Credit For Your Thoughts - Getting Schooled

Words zipped past Reg's view in his augmented reality as he read an eBook in class. He'd managed to program in his reading speed which allowed him to speed read through just about any book.

“Reggie, are you paying attention?” asked the teacher.

Miss Hooper, a tall blonde woman who looks about ready for a mid-life crisis by wearing jeans and a really tacky turtle neck sweater to a high school. Reg turned off his book feed of Advanced Survival Techniques: Deserts and cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I guess so.” sighed Reg.

Miss Hooper smiled dryly and turned back to the LED screen wall she was delicately writing on with a stylus. A lesson plan on beginning Calculus. Reg rolled his eyes and thought “Already read two books on Calculus, and even theoretical physics”.

Bored after a moment with the lesson plan, he straightened himself in his classroom integration chair. All he'd have to do to learn anything he wanted to know was use his neural up-link to sync with the school's galactic internet connection, key in a couple search terms, and upload the information to his brain.

Hell he could learn to be a five star chef in under a week if he really wanted to be. Reading was just something to keep occupied while he had to be forced to dredge himself to school every day. Most days he doesn't even learn anything from the classes.

“You're not actually paying attention, are you Reggie?”

Putting his hands on his temple, his frustration showed. Reg had always been ahead of the curve but for some reason the adults who were somehow in charge of him felt the need to drag him slowly through this muck of social awkwardness.

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Credit For Your Thoughts - Crashing the Party

Reggie gripped the bars on either side of his seat with white knuckles. Alarms assaulted his ears as Captain Marin barked orders to the crew of the S.S. Bold Horizons. The Aries class space Cruiser rocked with a vengeance as a bulkhead exploded nearby. Reggie’s ears nearly blew out from the sound of a panel being ripped from the steel hull.

“This isn’t going to end well for me…” thought Reggie with a pit in his stomach.

Somewhere inside him he knew the ship would land with few injuries on the crew at large. A coronal mass ejection blasted them from a nearby luminous giant star, causing havoc on all of the ship’s systems. Basic propulsion remained, but life support had been cut off nearly completely.

“Fire on deck C. Thermal couplings at critical. Gravity well fluctuating ten percent, please be aware of potential object momentum changing at a moment’s notice.”

Everything was going to hell in a hand-basket so quickly. Why did he have to get stuck in this with these people.


#####

Flipping through a manual, Reggie prodded a wire with a pair of pliers. His blonde hair was caked with grease along with his overalls. The smell of copper and oil permeated the air around him as he worked on a matter constructor’s connection to the battery vats.

“Looks like wiring isn’t much of a problem boss. Wherever your deficiency is it isn’t coming from these connections. What’s the viscosity level of the main vat? Do we need to adjust the silver levels?”

Placing his pliers on the floor, he stood up from kneeling and wiped his hands on his pants. Sipping from a mug of coffee he brought with for the early morning patch job, he pondered what was causing the constructor to construct everything at dangerous temperatures.

“Kinematic viscosity shows acceptable levels. Gravity field for gel vats are holding just fine.” replied Gareth standing attentively at the instrument station above.

Reggie wiped the dripping mess that was his brow. He’d been kneeling and crouching in small spaces for nearly two hours trying to troubleshoot the ship’s problem. Thankfully the panel behind the matter constructor was the last place to check. All he had to do now was fire it up and give it a test run.

Stepping lazily around a big black box with white horizontal lights protruding from either side, Reggie inspected the machine of his own design. Pressing a dark panel on the side, he felt his hand sink into the reactive gel. All he had to do was think it and it turned on.

“Alright then. Turns on just fine. It did before though. Gareth I’m gonna put a plain spanner through to see how it turns out.”

With a simple command a light steel spanner constructed itself in a flash of controlled light bursts.

“Here’s the real test… Ow! Son of a bitch!” exclaimed Reggie as his hand was scalded on the steel spanner.

