his own life.

He glanced into the darkness. It tore at him, but called to him somehow. Still, he was afraid. She advanced toward him, begging him to reconsider. He tried to blot her voice out, but he had loved her so. No, not her. A monster, created by them… the Enemy. His link beeped. The White Star was coming.

Jump… Now!

He jumped…

John felt the voice leap at him, literally drawing him over the ledge and into the darkness. Anna’s voice faded, and he said his final goodbyes. The chasm looked like it would not end, and continued to speak to him, in His voice somehow. Above, the world sounded as if it shattered. Screams… no. The White Star… its engines howling, preparing to unleash the thermonuclear fury contained within. Though fear encircled him, John forced a smile. He almost wanted to see it happen, but imagining was enough, and the reality would consume him all too soon.

Or would it?

He welcomed the abyss…

The voice fell silent. Only the darkness remained. He could not even hear what he thought he might. He must have been too close, destroyed in an instant. Or was he? Images raced through his mind… images of yesterday, the present, tomorrow… even if tomorrow would not be. He saw her… all that he knew, could hold on to, in the descent into the beyond.

Delenn…

Oblivion claimed John in the abyss beneath Z’Ha’Dum.

C.

Early Thursday Thirteen

Since I have another long entry to do tonight/tomorrow and a lot to do on the holiday, I though I would add my Thanksgiving posts tonight, a couple of hours before it is actually Thanksgiving. I would say it is Thanksgiving somewhere now, but that is not the case as in saying it is Christmas now, or New Year's now when celebrating those days early. Anyway, I promised I would do another sci-fi comparison in my edition this week: Instead of messing with 'Star Trek' or 'Babylon 5', I will lay out reasons why the new version of Battlestar Galactica is better than the old one. Of course, I have one big reason going the other way, but that is a matter for another time.

1) A more coherent plot and a less campy plot (though I could appreciate some of the campiness and oddness of the first series)
2) Better looking... and not just the Cylon women. I refer to production design and overall look of the series. I would comment on special effects, but that is not really fair, though I like the use of ballistic weaponry over energy weapons... gives it a grittier feel.
3) Writing... there is some excellent writing on the show, far superior to the original, and to most shows on TV.
4) Edward James Olmos as Adama. While I loved Lorne Greene as an actor, I think Olmos' Adama has more of an edge than the mostly paternal Greene version.
5) Baltar. This Baltar is more sniveling than John Colicos' original Baltar, but I really love his acting, especially in the first season delusional phase.
6) The Cylon plotlines in general. The Cylons are craftier, meaner, and crueler than before, not just a foil on the way to Earth. And they don't even think they are evil, which is quite cool.
7) Music. Ok, I loved the old Galactica theme, and the music from the movie/pilot, but the music in the new version is dead on with the tone of the series, really almost perfect.
8) Mature themes. The new BSG tackles more mature themes, mostly because TV and sci fi has changed. Originally, BSG was meant to be a TV version of Star Wars, with similar effects and scope. The new BSG is more realistic in scope when it comes to dealing with thematic elements.
9) Richard Hatch being in both versions... now only if they could get the real Starbuck back :)
10) Darkness. The new BSG catalogues the Cylons and the Humans descent into physical and metaphysical darkness so well, better than most shows do, and something the old series would never have attempted.
11) Cinematography. The way the series is shot, also a testament to the times, of course, is fantastic. It puts one right into the action, though I do tire of the flashback episodes (overused by far too many directors)
12) Boomer/Sharon. While I loved the old Boomer, this gender reversal role I really liked... yes, not a fan of the female Starbuck. Bring back Dirk Benedict.
13) Battlestar 1980: I doubt we'll see this again.

As before, this is certainly as tongue in cheek as my previous Thursday Thirteen, for I do enjoy elements of both series as much as I enjoyed 'B5' and the 'Star Trek' series. Ok, debate away and eat a bunch of turkey while doing so :)

C.

The 100

Sorry, no room for another 4300 :) (little joke for those who have seen The 4400)

As seems commonplace on blogs and other mediums, (I did something similar in my old journal) I have decided to give my many fans (crickets chirping in the distance) a number of things about me that are completely unremarkable but possibly interesting for those that find such things interesting. I have to admit I am a fan of such lists, so I give you such a list. Since 100 or so seems to be the appropriate number, (I suppose I could have waited to my 100th post, but I decided to get this out of the way) here are 100 things you should or should not know about me.

