Exploring the Power of Symbolism

FYI

2016-02-16T14:50:46Z

Interesting situation....

I have currently entered five of my poems in a contest for a game I play under a pseudonym and I am doing my best to make sure no one accuses me of stealing my own works. (To my knowledge, no one has yet.)

Anyway, in case anyone from Celsius comes to this page, I am indeed Juliannabariman in your game, and the following poems are my own works:

A Day Full of You
Deeper Love
Kindred Spirits
He Called Me a Rose
Love Without Cliches

Though, if memory serves me correct, I think only three of these poems on in this journal.

To make Google+ happy

2013-06-13T05:06:38Z

Google+

Now, I just have to stop dragging my feet about rescuing old works off of old hard drives. I'm really disgusted that I didn't save a copy of one story I've been working on to the web. I thought I had, but I can't find it anywhere. :(

Dust Motes and Ashes

2012-04-24T11:44:48Z

Dust Motes and Ashes is Free for the next 5 days!

US store - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007FKAY0E
UK store - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007FKAY0E
DE store - https://www.amazon.de/dp/B007FKAY0E
FR store - https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B007FKAY0E
IT store - https://www.amazon.it/dp/B007FKAY0E
ES store - https://www.amazon.es/dp/B007FKAY0E

International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day

2012-04-23T17:10:12Z

Read for details - https://www.eviscerati.org/commentary/2012/04/23/all-ye-international-pixel-stained-technopeasants-unite

In honor of this day, I am taking advantage of the fact that Amazon will let me price Dust Motes and Ashes for free for 5 days. Unfortunately, it wouldn't let me start it until tomorrow.

So, in addition to this, like Christopher Wright, I will be looking through my works and posting something new on The Short Stories of A.D. Barncord, with a lot of already free content for you to read.

I encourage the rest of you technopeasants to join in.

Story Excerpt

2012-03-02T19:00:53Z

“Was the vandalism that bad?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly vandalism,” he says. “It was more voyeurism.”

I wait for a few moments. Then I say, “You know, I’m completely in the dark here. Would it really hurt to give me more to go on?”

“Your attacker tried to push himself into your home to see if his attempt was successful. His access to this dimension is limited, so his face presented itself as a charcoal drawing on your wall.”

“That must have been very creepy looking,” I say.

“Damn near hospitalized one of the officers processing the house,” Jasper answers. “Poor guy almost had a stroke when the face tried to talk to him. It will be interesting to see what happens when they try to remove it. As it is, it’s good news for us.”

“How so?”

“It showed me the limits of your attacker’s access here. Not having my resources, he’s relying on substandard equipment and for the moment, he’s stuck.”

Read it at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007FKAY0E

New short story on Amazon

2012-03-01T13:20:07Z

Dust Motes and Ashes [Kindle Edition]

What if your reality was not what you have always assumed it was? A woman grapples with this question as she finds herself stalked by a malicious entity and helped by someone she had always deemed to be a figment of her imagination. (Written in English.)

US store - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007FKAY0E - $0.99
UK store - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007FKAY0E - £0.77
DE store - https://www.amazon.de/dp/B007FKAY0E - EUR 0,89
FR store - https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B007FKAY0E - EUR 0,89
IT store - https://www.amazon.it/dp/B007FKAY0E - EUR 0,89
ES store - https://www.amazon.es/dp/B007FKAY0E - EUR 0,89

(Borrow this book for free, with no due dates, if you are a Kindle owner and Prime member in the US.)

I'm not sure if the international versions are live yet. They look live from my account, though.

The Path of Destruction Collection - From Enemy to Ally

2011-12-10T10:18:53Z

Commander Reese Montgomery’s space cruiser was on a routine observation run of the outlying Ansharian outposts. The Ansharian and Trevans were not currently at war, but with a long history of conflicts, it was prudent to keep an eye on activities on the border regions. Because his ship was closer to enemy communication stations than home stations, Commander Montgomery and his crew heard about the Cygtan attacks on the Anshar and Jaspin border worlds, before they heard of the attacks on their own border worlds, which were followed closely by the reports of attacks on the Thix worlds.

Obviously, the first order of business was to go back and protect Trevan territory. After having navigation set that course, he told his surveillance crew to check their records for anything unusual. By all rights, they should have seen something. A Cygtan battleship should have left some trace. No one had a cloaking device that good.

The TSS Sequoia returned to normal space just inside the Ansharian border. Montgomery wanted to check for possible Cygtan relay stations. Scans showed nothing. “How are they planning to communicate with each other?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else. “Kahler, see what signals we can intercept?”

“Yes, sir!”

Montgomery sent a priority message to headquarters, requesting further orders. Kahler hailed him on the intercom about 30 minutes later.

“Sir, I think I know how they’re planning to communicate with each other,” he said. “They’re commandeering the comm stations of the worlds they’re conquering. We just intercepted a distress call from the terraforming research station on Malfina IV. After they ate the operator, they began using his equipment to send a signal back to the Cygtan headquarters.”

Montgomery noticed that Kahler’s face was a little more ashen than normal. “Do you think there are any humans still alive on Malfina IV, Kahler?”

“I don’t know, sir, but the Asharian said that they had their families there - their children. I . . . I think we should see if we can rescue them, sir.”

“I suspect that they are all already dead,” he said. “However, we should at least destroy the Cygtan relay point there. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some survivors.”

“Yes, sir.”

Montgomery gave his orders to the helmsman and sent another message to headquarters, informing them on their intent to take out the Cygtan relay point on Malfina IV. Cloaked, they put themselves in an interception path with the Cygtan ship. Their combat computer was analyzing the enemy frigate for any weaknesses they could exploit. By their reckoning, it was an older ship, which was probably why it went for an outpost, instead of a main population center. Still, it took almost all of their photon ammunition to take it down and they were nearly hit by a plasma blast.

They blasted the communication tower from orbit. Landing an away team was a bit more problematic. They finally found a terraforming observation post far enough from the main invasion site to let them land without being swarmed by hungry Cygtans. There was only one lab technician there - a Verna Miller. Though she was in shock, she had enough presence of mind to tell them were some surface vehicles were and to give them her tablet with the layout of the main complex on it. The Sequoia’s chief medic gave her a mood stabilizer and sat down with her to ask more questions. Montgomery looked around at the small trees and primitive grasses and asked, “How far are you in terraforming this world?”

“We have the climate stable for the initial vegetation,” she said.

“Have you dismantled the temperature regulators yet?”

“No. But you can’t operate them from here. The controls are in the main complex.” She moved the layout with her finger and then tapped it once to change floors. “There. That’s where the control room is. If you’re going to chill them off, you’re going to need me to operate the systems, though.”

Montgomery nodded. “How long before it’s night?”

“About two more hours,” she answered.

“What type of supplies do you have here?”

Instead of answering, Verna walked to a shed and opened it. “If you can use it to get rid of those monsters, you can take it.”

“Bennett,” Montgomery ordered, “see what we can use in there.”

“Aye, sir.”

Outside of the power packs and emergency medical supplies, there wasn’t much of military value in the shed. They took Verna’s vehicle to a garage closer to the main complex that had three vehicles in it. Inside, two of the mechanics were planning to defend themselves. Verna was able to convince them to cooperate.

The older one muttered, “I never thought I’d see the day when I would work with a Trevan, much less with a Trevan military unit, but those bugs - they are the Devil’s spawn. We humans got to stick together if we don’t want to be eaten.”

“My feelings exactly,” Montgomery said. “So how would you enter the main complex if you were us?”

“If I were you, I’d wait for nightfall and drive very fast, guns blazing,” the older mechanic said. “But if it was me, I would try the underground access tunnels first.”

“I thought they were sealed,” Verna said, following the mechanic as he and his younger coworker grabbed a few tools and walked to the back of the vehicle repair bay.

“They were, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be opened with the right tools,” the older mechanic said, fitting a wrench on the door, while the other mechanic positioned a crowbar. “And this is the place to get the tools. You might want to grab some air masks from cabinet behind you, Verna, this air is going to be stale.”

Verna handed Montgomery several masks, keeping one for herself. He offered one to the older mechanic, who refused, saying he wasn’t up to fighting bugs. The younger mechanic took the one offered him, grabbed a flashlight, and took the wrench from the first mechanic’s hands. “You’re going to need help opening the other side,” he said.

His crew had their own masks, but he motioned for them to clip the extra ones to their belts. Maybe they would have no need of them, but it wouldn’t hurt to have extras. They climbed into the dark tunnel, behind the younger mechanic. It was obvious that all power had been shut off to it. It would still be night when they got there, but they wouldn’t be detected.

The tunnel opened into the warehouse section of the complex. Several of the metal crates had been opened and rifled through, with empty food stuff containers strewn about. There was a pile of bones and torn cloth, which was probably a human not so long ago. Montgomery and his men pulled out their firearms.

“Why aren’t they down here still?” one of his men asked.

“Probably because they realized that there was easier and fresher food to be had elsewhere,” he answered. “Which means they will probably be back here later.”