An error code flashed on his augmented reality interface indicating temperature control failure for the unit. Gareth grabbed a small spray canister from his pocket and made his way down a steel ladder to the bottom floor of the supply room. He grabbed Reggie’s hand forcefully and sprayed the burned area completely.

“Didn’t forget this time man. What do you think it is?”

Reggie shook his head in defeat.

“I mean, could be a lot of things. Reconstructing matter from pure energy doesn’t mean it always dictates the level of energy each molecule has after reconstruction. It may put the pieces together just fine but it simply isn’t regulating how much energy is left over which could lead to very catastrophic consequences.”

Gareth cocked and eyebrow while stowing the bottle of burn spray. Placing his hand on the box, he looked down at it with wonder.

“Catastrophic? How catastrophic?”

Reggie pursed his lips and thought how best to illustrate it.

“Skipping the technical stuff, it could lead to fatal radiation or basically a nuclear explosion… of sorts.”

Gareth glanced down at the machine and retreated his hand slowly.

“Um, nuclear explosion?”

Reggie laughed as he thought about it for a moment.

“Ha! Yeah, we’d pretty much be making this a binary star system at that point I imagine.”

Gareth stepped away slowly from the machine and made his way back up the stairs.

“That’s… terrifying. Why do we have this thing on board?”

Bending down for his pliers, Reggie also grabbed the spanner and tapped it on the machine lightly. Gareth jumped as steel met steel.

“So that the captain can save like twelve percent on buying new equipment. I mean, I’m sure it’s also partly because then she can say she’s part of pioneering the tech. But I’m pretty confident it’s more so because of the first part.”

Laughing at Reggie’s truth was all Gareth could do. Captain Marin was a piece of work. She often demanded double shifts of support staff and rarely even acknowledged them. The only reason Reggie didn’t see more grief from her was because he developed the matter construction technology and he could leave with his prized machine any time he wanted.

“You’re absolutely right. It is more of the first part.” barked Captain Marin from the Supply Room door.

An Evolving Problem

Glancing slowly at the faintly glowing tablet in his hand, Doctor Yusuf scratched at his beard. A young man had come in complaining of lack of energy and no test had yielded any significant results. Thankfully he had just received a full genetic report on the young man and his family. Generations of his family had been dealing with a similar issue.

”Doctor Yusuf, Jeremy is here to see you.” chimed his secretary to his augmented reality interface.

He had been expecting an appointment with the young man in fifteen minutes. Jeremy must be early.

”Send him in I guess.” replied Yusuf with a sigh.

Something caught his eye on the tablet in front of him. A small line of genetic code seemed terribly out of place. With all of his research he only knew that combination to mean one thing. Yusuf sighed in relief that he had something substantial to share with Jeremy on why his condition persists.

Standing from his desk with tablet in his hand, he wiped down his face in frustration. He never liked giving news like this. Stepping out the door to his office he made his way to the exam room Jeremy had been sent to.

”Jeremy, so glad to see you. How are things?” asked Yusuf as he opened the door and greeted the haggard looking young man.

With a weak sigh, he simply shrugged.

“Eh, same old. Still tired. Still hoping. Anything new?” asked Jeremy.

In his mid twenties he certainly was a sad sight to see. Scrawny and looking terribly malnourished, Jeremy certainly appeared to have some problems.

“Well yes, there is. Unfortunately I’m not sure it’s entirely good news. It’s not necessarily bad news though.”

Doctor Yusuf sat on his chair in front of Jeremy and pat him on the shoulder. Jeremy smiled weakly. Clearing his throat, Yusuf prepared to share his insight with his patient.

“So, I’ve been looking through your genetic report and I may have some idea why you’re so tired all the time. It may be hereditary on your father’s side.”

Pulling up the protein string on his tablet, he put it side to side with his father’s.

“Wha?” blurted out Jeremy. He seemed shocked.

“Your father’s medical records indicate malnutrition and blood pressure problems are a constant for him. Can you think of any life factors that would make it that way for him?”

Jeremy thought for a moment and took a deep sigh. His eyes grew dim in sadness.

