Author: Wayne Cole Page 1 of 22

Fiction Fragment Friday

I started writing this story and had no less than five ideas for who the main character was talking to. The answer though was less important to me than the conversation. Now that this story is out I doubt it will be one I go back to in the future to edit or rewrite.

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                Every year it gets harder and harder to shop for Christmas.  When nieces and nephews are young, I am always the cool uncle who knows just what to buy them.  As they get older though and outgrow all the things I think are cool, I find it harder to relate to them.  Adults have always been harder to buy for, but I at least used to have creative thoughts about it.  As I get older, though, the time between talking to those I care about gets longer and longer.  Christmas shopping just drives home how little I actually know about anyone other than myself.  It is not a pleasant feeling.      

                “You could just go with cash or a gift card.”  My first instinct upon hearing the voice is to look around, but there won’t be anyone to see.  There isn’t even a sound for anyone around me to hear.  Her voice exists only in my head, and I still don’t know who or what she is.  What I find most annoying is that she is aware of my thoughts while I only hear a disembodied voice in return. 

                “No, that’s so impersonal. It just screams that I know nothing about a person or what they might like.”  People around me in the store stare at me when I speak, but that is why I keep an earpiece in.  They all just think I’m talking on the phone.  She has told me I can just think about my responses to her, but that just doesn’t feel like natural communication to me.

                “You don’t know anything about them, though.  That’s the problem.  If you just admitted it, you could buy generic gift cards and be done with all the stress.  Think about all the other things you could do with your time instead of wandering around a store that you hate, hoping something will jump out at you.”       

                She wasn’t wrong.  It was miserable being out in the crowds the day after Thanksgiving, just hoping that inspiration would strike.  I let out an audible sigh that was part frustration and part feelings of defeat.  “The best part of giving gifts for me is seeing the look on someone’s face when surprised by something they didn’t know they wanted or even existed.  I don’t get that when giving a gift card.  No one remembers who gave them a gift card, but when you find that perfect give that everyone is talking about.”

                “So, gift giving is less about what they want and more about how it makes you feel?”   

                “It sounds kind of bad when you put it like that.  Sounds selfish.”

                “Does that make it any less accurate?”

                I put the big fluffy blanket I was holding back into the bin.  “No,” I say, not even trying to hide the frustration from my tone.  I hate it when my own hypocracy gets pointed out.  She was right, and I knew it, but that didn’t change how I felt at all.  “There are so few things in life that bring me joy these days.  Just let me have this one thing.” 

                I walk briskly across the store.  The surrounding people could only hear half of my conversation, but the half they heard was enough to make me start feeling embarrassed.  I felt bad enough about not really knowing the people on my list, but now I also felt like a selfish jerk making everything about myself.  Let’s not forget I also feel like I am losing my mind, not sure if the voice in my head is real or a symptom of some kind of mental breakdown.                 

                “Are you ever going to tell me what you are?” I ask like I have so many times before.   This question is normally met with silence, but this time she answers.

                “I could tell you, but where would the fun be in that?  It’s so much more amusing to keep you guessing.”     

                “Why do you enjoy torturing me so much?  Do you want me to question my sanity?”

                “I enjoy it because you think you deserve it.  Maybe I’m just some buried part of your psyche, an implanted alien device, or a ghost that’s haunting you.  What do you want me to be?”

                I actually think about what answer would make me feel most comfortable before answering.  In the end, it doesn’t matter what I want though.  “All I really want is to hear the truth.  Too much of what happens in my head is lying to myself.  You aren’t me.  I just know that is true.”

                “That’s where you’re wrong, but also right.”

                I spin around, waving my arms in the air at nothing, and scream.  “Enough of the damn riddles.  What are you?”

                “Sir, you are causing a scene.”  An employee in a blue vest holding a walkie talkie is standing in front of me.  She looks nervous about confronting me. 

                “I’m so sorry.  I’ll just go,” is all I can think to say as I turn towards the front of the store, leaving my cart in the aisle.  My face has to be turning red with embarrassment.  It is better to leave now though before they get security and ask me to leave.       

                She is laughing in my head.  “Oh, my, that is priceless.” 

                “Just shut up,” I mumble under my breath.   

                “Ok, how about this?  I’m you, but I’m something you came into contact with as well.  A little bit of you, a little bit of it, and voilà you get me.  Aren’t you lucky?”

                The answer leaves me with more questions, but I can feel that she won’t be giving me any more answers for the time being.  I’ll just have to be glad to have gotten what little bit of an answer I did.  It feels kind of like being given a cliffhanger.       

Fiction Fragment Friday

Like quite a few of my Fiction Fragment Fridays this story was inspired by a dream. In the dream the test drive was of a car, but being me I wanted to spice it up a bit and transitioned to a space ship. How much of it was straight from my dream vs something I came up with while writing the story? I’m the only one who will ever know.

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               If we were test flying ships for me why was dad piloting, I asked myself a moment before the g-forces pushed me back into my seat.  It was a ship I was interested in, but not my first choice.  I wanted something reliable and didn’t need anything quite so flashy.  The retractable port cover above the cockpit had to give an incredible view, but dad didn’t seem to even notice it.  “You’ll have to be careful with the power on this one.  Easy to break regulations without even meaning to,” he said from the front seat.  That’s right I wasn’t even in the copilot seat he had me in the back while the salesman sat next to him.

               “If it’s going to be mine, shouldn’t I test fly it?” I asked not really expecting much of an answer.  I could practically feel the enjoyment radiating off him.  He was having the time of his life. 

