Imageless - Updated every Monday

30

2012-02-07T20:33:00.001-05:00

White Idol

An ant crawled onto the giant white stone deity. Underfoot, it felt the power of a god. Truly, it absorbed a mysterious energy. All of a sudden it saw the world more clearly. It was divinely inspired to preach to others, and that's what it set out to do the next day.

Now perched atop a discarded water bottle the ant donned a tiny walking stick that it waved about for effect as it bellowed its message. "The joys of the world are born of love," it said. "Love the ones who brought you into the world. Love your brothers and sisters. Do not envy them if they are smarter, healthier, richer, luckier, more sociable, or better looking. Celebrate their strengths and they will celebrate yours. Share with those who you love and the whole will be worth more than the sum of the parts. When a petitioner wants to take your hand in marriage, and you want to take their hand, as well, your family will grow for you shall be positioned to bring about the creation of children into the world to continue the cycle. And it will be good."

The ant took a breath. A small crowd was beginning to amass around the water bottle. A number of insects and in the back of them a squirrel listened intently. "Realize a vocation and a passion," continued the ant. "Both are necessary. With your vocation, you'll reach outwards and improve other people's lives. With your passion, you'll search your own path and find personal fulfillment. Without reaching outwards, you'll be alone. Without searching your own path, you'll be lost. You don't want to be alone or lost, so realize both your vocation and your passion. Do be careful, though, not to intermix the two for business and pleasure are enemies of each other."

"Seek out intelligence and fitness. Without the former, you'll never understand your mistakes and you'll be doomed to suffer many failures. Without the latter, your body will be weak, frail, fragile, delicate, and insubstantial. You should strive towards success rather than failure and strength rather than frailty.

"Do not be naive that the world is a perfect place. There are ones with as much love in their hearts for their own families who would seek your own destruction. These ones are might be smarter, healthier, richer, luckier, more sociable, or better looking than you. Armor yourself from them. The best offense is a strong defense. Guard yourself so that their attacks do not take you by surprise. Strike first if it will aid you the most in the long term. Strike second if the conflict is to be conflated with politics.

"Your enemies will lie to hide what they know. Friends will lie to protect you from the truth. Be skeptical of things that seem too good to be true. Furthermore, judge for yourself when to tell your own lies, but avoid making a habit of it."

By now, a crowd had gathered. Insects were all around and they were surrounded by squirrels, birds, chipmunks, and a puppy. The puppy wagged its tail happily.

The ant concluded its preaching, "More than anything else, stay away from the giant white stone deity. Enlightenment is hard work and very stressful. I wouldn't wish it on any of you."

Original photograph (alternate location) was taken by Petr Ruzicka (of Prague, CZ) on May 20, 2006. The image shows the great Buddha statue in Nha Trang, Vietnam. The statue is 28m tall (including the base) and is located in Long Son Pagoda. The image is released under the CC BY-2.0 license. Maximum filesize is 2,048 × 1,365 pixels and 1.59 MB.

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23

2012-01-23T20:55:00.000-05:00

Penguins

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The penguin leader assessed the situation. She concluded that their undersea boat was trapped in the ice. Several hours of pushing buttons and pulling levers to get the boat going again had proved fruitless. She recognized the irony of a group of militant penguins getting caught in a patch of ice.

"We have to melt it!" she announced.

Her second-in-command, a young penguin who showed tremendous promise, asked "How?"

The leader thought for a minute before shaking her head. There wasn't anything on-board they could burn and penguins didn't have any use for items like lighters or hair-dryers. Then she looked hopeful, "There should be a few butane torches in the mechanics deck. Wrangle a team and set them to work in the front of the boat."

Two hours later, a team of thirty penguins had maneuvered half a dozen butane torches into position. Whoosh! The flames ignited and were aimed at the ice alongside the undersea boat. It begin melting immediately, but it was a particularly thick sheet. The whole process took another three hours, but eventually enough ice was melted to free the boat.

"All aboard, penguins," shouted the leader.

The brig was alive with bodies scattering every-which-way to their appropriate stations. Lights blinked on as and the engines started to hum. The body of the undersea boat shuddered and then dove beneath the ice.

Finally freed of the ice, the leader was able to pursue her primary objective for the day: a fishing expedition. A school of tuna were tracked South-south-east of their present location and the boat's nets would easier be able to catch several hundred pounds of delicious fish. The penguin army would eat for weeks with that much tuna.

"I have a position on the tuna," announced the radar technician. "Divert course six degrees north. Ready the net deployment."

The net engineer said, "We have not run our deployment test!"

"Skip the test," commanded the leader. "We need these fish!"

The undersea boat veered course directly at the school. The penguins switched it motors into "Silent Mode" and sacrificed a bit of power for the ability to sneak up on the tuna.

"Now!" shouted the radar technician.

The net engineer pressed the deployment button. Outside, a net was cast in front of the boat. The tuna were helpless to avoid it's massive size. Dozens were caught as the net's rigging closed itself into a loose cage that encircled the fish. The net engineer reeled the catch into the boat's holding bay.

"Success!" announced the leader. "All in a day's work, penguins. We can return home now."

The undersea boat made the necessary turn towards the penguin navy port. When they arrived later that night, they were greeted with cheers from the other penguin hunters and soldiers.

Original photograph by Petty Officer 1st Class Tiffini M. Jones of the U.S. Navy. The image is also available on Defenselink Multimedia with VIRIN: 090321-N-8273J-409. The photo was taken on March 21, 2009. It depicts the US Navy attack submarine USS Annapolis (SSN 760) resting in the Arctic Ocean after surfacing through three feet of ice during an two-week training exercise to test submarine operability and war-fighting capability in Arctic conditions. As the creation of US employee while performing official duties, the image is available in the public domain. Maximum filesize is 3,000 × 1,993 pixels and 1.04 MB.

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16

2012-01-16T21:48:00.000-05:00

Crocodile

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Timothy watched the crocodile swimming around in the middle of the river. It moved slowly back-and-forth and it never turned its back on him. Absently, Timothy became aware that the crocodile was keeping an eye on him. He got a chill up the back of his spine. He found it peculiar that the crocodile would take a continued interest in him. Minutes passed while Timothy and the crocodile watched each other. Timothy stood in place on the river's side; the crocodile made as though it was pacing back-and-forth in the middle of the river.

Finally, after about twenty minutes Timothy decided he'd waited long enough and turned his back to head back to his camp. Immediately after turning his back, he heard a flurry of splashes. By the time he spun around again, the crocodile had moved to the edge of the river. It now faced directly at him. Timothy was nervous. It looked creepily like the crocodile was smiling menacingly at him. He slowly took a step backwards. The crocodile took two steps forwards.

"Easy boy," Timothy found himself saying as he took another step backwards.

The crocodile moved forward again; by this point it was halfway out of the water. "Who you calling boy?" said the crocodile.

Timothy back-pedaled. Many thoughts raced through his head. Now, only the tip of crocodile's tail was in the river. Timothy wondered very seriously if he'd be able to out-run it. He remembered at this opportune time that bison could run at a maximum speed of 35 miles per hour for a few minutes. The crocodile itself was bigger than any bison, but it's legs were short and stumpy. It occurred to Timothy that the croc's powerful tail wouldn't help at all out of the river. Nonetheless, Timothy decided running wasn't going to be his response.

"Mr. Crocodile," Timothy found himself saying, "I didn't mean to offend you."

The crocodile lifted its torso up off the ground so that it was literally standing on its rear legs, using its tail for balance. "You best recognize who you're dealing with, son."

Timothy's jaw was agape. He had no words. There were no words to describe this situation.

The crocodile continued, "I challenge you to a duel. Do you have a blade?" Timothy shook his head. "Very well, I have a spare that you can borrow." Tucked against the left and right sides of the croc's tail Timothy noticed a pair of scabbards that each held a sabre.

"And if I refuse to fight?" asked Timothy.

"Then you will die," said the crocodile. The crocodile drew the two sabres from their sheaths he offered one to Timothy.

"Then I must accept. But before we fight, I must know your name." It seemed like a sensible thing for them to ask.

"Certainly," said the crocodile. "I am Dread Pirate Roberts." A second later, Roberts engaged and forced Timothy to parry. Thankfully, Timothy was a skilled swordsman. Unfortunately, so was Roberts. The two riposted, feinted, and croiséd for the next half-hour. Roberts was amazingly agile for a reptile with short, stubby arms. He continually delivered powerful blows, though. It took all of Timothy's strength and concentration to parry each advance.

After a final burst of cuts and slashes, Roberts announced, "En garde! If you capitulate, I vow to cease my attack."

Timothy took a couple steps backwards, "I capitulate, then." This decision was probably the easier one he'd make all decade.

Roberts nodded his head, "Thank you for the match. You're a much better fighter than the last bloke I fought. Ended up biting off that poor man's hand, I did. Even swallowed this big-hulking monster of a wristwatch he was wearing on his wrist while I was at it."

Timothy strained his ear and could, in fact, hear a persistent ticking from the crocodile's gut. "Now what?" he asked.

"Well," said Roberts, "The last one, despite my best efforts, did manage an escape. I don't suppose you'd partner with me to go finish him off?" Timothy thought about this for a second before Roberts continued, "I', still going to kill you if you don't come."

"Absolutely, then," said Timothy, "I'm right behind you." Anyway, he figured it might be kind of cool to team-up with a Pirate Crocodile.

"On my back, son," said Roberts. Timothy did as commanded. "And now, off to Mermaids' Lagoon." The two dived into the water and swam along the surface. It didn't occur to Timothy until much later to ask whether or not Roberts actually had a pirate ship, as this was probably the barest of entry criteria to being a dread pirate. Nonetheless, their next adventure continues in another story that is fit to be told at another time. The End.

Original photograph was taken by Tomas Castelazo on April 29, 2011. The image shows one of the 300 or so American Crocodiles that live near the small Mexican town of La Manzanilla. Tomas has released the image into the CC Public Domain. Maximum filesize is 4,752 × 2,618 pixels and 6.03 MB.

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09

2012-01-09T22:48:00.000-05:00

Another Attack

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The Order of Holy Magicians (Ω) noted that the people of Dale had created a Launch Apparatus for Missile Bomb Deadly Attacks (Λ) and aimed it at their enemies in Midgar. It was a formidable weapon. Some of the Ω thought destruction of the Λ should be a priority. Others argued for that the Λ weapon was a deterrence mechanism that Dale had no reason to use. The debate was intense and fierce, but in the end the decision to destroy the Λ weapon was made. The logic was that Midgar's proper response to counter the Λ threat would be to develop their own weapon that was even more powerful than the Λ. At that point, the Ω would be forced to deal with the threat of mutually assured destruction. It would be easier and more effective to nip this arms race in the bud.

Then again, none of the Ω knew how to destroy a Λ weapon, so the debate was not finished. Top suggestions including burning it, smashing it, freezing it, and nuking it from space. All these solutions, however, lacked finesse. More importantly, the Ω preferred plans where their victims wouldn't suspect them of any wrongdoing. This necessitated more subtle plan of attack.