“There’s a distribution control hub over there,” the young mechanic said. “We can see where they are and use the delivery robots as scouts.”

The Cygtan guarding the control hub was too busy tearing through a container of vegetable flakes to hear their approach. Montgomery and two of his men were able to shoot it before it could alert anyone. Going to the console, the mechanic first turned the surveillance system to motion detector mode.

“It looks like they’re still eating people in the labs,” he said. “They also have the comm center guarded.”

“What about the atmosphere control center?” Verna asked.

The mechanic keyed in the location. “Don’t see anyone alive in there, but you might need to use the maintenance tunnels to get there.” He took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. “Now to see how much I remember of Sam’s system. I can’t program schedules into it, but I usually do direct control runs to make sure the repairs I do to the robots work. Let’s find one nearby.” The robot zipped through the tunnels, showing one Cygtan guard post along the route, but everything else was clear.

Montgomery sent four of his people with Verna, then he turned to the mechanic and asked, “Can you access the building’s thermostat from here?”

“I’m sure it’s possible, but I don’t know how to do it,” the mechanic said.

“Kahler, do you think you can figure it out?” The comm officer looked over the console and then nodded. The mechanic gave up his seat to him.

“Are we planning to freeze them out?” the mechanic asked.

“Being warm-blooded may be our only real advantage against them right now,” Montgomery said. “At the very least, we might be able to get them away from the comm center.”

While Kahler hacked his way into the temperature controls, Montgomery and the mechanic watched the video screens. One of the motioned detection ones flashed over to a scene of a child’s head peeking out of a tunnel, over a smashed robot. An older female child pulled him back.

“Where is this location?” Montgomery asked the mechanic.

“It’s on a lower level where we are now,” he said. “I can program a robot to lead us there.”

Kahler stopped his activity. “What is it?” he asked.

“There are children hiding in the tunnels,” Montgomery said. Kalher immediately turned the console back over to the mechanic, who programmed a robot with the coordinates and orders to wait for him before going there. Leaving Marks, the only other member of his away team, behind to guard Kahler while he worked, Montgomery accompanied the mechanic himself.

The robot was waiting for them outside of the room. Firearm drawn, Montgomery covered the mechanic as they followed the robot through the access tunnels, down the shaft where the broken robot lay. The mechanic called out a few names. The boy and older girl came out, followed by five other children. They looked at Montgomery with terror in their eyes.

“It’s okay,” the mechanic told them. “This is Commander Montgomery. He’s here to save us from the bugs.”

“Hello, children,” Montgomery said. “We’re going to make it really cold here soon, to make the bugs go to sleep. So, we need to get you some place warm. Okay?”

They nodded and followed the mechanic back to the main floor of the warehouse. Too late, Montgomery realized that they hadn’t covered over the pile of bones there. He quickly hurried the children past it and into the control room. Then he tipped an empty crate over the pile. There was still blood all over the floor. He went back into the room.

“How many air masks do we have?” he asked. A quick survey showed eight - two for each Trevan still in the room, one for the mechanic, and the one Verna left behind. Montgomery had them placed on the children and had the young mechanic take them back through the access tunnel to the older mechanic. As the children left the room, the oldest girl said, “There aren’t bugs, you know. They’re Cygtans.”

“I know, Shannon,” the mechanic said. “But we can talk about it back at garage with Ray.”

It was only a few minutes after the children had left that the building became noticeably colder. Montgomery watched on the video screens as Cygtans instinctively moved to warmer areas. He relaxed his shoulders a little as his men and Verna made it to the climate control center.

Kahler connected a direct comm link to the garage. He informed the older mechanic of the children coming to him. Then he and Marks brought in some unspoiled food and sealed the door, while Montgomery monitored the Cygtans. Unfortunately, the aliens hadn’t completely lost their problem solving skills. They were finding ways to keep themselves warm, without setting off the fire suppression system.

Montgomery paused for a moment and then signaled Bennett. “Can Ms. Miller trigger the fire-suppression system from where you’re at?” he asked.

He watched Verna’s face on the screen as Bennett repeated the request. It was almost an evil sense of delight in it as she began typing commands into the terminal. Bennett signaled back, “Your area is sealed, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

On multiple screens curtains of white foam gushed from the ceilings. Montgomery smiled in spite of himself. She was treating it as if it was an oil fire. The Cygtans began to evacuate the building to get away from the foam. Except for those guarding the communications center.

“The tower’s out and their ship is dead,” Kahler said. “They must be trying to rerout the signal somewhere.”

Marks finally exploded with disgust, “Why don’t we just blow the room up? We can use a robot to place a target beacon and let the Sequoia do the rest.”

Kahler tried his hand with the robot system. It didn’t respond to him quite as quickly as it did for the mechanic, but he was able to get a robot to their room and then get it to take a beacon to the access tunnel near the communication center. Montgomery gave the Sequoia’s chief gunner the order to blast the area. Minutes later, the screen showing the communications room went blank. Satisfied, Montgomery ordered a retreat to the garage. Even though the four crew members coming back would give them all enough face masks to go through the tunnel, he had Kahler locate a crate of them through the warehouse’s database. It required a hack into another delivery center’s system, but they managed it.

As they travelled back through the access tunnel, Montgomery questioned Verna on where other survivors may be. Back in the garage, he organized the rescue of the humans in the outlying survey posts and sent the children and Verna up with the first shuttle. By the time the last shuttle left, frost was forming on the trees. They could only pray that they weren’t leaving any live humans behind.

Back on the Sequoia, Montgomery sent his report to his superiors. They sent back their congratulations with orders to return to the nearest Trevan spaceport to refuel, debrief, and unload the refugees. It would be a few days of travel. Hopefully they will be able to keep the children distracted from remembering too much of what they saw.

The Path of Destruction Collection - Life Interrupted

2011-12-10T10:12:10Z

Deborah Roberts took a break from her work to have lunch with her twelve year old daughter, Shannon. It was a weekly tradition for the two of them to have a “girls only” lunch. Her husband Mike suggested it a few years ago when her realized that his little girl was approaching puberty and he hoped it would give Shannon a chance to ask her mother delicate questions without Dad being around. To keep it from looking like he was distancing himself from her, they had their own father-daughter lunch in between the mother-daughter ones. It seemed silly to Deborah at the time, but now she appreciated the opportunity to have a closer relationship with her daughter.

On the Terraforming Research Center on Malfina IV, education was mostly self-paced for the children, with weekly group activities. Because of the secured nature of the station, children were allowed free playtime, as long as they stayed in certain areas. Of course, children being children, they often found other areas to play in, such as the food supply warehouse, with its tunnels for the robotic distribution system. By all rights, Deborah should report her daughter’s unauthorized activities in the tunnels; however, she had already had a casual conversation with the engineer in charge of the system and he found it as amusing as she did. He reasoned that if they kept the children from doing it, they would only find someplace else more dangerous to secretly play in. So, instead, he programed his robots to recognize the children and keep an eye on them. So, while the children thought they were getting away with not being supervised, in reality, they were actually more supervised than if they played in the designated play dome and botanical gardens.

Considering Deborah’s childhood history of getting into everything and anything, she was getting off rather easily on the subject. So, instead of scolding her daughter, they shared their adventure stories with each other, with the provision that neither Dad nor Grandma be told. She still warned Shannon to be careful, using her old scars as evidence of what happens when someone isn’t careful.

“Mom, do we have an old blanket I can use?” Shannon asked.

“What for, sweetheart?”
“We found this empty room in the warehouse tunnels that the robots don’t use and we want to make it our secret club house.”

“I think we might have one,” Deborah said. “I’ll check later.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Shannon stared at her food and poked at it some.

“Is there something else, kitten?”

“Heidi says I will have to go to boarding school next year, like Kevin did,” she said.

“Your father and I weren’t planning on it,” Deborah said. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” her daughter said. “I want to stay here.”

“Well, as long as you keep your studies up, you won’t need to go to a boarding school, unless you want to. Kevin’s mom said he wanted to go away to school so he could be around more kids his age.”

“Kevin liked telling us younger kids that we were babies,” Shannon scoffed. “He didn’t like the fact that I could beat him in arm wrestling.”

Deborah held in her chuckle. “Well, until you’re ready to go to college, your father and I want to keep you around. Not sure why,” she said, winking, “but we do.”

Shannon smile and ate her remaining lunch with gusto. Soon she was off again and Deborah returned to research. One of her simulations was about to be completed, when a power surge hit the system, followed by a sonic blast. Deborah plugged her ears. When it stopped, she found that the research center had switched to its shielded backup system. She contacted her husband through a direct line.

“What happened, Mike? I thought was had created enough of an atmosphere to protect from solar flares.”

“Solar flares don’t have sonic blasts, Deb,” he said. “We’re pretty certain it’s an EMP from some ships that just appeared in orbit.”

“Trevan ships?” she asked, after all the two human civilizations had been at each other’s throats for centuries.

