A Second Link For You

The second part of what goes on in my mind. Some of my people hadn't come home yet, yesterday. I think they're all home now.

Click the picture to get to my livejournal. :)

A Link for You

750words.com has proven to be a very interesting and helpful community for me. If nothing else, the dubious reward of a "badge" serves to motivate me to get those 750 written everyday.

Today's post turned out very interestingly and I wanted to share. It's at my livejournal, since it's a little more personal and not as nicely edited, but I am including the link in the event someone who follows this is intrigued by the "inner workings of my mind".  Heh.

Click the picture to get to the post.  The pic's kinda relevant, I promise.  :)

Obligatory Christmas Post

Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I, for one, am thrilled.  Coming from a Cuban family, Noche Buena, the Night Before Christmas and all through the house is traditionally a bigger celebration than The Day itself.  Living in Miami, it's pretty well understood that the 24th is the night everyone's going to be cooking an entire pig in a box in their backyard (or a pit, if they're really traditional).  You cannot argue with the awesome that is this way of cooking pig:

Yum. And the skin is so delicious.

There will be family getting together and probably someone drinking too much and jumping in a pool. There will be Too Much Food and stories of other 24ths passed in just this way.  It's a night to be with family, enjoy some good food, and just Be for a culture that didn't have Thanksgiving until we came to the 'states.

My church insists on having a Christmas Eve service every year at 6 pm and every year they ask me and my mom (part of the choir) if we'll be singing.  And every year we tell them "no, it's noche buena."  Americans. Am I right?  :)

But even though Noche Buena has some of the best food of all time I'm sorry Thanksgiving, and I'm gonna let you finish it's always been about family and love and laughter first and foremost.

Arguably, the entirety of the Christmas season is about this: getting back to our roots and remembering the people we love who love us.  But for me, there's an entire other element that I cannot remove from the celebration of the holiday.

I'm speaking, of course, of Jesus.  I am a practicing, believing, and happy Christian, and it is impossible for me to remove the story of the Nativity from my understanding of this season.  Which is why articles like the one I read today just tick me off a little.  Quoting the American Atheist's website, CNN journalist Katie Glaeser says that "“Christians don’t deserve a monopoly on holiday cheer,"" and "It turns out that traditions associated with Christmas have morphed into social norms adopted even among nonbelievers." 

At the risk of sounding like a crazy person, I am not, in any way, going to even insinuate that I don't think anyone who wants to is allowed to celebrate Christmas.  Sheesh, what a silly thing to say.  The holiday is celebrated with love and laughter and being with family and no one has a monopoly on that.  

What I am willing to comment on is the erroneous belief Atheists seem to hold where they make sweeping generalizations about Christians and what we think in the same way we supposedly make generalizations about them.

The comments for this article seem to be pretty well-mixed between Christians attempting to defend their right to the holiday and atheists jumping on the "Religion is a crock and you're an idiot if you believe it" boat.  (not all atheists do this, just like not all Christians send all caps GOD LOVES YOU replies to everything)

So. Some quick tidying up so we can all get back to our eggnog:

1. "Christ was born during this time. While there is a debate about whether the 25th was the actual date, no one debates it was called Christ-mas to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ of Nazareth"

A: False.  Due to all the shepherds wandering all over the place and the whole thing with the census, Jesus being born on December 25th is pretty much an invention of some incarnation of the early church.  However.  Like pretty much everything else in Christianity (I'm going purely off protestantism here, since it's the branch I pertain to) it is an accepted and beloved symbol of something great.

Well-informed Christians pretty much all agree that the early church took over the old festival of Saturnalia to keep their most recent converts happy with a mid-winter celebration.  Most of our Christmas traditions stem from here. The evergreen tree, lights all over, gifts, the day...all old Saturnalia stuff.

Hug it. Squeeze it. Call it George.

Like the Lord's Supper, Christ's birth being celebrated in mid-winter serves as a reminder of the things we believe.  It's a time to talk about the Nativity, remember the miracle of the virgin birth, and go back to where it all started, something we tend to forget during our normal-year sermons.

2. "“Exchanging gifts and donating to charity are not religious statements but more of a chance to stop and show people you care.”

