12/30, 8 pm 

Free Audio-Zoom NEW OUTER LIMITS Gathering**:** 

Brainstorm, Discuss, CoCreate NEW Scenarios, Dimensions, Worlds, etc...!

 4th Saturdays:

We'll start w/a simple audio-only zoom gathering,  to get a chance to be introduced to each other in this new session of the gathering, --thru beginning to brainstorm, discuss, & cocreate what is described below. And over time we'll evolve to do whole gathering described below:

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ZOOM link POSTED UNDER YOUTUBE VIDEO AT LEAST 1 HOUR BEFORE EACH GATHERING(Skip watching the video til I've updated it & instead read current info below):  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-lLVVKFOfQ&list=PLK1Voc8y_0HoirsGHCNZqhe9edE8glT0F 

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A free monthly gathering to connect w/peers who not only love the New Outer Limits TV series from the 90s:  Gather On Zoom & Create New Scenarios...live them, roleplay...but more like exploratory theme or workshop activities than a LARP:

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🛸 brainstorm new episodes, new dimensions, new worlds. Our fantasy futures. The positives & the challenges:

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. 🔭 Though we do all sorts of activities inspired by this series; the main intention is to cocreate, roleplay scenarios, live in new ways; expand our perceptions, challenge ourselves, use our full potentials. And explore what fun, inventive, outside the box things we could do to bring the most exciting & essential new frontiers into the world now.

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🔮 Though the creature feature episodes were sometimes amusing, they were more similar to each other, generally more simply action, less exploratory about the future:  So we don't tend to focus on them or horror-genre episodes; unless they have food for thought / new ideas that inspire us to explore/createa positive new frontiers.

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🚀 This will evolve to be a 3 part gathering:

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1). We'll start by doing a 20 min AUDIO-ONLY GATHERING ( we may stay longer, but ARRIVE W/IN 1st 20 min, as we may not!!!).

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2). **THEN IN A MONTH or two WE'LL START 1st w/a VIDEO ZOOM face-to-face Outer Limits-themed Icebreaker activities that are at least 50% gently physically active: Imaginative, Humorous, Meaningful/Envelope-pushing ACTIVITIES:  Like Party Games, Improv Games, Surrealist Games, Get-To-Know-Each-Other's-Universe Games, Story Games, etc.  This will then be followed by the short audio meetup above, & then--

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3).  We'll fo the full VIDEO ZOOM face-to-face workshop described above.

Though Dec 30 we'll only be doing the audio gathering;

in following months we'll do all 3; --w/15, 20min or 40 min each(depending on how big a group we are & how long we want to go). And eventually will be a 90 min gathering ( & eventually I'll move time to 7pm ...or earlier).

Best! WRP Diana

If you've either read books from the Vorkosigan Saga (or are a quick reader): I'm hosting the following, free audio group call. You don't need to have read books in the saga if you have fantasyfood culinary recipes or activities to share:

🍨 Ma Costi has become so popular she's trained a committee to handle her catering overflow! Today, we meet at The Intergalactic Culinary Enthusiasts Convention!

🌯 We'll introduce ourselves by either sharing about, readng aloud, or brainstorming a bit of our fav Ma Costi cooking/story; --Then exotic gourmet recipes, foods, food culture(including dining/party activities, rituals/traditions, & other culinary history) from other planets***(as well as Earth/Terra)***... Then weave the best of them to cocreate delights for Tara's upcoming surprise party at The Orb! As well as cocreating social, interactive dining / party activities! ( for ideas you can check out r/FantasyFood )

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🍓 Thurs Dec. 21, 8 pm Pacific Time will be a 20 min ( or up to 40 min, if we stay longer) audio gathering: But make sure to arrive by the 1st 20 min, as it's not planned that we'll be there longer.

🍜 After that we'll meet 3rd Saturdays, and

• the audio gathering will include being followed by
• a 2nd, 20min gathering on Zoom, w/Videos on; to have fun trying out the activities we've created, + do 1 'Mirror Dance' from the Vorkosigan Saga (each time to a different bit of music brought by anyone attending who wants to).
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🫔 (The party is by another character from the Vorkosigan Saga who shall remain a mystery at the moment [as my internet is changing this week, so don't have reliable access to post]). And is part of a larger story that makes this party, & the reasons for having it much more interesting. I'll have the whole fanfic posted by our 2nd mtg in January. Plus I'll post the other topic/gathering that I mentioned by then as well.)

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🍪 Since I don't have reliable internet access this week, rather than meeting on zoom, just this time, we'll be using a group conference call #: DIAL: (425) 436-6324. Then use this pin 8843018 & press#. Free if using a cellphone that has free national dialing, like most cells; otherwise it's a toll call ( International dial in #s are at the bottom of this post; they'll all be a toll call unkess you have an international dialing plan that makes them free for you. I noticed a site in the past called poptox had a free international dialing for propke who don't get an account w/them, but just use a diaload on their front page, w/out any 'catches', but I don't know if that still exists...or if there are catches now).

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☕️ For people genuinely friendly & supportive to everyone; coming to find community, enjoy the Vorkosigan Saga story & characters, & the celebrate the delicious wonders & possibilities for FUN in the universe.

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🫖 I may post a few more notes, so check back. I may not be able to respond to any comments or msgs til after the gathering. But I will as soon as my internet is back to normal.

🎂 Best wishes & look forward to sharing it w/you!

WRP Diana

international dialing #s are at the bottom of this post:https://www.reddit.com/r/pern/comments/1808tdb/cove_hold_meetup_8pm_tuesdays_audioonly_zoom/

In case any of you would like to connect, & be in this kind of space, please join friends & I:

Grab a mug of Klah, & join us on the beach at Cove Hold!

We'll introduce ourselves by either sharing about, readng aloud, or brainstorming fanfic, roleplay or game stories that continue the story of PERN

*** w/Anne McCaffrey's positive & inspiring energy & outlook;***

-- or sharing thoughts about what's shared.

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How would you create a new weyr, guild, or hold?...

What is on the unexplored Southern & Western Continents?...

What Terran info, habits or pieces of culture could change, evolve, or be mis-remembered in thousands of years, & become interesting traditions deeply rooted in the culture of PERN?...

There are infinite interesting possibilities to brainstorm & add to the alive & ever evolving world of PERN.

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🐉🌹 If we ever have a mtg where no one has something to share, --

those who like to read aloud will take turns either:

a). reading very short stories together from fanfic sites;

-OR-

b). readng the many different 'continuation' stories roleplay groups create & poste on their public invites pages.

🐉🌹 A great way to meet & get to know peers in the PERN community;

+ get a sense of **who you'd have a good rappore w/, to form, or join, a group to roleplay or LARP w/on audio, zoom or text.

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🌿🐉🌿🐉🌿🐉🌿🐉🌿🐉

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🌹🐉Usually wr'll use audio-zoom, but I need to use a regular conference call# for Dec. 14: Free if using a cellphone that has free national dialing, like most cells; otherwise it's a toll.

DIAL: (425) 436-6324. Then press 8843018 & press# (see international #s here:https://www.reddit.com/r/pern/comments/1808tdb/cove_hold_meetup_8pm_tuesdays_audioonly_zoom/ )

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🐉🌹 If a large turnout, I'm fine staying longer than 20 min; --but always arrive w/in the 1st 20 min, as we may not be there longer. Time or day may change after we've met awhile:Always checkfor updates in my comments: I'll post the zoom link & toll-free phone# at least 1 hr before each gathering:

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🐉🌹 Some Simple Instructions & Guidelines To Attend:

🟣 for people who are genuinely friendly & supportive to everyone:Coming to find community & friendships, & celebrate each other & the universe.

This gathering is focused on the more positive outlook represented by the Harper Hall series & later books; so though there'll be stories w/challenges that are overcome w/inspiration; we won't be focusing on wars, plagued, horror, or dystopian phenomenons; -- unless in short prologues meant to mention something people are consciously leaving behind ( like the original backstory of the Terran settkers to PERN).