“No, not Trevan. We think they may be Cygtan ships?”

Great, Deborah thought to herself, we’re being attacked by the relatives of Jiminy Cricket. Out loud, she said, “Do we know that they want?”

“They aren’t answering our hails,” Mike said. “You might want to find Shannon and get her some place safe.”

Deborah ran back to their home. Of course, Shannon wasn’t there. She checked the play dome and the other official play spots for the children. Then she went to the food warehouse and found the engineer who maintained the robots.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Roberts,” he said. “I hadn’t bothered to shield the newer robots due to the cost. I think I might know where the kids are, but I can’t get a working robot there because there’s an out of commission one blocking the way.”

“Shannon mentioned finding an empty room that the robots didn’t go into. Do you know what she was talking about?”

The engineer nodded his head. “It’s one of the seed storage bays, where we kept our starter ground cover seeds until we had our soil stabilized. Unless you’re a robot, you’d have to crawl to get to it.”

“Can you show me how to get there?” she asked.

“Follow me.”

The engineer ran through the main warehouse to a corridor of storage rooms, with robot tunnels after every fifth door. Two thirds down the corridor, he got on his hands and knees and began to crawl into the tunnel. Deborah crawled behind him. In front of them was the stalled robot the engineer was talking about. The engineer pushed it to a junction. They took another tunnel. Then they came to a vertical tunnel with a ladder next to the rail the robots used. The engineer climbed down.

“Even with robots, we have to have human access to these bays,” he said. They went down two floors and into another tunnel. Then they found seven children. Shannon was the oldest one there.

“Thank God, you’re safe,” Deborah sighed, as she sat against the bay wall.

“Mom, is something wrong?” Shannon asked.

“Yes. Something is very wrong, but we’re going to go to a safe place now.”

The children followed the two adults. As they were about to leave the tunnel, they could hear the sounds of clicking and chirping. The engineer motioned them to stay put and walked down the corridor. They heard him greet someone, followed by his screams and the sickening sounds of bones breaking. In a low, panicked, whisper, Deborah told the children to go back to their secret room. As the children were climbing down the ladder, she could hear the chirping echoing through the tunnels.

She spun around, seeing the defunct robot and her daughter’s head waiting for her to come.

“Shannon,” Deborah said, “keep the other children safe. You know these tunnels. I’m going to lead them away from here. Once they’re gone, I’ll send someone to get you. But right now, I need to block that shaft you’re in.”

Shannon nodded and climbed down. Deborah went back to the junction and pushed the robot through the corridor. She tried to see around the robot, but couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the robot down the shaft. There were only the echoes of metal on concrete. Assured she hadn’t squashed her daughter, Deborah began climbing up the shaft. She made it to the catwalk over the main hanger. The site below her was horrible. She was running across the catwalk towards a control room, when the plasma blasts hit around her. By the time Deborah Roberts hit the ground, she was already dead.

The Path of Destruction - Denizens of the Dark

2011-12-10T09:49:46Z

Had the Cygtans just landed on Gratothian 6, the Thixian population would have probably ignored them for several weeks and went about their normal lives in the deep underground cave/city complex. However, having decided on a procedure for invading other planets, the Cygtans first did an electromagnetic pulse (which had no effect on the underground complexes) followed by a sonic blast (which gave several technicians headaches). Even then, the Thix did not recognize the Cygtans’ hostile intent. Photon-dependent beings were always a little unhinged in their opinion.

So when the first Cygtan shuttles landed, a delegation of Thix was waiting to greet them and to inquire the purpose behind the unannounced visit, wearing special suits and goggles to protect them from the abundance of light. These individuals were immediately beheaded and eaten. The Thix responded by sealing their cities and sending out inquiries to explain this extremely anti-social act.

The responses did not give the reasons for the hostile acts, but they did give evidence as to how wide-spread the Cygtan aggression was. The Thix watched in confused horror as video streams from the Humans and Jaspins, modified for Thixian eyes, showed the mindless hunger of Cygtans eating everything in their way. Reports from other Thix worlds confirmed this behavior.

The Thixian xenobiologists were ordered to meet and discuss the situation. Comparing earlier reports of Cygtan behavior and physical appearance to the most recent, it was unanimously decided that the Cygtans were experiencing a biological change. One scientist suggested spraying them with oxytocin, but was quickly reminded that only mammals responded to that chemical.

“Well, that explains why the Humans and Jaspins are so willing to cooperate with each other on this matter,” another one muttered.

“It won’t last,” said a third xenobiologist by the name of Margez. “There are other chemicals in their systems that will counteract it all sooner or later.”

Lactin, the head xenobiologist, gave an exasperated snort. “We are not here to talk about the Humans and Jaspins,” he reminded them. “We’re here to talk about the Cygtans. At the moment, our military is dealing with them as if they are non-sentient beings. We need to find a way to save them from themselves.”

“Why don’t we plunge them into darkness?” Margez asked.

“Are you suggesting that they are the way they are because they aren’t living a Thixian lifestyle?” Lactin asked.

“No, not at all,” said Margez. “But photon-dependent creatures often experience a slowdown in their biological processes when they don’t get enough light. Maybe it would decrease their hunger and their aggression.”

“A drop in temperature might do something similar,” another scientist added. “Cygtans are cold blooded, after all.”

“Unfortunately, if we plunged the surface of this planet into a dark coldness, we will be risking the established ecology on it,” Lactin pointed out. “Just as surely as if we leave the Cygtans to continue their unchecked consuming.”

“Maybe we can create a weapon that can localize the effect, causing minimal damage to the surroundings?”

Lactin nodded gravely. “I will give our suggestion to the engineers.”

When the xenobiologists met the next day, Lactin gave them the bad news. The military leaders felt it was more effective just the kill the Cygtans and blow up their ships, than to attempt to reverse the change in them. The leaders did thank them for suggesting it would be easier to attack the Cygtans at night.

“They don’t believe we can make it happen,” he summarized.

“Is there any way we could capture a Cygtan and see if it works?” Margez asked.

“It would be a very dangerous thing to do,” Lactin said.

“But don’t you think for the sake of science, morality, and civilization, we should try?”

“If you can come up with a safe way to capture a crazed Cygtan, then I’m all for it,” Lactin said. “But for now, I am going to take a pain reliever and get rid of this headache.”

Try as he might, Margez could not find a way to get past their own military, much less how to capture a Cygtan. He did come up with another idea, though. Maybe they could hack into the Cygtan ships’ programing and change the climate controls. When the Thixian military finally boarded the enemy ship in orbit, he examined the suspended animation pods and realized that cold and darkness would not reverse the change in the Cygtans – it would only preserve them until they could strike again.

Dejected, he sat in a bar, drinking lichen ale. After the fourth mug, Lactin sat down next him.

“You know,” Margez said, staring into his drink, “you were right. I was thinking that if they lived more like us, they would be more civilized. I just didn’t want to admit it. I figured since I had a plausible reason why it might work, I knew the truth. But I was wrong.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Lactin said. “Just because you were off on the details, doesn’t mean your idea was a bad one. We just need to do more research first.”

“Like go to one of their worlds and examine them?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of stealing their own medical research records.”

“A bit unethical, don’t you think,” Marges said, his voice slurring.

“We’ll let the Jaspins get it,” Lactin suggested. “They consider thorough curiosity a virtue. Besides, they and Humans have already agreed to share any intelligence they have on the Cygtans.”

“Are Humans just as bad?”

“They’re a close second, but then we have our fair share of it too,” Lactin said. “All sentient beings do. Just remember to keep a sense of humor when they say things like ‘we don’t want to keep you in the dark’.”

Margez laughed. “Photon-lovers. They’re just as biased as we are.”

Path of Destruction collection - We Mammals Need to Stick Together

2011-12-10T09:44:32Z

Holding his remote with his tail, Merl flipped through the Cygtan channels on his video screen. Being a Jaspin, none of the programming was created with his tastes in mind, but when you are working a remote communication booster station on the edge of civilization, you need some sort of hobby to keep you sane. Merl’s hobby was boosting and unscrambling the public broadcasts of nearby alien species. He found the Human shows more entertaining, partially because being fellow mammals there was more to relate to, and partially because there was a Human asteroid mining research station not too far away, with Humans willing to discuss the shows with him. Some of them even liked watching popular Jaspin shows. Raal thought it was a waste of resources to boost the channels for the Humans, but their commander approved of the cultural exchange and encouraged Merl to practice his foreign language skills.

Human speech wasn’t that hard. It was more of a matter of not adding too many verbal flourishes to the words. Cygtan speech was more problematic. They spoke with more than just their mouths; they also used leg-wing stridulations. Merl could read the written language, but he could only make out some of the spoken stuff. Not that it seemed to matter. For the past year, Cygtan entertainment had progressed from a relatively normal mix of drama, editorials, information shows, etc. to shows almost exclusively featuring sex and violence – and eating. Food preparation shows still aired, but they too seemed more violent and impatient.