A: Great. Go ahead.  I will not stop anyone from donating or doing what they like during the holiday season.  But. An understanding of where the Christians are coming from here would be nice.  We use this time to remember the birth and subsequent life of Someone who came to Earth with the express purpose of saving us (humans) from our sins.  Grateful doesn't even begin to cover it.  And with most of Jesus' teachings centering on how we should provide for and love our fellow man regardless of who what where they are, Christmas (symbol that it is...we went over that) is a time where we remember this and act accordingly.

So while I think it's fine that people feel the holiday is a time for spreading good cheer regardless of their beliefs, there has to be an understanding of why we as Christians espouse the season as we do.  July the 4th, for example, isn't the only time we remember our troops or how much we love our country, but it's a day set aside for doing it.  So it is with Christmas as per the Christian tradition.

3. "How arrogant and passive aggressive is that pastor for assuming that putting up a tree and leaving cookies for Santa is "embracing" Christ? Clever marketing may have the common man trained to refer to the holidays as "Christmas" but informed people see through it and realize that the Winter Solstice gimmick is not owned by any one religion; yet we see blowhards over and over again trying to make it true with their army of ignorant lemmings spreading the word and rallying under the threat of the "attack" on their "beliefs"."

A: I am not a lemming. kthxbai

Peace, love, and joy to you all. Goodwill towards men. 

Merry Christmas, Internets.  Love you.

Three Word Wednesday

educate, object, silence


"We are a people prone to silence," the mayor said, grasping the sides of the podium.  His grip was white, his fingers tapping against the edge of the wood.  He did not need a microphone. The throng of people, young and old, that curved in a graceful half-moon around the wooden dais were silent, not even a rustle of clothes accounting for their numbers.


"A people prone to silence," the mayor said again, clutching at the tie at his throat. It was too tight of a sudden. Sweat dripped against the wood, falling from his forehead.  The crowd watched dispassionately, quietly assessing.  The mayor gasped and removed his tie with one convulsive twist of his hand.


"You have failed us, Mayor Sorren," came a quiet voice from the center of the crowd.  It could have been the voice of the crowd, for all that one person could be distinguished from the mass.  No one moved, no one appeared to have spoken.


"You said you were going to educate us, Mayor Sorren. To raise us up from the shackles of illiteracy and drudgery."  Another voice, another corner of the crowd.  Mayor Sorren glanced frantically from face to face of the gathered. No one had moved.


"You gifted us with books, you opened our roofs to the skies."


"You taught us arithmetic, you showed us how to streamline our lives, our processes."


Mayor Sorren opened the top two buttons on his shirt, pulling at his collar, mopping at the profusion of sweat with his sleeves.  The crowd advanced as one. One step forward so the front row and their unmoving stare was pressed against the edge of the dais.


"And now," the crowd said, hundreds of voices lifted as one, "Now you forbid us from leaving, from spreading the wings you bestowed upon us and sharing our knowledge with the rest of the world."


Mayor Sorren took a step back, shaking his head, holding his hands out in front of him.


"No," he stammered.  "No, not that, never that. We are a silent people! An enigma! A myth!"


The crowd's anger shook the boards of the dais and Mayor Sorren staggered.  


"No, Mayor Sorren.  We are a hungry people."


Mayor Sorren's scream was cut off before it could fully escape his body. The crowd dispersed within a few minutes. Silent, moving statues.  


What was left of the mayor was merely an object. A hand raised in supplication, a sheen of sweat. One button that settled against an edge in the wood.

Tron: Legacy - A Review (Or - All Light Bikes, All the Time)

Saw Tron: Legacy last night with 4/5ths of the Guild.  It was really fun and I like seeing my guys on a personal basis as opposed to just listening to them through the headphones as we beat up on pigs and dead things and Scarlet Monastarians.  (No. Monastarians isn't a word, apparently. But I will turn your attention to my being a WORDSMITH. I wrote it in ALL CAPS. It's TRUE)

The thing about this movie is that, like James Cameron's Avatar, it is all about the special effects and the glowy light cape and the awesome light bike scenes.  This Tron is what I erroneously remember the first one being: All Light Bikes, All the Time.  And also some really awesome Frisbee games.  I want to watch a game of Ultimate with the stakes that high some day.  Because damn, that'd be awesome.

Like Avatar, Tron 2.0 isn't that badly affected by the fact that it's essentially just an excuse to watch shiny, pretty things move wonderfully realistically across the screen.  The original movie was all about the special effects, too.  What I cannot do, however, is decide if this negatively impacts the movie.