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🟣 I'll host other gatherings open to people new to PERN, *who haven't read the books,*but this gathering is for fan's familiar w/the PERN story, world; & crave positive continuations**:** So before attending this gathering you need to be an enthusiastic lover of Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders Of PERN Series, & have fully read, & really enjoyed, 1 of those books & the world they take place on***;***

Here's a LIST of books I recommend, to catch the energy of this gathering; if you're new to PERN:

Most are available free from your local library to read or listen online. All can be listened to by folks reading them aloud on youtube:

Dragonsong ( uplifting, inspiring, probably my 2nd favorite book: Though there's an instance of abuse in the beginning; normally I wouldn't recommend books that include any abuse; but I believe the author's overall gift of the planet & it's culture, still makes this book worth reading, & best place to start the series);

Dragonsinger

The White Dragon

Dragon Drums

All The Weyrs Of PERN

Dragonsdawn

The Dolphins Of PERN

The Skies Of PERN

🌹🌿🐉🌿🐉🌿🐉🌿🐉🌿🐉🌹

Look forward to sharing it with you!

WRP Diana https://www.youtube.com/@WRP_Diana

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Humans are Weird – Connection

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-connection

Tss’ckckck paused at the door to the massive central socialization area, added to the base specifically with humans in mind and felt his chelicerae twitch in annoyance. Two human voices came from the central couches in smooth rumbling tones. There was a burst of laughter, and the sounds subsided into eager, if angry conversational tones again. Tss’ckckck rubbed his head with his best gripping paw and decided against confronting the humans directly. Instead he turned and headed up the old, comfortably Trisk sized corridor to the central office. Reaching the main door he pushed aside the privacymembrane and stalked in towards the smooth old officer at the desk.

“Commander,” he said in respectful tones.

Commander Chk’k was one of the most senior serving Rangers. His head was nearly smooth from loss of sensory hairs, but his eyes still sparkled with light and his chelicerae still twitched with attention. He angled his body to greet Tss’ckckck and waved a talonless paw.

“Welcome Horticulturalist!” He called out. “What brings you to my office at this time of the solar cycle? Are the night midges giving the crops troubles again.”

“No more than usual,” Tss’ckckck said with a dismissive wave after the polite six seconds. “No, I had a question about the humans.”

“And what is your question?” Commander Chk’k asked.

“Are they not diurnal?” Tss’ckckck asked, letting his legs stiffen in a subtle show of annoyance.

Commander Chk’k’s chelicerae trembled with ill concealed amusement as he shifted his datapad in front of him.

“They are,” he agreed, “for the most part.”

Tss’ckckck got the distinct feeling that he was sorting dust by sized here but went on determinedly.

“Is it not dangerous for them to remain awake and functional this late into the night cycle?” he asked.

Commander Chk’k flexed his paws in a gesture of gentle confirmation and keep his primary eyes focused on Tss’ckckck. The younger ranger girded his joints for the final question.

“Then why have you not ordered Ranger Smith and Ranger Dodge to their hammocks for the night?” Tss’ckckck asked.

Commander Chk’k gave an amused chuckle and gently shifted his datapad on the desk in front of him. Clearly he was gathering his thoughts for a detailed reply and Tss’ckckck felt a gratified glow in his abdomen. He stretched out his stepping paws in a show of comfort and patience.

“You are aware that these two humans in particular have had trouble bonding?” the old commander asked.

Tss’ckckck flexed his own paws in acknowledgment.

“They have not been hostile to each other,” Commander Chk’k said in slow musing tones, “but they have not exchanged a single word outside of purely formal communication since Ranger Dodge arrived.”

There was a long and meaningful pause.

“Until tonight at the end of the recreation shift,” Commander Chk’k finished.

The commander pulled in his paws and titled his body to the side expectantly. Tss’ckckck flexed one paw in conditional understanding.

“They were,” he hesitated as he formed the words, “they seemed agitated, not particularly amicable in their conversation.”

Commander Chk’k heaved a sigh and flexed his paws again as he pulled up some notes.

“The point of common interest they have found,” he said in amused tones. “Is an identical web of rage they share for how a certain fictional story, presented in animation, I believe they call the style? Ended a human generation and a half ago.”

Far, far longer than the socially require six seconds of thought dragged out between them as Tss’ckckck worked that into his gut. Finally he drew a deep breath into his lung.

“They are, bonding, is the human term correct?” he asked.

Commander Chk’k flexed his paws again.

“They are enjoying…” he paused, “enjoying their mutual rage?”

Commander Chk’k positively beamed at him.

“You are learning much about human reactions!” he said.

“They should probably not be disturbed,” Tss’ckckck concluded.

“No,” Commander Chk’k said as a duet of shouting began to vibrate the base.

“I think,” Tss’ckckck said slowly. “The field mites require a few more hours of observation.”

Commander Chk’k simply turned his attention back to his reports.

Amazon (Kindle, Paperback, Audiobook)

Barnes & Nobel (Nook, Paperback, Audiobook)

Google Play Books (ebook and Audiobook)

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FlyinG SparkS Volume 1 – Chapter 2 – The Memorial Garden

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Flying Sparks

Pre Order Now

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Chapter 2

“Hazardous? I’ll show that manipulative, misanthropic, anti-establishment cretin just what hazardous means if he thinks I’m going to fold on this!”

The sound of vigorous guitar riffs made a fitting accompaniment to the angry tirade despite originating on opposite sides of the communal area. Ama was glaring at a laptop that sat on a stained oak desk shoved against the large table near the kitchen. She tapped a fingernail on the wood as she read through the alert.

“And what violation of basic human dignity has her royal prudishness’s undies in a bunch?” Em demanded with an affected sneer without looking up from his guitar scales.

“Oh you’ll agree with this one tree-hugger,” Drake muttered from where he sat oiling his work boots.

“Yeah,” Donny piped up, “Finney is trying to kill a perfectly healthy fir.”

“What!” Em demanded, carefully placing his battered old acoustic guitar down in its case and darting over to look at the computer screen. “You mean apark tree?”

Despite her simmering frustration Ama allowed a small smile to flicker across her face as she continued to type.

“Get out of your pajamas and I’ll tell you,” Drake ordered pointing towards the bathroom door with a stained rag. “School starts in forty-five minutes and you still have breakfast and chores. That goes for you too Pip-squirt.”

“I hope you washed your hands before you touched our food,” Em said with a frown.

“Boot grease makes a great source of fatty acids.” Drake retorted. “Now go!”

The two smaller boys muttered in annoyance but stumbled off to follow orders.

“So what is up?” the youth asked as he bent his head back over the smooth leather of his boots.

“Mrs. Finney wants that tree down that’s blocking her perfect view of Crescent Lake.” Ama replied in a dry tone.

“One that’s clearly on park property?” Drake asked.

“Indeedy-do.” Ama replied giving the paper in front of her a glare.

“So how’s she justifying it?” Drake asked.

“As a safety hazard to her house.” Ama replied.

“And?”

The biologist groaned and rubbed her face.

“As far as I can tell the trunk is perfectly healthy. There is an old trash can lid grown into the trunk and a little discolored sap is leaking out there.”

“Frass?”

“Watch your language!” Donny interjected as he darted up to the table.

“Frass is not a bad word,” Drake stated. “Have you let the chickens out?”

“Yes, what does frass mean?” Donny asked as he started piling stir-fry onto his plate.

“Look it up.” Drake ordered him. “Emerald! Breakfast ends in ten minutes! Get your tukus down here!”

“It’s bad health to rush meals,” Em snapped out as he came down a narrow stairway with deliberate slowness.

“It’s even worse for your health to skip meals altogether,” Drake growled threateningly.

“Shut it and give me some eggs.” Em snapped back.

“Emerald Waters Undersun,” Drake hissed out through gritted teeth. “You are going to get your own eggs.”