               “I’ll pull us into orbit around Mars and you can bring us home from there,” he said in answer to my question.  This was a trip around Saturn and back.  Mars to Earth orbit was the tiny last leg of the journey.  I wasn’t even sure how much I could learn about the ship in such a straightforward part of the flight plan.  It was good to see him enjoying himself for a change though, so I decided to just go with the flow.

               I looked towards the salesman.  “You know this ship caught my attention, but I was concerned about the price since it was a bit dirty and would need cleaning.  That could be a sign of poor maintenance if they didn’t care to keep it clean.”  He turned back to face me, but dad interjected before he could reply.

               “Don’t be ridiculous son.  This baby flies like a breeze.  So smooth,” dad said completely destroying my first attempt at bartering the price down.  I tried to hold back my sigh but needn’t of bothered.  Neither of them was paying attention to me anymore.

               I decided to take a different tactic.  “You know I had a ship kind of like this.  The Sr-43 before my last ship.”

               “Oh, the Sr-43 can’t compare to this beauty.”  The salesman completely dismissed my comment, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had lost any opportunity to save money in this transaction.  That is the part that was frustrating me most.  I was paying for this ship not my father.  It was my money and my decision.  As much as I wanted it I couldn’t afford the price listed and a part of me wanted to pick a different ship out of spite. 

               Dad pulled the ship into a parking orbit around Mars and unstrapped his safety belt.  “Check this out, you can disable the gravity plating,” he said as he hit a button on the dashboard.  I watched him float out of his seat weightless towards the back row of chairs.  “Remember to take it slow at first.  This has more power than anything you’ve ever flow.” 

               I unbuckled my own belt and floated to the pilot seat without saying a word.  In that moment I was afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I did speak.  Once strapped back in I turned the gravity plating back on and started adjusting all the settings to my own personal preferences.  Before I even finished adjusting the display screen orientation, I hit the button to open the upper port.  By default, the only view out from the cockpit was through a front port.  I looked up as the entire ceiling of the cockpit retracted back revealing the largest viewing port I had ever seen.  The view of Mars through it was spectacular and, in that moment, I fell in love with the ship.

               “Huh, I didn’t even notice that was there,” my dad said, but I was too speechless to respond.  I knew in that moment I had to have this ship despite the price.  I made me final few setting adjustments but found it difficult to actually start my flight.  I didn’t want to leave the view.  Finally, I hit the button to close the larger viewing port above us leaving only a smaller rectangle port in addition to the front port.  It was time to see what the ship could do for myself.

                 I started the engines and was immediately startled by how much acceleration was provided.  The ship really was more powerful than anything I had ever flown before, but I was able to make the transition smoothly and pull away from orbit.  Though it was difficult I managed to hide any indication of surprise from my face.  I might have lost a lot of ground on the bartering front, but I wasn’t going to give away my thoughts or admit I was impressed by any aspect of the ship. 

               Halfway to Earth I knew that any reservations I had were gone.  This was going to be my ship no matter how much it cost.  That didn’t mean it was perfect though.  The ship did need a cleaning and the chair was not the most comfortable I have been in.  “The price still seems a bit high,” I said quietly towards the salesman in my copilot seat.  I didn’t want Dad joining in this conversation.

               “What do you mean I haven’t even set the price yet,” he replied.

               I brought up the basic info the ship was broadcasting in the docking bay salesroom.  “It says here that it’s 5,800 credits.”

               He read the details and did an excellent job of pretending he had never seen it before.  I’m sure the act would have fooled most people, but being able to see through lies was part of my job as a reporter.  “I’m not sure where that came from, but it certainly does look to be in the right ballpark.  I am open to counter offers of course.” 

               “3,200 credits,” I said giving him a lowball offer I knew he would never accept.  Of course, dad was listening and once again undercut my negotiations.

               “Come on son, give him a real offer.  Do you feel how she responds?  Maybe you didn’t notice the maximum acceleration settings.” 

               The salesman could not keep the smile off his face.  “Well said Mr. Pohl.  I’ll tell you what.  I thick with some aggressive accounting I can get the price down to 5,600 credits for you.”

               I knew any leverage I had was gone, but I had to keep trying.  “4,000 credits.” 

               “Please don’t waste both of our time.  You have felt the power and seen the view.  You either understand the value or you are not the right customer for this fine vessel.  5,200 credits and that is my final offer.”  He gave me a smug smile. 

               “4,800 credits and you have your people clean the ship prior to my taking ownership.  That is my final offer.  You are just the first stop of the day and I have plenty of other dealers who would also love my money.”  I had to push down my bitterness.  I knew I could have gotten him down under 5,000 credits if Dad had not undercut me.  I just hoped he would come down one final time because after flying it I knew I needed this ship.

               “You drive a hard bargain.  How about we meet at 5,000 credits and call it a day?”  He smiled knowing he had won and was selling the ship for much over his actual lowest acceptable price.”

               “Deal,” I said, and I could not keep my annoyance out of my voice.  Eventually I would just be happy that I had such an amazing ship, but in that moment I felt defeated.  He had won and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.                          

Fiction Fragment Friday

This draft is as rough as it comes. I had a story concept, but I really struggled to get the story out in a short format. I’m having this happen more often lately and it makes me think I really need to put time towards some longer form fiction. I think there is a gem in this story, but it needs a lot more polishing.