I knew going into it that I wasn't going to see a work of High Art (I'm going to go see Black Swan for that...what?) and maybe it's just my 21st century talking, but I was expecting a little more plot-wise.

Let me take a minute to summarize for you (Spoilers ahead! Forewarned is forearmed).

The movie starts in 1989 with adorable jewfro!Sam listening to his dad, Jeff Bridges reprising his role, tell him stories about The Grid and all the awesome stuff he does there.  There're some nice shout-outs to the original throughout, and the first few happen in little!Sam's room as we see the original poster (or something that looks a lot like it) hanging next to his bed, little light-cycles, action figures of some of the programs... It's nice and (I thought) tastefully done. Jeff Bridges leaves for the night.  He's had a break-through in his research, he says, and he has to go work on it right then. (As the CEO of what looks to be a Fortune 500 company, I don't understand his night shift, but I guess super secret Grid work must be done at super secret o-dark-thirty. Or something).  Anyhoo, Bridges rides away on his motorcycle (sans helmet!) and is never seen again.

Cut to some good looking guy on a Ducati, weaving through traffic (wearing a helmet) and dropping off expressways with his lights off in order to go...to the ENCOM tower...?  Oh! It's Sam! All growed up! (and a hunk...)

{If shameless expressions of love for well built men unnerve you, please feel free to skip ahead. I won't judge}

(I don't know who that kid is who played Sam Flynn but my goodness I spent the whole movie watching him move and thinking to myself, "Why can't I find one like that?"

Exhibit A:

So. Good. Looking.  And pretty much everything I love in a guy: cute, nice shoulders (homg the shoulders and back...that one scene where he took off his shirt and you could see the bruise from where he B.A.S.E. jumped off the EMCOM tower? ...I'll be in my bunk...) great smile, dimples, sense of humor, geeky appreciation for technology, physical, prone to doing crazy stuff.  And I will be adding "drives a Ducati" to all future lists of boys I want to marry.  Because that is one damn fine bike.  Seriously. Damn.)

*clears throat*

Anyhoo, off of the subject of the unbearably gorgeous Sam Flynn and back to the plot!

So Sam ninjas into the ENCOM building while they're having a super secret Board Meeting (again...at night... although this makes sense I guess since it turns out their stock is about to go live in Japan) and replaces their brand new OS with a lolcat video of his dog.  He then uploads the brand spanking new operating system to the Interwebs and distributes it for free! What insanity! What a crazy plot against the well-being of the company he holds a ton of stock in! What... a great expression of his dad's original vision of cloud computing and a free digital realm...?

...oh. I see what you did there, Tron: Legacy... (please to be speaking to the FCC though? They are confused)

Sam then proceeds to BASE jump off the tower and rides home to his apartment (which is like 3 shipping crates stacked on top of each other and it's awesome and I want it).

This is the view from the back. I think if you click, it'll be bigger.

There he sees Alan (Alan! you remember Alan from the first Tron? He was Tron...) his dad's best friend who was apparently a surrogate father for Sam while Jeff Bridges was...away... Alan says he was paged from Flynn's (the old arcade) and it must be Sam's dad.  Sam is confused as to why Alan is still carrying a pager when he can hack into ENCOM with his phone.  But after some hemming and hawing, he heads off for the old arcade.

Lo! It was a page from the old arcade! Sam traipses down through the secret passage behind the old TRON arcade box (of course he does) and finds his dad's super secret lab.  This is where he went, apparently, that night he never came home. And for some reason that giant laser from the first movie is still around and yea, Sam is sucked into the Grid (sadly without the green light and the dot matrix printer noise).

The Grid is so much sexier this time around, dang. Everything is all these glowy little diodes and the suits are flattering and it looks like a city with streets and everything and Sam really stands out in his awesome leather jacket and pants.  So it's really no wonder those tower things come down and totally take him away.

The action really kicks in after he is swooshed off (oh runaway program that he's seen as) and we get to watch a seriously kick-ass version of the Games from the original Tron. This is how I remember the first movie - Ultimate (Deadly) Frisbee fights that look like jai-alai but more awesome and glowy. The system is very cool and full of spinning cubes that house the competition and a "who vs. who" board floating in the middle of the playing field. Everything is so pretty to look at.