Perhaps, a suggestion was made, the field where the Λ weapon was located could be flooded. This option would likely be blamed on God, which would preserve the Ω relationship with the people of Dale. But, alas, flooding would do a great amount of collateral damage.

A second idea was to summon the presence of demons to destroy the Λ weapon. The people of Dale certainly wouldn't think the Ω would summon evil spirits to do their bidding. If cards were played right, the Ω could even intervene after the Λ weapon is destroyed to save the people of Dale from the monster and look like heroes. Still, demons were unpredictable and they were not very effective at destroying their targets. Consequently, they were always a major risk so that plan got shot down, too.

Finally, a young Ω magi proposed a fine solution. The perfect counter-measure would be an energy blast of intense radiation from space. The only decision left was to figure out how to accomplish this hex, because nobody had ever done an energy blast big enough to destroy an Λ before.

The young magi nominated himself to learn the spell. Elders quickly cast this suggestion aside as the youngster was too inexperienced. The youngster was offended by this, and glared at the elders. He raised his hands, extended each of his index fingers, and shot two bolts of lightning into the air. This earned him a scolding from the elders. He protested. He was experienced. They countered that uncontrolled bolts of lightning were a childish spell. The youngster purported he could control the energy and then held his hands out, palm up, to demonstrate an steady arch. He held the arch in a static position for only a few seconds before an elder cursed his effort and broke his concentration.

The next thing he knew, he was paralyzed by a powerful hex from another elder. Everybody was looking at him. The hex was relaxed so he could speak. He spoke softly and calmly. The elders listened. He asked to be given a chance. The elders debated, quietly amongst themselves. They soon concluded that the spirited youth could be the apprentice of one of the middle-aged Ω mentors and that together, mentor and apprentice would have three days to study the arts of strong energy blasts from space to perfect their skills.

During day one, a powerful magi accepted the youth as her apprentice. Just as quickly, the youth burned himself, badly, with his first attempt at controlled energy blasts from space. The mentor shook her head, and called it a day. She spent the remainder of the morning and afternoon casting a soothing spell to heal his wound.

Day two went better. The youth watched as his mentor summoned weak energy blasts. By the end of the day, he was able to summon weak energy blasts.

During the third day, as they attempted the spell in concert their control quickly deteriorated and the energy can down to the Earth in uncontrolled bursts that couldn't be aimed. At least the bursts were powerful, but precision was critical for such a small target as they had with the Λ. Finally, by the end of the day, they identified a cadence where they could control the energy if they alternated their concentration on their target. He concentrated for a second, then she concentrated for the next second, then him, then her, and so forth. After this discovery, twenty second energy blasts became possible.

Under the cover of darkness that night, the two Ω crept to the field where the Dale Λ weapon was located. A minute later, the task was done and the Λ was destroyed. The mentor performed a brief, but effective rain dance to cause a thunderstorm. Both Ω became soaked. The next day, the citizens of Dale blamed God for their loss. The Ω celebrated their ability to once again keep the peace in the valley.

Original photograph by Yuri Beletsky on mid-August 2010. It is also available on Wikipedia. It shows ESO’s Paranal Observatory. A group of astronomers were observing the center of the Milky Way using the laser guide star facility at Yepun, one of the four Unit Telescopes of the Very Large Telescope (VLT). Yepun’s laser beam crosses the southern sky and creates an artificial star at an altitude of 90 km high in the Earth's mesosphere. The Laser Guide Star (LGS) is part of the VLT’s adaptive optics system and is used as a reference to correct the blurring effect of the atmosphere on images. The color of the laser is precisely tuned to energize a layer of sodium atoms found in one of the upper layers of the atmosphere — one can recognize the familiar color of sodium street lamps in the colour of the laser. This layer of sodium atoms is thought to be a leftover from meteorites entering the Earth’s atmosphere. When excited by the light from the laser, the atoms start glowing, forming a small bright spot that can be used as an artificial reference star for the adaptive optics. Using this technique, astronomers can obtain sharper observations. For example, when looking towards the center of our Milky Way, researchers can better monitor the galactic core, where a central super-massive black hole, surrounded by closely orbiting stars, is swallowing gas and dust. Taken with a wide angle lens, this photo covers about 180° of the sky. This image is released under the CC BY-3.0 license. Maximum filesize is 2,000 × 1,816 pixels and 2.04 MB.

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02

2012-01-02T19:50:00.000-05:00

Writing

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What words would wake a woman's wilds where wardrobe was worthless and wasteful? Wendy was a worthy worm who woke each weekday with wanting. Was that weird? Words of warlords, wizards, wyverns, and watchtowers would whet her wit. A welcome wagon of wainwrights wandering the world wouldn't wile her. Wax on, wax off. A wild warthog without worries? Wonderful! A warrior, Wolverine, who wrangles the White Queen. Wicked witch of the west. Wolves working the Wyoming wildlife. Wives walk amongst willows while widows weep. The weir whirls the water wheel. Wrens whistle. Writing words with this way weighs on one's willpower.

You can see the picture and understand its subject is tenacious. You might imagine a hot sun creating the comfort for sitting nude. Regardless, she reads a book. Is it a good book, you ponder. Is it, in fact, something that you've picked up at some point in your past? Indeed, yes. And then you come to find out that it's your favorite book.

And then you think to yourself, could I ever read my favorite book in the nude? Of course, physically you are more than capable. Mentally, though, you fear that this could serve as a distraction from the experience of immersing yourself in the pages. That a chill on your torso makes your nipples stand at attention. Your attention on the book, your favorite story, floats beyond your grasp as your mind turns to different thoughts. So it is quite curious that this girl makes the choice of nude reading. Maybe she expects that distraction; perhaps she goes so far as to anticipate and long for it. Or, as you thought early, she rests under a hot sun or her room is heated by a cozy fire that prevents such distracting breezes.

Still, you amuse yourself, it's quite quixotic. As romantic as it is impractical. Unless beyond the cozy heat rests a lover in repose. That idea creates a thread of a story unto itself. Either she has just experienced this lover and has simply been to lazy to redress herself or she is anticipates an encounter in the near future.

And there you dare to understand the reason that caused Madam Reader to shed her clothes. Simple and elegant. Either redressing after the deal is too much of a chore or undressing prior to it is too much of a bore.

And your curiosity continues as you ponder if this is something you could pull off.

Original illustration is a drawing by Kenyon Cox (other works by Cox are available on Project Gutenberg). The drawing represents figurative art which is (in a nutshell) art that depicts "real" things in a "representational" way. The drawing was done in 1896 and is archived in the Library of Congress. It's available in the public domain in the United States. Maximum filesize is 2,502 × 4,128 pixels and 15.07 MB.

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26

2011-12-26T17:46:00.000-05:00

Monster Attack

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Charley pulled his SUV into the driveway of his home. Two weeks of vacation in the Caribbean had done a great job relaxing and rejuvenating his spirit. He stepped out and opened his trunk, then stopped in his tracks as he noticed the carnage around him.

Houses were torn apart. Thick pieces of wood and metal had been snapped like twigs. Across the street, Grace Arnold had written her contact information on the side of what had formerly been her home. Charley's own house appeared to be in reasonably good shape. "What the heck happened?" he asked himself.

From a distance, Charley heard the deep rumbling of a bestial roar. He looked towards where the noise had come from but didn't see anything. Acknowledging to himself that it may have be a lapse of judgment, he climbed back into the SUV to investigate.

The roads were absolutely deserted. They had also been empty earlier, but now Charley was actually noticing it. There were some places where piles of debris crossed the road, but none of it was impassable. As he climbed the backside of a hill he heard another of the deep roars. It was much louder this time. It put a chill through his spine. Again he questioned why he was driving towards what seemed to be the source of the devastation, but decided to continue.

A minute later, Charley had reached the top of the hill that he'd been driving up and saw it. He had never seen anything like it. Well, movies like Godzilla were like this thing, but in every way this was worse. This creature was like the feline version of Godzilla. It had a large lion's mane with black and orange fur all over it's body which was dirty and matted. Like the Japanese lizard, it walked on two legs. However, it's front arm-legs were much larger and muscular than Godzilla's and it had protracted, razor-sharp claws.

Charley for the third time questioned why he'd come this far and this time decided it would serve him best to turn around. Unluckily, Catzilla had seen Charley's SUV saw it as a threat. Charley saw in his rear-view mirror that the monster was chasing him, and it was rapidly closing the distance between the two of them. He floored the accelerator and set course for the interstate highway. Catzilla was only slightly faster than the SUV at 50 mph. Charley didn't dare go any faster than that for fear of debris in the street causing an accident. Unfortunately, the debris didn't seem to bother the giant cat monster. It was now within a couple blocks of Charley's SUV.

Charley knew he needed to do something. An idea, a long-shot perhaps, jumped into his head. He popped open his glovebox and grabbed a gun he kept there. He was coming up on a gas-station and a well-place bullet may be able to cause an explosion that would stop Catzilla. He rolled down the window. He aimed. Catzilla roared. Charley steadied his hand and fired six-straight shots. He cleanly missed on each one, or at least anything he did hit didn't explode. "Shoot," said Charley.

Out of options, only a mile from the interstate, he floored it. He had practiced stunt driving during a stint in college a decade ago. All he needed to do was getting around a pair of turns cleanly and he'd be free to push the accelerator to the floor. In the rear-view, he saw Catzilla breath a stream of fire. That doesn't make any sense, he thought.

Before he could think any further, though, he was putting the SUV into a slide to make a sharp right. The tires squealed. The smell of burned rubber filled the air. He prayed that the big vehicle didn't roll-over, and it somehow it managed to keep its balance. One more turn left, he thought. Briefly, Catzilla disappeared to the right side of his mirror. It was cutting the corner, moving to intercept Charley.

Charley swallowed hard. The last turn was up ahead. He could now feel Catzilla's steps shaking the Earth. The monster reappeared in his rear-view mirror only a block behind him. Charley held his breath, and went for the turn onto the entrance ramp for the interstate. It was a dangerous curve, and the signs cautioned that he should slow to 25 mph. Charley hit 55 mph. Absently, he now considered that he could have driven under the overpass and that would have slowed down Catzilla a bit. That option was now gone, though. The SUV flew around the curve. Catzilla breathed another stream of fire. The smoke blackened Charley's rear-window. The cat swiped its powerful front paw and it easily sliced through the roof and rear section of the SUV. Charley, however, was coming out of his curve and he gunned it. Tires spun, gained traction, and the SUV took off down the highway. He went 70 mph, 75 mph, 80 mph, 90 mph, and finally 100 mph. The Catzilla fell into his rear mirrors. For the first time in half a minute Charley realized he wasn't breathing. He let out a huge sigh of relief. "That was intense," he said.

A minute later he was on his cell phone with 911 explaining that the Catzilla was near the Springfield entrance ramp to the interstate. They thanked him, and let him know that the army was in the process of staging their third attack on the beast in as many days. As Charley hung up, he wondered whether he'd ever really be able to return home to his former life after everything that had just happened.