The boy threw himself into a chair and glared at Drake with challenge in every line of his body.

“Emerald,” Ama said in a calm tone. “I think you should apologize to your cousin now.”

“Sorry I disturbed you Ama,” he offered without breaking eye contact with Drake.

“Not me, him,” Ama said.

“Sorry you had to hear that Donny.” Em said.

Ama heaved a sigh and closed her computer.

“Emerald,” Ama said.

“Do you want to eat or go hungry?” Drake demanded.

Ama glanced at him with a familiar uneasy look in her eyes and Drake fought down a wince.

“Now, Em.” she said in a patient tone.

“I’ll go hungry,” Em snapped, jumping up and stalking over to the couch.

Donny kept his eyes fixed on his plate. Ama heaved a sigh before turning back to her computer. Em wriggled on the couch for several minutes before skulking back to the table. Drake moved to intercept him but Ama stopped him with a look and he let Em serve himself. Drake cast irritated glances at the wall clock as the time crept more and more into school time.

Ama closed her computer and stood, then sighed, sat and opened it again.

“I need to pick out their report topics,” Ama muttered.

“I could do it,” Drake offered.

“You do quite enough,” Ama replied briskly, as she scanned the news. “Here you go. For Donny, malfunctions at the Lewis- McChord Air Force Base air show.” A frown creased her face. “Wow, this is pretty serious. It looks like the F-16 demonstration team nearly got killed.”

Drake whistled and leaned over her shoulder.

“Multiple system failures,” he read out loud. “I am pretty sure that isn’t supposed to happen.”

“Nope,” Ama agreed. “Here is a topic on big game management for Em.”

“Reports due by next week?” Drake asked as the old printer on the desk began to squeal and grumble as it powered up.

“Same as usual,” Ama confirmed.

Drake put the printouts on top of the homework pile and moved to wash up the breakfast dishes.

“I need to get to work early today so you two be good for Drake,” she called out placing a quick kiss on top of the smaller boys’ heads and giving Drake’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.

“Good luck with Mrs. Finney, and stay safe.” Drake called out as she went into her room.

The table was cleaned off and wiped down and the clink of forks gave way to the steady scratch of pencils on paper. They broke for a recess after religion and then lunch after history and math, and by the time the Grandfather clock in the corner struck two the younger boys twitching with energy. Drake made certain the internet was disconnected at the router, and chased Donny and Em out into the garden.

“And don’t come in until dark,” he ordered tossing two snack bags out after them.

Donny as usual snatched his food and disappeared into the small orachard. Low grumbles about troglodytes and the Amish wandered out into the high corn following Em and Drake shook his head in exasperation wondering, not for the first time how the dark haired princeling came from the same gene pool as his little brother. The kitchen being mostly ordered Drake was turning to put the last random dirty sock in the hamper when a gnarled hand clutching a cane head appeared in the corner of his eye, causing his heart to make a valiant attempt to bolt out of his throat.

“Abuelita!” he gasped forcing his hands down from the guard position. “Where did you come from?”

Smoldering black eyes ran searchingly over the tall youth. An impossibly long mane of streaked silver and black hair was barely contained in a thick braid. A sharply pointed nose perched over a small wrinkled mouth. A vibrant red horse-hair serape hung over her shoulders concealing everything except her brown and gnarled hands which currently clutched the old tree branch she used as a cane. Drake had been more than a little comforted by the fact that both Em and Donny had admitted to having the thought ‘witch’ every time time they saw her as well.

“From the hand of God by the bodies of my sainted mother and father,” she replied after a long, uncomfortable silence.

She always spoke in a low husky voice that suggested years of smoking, though Drake had never smelled even stale smoke on her.

“Right,” Drake blinked and grinned at the response; the one she always gave. “So you are here for their Spanish lesson? I have their grammar books ready and-”

The narrow end of the tree branch rapped against the concrete of the floor causing Drake to jump. Abuelita glared at him, locking his gaze and holding him in place with it for a moment.

“I am here for their lessons,” she finally stated, “and you are there for my payment.”

Drake thought longingly of the repair and maintenance manuals in the cab of the truck and the new tool he was itching to try, but he forced a grin on his face.

“Yes ma’am,” he said. “What can I get you today?”

Abuelita pulled out a bag of woven grass from under her serape causing the indistinct patterns on the cloth to shift and change.

“Take this,” she ordered him, “and collect me the cobalt blue berries that grow on a single stalk close to the ground. They must come from the mountain to the south east of here by the crystal brook.”

Drake nodded, and took the little bag, he didn’t quite manage to infused his gestures with enthusiasm he supposed. The old woman, probably wouldn’t have noted it anyway. She turned and moved towards the garden door without waiting for any other reply. However she called out over her shoulder as he turned to find his own way out of the rambling structure.

“Don’t dawdle little one. A storm brews in the distance.”

He tried not to roll his eyes at that, the weather forecast was clear and eighties for the next week according to the morning fire report Ama had printed. The youth only nodded and slipped around the corner. He circled the barn and pulled a set of loose tan pants and tunic out of the cubby. The soft worn leather almost perfectly matched the forest floor for color as did the moccasins he pulled on after them. His morning running clothes were modern stuff that wicked the sweat away from him and let him speed through the forest. These were his free day clothes. The ones that let him disappear into the forest and wander. Abuelita, for all of her demands, would tend Em and Donny until he returned no matter how late that was, and with the Park’s yearly budget talks still under way it was highly unlikely Ama would be home until long after the sun had set. Despite still hearing the call of the half restored truck he felt something lossening in him already. The soft cotton and smooth leather rested easily against his skin and Drake slipped into the forest.

Freedom; for the moment at least, blissful freedom. Pushing aside the guilt that accompanied the thought as well as any lingering worries about his charges the youth let his legs carry him through the trees. He shunned the man made paths, following the faint animal trails. This close to the barn they were as clear to him as if they were named city streets. Being animal trails, they invariably led him to water. Today he stopped at a trickling stream, took off his moccasins, and rolled up his pants legs. The youth turned and followed the thin flow of icy water upstream, letting it steal the heat from his body through his feet.

Some distance upstream, the stream widened and pooled under a boulder. There Drake paused and pulled an old black compass out of his pocket. Behind him he knew every trail and tree. Ahead was a broad swath of National Wilderness he would have to cross, or possibly Bureau of Land Management or even state managed forests where he more rarely wandered. It was hard to tell where the boundaries were from the ground. The clearing he wanted for the berries was solidly in BLM land and he still had quite a ways to go to get there. The stand of timber that stood between him and his goal was dense with young tree and branches that frequently formed impenetrable hedges he had to track around and he checked his compass regularly as he climbed in elevation. Even so the youth found he had wandered too far off his route and had to correct when he spotted the boundary fence. However he was in no hurry and he reached the clearing long before the sun told him it was time to turn around.

Sometime in the past some unknown force had carved a shallow trench across the side of one of the small mountains that that dotted the wilderness. It had puzzled Drake at first. The scour was at the wrong angle to be an old rock slide, and terminated in a near perfectly circular clearing at the lower end. Centuries old Douglas Firs abruptly gave way to a second ring only a few decades old. Those were in turn beginning to produce cones and a smattering of knee high saplings. The rest of the space was completely given over to wildflowers. No matter what season Drake visited it he found a riot of life.

There had been an early spring and many herbs that normally would have waited a month or more were already in full bloom in the mountain meadow. A white wave of foamflower washed in from the deep forest surrounding the clearing, sending up knee high stalks covered in the delicate white blooms. Late trillium hid close to the roots of the great firs, many having shed their white corollas and begun to put forth their bulbous seed heads. Fuzzy white baneberry blossoms nodded gently in the breeze. A riot of yellow and purple spread across the ground as vetch and buttercups and a host of clovers competed for space in the open sun. Great stalks of lupine as high as his head thrust up their purple and blue proudly from thick clusters of palm shaped leaves. Pink shooting stars and violet harebells crouched under the protection of the larger plants. Indian paintbrush lit the scene with flames of red and orange. Where a spring seeped into the meadow elephant’s head flared neon pink and corydalis bushes put forth blushing blooms. Pale green wild orchids stood along the wet spot and the swarms of bees danced from them to the glacier lilies.