The best part is the light-cycles though.  After being outed as a User (by bleeding when cut by Tron Rimzler), Sam is sent to die in the Light Cycle tourney.  Which is really an excuse for moar pretty.  The designers and animators really outdid themselves here.  I mean, look at this bad ass piece of machinery and tell me you don't want one:

So The Stig (see below) and his team of "evil programs" take on Sam and the other unlucky "nice" programs in a battle of light bikes.

Look at The Stig and tell me you're not reminded...

The Big Bad Boss is CLU - the evil version of Jeff Bridges that is now in charge of The Grid. And he wants Sam annihilated because he knows that once Users get all up in the Grid's workings, it will no longer be Perfect (remember this, it will be important later).  Sam is emotionally shaken by seeing his not-dad, but kicks butt at the light-cycle joust. For a little while, at least.

Here's where the plot starts to get...interesting?  I want to say "convoluted" but I also don't want to dump on this film because I really did like it a lot.  Sam escapes with the help of Quorra, the hot girl program who is really awesome.  She takes him "off-grid" (I laughed, come on) and there he sees... Real!Jeff Bridges who looks old as opposed to the (sometimes) Uncanny Valley-ness of CLU's Young!Jeff Bridges face.

But Sam's dad, after embracing his son and tearing up a little, explains that he is going the Zen route and has chosen to make inaction his choice of action. This does not sit well with his BASE-jumping son who just wants to fetch his dad and go home. Preferably in a really action-y sequence where stuff explodes.

What follows is really neat and leads up to the ultimate showdown between CLU and Kevin Flynn, a meeting that Quorra says early on-ish will destroy them both should it happen. (Oh come on. That's not even foreshadowing, that's portending!)  There is a quest to find a way out of the city, a betrayal, a really neat scene in a club where Daft Punk make a cameo, and a barkeep who acts like Ziggy Stardust in all the best possible ways. 

Plus his name is Castor. How cool is that?

There are flashbacks to Kevin Flynn's original time in the Grid throughout the film which are neat (although I could have done without the fuzzy green edges {I know it's a flashback guys...come on}) and reveal that CLU is just doing what he was programmed to do: create the Perfect system.  And with some heavy-handed spoon-feeding, it is revealed that there is no Perfect System.

There's also some plot point involving Quorra and her position as the last of the...I always call them Isotopes...it's not that...it's...some "computer word" with an I.  They're the pure creations of the machine - they evolved from the Grid (or something) and so aren't limited by either the failings of programs or humans.  All the perfection of a computer, all of the ingenuity of a human.  They're what Kevin Flynn disappeared at the beginning of the movie looking for.  But CLU genocides them because they aren't in keeping with the perfectness of the Grid.  Except Quorra. Cause Jeff Bridges saves her...

Look. It's not that I didn't like the plot. I did.  And it was a vast improvement over the first one in that it actually had something that looks a lot like a plot.  But I know they were trying to say something about religion here and it really wasn't necessary. Or, I guess if you're going to say something about religion, try not to whap me over the head with it because seriously. I know Olivia Wilde said that she based Quorra off of Joan of Arc, and I get it.  Actually, I think that saved her characterization for me, knowing that.  She's full of devotion to her master and sword skills and, given her position as a more evolved life form, she has a better connection to the Users, I guess.  I can respect that. (Plus, Joan of Arc? I love her. Mad props.)

But once you start slinging around devoted acolytes and zen-masters I start expecting you to jump up to the next level of story-telling.  There's an entire sub plot where it's revealed that Kevin Flynn has been training Quorra and part of that training is the ability to "remove yourself from the equation" which is all well and good, but you can't throw something that big out there without backing it up with more solid story-telling. Programs are all about the equation! And even if Quorra is Programus novus, we don't get enough information on how that impacts her decision making to be able to really feel the turmoil that should be inherent in her choices.

I wanted to jump off the deep end with these characters and really get into the motivations behind their actions.  After all, it feels like 2.0 was trying to say something about programming as well as "programming" and the nature of technology in our world. The vague allusions to a Purpose and Imperfection are cool but ultimately unsubstantiated.  If you're going to give me a glimpse of the movie behind your movie, why not open up a little more of a hole for me to slip through?