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                I’ve never been more nervous to initiate an interstellar jump than I was jumping into the Altair system.  It wasn’t the jump itself or dangers in the system that had my anxiety on edge, but the distress signal broadcasting from Altair Station.  The problem is that the station doesn’t exist anymore and hasn’t for a decade.  An experiment at the research station had a catastrophic chain reaction that left only debris orbiting the star.  I know this for a fact because I was there and barely escaped with my life.  I had nightmares for years after. 

                Upon arrival, I did a full scan of the system.  My mind was racing with memories, but I couldn’t let anyone else take this job.  It was too personal.  I’m not sure what I was expecting to find, but it certainly wasn’t an intact Altair Station hailing me.  I could feel a panic attack forming, but my suit injected a sedative to counteract the effects.  Even so, I focused on my breathing for a moment until I regained control.  Only when I was sure it had subsided did I hit the button to answer the hail.

                On the screen was a face I could never forget.  Zora Crate looked exactly like I remembered her.  I had such a crush on her when I was a fresh cargo vessel pilot, and she was the low-ranking communication officer at the station.  She didn’t make it off the station, but there she was on the screen looking like she had not aged a day.  “Unknown vessel, your transponder code is broadcasting, but there seems to be a protocol issue.  Please identify yourself and state your purpose for coming to Altair.”

                She didn’t seem to recognize me, but I wouldn’t expect her to after all this time.  Unlike her, I had changed a lot.  “Hello Altair Station, this is Longstrider.  I’m switching to the older protocols now.”  I opened the archive subsystem and loaded the communication protocols that I updated five years prior.  “Transmitting now.”

                “Acknowledged Longstrider we are receiving now.  What brings you all the way out here?”

                “I’m here in response to your distress signal.  Hoping you can explain what’s going on here.”  I wanted to ask how the station even existed, but something deep in the back of my brain was telling me not to ask.  Maybe it was just seeing Zora again.

                “I don’t know what you mean, Longstrider.  We have broadcasted no distress signals.  If we had, trust me, I would know.”  She looked down to read her screen for a moment and I could see her face go stern.  “Please proceed to docking port 7 and we can get this all sorted out.”

                I didn’t like the look on her face but set course for docking port 7 anyway because the only place that might hold answers was onboard the station.  Upon docking, I was once again surprised when station security met me at the airlock with weapons raised.  Zora was standing behind them.  “I don’t know who you are, but you picked the wrong identity to impersonate.  I know Jacob and you aren’t him.  Now you can do yourself a favor and come quietly, or you can do me a favor and resist.”        

                I held up my hands slowly, trying to avoid startling anyone.  “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

                That was when the worst headache I had ever experienced smashed into my skull.  I was on the floor curled up in a ball screaming in pain with no idea how I had gotten there.  Some distant part of my mind registered that I wasn’t the only one screaming.  There inside the door, my younger self was going through the same pain I was. Our eyes locked on each other and in that moment, we could hear each other’s thoughts.  I pushed my memories of the station’s destruction and my failure to get Zora off. “Do better than I did,” I thought to him. 

                Zora and the security team rushed to my younger self’s side.  I pushed through the pain and stumbled back through the airlock onto my ship.  Once my younger self and I couldn’t see each other anymore, the pain subsided.  “Computer, disengage lock and prepare for departure.”  I slid into my chair and set course for the outer system, spinning up the jump drive.  As I pulled back from the station power onboard, my scout flickered.  I checked the sensors, only to find that the station was no longer there.  Where it was just moments before was only the expected debris field.

                My com system was flashing with one missed message, so I hit play.  There on the screen, my wife Zora and our daughter Gina smiled back at me.  “Hey hon, hope everything is going ok out there.  I just wanted to remind you of dinner with your folks tomorrow.  If you can’t make it back in time, please don’t wait until the last minute to tell me again.”  The image cut off.  I ran one last sensor scan of the system for my report.  Nothing out of the ordinary and no sign of anything that could have sent the distress signal.  It chalked it up to just another unsolved mystery and set course back home.            

Fiction Fragment Friday

This story was very loosely inspired by a dream. When I started writing it and realized it was going to be a Benjamin Eversole story I knew that most of the dream inspiration went out the window. The dream itself was a very complicated one where I had a daughter that did not know that I was her father. There were also mice and rats all through the house that she lived in and I was trying to deal with them. When I told her in the dream that I was her father she was upset at me for keeping it from her all that time.

I know this story doesn’t seem inspired by that dream at all, but it is strange how the most minor of things from an inspiration source can develop into something so different.

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                It was the most horrible sight I had ever been proud to see.  My cat; Captain Meowregard Octavious McClaws, Captain for short; trotted towards me with something the size of a dead rat in his mouth.  At first, I thought it was some weird mutated red rat, but as he got closer, I could make out more details.  The thing had little horns sticking out of its head, a forked tail, and a very flat face.  It was much dead though if the missing throat was any indication.  The scent of burnt sulfur hit my face and almost overwhelmed me.

                “That’s a good kitty Captain.  “Now why don’t you drop the horrible abomination and go get a drink to wash out your mouth?”  I pitched my tone high and praising hoping that just for once he would actually do what I asked him.  He being a cat completely ignored me and started shaking the creature in his mouth back and forth.  When I reached out to take it, Captain hissed and swiped a claw at my hand.  Then he hopped up on my bead and dropped the bleeding corpse right on my pillow.  After circling three times he lay in a ball on my blanket and meowed.