Sometimes, as he bent over a tiny blossom and traced the intricate network of veins in the petals, drank in the scent, and felt the smooth surface of the leaves an otherworldly feeling would come over him. It was as if there was another world just out of range of his senses. If he could only really look, the thin illusion that was blocking him would slip away and reveal the real world underneath it.

“Look Awiegwa,” his father would whisper, pointing at a deer mouse perched on a fallen log. “What does it see?”

Awiegwa would screw up his face and squint. Trying to find the answer to the question.

Awiegwa had often wondered how so many flowers had come to be in the relatively small area. He had identified dozens of species and there were more he had yet to determine. The clearing was always the first place to bloom and the last to go dormant. Many of the flowers seemed to utterly defy their usual blooming patterns. However, as time passed he had simply come to accept it. It was one of the small good things that brought back the memories of his father. If it didn’t quite follow the rules Ama had taught him, well an impossible clearing in the mountains wasn’t a place for rules.

The particular bloom that Abuelita had requested had taken full advantage of the early sun and had already put forth a few cobalt blue berries; easily spotted at the edge of the clearing in the delicate sea of white flowers.

However before he left the shade of the forest for the meadow the youth paused and closed his eyes. Bole wasn’t always here, but he was often enough that Awiegwa always checked for him. Carefully he reconstructed the clearing in his mind; marking every tree and boulder on the edge. Three years he had been coming here and each time it was easier to recreate the clearing. Breathing evenly he opened his eyes, letting the mental image merge with the actual. There was a brief moment of confusion as details like the play of light through branches and the trembling of small clusters of flowers fixed themselves but there was only one truly jarring note. Awiegwa didn’t let his eyes focus on the disparity; he never did anymore, but a warm smile spread across his features as he slipped silently into the meadow.

He was here. As the youth moved in a low crouch, gathering the first fruits of the Queen’s Cup, he let his peripheral vision linger on a particular snag. There was nothing obviously interesting about it, other than the fact that it had not been there the last time Awiegwa was here. He had named the wanderer Bole, because it most often appeared as a thick tree trunk; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Occasionally it would be a boulder or simply a mound in the dirt. Often it wasn’t in the clearing at all. If the youth moved forward and tried to closely examine it he could never find anything to suggest it was something other than a tree or rock.

He had thought about taking a sample occasionally, had taken his knife out to do just that more than once, but something always held him back. Bole was a part of this place. Dissecting him would be too much like attempting to dissect his sense of his father’s presence here. The youth had never told anyone about this place, not even Ama with who could get most things out of him easily enough. Down at the house, in town, when he was Drake; solid, reliable, first up in the morning, two grades ahead in school with a penchant for science Drake, a productive member of modern society with a promising future and his mother smiling at him. Here he could be Awiegwa. Here he could believe in the ancient medicines his father had dug out of dusty old tomes and brought to life from the forest litter. Every time Awiegwa left the clearing and headed back towards home reality would reassert itself. Bole would resolve back into a figment of his imagination, created from pride in a somewhat better than average memory and what the social workers had called an “intriguing imagination”. When he reached the house and become solidly Drake again flickers of embarrassment would begin eating at him for letting his senses trick him like that, but as long as the blooms nodded around him in this garden Bole could exist even on a Thursday.

The little woven grass bag filled up with the berries fairly quickly and Awiegwa soon stretched out of his crouch and let his gaze wander contentedly over the clearing. As it always did, the warm space was working its special magic. Worries about Em getting out of his schoolwork, of not paying enough attention to the quiet Donny, of letting Ama see his petty resentments: it had all melted away from his muscles, thoughts of college costs and abandoning his duties dissolved into an acute sense of the now. The leaves rustled softly in a barely-there breeze, the heavy scent of some unidentified blossom filled his lungs, a dozen shades of green framed the rainbow of flowers, and over and above it all the creaking of the firs as the wind played over them. It was at times like these that he felth he could almost see into heaven; that something wonderful that existed just beyond his senses, and all he had to do was reach out and claim it.

The youth took a deep breath and let himself fall backwards onto a handy rise in the forest floor. His path had taken him to the foot of the snag and he shifted slightly to align himself with the gnarled roots. One hand gripped a time smoothed root.

“Ama trusted me enough to go out of state,” he murmured. “That’s the first time she’s done that. Usually she has Abulita stay with us to fend off the Harsh, but she said it’s long past legal now.”

It was his imagination of course that made him think the root vibrated in his hand in response. Many a long hour he had spent in this clearing with the wanderer. He had poured out his frustrations and anguishes over life’s injustices, had shared his secrets as he grew, and had shouted his triumphs. Sometimes he felt closer to Bole than to any of his human friends. However, something that sounded like his mother’s voice warned him that there was something odd about this and that awareness was the main reason he had kept this place secret from Ama. Their mother hadn’t exactly liked stuff like that. She had never objected to his father’s digging up the old stories of her people. Making cross generational connections between elders, who more often than not lived isolated lives, and the next generation, was an admirable goal in of itself in her eyes; objectively a social good. Storytelling was only the natural course for these relationships to take, but subtle looks had warned even a very young Drake that it was best to cautious what he shared with his mother. At least of those things that couldn’t be placed on a microscope slide. So this was Awigewa’s place, and while his father’s spirit wanders the flowers with he had never felt his mother here.

He let his focus drift up, and up. Dark blue Lupine nodded over his head framing the faint crisscross of jet contrails that threw a light haze over an otherwise cloudless sky. His clothed grew deliciously hot from the spring sun. The ground too had eagerly accepted the energy and now it conducted the heat into the muscles of his back. Bole’s wood beneath him was warmer even than the surrounding ground and an idle thought traced across Awiegwa’s awareness; something about it being odd for the light colored wood and relatively dry wood to retain more heat than the darker soil surrounding it. His mind was filled with the impression of a goal. He had been meaning to do, something. Something fun, yes, exploring, he’d meant to see if whatever had dug that den by the second boulder was cubing this year. He would just get up and do that in a minute. His back was so warm and comfortable.

​

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“Flying Sparks”

Another foray into the lives of Drake McCarty, Ama Love, and the rest of their siblings as they discover that something alien is out in the forest around their home.

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/flying-sparks-a-novel-of-dragon-bear-and-boy/coming_soon

#FlyingSparks #ScienceFiction #Scifi #Story #novel #book #DrakeMcCarty #AmaLove #Donny #Em #Bard #Bole #Aliens #Spaceships #Crystals #fireflies #NPS #NationalPark #Doctor #Sever #family #storm #writing #reading #drama #literature #author #BettyAdams #DyingEmbers #Dragons #ThingsThatGoBoomp #Indiegogo #CrowdFunding

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Humans are Weird – Biscuits Recipes

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-biscuit-recipes

Embracesgladly was carefully maintaining her grip on Human Friend Maria as they moved down the corridor of the dry cave system. The lights pained on the ceiling to provide a near surface level of luminosity were just turning orange as somewhere, und upon und of solid rock above them the barren surface of the planet turned away from its harsh, near star. Again the human’s hormone profile changed, grew past the point on the gradient the Undulate had learned to recognize. Mindfully Embracesgladly loosed a gripping appendage to ‘pat’ Human Friend Maria’s main gripping appendage. Human Friend Maria returned the gesture by applying gentle pressure with the full area of her gripping surface to where it cradled Embracesgladly’s mass.

Human Friend Maria’s massive central atmosphere pumps took on a more mechanical rhythm as she shifted from passive to active control of her oxygen exchange and by the time they had reached Human Friend Maria’s habsuite, carved into the glittering granite of the world, the human’s pheromone gradient had begun to shift back into a less abnormal range. The massive mammal paused in front of her door and drew in a deep breath.