“I mean, my family has always been kinda poor. My Dad works sixty hours a week on average pretty much every week just to keep our apartment even. He usually doesn’t eat until he gets home. I’ve known for a while he’s been unhealthy but… Can that really impact my life that much?”

Jeremy’s eyes welled up and his breathing got staggered. Doctor Yusuf didn’t know what to say besides the truth.

“Well, yes. It absolutely can. Stress in life does a lot of crazy things to our bodies and it definitely can be passed down to our kids. Why do you think there’s such a big push for people to be healthy?”

Jeremy’s face hardened with frustration.

“So now I have to live every day of my life tired because my Dad worked himself unhealthy?”

Doctor Yusuf thought for a moment. That statement didn’t feel right.

“Actually… A genetic deficiency like this would take generations to develop to this degree. Was your grandfather living in poverty as well?” asked Doctor Yusuf.

Jeremy thought for a moment and scowled.

“Yeah, my family has been poor since the early ninteen-forties…” he replied with venom in his voice.

Doctor Yusuf sat back in his chair in disbelief. He knew poverty was a difficult issue to tackle, but if his family has been living as such for more than a century it very well could have led to this in his life.

For all the technology and the medicine at his disposal, he had no fix for generations of people living with the stresses of not having their basic needs met. Never before as a doctor had he encountered such a problem.

Placing his tablet on the desk next to him he looked Jeremy in the eye seriously.

“Listen. Jeremy. I can’t fix society for you but I can do everything in my power to make your life better.”

The young man met his gaze with daggers. Anger was welling in this poor boy. Doctor Yusuf didn’t know what to say.

“I appreciate that doc… So… What exactly can we do?” asked Jeremy.

Picking up the tablet and tapping Jeremy on the shoulder, Yusuf got an excited look in his eyes.

“Well, let’s take a look shall we.”

Putting the tablet in front of Jeremy, Doctor Yusuf began to run down his treatment options for extreme fatigue.

The Blockbuster Experiments

Working steadfast into the night, Professor Friday hunched over an ornate lab table riddled with devices. His lab coat was stained with butter and salt from his weekly binges after hours. Glasses hung from his neck while he watched a thin strand of black fiber weave itself into a bigger band. A computer printer fed a near-endless stream of paper with zeros and ones to the white laminate tile floor below.

“That's right... That's it... You just keep spinning my thread little one. You have no idea how important you will be to the future of humanity!”

He cackled lightly to himself as he sat hunched over the table. A knocking on the full pane window behind startled him and he sat up straight. Looking behind him, a red haired boy about fourteen was waving a movie in the air.

“Hey, since you're here can I return this now so I don't get the late fee?”

Mike instantly put his glasses up on his face and blushed. Nodding, he pointed towards the main door of the video store he owned. He had simply hoped that no one caught him turning it into a lab at night.

Opening the door for the boy, Mike grabbed the VCR tape from him and looked at the rental code on it.

“Ah, yes, Total Recall. I'll be sure to put a note on this one. Thanks for bringing it back.”

Mike and the boy stood there awkwardly for a moment, until finally the boy spoke up.

“So what were you doing in here?” he glared over at the counter's plethora of strange instruments. “You own the place I'm assuming?”

Mike cocked an eyebrow and opened the door a bit for him.

“What are you kid, a cop? Yeah I own the place.” motioning inside the store If you really wanna know I'll show ya. You like movies I take it?”

Straightening his light brown and balding hair, Mike cleared his throat. He had been itching to tell someone about his experiment. Goodness knows his ex-wife isn't going to give a hoot.

The boy seemed reluctant to enter the corner blockbuster store at eleven-thirty at night with a strange man. Despite what was likely his better judgment, he entered the store. It reeked of popcorn and fresh printer paper. Mike walked him over to the counter and opened the small door for employees only. Beckoning him over, the boy walked over to the black thread weaving back and forth.

His jaw was dropping at how quickly the thread was being so precisely woven.