“It’s like they’re imploding intellectually,” he muttered to himself, before switching to his favorite Jaspin action show. Behind him Yayla laughed.

“You’re so funny when you’re being hypocritical,” she said, pulling a chair up next to him. “You gripe about the Cygtans imploding intellectually and then watch this stuff full of ‘shoot first; then think’ idiots.”

“Everything in moderation, Yayla. Even gore,” he said.

“I wonder what changed for them.”

“Beats me,” Merl shrugged. “I don’t understand enough of the language to figure out the newscasts.”

“Then why don’t you just download a translator application,” she said. “They do exist for Cygtans, you know.”

“Because it takes away the challenge.”

Yayla laughed again. “Men.”

Merl changed the subject. “Anything interesting on your shift?”

“We’re getting some unaccounted for signal disruptions, but nothing we couldn’t adjust for. The commander has already recorded it in his daily report,” she said. “We’re supposed to pay extra attention to them for the next day at least.”

“Probably some stellar activity we hadn’t caught wind of,” Merl said. “I wonder if Kervin and his gang have noticed it.”

“You speak Human better than the rest of us,” Yayla said. “Why don’t you find out?”

Merl would have teased her about using a translator application, except he wanted to talk to his Human friends. He and Yayla went to the office, where Raal was doing his shift, and sat at an open comm station. Extending his retractable claws, Merl typed in the coded frequency for the Human research outpost.

A dark hair Human came into view. “Hi, Merl,” he said in his native language. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, Tom,” he said. “We were just wondering if you have noticed anything unusual of late.”

“You mean the signal disruptions,” Tom said nodding his head. “Yeah, we’ve noticed them. Do you have any idea what is causing them?”

“Not a clue.”

“Well, that makes two of us. We haven’t figured out what causing it either.”

Merl nodded his head. “Is Kervin around?”

“Sorry, Merl, Jim is doing some testing now.”

Merl thanked the Human communications operator and ended the call. Over his shoulder, Raal asked, “If you are such good friends with Dr. Kervin, why don’t you call him by his intimate name?”

“Kervin is more fun to say than Jim,” Merl answered. “Besides, he doesn’t mind either way. It’s only when I put ‘Doctor’ in front of it that it becomes a formal address.” Then he added, “Your grasp of Human is improving.”

Raal chuckled, “Shouldn’t you be calling it ‘_Solarian Prime_’? Humans have more than one language, after all.”

“Oh!” Merl exclaimed. “Someone has been doing some serious studying.”

“You like entertainment. I like history books,” Raal answered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Yayla grabbed Merl’s arm. “We better go,” she said. “You know how hard it is for Raal to multi-task.”

They both managed to duck the cup thrown at them.

Merl relieved Raal after a restful sleep. The disruptions had been occurring more frequently. But it doesn’t hurt to have a change of pace, now and then. Halfway through his shift, Merl had gotten the hang of adjusting the signals to the point of being second nature. It was then when a high priority distress call came from the nearest Jaspin world, Naraan. Merl routed to all the necessary channels and began recording all other messages to resend after the priority ones came through. The signal traffic was too heavy to actually listen to the messages. In frustration, he hit the station alarm and work furiously to get the signals through, while his fellow comm operators came into the room to help out.

“What’s happening?” Yayla asked.

“I don’t know yet,” he told her. “I got one high priority distress call and then everything else went crazy.”

Yayla was already helping with the extra traffic, when Raal came in, rubbing his eyes. Before sitting at a comm center, he answered a call from the commander. Merl and Yayla were too busy to see the shock on his face. Finally, the call ended and Raal took a deep breath.

“We’ve been ordered to go silent,” he said. “The Cygtans tried to knock out our defenses on Naraan. Luckily, the planetary defense satellites were able to damage the electro-magnetic pulse cannon before it could be fired. The invading ship was repelled, but not before it knocked out some of the energy grid with some plasma shots. They think the ship is now heading in our direction. The commander wants us to go as dark as possible.”

The three of them began shutting down auxiliary systems, while mainframe performed a backup of its data. While they sat in the dim light, a thought occurred to Merl.

“Shouldn’t we warn the Humans?” he asked.

“I’m sure the commander has taken care of that,” Yayla said. “Besides, you don’t survive to be an interstellar race without knowing that you shouldn’t engage in a two front war.”

“Well, the ship might be desperate,” Raal said. “But I can’t see them going for it. It’s on an airless planetoid. They would need special equipment to breach the building, without losing the atmosphere.”

Merl took a deep breath and remained quiet, letting all the flaws he saw in his coworkers arguments go unspoken, because there really wasn’t anything they could do about the situation. Thinking about it only made him feel worse. He concentrated instead on the fact that Naraan was able to repel the Cygtans. Maybe the research outpost could-

Merl stopped himself again. A research station doesn’t usually have the same defenses as a planet. Without saying a word, he went to a comm and activated it.

“What are you doing?” Raal asked.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Raal cursed. “Well, if you’re going to warn them, then use a text message. It will take less power and not be as noticeable to the Cygtans. Let me at the comm.”

Raal typed a cryptic message on the screen and sent it. Merl looked at him strangely, as he shut the comm off.

“What does ‘doing a pearl harbor’ mean?” he asked.

“I told you I liked history,” Raal said. “It’s a reference to a sneak attack during a war on the Humans’ original home world. It was the first time their race used nuclear weapons. From what I can tell, every Human school child is taught about it.”

They returned to their seats and waited until the commander’s message came. Merl answered it and after receiving the message that they were safe, he asked the commander if it was possible for someone to check on the Human outpost. To Merl’s relief, he agreed. Immediately, he tried to raise the outpost. It was several minutes before his hail was answered. Tom was covered in blood and his skin had a grayish tint it.

“They got in,” he said. “We got your warning, but our mining lasers could only do so much damage to their ship. Merl, the bastards are actually eating us.” Tom turned to show a blood-soaked, impromptu bandage where his arm used to be. “I don’t think I have long to live, but we were able to get some of our people into blast shelters. Please send someone to get us.”

Merl sat there in horror as he watched Tom faint. He could see the door behind the prostrate Human warp and bend under the pressure of something pounding on it. Behind him, Raal was contacting their superiors and pleading for someone to rescue the Humans.

The door on the Human comm room burst open. Merl barely recognized the creature as a Cygtan. Instead of being green or yellow, it was a dark, muddy red. Yayla turned off the screen as it reached for Tom.

“We don’t need to watch that,” she said. “And it’s time for you to get some rest. Take a sedative, Merl.”

Merl stared at the ceiling in his room, waiting for the sedative to kick in, while his mind concocted all sorts of horrors for the Humans on the research station. His sleep was full of bloody Humans being torn apart by black, monstrous bugs. Finally, he saw Jim Kervin trying to get his attention. The sandy haired man was actually shaking-

Merl sat up and rubbed his eyes. Kervin was shaking him. That part wasn’t a dream. “How? Why?” Merl sputtered.

“Your military figured that the Cygtans were planning to refuel at our station, before coming back to attack Naraan with the other ships that arrived later. So, they wanted to destroy it before it could make it. And while they were there, they figured they could at least remove the few of us who survived to a safer place. I suspect they’re going to use our station as a command post, but at the moment, I’m not too upset about that. In the meanwhile, they’re letting us bunk with you guys until arrangement can be made to get us back to Ansharian space.”

The Jaspin gave his Human friend a bear hug. “How many of you were we able to save?” Merl asked.

“Only eight,” Kervin said. “You might want to be glad about that. We’re probably going to be here a while. Rumor has it that the Cygtans are attacking both human civilizations, as well as your own.”

“What possessed them to do that?”

“Based on the reports Yayla’s been getting, I’d say hunger,” Kervin answered. “In every face to face encounter, the Cygtan have tried to eat their victims – even the Jaspin ones. By the way, where did you come up with the idea of referencing World War II? We were lucky that Tom was an ancient military buff.”

“It was Raal’s idea,” he said. “He was under the impression that since it was the first war you Humans used nuclear weapons in, every human would have learned about it in school.”

“Learning and retaining are two different things,” Kervin pointed out. “But I’m glad Raal sent the message. Even without fully understanding the reference, most of us realized it was a warning.”

“Kervin, we saw Tom’s death,” Merl said. “I’m really sorry for the horror you went through.”
Kervin shook his head. “We aren’t the only ones going through this. Merl, the Cygtans’ ships are only skeleton-staffed. Most of the Cygtans are in a state of suspended animation. As soon as they can secure a shuttle landing site, they start waking the sleepers up and transporting them to the surface. They’ll eat just about anything organic. We saw visuals from Howalam. They literally ate trees and wildlife. We’re not talking about a war here. We’re talking about a freakin’ locust swarm.”

Merl hadn’t heard the term “locust” before, but he could make out from the context that it was similar to destructive insect swarms he had read about in school. “They can’t eat all of us,” he said at last. “We’re warm-blooded. We can live in more climates than they can.”

“Let’s hope we can stop them before we have to rely on that advantage,” Kervin said.