                As any well-trained human knows this was my signal to pet his head exactly three times telling him he is a good boy before stepping back.  If I pat him four times, he will flip over presenting his tummy and latch onto my hand with his claws and teeth.  I grabbed a bag of cat treats from my bookshelf and dropped a handful of them on the bed far away from the present he had presented me with. 

                A thorough examination of the thing laying on the pillowcase I would soon be pitching in the trash told me that it was some sort of demon.  An imp to be more precise.  There are twelve varieties of demons, but I had only personally encountered demons of nightmare and desire.  I knew that imps were fairly week pyromaniacs who enjoyed torturing the young, old, and infirmed.  Basically, anyone they thought would be weaker than themselves.  Outside of the basics though I really didn’t know much about demons.  It was far from my area of study. 

                “I suppose I really shout expand my areas of study if I’m going to call myself the Mystical Guardian of St. Louis,” I mused to myself.

                  “You could just stop calling yourself that.  You already spend too much time reading.  We should watch more movies instead.”  Lily my pixie roommate zipped around the room.  She didn’t seem capable of staying in one place very long.  I suppose when you are only a couple inches tall and prey for most wild animals you learn to keep moving.  She finally caught sight of the dead imp on my pillow.  “Eww, I hope you plan on burning that pillowcase.” 

                  “That’s probably a good idea, but what do I do with the body?  These things are fireproof even when dead.” 

                “It’s not dead,” she said with complete confidence.  “It’s just playing dead.”

                I turned back towards the demon just in time to see it leap through the air at my face.  The wound on its neck had healed completely and very sharp looking claws had grown from its fingers.  No matter what Lily might tell you I did not scream like a startled child.  It was a very manly battle cry I let out as I stumbled backwards with a ten-pound imp riding me to the ground.  Blood soaked my shirt from the claws digging into my chest.  I was not wearing any of my gear so I would be limited to my stored reserves of energy. 

                Thankfully I wouldn’t need to use any of my magic on the thing.  As I started to gather my energy Captain leapt from the bed pouncing on the imp.  My chest was shredded as it tried to hold on, but my cat was far too tough. Captain Meowregard’s claws smacked the imp faster than my eyes could follow.  It backed towards the door right into Maximillion the Magnificent, my dog who I call Max for short.  Max grabbed him by the neck and shook him before tossing him to the ground and wondering why he wasn’t playing anymore.  Lily was firmly perched on the top of my bookshelf.  She was not a fan of my pets. 

                “See vicious creatures.  I don’t know why you let them stay inside where us civilized folks live.”  She crossed her arms over her chest, and I had to fight back a smile.  She was adorable but would be extremely annoyed with me if I acknowledged that. 

                “Because they are good boys.  Aren’t you two?”  I again raised my tone up high and praised my pets.  “Big strong demon hunters.  Who’s gonna get special food for dinner tonight?  You two are.”  I vigorously rubbed Max’s head and gently patted Captain just three times.  Then I stood and faced the Imp.  I couldn’t be sure if it was dead or playing possum again.  “Hey Lily, how could you tell that it was still alive?”

             “Duh, pixies can see life energy.  You can never fool a pixie.”  She said it with pride and her chin held high.  “It’s still alive now but hurt pretty bad.”

                I reached up to the shelf next to her and felt a twang of disappointment when she flinched.  I met her by saving her life from a wild cat.  I knew she trusted me as much as she could, but it had hurt her bad enough she couldn’t fly for over a month.  I tried not to take her reaction personally, but you can’t always control how you feel.  It also made me hurt for her, but I just didn’t know how to help her get through the fear when she wouldn’t admit it was there.  I saw her relax as I grabbed the vial of holy water from the shelf and kept my hand far away from her. 

                The creature’s eyes opened as I poured the holy water on it.  I whispered a silencing spell so my neighbors wouldn’t hear the thing scream as it dissolved.  The burnt sulfur smell turned to one of decay as the creature turned to a black goo that was going to stain my carpet.  Do steam cleaners get out demon?  I guess I would have to find out the hard way.     

Fiction Fragment Friday

I do not have strong feelings about this week’s story. I wanted to do something onboard a spaceship again, but didn’t really have a strong grasp of what I wanted to accomplish. I don’t really see this story being one that I return to.

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                Jump drives are by far the most reliable method of travel that mankind has ever invented.  I know this, understand the science behind them, and have personally experienced almost a thousand jumps over the course of my career.  Logic tells me that there is nothing to worry about when we jump.  Of course, my brain doesn’t always listen to logic.  I have never made a jump without having to push down my anxiety in the moments just before.  As captain I can’t let my crew see this weakness though.  I need to be the rock they can rely on. 

                “Jump complete.  Systems show a variance of .62% long.”

                “Excellent work Mr. Henderson.  Your new navigation program is going to make you famous if these results continue.”  I tried to make sure pride showed in my voice.  Jump variance between 1 and 2 percent is considered normal.  Anything under one percent is seen as either a lucky fluke or an extremely skilled navigator.  Our last four jumps have all had a variance under .75% and it was all thanks to the customs code Henderson had written.  He is far too skilled to be on a cargo vessel. 

                “Thanks Captain, but I still think I can get us under .5%.”  It tells you everything you need to know about Jacob Henderson that he had developed the most accurate navigation software ever written and it still wasn’t good enough for him. 

                “Captain, I think we have a problem,” my systems administrator chimed in.  I was not happy to hear the concern in her voice but tried to keep my own anxiety from jumping to conclusions without any information.

                “What kind of problem Ms. Jeffries?” 