“Beautiful isn't it?”

Mike smirked as the boy looked up in wonder at him.

“Wow! My Mom would love one of these! She always talks about how it'd be so much cheaper if she could weave her own fabric and-”

Placing a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder, Mike chuckled.

“No no, kid. You don't understand. This isn't your typical fabric. It's a DNA storage fabric!”

The boy hit him in the leg lightly.

“Don't touch me!” Mike immediately withdrew his hand and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, didn't mean anything by it. Anyway, this fabric has every movie ever made recorded into the very DNA of the fabric! Right now it's weaving the tape I'll need to put it inside a special VCR and I can watch every movie ever made!”

He looked at the weaving with a renewed curiosity. It clearly intrigued him.

“Whooooaaahhh....”

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An Independent Celebration

Standing with a vitamin water in one hand, playing with her curly brown hair in the other, Cheryl leaned on the cubicle wall. Sitting in the chair that occupied the cubicle, Laurie sat with a magazine in her hands as the two chatted for a quick break.

“Can you believe this? The new guy is skipping the work fourth party to uphold a camping tradition? Who the hell goes camping on the fourth of July?!”

Cheryl opened the bottle in her hand and took a drink. Laurie looked up at her, her golden blonde hair straightened and in a ponytail. Resting the magazine on her leg, she looked up and gave a strange look.

“Right?! How did he even manage to get out of it? Isn't the company picnic kind of a mandatory thing?”

Pointing at her with the bottle of water, Cheryl's face distorted to a level of annoyance that Laurie had never seen.

“Seriously! I've got at least two other parties I could be going to, not even to mention how we have to plan our family get together around me having to work. Twenty other people all have it off and I'm stuck here because Tom thinks it's 'Good for work cohesion' or whatever.”

Laurie set the magazine down on the desk to pick up a nail file.

“Don't we normally make the newbies bring the potluck stuff? We're gonna be down a dish for all of us thanks to that. What an ass hole!”

As she filed her nail a door opened on the other side of the cubicle and a man poked his head out. With a grin on his face, he spoke in condescending tones.

“Well girls, he wrote on his resume this is something he does every year. And if you wonder why he gets it off and not you, is because he's far more qualified for his job and definitely delivers as such. What are you earning yourself by bitching about someone else's life?”

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A Wake Up Call With A Snooze Button

Staring at the TV, Gary scratched his belly. Laying down across the couch was all he could do to keep from falling asleep. Life had gotten so dull lately. Everything was generally the same day to day. Work at the office was always boring. Being a pencil pusher made it difficult to get in the right mindset to spice up your life.

“In other news, a local gas station is under investigation for a string of murders-”

Grabbing the remote, he turned off the TV. It clicked silent to leave his mind to wander. Here he was, thirty-two with a steady job, bills are paid, fun money is there. Yet something just doesn't feel right. How could he have all of this opportunity of the world at large in front of him with no desire to explore it. Where did all the drive go?

Is work really that soul sucking? Should we rally to automate everything so people never have to work again? More people would get behind that than you'd think. Although perhaps thinking was the problem. You can spend all day thinking about what you want to do but it never really gets you doing it. Sitting up on the couch, Gary straightened his shirt to cover his slight beer belly. His brown hair was mussed up like he'd just rubbed a balloon to create static.

It may as well have been static with the cloth the old couch was made of. Looking around the room, he realized there was something he hadn't done in a very long time. Pictures of him in hiking gear out at Boulder Hill Trail. It had taken him three hours to find his way back from the vantage point he finally decided on for the picture.

Standing up he walked over to the small bookshelf with pictures of his various escapades. Somewhere something went dull and made these things less interesting. Or did it? Does the rut of work life truly take the joy out of home life? It seems to be a likely explanation. You only have to spend all day entering numbers and printing documents once to realize it becomes a very dull and lifeless kind of job.