CLU could even be viewed as almost a tragic character in that he was merely performing what he was literally built to do.  And Kevin Flynn, in full on God mode, didn't know what he actually wanted when he Created CLU so his original design was flawed.

That's a big thing! That's a thing that we could have analyzed! And the final showdown between what is essentially the two sides of Flynn had a lot of potential that I felt was wasted by the constant rush to blow something else up.  I wish we'd been left to stew on the nature of Creation and Purpose and Life. I think the movie would have been stronger for it. 

Overall, Tron:Legacy was exactly what I thought it'd be: a beautiful movie full of glowing light cycles, neat sets, and a real expression of how far we've come since Tron.  Both of the movies are cutting edge for their respective time periods, and I cannot get over how far technology has come in the space of two decades.  I mean:

From this....

...to this?

Humans are made of magic.  

I give this movie a Solid A-.  I was blown away by the special effects. It was beautiful, and I was moved by the ending (if for no other reason than I went, "noooo!").  I wish it had a tad more substance, or we could see more of the Grid.  But it was really really great.  I recommend it.

...that is all...

Book Review

How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe by Charles Yu
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I loved this book.  I don't know if it was because I was reading it while in the midst of a class on post-modernity, or if I would have liked it before this class, but I do know that I thought it was phenomenal. The matter of fact tone of the protagonist, the ease with which I could fall into this world... no complaints on the world-building or even on the multitude of characters. Actually, there aren't very many characters, if just feels as if there are.  What with various temporal versions of the author, different versions of his parents, and the constant internal monologue, I was never lonely.

The only complaint (and the reason for my one star demotion) was the convoluted-ness of the ending.  I actually did re-read the last few pages multiple times to try to get it - the twist. I ended up not being able to (and being alright with that) but it was a tad frustrating.

All in all, I recommend this book for anyone who enjoys science fiction, meta fiction, or post-modern fic. This fits into all of the above while also being completely different.

A great first showing from an author I'm excited to read more from.


View all my reviews

2nd One: Vaccine Courts Archaic But Integral

In 2003, the measles killed over 500,000 children worldwide. Type B Influenza kills approximately 500,000 children a year while diphtheria and pertussis kill 300,000. According to UNICEF’s statistics, more than 30 million children are unimmunized around the world because they cannot afford the necessary vaccines or because their parents are uninformed as to how vaccines work.

Every year, however, hundreds of lawsuits are brought against the makers of these life-saving drugs by the parents of children who have been harmed by the side-effects of vaccinations.

On Tuesday, October 12, the United States Supreme Court ruled on a case that could have changed the way vaccines and vaccinations work in our country.

The case, Bruesewitz v. Wyeth, was an appeal of a previous case in opposition to a ruling made by the Supreme Court in 1986. This legislation set up “vaccine courts” to act as a shield in disputes between folk who had qualms with vaccines and their side-effects and the manufacturers of the vaccines. The primary function of these courts, and the fund set up simultaneously to provide recompense to the claimants, were to ensure a stable supply of vaccines into the country.

Lawsuits are an important part of our legal system. They provide an incentive for companies to act correctly or to the best of their ability so as to avoid being sued and having to pay out the nose. For a company whose ultimate goal is good business, it isn’t wise of them to do shoddy work and a lawsuit is the negative reinforcement that helps make sure that doesn’t happen.

There is a problem with this system, however. If a lawsuit were to be brought against drug companies every time something that possibly could have had something to do with vaccinations occurred, drug companies could deem vaccines too risky to their business and stop producing them.

Tuesday’s case ended in a 4-4 split between the Supreme Court justices which leaves the original ruling by the lower court intact. That ruling upheld the 1986 law and told the claimants that while what they were going through was a tragedy, they had to abide by the decision of the vaccine courts.

There is no easy answer to this problem, something that the justices seemed to think as well, judging by their decision or lack of one.

Vaccines should be regulated. They are an integral part of our medical system but that can’t stop them from having to be the best and safest they can be. And vaccines have a marked impact on our health. According to UNICEF, cases of polio decreased from 350,000 in 1988 to less than 1,300 in 2004 – a drop in a life-threatening disease that would be impossible without vaccines.

The FDA should keep closer tabs on vaccines and their possible side-effects so frustrated parents don’t have to turn to the outlaw justice of lawsuits to secure the results they want. With this in mind, however, the 1986 ruling needs to continue to stand. For all that the drug companies are like the mean kids in the sandbox, threatening to take their toys and go home if we don’t play fair, playing by their rules is the best choice for everyone.

