Fiction Part Two: The Server & the three kings

"Nice bruise. Is there still an eye in there?"
FBI Agent King looked up to see Officer King holding an ice pack, a smile on her face.
"Yeah its in there, despite breaking the computer's fall."
"Well it was worth it," Mountie King called from the fire escape, "Your melon was soft enough to absorb the impact to save the hard drives."
"Is he complimenting me Officer King?"
"I don't speak Canadian," she smirked.
The two watched the RCMP Mountie make his way down the iron stairs that ran the side of the unassuming red brick townhouse. They were just outside of Detroit in one of the middle class areas still holding on. It was the end place of a two year investigation involving multiple agencies and governments. The whole neighbourhood had been flooded with cops, agents, and mounties to avoid anyone getting away. There had been only a couple shots fired, no deaths. A good day.
"The tech boys have already stripped the drives and have them backed up. There is a lot of gold just in the computers alone. All our bosses are going to be happy, no fighting in the sandbox at this time."
"Great, beers on me," FBI King said.
"I guess it explains the computer toss," Officer King said, "They were out of options. Glad one of them didn't think to simply smash it."
"Scared stupid wins the day."
"King!" a trench coat called out, the three of them turned.
"Sorry, I meant  the Cop King."
Officer King laughed, "at least he didn't say the Lady King."
The two men watched her stroll over to the trench coat before the Mountie leaned in.
"Brian, the Authors use the network," he whispered.
Brian King looked up, trying to read the Mountie's face with his remaining good eye.
The Mountie produced a folded piece of paper.
"It will take a while to get the details, but here is the log of the forum that they were using on the server. It's a start for your boys to work with while waiting for the treasure chest to be fully unlocked."
"How did you?"
"I asked politely," the Mountie smiled, "They know how important this is to you."
"Thanks," Brian whispered.
The Mountie squeezed Brian's shoulder " No problem. Let me know if you need anything else. I let you read over alone."
The Mountie was only a couple of steps away when Brian took out his cellphone. Waited for the machine to pick up.
"Hey," Brian said, "I know I'm not suppose to call, but I just wanted to let you know. We have a lead."
he hung up and stared up at the sky. Finally.

Behind in the Science

I received a Kobo reader for my birthday and as I have previously stated I'm not interested in discussing the death of anything (book, novel, etc.) I will have to talk about another thought that has come to me as I play with this cool new device.

As with any new media player, I needed to get the content up. Fortunately the Kobo reader comes with 100 free books. As a 21st century man though, I need more. So I did some digging on the Internet and found that Tor (www.tor.com) had a number of novellas (all science fiction) available for free on their website. I finished the first one this week, "Eros, Philia, Agape" a story about a human or robot in love. It was a character driven story rather than about science specifically, but it felt modern and engaged my mind in that fashion. It also reminded me about how behind I am in my science fiction reading.

I use to guzzle down the sci-fi, but thinking over the past decade, I have rarely gone to the science fiction well, at least from a book sense, I have watched a lot of American science fiction television and movies. This made me a little sad as book science fiction tends to be more challenging and less comfortable then what is put up on the screen. A matter of not designing by committee perhaps?

With the notable exception of Cory Doctorow most of my Science fiction reading I have managed to do has been from the 1990's. A lot has changed in the world of science since Factoring Humanity was written. Perhaps I should sit down and go through the Hugo short lists.

Well the Kobo has a solution for that particular idea, I can borrow books via the library and read them within 21 days. This solves the problem of access, but not the problem of time. Which I guess loops us back to the beginning about what to think of the new ereaders. The only conclusion I have come up with is that it will end up being like my PSP, PS3, Wii, ipod; fun devices that require too high a time commitment to enjoy fully and so I will use lightly.  None of these devices create time so in that regard they are not much different than a book read for leisure.

Still, at the end of the day. It's a cool device.
S

Five discussions

When I review my life, or rather the timeline of my life, I find there usually are five conversation topics that exhaust me immediately. The kind of arguments that either can't be solved, require a lot of research/thought to get right, or isn't really a discussion if you sit down and look at the facts. Fortunately, these topics change over time (perhaps its seasonal, but I have no empirical data), but the number of them persists.