“See you tomorrow eh Hugs?” Human Friend Maria said, her voice still sounding a bit weak as it rumbled out of her chest and though the air.

“Unless you would like a sleeping companion,” Embracesgladly offered.

Human Friend Maria’s fibers stiffened and her stripes flushed with various emotions. Embracesgladly was pained to note that there wasn’t a little offense in the mix and when Human Friend Maria spoke her voice was carefully controlled into recognizably cheerful tones.

“No! I’m good. You shuffle on back to your habsuite.”

“Very well!” Embracesgladly tried to put as much cheer in her own voice. “If you need anything in the night remember your door is right beside the waterlock!”

She made a broad gesture down at the shimmering blue hatch and scrambled down Human Friend Maria’s side when the human’s usually powerful arms went limp and released her. The human maintained her stiff, upright posture until her door had opened and the massive mammal disappeared though it. However Embracesgladly felt the thump of the human slumping against the wall before dragging her massive bipedal frame towards the human sized hydration pool.

That was one perk of this world, Embracesgladly mused. There was always plentiful water of the temperature the humans thrived in. She slipped down into the wet corridor and swam slowly towards the medical pod. She pulled herself up into the rapidly darkening medical bay and spread her appendages to get her bearings.

Human Friend John lay on one of the human slabs, emitting a rhythmic sound. The absolutely massive – even for a human – mammal had been complaining of sleep issues and was no doubt here to make sure he wasn’t suffocating in the night as (supposedly) many humans did. However he was soundly asleep by the dim glow of his stripes and the bases chief medic was quietly sorting expired medical patches by an Undulate sized soaking tank the humans kept about two unds above the floor to decontaminate their hands.

“Swim over!” Medic Lurchesover waved to her.

Embracesgladly came to him and started helping with the sorting.

“How goes your personal assignment?” he asked with his dorsal appendages even as he ventral appendages continued to sort.

“It is working,” Embracesgladly responded slowly. “I do feel that I am doing her good.”

“Despite her best efforts?” Medic Lurchesover prodded gently.

“She is participating as best she can,” Embracesgladly replied quickly. “But she does resent needing help.”

“Can you sound that that is actually a common human reaction?” Medic Lurchesover demanded with a particularly wide gesture of his dorsal appendages.

“It does not seem to flow with reality,” Embracesgladly admitted as she felt the surface of a questionable patch. “I just am trying to swim towards my best efforts.”

For several companionable moments they sorted the patches while Medic Lurchesover mulled over her half request-half observation. Finally he set down his patches.

“Have you attention-attention-attention indefinitely?” he asked, emitting a rippling overtone along with the gestures.

Embracesgladly set down her own patches and absorbed his meaning in stillness for several moments.

“I am sorry,” she finally said. “I simply cannot sound how repeated attention touches is anything but a petty annoyance? Are you suggesting I overwhelm her biochemistry induces paranoia with genuine irritation adrenaline?”

Medic Lurchesover rippled with amused understanding.

“It is very confusing to us, I sound,” he gestured in soothing swoops. “You are wise to not simply try it on an emotionally compromised patient.”

“She is my friend, not my patient,” Embracesgladly corrected him. “I have no medical training.”

“Well!” Medic Lurchesover stated as he resumed his sorting. “Why don’t you go try it out on Human Friend John and see how he responds? That should clear the waters!”

Embracesgently waved a speculative appendage cluster in the direction of the massive human who had shifted from a rhythmic to a stuttering and gurgling sound profile.

“I am not a medic,” she gestured slowly, “but are there not issues of consent?”

“Oh, John waived all those consent bits to help with the training,” Medic Lurchesover replied as he dropped a torn patch into the waste bin.

“Isn’t he in the middle of a medical test?” she pressed.

“That he failed hours ago,” Medic Lurchesover said. “You’ll be doing him a favor if you wake him. Remember to do the sound now.”

Embracesgently wasn’t quite firm in the strokes of the thing, but waiving his medical consent to save time and help out did seem like something Human Friend John would do, even if it was, rather especially if it was of questionable legality. So she shuffled across to his slab and with some effort climbed up beside him.

“You need to be on a flat surface,” Medic Lurchesover gestured. “Chest, back, or lap.”

She obediently climbed up on Human Friend John’s wide ribcage, noting again the dark irregularities of scars that intersected his stripes at odd angles.

“Like this?” she asked as she began gently tapping out the words for attention on the central bony structure that supported his internal frame.

“Slower, and don’t forget the sound,” Medic Lurchesover instructed.

Embracesgently slowed her gestured and tried to mimic the sound Medic Lurchesover had been making. It was rather difficult, especially out of water, though she found that if she pulsed the waves from her own surface down into the cavity of Human Friend John’s chest she got better results. As she expected Human Friend John woke at the attention. The sounds he was making cut off with a gurgle and his lights brightened as his eyelids flickered open. He spent several long moments blinking as his bifocal eyes brought the Undulate on his chest into resolution.

Embracesgently continued the supposed soothing method, and despite Medic Lurchesover’s assurance was surprised to see the humans colors rippled as his tension dropped. His face finally stretched into a grin and one massive gripping appendage came up and patted Embracesgently in a soothing human greeting.

“Daw!” the human rumbled out. “Someone’s makin biscuits!”

His face split open in a cavernous yawn and he slumped back, now with contented light radiating out from his stripes. Embracesgently continued her actions until the dimming of his lights showed he was deeply asleep and then eased off the human and his slab. Medic Lurchesover looked rather smug from the set of his appendages but she could afford to be generous. If Human Friend Maria responded to the odd comfort gesture even an appendage as well as Human Friend John did they should begin the very next morning. Still one question was tickling her lagging appendages.

“What are biscuits?” she asked Medic Lurchesover, “and how does this gesture resemble making them?”

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Humans are Weird – Banana Trees

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-banana-trees

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“No it does not need to be a banana tree!” Ranger Ferris said rolling his eyes.

The larger human was lounging against the wall of the primary base green house watching the smaller human and Fourth Sister examining a set of young fruit tress marked with pale green tags.

“Which one of us is actually practicing Muay Thai?” the smaller human demanded. “Keep your uninformed opinions to your self!”

Fourth Sister tilted her head between the two male humans. Both seemed fairly relaxed and were twisting their faces into the contortion that indicated pleasure. Their voices were low and lacked the tones that indicated anger. While the content of their speech suggested they were having a confrontation every other social signal that she could read suggested that they were reciting some memorized trivia that neither particularly cared about. It was a strange situation but not one that she was required to investigate. She shook out her frill and turned her attention back to the trees.

“What about this one?” Ranger Trevor asked, stroking a finger along one of the long leaves.

“That one has a potential rating of four point seven,” Fourth Sister replied, checking her data pad. “You should leave it.”

“This one has some damaged leaves,” Ranger Trevor said.

“Indeed,” Fourth Sister lightly ground her mandibles together as she analyzed the totality of the data for the plant. “It came from a particularly productive seed-crop. We have plentiful clones of the parent genome. It has no particularly useful traits.”

“So can I have it?” Ranger Trevor asked, his face flushing with color in an expression of eagerness.

“We can exchange this for the agreed upon labor,” Fourth Sister confirmed. “Will you want to take this out to your training area or leave it here with the rest.”

“Well,” the human pondered. “It will need a good root system in the ground when I use it so the sooner I get it planted in the soil outside the better. This is a fast growing breed right?”

“It should reach the diameter you mentioned was desirable within two local years in the soil you provided in the sample,” Fourth Sister stated. “Though I should warn you. The free grown banana plants in this area are singularly lacking in potassium.”

“Not like I plan on eating them,” Ranger Trevor said with one of those disconcerting shrugs. “As long as you can assure me that the trunk will be the same density as the trunks on Earth.”