Path of Destruction collection - Too Much of a Good Thing

2011-11-30T05:02:52Z

Gautos looked out his window at the teeming street below. Already the shift from green to yellow was occurring in individuals. Almost instinctively, he reached for the medicine bottle on a nearby shelf, but reminded himself that he had already taken his serotonin inhibitor for the day. He forced air out of his spiracles and sat down.

They were in trouble. Normally when a Cygtan world had a population surge, due to favorable incubation conditions, it was just a matter of relocating a portion of the populace to another Cygtan world that was having a population decrease, while enticing those individuals who had become gregarious to take more the more dangerous careers, such as asteroid or gas giant mining. But medical science had experienced several major breakthroughs and now it was possible to ensure the successful incubation of Cygtan eggs, despite a planet’s current climate. There were no planets experiencing a decrease. No place to send Cygtans to thin communities out.

“They don’t remember the Swarms,” he muttered to himself. Truth be told, Gautos had never lived through a Major Swarm, either. But having been part of a gregarious band of nymphs growing up in a neglected part of his birthworld, he had experienced it as much as a modern Cygtan could. Which was why he had studied the history of swarms and the mentality that emerged from the biological changes. When he was younger and more idealistic, Gautos tried to convince people to slow down the incubation process, instead of optimizing it. However, he was considered an alarmist, especially since he had a history of higher than normal paranoid behaviors. Looking back on his solutions, he had to admit there were some major flaws in them. The greatest of which was the fact that several of his methods would have introduced developmental problems.

A few senior academics took him aside and pointed out that with interstellar space travel, there was no need to worry about a population that turned on itself due overpopulation and starvation. There were other worlds to travel too. If it were not for the swarms, the Cygtan Empire would not be as powerful as it was now. Besides, who were they to ignore the destiny written in their biology?

Gautos wanted to screech what it was like to be almost eaten by those you considered friends, but he couldn’t face the shame of admitting how weak he was. Maybe that was the problem - his biology was flawed. He was never really meant to be part of his race. He was a liability. In that case, it didn’t matter if he deliberately messed with his own hormones and neurotransmitters; they were already out of whack. He put his medicine back in its hiding place in his desk. There was no reason for anyone to know that he was deliberately cultivating his idiocrincracies. They would never understand.

Instead he watched the people on the street, keeping track of the change of colors in their exoskeletons. Obsessively, he would monitor his own exoskeleton to see if any green was changing to yellow. He also isolated himself as much as possible to keep the hormone change from being triggered. Intellectually, Gautos knew he was risking depression, but he considered it his mind’s way to keep him from becoming something horrible.

Klalock came to see him after several weeks. His exoskeleton was already yellow and starting to change to orange. Usually a somber fellow, Klalock instead was talking at a happy, fast pace, telling off-colored jokes. In between the jovial comments, he spoke of the Empire’s plans to annex new worlds for colonization.

“Too bad some of the best planets are already inhabited,” he said. “Maybe we could convince the Thix to share their sunny worlds with us. They don’t like light anyway. And as long as they stayed under the ground and we stayed above, they shouldn’t smell too bad. Hey, do you have anything to eat around here?”

Much to Gautos’s dismay, Klalock decided to drop in more and more frequently. Occasionally he would inquire about Gautos’s still green exterior, but was easily distracted by questions on the plans to annex more worlds. As Klalock’s exoskeleton became more dark and redder, so did his sentiments towards the nearby alien races. Instead of wanting to make a deal with the Thix, he thought it was more prudent to conquer the feline Jaspin worlds, since they were closer than the other civilizations.

“Aren’t they rather fierce and strong?” Gautos asked.

“Yeah, and they have retractable claws too,” Klalock admitted, stuffing his mouth with crackers. “But a Cygtan is nothing, if not tough. By the way, you really need to stock your pantry.”

A few weeks later, people no longer milled on the street below. They marched in an orderly precession. When Klalock visited, he was a scarlet color and talked about going after the Human worlds instead.

“Why the Humans?” Gautos asked.

“They are easier to eat,” Klalock explained, while eating directly from the refrigerator. “The Thix smell funny and the Jaspins are more dangerous. If we go for the Humans, we can feed ourselves and then moved into their cities.”

It was then that Gautos knew he could no longer be a Cygtan. How could he be part of a race whose response to overpopulation was to reproduce in even greater numbers and eat everything in sight? Intellectually, he knew it made it easier for his species to colonize other worlds. They could afford the high mortality rate of adjusting to a new climate. But why couldn’t they be like other races that became less fertile as their populations grew? Why hadn’t he bothered to study other species more, instead of fixating on historical swarming behaviors? He contemplated several actions - from spiking the water supplies with serotonin inhibitors to sabotaging a spaceport. But he didn’t have the resources or the means to do these things. What was more, he didn’t have the energy to do it.

A week later, when Klalock came for his now daily visits, his exoskeleton now a dark reddish brown, Gautos numbly sat there as he announced that the Empire had finalized its plans. It would attack all three races. The attack would be coordinated to keep the aliens from alerting the others of the Cygtan threat before it was too late. Klalock was so ravenous that he no longer considered the potential foul smell of the Thix a hurdle to eating them. He left, not even realizing that Gautos had not spoken a word.

Gautos went to his supply of medicine. He put several bottles on his desk and then got a pitcher of water from his kitchen. When Klalock found his dead body the next day, he found seven empty bottles next to it. For a brief moment, the idea of eating his long-time colleague crossed his mind, but then he reminded himself that Gautos’s corpse was probably poisonous. He called law enforcement instead and let them have the honors.

Short Stories, anyone?

2011-11-16T21:30:39Z

For NaNoWriMo this year, a friend and I are writing a collection of short stories for a universe we're planning to write novel together in. We're doing this to work out some of the details of our universe and to give each other background on a lot of characters we can use.

So far, I have written eight stories for this universe. At the moment, I am posting them on:

The Short Stories of A.D. Barncordon

I will come back and post them here too, in December. It's just easier to post on Google+ for me, since I don't have to log out of my main account to go to my writing section.

A silly little story done in Powerpoint

2011-08-21T20:32:58Z

https://docs.google.com/present/view?id=dgkm873z_304fk6v56k7

The video I tried to embed in the story:

I'm too tired to remember how I got my other powerpoints to embed right now. After several failed attempts, it's time to just give you the parts and go take a nap.

For a friend :D

2011-08-21T10:30:02Z

And the original song it came from:

Mark³ - Chapter 3

2011-08-20T11:21:12Z

In theory, a psychologist should be able to handle uncertainty and stress better than a lay person. Or at the very least, make rational decisions about their lives. In truth, we can be just as irrational as the next person under the right circumstances. And living as a persona non-grata in a hotel was apparently the right situation to undermine my better judgement. Not even writing articles helped my need for action. Kell suggested that maybe all I needed was more social interaction. But the nightmares were increasing and for each person I met, I began calculating the increase of the odds of them becoming a victim of Gamma, just because they had some connection to me. The fact he had killed twice more did nothing for my peace of mind.

In short, the paranoia was getting to me and while on one level I was aware of what I was doing was wrong, on another level, I wanted nothing more than to get my old life back. I tried to temper this with some common sense. I asked myself questions such as: "How would I try to find Gamma?" and "What would I do if I did find him?"

I had some success with the first question until about a month ago, when all the leads Alpha and I started to come up completely empty. Alpha believed that Gamma apparently figured where our convergences were and was avoiding anything we might also know about. However, I believed that sooner or later, Gamma would return to one of the key places. Serial killers were creatures of habit, after all. They had signatures and rituals. At least Gamma did. The problem was we were in the wrong world to do a psychological work-up on him.

I needed to convince Alpha to help me. I needed him to go back to Gamma's world and help me find out all we could on him. I planned my proposal. I began to pitch my idea to him, but he beat me to the punch.

"Beta," he said, "it's a great idea except for one thing--in Gamma's world we'd be arrested for his murders."

"There has to be a way we can avoid being captured while getting information on him," I insisted.

"Plastic surgery?" he suggested.

"I'm serious."

"Then why don't we find someone else to do the research for us?" Alpha asked.

"Like who?" I asked.

"One of the grad students at the university wants to try my machine," he explained. "You make a list of what we should check into and he can try to find the information."

Later that week found us sneaking into the university in the early hours of the morning. As I was explaining to Tim Johnson, the grad student eager to go on this mission, what would help us track Gamma down, the door to the storage room Alpha had been using gently opened. From it appeared the FBI agent who had originally inquired about my history for the same reason.

"If you're going to go to this much trouble to get the information on Gamma, don't you think you should send an expert?" she asked. "Hi, I'm Jenna Wilson," she said to Tim. "How good are you at hacking into computers?"

Tim's face struggled for a moment. "Well," he said, "I don't actually hack. I'm just good at getting them to do what I want."

"I'll go with you," Alpha stated. "I can probably hack into what you need. Besides, it's my machine and no one knows how to work it better than me. Tim will be my back-up."