This thought came to me I ran a 5K yesterday at the Zoo (finished in 30 minutes, which I thought was a good time first time out). As it was a long run, I also updated the current list:

1. Lower taxes, same services -  Every political discourse I follow (federal, provincial, municipal) there is always a discussion of how I can get the same level of service for less taxes and the government is wasting my money. I no problem with this thesis, its just exhausting because no one ever says what exactly is wasting my money. If you're going to cut waste, maybe you should provide a list. This also is part of a greater argument that government sucks given by people who don't follow politics at all. I keep my mouth shut on European fashion as I don't know anything about it. People should apply this principle to governmental operations.
2. Death of the Book/Novel/Television/Science Fiction - Constantly predicting the end of something does not mean you get points when it actually happens, or that people magically forget when you turn out to be wrong. I hate reading articles about the death of some element of culture when I could have spent time actually consuming that elemental of culture.
3. The best game system is - Games are what matters not the hardware system or added features (like watching movies). At the end of the day, I remember the games played more than what system it was on. Frankly the older I get the less time I have to play, I care less what I am playing on.
4.  What is Canadian Art  Maybe I missing something but to put it simply; it is either a) written by a Canadian or b) set in Canada. You can talk about influences (as many Canadian writers consume a lot of US or UK culture) but they are still Canadian. Its my least favorite question on Canada Reads.
5. Existence of God - For me the existence of God is a matter of faith (either you believe or you don't; can't be proved empirically).  I am more drawn to a discussion of ethics, the logistics/operations of faith, then the meta-nature of the universe. Of course this is a completely different headache.

Despite this thought, I actually enjoyed my run and thought of several books that I need to read on these topics to assure myself hat I'm not an idiot when I'm forced to discuss them.
S

Fiction Part one: The Neighbours

As promised, I have finished my short fiction piece. I was surprised how the story came together in my head so quickly. Now I just need to get my writing quality up to do it justice. Enjoy.

The man had always wished he could be a poet. He had almost sighed out loud at the thought while carefully restraining his characters under the rickety stairs at the back of the shed. He remained silent; always silent when they were around. Though tied up and filled with fear, they were in charge. He did not speak, but only removed the tape from their mouths and listened. Sometimes they screamed, or cried, or begged, but they all told their story after a time if one knew how to listen. Tape was reapplied and the man lumbered up the stairs with one pause to pull the light’s drawstring when he was near the top.  It was a short walk across his weed covered yard to the house where warmth awaited him.

The man entered the kitchen to find his wife had left. A small note lay beside a hot teapot and cup. The man read it with a chuckle before pouring the tea. A couple years ago, he was turned onto green tea by his wife. She worked down at the local Y, administration, and one of the young yoga instructors had introduced the Chinese tea to the office who in turn brought it home to their husbands. According to his wife, he had been the only one to accept this exotic addition to their household with no protest. The man simply smiled and said perhaps she was a better cook than most. This statement had agreed with her, as with most things he said to her.

The routine, perfected over the years, lay before the man in his mind.  He would sit down in his breakfast nook and finish his green tea while watching the leaves play across his backyard. After the morning dishes were clean, he would make his way to the typewriter in the den, where he compiled his listenings; first from memory into notebooks before he typed them up for editing. This needed to be done quickly as his memory had faded with age. He was worried that he would soon need to start taking the notebooks with him downstairs; they wouldn’t respect him then. 

The man sighed, not interested in tea or his work. The man found his gaze going to the knee high wire fence that ran along the west side of his property, separating him from the house next door. It had been vacate for a couple years allowing its yard to go wild, before being recently bought by a young couple. The Garrisons, according to his wife, were from the city and looking to expand and raise their family. The man was uncertain of the criteria, but his wife had confirmed they were good people and advised him of such during their evening walk.

She had indicated that he would love them; friendly and chatty, with an adorable baby girl. The husband was in the man’s line of work. The man had indicated his skeptical surprise, but his wife replied there was no doubt as she had seen the young man unloading notebooks from their moving van. She then moved onto a discussion of how he needed to engage more with the community and how hermits made poor neighbours. The man had stopped listening, now unsettled by the idea of a fellow listener next door.

It was after that walk the man started noticing things. Lights that he didn’t recall turning on; locked doors found ajar; odd marks in the dust that covered the main floor of the shed.  At first he thought it was his failing memory, but that did not sooth a growing, uneasy wondering. The characters said nothing outside their normal pleads, but the man felt they were keeping secrets—the end of his career if they started holding back.

Each day these random events began to collect, nagging doubts that unsettled his mind and stomach. He kept his concerns from his wife—they never discussed his work— leaving her to assume the awkward silence and brooding were a consequence of a problem that he would eventually solve. The characters sensed it but could only clumsily try to use it against him, but their ignorance betrayed them.