1. I'm left-handed (for the most part)
2. I have horrible handwriting, even when printing. You don't want to see my cursive (I haven't written in cursive in I don't know how long)
3. The first football game I remember is Super Bowl X (Dallas-Pittsburgh, 1976)
4. Reportedly, my third and fourth words were 'Go Cowboys!'.
5. The first movie I remember seeing was 'Star Wars', though I think my parents took me to see both 'The Muppet Movie' and 'Rocky' before that.
6. The first movie that gave me nightmares was 'Alien' (I was 6).
7. My favorite movie of all time is 'The Empire Strikes Back.'
8. My favorite book of all time is 'The Stand' by Stephen King, followed closely by 'The Guns of the South' by Harry Turtledove.
9. My favorite non-fiction book is 'In the Wake of the Plague: The Black Death and the World it Made' by Norman F. Cantor
10. Though I love medieval history, I am really unfocused, studying plague history, religious history (both of which do crossover into medieval, true), and military history.
11. I have a minor in Space Science and were I not math-illiterate, I would have gone into the sciences.
12. I love maps (which translated into a Geography minor).
13. I enjoy politics, but never had the stomach to get into it, aside from a term in the Student Senate in college.
14. I have been behind the Iron Curtain, but just barely, mere months before it all collapsed.
15. The best museum I have ever been to is the Hermitage in what was then Leningrad (I've never been to Paris, so I can't say the Louvre, regardless of reputation).
16. I have never been to Western Europe (unless you count 2 days in Finland to wind up my trip to Eastern Europe).
17. I have traveled to and/or through every state in the contiguous USA except Kentucky and Maine.
18. Though there was a great deal of anti-American sentiment the second time I was there, a part of my heart will always belong in Australia.
19. My ideal retirement spot is a stretch of coastline in South-West Australia.
20. I have spent almost three consecutive days on a train. (the India-Pacific between Sydney and Perth)
21. I have had my car searched for drugs at a Canadian border crossing (they thought I was smuggling pot from Mexico because of my Texas plates).
22. I have difficulty with the smell of tobacco (maybe a mild allergy perhaps).
23. I've lived in my car.
24. I waited tables for almost 2 years.
25. I have a fondness for theater, having acted, directed, produced and pretty much did everything at one point except costume design.
26. Before I sold anime stuff, I helped my family sell sports cards.
27. I was married for about 5 years once.
28. I've now been divorced for about 5 years.
29. I prefer the term 'certified pre-owned'. Sounds more official.
30. I taught myself to read at age 3 (thank you Sesame Street)
31. I didn't write my first short story or poem until I was 17.
32. I won an award (the National Association of Children's Bookwriters or something like that) for my first short story... which looking back, wasn't all that good.
33. I am my worst critic, as most writers are.
34. I don't like to use the word 'believe' or 'belief'. To me it is the first step to fanaticism. I would rather use the word 'think' or 'thought'.
35. I grew up Independent Baptist (hence my views on 'belief').
36. My favorite television show is still 'Babylon 5'.
37. Growing up, my favorite show was 'Star Trek', old and TNG.
38. I love roleplaying games and used to game constantly.
39. My favorite song of all time is 'Piano Man' by Billy Joel.
40. My second favorite song is 'Blue Eyes' by Elton John.
41. I have seen them both in concert separately and together.
42. I wish I could have seen Johnny Cash in concert.
43. My favorite concert is easily Billy Joel/Elton John (at Texas Stadium, April 1995).
44. My favorite musical/play is 'Phantom of the Opera'.
45. I love quotations.
46. I grew up a giant comic fan, and still read them now and then.
47. My favorite comic story is 'Batman: The Dark Knight Returns' by Frank Miller.
48. I still prefer Superman over Batman, but only slightly.
49. My favorite roleplaying game is 'Star Wars' (shocking, I know)
50. I have been roleplaying (though mostly game mastering) for almost 20 years now. 2007 will mark my 20th year.
51. My favorite non-Star Wars/Lord of the Rings movie is 'Almost Famous' (I prefer the Director's cut called 'Untitled'.
52. My favorite album (what not a favorite MP3 playlist?... what is this word, album?) is 'American IV: The Man Comes Around' by Johnny Cash.
53. I am both a cat and dog person.