"And what am I supposed to do while you are away?" I asked.

"Visit your parents," Jenna said. "Agent Greenbaum is waiting outside to take you there. I called him as soon as I realized what you were doing."

"And your superiors are okay with this?" Alpha asked.

"Oh, they will be when they see our information," she said.

And this is where the plot bunny looks up at me and says, "Aren't you going to do more with me?"

Me: "No, because I don't know which way I want to take this and I'm too worn out to be as clever as I want to be with it."

Plot Bunny: "Pu-pu-pu-please?"

Me: "Oh, for heaven's sake, don't go all Roger Rabbit on me. It's not going to help matters. By all rights, I should just give you to someone else to work with."

Plot Bunny: "But I came to you!"

Me: "And reading over what I've written, you or I need to age more before I can go forward. So, stop bugging me."

Plot Bunny: *sniff!* "But I don't want to wait!"

Me: "Tough cookies, carrot cake."

Mark³ - Chapter 2

2011-08-19T18:17:07Z

Alpha spent most of Sunday in a drug-facilitated sleep at my suggestion. Ted had convinced my own physician, Dr. Berger, to examine both of us outside his normal hours. The good doctor found the similarities between us mind-boggling. Up until the moment I chose to be a psychologist and Alpha decided to be a physicist, our histories were identical. We had the same childhood scars and ailments. Even after that fateful decision, our medical health varied very little. Dr. Berger gave me a prescription to deal with the stress, if I needed it.

In an effort to secure Alpha's portal, the FBI was called in. It was Ted's call and he trusted the bureau more than the CIA or other agency. Of course, this lead to me being interrogated, since Alpha was sleeping off his exhaustion. Convinced that I was who I said I was, they promised to return later that evening to talk with Alpha.

Kell was brought over later to share the results of her evaluation. Like the medical exam, the similarities were striking. However, I have gained more confidence and social integration over the years, as well as more control over my anxieties. But most importantly, I was certain that the self with me was not Gamma the serial killer. This also made the FBI a little less jumpy. To keep us from being confused with the other, RFID chips were implanted on our hands.

Alpha was then interrogated. It was after midnight before the FBI was done with him. Personally I had a bad feeling about involving them, but Ted and I had gone back a long ways. He felt it was his duty to involve the Feds and I knew nothing I said would change that. However, I was wondering when that involvement would include the Department of Defense. Perhaps I had watched too many movies, but the whole idea scared me almost more than being brutally slaughtered by another version of myself. Alpha took it philosophically, though. He said if allowing a serial killer to enter a country wasn't a threat to national defense, what was? I told him an army and pointed out that we already had serial killers around--one more wasn't going to topple our way of living. He said that the portal couldn't be made large enough for anything more than a few people to get through. Then he asked me if I really believed my country would really want to go to the trouble to invade another universe. I realized that under the circumstances, I was overreacting and forced myself to go to sleep.

Ted let us sleep in. While Alpha talked with the physicist, I talked with another FBI agent who thought since Alpha and my childhoods were very similar, perhaps there was some areas of convergence between Gamma and me. She was a polite, middle aged woman, who smiled a lot. I pointed out that Gamma probably had an emotional distant mother, unlike myself. However, she pointed out that there were things that happened to me that wouldn't have been a result of my mother. I scanned my memory for things that could be related to my stomach, since that appeared to be the focus of Gamma's rage. I listed times I had a bad bout of the stomach flu and other damage to the area. Still, as I explained to her, the stomach was a good place for an abuser to strike at without it being too obvious. We continued with my history, though, just in case there was something there to work from.

Alpha's interview with Dr. Layton Garrett went well. It also had a surreal feel to it for Alpha. He came across the alternate versions of his friends and coworkers. Even some of his students. When I asked about Dr. Garrett, Alpha gave me a rueful smile and said, "It was probably the most civil conversation we've had with each other in years. And this one actually believes my theories. Of course, I now have proof that I'm right."

"So Ted and the Feds are convinced that you are legit?" I asked.

"That they are. The university is planning to fight the government for my machine, so it won't be taken off campus."

I stood there stunned for a moment. It hadn't occurred to me where Alpha's machine would likely be. Surely he had mentioned it while talking to the FBI agents and Ted. Though, I wasn't present for all of the interviews. But I was there for a great deal of the time.

"Beta, are you all right?" Alpha asked.

"I just realized that I don't remember hearing where your machine was before." I laughed. "It's probably stress getting to the ol' short term memory."

He laughed also. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It gets to me too."

I felt some relief at the statement, but only some. Granted it was prefectly understandable that my ego defenses would kick in under these bizarre circumstances. However, under the same circumstances, I couldn't afford to let those defenses endanger my life. I called Kell's cell phone and discussed it with her. She gently hinted that my anxiety disorder was being triggered and that I should just relax and let law enforcement do their jobs. She assured me that all of us were as safe as possible at the moment.

And she was right, we were safe. For two weeks, Alpha and I stayed in our hotel room and did our best to keep our sanity. Occassionally Ted would tell us some of the leads they had on Gamma. He had tried to get into my bank account, but disappeared when the teller told him it was frozen. He was also spotted at my office, as well as several other favorite haunts of mine. At least I had the comfort of knowing that some sort of tab was being kept on him.

But all that went away when the police found the teller who had refused Gamma entry into my accounts, killed in a way similar to what Alpha had described. He not only killed her, but stole her purse. Contacting her credit card company, they found that her card had been used to purchase a bus ticket to my hometown. I cursed myself for not considering the fact that Gamma's anger towards his parents could easily be transferred to my own. The FBI assured me that they would keep my parents safe and have agents scouring the town for Gamma. My--our--hometown would be a target-rich base for him.

It grated on me worse than Alpha. After all, it wasn't his parents Gamma was going after. Also, with confirmation that Gamma was out of town, he was being allowed to work on his machine to see how Gamma managed to piggy-back along. His conversations were peppered with terms I had only cursory knowledge of. Kell suggested that I do a "Viktor Frankl" as she put it--recording and examining my own experiences as a type of research. I decided instead to ask for a university account and do research on serial killers and twins separated at birth. Some of the data I was already familiar with, but I hadn't looked at it from quite the viewpoint I was looking at it now.

I stared out window. The heat of August bent the air and distorted the view of buildings and streets. I finally asked myself the question I should have asked weeks back--where would I hide out if I was Gamma? I imagined myself, rejected and unwanted since a child. I thought of the places around my hometown I used to hang out at as a kid. In distant memory, I remembered an old, tiny, rotted wood house far down the small river my friends and I used to play at. Though we liked making up stories about it, we only once bothered to hike to it. However, to someone who had no friends and only wanted some place to themselves, it wouldn't have been that much trouble to go to.

I called Ted and told him about the place. It only took a few hours to confirm that I was right. However, Gamma had slipped into the woods and out of their hands. I tried for a repeat performance, but Gamma's later life diverged too much from mine. Alpha only could add that he had said something about spending a lot of his time travelling. And so I found myself a prisoner for not only my own safety, but my future freedom. As I began to write up an article to submit for peer review, I could only pray that Gamma was found before too long.

Mark³ - Chapter 1

2011-08-19T01:18:11Z

Quantum mechanics says that every possible action happens. That there are many alternate universes where alternates of ourselves have made decisions or lived differently than the one we are in now. At one time, I fantasized about finding an alternate universe where I would feel less of a freak because of my more unusual quirks. But what right have I to take another self's place? While there was probably better lives for me, there were also worse ones. In the end, I decided to forgo the physics degree and go for a psychology degree. After all, there was more than one way to deal with feelings of alienation.

Looking back now, I should have taken physics more serious. For although I had chose not to work towards creating a way to travel to other alternate universes for such an idealistic and foolish reason, in another universe, I did.

Call me Mark Beta. "Alpha" is the guy who was simultaneously smart enough to create a portal to other universes and stupid enough to actually believe he could make himself and his alternate selves all happy by shuffling them around. I came up with the designations. Mark Alpha thought it was because I am a humble fellow. Truth is--there is no way in any universe I want someone to think that I was the idiot who created this mess.

Mark Alpha first visited on a crisp, sunny October day, two years ago. I was in my study, taking care of bills, while the smell of autumn wafted its way through the open window. Instead of using the front door, he had decided it would be less noted by the neighbors if he hailed me through there. Looking out, I saw a thinner, more rumpled version of myself with a very large grin. I briefly wondered for a moment if I actually looked that goofy to other people.

"Hi, Mark!" he waved. "I'm you from another universe."

"You're what?"

"Well, you see in Quantum mechanics-"

"I know," I said, "everything thing happens. I once considered going into physics so I could travel to other universes, but decided against it."

His smile got bigger as he said, "Well, I'm the you that did it. Can I come inside? This conversation might get a bit weird if it's overheard by someone else."

With a sinking feeling in my stomach I went to my kitchen and let him through the backdoor. He asked if he could help himself to something from my refrigerator, stating that he hadn't eaten since morning. "Been trying to find you," he said.