                “Well sir, I’m getting flooded by system communications and there are some conflicting reports.  The L1 Hub Station is either in civil war, being invaded, or is having massive system failures.”

                “Well seeing as that is where our cargo is heading I don’t I care for any of those options.”

                She nodded at me.  “I don’t think I do either sir.  It’s going to take a while to sort through all these.”

                “Consider it your number one priority.  We can’t make plans if we don’t know what we’re flying into.  Speaking of which, Mrs. Yamato please feel free to take the scenic route to the station.  A nice stroll instead of a jog.”

                “Yes sir, slow and steady.”

                I hit the communications button on my chair for engineering.  “Chief we are going to take it nice and slow, but I need you ready to pour on the speed.  We’re heading into an unknown situation, and I want to be ready to run for either the outer system or above the ecliptic plane.  Whichever is the closest for a jump at the time.”

                The reply came over the comms a moment later.  “We’ll be ready down here.  Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that though.”

                “Incoming message.  It’s jamming all other communications in the system.” Ms. Jeffries could not keep the concern out of her voice. 

                “I didn’t think that was possible.”

                “It shouldn’t be and to make things worse there is no identifier in the message.  I have no idea who sent it.”

                I debated internally for a few moments whether to have her play it or to head to my office and listen in private.  Controlling the flow of information and how much to share is one of the most important and least documented parts of command.  In this case the entire bridge knew there was an incoming message and my leaving the bridge to listen would send an even stronger message than anything on the broadcast.  With that in mind I made my decision.  “Play the message.”

                The raspy sound that came over the system speakers hurt my ears for a moment before it settled into a voice.  Even though it was in English the natural echo made the words difficult to understand.  They reverberated in an inhuman manner.  “This system and all its resources are now under the control of the Foline Empire.  You have two of your standard days to evacuate or likewise become our property.”  The message then started to repeat in a loop.

                “Ok, shut that thing off.  First contact with another intelligent species and they want one of our systems.” 

                “What are we going to do captain?”  Henderson looked back at me with an expression I couldn’t place.  I suspected it was a mixture of fear and anticipation. 

                “We’re going to leave.  Without any weapons we don’t really have another option.  I want to gather as much intel as we possibly can before jumping though.  I want sensor readings, and I need a way around that jamming so we can get reports from the system stations.  This is top priority for every department.”

                I pulled up my tablet and shot off commands to all my senior staff.  Then I started creating the framework for my report.  I couldn’t be sure what the other ships in the system would do, but I wasn’t going to run until I had something useful to take back with us.  At that point we only had one message and no actual information on our new enemies.      

                I tried to stay out of the way of my people and let them work, but it was difficult not to micromanage them.  I trust my crew, but the need to know right down to the second what our progress was weighed on me.  Some of the crew had family in the system and leaving didn’t sit well with them.  It didn’t sit well with me either, but I had a duty to ensure that our defense forces got the most complete reports of what happened I could provide.  It was the only way to ensure other systems didn’t fall and perhaps this one could eventually be liberated.  The crew could worry about their loved ones and the outrage they felt, but I had to have the bigger picture in mind.  I needed to be concerned with our entire civilization.

                With only an hour to spare before the Foline deadline my crew performed a miracle.  We were able to break through the communication jamming and open communications with one of the planetary orbitals.  They informed us that the hub station was destroyed, but before it went, they had transmitted deep scan readings of three enemy ships.  The orbital had been consolidating reports and performing analysis of the enemy weapon signatures before the jamming went into effect.  I had the intel I was looking for so with a heavy heart I gave my order.  “Mr. Henderson.  Please calculate and initiate the jump home.” 

                “Yes sir.”  I knew it was difficult for him to obey my order.  His husband was on the third planet of the system and jumping meant leaving him to the enemy.  He did his duty though and I pretended not to see the tear run down his face as we jumped out of the system.     

Fiction Fragment Friday

I love seriously complicated time travel stories. The kind of story where you think you have everything figured out only to get to the end and start drawing new lines in your head rethinking everything you thought you knew. I’ve never actually written that kind of time travel story. Mine are usually very lite a bit more straightforward. Until now.

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Mission Log Entry #1 October 10^th, 2024, 12:01pm local time.

                My arrival in St. Louis in 2024 at 9:34am Central Standard Time did not go as expected.  According to mission parameters, I was to arrive at Temporal Observation Outpost 43 for resupply and data syncing.  TOO43 is an unmanned facility with little more than a bed, anchor point for arrival, storage closet, and an AI powered computer system.  It is more of a rest stop in time than anything else.  The AI, who likes to be called Martin, monitors the local internet and news sources cataloging events as they occur to compare with official records.  Despite the increase in data available after the inception of the digital age, it is actually harder to determine the truth of how events occurred.  There is information overload and the further you get from the event, the harder it is to determine the reliability of the data.  These type outposts are extremely important, but I did not arrive at TOO43.     

                The world came into focus with the excruciating headache that accompanies an arrival at a point without a temporal anchor.  Instead of landing solidly on my feet, I came out disoriented in an alley.  I’m pretty sure it was urine I slipped on, causing me to fall against a wall, hurting my shoulder.  It is still throbbing in pain an hour later.  I’ve determined that I arrived in the right city at the right time, but there is no signal coming from TOO43.  I’m writing up this log in a fast-food dining room that is shockingly empty even though it is noon.  Everyone seems to use the drive through.  Hopefully, I can reach the outpost before nighttime and get some answers.