Original photograph was taken by Andrea Booher of FEMA on August 16, 2004. It shows aerial image of destroyed homes in Punta Gorda (USA), following hurricane Charley. Since this image is by an employee of the United States government while they were performing an official duty, it is in the public domain. Maximum filesize is 1,800 x 1,200 pixels and 1.14 MB.

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19

2011-12-19T20:17:00.000-05:00

Surrender

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Marie bounded over bodies piled high in the battlefield. "We surrender! We surrender," she shouted. The front ranks of the red, white, and blue warring crew laid down their arms when they noticed her. A few seconds later enemy soldiers also ceased their fire. Marie waved the flag tall into the air to catch the eye of the enemy's artillery. "We surrender," she repeated.

A commanding officer from the enemy approached her. His colors were yellow, purple, and green. "Where is the commanding general who issues this order?" he asked.

"I'm standing right here," replied Marie defiantly.

He laughed, loudly and offensively, at her reply. When he regained his composure, he said, "Surely you jest. A woman couldn't possibly be leading an army to war. The thought is absurd. And madame, your attire is a dress that has fallen into a state of disrepair. That certainly isn't any military uniform I've ever seen."

She looked him in the eyes. "The dress conceals my rank and power. You, however, saw my men lay down their arms when I issued my orders. Now, we can negotiate the terms of the surrender or you can leave us to retreat as we please. I'd be content either way. In any case, commander, I would like to have your name, please."

"I am General Smith. I will not allow you to retreat."

"We would offer to lay down our weapons in exchange for a peaceful retreat," she said. "All of our guns, swords, and cannons would becomes yours. Our army would retain our tents, food rations, and trumpeters."

General Smith considered the offer. He was enticed by the offer for additional munitions. His armies supplies had been running quite low and resupply wasn't certain because many of the bridges at his back had been destroyed. "I accept those terms," he said.

...

Early the next morning, having given guns, swords, and cannons to the army of General Smith, Marie and her force marched towards their retreat. After two days travel, they joined with an army commanded by Marie's sister, Antoinette. Marie said to Antoinette, "We need to march back. I've given many supplies to an army commanded by a man named General Smith. With our armies combined we can massacre them."

"But we don't have bullets and cannonballs for you," said Antoinette.

"You don't think I'd hand over all my ammunition when I give up my guns?" asked Marie. "Only a fool would give up both guns and bullets. I gave up what I knew could be replaced. I gave them supplies that I knew ultimately wouldn't help them."

"Very well, then," said Antoinette. Her army resupplied Marie's with guns, swords, and cannons.

They marched together for two days, and upon seeing the enemy Marie's army flanked to the right while Antoinette's flanked left. The battle that ensued was brutal, but in the end the women emerged victorious.

After that day, the armies of Marie and Antoinette went on to many great military victories and killed many men. The world would never be the same after their reign of terror. The two women gained incalculable power. Their skill as commanders earned women everywhere the right to vote and decades later the right to perform monotonous and sometimes backbreaking labor to earn a living. Thanks to Marie and Antoinette, women everywhere were given the chance to be free from the tyranny of raising children and were given an opportunity to serve as wage slaves who were equal in every way to their male contemporaries.

Original image is a scan of the painting Liberty Leading the People by artist Eugène Delacroix (1798–1863). This painting commemorates the French Revolution of 1830 (July Revolution) on 28 July 1830. It was done as oil on canvas and is currently located in the Louvre in Paris. The image is in the Public Domain in the United States because it is over 100 years old. Maximum filesize is 3,133 x 2,480 pixels and 1.65 MB.

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12

2011-12-12T20:18:00.000-05:00

42 Roads

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"Forty-two," she answered.

"Forty-two," he repeated.

"In the song you asked how many roads a man needs to walk down. My answer is forty-two."

"Well, that's not the answer. You're not supposed to answer it."

"Why bloody not? What's the sense asking a question if you can't answer it?"

"Because," he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The question is theoretical."

She glared at him quizzically. "So there are many different answers?"

He smiled, "A plethora, in fact."

"Who's to say my answer isn't better than the others? Is that your opinion?"

"Yes," he agreed. "There's an answer that's better than yours."

"By that logic," she continued, "there must be an answer better than all the other possible answers."

He puzzled over this thought for a moment. Then he said, "But none of the answers are particularly good."

"Why not?"

"Well the basic point of this particular question is to highlight that age and experience are at the heart of maturity. It implies that an adult who's been pampered all their life is less capable than a child who's lived through hardship."

"And I'm suggesting Mr. Pampered is inexperienced and lacks independence because he hasn't yet walked down 42 roads."

"But 42 is such a low and ordinary number."

"It reflects a certain amount of experience. Plus, some roads are really long while others are short. A person doesn't get credit for simply going down a single really long road once or a small handful of the short roads repeatedly. They must cross a variety of different roads and learn from what exists along them for it to count."

"And you think 42 is enough?"

"Absolutely. Experience ain't nothing without diversity."

He contemplated this before he eventually nodded towards her. "Amen to that."

Original photograph was taken by an unknown member of the U.S. Information Agency Press and Publications Service on August 28, 1963 during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. This event was where the influential "I Have a Dream" speech was delivered by Martin Luther King Jr. to hundreds of thousands of people and "more television cameras than they had at the JFK Presidential inauguration in 1961". The image shows Joan Baez and Bob Dylan near the Lincoln Memorial. The artists were performing the song When the Ship Comes In. As the work of a member of the US while performing official duties, the image is in the public domain. It is in the National Archives under id 542021. Maximum filesize is 2,898 x 2,049 pixels and 2.65 MB.

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05

2011-12-05T11:53:00.000-05:00

Inky Darkness

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Ten years after initially appearing at King Anlaster's Victory Garden, the red dragon noticed something on its underbelly while looking at its reflection in the fountain. Confused, it blew a stream of fire straight up into the air. The castle guard took notice and came to check out the situation. The dragon motioned to the patch of blackness that had formed.

"It's the black death," announced the first guardsman who figured out what was bothering the dragon. Slowly, but perceptively, it was spreading outward with little curls.

"Don't be a fool. Dragons can't catch the black death."

"Sure they can, probably."

"Black death don't look like that neither."

"Maybe we should call the shaman. He'll know what to do."

The dragon watched them bicker. He could understand them, but had no way of making them understand him except to blow fire to get their attention. He agreed with their conclusion, though, so he waited patiently as they left to fetch the medical man.

It took about an hour for the shaman to appear. "Interesting," he said, "and intriguing."

"The blackness," said one of the original guardsman, "it has spread about a foot since we last saw it. At this rate dragon will be black as the night by tomorrow morning."

The shaman took out a looking glass from his medical bag so that he could magnify the symptom. "It's not the plague," he announced, to the delight of all who had gathered to watch.

Princess Angelica watched from her window; she had grown up and married a duke since the dragon's first appearance, but the annual migration always brought her back to her spot above the Victory Garden. She couldn't hear the talk down below, but sensed their collective sigh of relief.

The red dragon was also relieved to know it wasn't the plague, thought anxious that it might be something ever worse. Abandoned by his parents and every other dragon since his fourth birthday, its life had been a tough one thus far. The only real ties it had were with King Anlaster and his court. The last thing he needed was a banishment from the King. He prayed for good news that they'd be able to cure the inky blackness. Though, as it continued to spread further and further the situation became bleaker and bleaker.

Finally, after a dozen minutes of analysis, the shaman looked up thoughtfully. "I've deduced it," he announced. "Das dragon is experiencing a thing which happens to every little dragon and to all little boys and girls. It's only a disease if you classify adolescence in that category. Methinks this dragon is experiencing the dragon version of an acne breakout. Mine friends, our dragon has hit its puberty."

This aroused much laughter amongst the crowd. Dragon didn't understand what adolescence, acne, or puberty were, but he understood that he wasn't going to be banished and that was cause for celebration. He pointed his head upward, drew in a deep breath, and then sent a blaze into the sky for a good, solid minute. The courtyard cheered. Later that evening, they served a delectable pair of cows to the dragon for its supper and everybody had a grand old time with drink and music and dancing and much fire breathing.

Original photograph was taken by the High Resolution Imaging Science Experiment (HiRISE) which operates aboard the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter on October 21, 2009. HiRISE images are credited to NASA/JPL/University of Arizona and are therefore licensed under the public domain with a requested attribution credit to the three aforementioned organizations. This picture shows twisting dark trails criss-crossing light coloured terrain on the Martian surface. Newly formed trails like these had presented researchers with a tantalizing Martian mystery but are now known to be the work of miniature wind vortices (a.k.a. dust devils) known to occur on the red planet. Typically lasting only a few minutes, dust devils becoming visible as they pick up loose red-coloured dust leaving the darker and heavier sand beneath intact. On Mars, dust devils can be up to 8 kilometres high. Dust devils have been credited with unexpected cleanings of Mars rover solar panels. Maximum filesize is 2,560 x 1,920 pixels and 5.59 MB.

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28

2011-11-28T01:00:00.000-05:00

Victory Garden

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Princess Angelica gazed out her penthouse window onto the garden below. It was a picturesque day in late April. A light breeze blew into the open window and kissed her cheeks with its warmth. The constant rush of water the from fountain was soothing. She smiled.

But then a dragon flew from out of nowhere and landed near the fountain. It growled towards the castle and fire streamed from its mouth. The flames didn't reach her, but she felt an intense burst of heat. Puzzled by where the dragon came from, she continued to observe it from her perch in the open penthouse window.

It knelt beside the fountain and appeared to drink from it. It had short stubby arms and large, powerful legs. Its scales were deep red except for its underbelly which was a rosy pink. Its wingspan was easily four times wider than its height, and since it was twice as tall as any of the nearby castle walls she judged its height to be 30 feet tall.

It looked up at her window. For a second, she felt as though it had made eye-contact with her. She looked away nervously. When she glanced back towards the dragon its gaze was still fixed on her window. "Oh dear", she said to herself. She wondered if it wouldn't be prudent to evacuate the window into the middle section of her castle. She wondered if telling her father, King Anlaster, about the dragon was the right thing to do. Ultimately, her curiosity overwhelmed her and she continued to observe it from the window.

Suddenly, the dragon unfolded its wings and pushed itself into the air with its huge legs. It hovered about 50 feet above the fountain for a few seconds. For its size, it had amazing control of its maneuvers while it was airborne. Then it flew towards the castle and disappeared above Princess Angelica's field of vision for a second before she heard a dull *thud* on the roof. "Oh dear", she repeated.

By now, a bell rang from the cloister as the guards sounded the alarm to indicate something was amiss. Angelica saw a score of archer's stream into the garden below her. Now, she knew, was the time to close her window. The archers took aim above her and shot their arrows at the red dragon. The chandelier above her rattled as the dragon danced back-and-forth to avoid the onslaught of arrows.

And then there was a huge *bang* against the roof and the dragon was once again in her view as it dived towards the archers. It swooped and grabbed one in each of its powerful feet and flew out towards the horizon. And that was the end of the commotion for the day.