"Please tell me that you didn't do this for the reason I almost did," I pleaded as I got some dishes from the cupboard. "I had this foolish idea that if I moved my alternate selves to universes more suited to them, we all could be happy."

"You don't think it's a good idea," he said, looking stunned.

"I think it's a horrible idea. First, happiness is not a situation, it's a state of mind. Second, there are too many variables to consider. Third, you would never be able to visit everyone and determined who would be happier where before you died. Fourth, some of your alternates would live in situations that no one would be happy in. Who would you switch them with? Then there is the fact that it won't only be our choices that determine things, but our parents and other ancestors. What about those universes where our cognitive and emotional development were adversely affected? You and I might be decent enough fellows, but somewhere there are versions of us that are unstable or even dangerous. And some of those may be clever enough to fool you before showing their true colors. Would you really want to be responsible for unleashing a monstrous version of us on an unsuspecting world?"

He stared at me, speechless. I pulled out some chips from the pantry. "Here," I said, "let me feed you and give you a chance to rest. You're probably tired from searching this world for me."

After eating several bites of his sandwich in silence, he looked up at me. "That's why you became a psychologist, isn't it? To find happiness without physics."

I nodded. "I think I've succeeded pretty well, too."

"So, what do you do in your work?" he asked.

"Mostly I attend to my private practice," I said. "On occasion I help out with a difficult case in a hospital psych ward. And every so often I am asked to do a competency evaluation on a criminal suspect before they go to trial."

"Have you met a lot of those monsters you were talking about?"

"I've come across several very disagreeable people and some real jerks, but I've only dealt with one person I would call a 'monster'. One is enough. I hope I never meet another person like him."

"Especially one that looks like you," he surmised, eyeing his sandwich again.

"Exactly."

We spent the rest of the evening pleasantly and he went home the following morning. Somewhere in the realms of possibilities, he considered my words and changed his goals. Somewhere, he convinced me to help him. But in the possibility branch I was in, he decided not to let my arguments sway him and I did not budge. Of course, it would be another two years before I found that out.

This time is was on a warm summer Saturday morning. He knocked on the kitchen door and joined me for breakfast. His demeanor was one of anxiety and desperation, but he ate heartily. He looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept well in days. Several days' worth of beard growth was on his jaw. I asked what was wrong.

"You were right," he said. "We do have a monster self out there."

"Did you honestly think it was beyond the realms of possibility?" I asked. Of course I knew the answer. Most people are very uncomfortable with the idea that the possibility of evil exists inside them. Some are so uncomfortable with it that they deny or justify their own actions and do even more evil. "Well," I added, "at least you got away from him."

His face twisted in anguish. "I don't think I have," he said in a low voice.

"What do you mean?"

"He's been following me. Three universes so far. I'm not sure how he's doing it, but it's my fault. You were also right about not being able to tell at first. I thought he was a great guy and even explained some of my work to him. Then I found out that he was wanted by the police on suspicion of being a serial killer."

"You didn't help him get away, did you?" I asked.

"No!" he insisted. "At least not intentionally. He disappeared soon after the news report and I left for another universe so I wouldn't get arrested for what he had done. I found a version of us who was happily married with four children. I was just shaking off the sickening feeling I had in my gut when I found that the monster us had killed the happy us and brutally murdered the whole family. Mark, what he did to their bodies was horrible. He almost killed me too, but I got away. This time, I went to a universe where we were in the military. He got that version too."

"This is getting too confusing," I said. "Why don't we make some designation to keep everyone straight. You can be Mark 'Alpha'. I'll be Mark 'Beta' and we'll call the sadistic serial killer 'Gamma'. The victim selves we'll just number. So why did you come to me?"

"I didn't know anyone else who might be able to out-think Gamma," he stated. "You've dealt with abnormal minds. Maybe if you can't stop him, you can help me delay him until I can find out how he is following me."

A very unsettling feeling was settling into my own stomach. What if the self before me wasn't really Alpha, but Gamma? What if Alpha had told Gamma about me and I was now his latest prey? It made more sense than Gamma figuring out a way to follow Alpha. How could I be sure? The first thing that came to mind right then was Hare's Psychopathy Checklist-Revised, but these were hardly the conditions to conduct such an assessment in. Taking a deep mental breath, I calmed my panic and approached this like an interview. A subtle one, but one none the less.

"How did you get away from him the first time?" I asked with a composure I didn't feel.

The look of horror and paleness of his face made me feel a little better. He gulped and said, "I was calling 911, when he came at me with a knife. I was able to dodge him and ran back into the living room." Alpha began to sob and giggle at the same time. "He slipped on the viscera he had spread on the floor earlier as I ran out the door."

I watched as Alpha hid his face in his hands and shook. He wasn't putting on an act. I had my answer faster than I expected, but I was still faced with a threat to my own safety.

"How long do you think we have until he finds us?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but I figure it will be a few hours before he'll be able to track you down."

"Did he kill Victim 2 immediately?"

"No, he waited about a week," Alpha told me.

"Makes sense," I said. "Serial killers act deliberately. He'll want to observe his victims so he can control the whole process."

"But he's killing versions of himself."

"Why not?" I ask. "I doubt he likes himself much and psychopaths don't mind hurting themselves to achieve their goals. If anything, he probably resents the alternate selves who have lived better lives than him. He'll want to feel superior to the rest of us."

"Are you saying that he will want to travel through the universes, killing all the versions of himself he can?" Alpha asked.

"It is a very likely possibility," I answered. "But look on the bright side, he'll want to keep you alive for a while so he can find those others."

"Until he figures out how to use my machine by himself."

"Well, that is something to consider," I admitted. "Meanwhile, we do have some time to work in. And I am not without friends." My calm belied the terror in the back of my mind, but already a plan for my--our--survival was forming. I had contacts in law enforcement, I had savings I could access, and I had Alpha to help prove that I wasn't completely insane. I excused myself and went to my study to make a few calls, glancing surreptitiously out the window while I explained the situation to Detective Ted James.

"He says he's your alternate self from another universe?" Ted asked, not entirely convinced.

"You can always check our fingerprints," I suggested.

"That wouldn't necessarily prove anything," he said. "Only the general pattern is inherited. But still, if he's say there is a threat to you, we better take it seriously. But I will only leave him free if you get a colleague to do a psych work-up for you."

"Fair enough," I said.

"Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes to get a statement from him."

After Ted hung up, I called Dr. Kelli Fenton. "Kell? I need a major favor from you," I said.

"Sure. What is it?" she asked.

"I need a full psych evaluation of someone who is almost exactly like me. I'll pay for your time, but I need you to do it as soon as possible."

"You have a doppelganger?" she said.

"You might say that," I said. "In fact, I might have another one too according to him."

"Have you called the police?'

"A detective is on his way to my home as we speak."

"Let me pick up the tests from my office," she said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

I explained the situation to Alpha. He was actually relieved to hear that he was to undergo a full psychological exam. He was beginning to doubt his own sanity. As he gave Ted the full gory details of the attacks on Victim 1 and family and Victim 2, I took notes on the similarities between the two crimes. Both happened around a meal time. Both involved disembowelments and spreading the viscera over and around the victims. Unfortunately, Alpha couldn't tell us how the victims were first killed, only that Gamma charged at him with a knife. Kell came in midway of Ted's interrogation. She quietly sat against the kitchen wall and observed Alpha. After suggesting he have something for lunch, she gently led him back to my study and conducted her evaluations. She assured Ted that she would not be in danger from Alpha, but that didn't stop him from waiting in the living room, where he could hear if something happened. I warned the detective that her tests would take several hours.

"Good," Ted said. "In that time, I should be able to find a safe place to keep both of you while I try to find your Gamma-guy. I'm also going to see if I can get someone from the university's physics department to check out Alpha's story on the scientific level."

I picked out a novel to distract myself with, while Ted made calls and Kell tested Alpha. After some phone tag, Ted was able to set up an appointment with physicist Dr. Layton Garrett on Monday afternoon. Ever paranoid, Ted not only found a place for Alpha and I to stay, but a place for Kell too. I went through my refrigerator and took stock of my perishables, before fixing dinner for all of us. Kell and Alpha walked out as I was making a salad. Alpha sat in a chair, obviously exhausted.

"I'll have to go back to my office and finish scoring the tests, but so far he looks harmless and truthful," she said.

"Let me call you an escort after dinner then," Ted said.

Kell stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "All right. Better safe than sorry."

"We'll be moving you to some place safe too," he added.

"I'll call my receptionist to have her cancel my appointments for next week. I don't want any of my clients to become a secondary target."

I wondered at Kell's statement. By all accounts, only Alpha and I had any real reason to be worried about Gamma. But then, she was dealing with a cognitive improbability. It would be unethical to treat clients while her own mind was in a state of disarray. I decided that I would have probably done the same thing in her shoes. Though maybe not for a week. Probably two days instead. I looked at Ted, with his jaw set and face etched with determination. Of course, I would tell him a week, just to get him to relax some. Then I would talk him out of it. However, in my situation I was going to have to cancel and start referring my clients for at least two weeks, maybe longer.