For all that it pains me to say it, in this case Mr. Spock is right – “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

Sockpuppet Accounts Article - Originally Published in The Beacon

Don't ask me when, however... lol.  Since I can't find it online, I'm posting my last 2 articles here.  Enjoy.
-------------------

Depending on how long you’ve been on the Internet, you may or may not have heard the term “sockpuppet”, the slightly silly term for an Internet identity created to say something you don’t want ascribed to your actual Internet handle.

Sockpuppet accounts can be used for a variety of “nefarious” uses on the Internet, and very often these uses are what lead to them being a hated form of communication on forums and blogs across the ‘net.

Oftentimes, one person will have multiple sockpuppet accounts and start arguments with themselves on controversial subjects. This is a relatively easy way to incite sympathy or arguments online. After all, if no one knows that all of those people arguing with you are you, nice people are going to come to your aid.

The main contention the people of the Internet seem to have with sockpuppets comes back to the idea that life online should follow similar rules as life in the real world. So the Golden Rule should apply along with the caveat “if you’re not willing to say it as ‘yourself’, don’t say it at all.”

This logic is faulty, however. It presupposes that the Internet is the same as Real Life or that it should be.

The Internet has changed the world. This isn’t an argument, it’s a fact. Social media has changed the way we interact, online shopping has changed the way we consume, up-to-the-minute documentation has changed the way we understand the news. Who is to say that sockpuppets aren’t the logical evolution of how we as the public interact online.

There are multiple Twitter accounts for fictional characters like Lord Voldemort or Darth Vader. Since these characters don’t have access to the Internet, we have to assume that their accounts are being run by fans. This doesn’t strike me as that different from a sockpuppet account. After all, there are 17 accounts ascribed to the Dark Lord – they can’t all be him. Yet no one comments on these accounts, accusing their owners of acting in a cowardly manner and demanding that they post under their true identities.

One of the biggest issues with sockpuppet accounts is linked with authors anonymously reviewing and commenting on their own books.

When authors comment on their own books anonymously, leaving glowing recommendations and five-star reviews, it supposedly throws the entire system out of whack.

This issue, which has been occurring with frequency since a 2004 glitch in Amazon’s system revealed anonymous poster’s true identities, has been hailed as “dishonest” and can be seen as a breach in the contract between the author and their readers.

However, by commenting as readers on their own books, authors aren’t breaching their author-reader relationship, they are in fact just taking the next step in our social interaction.

The advent of the Internet and its ability to break down previously constructed social barriers has completely changed how we interact with the world around us. And if that means that some people would rather remain anonymous in order to express their true opinions or incite argument, then I say more power to them. 

May the Force be with Katie

I usually save my more personal posts for my livejournal, but this is so important to me I felt the need to discuss it on my more public forum.

This morning I logged on to Twitter (as usual) and discovered that a lot of the Geeks and Geek News sites I follow were pushing the hastag #maytheForcebewithKatie.  Since it's usually only big things that get passed around to everyone I follow, I clicked through to find out what the deal was.

I cannot fully explain the disappointment and sadness I felt when I read Katie's story:

She wailed, "The first grade boys are teasing me at lunch because I have a Star Wars water bottle.  They say it's only for boys.  Every day they make fun of me for drinking out of it.  I want them to stop, so I'll just bring a pink water bottle."

I hugged her hard and felt my heart sink.  Such a tender young age, and already she is embarrassed about the water bottle that brought her so much excitement and joy a few months ago.  

This. This still.  This is so not okay. I've been the victim of bullying "just because".  Luckily, it was never my love of Star Wars or Fantasy that caused people to pick on me, or if it was, I must have blocked it from memory.  One of my favorite memories is still when my mom picked me up early for an opening day showing of The Phantom Menace. I was so happy, I told everyone where I was going.  It was 1999; I was 11.

But somehow, in a world that professes to embrace diversity and love differences, we still have little girls being picked on for loving stuff that is awesome.

I dance ballet, wear skirts pretty much all the time, and enjoy talking about boys and reading romance novels.  This doesn't take away from the fact that I've read pretty much every fantasy book I've been able to get my hands on, know more about dinosaurs than my brother, can quote Star Wars, Monty Python, and The Lord of the Rings ad naueseum, and play D&D and WoW.