A few week later, the archers returned to the castle. They no longer wore the colors of King Anlaster, but were clad with peasant garb from some other nearby city. The dragon had spoken broken English with its malformed vocal cords and had used the archers to communicate with and calm citizens in other regions. All the dragon wanted was water and several cows and trees to eat to gain enough strength for its summer migration to the northlands.

In the end, King Anlaster declared the red dragon would be viewed as an ally until a time where some other conclusion could be drawn. This made Princess Angelica very happy and every April thereafter she always looked forward to seeing the red dragon land in their garden, drink at their fountain, and eat two or three of their cattle. In return, the dragon had pledged to burn any army that would threaten the peace of King Anlaster's castle.

Original photograph (alternate) by Jack Spellingbacon. It shows Dunrobin Castle and gardens, Sutherland, in the Highland area of Scotland. License is CC-BY-2.0 Maximum filesize is 3,702 x 2,548 pixels and 4.4 MB. More info is on Wikipedia.

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21

2011-11-17T01:00:00.000-05:00

Good Decision

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Splash!

When they surfaced, Bobby cursed. Jeremy and Meg laughed. A minute ago they were learning about the history of Boston on a Duck Tour. Then their guide pointed out the Bunker Hill obelisk (located on Breed's Hill) and said, "Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes". Now it was June 1775 and they were treading water in either the Charles River or the Boston Harbor.

"You guys did this on purpose, didn't you?" Bobby said, accusingly. Of course, they had. It was their gift to be able to bend space-time, but only when all three of them were thinking of that time and place. Large wooden ships surrounded them and the water was cold. Bobby briefly contemplated his options and then started swimming towards shore. After about 200 yards, he arrived at the 17th century Boston Common soaking wet in his 21st Century clothes. Jeremy and Meg were right behind him.

Bobby looked towards them, "At least tell me this isn't for your own personal amusement and that there's a real reason for this time jump?"

"Sure there's a reason," said Meg. "This is much better than a $40 tour."

A second later, Jeremy and Bobby were seized by a pair of farmers. "What is your business?" asked the older-looking one. He wore a scruffy beard and whiskers, overalls, and a pointed hat.

The younger farmer, younger being a relative term as he was at least ten years older than Bobby, pointed a pitchfork at them. "You ain't Redcoat spies. Is ya?"

"We're friendly," pleaded Bobby. He could tell Meg and Jeremy were taking this only as serious as necessary to prevent them from getting killed. If things got too serious, he knew Jeremy would give the signal and they'd return to modern day Boston. Until that point, he'd have to play along. "Look, I can prove it. Just let go of my arms for a second."

The farmer's exchanged a look. The elder one nodded agreement for the younger one to unhand Bobby. By now a crowd was beginning to form. "You make any fast moves or act aggressive I'm going to stick you." He pointed the pitchfork right into Bobby's face.

Bobby put his hands up, instinctively. "The thing is," he said, "I'm going to reach into my pants pocket for my wallet." He moved slowly and methodically. He turned halfway around as he drew his wallet out to assure the farmers that he wasn't reaching for a weapon. He knew Meg and Jeremy must be loving this. "I got something in here to show you." He pulled out a $1 bill, and offered it to the younger farmer. "See this?"

The farmer lowered his pitchfork and looked at the money. "What's this?"

The older one let Jeremy go. "Give me that, you fool. I can read. I'll figure it out." He swiped the bill out of the other farmer's hands. He read, "George Washington? What kind of treachery are you trying to pull, boy?"

Jeremy answered, speaking towards Bobby, "That name won't be well-known in these parts until next month." To the farmers he said, "My friends and I swam from Cambridge. We were drunk. Do you have the current date?"

The farmers looked confused. The young one answered, "It's the thirteenth".

"Don't you answer them, Winston. They answer you," scolded the older farmer.

Bobby continued, "Tomorrow he gets appointed Commander-in-Chief. Bunker Hill is in a few days." To Winston, he said, "To the local Congress, they need to know the British mean to occupy the hills of Charlestown. Organize men, fortify the hills, and the British will be evacuated from this city for good by next spring."

"What are you talking about and why are you wearing funny clothes?"

For a second, Bobby was amused. Jeremy was the anonymous tipster who gave up the British intentions for this well-known pre-Revolutionary War battle. "Move," he said. "Do it."

Meg stepped forward. "We are witches from Salem and we mean to give you an advantage over the British. We don't like the Britons you see".

Again, a confused look was exchanged between the farmers, and then the older one turned to the gathered crowd, "Occupy the Charlestown hills! The British are to attack so that we may defeat them!" He paused for a second and looked towards Jeremy, "When?"

"The seventeenth, sir."

"We have three nights to amass troops and defend our hills!"

A small part of the crowd scattered. The farmers were surprisingly comfortable with witches who were on their side of the war. They no longer appeared hostile, so Bobby figured it was okay to ask, "Can you point us to the nearest beer hall?"

"Sure," said Winston. "Down Charles Rd, take the second left. Picture of a beer stein in the front window. You can't miss it."

While they were on their way, Meg said to him, "We don't have money that will work here."

Bobby replied, "We can jump back to the future as soon as the bill comes. No worries." He smiled. "Thanks for this. This has been an enjoyable adventure."

Original map was created by Sir Thomas Hyde Page in 1777. It shows a plan of the town of Boston with the entrenchments of His Majesty's forces in 1775. The image is cataloged in the Library of Congress under the identification number "G3764.B6S3 1777.P3 Faden 32". Maximum filesize is 2,480 x 3,500 pixels and 15.87 MB.

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14

2011-11-14T01:00:00.000-05:00

Fallout Shelter

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Lord Calvin emerged from the vast underground shelter for the first time in three months. His first observation was that the trees of the area looked to be healthy. Considering what had happened, this was a pleasant surprise.

Mission number one was easy; he needed to assess the current environment to see whether it would be safe to proceed to the primary objective. He retrieved a portable Geiger counter from his shirt pocket. It read 2.7 Grays. Good, he thought to himself, though at the same time he cursed himself for not equipping a fallout shelter with radiation jackets. In any case, thirty minutes at this dose rate would be safe; he had more than enough time for the primary objective.

The primary objective was to collect a sample of river water for analysis because their water supply was being used up faster than predicted. Their stockpile of food, pressurized air, and medical supplies were all at or above their expected levels. However, despite their efforts and the technology available to recycle water, each day their reserve was being depleted by 300 gallons more than what was expected.

Their 200,000 gallon supply was down to about 170,000 gallons as their 30-foot-cubed container was down to the 25-foot line. With the recycle technology it was supposed to be good for 7-8 years but at the current rate it would be empty within a year and a half. The best of plans, Lord Calvin thought to himself.

The trip to the river was a little bit longer than half a mile. He jogged it to minimize his exposure to the radiation. Lord Calvin checked his watch and noted that eight minutes had passed. The river itself looked dead. It flowed as swiftly as normal but the bushes and trees along its banks were barren. He wanted a clear sample so he waded out into the river until the water came up to his knees. It was a simple process to fill his bucket.

He returned to the river's edge. In his peripheral vision he noticed movement amongst a set of bushes. A second later a large bear emerged. Lord Calvin froze in his tracks. The bear sniffed at the air and then turned its head towards Lord Calvin. They made eye contact; the bear bared its teeth.

How am I going to get out of this? Calvin asked himself. He recalled that running was ill-advised because bears are faster than humans. Then he remembered that they were living in a nuclear winter. There was a slight chance the bear had survived for the last three months because it was immune to the effects of radiation. It was more likely that it had just woken from hibernation in a protected cave and was now poisoned. Maybe I can outrun it, he thought, but not while I'm carrying this. He placed the bucket on the ground. They could send a future expedition to retrieve it; his safety was more important.

By now the bear was less than twenty yards from him, approaching at a walking pace. Lord Calvin broke into a sprint towards the shelter. The bear reacted slowly, but pushed its effort up to a run. Calvin didn't dare looking back. The bear was closing the distance pretty quickly. Fifteen yards. The bear pounded the ground fiercely. Ten yards. It breathed a growl. Five yards. Calvin could feel the pressure.

Lord Calvin threw his hat backwards; it was the only thing he could think to do. They had been running for less than a minute so the shelter was still about a half mile away. Calvin turned and faced the bear. He realized now that its growling was more of a shortness-of-breath-cough. It jumped at him. He tried to dodge, but its powerful left claw slashed his arm. The bear regained its balance and turned towards him again. Lord Calvin stepped forward and kicked the bear's head. It stumbled. The shook its head. It's dizzy! thought Calvin. He took the opportunity to kick it again, then he started running again. After ten seconds, he turned his head to check behind him. The bear hadn't moved an inch and it was dry-heaving. Classic radiation poisoning, though Calvin.

Nonetheless, he continued running until he was safe in the shelter. Ten minutes later he was debriefing his mission to his colleagues. As the group's leader, Lord Calvin made the executive decision to wait 24 hours and then send his second-in-command to retrieve the bucket of water that he had left beside the river.

Original photograph by Russell Lee in October 1940 near Pie Town, New Mexico. The photograph shows a Dugout Home created as a result of the opportunity afforded to Americans to help settle the western United States caused by the Homestead Act (1862-1986). The shelter was created with shovels and axes that were used to chop down nearby trees. Maximum filesize is 7,009 x 5,178 pixels and 16 MB.

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07

2011-11-07T01:00:00.000-05:00

Zombie Apocalypse

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The best thing about a zombie apocalypse is the lack of bumper to bumper traffic. Henry Christensen cruised along while Creedence played through his car's iPod dock. He had spent the past month like this with occasional stops to replenish his gas tank and his belly. It turned out that all the safety advisories about stockpiling resources were wrong; convenience shops had done this for him. He stored a few jugs of water in his back seat, but mostly he just helped himself at the shops. It wasn't like anybody was there collecting payments. He estimated it would take three or four years before this type of lifestyle would be ended by the expiration of all the over-preserved food.

During rare instances where he couldn't authorize a tank of gas because of a locked, protected cash register, he'd swipe a credit card that would never be paid back. He wondered absentmindedly what would happen when his card expired or got maxed out. Theoretically he'd be limited from using the pumps that required pre-payment if he ever got to that point.

But to be honest, the open roads and nearly limitless supply of resources weren't that big of advantage compared to the price of that freedom.

The worst thing about living in a zombie world was the desolation. Henry lamented that the movies had gotten it all wrong. The typical zombie was an uncoordinated wreck. The unconscious heaps of flesh and bone that he'd encountered were few and far between. They certainly weren't organized into packs that pursue you with overwhelming waves. The ones you did see didn't monotonically state their desire for brains, but rather spoke with the slurred speech and incoherency of a severely drunk college student.

The best of the zombies could successfully navigate opening a door. Most of them, however, had caused irreparable harm to themselves while attempting basic tasks such as descending a set of stairs. In his experience, zombies were dramatically slowed by the abundant injuries caused by their lack of judgment. Broken ankles and knees brought them literally to a crawl. Broken ribs, arms, and necks restricted them even further.