“While the gravity is slightly less the winds are marginally stronger on average,” Fourth Sister said. “The density and structural integrity of the trunk should be equal or possibly superior depending on the prevailing wind conditions in your training area.”

“Sweet!” the human crowed as he reached forward and in a show of strength that was impressive even for a human lifted the small tree, bucket, soil, moisture and all up into his arms.

“While they do have a high fructose content,” Fourth Sister said, “trunk density is unrelated to sugar production.”

“He’s not eating the bananas,” Ranger Ferris said with a grin as he lifted himself off of the wall and began following them towards the transport that had brought the humans.

“If I may ask what are you going to do with the plant?” Fourth Sister asked, her curiosity finally piqued.

“He’s going to kick it down,” Ranger Ferris said with a laugh.

Fourth Sister flicked her antenna in perplexed surprise and watched as Ranger Trevor turned his head and extended his tongue as if he was going to clean his eyes, but then retracted the stubby organ again. It appeared to have been a physical communication to Ranger Ferris because the larger human only laughed harder.

“I know that human lower body strength is capable of amazing feats,” Fourth Sister said carefully as the smaller human tenderly loaded the plant into the transport, “but I did not think that extended to being able to kick down a tree of that age.”

“Well we do!” Ranger Trevor insisted.

“No you don’t,” Ranger Ferris interjected as he slipped into the control harness of the transport.

“Yes I,” Ranger Trevor hesitated and seemed to ponder a moment. “Yes I will,” he finally said. “I could do it now but there are these unnecessary self-mutilation safeties in the human brain. I just have to get those turned off and I’ll be able to do that by the time the tree is larger enough. Thanks again Fourth Sister.”

“This whole banana tree thing was trite two hundred years ago,” the larger human scoffed as the transport pulled out of the parking area. “You don’t need anything but a heavy bag.”

“It is a time honored tradition!” the smaller human insisted.

Fourth Sister stared after the departing humans with her frill extending and retracting tight to her neck as she worked over the conversation. The concept that a sane sapient being could consider any self-mutilation safety unnecessary was enough to send her antenna skittering. She pondered what she should do for several moment before giving up and activating the communication function on her datapad.

“Second Mother?” she asked when the other end activated. “I...just...please talk to the two humans coming in. Ask them about the banana tree.”

“Of course my smoothling,” Second Mother said with a soothing click. “You look stressed. Have you been alone too long?”

“No,” Fourth Sister said. “The humans visit at least twice a day…”

Second Mother clicked thoughtfully.

“I will send Second Brother out with Eighth Cousin,” she said decisively. “You could use a nice sensible male around the plants if the humans have been acting up.”

“That would be nice,” Fourth Sister admitted. “The humans have indeed been acting up. Do remember to ask them about the banana tree.”

​

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Humans are Weird – Chain Reaction

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Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-chain-reaction

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“Why do you want to know the educational background of every human on the evening shift?” the base commander asked as he squinted down at the stiff employee in front of his perch.

The Trisk shifted his many, far too many legs in what the base commander took to be a gesture of uneasiness.

“I want to ascertain if I can,” the Trisk said as he reached up nervously with his gripping leg to brush the sensory bristles over his primary eyes, “where these humans fall on the spectrum of human intelligence.”

“You are not rated as a psychologist,” the base commander said, flaring his wings out in cautious warning, “and this base does not have the capacity to contact any University extension capable of granting approval for research on sapient species.”

“I do not want to do active research,” the Trisk quickly protested. “I do not even want to make further passive observations. I just want to answer a question that was raised by observing what I assume was a recreational behavior among the field workers on the evening shift.”

The base commander considered this carefully. Even allowing passive research on a sapient species could raise tensions on a small base like this. However humans were notoriously curious and willing to be studied. On the other flap they usually insisted on being able to study whoever was studying them in turn and that could lead down very disruptive wind gusts. He ran a winghook over his sensory horns and nodded slowly as he pondered.

“I will have to discuss this with Third Cousin,” he said. “If we decide in your favor she will send you the files this afternoon.”

The Trisk nodded and skittered quickly out of the room. It was a fairly simple matter to contact Third Cousin and get her to agree to a meeting, but the meeting had to be delayed as she was quite busy in the medical bay. The base commander pulled up the medical records and blinked in surprise. It seemed that roughly half of the human population of the base was currently slated for minor medical attention. The symptoms showed a fascinating range from minor burns, to bruises, to one dislocated shoulder joint. The base commander winced and rolled his shoulder joints in sympathy. This was perplexing but hardly out of character for what he had been taught to expect from humans. He turned back to examining the surge in power requirements they had experienced since expanding their research fields.

In due time Third Cousin sent him a terse approval which he passed on to the Trisk. He didn’t quite forget about the issue but when the Trisk skittered into his office the next day with a gloomy set to his joints the base commander didn’t immediately ping why he was back.

“Can I serve you?” The base commander asked.

The Trisk brushed his eye hairs back and flexed in frustration.

“Thank you for obtaining the information for me,” the Trisk said.

The base commander remember to pause for six slow wing beats for responding.

“You are welcome,” he replied.

The Trisk bobbed his body in acknowledgment of the reply but didn’t go. The base commander wondered what the Trisk could want. That he wanted something more was clear.

“Did you answer you question?” The base commander asked.

“Not in the least,” the Trisk said with a glum set to his joints. “I only intensified my questions.”

“Would you like to tell me about your questions?” the base commander asked, hoping the Trisk had no such intentions.

However the Trisk perked up in relief and began circling slowly as he processed his thoughts. The base commander tried to subtly settle more comfortably on his perch, it was going to be a long explanation.

“I was out scouting outside of the fenced areas for the best places to set the insect traps,” the Trisk said. “I was accompanied by one of the morning shift human crew leads for protection. We had found many good sites but wanted to get some more as there was more time left in the day. I am afraid we went past our working hours for the day but our scouting was so successful. We were headed back and found a group of the evening shift humans wrapping up their work hours. The had been modulating the energy flow in the fencing and appeared to be gathering up the scattered insulating components.”

The Trisk paused and gave a sudden shudder, brushing his paws all over his body in a gesture that members of the species usually used to asses their bodies after an injury.

“One human was holding what I assumed was a cold wire but as we got closer I felt on my electro bristles that it was twitching,” the Trisk went on.

The base commander was trying to keep the Trisk colloquialism in mind while the other talked.

“I expressed my concern but my human escort pointed out that the human could not conduct the charge as his feet were insulated,” the Trisk said. “But then a second human set down a pad of insulation and grabbed the first human’s hand. Then a third did the same. Then each of the shift placed the insulation down and stepped on it, forming a chain of human hands.”

A massive shudder ran through the Trisk’s body as he recalled the next part.

“The final human put down his insulation and took the hand of the human next to him,” the Trisk finally forced himself to go on.

The base commander found himself oddly fascinated now. Something horrible was clearly coming and he couldn’t look away.

“The human who was with me had stopped walking and was watching them with his body poised as if he was expecting entertainment,” the Trisk went on. “The line of humans was focused on the last human in the line. They were encouraging him to do something. Finally the last human in line took off his foot coverings and stepped off his insulating pad.”

“But then the current would have a circuit and would have-” the base commander couldn’t help interjecting.

The Trisk stiffened in affront and to the base commander’s shock interrupted him.

“It shocked each human in the line, sending them all flying from the force of the electrocution,” the Trisk clicked out. “My escort was laughing, and once they recovered from their automatic pain display the rest of the humans were laughing as well.”

The Trisk stopped talking and the base commander stared at him in mild horror.

“What was their average educational level?” the base commander finally asked.

“Not one of them had less than a tertiary degree accredited from the home university,” the Trisk replied.

“Why?” the base commander suddenly burst out.

“I do not know,” said the Trisk grimly, “and now I am even without a theory.