My heart hurts for Katie and other little girls (and boys!) like her who get picked on for not being "normal."  It's 2010. Shouldn't we be worried about other things?

The outpouring of support and love for Katie from geek girls the Internet over has been monumental.  I urge you, if you'd like, to post a comment for her here (or, if you're leery of creating an account, here).  Her mom and dad are reading them to her every night before she goes to bed.  And if you know a little geek-in-the-making or even a grown-up one, don't hesitate to show your love and appreciation for them.

May the Force be with you all,
Cell

Ghoul Hunting (Friday Flash)

The night is moonless.

Sean’s breath hangs frosty in front of him as he pants, breaking out in goosebumps as he presses his back to a cold gravestone.

There is a susurrus of sound, and then Mary is crouched next to him, her hair pulled back from her face, a sawed-off shotgun in her white-knuckled grip.

“Do you see anything?” Sean asks, his voice quiet.  Mary glares at him and shakes her head sharply.  With her free hand she points to the clip above her ear, her eyes narrowed in anger.  Sean grimaces in apology.

Sorry, he says through the telegrapher, I’m out of practice.

Of course they’re out there, Mary says, even her mental voice coming out clipped.  She turns her back to Sean and peers around the gravestone.  Four in shooting distance, who knows how many more over the next hill.

Is this it, then? Sean asks, putting his hands on Mary’s back to try to see around the grave with her. Did we find the nest?

Probably, she says. There’s only one way to be sure…

With a tight exhalation of breath, Mary moves the shotgun until it is against her chest and rolls from behind their grave to the shadow of the neighboring mausoleum.  Sean gasps, a short choked sound then scrambles for the pistol in his shoulder-holster. 

Around the edge of the grave, the ghouls are moving, their feet barely touching the ground as they dart around stones, slip over branches… The only time they make even a little bit of noise is when they go underground, the sound of their unnaturally long fingers pulling at the dirt the only thing that can alert you to their presence.

They’re not like the zombie’s he’s hunted before. Zombies are slow. Stupid. Easy to kill.  And the biggest difference about zombies? You can hear them coming.

If you hear a ghoul coming up through the dirt behind you, it’s already too late.

Sean! Mary hisses through the telegrapher, and he locks his knees to keep from jumping and alerting the ghouls to their position.

What?! He says, shifting the pistol to his other hand to unsnap the knife at his thigh.

They’ve stopped moving, Mary says, her mental voice tight and controlled.  When he looks over, her eyes are huge, the cat-slit irises open as wide as possible.

What do we do? He asks, tightening his grip on the pistol.

Try not to die, Mary says, deadly serious.

There is literally no sound in the cemetery now. The trees are not rustling, the grass is not moving. The night birds that usually dog their footsteps all through the night are silent.

Sean risks peeking his head around the edge of the gravestone he is crouched behind and is greeted with nothing – just the dark on dark shadows of the clouds that are passing over in a breeze that cannot be felt on the ground.

Sun up is three hours away, Mary says finally.  There is a sound like a shot and Sean tries not to jump as he watches Mary open the barrel, check her ammunition then close it again. Apparently she has decided that silence is no longer necessary.  With trembling fingers, he checks his own gun, loosens the strap around his knife, pushes his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead.  Mary nods at him and stands, her finger against the trigger.

In the distance, the low howl of a ghoul is joined by another. Another. Two more. Six. A dozen. Behind him, Sean can hear the unmistakable sound of rock and dirt being scrabbled at by long, demonic fingers.

Sean stands and backs up until he feels his heels press against Mary’s. She is barefoot in the graveyard, her neon toenail polish completely at odds with the rest of her utilitarian outfit.

“When the sun comes up, I’m buying you pancakes,” Sean says out loud.  Mary pulls the clip from her ear and puts it in the breast pocket of her vest.

“If the sun comes up,” she says.

The ghouls’ howling escalates until it is the only thing Sean can here.  They are all around them now and through the gloom he can see them, their long arms trailing against the ground, mouths gaping open, needle-sharp teeth as long as his forearm. 

Mary raises the shotgun to her shoulder.

The leading ghoul charges.