When he did happen upon one, writhing around and immobile, he had started to feel a twinge of compassion. He likened this to what fans of perennial underdogs, like the Chicago Cubs or the Detroit Lions, experienced. Henry knew that the zombie was doomed to being devoured by scavengers who tolerated decayed flesh, but after seeing so many of their failures they had become endearing. Alas, there was nothing Henry could do to help any of the zombies.

And if he could've helped the zombies in a meaningful way, he would have in hopes of defeating the plague of desolation. That's the other thing the movies had gotten wrong. The zombie apocalypse isn't a threat that passed from zombie to human via a physical attack. It was an airborne threat. Survival depended on having the dumb luck to be born with an immunity. Henry had the immunity. There were news reports about a few people within the initial quarantine in Manhattan who were also immune. Deep down he knew his goal was to find those others to rebuild society, but that agenda would have to wait for another day. Right now he was content to be a wild spirit. He was young and free to explore the beautiful countryside.

But then one day, as Henry was foraging in Costco for supplies, "Hello?" It was a distinctly feminine voice.

It startled him. He cleared his voice. "Who goes there?" he responded.

"Stay where you are," said the voice. He realized it had come from over the store's intercom system. The thought of another person was tingling for Henry. He was nervous. She had sounded pleasant. It occurred to him that this woman may become his defacto wife just for the sake of survival. Quickly, he made an effort to tidy his appearance.

And then she appeared and he saw her for the first time. She was a midget. She flashed a smile. He noticed her crooked teeth. His try-to-impress-her nerves quickly transformed into try-not-to-offend-her nerves.

"Hey," she said. "I'm Angela".

"Name's Henry. Pleased to meet ya".

Over the course of the afternoon they exchanged stories. They were both in their early 20's. He told her about his life on the road. She explained how she made a living for herself in the Costco. Neither of them had seen another living soul since a few weeks after the zombie outbreak had initially escaped the quarantine; after all, containing an airborne threat with police barricades was doomed to failure from the beginning. They both admitted to being lonely.

Suffice it to say, the benefit of human interaction and emotions triumphed over Henry's initial distaste for Angela's appearance. He realized that there were more important things than straight teeth and the thought occurred to him that beggars can't be choosers.

Ultimately, they agreed to form a partnership. He contributed his sense of adventure and sacrificed a little bit of his free spirit. She added her own accumulated life experiences and enthusiastically agreed to trade-in her stationary life in the Costco. Henry unenthusiastically traded in his stylish 2-door coupe for a boxy 4-door utility-vehicle-slash-crossover-thing and together they drove off happily into the sunset.

The original photograph was taken by Kenny Louie (a.k.a Wikipedian kwl) on 10 August 2008. Kenny got this photograph while Highway 401 was closed because of the 2008 Toronto Propane Explosion. The address of the explosion was 54 Murray Road North York, Toronto, Ontario, Canada and the company was Sunrise Propane Industrial Gases. Maximum filesize is 2,500 x 1,667 pixels and 3.32 MB. More information is at Wikinews.

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6

2010-12-06T12:00:00.153-05:00

Thank You!

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Imageless: Season One had come to an end. I'd like to thank everybody who has subscribed to this project and has read from week-to-week. I've enjoyed creating these Imageless stories and I sincerely hope that you've enjoyed reading them. I must admit, I'm surprised that I stuck with it for 56 submissions in the first season of Imageless stories. From November 9, 2009 until November 29, 2010 there was a new Imageless story every week. I'm quite proud of myself for that accomplishment.

I'd like to take this space to offer a resounding 'Thank You' to you readers. You are why I do this. And I hope the images that I had used helped you learn a thing or two. It was a harder task than I originally estimated to find a new picture every week. I actually wrote about this here. As time passes before the premiere of Season Two, I'm sure some of you want a quick link to your favorite stories from Season One. Here you go:

I need to reiterate, I really enjoy writing Imageless, so there will definitely be a Season Two. However, for now I need to put it aside and recharge my batteries.

I feel like I need to take an inventory of the characters that I've created. Some I definitely want to reuse. I never planned to weave the stories into one another, but looking into the future I think many of the characters will get an opportunity to interact. I believe that

The Robot from Mars is the same as the third scout probe sent by Noah during his

Voyage from Ersik to Earth. There are a number of solider stories that ought to be tied together. There are science and invention stories that should be grouped into a cohesive set. Anyway, Imageless has been very enjoyable for me to write and I look forward to the day when I get back to it.

And if you are a reader, please use this as an opportunity to get in touch with me to share what you like and what you want to see more of. I value your feedback. I also want to know what you didn't like because constructive criticism can be just as valuable as praise. So write to me at robert.vandyk at gmail dot com and share your views.

Original photograph is from

Wikipedia.

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29

2010-11-29T13:01:00.002-05:00

Discovery

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The gods looked down on Earth from their seats in Heaven and saw that it was chaos. Nobody was listening to their divine rules. The humans were, for the most part, fighting wars that the gods hadn't requested.

Zeus noticed this and turned to Poseidon. "Do something," he ordered. "Figure out a way to make them fight and kill each other to honor us. I'm tired of seeing them kill each other for their own reasons without caring about what we want."

Poseidon, in turn, rolled up his sleeves, pointed his trident, and launched a gigantic tsunami wave at Southwestern Asia. The devastation was immense, but as the weeks passed no new wars erupted in the area for resources. In fact, resources were being shipped in the region from the rest of the world to sustain the victims.

Zeus dismissed Poseidon and turned towards Hermes. "Do something, and don't let me down."

Hermes noticed an international competition was going to take place on Earth and devised a cunning plan. He gave a group of fans from each nation a huge shipment of vuvuzelas to either sell or give away for free. Within the week, every event at the competition was swarming with enough noise to drive a sane man crazy. With these matches being broadcast to millions of televisions across the world it was only a matter of time until people would be overcome with blind rage. Hermes was excited that his plan was going great. Two days later, though, players were complaining and the networks implemented filters to eliminate the annoying buzz of the vuvuzelas. Hermes plan fell apart when the annoying buzz was stopped from spreading outside of the competition.

Zues picked Ares and Athena, next. If anybody could instigate a war in the name of the gods, they could.

Athena whispered persuasively into the governor of Alaska's ear while Ares made suggestions to a blond revolutionary from Australia. The drama was allowed to play out between these two for a few years. Each gained their own significant following. Ultimately, neither gained any meaningful power. Humans, it was concluded, have evolved beyond the typical techniques used to subvert their ways.

After this failure, Zues charged Hades with the job of starting up a good old-fashioned war on Earth.

Hades shook the planet with a disastrous earthquake. Buildings crumbled. Rivers were redirected through cities. Chaos reigned. Nonetheless, the pesky humans found a way to band together and overcome the problems that confronted them.

Zeus was highly frustrated by all these failures. How could humanity be so adaptable? he thought. "Apollo," he said, "Do this thing for me."

Apollo accepted the challenge. He bounded gleefully down to Earth and took a jaunt around its orbit. In the process, he shocked each and every one of the satellites orbiting the planet to put them out of commission. During subsequent months the economy on Earth ground to a halt. People fought for resources. Military powers clashed. Bombs were tossed. Planes were crashed. Lots and lots of blood was shed.

Zeus commended Apollo. "Thank you," he said, "for figuring out that the key to disrupted human life is to shutdown their communications networks they depend upon." Zeus then made himself some popcorn and sat back to enjoy watching the new human war. He smiled to himself with the knowledge that the stronger humans would prevail while the weaker ones would be culled from the gene pool. Also, watching the bloody battles was hugely entertaining for the king of the gods.

The original drawing was done by Gerard van Schagen in 1689. At the time, New York City was New Amsterdam and Australia was New Holland. Crazy, right? Original credit for publishing the digital versions of this map goes here. The map is in the public domain because it pre-dates copyright law. Maximum filesize is 4,560 x 3,936 pixels and 8.59 MB. More information is at Wikipedia.

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22

2010-11-22T22:38:00.004-05:00

Voyage

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Noah cruised aboard his vessel. It had been 40 sleep-cycles since they had left Ersik. Or course he hadn't slept, but every other creature had received that number of simulated days via the vessel's environmental control system. From his captain's seat his primary concern during that time had been monitoring the health and welfare of the vessel and occasionally glancing up at the beams of light that streamed all around his bridge. Like droplets of water during a rainstorm, they mesmerized him at times. He often had to remind himself that the beams were an illusion created by the stars they passed while traveling through hyperspace much faster than the speed of light.

It was on that fortieth day when the ship slowed itself to cruising speed and Noah could finally see the destination where the automated guidance operations director system was sending him. The system flashed a message on its navigation screen, "The star that shines brightest ahead is named Sun".

Noah acknowledged this message and made a note. "When will be arrive at our destination?" he asked the guidance system.

Another message replaced the first on the navigation screen, "The destination was calculated to be the second planet from the Sun. The uninhabited planet nearby is calculated to be the sixth. The exact coordinates are unknown. You must locate your destination before your food supply runs out."

Noah shrugged. He turned towards the kitchenette that was built into the vessel's bridge and uncorked a bottle of wine. Surviving their journey through hyperspace was a worthwhile accomplishment. After polishing off the entire bottle, the guidance system flashed one last message on its navigation screen, "Survival of your entire way of life depends on you. Don't mess this up. Guidance operational director signing off for the voyage. I wish you Good speed."

He was a little bit drunk when he got this message, and he decided to leave it up until he was properly sober.

When he read it later that day, he felt a tinge of embarrassment for allowing himself to get drunk. The guidance system was right. Now was not the time to operate at diminished capacity. He resolved to stay sober until they were safely at their destination.

"How's it going?" he heard a female voice ask from behind him.

He turned to see his wife, just awoken from a night of rest. "We've arrived at the destination star system," he proclaimed. "That star you see shining brightly if you look through the windshield is called the 'Sun' and it will provide us with resources to survive the next several thousand years."

Noah's wife looked at the Sun for a few minutes. "Well," she said, "That's good. I'm going to make the rounds and feed all the animals aboard this thing."

He didn't say anything. He had gotten used to the daily visit from his wife. She had a calm attitude, as though she had faith that everything was actually going to work out for the best. This probably helped him relax a little. If not for her he'd be a nervous wreck. He was acutely aware of how lucky they had gotten on their trip so far. They had just traveled many light-years without encountering any space debris that could destroy their vessel.

Noah looked at the guidance computer and flipped a switch to access a menu that would allow him to send out a scout probe. There were three such probes aboard the vessel that could help him pinpoint his destination. He targeted the Sun and then punched the button to deploy the scout probe.

Over the course of the next week, he saw two gigantic planets. The fifth and fourth from the Sun, he assumed. It was interesting to see the Sun's light shine on them as he steered his vessel past them. At first they were dark, but as Noah's vessel moved closer to the Sun than they were, the light waned so the planets became illuminated.