​

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Humans are Weird – Stepping Into the Black

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-stepping-into-the-black

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“Human Friend Bryant?” Qilx’tch called out softly as he adjusted his hold on the cloth of the human’s uniform.

Human Friend Bryan gave a grunt that served to acknowledge that at least some part of his massive brain had registered the inquiry. Qilx’tch stared down at the dancing flames at the edge of his vision, blurred by the clouds of smoke. He really should raise his concerns about the situation. He glanced up at Human Friend Bryant’s eyes and hesitated yet again.

There was something terrifying there. Qilx’tch wasn’t exactly sure what it was. He had been around humans long enough to recognize joy, that that was pure joy bristling out of Human Friend Bryant’s every fiber. They were working so it made sense that the challenge of the task would inspire the look of concentration. Still there was some foreign element that Quilx’tch saw. Something that he couldn’t identify. The closest thing he could relate it to was predator fear, but this was far to akin to the joy it accompanied.

The crackling of the flames drew his attention back to ground and he shifted uneasily. There was no flame directly under the human’s feet. Human Friend Bryant had promised not to test the fire resistance of his protective foot equipment and he seemed to be keeping his word. Also at the distance of a human’s shoulder above the ground it was rather hard for even his primary eyes to discern distance to any great accuracy, but the flickering lights did seem to be creeping awfully close. Still he hesitated to say any thing.

His respirator chimed a warning and he pulled up the holographic display. He rubbed his free pair of limbs in a strange mix of relief and concern. The atmospheric purifier indicated that it was halfway to exhaustion. When it reached a quarter they would be forced by regulation to retreat back to the mobile command center. Granted for him that would not be for several more hours. They had be observing the combusting ground cover since the sun had peeked above the horizon, and the reason the human was walking in the dangerous green zone was that the wind had made the safe area that had already combusted too thick with smoke to be practicable for work. However the human’s larger metabolic oxygen demand meant that his filters would be failing soon.

Quilx’tch had almost decided to reach up and tug on the human’s ear in the agreed upon attention getting gesture when Human Friend Bryant gave a grunt and glanced away from the fire to look at the dermal light display on his wrist. He pulled up the oxygen settings and instead of suggesting they turn back simply used his free hand to exchange the oxygen filter with a new one he produced from one of his many and voluminous pockets. Quilx’tch rubbed his free appendages over his eye hairs and bristled himself up to get the human’s attention. One had to prioritize safety over pride after all, despite what these humans seemed to think. However Human Friend Bryant, pulled out of his observations by the necessity of changing the filter, seemed more observant of Quilx’tch’s state.

“You hanging in there okay little bud?” he asked.

“I am slightly anxious,” Quilx’tch freely admitted.

He was about to extrapolate but suddenly Human Friend Bryant stiffened and the fleshy coverings of his eyes tightened in a clear danger signal.

“Time to step into the black,” he stated shortly before lightly leaping the tallest of the flames and then quickly trudging though the smaller fires until they reached the retaliative safety of the already burned area.

“Why take this precaution now?” Quilx’tch asked in confusion.

He was grateful for the change but what had stimulated the human to strictly follow regulation now?

“It’s going to flare up soon,” the human replied with a shrug that sent Quilx’tch scrambling for a better perch. “We should probably head back to the rig, there’ll be no getting good readings for the rest of the day.”

“How do you know that?” Quilx’tch asked.

However at that moment Quilx’tch felt the wind shift dramatically and with a crackle the band of fire suddenly leapt into the air, shooting up to well over twice the human’s massive height in active flame. Sparks began to fall on them and the human raised the data pad he had been using to cover Quilx’tch. Human Friend Bryant took three quick steps backward and then spun and began trotting back towards the safety of the transport. Behind them the wall of flame advanced in the opposite direction and Quilx’tch gave a little shudder as he wondered what a danger signal that made a human run looked like to a species that could sense it.

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Humans are Weird – Supply and Demand

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Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-supply-and-demand

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The gleaming green sunlight was just angling down for the afternoon when Flight Sub-commander Twenty Clicks discovered that one of the humans had eaten the entire supply of acidic calcium supplement for the base. He had the holo-record right in front of him. He scratched the control screen one more time just to be sure of what he was seeing. It was a fairly simple situation on the fringes of the air mass.

The human had been on duty in the supply bay. It had been his job to fill all material requests for the base. Humans were exceptionally well adapted for this duty. Their height alone made working in the warehouses an easy matter for them. Their truly terrifying compressive strength meant that they ignored the lifting machines most of the time in favor of manually filling the orders. They were more likely to send the drones for the smaller packages than for the larger ones. Twenty Clicks had once seen a human lift an entire shelving unit full of prefabricated building cores simply to retrieve a scrap of paper that the human immediately tossed in the recycler.

Twenty Clicks scratched the control again to watch the scene over, trying to understand. The human was what they called middle aged. Not yet out of his reproductive cycle but past the prime of his breeding age. His hair was beginning to thin on the top of his head in a way that made him look dull and scattered. His uniform was clean, but rumpled. He was sprawled across the chair he was nominally sitting in. He had forced two of the supports off of the ground and was bracing the unballanced position by resting his legs on a nearby storage crate. In one hand he held a data pad which the helpful AI indicated was displaying one of the popular theoretical social simulations. The other had was otherwise occupied.

Twenty Clicks watched in fascination as the massive hand, easily as large as one of his wings, lifted from where it rested on the human’s thigh and drifted almost as if not under the control of the massive mammalian brain, towards the open bag of calcium citrate supplements that rested beside the human on a crate. The hand, all the time out of range of the human’s binocular vision, drifted over and past the bag till it reached nearly the full range of the humans flexibility then drifted back and began to make short passes in the general location of the bag.

This was clearly Undulate behavior, or perhaps it would be if the Undulate was old and blinded to visible light and was feeling around for something. Yet Twenty Clicks had checked and the human had spent only a nominal amount of training time with the Undulates. What this actually resembled was the slow groping reaching of a vine type plant for some secure hold. Twenty Clicks wondered if human hands had an autonomous search function. To think of that massive crushing power under the control of plant like chemical signals was terrifying.

On the display the hand brushed over the band and flexed to reach into the interior, moving more confidently now that it had tactile information. The hand closed over what the humans called a “handful” of the supplements. Enough to supply a dozen humans for a month. However the wandering hand slowly lifted them to the human’s mouth and began pushing the mass of supplements into a mouth that opened slackly to admit them. The human chewed approximately half the mass for several moments before swallowing with a massive gulp.

The hand then pressed in the rest and even as the mouth chewed the hand drifted back down to the bag. It groped around, with slightly slower motions this time, and pulled in another handful of the supplements. This process repeated itself a few dozen time until the bag was empty. When the hand finally found no more supplements in the bag it returned to the slack, rest position on his leg. It rested there for several moments.

However the inevitable consequence of ingesting that much calcium and ascorbic acid was quickly taking it’s tole on even the legendary metabolism of the human. His skin paled as his digestive system pulled blood to his gut to deal with the unexpected meal. The muscles around his eyes tightened and strained for a few moments. Then his mouth contracted in a grimace. The hand busy holding the datapad gave a spasm. The guilty hand rose and clutched at the human’s abdomen over the general location of his primary stomach. He narrowed his eyes and looked down at his abdomen with a perplexed expression.

“What the, ever loving-?” he muttered.

He glanced over at the empty bag of supplements and his face contorted with unease and perhaps guilt. Twenty Clicks was unsure. The human rose to his feet, staggering in place of his usual graceful movements. His guilty hand reached around to clutch his abdomen as he staggered to the comm-unit on the wall. He braced one shoulder against the wall and carefully pulled up the supplies manifest. He typed in an order for an emergency refill on the supplies, hesitated when he came to the section in the form that requested a reason, and after a moment typed in ‘accidental destruction’. The human then staggered back to his seat and collapsed in it with a groan. He stayed there for the rest of his shift and Twenty Clicks let the recording play until it showed his own wings flitting into the storage area to request a new carry harness.