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Edward and the Raven

Lilac. That's the smell that always brought Ed out to this nature trail. Dirt whispered beneath his feet as a soft breeze tickled the leaves of the oak trees. A small lilac bush grew wild amid the trail, surrounded by various other plants of all kinds. Trekking through the thinly beaten path of dirt and grass led him exactly where he wanted to go.

He trudged this path wearing a new pair of brown cargo pants, a thin t-shirt with the logo of his favorite beer "Shweitzer", and some basic sneakers. The week had been crazy working behind the bar. Being a bartender downtown meant an inordinate amount of people every night. It was a good living for sure. But hardly an ideal one for an introvert.

Wind blew and reminded him again of the smell of lilacs. This time it was accompanied by a smell he was entirely unfamiliar with. Musty. Earthy. Moldy. Mixing with the lilac creating a strange bitter-sweetness in his mind. Pulling out his phone, he checked the map he kept pulled up for long hikes.

This park had miles of trails. All of them were mapped, mind you. So even if he had no idea where he really was, he could check at any time. GPS was faltering, and couldn't pinpoint his location. No matter. It's not like he'd never been around this trail before. Rustling of a bush caught his attention, and he looked quickly to his right to see a deer prancing out of view.

Strange. He had never seen a trail branch off to the side. The tree line grew thick, and unfamiliar. Though he'd seen this trail before, this looked new. A small, incredibly worn down wood sign had a crude steel square on it, marked in sharpie with the words "Trail Closed". That's all Ed needed to see. Any time there's a trail closed sign he was sure to follow it down all the way to the end.

More often than not, it led to another trail that led to the main circuit. Sometimes it led to a dead end, and he simply followed it back. Not much to lose really. The grass grew taller and scattered between the gnarled oak branches. Something felt strange about them. Ed had never seen Oak trees grow with their branches entwined like that.

This trail must be something terribly special. The smell of tall grass and lilac faded, as a neutral smell of bark and mold permeated from the trail. Ahead of him the trail continued on a beaten path while oak branches gnarled even tighter and began to limit the light getting through.

It bent and curved for what felt like a good mile. Filled with the same plants, same trees. The only difference in scenery was the smell. Things started to smell cleaner. Fresher. More open. With a hint of musty mildew. Not long after noticing the smell, a cave appeared on the trail ahead. As he approached, the rustling of leaves startled him.

A raven flew out from the trees and landed on the path in front of him. It looked right at him. Stopping dead in his tracks, Ed felt a strange tinge of anxiety creep into his mind. Something didn't feel right. Yet it felt like if he didn't investigate, it would feel even worse. Cawing once, the raven picked at the ground. It picked up a small stone, round and neatly polished.

It looked back at Ed, and lifted it's wings to take off. Gracefully it flew up and back around into the cave behind it.

"Well then..." Ed muttered to himself.

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Make the Mose of it

My name is Mose. I'm a zombie, technically. See, the metropolis I lived in was cursed and buried under like, a whole crap load of sand for a hand full of centuries. Although I didn't know him before all this happened, a pretty stand up guy named Kim rose me from the dead. Now, I know what you're thinking:

“Black magic?! Exile him! He is a necromancer!”

Sure, he may be meddling in powers beyond his understanding, but he's actually doing it to be nice! Did you know that he managed to tweak his spell to make us not feel negative emotions? It's certainly splendid if I do say so myself! I lost my eyeball last week and well, it all seems pretty funny the longer time goes on.

I'm sure it'll turn up one of these days! Anyway, Kim is a stand up guy I tell ya and all he wants in the whole wide world is to be accepted into the Mage's Academy in Freya. The town and I really love the guy and we will miss him dearly, but we want to help him move forward in life. So we all thought we would write letters to the academy directors and tell you why he deserves to develop his skills there!

There was this one time, when Deloris lost her left thumb, he actually grew one from the side of a pig and re-attached it to her! Golly gee she was sure happy to be able to play racket ball with us again. We had gone every Tuesday for weeks and one week she passed out at a party and woke up without it! Gotta lay off that cactus juice sometimes you know?