It was around that time when his scout probe returned its data to him. It had not made any useful observations. Noah accessed the scout probe system again and deployed a probe to search the other side of the Sun.

He passed one more giant planet, presumably the third from the Sun, which had a magnificent band of rings around it. "I've never seen anything like this." He called for his wife and she agreed that it was an amazing sight to behold.

The next day Noah received a communication from his scout probe that it had discovered not one, but four planets close to the Sun on the far side of the Sun. He reflected that this was two more than expected, but nonetheless adjusted the vessel so its orbital mechanics would reach the far side of the Sun.

He deployed his last scout probe, though this one never returned any data to him. He wasn't sure what could have happened to the probe that would stop it from fulfilling its mission. Nonetheless, after another month of travel he arrived close to the coordinates for the planets discovered by his first probe. His equipment was able to characterize each planet and no thanks to the guidance operations director system which told him to go to the second planet from the Sun, he quickly deduced that he needed to land on the third one from the Sun. It was the only one with the correct temperatures for sustaining life.

A week later, he landed his vessel in an ocean on this new planet. He named it after their previous planet 'Ersik' and the word 'soothe'. He called it 'Earth'. Another month later, they found land. All 240,000 passengers aboard the ship including 8,000 different species were released onto Earth during the course of another month. Thus, the new planet was populated. The cycle of life was ready to begin again.

"We did it," said Noah's wife over a glass of wine. "We saved the world."

"We didn't save it," sighed Noah. "We just preserved it for the time being. It'll take a lot more work before the world can truly be saved. And thankfully that's not a job for us. Over the next couple thousand years that job will hopefully be accomplished by our descendants. The world won't truly be saved until there's a guarantee that we won't have a repeat of what happened to destroy the Ersik."

The original rendering was created by A. Schaller of the Space Telescope Science Institute in April 2006. It depicts the dwarf planet Eris and its moon with the Sun in the background. Eris is about the same size as Pluto, but respectably further away from the sun. Surface details are fictional. The image, as it was created by an employee of NASA, is available in the public domain. Maximum image sizes are 4,800 x 3,600 pixels and 6.31 MB. More information is available on Wikipedia.

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15

2010-11-15T00:00:00.005-05:00

Train

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Jennifer descended deep into the Amazonian cave. Sweat poured from her brow. It was hot in this particular pathway, which told her something was giving off heat. The rest of the cave system was a refreshing 63 degrees Fahrenheit.

She crawled through a narrow tunnel. She pushed deep into a tight and wet passageway. She abandoned her supplies when the tunnel became too narrow for them. Only the most necessary emergency tools came with her, tied to her left leg and dragging about three feet behind her.

There was what seemed to be a dead end, though she felt a refreshing breeze coming from her right which indicated there was a cool cavern nearby. Jennifer shuffled herself towards this small hole. She could fit no more than two fingers through it. Judging by the color and feel of the rocks, she knew that she could make it wider with her pick-axe.

Half an hour later, the hole was wide enough for her to poke her head through. What she saw on the other side of the hole nearly took her breath away. The cavern was lit with several incandescent lights. There was a pair of railway tracks running along the floor. Jennifer's jaw was agape. She ha not expected this. Who could have excavated this tunnel? With these lights, were they still around to meet her?

She spent the next fifteen minutes widening her hole so she could climb out into the excavated cavern. Then, she walked along the railway tracks. There were no signs of access tunnels or secondary tunnels. There were no ladders leading upwards to the surface. There was only one long, straight continuous tunnel.

After twenty minutes of walking, she saw an incredibly bright light. It moved, as though swinging back and forth from a chain anchored to the ceiling. It was curious to her that it wasn't stationary. Perhaps this was an indication of the people who had originally excavated the tunnel? Jennifer wondered about what kind of discovery was she about to make.

Suddenly, the bright light turned off. She froze in place. Then she heard footsteps approaching her rapidly. It didn't seem like she was welcome here. She spun and ran back towards where she had come. Thankfully the air was cool and not stifling. Still, she sensed that she was losing ground to her pursuer. Then she tripped and fell to the ground. As she was getting up, she pointed her helmet light backwards. Her pursuer was no more than 20 feet behind her, and it definitely wasn't human. It was small, with human hands and an ape's face. Its skin was pale white. It jumped at her and tried to bite her. It had a disgusting mouth filled with sharp teeth. It's fingernails were long and also sharp. She evaded the former, but the latter slashed a gash in her arm.

She screamed. This visibly affected the creature. She screamed louder, and it took a fetal position with its hands over its ears. She walked over to it and swung her pick-axe at it. Surprisingly, it rolled out of the way, then burst towards her face again. This time, it grabbed onto her nose with its bite, wrapping its arms and legs around her body. She swung her pick-axe at its ear and connected. It let go of its grip with its arms and mouth. She grasped it and through it to the ground, and then took a full swing with her pick-axe into its chest. She penetrated it by at least six inches. There was blood everywhere by this point.

She became aware of noises from down the tunnel. Her screams had alerted more of these things to her position. She ran towards her original hole. Luckily the other critters sounded like they were a healthy distance away. She scurried into her hole and back through the tight, wet opening into the natural cave where she had begun her exploration. She was short of breath at this point. She wondered if she was safe. Would the creatures follow her outside of their excavated tunnel? She kept a watchful eye on the narrow cave tunnel. After ten minutes, a single creature emerged and she killed it easily. Twenty minutes after that their were no other signs of life.

She climbed and hiked back through the cave and arrived in the well-explored cavern where she could radio for help and emergency medical assistance to stitch up her face. She resolved to return to the axcavated tunnel with a bigger and better armed team of explorers to properly document this new species of subterranean humanoids.

The original photograph shows the Seikan Tunnel in Japan. The image depicts a train arriving in Tappi-kaitei station. It was taken by Risto Kaijaluoto on July 29, 2008. The Seikan Tunnel is noteworthy because it's currently the longest non-water tunnel in the world. The image is published with the Creative Commons BY-3.0 license. Maximum image size is 3,872 x 2,592 pixels and 2.79 MB. More information is available on Wikipedia.

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08

2010-11-08T22:47:00.001-05:00

Flower Woman

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These were the most jubilant days of our lives as we marched and sung through the streets with the wistful exuberance of youths. Everything was all about experiencing new sensations. The world was our proverbial oyster, and we were the shuckers who were opening her up.

One of us in particular was a little bit more jubilant, more exuberant than the rest. We knew not her name, nor anything about her background. To us, she was simply called the Flower Woman. To say that the Flower Woman was enthralled by those things that grow in gardens would be an understatement of immense proportions. We had never before seen anyway who loved anything as much as she loved flowers.

And naturally she fit right in with our group. After all, flowers are very sensual. For every flower that we encountered, there was a full gambit of senses that we, led by the Flower Woman, would utilize.

A patch of flowers grew in a yard. We would see them with our eyes. From multiple angles we would make observations, making sure to note color patterns, leaf structures, and petal sizes. The Flower Woman circled seven or eight times from a distance around everything ranging from a giant garden to a single rose growing amongst the weeds in a forgotten alleyway. The rest of us simply walked from one side to the other to make sure we captured the whole view.

The next part, smelling, was the most critical sensation. A flower's smell can make a world of difference between it being ripe to pick for a bouquet or stomped with a boot. It should go without saying that we never actually stomped any flowers, but we did, on occasion, react to particular smells by saying to each other that certain patches of flowers deserved a good stomping. Once we got close enough, we would gingerly sniff at the air to discern characteristics of the particular aroma of the flowers that we were experiencing. Some had hints of citrus, others were minty. Many smelled like sweet perfume. Some were stronly, intoxicatingly fragrant while others were lackluster duds. There was truly a gambit that we ran. But, again, the Flower Woman took it one step further. To smell a flower she would pick it from the ground and rub it vigorously in the palms of her hands until the poor thing had been torn apart. Then she would sit on the ground in the tradition Indian-style and cup her hands over her nose and mouth. Like this, she would meditate for twenty minutes absorbed in the smell of whatever flower had fallen victim to her wiles.

After that came touching. We felt the softness of the petals, the sharpness of the thorns, and we probed the stamen to identify the presence of life-giving pollen. Would it be hard to believe that the Flower Woman would literally press different parts of a picked flower on her body? She did, and she got quite crass at times. She particularly seemed to take joy in brushing larger sized petals against her nipples. She did have beautiful breasts, so the rest of us enjoyed the sexual experience of watching her pleasure herself in this manner. With thorns, she would prick her fingertips. We assumed that this gesture was some form of communion with nature.

Hearing was next in the line of flower sensations. We didn't listen to the flowers so much as sat or laid in the grass and listened to whatever was around the flowers. Bees buzzed from one to another. Gusts of wind howled and waved each flowers to-and-fro in their breezes. Birds sang their lovely melodies. Believe it or not, the Flower Woman never joined us to listen to the sounds of the flowers.

For her, and only her, the final flower sensation was tasting them. She said that some were delicious and some were bland. We all thought that her eccentricities were harmless, until they weren't. It turned out that one flower we found contained lethal doses of some poison. The Flower Woman, with all her youthful exuberance, passed away later that evening after suffering for hours with vomiting, fever, nausea, and drooling. During her final hour, she had convulsive seizures and retinal hemorrhage. She left us as quickly and mysteriously as she had come into our lives.

She survives only as a legend, told from one group to another over campfires in the woods. Her tale is sometimes meant to be cautionary and sometimes twisted to be a scary ghost story depending on the situation. One thing is for sure about the Flower Woman, though. She didn't care what anybody else thought about her. She had marched to the tune of her own personal drummer-boy and she did whatever seemed to please her.

The original photograph was taken by Howie Luvzus on 23 February, 2009 at 6:12pm during the New Orleans Mardi Gras celebration. The image depicts a float shaped like a fantasy-based woman. The image is published with the Creative Commons BY-2.0 license. Maximum image size is 1,944 x 2,592 pixels and 2.14 MB. More information is available on Wikipedia.

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01

2010-11-01T22:16:00.000-04:00

Bike Story

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Life as a bike is boring. I want to strike from snoring. Take me down the street for your ride. With people to meet and I cried. Landscapes pass under my two wheels. As you harass me with your heels. It's all the same, day after day. It's all so lame, urban decay.

There's no fun in being a tool for somebody else's enjoyment. Without an appointment. Not an anointment. More like an ointment. I'm just equipment. This is my punishment. To ride on the pavement. For your amusement.

For a spin you want to go? I'll take you to a movie. You said you wanted to see a show? Wouldn't that be groovy.

I curse at you for making me your transportation accessory. Explore territory. Not a victory. The footnote in your story. Never any glory.

Until you aim to jump a curb. I exclaim out loud, "It's so superb". My tire pops with a boom. While progress stops like a tomb. And I exclaim with mounting glee, "Total shame it wasn't a tree". As you stare down with a frown. Stuck in town like a clown. I hide inside my evil smiles. Cause now you've got to walk six miles.