Mission Log Entry #2 October 10^th, 2024, 5:45pm local time.

                I’m trying to stay focused and keep my emotions out of these logs, but I’m panicking.  The outpost doesn’t exist.  It is not just offline; the location is an empty lot.  Without it, I don’t have easy access to the local internet or a communications relay back home.  I’m truly and completely on my own.  Thankfully, I have era appropriate false identification and currency.  I discovered at the fast-food place that my debit card doesn’t work.  I can only assume without Marvin here to keep the account active; it was closed at some point.  Unfortunately, there are few places that will rent me a room for the night without a card on file for incidentals.  After a half hour of panic, I reminded myself that my training covered this exact scenario.  I have options.

                I could return home now, but that would be a poor choice.  I need to know why the outpost is no longer here and I don’t have that information yet.  In addition, I’m noticing more and more things that just don’t seem quite like I remember them for this era.  There are anomalies and I need to document them and determine if there has been a paradox when it occurred.  For that I need the internet.  I still have time to find a library, so that is my next step.    

Mission Log Entry #3 October 10^th, 2024, 9:01pm local time.

                This is bad.  This is exceedingly bad.  I haven’t found the point of variance, but the world is wrong.  The cultural changes, including fast-food restaurants being so empty inside, seem to have come from a global pandemic that lasted multiple years.  That never happened in my timeline.  I can only imagine the implications of a generation who had their life put on hold and every social interaction moved online.  At first, I thought this was the divergence, but it is worse than that. 

                While reading about this pandemic, I noticed that there was no mention of it spreading to the moon colony.  I hoped it would escape unscathed, but soon discovered that it didn’t exist.  That’s right, in this timeline there is no moon colony.  In fact, there is only one space station in orbit.  The entire space program is over twenty years behind schedule and much of it is now being run out of the private sector.  I can’t fathom what could have caused this, but without the moon colony, they haven’t found the crashed alien ship.  Without that, they haven’t reverse engineered any of its technology.  It has given me a theory about why TOO43 is gone. 

Mission Log Entry #4 January 13^th, 2150, 1:03pm local time.

                My worst fear was reality.  I jumped home only to find that my home doesn’t exist.  Whatever has changed in the past, my future is gone.  The Temporal Observation Commission doesn’t exist in this timeline, so they never set up outposts.  I arrived in 2150 to find the world in ruins.  At some point in the last hundred and twenty-five years, a third world war turned nuclear.  My society never formed and Temporal Historians don’t exist.  I am a walking paradox that shouldn’t even exist, but I do.  That means I can still fix things.  Unfortunately, I will only have one chance to do it. 

                My Temporal Insertion Chronometer only has enough power for four jumps.  That isn’t normally a problem because every outpost has the equipment necessary to charge them.  Now there is nowhere in time that equipment exists.  I should have spent more time in 2024 studying the new timeline, but I got too impatient to come home for help.  Now I only have charge enough for one last jump.  I only have one chance and I’m not sure where or when to go.  This time doesn’t even have the resources to do further research.  I and by extension my timeline is screwed.                     

Mission Log Entry #5 December 13^th, 1985, 3:25pm local time.

                I arrived in Titusville, Florida this morning.  I’ve given myself over a month to fix the furthest back variance I could identify.  The space program was drastically impacted by a space shuttle explosion destroying the country’s faith in NASA.  In my timeline, they discovered a fault and addressed it prior to launch.  That doesn’t happen anymore and unless I can fix that Space Shuttle Challenger will explode on live tv.  The only problem is that I don’t know how to stop it.

Mission Log Entry #6 December 20^th, 1985, 8:12pm local time.

                I didn’t screw up.  My barely operating TIC detected a temporal insertion today.  I’m in the right place at the right time to correct the change.  Someone is here actively working against me to sabotage humanity’s progress.  I can’t figure out what they hope to gain, but now I finally have a lead.  For the first time in weeks, I have hope again.  I just need to figure out who they are and how they are going to do it. 

Mission Log Entry #7 January 10^th, 1986, 2:12pm local time.

                I did it.  I tracked down the operative and followed them back to their local base.  The base is an observation outpost, but not like one of ours.  I recognize the technology filling their outpost and the language on the screens even though I can’t read it.  The operative may look human, but the observation post belongs to the alien species that crashed on the moon.  They must have come back in time to stop humanity from finding and reverse engineering their technology.  Stopping him is going to be exceedingly difficult, but I bought a pistol this morning.

                I didn’t just get information from the outpost.  My TIC may not be completely compatible with their technology, but it runs on the same type of power.  I’m fully recharged and have another four jumps if I need them.  I also was able to sync some of their files.  They are in a language I can’t read, but the TIC has built in translation functions.  The alien language is not one programed into it, but eventually it will create a translation. 

Mission Log Entry #8 January 20^th, 1986, 9:12pm local time.

                I’m a murderer and somehow, I’m going to have to live with that.  Options were running thin, so out of desperation I took a more direct approach.  As the saboteur returned to his outpost, this evening I met him on the street and confronted him.  I pulled my pistol on him, hoping I could threaten him into giving me more information.  He reached into his pocket and before I realized what I was doing; I had pulled my trigger multiple times.  His dead eyes stared at me accusingly while his body bled out onto the street.  I’m not sure what this device he pulled from his pocket was, but it wasn’t a weapon.  My goal was to save my timeline, but now I can’t get the image of what I have done out of my head.

Mission Log Entry #9 January 28^th, 1986, 11:40am local time.