The man shook his head and stood up. It would end today. He must see for himself. He grabbed his coat and step outside. He paused only to confirm the street was empty before he stepped over the fence.  He circled the house twice before he was convinced that the Garrisons were not home. He stopped at the back of the house, gave the yard one more look over, then struggled his way down the steep cement stairs at the back. He wished he had brought a flashlight— he was too old to wander dark basements unassisted.

The room was freshly painted, the smell tickled the man’s nose. There were no furnishings, the floor covered with white sheets. His wife had been right that young Garrison was in his line of work; the room was filled with characters. Walking closer to them, he could see the hopeful distress in their bruised faces, a misplaced optimism that made the man uncomfortable and aware that he was overstepping his boundary. At the same time, looking at their face, the man felt relief and found a smile come to his face. He nodded to them and turned.  They called him through their gagged mouths as he silently closed the screen door behind him, and climbing the cement stairs, his hand gripping the pipe railing.

It had brightened up outside, the man blinked and held a hand over his eyes. Looking up, the man was surprised to find young Garrison standing in the yard. The man stopped at the second last step and looked the younger man in the eyes. They were not angry but red with embarrassment. The man found himself blushing as well.  The two men stood looking at each other.

                “I’m sorry,” he said, “There’s no excuse for what I have done.”

                Young Garrison smiled, “I can’t treat you too harshly when I’m guilty of that myself. Who doesn’t want to look in on another’s work?”

                The man looked down the cement stairs, the screen door still shut.

                “It is lonely work,” he said

                “Tell me about it,” Young Garrison laughed, “makes you wish you were a poet. They don’t really have to deal with characters.”

                The two men shared a smile.

“I was glad to discover there was a fellow professional in the neighbourhood. I’m embarrassing myself but I have to say I was really excited when I found out from your wife who you were. Your work has been a big influence.”

                “Ah.”

"Yeah, I can't listen so well. I mean you can hear the voices in your writing. I'm so far back on the road in comparsion.

Another pause. The man saw young Garrison's eagerness, that drive for perfection. It had been a part of his life once, so long ago. The man liked the idea of being around that sort of energy again.

                “We got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over,” Young Garrison wiped his hand and extended it. 

“I’m Rolan Garrison.”

The man smiled and took it, a good respectable grip.

“have you ever tried green tea?” he said.

Great Expectations

As with many things, I have a tendency to go a little far in the goal stage without making sure the infrastructure is there to ensure timely completion. I was intending to post a big post each day. But the realities of my life might prevent that. Still, I actually managed to write a short fiction draft that after I polish it up, I hope to post tomorrow. The plan is to upload a weekly installment of fiction that all knit together at the end (similar to what is happening at penny-arcade). Although mine is mostly for practice. We will see how it goes.

I have been watching a lot of television series on DVD and wonder if the creators intended people to go through them so fast. I wonder if  I were writing a weekly show, whether I would like people to watch it "live" or wait to get the whole story all at once when the series had run its course. I guess its a moot point for me as I don't have cable.

Frosh did it too

My Frosh week was much more physical then some, and although I have heard of such questionnaires, I did not see one until Becky forwarded this one to me. Here are my answers:

a. What did you do on your last birthday? I had a rather rotten day at work, one should not work one’s birthday. Afterwards I picked up my daughter Z from day care and came home for a dinner of General Tso Tofu, followed by a short walk and playing with Z. The evening was spent with S after Z was asleep. Subdued but in a good way.

b. Name something awesome about you that you’ve never been able to market properly? My innate desire to know everything. This has a serious drawback of creating a perpetual doubt of my abilities, but it does lead to a kind interest in everything and everyone (“just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not important).I also hope it has led to an open mind. I have worked hard to override this desire as I simply can’t know everything or sit around reading in pursuit of this goal; the Internet has not helped with this. It is a hard thing to market outside of trivial pursuit circles.

c. What book do you have to resist trying to force other people to read? Anathem by Neal Stephenson. It involves philosophy, monks and mathematics. Three subjects most people avoid.

d. How good a swimmer are you? I’m an excellent swimmer as I took lessons up to Bronze Cross. My form is a bit rusty, but it’s still there. I thoroughly enjoy being in a body of water.

e. Ideal pet? Robot friend. If it must be biological then it would be a tie between a penguin and Pegasus.

f. If you don’t have to compromise with other diners or pay for extra toppings, what goes on the pizza? Pepperoni, extra cheese (or a mix of cheese), green peppers, mushrooms, and onions.

g. Can you, in your own estimation but also from the viewpoint of the real word, sing? Yes, I’m not as good as my brother, but I can carry a tune if I stay in my octane and have the lung capacity to give it power.