As an officer took Kell to her office, Alpha and I went to my room to get clothes and toiletries. Alpha offered to grow a beard to help tell the two of us apart, since he had a start of of one already. Ted took us to a hotel near the university precinct building. Alpha fell into exhausted sleep almost immediately. I, on the other hand, spent most of the night staring at the ceiling.

Low on energy, but let's try something.

2011-08-19T01:12:56Z

I was diagnosed last spring with exhaustion by my doctor. I went on a medical leave from my PhD studies in hopes that I could recover enough to continue my studies and my job. Unfortunately, I still don't seem to have much energy, despite medication, but I'm not quite as worn out as I was. Right now, I am worn out and a little sick again, though thankfully I am still able to keep up with my job. I may just have to give up on the PhD for a while. I've been so tired and unable to concentrate that I haven't even touched that one story I mentioned in my last post, which is actually almost finished.

A few years ago, I started on a project for NaNoWriMo, which I abandoned due to too many other commitments and the fact I got stuck. I am going to start posting parts of it here. Maybe it will inspire me to finish it. I don't know. I just feel so stuck right now in everything.

Added CAPTCHA for commentors who are not friended here.

2011-03-14T13:43:10Z

I really didn't want to do this, but I got tired of logging in to remove spam.

I know I haven't posted anything here for a while. I haven't stopped writing, but what I am currently working on is a piece just for myself - a inner exploration, so to speak. In short, I'm chasing personal demons in a multi-fandom fic. Very few people would even want to read it.

In other news, I am working on a PhD and tomorrow, I'm getting my last name changed back to Barncord. After my divorced, I kept my married name to make things easier on the kids and now that they are out of grade school, it's time to change back to my maiden name.

"I write like" Analyzer

2010-07-13T23:15:47Z

Several friends have been playing with this today, so I thought I'd run some of my stories through it.

For The Other Gods, May They Whisper No More, The Curse Breaker, and The Color Walk:

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

For The Destroyer:

I write like
James Joyce

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

For A Winter's Reckoning:

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

For The Unravelled Quest:

I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

For start of Anima Prima:

I write like
J. K. Rowling

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Then the rest of the story is like Dan Brown.

For Morality Play:

I write like
H. P. Lovecraft

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Apparently my writing mostly resembles Dan Brown's, which is ironic since I'm not a great fan of his stuff. But then, I've also been told that a lot of my on the fly poetry resembles Yeates' works and I'm not a great fan of him either.

Haiku based on the Jungian processes

2010-01-18T21:13:30Z

Requested by Robin Wiley

Se - Extraverted Sensing

Totalling absorbed
Sensing current physical surroundings
searching for data

Si - Introverted Sensing

Internal comparison
Memory-based differences found
Referencing history

Ne - Extraverted iNtuiting

Hidden meanings
Threads of thoughts brought to light
Woven into patterns

Ni- Introverted iNtuiting

Unexpected inspiration
Surety from depths of the unknown
Creating solutions

Te - Extraverted Thinking

Empirically based
Theories and research referenced and organized
Contingencied planned

Ti - Introverted Thinking

Catagories refined
Must find the precise term to describe
Include everything

Fe - Extraverted Feeling

Grace unbounded
Openly friendly and socially approachable
Conversation starter

Fi - Introverted Feeling

Beneath the surface
Sensing the undercurrents in the gut
Values upheld

Dreaming of Sleep

2010-01-18T00:55:33Z

for Vivian

Oh, treacherous body, have I fallen asleep yet?
Muscles relax and breathing slows down.
Rest, beautiful rest, like the colors of sunset.
Claims me in its blissful ground.
I see my lips smile in joyful sleep.
Feel the warmth of healing in my bones.
Energy into my very marrow seeps.
As I dream of this alone.
Then wakefulness come to betray me.
My body, denied of true rest, protests.
The pain and weakness pulses through me.
This is the part of morning I thoroughly detest.
Oh treacherous mind, how could you unite
With my body in this torture at night?

New short story

2009-10-25T04:52:12Z

Morality Play

"Ah! Good morning, Dr. Francis! I'm glad you could come meet with me today!"

"You said that the Congressional committee had an important directive for my people and I, Senator Lewis, in regards to treating and educating the clones taken from Dyamin, Inc.," Heidi Francis said, as she sat down in the leather chair, across from the senator.

"That I did," Senator John Lewis answered. "That I did. Horrible thing, all those clones taking over the research compound like that and killing three scientists."

"Yes," Francis said, keeping her voice level. "Who knew that clones have emotions? It not like they don't have the same brain structures and developmental needs as the rest of us. I mean, what normal person would snap after years of being devalued and denied healthy social interactions?"

Lewis laughed. "You should be in politics, doctor. You're quite good at delivering sarcasm with a straight face. But in all seriousness, we have one hell of a powder keg here. There are religious extremists even now calling for the clones deaths as a mean to correct what they consider an affront towards God."

"I see their picket lines every day, senator. And I have a couple extremist scientists who call me frequently, wanting to perform more tests on them," she pointed out. "The one thing the two groups have in common is the belief that the clones are not real people. Probably a projection of their own feelings of personal inhumanity, if you ask me. Luckily, most of the science and religious communities are at least non-committal, and a few are even supportive of our efforts. For the record, Senator, I think we're lucky they only killed a handful of people in their bid for freedom."

"Of course, Dr. Francis. I am quite aware of your work with murder committed by family members. That's why we chose you to lead the recovery team. The committee and I just have one request for you."

"And what is that?" she asked.

"It has been suggested that along with the mental health treatment programs your people are doing, you should also give the clones some moral education--to make up for those social values they missed out on as test subjects," he told her.

"And what exactly do you mean by moral education?"

"Nothing overtly religious, of course," Senator Lewis said. "That would cause all sorts of trouble. We're thinking more along the lines of Aesop's fables, though perhaps more modern."

"What's wrong with the original ones?" Dr. Francis asked.

"Well, take that Tortoise and Hare one," he said. "I didn't win my congressional seats by being slow and steady. I won them by turning on the speed and the relaxing in Bermuda after the results came in. Do you know what my last opponent is doing now? He's teaching at a university and running a non-profit organization for homeless people. The man can't even on a decent vacation on his current income."

"I see," Francis nodded. "So you want me to educate them in a secular moral code, taking in account modern society."

"Exactly!"

"I believe we may be able to do something in that area, Senator."

"I hope so, Dr. Francis," he said in dark tone, "because we are counting on you to make these clones model citizens. If they commit any more crimes against society, it will be your fault."

Dr. Francis met the senator's menacing pose with a quiet defiance of her own, as she stood up. "I will take responsibility for my own actions and that of my people, senator. The government and the scientific community needs to take the same responsibility for their own." She walked towards the door.

"What are you trying to say, doctor?"

Francis paused for a moment in the doorway, and then turned back to face the senator.

"I think I might be giving this moral education to the wrong population."

The door clicked firmly after her.

A Geek's Valentine Poem

2009-02-14T15:26:44Z

I love you from the core of my lizard brain.
You are the addiction I can't contain.
Your eyes are gravity wells that captured my soul,
With a gentleness that warms me like anthracite coal.
Your brilliance with the magnitude of Sirius A,
Mesmerize me with the thoughts you display,
Expanding the fabric of my universe with the possibilities
Generated within the bounds of our theories.
You are the greatest collaborator a person can find--
So, my heart's desire, please be my Valentine.

Halfway Between Love and Blood

2009-02-14T15:25:10Z

Halfway, stand I, between the demise and the mortal shell
That once housed my kinsman so long and so well.
A man of honor - a man of grace.
One who would willingly die for this place.
To save the knowledge that others must learn.
To save it from those who would spurn
The sacred wisdom of generations past.
To seal his sacrifice, this spell I cast.

As kinswoman, I call on the blood of his and mine.
This protection to the region bind.
Let no ill pass through this dome.
Let no invader call this home.
And all the drops of our kins' blood that fell,
Join, secure and protect those here as well.
Infused into the soil that surrounds,
No enemy will peacefully walk these grounds.

Halfway, stand I, between my grief and sorrow
For both him that fell and him whose arrow
Pierced the generous soul of my kinsman so dear
For he that killed, also shed I my sympathetic tears.
Fervently I wish it had not come to this.
Would that I had been able to mend what went amiss.
Years ago when all our mortal paths were new
And I was still in the graces of he that killed too.

As kinswoman, this blood-bonded spell I cast.
For as long as our family survives, it will last.
Be there always kinfolk of the blood here called
So this beloved region will forever be walled.
May the awful tragedy that here did pass
Become a blessing and and our sorrow surpassed.
May we recall more of the joy and less of the pain
That the happiness here given to us always remain.

Halfway, stand I, between the states of Heaven and Hell.
As kinwoman, I tip the balance and darkness dispel.