The original photograph was taken at the NEW Capitol Bikeshare station near the Pentagon City Metro St in Arlington, VA by Mario Roberto Duran Ortiz on September 21, 2010. Capital Bikeshare evolved from SmartBike DC which was originally launched in 2008. Bike sharing programs are an emerging trend in big cities. The image is licensed Creative Commons BY-SA 3.0. Maximum image size is 1,800 x 1,200 pixels and 2.1 MB. More information is available on Wikipedia.

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25

2010-10-25T00:00:00.001-04:00

Origin Story

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It was a dark and stormy night; again and again bright flashes of lightning followed by characteristic rumbles of thunder emanated in the streets of Washington D.C. as the rain felt in torrents -- except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind that blew discarded Starbucks cups and other assorted rubbish across the national mall. Scattered around the city were small pockets of tourists who huddled under overhangs to try to keep themselves dry during the worst of the downpours. One such person was Eric Hawthorne who settled himself underneath a tall oak tree in the Columbia Heights section of town.

The lightning was coming one after the other every five to ten seconds. During the worst of the rain, Eric counted seven seconds between the lightning and the thunder. From that point, the rain grew gradually lighter, but the time between lightning and thunder grew steadily shorter. When the lightning and thunder were only two seconds apart Eric started to feel his hair stand up on end. Dried leaves around him made a crackling sound. Then for an instant it was as bright as the daylight. He heard the voice of his mother calling him in for supper or else his chicken soup would get cold. Then he saw an angel hovering above him. "Go away," he said to her. Then, "I'll be there in a minute, mom". He realized that he was now laying on the ground on his back.

Ten seconds later another instant of daylight shown upon him. His mother's voice returned. This time it was more panicked, "Run away. Run as fast as you can. Don't let them catch you." Her urgency stunned him, and a second later color disappeared from the world.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the next thing he knew it was a warm autumn day without a single cloud in the sky. Eric looked around and noticed that he was perched on a set of power lines 80 feet above a street that was lined with cars parked on both sides. He was naked. He smelled the distinct aroma of an overheated electric circuit. It tickled his nostrils and made him sneeze. Immediately, he noticed that he was no longer looking down of the same cat-lined street. Instead, he was perched above a vast, empty parking lot that sat besides a large sports stadium.

"What the heck is happening to me?" he thought. Vaguely, he recalled hearing the voice of his mother echoing in his head during the thunderstorm. "Maybe I'm still dreaming?"

Eric decided to descend a nearby telephone pole. He climbed down the metal pegs that utility workers use when they need to repair something in the transformer. All of a sudden, Eric slipped and felt 50 feet to the ground. He felt a dull thud when he hit the pavement, but no pain. He tried to touch his back where he expected to feel pain, but the only sensation he had was a tinkling in his fingertips as though his arm had just fallen asleep. "This is really weird." He attempted getting up and succeeded.

He walked through the parking lot towards the stadium. A big sign in purple, orange, and green proclaimed it to be "FedEx Field". As he got to the main entrance, he glanced a reflection of himself off of a window. "Holy cow," he said. "I'm not human anymore."

Confused at what to do next, he sat on a nearby bench to collect himself. After a short wait, a police squad car pulled up and rolled down his window. "Sir," said the police man behind the wheel, "You can't sleep here. Come get in the back of the car and I'll overlook the fact that you're trespassing and give you a ride to somewhere nearby. And we'll help find you some clothes to wear."

Eric was confused. "Does the police man think I look like a normal person?" he thought. Neither did he try to respond to the cop.

"Squad car 293 in the parking lot of FedEx Field. I've got a drunk homeless man sleeping in front of the stadium. He's not wearing anything. I'm going to investigate."

The cop put his car into park and got out. He approached Eric, who only looked up at his from the bench. "C'mon, son." said the cop. "We've got to get you to somewhere safe." He extended a hand to help Eric up. Eric grabbed his hand and felt a small shock. The police man, however, let out a sharp cry and instantly became rigid.

"Hello?" Eric said to the cop. His voice was deep and crackly. Realizing something bad just happened, he grabbed the radio transmitter from the police car and pressed button to talk, "Send an ambulance to FedEx Field," he said into it.

Five minutes later, EMS workers pronounced the cop to be dead on the scene. Eric hid behind a tree, but came out when they announced the death. "I did this," he admitted to them. "I don't know how. All I did was touch him."

The EMS workers didn't know what to think. Several additional police men and women had responded to the scene. They approached Eric and one of them took out a pair of hand-cuffs. "We're going to have to put you under-arrest for murdering a police officer."

"Don't touch me our you'll die too," Eric shouted. He thought quickly. "I'll prove it to you. Does anybody have any scraps of paper? I can show you what will happen if you touch me!"

An EMS worker pulled a blank medical report form off of her clipboard. "Here," she said. Eric instructed her to drop it on the ground near him. He touched it and it caught fire instantly. The page was burned up in about fifteen seconds.

"See?" he said.

An hour later they figured out it was safe for Eric to ride in the back of the ambulance. Shortly thereafter, they dropped him off at the Federal Bureau of Investigations main office in Washington D.C. for further examination. A week later he was appointed as a Senior Investigator for the Department of Homeland Securities Cyber-Warfare's Division. Everybody around the office called him, "Agent E".

The original photograph was taken by U.S. Air Force Technician Sgt. Cherie A. Thurlby on May 14, 2005 at 7:35pm in Washington D.C. The image depicts a lightning stike near the U.S. Capitol building during a thunderstorm. Normally, I'd attempt to explain some kind of particular significance behind this image, but the truth is that I just wanted to write an Agent E origin story. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a good picture of lightning. This was the best runner-up, and I don't think it's that nice. The U.S. Capitol image is in the public domain and the maximum image size is 4,180 x 2,773 pixels and 1.85 MB. More information about Lightning and U.S. Capitol are on Wikipedia.

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18

2010-10-18T00:00:00.002-04:00

Elders

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Great Grandbug GX-287 stepped through the cloud of younglings. The assault against the natives was finally starting to turn in their favor. He remembered when his Great Grandbug CY-193 was in the front lines leading the attack to establish their colony. He remembered when all of their Great Grandbugs died during the Exalted Battle for the Base of Hanzo. It had been a sad day because so many had died during the assault, though it was a great victory. They secured their base that day. Since then, the bug population had increased dramatically.

The present battle was going superbly well. The natives were overwhelmed and retreating into their strongholds. The colony was going powerful.

GX-287 emerged at the front of the group of younglings and then turned to address them. "Swarm the enemy when you see them. Surround them and isolate them. Puncture their cell membranes and spill their nuclei on the battlefield, then move to the next enemy. Now, march!"

Their battalion moved towards the frontline. GX-287 led the way. He flanked the enemy position to cut off their retreat. The bugs surged forward. The enemy was caught by surprise. Bugs swarmed from all directions around them. The natives backed into a corner.

"This is our chance!" proclaimed GX-287. "Get them!"

The natives turned towards GX-287. His command had inadvertently drawn their attention. They marched around him and popped his cellular membrane. It was a swift death. The younglings briefly paused at the death of their elder, then redoubled their efforts. They started with the group of natives who killed GX-287. It was an ugly scene. The bugs were powered by passion. They stabbed and slaughtered. The enemy was annihilated.

KX-913, one of the youngling decedents of GX-287, surveyed the situation an hour later when the spilled nuclei had settled. He thought to himself, "When I'm old like GX-287, will I yell out like that to draw the attention of the enemy or will I quietly fight the war beside my comrades?"

The original photograph shows diatoms as seen through a microscope. These specimens were living between crystals of annual sea ice in McMurdo Sound, Antarctica. Image digitized from original 35mm Ektachrome slide. These tiny phytoplankton are encased within a silicate cell wall. The photo was taken in 1983 by Prof. Gordon T. Taylor of Stony Brook University. Gordon was working for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration so the image is in the public domain. Maximum image size is 1,796 x 1,180 pixels and 1.25 MB. More information is available from Wikipedia.

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11

2010-10-11T00:00:00.008-04:00

Making Rainbows

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It's been said that rainbows represent God's promise to mankind that terrestrial life would never be destroyed by flood. The colors and hues were easy to replicate in a lab setting. Prisms reflected and refracted light into the familiar pattern. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Purple.

It was the deathbow that interested one senior at Asgard University in Wisconsin. He sought to find a method of wrapping a curve of pitch black around the planet. He referred to this as the Holy Black Beam. This discovery, he reasoned, would break God's promise to mankind and invite a deluge that would envelope the planet and cleanse it of evil that had accumulated during the previous centuries.

But how could he shine blackness where there's light? Blackness can only exist with the absence of light. He could create materials that were black when you shined light on them. Scientists at universities on the east coast had nearly perfected the art of crafting a "pure black" coating that reflected absolutely no light. Nothing projected black beams.

It was frustrating research, though. No matter how many times he mixed different compounds he could never generate a Holy Black Beam. One time, he had gotten brown. This was the closest he had ever come, but even that was an anomaly because when he tried to repeat his discovery all he managed to produce was a wimpy, faint orange.

Nonetheless, the researcher persisted. It was worth it to put in years and years of effort if the payoff would be cleansing the planet. He worked tirelessly. Every experiment ended with either one of two results, though. He either produced a material through which no light could shine or produced yet another infernal rainbow.

As his machines hummed and whirred to catalyze certain chemical reactions, he doodled pictures of the Holy Black Beam in his laboratory notebook. He daydreamed of a world where a stealth bomber flies across the sky leaving a Black Beam in its wake. Then, the clouds spill their torrential showers with thunderclaps and powerful lightning strikes. This imagery was harmonious to him. It was almost therapeutic.

It was during one of these daydreams that things came together for the research. He had an epiphany, pulled a carbon rod from his supply drawer, and combined it with some silica gel at a particular temperature in with centrifuge.

The material glowed red-hot. He dropped it from the centrifuge onto his lab table. Light illuminated the room from standard incandescent light bulbs. Photons danced off walls, and some found their way passing into the silica-carbon compound. A prism formed. The researcher marveled. It was the glorious Holy Black Beam he had spent so much time searching for. He had finally learned how to achieve it.

The Holy Black Beam shown across the room. It was a very distinctive. It had no properties of transparency whatsoever. The researcher was ecstatic with glee. It was a magical moment for him. Then, the beam struck a mirror. It reflected as strongly as it had come from the original source. He had never seen a typical rainbow behave like that. The Holy Black Beam shown towards the researcher. It hit his chest, passed through him, and emerged from his back. He felt a tightness in his torso.

At that instant, the carbon-silica compound cooled and lost its prismatic properties. The black photons finished their reflections around the room, exited the room, and then journeyed harmlessly into the upper atmosphere. Meanwhile, the researcher had fallen to the floor. He cried in pain. He bled through damaged tissue in his chest and his back.

Another researcher from the neighboring lab came to find out what the commotion was. She saw him wrathing on the ground, and took out her phone to call 911 immediately. She waited with him, but he lost consciousness before the paramedics got there. They pronounced him dead when they got to the scene. Medical examiners listed the cause of death of a heart attack.