h. What are you wearing right now? Typical weekend apparel; blue jeans, orange t-shirt with a pair of boxers and socks. This were acquired at the Eddie Bauer outlet in the summer.

i. When, in your opinion, is it appropriate to chew gum? Pretty much anywhere except weddings, funerals, job interviews, or where you care what a photo of you might look like. The disposal of the gum is more important (wrap it in paper and throw it in a garbage bin)

j. What book did you read as a teen that made you realize how smart and misunderstood and *deep* you are? The collected volumes of Doom Patrol. It was a superhero comic that introduced modern art/philosophy & historical concepts. I was engrossed in the strangeness of it, to the point of researching the series many references. The main characters were misfits (usually due to their abnormal knowledge of/experience with the bizarre) so I sort of related to their isolation (which my case was imaginary).

k. What magazine would you never buy yourself but always sort of hope is in the stack at the doctor’s office? Foreign Affairs. Interesting articles that take a very long time to read (and therefore would pile up in my house). It’s okay if they pile up at the doctor’s office.

l. Can you bake a pie? Yes, its quality would depend on the complexity of the recipe and the quality of the ingredients.

m. Who lives next door to you? What is your relationship like? I have never met my neighbor. Our relationship is that of strangers who never meet.

n. What is the easiest way for you to learn a new skill? Read about it briefly then practice it. If the skill is complex, I may need someone to show me how to do it a couple times.

o. What is that book you keep meaning to read and haven’t, and feel bad about every time it comes up in conversation? There are hundreds but the current top three are: Cyptonomonicon by Neal Stephenson, Under Heaven by GGK, and Infinite Jest by Wallace. They are big books on my shelf I need to finish.

p. What are you listening to right now? The city outside my window, my wife flipping the pages of the newspaper, the dryer tumbling, and my typing.

q. Do you remember what you wore on the first day of high school? If so what? If not, substitute some other important day when you remember what you wore. I am terrible remembering clothes as I tended to wear the same things for years till they are wore out and then I go out and buy a week’s worth of clothes again. I believe I work cords and a sweatshirt and had a terrible haircut.

r. What are you doing tonight? I believe I will be doing some writing, getting ready for the week (lunches, ironing etc.) and maybe watch an episode of Fringe, then read a bit of “How fiction works” before going to bed.

s. What’s the last thing you ate? A couple of carrots from the fridge.

t. Why did you do this questionnaire? A friend asked me to.

When in Proust...

In light of recent conversations as well as overheard conversations, a lot of people are doing questionnaires, particularly the Prost Questionnaire (there is a book of famous people answering it, as well as a sometimes feature on the Next Chapter). So here are my answers to the Prost Questionnaire:

a. Your favourite virtue. My desire to like people, or find some part of them to like

b. Your favourite quality in a man: Ability to fall into easy, frank friendships.

c. Your favourite quality in a woman: Ability to fall into a playful, conversational friendships

d. Your chief characteristic: my chattiness

e. What you appreciate the most in your friends: Their time and laughter.

f. Your main fault: Doubt, action crippling doubt

g. Your favourite occupation: The Pursuit of Trivial Knowledge

h. Your idea of happiness: All my friends and family having a good time together on an island resort that has a huge library and Internet access; Knowledge, friendship, peace

i. Your idea of misery: Being trapped with nothing but reminders of all the mistakes you have or will make.

j. If not yourself, who would you be?: No one. I saw the Star Trek episode showing why changing previous selves is a bad idea.

k. Where would you like to live? Not so much in one place, but the freedom to have a home in Owen Sound, Toronto, Vancouver, London, and Tokyo. With easy transportation between them

l. Favourite colour and flower: Green and forget me nots

m. Favourite bird: The Penguin and the Kingfisher/blue jay

n. Favourite prose authors: Currently, Neil Gaiman, Guy Gavriel Kay for novels and Rebecca Rosenblum, Cory Doctorow and Thomas King for short stories

o. Favorite Poets: Don’t know a lot of poets. Frost, Dante,

p. Favorite heroes in fiction: Sherlock Holmes, Eramus, Eljah Snow, Cliff Steele, Meyer Landsman, Bilbo Baggins, Morpheous, Richard Castle, Batman, Spiderman

q. Favorite Heroines in fiction: Fenfang, Nikki Heat(Detective Beckitt), Sun, Crazy Jane

r. Favorite painters and composers: Rembrandt, Mozart, Bach, Monet, Duchamp (Dada in general), the Group of Seven

s. Your heroes in real life: Neil Gaiman, Foreign aid workers

t. Your heroines in real life: Steph, Becky, Corrina, Mom

u. What characters in history do you most dislike: Most absolute monarchs

v. Your heroines in history: George Elliot, Elenor Roosevelt

w. Your favorite food and drink: General Tao Tofu, 7up from a glass bottle, sushi, A&W momma burgers, fettuccine alfredo

x. Your favorite names: Scott, Alexis, Zoë, Sebastian, Gavon, Jessica, Selene

y. What I hate the most: People (including myself) being stupid

z. World history character I hate the most: A Lot of ancient kings are on this list.