He sighed as he turned off the recording. He had of course ordered the recalcitrant human to the medical bay and the Shatar Medic on duty had soon relieved the human’s distress with an oral administered oil flush. It had seemed extreme to the Winged but the Shatar and the Human both agreed it was the safest method to cleanse his digestive tract of the calcium build up. When, after the treatment, Twenty Clicks had pressed for an explanation, the human had only shrugged.

“I didn’t notice what I was doing,” he said. “It was a good book.”

Humans are Weird ​Book Series

Amazon (Kindle, Paperback, Audiobook)

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Kobo by Rakuten (ebook and Audiobook)

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Please Leave Reviews on the Newest Book!

Have a super boring day job and looking for books that'll help me escape to a different world!

I've enjoyed books from Brandon Sanderson, Brent Weeks, Patrick Rothfuss, (but hate him for not releasing Kingkiller Book 3), N.K. Jemisin, Mark Lawrence etc. I've also enjoyed multiple books in the LitRPG genre.

Based on the above, any books you'd recommend? I've probably read many of the super popular ones that you get when you Google, "top sci-fi / fantasy books" so maybe some of the lesser known / hidden gems

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“Dying Embers”

Dragons, Aliens, and Things that go Boomp in the Night

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08D516KP7

#ScienceFantasy #book #Aliens #tragedy #FoundFamily

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Today I’ll be reviewing the 2022 cyberpunk book 36 Streets by T.R. Napper.

DISCLAIMER: In the interest of full disclosure, the author of this book and I are both part of the same writer's guild, and I attended his book launch for 36 Streets last year.

The author, T.R. Napper is an Australian man who's had an interesting career prior to becoming an author: he was a diplomat and aid worker who delivered humanitarian programs in Southeast Asia, East Asia and Mongolia. But specifically relevant to this book, which is set in Vietnam, he lived in Hanoi for three years. He's won several awards, has had his works published in science fiction and speculative fiction magazines and received a creative writing doctorate with the thesis: Noir, Cyberpunk and Asian Modernity, all themes explored in this book. If you'd like to know more, his website is http://nappertime.com/ .

36 Streets is the debut novel of T.R. Napper. The book is an adult cyberpunk novel set in a dystopian future where Vietnam, or the north of it at least, has fallen under Chinese military rule. The eponymous 36 Streets is another name for the Old Quarter of Hanoi, where the Chinese authorities generally stay out and allow a Vietnamese crime gang to maintain order. The story deals heavily with the concept of memory, and the reliability or otherwise of it, in a world with ubiquitous neutral interfaces and hyperrealistic virtual reality.

The protagonist is Lin Thi Vun, a young woman who was born in Vietnam but grew up in Australia. Even though she speaks the language of her country of birth, her English is more natural and she doesn't trust her own Vietnamese language expertise and hasn't mastered a local accent. She feels self-conscious and like an outsider: she never felt truly Australian, but she doesn't really feel Vietnamese either. She's caught between worlds. Lin has worked her way up through the ranks of the criminal organisation that runs the 36 Streets, and spends her downtime getting drunk, high and picking up bar girls. She struggles with the murky morality of some of the jobs she has to do, not so much the breaking of kneecaps types of things, but like the job we see her doing in the opening chapter, of catching a member of the resistance against the Chinese occupation and handing him over to the Chinese authorities for the bounty which doesn't sit right with her.

The main thrust of the story kicks off when Lin is tasked by her boss to act as a private investigator and meet with a wealthy foreign businessman, the Englishman Herbert Molayson, who doesn't trust the official story of what happened to his two friends and business partners: one whose death was explained away too conveniently by the authorities for him to trust, and one who's gone missing and who no one can find any trace of. Lin chasing down leads and pulling on this thread, like an old-school hard-drinking noir detective, is what gets her involved in a conspiracy involving the regime and mega-corporations, a conspiracy that even learning about can lead to deadly consequences.

This book was great. Especially once the main private eye mystery arc began, I was hooked. I really can't understate how much I enjoyed the private investigation aspects of this story. I really enjoyed the pompous but shrewd Englishman Herbert Molayson who commissioned Lin to find his friend. However, I enjoyed the much rougher Hermann Hebb even more by comparison. Lin herself is an enjoyable protagonist to spend time with, although I'd be terrified to meet her in person. She's a flawed character who pushes people away and engages in self-destructive behaviour (like smoking, getting routinely blackout drunk and her addiction to the drug ice-seven), but when threatened doesn't back down or go down without a hell of a fight, even if she's outgunned. One thing I particularly enjoyed was that the first act we see her take, stunning and capturing a resistance member for a bounty, she almost completely screws up. She catches him, alright, but her nerves are on-edge because of her ice-seven addiction and instead of taking him down cleanly she misfires her stun gun and has to engage in hand-to-hand combat to get the job done, getting seriously injured in the process.

Having been to Vietnam on holiday, I could almost feel and smell the air of the streets as depicted by Napper in the book. It's probably a setting that is underexplored in English-language literature, especially in the cyberpunk genre. Other things I appreciated was that Lin, quite realistically, doesn't even start the book carrying a firearm: she's dangerous enough with a knife and stun gun. The technology of the world feels very feasible, like it's just out of reach of today's technological capabilities. The depiction of cybernetics are awesome (with a lot of information given via on-retinal display, for example). Little touches in the details show that this is a future where climate change has bitten in, with frequent mentions of vat-grown beef (as opposed to from cows on farmland), faux-wood tables and flexiscreens.

While the story overwhelmingly takes place within Vietnam, occasionally there are peeks and hints of just how dystopian the outside world has become: a mention of the "former" United States of America, Australia's gone full xenophobia like it's full of One Nation voters, Britain's described as "a despotic island off the coast of Europe", Pakistan appears to be a theocracy now, and so on. I haven't mentioned the virtual reality game that the investigation centres around, a re-creation of the Vietnam War from the perspective of an American soldier, and where the player always loses by being brutally killed) because that's best left to be explored in the book itself.

Pulling back from the details to a more meta perspective, the chapters were refreshingly short, which gave the book a quick pace. I never realised how much I love short chapters until I read this book. There was a flashback that the author held back until its reveal was perfectly timed in the plot. The violence is gritty and visceral, and the author is not shy about killing off named characters in the most brutal ways possible. For example, there's an antagonist with a BROADSWORD who is so violent and effective that it's terrifying any time he makes an appearance. The ending of the book felt very satisfying, and Lin makes a decision I didn't expect her to at the end.

Would I recommend this book? Of course! In fact, on Reddit alone I've recommended the book around 20 times. Well, once I’ve posted this review everywhere, it’ll be closer to 30 or 40 times.

I recommend this book to anyone looking for any combination of the following elements:

• A cyberpunk book
• A sci-fi book
• A private eye / noir-like / mystery book
• A standalone book (not part of a series)
• Book with a culturally complex and bilingual protagonist (grew up with two different cultures)
• Book written by an Australian
• Book with a female protagonist
• Book with a gay protagonist
• Book set in Vietnam
• Book set in an urban environment
• Book set in a gritty future
• Book for an adult audience

In summary, this book was a brutally visceral read and is such a shining example of the cyberpunk genre. It makes me think I need to read more cyberpunk, a genre I'd never actively sought out before, and if only because of that, I strongly recommend it.

And one final thought to leave on: As I neared the end of the book, I became painfully aware that I was going to miss Lin checking the time or reading messages via her on-retinal display when I moved onto other books. Especially given I normally read fantasy books, I knew I was really going to miss those little touches. I think that when I’m pre-emptively realising I’m going to miss an aspect of a book once I’ve finished reading it … well, that tells me I enjoyed it quite a bit. Easily one of the best books I’ve read in years.

Oh, and it has a glowing endorsement from Richard Morgan (author of Altered Carbon) on the front cover, in case that’s something you might find interesting.