Well, I'm rambling, so I suppose I'll just close with reminding you Kim really is a great guy. Give him a chance, and you'll make more than just him happy! Thank you sir and/or madame!

 

Sincerely,

Mose

In Between Moments - The Strangeness of Quiet

It's strange. This quiet calm. It's like a momentary reprieve from what our lives have become. Explosions. Gun fire. Men shouting out orders. I live in a war zone. Why are people fighting here? I honestly can't tell you. I don't fight for either side, I just live here. My home land has become ragged and worn down, if not destroyed in many places. Asphalt lay littered in the streets, along with the garbage both sides bring. Explosions from either side have torn holes in our favorite restaurants. Have made us find another grocery store to provide food for our families. And even made our families find other ways to educate and keep our kids safe during the day. 

Despite the destruction, there is peace yet to be found here. In moments like this. Where regardless of the reasons, both sides cease to destroy. Here I sit, in my bullet ridden car, trying to get into town to pick up groceries on the safer side of town. Everyone is quiet. No one says a word. Why? Because it's not often we get quiet like this. The serene stillness of the air. Hearing with wind blow, without the smell of gunpowder. It's strange, but it's moments like these that keep us going. The hope that our lives may once again return to the normal quiet. Watching the trees slowly sway in the breeze, and actually hearing the clatter of leaves.

Hearing a stranger on the side walk crinkle a bag as they walk home from the store. A couple enjoying small talk on their door steps, while the rest of us just enjoy the peace. We all know it will continue again, and perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps there is a reason there is fighting here, perhaps there isn't. Regardless of the reasons, this is what we have for the moment. Peace and quiet. And perhaps all that fighting, all that destruction and loss, is exactly the reason we appreciate that peace and quiet. I know our struggles are more directly life threatening than most. But the concept is the same.

We do not appreciate the peace and quiet without the chaos and the noise. So while the breeze still blows, and the quiet still remains, I will enjoy it. Because I know once the fighting begins again, we will not have the time to look back on this moment until we have another like it again. Thank you moment. While you may be a small shred of peace in between all the chaos, I will appreciate you regardless.

The Last Life to Live

Name's Wayne. I'm just a simple guy, looking for something so complex you can't possibly comprehend the nature of it's existence. If there is a purpose to it, it's a cosmic joke. Someone, somewhere is laughing at my pain. My suffering. Glowing bright red it can attach itself to any surface and move about with a speed that doesn't seem natural. I feel like it's haunted me in past lives... And will continue to haunt me until the day I die.

It's been on my mind a lot more than normal lately. Something just doesn't feel right. Bruce has been distant as of late... Can't say I blame her. Someone who is so obsessed with something they may never be able to obtain can't possibly be healthy to be around. Maybe that's why I feel more stressed than normal. Haven't had my gal at my side when I need her most.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Bruce is a girl? Well you can't blame her for the name her crazy mother gave her. Needless to say once she could get out of that house she did. No need to keep ties with people who seem hellbent on making your life infinitely more difficult. What are parents for though, right? I need something to calm my nerves.

Standing up from my desk I know what I need the most. A glass of warm milk. It isn't just a bedtime tradition for me. It was the only way for me to relax without having Bruce around. There's just something about it that calms the soul. Relaxes you. Or maybe that's just me. My office is a mess. I may want to think about cleaning it up.

But when you're so obsessed with finding out as much as you can about the red, cleanliness isn't exactly on your mind. Papers are strewn out across the floor, marked with sightings of the red. The boxes I had kept them in are all empty and lining the room. It's been appearing more and more lately, and not just to me. It seems like it's been haunting the entire town. Even Jerry, the town rat has been getting grief from it.

Walking through the papers was difficult without disturbing them. So much for being a professional detective. I'm not sure if having so much research material out like this is seen as a sign of a thorough job, or insanity. Either way, people still seem to keep coming through to find what they're looking for. No matter what that may be. A lost toy, a lost love, and even their lost sanity.

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