54. I have owned more cats and dogs than I can count.
55. Cats, even strays, like to hang around me.
56. I am considered depressed, but not bi-polar.
57. I have a large number of siblings, and the oldest.
58. I lead a very parenthetical life (really, it's true).
59. I used to fence, preferring foil and sabre over epee.
60. If I had a philosophy, I think it would be deistic multi-dimensional reincarnationist. It worked from the Minbari (from 'Babylon 5'), though deism is more 18th century Enlightenment than late 20th century science fiction.
61. I understand the difference between the Jesus of history and the Jesus of faith.
62. While I feel we soften words too much and argue about semantics, I am still far too diplomatic for my own good.
63. That being said, I have found it hard to be diplomatic when it counted most.
64. If I could drop everything and go 'Out There' (out there being space and beyond), I would.
65. While I prefer the Jedi Code, the Sith dress better (and I prefer darker colors myself).
66. I wear sandals whenever I can, meaning I've worn socks twice in the past 2 calendar years (which you can do in Texas, even in winter).
67. The last time I wore tennis shoes regularly was on my last trip to Australia. Unless you are on a beach, it is really, really hard to hike in sandals.
68. I hate wearing blue jeans... shorts and slacks (usually khakis) for me.
69. Even though I love Australia and grew up in the D/FW area, I despise the heat.
70. I much prefer the cold, even if it means I might have to put on socks.
71. My eyes sometimes change color, but they are mostly blue (usually a light blue, but sometimes dark, sometimes a dark green, occasionally gray).
72. I lettered in varsity basketball in high school.
73. I have had three excruciating surgeries, two of them neurosurgeries.
74. The first neurosurgery saved my life. The second replaced the right half of my forehead with plastic (this happened over 20 years ago, when I was 10).
75. Because of said surgeries, I have failed three military physicals, the only thing that ever kept me from serving my country (though it was a near thing the last time).
76. It also kept me from playing football.
77. 'The Imperial March' is one of the great instrumental themes of all time.
78. I have had season tickets twice to the Cowboys and three times to the Rangers, all in years they stunk.
79. And I gave up my seats the day Nolan Ryan pitched his last no-hitter so my brother could go to the game.
80. No matter how many times I hear it, the words, 'No Luke, I am your father', still sends chills up my spine.
81. I prefer the Bob Seger version of 'Turn the Page' over Metallica's version.
82. I agree with Dilbert in that when something like the Holodeck is available, civilization as we know it will end (if it doesn't before then).
83. Perhaps the best poem I've ever written is my least favorite to read... a piece I wrote on the 5th anniversary of my eldest brother's death.
84. I still have trouble talking to my Mom and my sisters about it, mostly for their sake.
85. I always wanted to be on 'Jeopardy'.
86. Though I love writing, I am not a very disciplined writer. Perhaps that is why I write so much poetry.
87. I have serious trouble rhyming.
88. While I love music, I cannot sing, except as part of a choral group.
89. My favorite comic strip was the always funny 'Bloom County'.
90. It's the one with Opus the Penguin.
91. While I enjoy the history of languages, I cannot, for the life of me, learn them. I am better at reading them, and even that is marginal.
92. I prefer a nice cabernet over white, perhaps a bottle of rose instead, but only at Italian restaurants :)
93. I love westerns and war movies, and most any historical movie. I tend to see them regardless of reviews.
94. My favorite westerns are 'Dances With Wolves' and 'The Outlaw Josey Wales'.
95. My favorite war films are 'Glory' and 'We Were Soldiers', though the first half of 'Full Metal Jacket' is phenomenal.
96. Arthur C. Clarke and Isaac Asimov were two of my big influences growing up, though my dad tried to steer me to Jack Vance.
97. Most days, I would rather have a nice conversation.
98. My mom always told me I could always 'catch more flies with honey than vinegar'.
99. Even if it annoys them, I always hold the door open for women (assuming I get to it in time). Simply the way I was raised.
100. I can't be anything more than I am at this moment, even if I do look to the future too much.

Well, this should cover it. Anything else I will probably get to eventually, or just ask. I might even give an answer that makes sense. :)

C.