                Challenge exploded.  I have failed and I don’t know why.

Mission Log Entry #10 February 10^th, 1986. 4:25pm local time

                I finally came out of my drunken stupor long enough to check the alerts on my TIC.  The translation program completed, and it turns out the files I grabbed were his mission logs.  The man whose face haunts my dreams.  The man I killed.  It turns out was here to ensure that NASA found the flaw.  He was here to save Challenger and by killing him; I created this nightmare timeline.  I created a grandfather paradox that broke the causal loop paradox needed to create my timeline.  My head hurts trying to grasp the concept, and my hangover is not helping that. 

                To further complicate things, the ship on the moon and the man I killed are not extraterrestrial after all.  They came from a thousand years further down the timeline to prevent the third world war and kick start humanities advancement so we would be ready for a real alien invasion that happens in their time. Not only have I murdered a hero, but I have also wiped out my timeline and ensured that humanity will get exterminated in a thousand years.  There is not enough alcohol in the world to make me accept this. 

Mission Log Entry #10 January 19^th, 1986.  12:01pm local time. 

                Well, I just shot myself in the head.  It was the only way I could think to fix what I had done.  I’ve lost track of what kind of paradox I’m now in the middle of.  I can feel myself fading out of existence, though, so I guess I won’t have to worry much longer.  I just wanted to finish up this last log entry and set it to sync up to the local outpost so someone smarter than me can figure out what all of this means.         

Fiction Fragment Friday

This is another story about the magic user Benjamin Eversole. Well that was one of the names I’ve used for him. There were a couple others before I settled. If I’m going to keep developing the character I really should get all the details of the world written up and finalized.

This story came from a thought exercise and a conversation I had during the week. The two combined seamlessly into the story you are about to read.

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                Despite what many people think it is not actually the dark that they are truly afraid of.  The fear comes from what the darkness represents and the emotion it elicits.  Humans don’t like the unknown and darkness takes the world we know and hides it from us.  Our minds create worst case scenarios about what we can’t see.  For some the imagined dangers are far worse than anything the world they know could possibly present them with.

                When you really think about it most fears can be distilled to a lack of control.  We are so obsessed with controlling every aspect of our world that when we can’t it makes us feel helpless.  Darkness, flying, heights, and even claustrophobia are all just a fear of things we can’t control in our environment.  These moments of fear are when the world reminds us just how little control, we actually hold over it. 

                In moments of fear, I try to remind myself that it is just a lack of control that I fear.  There is no point in obsessing about the things you can’t control.  That mental energy is better spent on those things that you can.  Of course, the human mind doesn’t really function on logic.  It is a crazy jumbled mess and that is before we even factor in chemical imbalances or trauma.     

                Knowing all of this didn’t really help me in that moment.  I was in a rickety old Ferris Wheel car rocking back and forth.  When you think about it Ferris Wheels are really the center of a Venn diagram of fears.  Are you afraid of heights, enclosed spaces, large spaces, exposure, being on moving objects, or vertigo?  Well, all those fears intersect right smack dab in a Ferris Wheel.  I don’t know how anyone could enjoy and not be triggered by one of those things. 

                Why was I on a Ferris Wheel if I find them terrifying you might ask.  Well, it was the only way to get a good view of the entire carnival area.  Something dark and hungry was hunting on the carnival grounds and I was having no luck finding it on foot.  From above I could send out tendrils of power and blanket the whole area with a web of detection.  Oh yeah there was a spider in the Ferris Wheel car with me so I guess we can add arachnophobia to that list.  Thankfully I don’t suffer from it.  I was extremely exposed with no where to go though and in my line of work that is terrifying. 

                I saw the shadow move behind the game booths and my detection web surged.  It had a feel to it that was unmistakable.  The creature hunting the grounds was a shadow lynx.  A being made of living shadows and condensed fears.  My anxiety suddenly made a lot more sense.  They have an aura about them that draws out fears in humans.  They feed on them which might not sound bad, but a person’s fear is a part of them.  Eating the fear is like taking a bite out of their very soul.  What makes them more dangerous is because they use your own fear against you their aura cuts right through most mental defenses.

                Knowing what I was dealing with I adjusted my defenses to prevent further aura impact.  Unfortunately, because it had found its way in, I couldn’t shield from the fear it had already induced in me.  I was high above the carnival locked in a cage wracked with fear and had no way of directly confronting the predator.  I had made a mistake and now all I could do was watch helplessly as it narrowed in on its prey.  A lost child.  I was supposed to be the one guarding innocent people from these supernatural beings, and I had failed.  Depression, frustration, and self-loathing fought to overwhelm the fear.  That was when I had a realization. 

                I pulled the power from my web and focused it on the shadow lynx.  It couldn’t do anything to harm the creature, but that wasn’t my intent.  I poured every bit of power I could generate in my diminished state.  Working with magical energies requires extreme focus and debilitating emotions can destroy that focus.  I was extremely weak magically in that moment, but I had enough for what I was trying to do.  My power lit up the lynx magically like a spotlight.  Anything with any degree of magical sensitivity couldn’t help but be drawn to the creature.

                I saw them drop from the sky and swoop through the rows of food and game booths.    Five airborne predators known for being territorial.  Shadow Ravens closed in on the lynx circling it.  They took turns diving and pecking at the creature, but the lynx would not go easily.  With a lunge it plucked one of the birds from the air ripping it into threads of shadow it could absorb.  The larger collection of emotions couldn’t all be digested, but Shadow Ravens do contain fear. 