Performing surgery on my car. Except for the car it's like waking up on the surgery table and there's a guy in a suit holding your heart and he says "i'm actually a business man, not a surgeon. Don't worry though, I'll get this brain back in"

"We're gonna have a business! We're gonna train carrier parrots!" "We're gonna have a business. We're gonna lose carrier parrots." - Me & Darren

Hush - FridayFlash 10/15

Sometimes people just don’t wake up.  Sylvia tells herself this as she stumbles down the hall, scissors slipping from her fingers.  Sometimes people just sleep and sleep and there’s nothing to stop it.  She turns the corner, her socks sliding against the cold floors.  She takes the steps six at a time, short hops that leave her breath shaking from her and her hands stretched against the railings.

Behind her, the stairwell fills with a static-y shhhhhhhh, white noise sweeping up the walls, stalking her steps as she staggers through the door to the second floor.

The scissors in her hands are stuck there, slivers of plastic sticking to their sides, heralds of what she has done. No one will notice, she says. Sometimes people sleep.

Shhhhhhhhh

When she accepted the job, the oppurtunity, Sylvia was thrilled.  It was a paying job, it had great benefits, it was fun. The pamphlet had big bold letters emblazoned on the cover: “Help Insomniacs” it pronounced. “Good people helping Good people get a Good night’s rest.”

It looked fun.  It looked interesting.  

It wasn’t.

They gave her the scissors in a red plastic bag - an innocuous gift presented with a grin. “These are your tools,” they grinned.

When she took them out, they glowed, brilliant red light bursting from the pin that held the blades together.  Sylvia cocked her head and asked for an explanation.

“Don’t worry,” they laughed, “it’ll make sense soon.”

Shhhhhhhhhh

Sylvia slips, crashing to the ground with a stifled scream as her shin hits a stool on her way down.  She does not search behind her. She knows what sweeps after her with a horrible swiftness.

Shhhhhhhhh

They directed her to a hospital, her first time out on the job.  The mark’s name was Roger Richards and he was trying to rest on the sixth floor in the sleep ward.

“Go in, find him. They’ll know what to do,” they told her, motioning to the scissors with hands encased in red plastic.

“What? The scissors?” Sylvia asked, confusion obvious in her gaze.

“They’ll know,” they hissed.

Shhhhhhhh

Silence reigns behind her.  Sylvia cannot hear the slide of her socks against the floor, the strained wheezing of her breath as she swings around the second landing and sprints for the next stairwell.

The sick sit up in their beds, mouths stretched wide in silent screams as Syliva strides past them, trailing the soundlessness behind her.

The scissors in her hand start to tremble, shaking as they strain to escape.

Shhhhhhhh

Sylvia did not figure out what was going on until the fifth time she was given an assignment.  The first victims had sighed and settled deeper into their beds, sleeping peacefully, smiling.  Sylvia had smiled to herself and slipped out of the room, pocketing the scissors and jauntily going home.

The third time, as the scissors did their work, the alarms in the room went off.

A cacophony of noise came crashing into the quiet that accompanied the careful work of the scissors.  The alarm clanged above her head, calling into the halls of the hospital that there was a code, a code.  The pounding of feet came next, nurses and doctors careening around corners, stethoscopes around necks, voices all together asking what had happened.

Sylvia stood there, the scissors slipping from her limp hand, and saw the monitors display nothing. A straight line. Eternal sleep.

She threw the scissors in the nearest trash can, trembling as she walked home in a daze.

When she woke the next morning, the scissors were slipped into her fingers.

Shhhhhhhh

Sylvia shouts, the sound a whisper in the Silence.  

“Stop!” she says, her voice stretching the sibilants.  The static swirls around her, a hiss that has ambient sounds seeping into the floors.  “Stop,” she says, a whisper, a small sound that sinks to the floor.

The not-sound hangs in the air, swirling around her, steeping her in silence.  

“Sssssleeeeeppp...” the static hisses.

Sylvia’s breath stops in her throat.

“No,” she sobs, the sound a slight ripple in the silence.  The static is all around her, sliding through her skin, settling in her soul.

“Ssssseventhhh,” it hisses.  “Sssssleeeeeeppp.”

Sylvia’s eyes are heavy, the scissor slippery in her hand.  She tries to speak and is stopped by the slime of silence streaming down her throat.

She slips to the floor, the scissors shining in their red curse-light.

Shhhhhhhh