aa. The military event I admire the most: The retreat at Dunkirk (the fact so many were saved) , The Greeks triumph over the Persians (the battle after the battle of the 300)

bb. The reform I admire the most: The charter of rights and freedom (Canada) end of absolute monarchies.

cc. The natural talent I’d like to be gifted with: perfect memory recall

dd. How I wish to die: Heat death of the universe (possible a couple universes after this one)

ee. What is your present state of mind: Weary but vaguely optimistic

ff. For what fault have you most toleration: Obsessions with some trivia subject.

gg. My favorite motto. “The thing about common sense is that it is not a lot of sense and not all that common” or “I should be too afraid that it bring me misfortune”

Well... it did make me crazy

One of the consequences of being a proud member of the twenty first century—one should always opt for the most future dated time period available at birth— is that judgments come quickly. The Internet and its mobile components have created a sense of understanding and wisdom beyond our actual reality. We generalize too easily and shut doors too quickly before we truly comprehend. Perhaps it has always been this way, that few pause, take a breath, and attempt to have sober second thoughts.

It’s with this thought of possibly unwarranted entitled opinions I consider “Girl Crazy” by Russell Smith. The novel was released earlier this year and lent to me by my good friend Becky. It’s a novel about a young man named Justin moving from a passive nature to an aggressive one. This path leads him to a lifestyle of sex, drugs, crime, and violence with no real negative consequences.

To be fully honest, I’m not a hundred percent sure of what I think of the book. Déjà vu plagued me through my reading: A poor, hot girl opens a world of “darkness” to a previously naïve, unmotivated young man; a passive person overcomes his cardboard character foes by finding his truer, admittedly scummier, self; getting away with a crime is easy if you don’t feel guilt; internal turmoil at living “a little life”; the gritty city. I was reminded of Fight club, Wanted, self-help books, DC Vertigo comics, and HBO shows.

My first reaction was to dislike it. Roll my eyes at the familiar plot, lack of context, and the gross simplifications (why can no one write convincingly about video games?). Then I began to wonder where my dislike came from and if, perhaps, I was being unfair. After giving it some thought I came up with three reasons why the novel didn’t sit well with me, causing my poorly considered first reaction:

1. It does cut close to home as I’m a man with passive tendencies, prone to let stuff slide in an attempt to avoid a decision; holding back my thoughts in confrontations. So there might be envy in my reading of Justin’s conversion to a man of action and despite its violent and amoral ends, the transformation was one of the redeeming moments of the novel. There’s a sense of triumph as Justin began to redraw his DO NOT CROSS lines due to the realignment of his moral compass that I’m reluctant to admit being impress with. I disagree with where he drew the lines, but at least they were being redrawn. I wonder if it’s better to make a bad decision then to not make one at all.

2. That the book implies that might makes right is our world’s norm. That civilization is largely a window dressing over the savages that we are. In the small lives of humans that greater ideas of peace, law, and compassion matter little. The novel’s characters tended to fall on the “happy naïve world”/sheep or on the other side aggressive jerks/wolves. It felt as though the only grey character was Justin, but he too was lost as he chose a side by the end of the novel. Although I’m pretty confident that the world is not like this, I wonder how many people believe that the world is this way and if it is in great enough number to make it so.

3. The male sexuality portrayed, particularly through the mental language of Justin, was not flattering but it did touch on the part of it that I’m not happy with. Although I don’t think I obsess at much as Justin, I can’t say that my mind has not wandered down such avenues. The question is whether there is anything wrong with it (“pluck your eye out”) or are we simply wired that way and our actions are our character, not our thoughts.

The word literature gets thrown around a lot and one cannot read the news without a review of a book that “will blow the reader’s mind”. I am skeptically of these claims, as most books are safe, or at least nothing new. Girl Crazy was largely not new for me; the story was familiar to me. And yet, I find it has left my mind ajar. I have uncomfortable questions I find myself compelled to answer which is all you can ask of a truly good novel.