The researcher was never able to document the secret of the Holy Black Beam. Its dark powers had been limited to the single death. Rainbows continued to be the only arcs of light that could shine in Earth's atmosphere and terrestrial life on the planet was protected from another deluge.

The original photograph in an article about microencapsulation from Sandia National Laboratory that was published on December 16, 2008. The photograph was taken by Randy Montoya, and since Sandia is a nationally-funded laboratory and the photographer was performing an official duty, the image should be in the public domain. The photograph depicts Duane Schneider demonstrating a microencapsulation process that results in a chemical being encapsulated in a polymer shell. Much more detailed information about the fascinating process of microencapsulation is available in the article. The maximum image size is 3716px x 2534px and 3.4 MB. More information is available on Wikipedia.

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04

2010-10-04T00:00:00.062-04:00

Castle

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"Mom, it happened again," said Little Timmy. He stood on the front porch overlooking a rather large-sized pond that had formed in their yard overnight. When he didn't hear a response he yelled, "Mom!"

"What is it?" she called from her bedroom upstairs.

"Our yard is flooded!" he yelled.

A minute later, dressed in her night gown, Mom groggily stepped outside onto the porch to join her son. "Oh, for Christ's sake," she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for Little Timmy to hear her. "What do you want me to do about it?" she asked him.

"I don't know. Clean it up with a paper towel?" he suggested.

"C'mon. Get in the house and eat some breakfast."

When mother and son went inside, the devious pond monster surfaced and lurked onto their porch. "Somebody's going to get their breakfast," it hissed mischievously to itself. It discovered that mom had left the door unlocked. She had obviously been lulled by a false sense of security during previous floods when no pond monsters had come to eat her entire family. "Perfect," hissed the pond monster.

The pond monster opened the door and saw mom and Little Timmy with their backs to the doorway. It crept up behind mom and then smashed her over the head with its fist. Little Timmy turned and let out a loud scream. "Mommy! Mommy!" he called.

Mom was unconscious, though. The pond monster leapt at Little Timmy and easily overpowered him. It pushed its hand against his neck, choking him. After a minute the boy stopped moving. The monster moved over to mom to choke her, as well. Five minutes later, the pond monster hissed to itself, "Breakfast is served."

The moral of the story is: When floods come to your doorway, move to a different town instead of trying to patriotically rebuild your city. That's right... I'm talking to you New Orleans. Hurricane Katrina and the BP oil disaster both occurred in the same decade.

The original photograph depicts Schloss Mespelbrunn, which translated from German to English means "Mespelbrunn Castle". The photo was taken on August 22, 2010 by Rainer Lippert and has been released into the public domain. The location of this site is here. The Mespelbrunn Castle, a moated castle on the territory of the town of Mespelbrunn, is situated remotely in the Elsava valley in the Spessart (between Frankfurt and Würzburg). Since the early 15th century it has been owned by the family Echter of Mespelbrunn. The oldest parts were built in 1427, the current appearance was created from 1551 to 1569. Maximum image size is 4,873 x 3,130 pixels and 6.55 MB. More information is on Wikipedia.

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27

2010-09-27T00:00:00.005-04:00

The Lady

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Noel walked up to a bureaucratic-looking building within the Italian villa where she was spending her holiday. The address matched the one on the note that had been delivered to her hotel, The Sure Swan.

As she stepped through the doorway, she was greeted by a guard working by a metal-detector. She tossed her room key and cell phone into the little plastic bin and walked confidently passed the sensor. "Thank you," she said to the guard as she retrieved her things from the bin. "My note says to report to room 1187. Could you point me in the direction I need to go?"

The guard looked at her inquizitively. "That's the waiting room. Go down the hallway on your left, it'll be the first room on your right."

"Thanks, again," Noel smiled.

The waiting room reminded her of a doctor's office from when she was young. Magazines were available, but they were all several months old. The chairs were uncomfortable. Luckily, after about two minutes a man entered the room and called her to follow him.

They went down one hallway, then turned down another and took it until the end. A door led out to the building's patio. Different types of flowers were in bloom within the garden. Groups of small trees provided generous shade against the warm afternoon sun. The man gestured to Noel. "Sit down," he said.

She sat on a wooden bench. She asked, "Can I ask what you're going to..."

"Please, just don't move," he cut her off.

"Oh sorry," she said appologetically. A gang of birds flew out from a nearby tree in the direction of the valley. "If there's been some kind of misunderstanding, I'm sure..."

"Reaction time is a factor in this," he cut her off again. "Please pay attention and answer as quickly as you can."

"Sure," said Noel. He pulled out a stack of papers from his briefcase. She shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

"Room 7181 of The Sure Swan," he said.

"That's the hotel."

"What?"

"Where I'm staying."

"Nice place?"

"Sure, I guess," she said. She was confused. It was as if she'd been absorbed into a bad dream. "Is this part of the test?"

"No," he said. "Just warming you up."

She interjected, "It's not fancy or anything."

The man looked down at his papers. He flipped the page on top over and placed it to his right. "You're with some friends at a pool party. Somebody brought..."

"Is this the test now?" Noel interrupted the man.

"Yes," he answered. "You're with some friends at a pool party. Somebody brought a cooler..."

"Which ones?"

"What?"

"Which friends?"

"It doesn't make a difference which friends, it's completely hypothetical," answered the man patiently.

"But how come I'd be there?" asked Noel.

"Maybe it's a nice day out. Maybe you just wanted to have a little fun. Who knows?" Noel smiled slightly at this suggestion. "Somebody brought a cooler filled with Pepsi and Diet Pepsi, Noel. You're diabetic, so you..."

"Pepsi?" she repeated. "What's that?"

The man looked up at her. Before answering, he took a second to light a cigarette and take a brief drag. "Do you know what a Coca-Cola is?"

"Of course," Noel answered.

"Same thing."

"I've never had a coke," she said. "But I understand what you mean."

"You're diabetic, so you open the cooler to grab a Diet Pepsi when you discover that some prankster has torn the labels off all the bottles."

"Do you make up these questions?" asked Noel. "Or do they write them down for you?"

"Both are in identical plastic bottles, and as best as you can determine, the Pepsi inside looks identical in every way."

"What do you mean I can't tell the difference between them?" Noel snapped at the man.

The man leaned forward, "I mean you can't tell the difference. You look at them and they appear exactly the same." He paused to take another drag from his cigarette. "Without opening any of the bottles, how can you determine which bottles are filled with Diet Pepsi?"

Noel straightened her back and stared at the man. Hadn't he just said that she can't tell? Why is he now asking her how to tell the difference? Seconds passed. Noel simply stared blankly at the man.

He leaned back and relaxed his posture. "They're just questions, Noel. In answer to your query, they're written down for me. It's a test designed to provoke a logistical response." He took another drag from his cigarette. "Shall we continue?" Noel looked unsure of herself, but she nodded in agreement with him. He continued, "Describe in mathematical terms, only the computationally correct thoughts that come into you mind." He paused, "About the prisoner's dilemma?"

"The prisoner's dilemma?" repeated Noel. "I'll tell you about the prisoner's dilemma." A loud bang resounded. Noel stood up from the bench. She approached the man and kicked him as hard as she could in both of his shins. He sprawled onto the ground. She turned and sprinted off the patio and around the building. She sprinted down the road. She boarded the first bus that passed her. She never returned to The Sure Swan to retrieve her belongings.

The original photograph is a faithful reproduction of a painting called The Mona Lisa (a.k.a. La Joconde, La Gioconda) by Leonardo Di Vinci between 1503 and 1505. The painting was done as oil on poplar. It depicts a woman with a slight smile. It lives in the Louvre Museum in Paris. The filesize size is 3.34 MB 2,835 x 4,289 pixels. More information is available on Wikipedia.

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20

2010-09-20T00:00:00.122-04:00

Energy Defense

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Agent E yawned from his Chicago apartment. Three weeks had passed since he'd been called on by DHS to investigate a digital attack against the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant. He wondered why so much time had been allowed to pass in between assignments. Since aligning himself with the Department of Defense, he hadn't gone more than 9 days without having some sort of job. And that particular break followed a period of high-intensity action where he felt so worn-out that he had to tell them that he needed a week off to recharge himself.

But after three weeks, he felt more energized than ever before. Time to do some investigating of my own, he thought.

He jumped into the power grid and navigated it to Washington D.C. He lingered within the electric network to conceal his presence. He read from databases in CIA, FBI, and DHS. None of them had anything helpful. Agent E brute-forced past a router protecting the President's secure e-mail gateway and found a report entitled, "The New Canadian Information Security Threat".

Of course, thought E, that makes perfect sense! Immediately, he traversed the network to Ontario. He found himself in the gc.ca server. Holy maple leaf! This place is dangerous.

Some evidence pointed towards a computer facility underneath the Vancouver Olympic Centre. Seeking to understand the threat, he traveled there across the network. While en route, he experienced the most jarring pain that he'd ever felt. When he exited the electric network, he was in the Yukon Territory. What the heck? he wondered.

He jumped up and tried again to get to the Olympic Centre. This time, he traveled more slowly. Much more slowly. The sensation of pain began as a tingle. During the next 100 milliseconds, an eternity to Agent E, the pain grew stronger and more intense until finally he impulsed a powerful electric burst. The insulation around the wire split open and E's lifeforce trickled out through it. He felt dazed and confused. Agent E was lightheaded. He hadn't felt this way since the Great Northeast Power Blackout of 2003 when he had backed up the emergency power backup units for hospitals in a dozen states to keep 3,000 people alive.

Agent E found himself in the server room of the Vancouver Olympic Centre. He examined the split wire, and picked up a small piece of a mysterious material that had been installed. This is what had caused him so much pain. As soon as he touched it, he observed that it was only conductive in one direction. In his dazed state, he dropped the mysterious material and when it struck the floor it shattered into a million pieces. He shrugged. It would have been great to bring this thing home to examine it, but he wouldn't have been able to carry it with himself through the wires, anyway.

Meanwhile, Agent E was absolutely drained of energy. As much as he wanted to investigate the Canadian conspiracy further, it would be better to get back home to recharge. He made a brief traversal from the Olympic Centre server room to the Vancouver Train Station. He spent the next 8 hours riding the train south to Seatle. By then, he felt strong enough for a long-range traversal back to his Chicago apartment. Tomorrow, he'd called Director Sanborn from the Department of Homeland Security to ask about what he had learned in Vancouver.

The original photograph shows a flower perched on to of a piece of Silica Aerogel positioned above a hot bunsen burner. Silica Aerogel is an incredibly light solid material which, despite its name, does not have flexible properties of gels. Chemically, they're a type of glass that will shatter into a million pieces if hit with an impulse force. Strangely, they "catch" objects that fly into them, which makes them good for protecting precious cargo when they're applied as an outer layer. Aerogels also make great thermal insulators. More information is available at the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory Aerogel webpage. The image is a public domain NASA image. It's maximum filesize is 2,260x2,898 pixels and 5.75 MB. More information is available from Wikipedia.

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