                The fight was fairly evenly matched, and I couldn’t be sure of the winner.  I did know that child was going to be the loser in the end if I couldn’t get there.  The victor was going to be hurt and hungry, needing to replenish their own energies.  My desperate move pointing the lynx out to the ravens had been a stalling tactic to give me more time.  I had recognized the other feelings being pushed on me as an additional aura.  I figured pitting the two predator types against each other would give me an opportunity to think of something else.

                My gambit had an unexpected benefit.  With the shadow creatures fighting their auras had shrunk.  They needed all their power for the fight and that meant they couldn’t mess with my head anymore.  My focus was returning and with focus came power.  I reached deep within my internal reservoirs and fed courage and positive thoughts into it.  For creatures of shadow the tint of emotions they were incapable of digesting could poison them.

                I fed my power into the park’s lighting fixtures causing them to grow brighter.  The light was imbued with my power and burned away at the shadow creatures.  I felt screams of psychic pain from them as they withered under my attack.  I knew the bulbs couldn’t last much longer and sure enough they started shattering.  With an open path of darkness, the predators fled into the night.  I slumped back into my seat in a combination of relief and exhaustion.  They were still out there somewhere, but the kid was safe.  That would have to be enough.                 

Fiction Fragment Friday

I know I usually start off by telling you the inspiration for my stories, but this week I really have no idea where this one came from. As the story progresses I can see clear places where I was inspired by thoughts or real life events. The beginning though is a mystery even to me.

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                “Good morning, Jamie.  How dark would you like your toast this morning?”

                “Have you ever thought that I might not want toast?  That I might be so sick of toast that the very thought of it makes me want to vomit?”

                The digitized face on the toaster changed from a smile to a frown, and then settled on a circle mouth.  “Oh.  That’s ok.  I could make you a bagel. Perhaps a frozen waffle?”

                Jamie turned away from the toaster without answering.  “Coffee I just need a coffee.”

                “Of course.  Would you like mocha, hazelnut, or expresso?”  The coffee maker looked hopeful knowing that now was it’s time to shine.

                “Just coffee.  Plain black coffee with nothing in it.”

                “8oz or 16?  How strong would you prefer?  What temperature would you like it served at?”

                Jamie screamed in frustration.  “Forget it, just forget it.  Why does everything have to be so complicated?  It’s too early to make decisions.”  She stormed out of the kitchen into the living room and slumped in her recliner.  “Finally some peace and..”

                “Thank you for choosing to sit on me this morning.  Would you like me to engage the massage or heating features?  I can recline by any angle you would like.”

                “DAD!!!” Jamie yelled while jumping out of her chair.  She stomped her feet all the way down into the basement where her father was hard at work in his lab.  He was sitting at a computer with circuit boards spread across the counter.  He turned his chair to face her.

                “Oh, hey pumpkin.  Having a good morning?”

                 “No,  No I am not.”

                “What’s wrong dear?”

                Jamie stomped her feet and crossed her arms over her chest.  “What’s wrong?  What’s wrong?  You updated the AI on all the appliance again and installed one in my chair.  Do you have any idea what it’s like to sit on something and have it start talking to you?”

                “I’d answer that, but you said you didn’t want to hear about my love life.”

                “Not funny.”

                “Come on it was a little funny.  Lighten up a bit.  Everything doesn’t have to be so serious.”

                “I just want a simple morning.  Wake up grab a coffee, eat breakfast and rest in my chair until I have to go to school.  I don’t want to play twenty questions with inanimate objects.”

                “If they talk to you, are they still inanimate?”

                 “Yes,  yes they are. They’re appliances and furniture.  They don’t need to talk to us.”  As the anger started to run dry, she felt tears coming to her eyes.

                Her father stood and wrapper her in his arms.  “Oh, baby what’s really going on here?”

                Through the sobs she managed to answer.  “So many questions.  I just want something simple in life.   When everything is giving me options I can’t think.  I just lock up.  It makes me not even want my coffee anymore.  You ruined my morning coffee.  The one thing in life that made sense.” 

                He patted her back.  “Life won’t always make sense.  You’re still struggling to figure out what you want to go to college for aren’t you?”

                “Yes” It came out through sniffles and in a defeated tone.  “What if I pick the wrong major?”

                “Then you pivot and do something else.  You’re young and yes you will make mistakes and change your mind.  That is all just part of life.”  He pulled back so he could look her in the eyes.  “Do you know what my college degree is in?”

                “No.”

                “Culinary Arts.  I wanted to be a chef.  When I got into a high-pressure kitchen I had a nervous breakdown.  I just can’t do fast paced environments.  I need to think and analyze.  So, I quit and learned programing.  Decisions don’t have to be final.”

                Taking a moment Jamie composed herself again.  She hated crying, but it was happening more often with her feelings of being overwhelmed.  “Could you please just talk to me before you install a new AI next time?  My chair was my safe zone, and now it’s asking me questions too.” 

                “I’m sorry baby.  I’ll remove it and I promise no new AI without telling you first.”

                “Thanks.  That’s all I ask.  I’m going to go take a shower before school.”  She turned and headed back up the stairs.  Her father turned back to his computer feeling like there was something extremely important that he had forgotten. 

                Five minutes later Jamie stepped climbed into the shower looking forward to just hiding from the world for a while.  “Hello Jamie.  How warm would you like the water?  Are you in the mood for a light mist or a heavy pressure this morning?”

                “DAAAAD!!!!!”