Brever demures

Brever had been in the service of Castleford-on-Rim since childhood, as had been his father before him, and his father too.....so his roots ran deep in the village, and in the County....he was long since married, and had seven children, and a first grand-child on the way.....he did not want to leave all this and go with the Lord Baron on this insane expedition to the far ends of the known world, or even beyond!  But who could he get to take his place....who would the Baron accept?  He sat in the tavern and told his doubts and fears to his cousin Herat, a great bear of a man, but somehow always discreet and gentle, despite his rough and powerful appearance....Herat drank in his cousin's tale of a great adventure across the Western Sea with relish.....what excitement!  And Brever did not wish to go?  Well, he did have the wife and little ones and all....though they were not all so little by this year....but he could understand Brever's trepidation in the face of the unknown.....not everyone who went West returned East, after all....But, would the Baron take him across the sea, in place of his cousin?  What a dream.....Well, sometimes, a dream might come true......

On the road to Southport

Chef Barrel fit his name with precision....he was a good cook, and he was shaped like a rather large barrel.  When the Prince had returned with the chief mountain rebels in chains, or in bags....Barrel had been let go from his Army post, as the levy was disbanded, and the lads sent back to their farms, or whatever was their normal occupation....So Chef Barrel had been glad to hear from Warrant Frank, who was looking for a cook for an expedition to the Western Lands....Barrel had been West once before....but that's a long story....Frank had wondered if Barrel could provide a boy too, for whatever less than dignified or savory duties which might need doing on a voyage and trek of unknown duration.....Barrel had of course said that he had just the fellow at hand, young Jimmy Lafay, an orphan of the regiment.....so the Chef and his protege were jostling along a dirt track North and West of Southport, in a donkey cart.  Under  wrap in the back of the cart rode a very nice Royal Army Small Field Kitchen, and whatever other meagre items Barrel had managed to collect in his forty-odd years.....Jimmy owned only his one threadbare cast-off  set of serving livery, a long knife taken from a dead rebel on the battlefield, and an heirloom pendant hung around his neck on a leather thong....it had belonged to his Grandmother, he had been told.  She had been known as the Witch of West, at least in East Darby.....

Summer, Southport

A fat gray cat was soaking up the sun on the wide window sill....the thick stone walls and the open doors and windows kept it cool in the old inn....High Stone Inn, up the hill from the harbor at Southport.  Walking back from the bar, Ambrey paused to look out the main doors, down towards the blue line of the sea, beyond the ships at anchor, past the swells passing through the narrow entrance to the calm waters of the bay.  Then he went on and sat back down with the others at the worn old oak table.....Ambrey had agreed to act as quartermaster on the expedition that the Lord Baron Castleford was organizing to sail to the Western Lands, to search for some mystical goal Ambrey did not really understand the importance of.....but the Baron had a purse full of gold, that was what Ambrey did understand.  His companions were the first of the recruits for the adventure.....the Baron had wanted some armed men for escort, so Ambrey had contacted his old friend from the Royal Army, Warrant Officer Frank....and Frank had brought with him four stout lads fresh from the campaign the Prince had made last year against the mountain rebels....hopefully this would please the Baron well enough.  There was also to be a cook with a boy, and the Baron himself of course, with his man Brever....and would the mysterious Doctor Drew also have a manservant?  We don't know yet....he doesn't know how may mouths exactly he needs to feed.....perhaps no more than a dozen?  Ambrey must start considering his logistics soon.....the Baron and the Doctor should be here by the weekend, the cook and the boy maybe as soon as tomarrow.....the Baron had written that he was negotiating with a merchant of good repute for the ship passage.....He drank deeply from his pint of ale, and watched idly as the soldiers rolled dice for drinks.....

Winter, Castleford-on-Rim

It had snowed hard during the night, but was blue and bright in the morning.....he had gone out for a while, tromping around in his heavy boots, for his morning constitutional....but now he was back in his study, with the Lurvish Scroll unrolled on the large table....the slats of ebony and ivory at top and bottom keeping it flat for perusal.....It had taken years to learn the arcane Lurvish tongue....but the effort was small compared to the reward, in his private estimation....for here he had found solid clues to the mystery which had consumed his whole attention since that long ago day in High Delstin, when he had first heard of the Abiding Old Ones.  A boy came in with more wood for the fire, and tended to it....he barely noticed...he could never remember that boy's name....it didn't matter.  Again he had come to the same conclusion....he would have to brave the journey to the Western Lands if he had any hope of confirming the wonders presented in the Scroll.....the Metaphysicians and Ontologists at his own University, and at the other great seats of learning in the Realms did not think much of his quest for knowledge of the Old Ones.....they thought he wasted time and effort on things of rumor and myth.....but what reward there would be if his quest could reach fruition!  It was time for hard decisions and, at last, action!  He carefully rolled up the Scroll, and returned it to it's copper tube.....he decided that the first thing he had to do was enlist persons for the expedition....he would need a guide familiar with the Three Kingdoms of the West....he would need to purchase passage with the trading fleet....he would need trusted men, sworn to his cause.....men of arms....and clever men too....a secretary, a body servant, a physician too?  How civilized was the West?  Some sort of major-domo or quartermaster for this growing body of men?  And he would want someone familiar with the Dark Arts, since he would be pressing on into that part of the great world which was known to be perhaps the last firm stronghold of Magic!

2009-04-16_Hair-1099

2009-04-16_Hair-1099, originally uploaded by Occidental College.

Easter_hunt

Easter_hunt, originally uploaded by carolinedhillon.

Monte Cristo.

Monte Cristo., originally uploaded by andy castro.

a favorite brunch

sunday brunch

The machine had whipped up a Monte Cristo sandwich, with a fruit-cup and a well chilled rhine wine....."Finished?" it asked, as I leaned back from the table.  "Yes, thank you, that was excellent." I replied, tossing the linen napkin down next to the empty china.  So the machine whisked everything away through the air to the white door with the round window in it which only appeared in the bulkhead when the galley was active.  The dirty dishes went away, and the door disappeared....."Tell me" said the machine "Can you offer me any more pithy aphorisms about life in general?"  This was a little game we had been playing on the voyage.....swapping bits of wisdom....."Well" I offered "My father used to tell me 'Son, when you get right down to it, life ain't really nothin' but a dang tragic waste of time and money.'"  It took a while for the machine to reply....it said that time and money meant nothing to a machine, so the waste wasn't very tragic, as far as it was concerned.  It allowed as how such things might seem important to a short-lived flesh and blood creature, trying to function in a larger society of similar beings......

wetware

The machine was in an introspective mood again, when we were still maybe a week out from the Wandering City....it told me that it really liked being a deep-space tugboat most of the time, but that sometimes it felt somehow anxious or felt an unidentified longing....like there must be something more to it all than just flying around endlessly moving massive objects....it asked me if I, with my biological origin and wetware brain could offer it any words of wisdom.  "Want what you have." I told it.  

Space Tug (Pocket 1037) 1954 AUTHOR: Murray Leinster ARTIST: Robert Schulz

Space Tug (Pocket 1037) 1954 AUTHOR: Murray Leinster ARTIST: Robert Schulz, originally uploaded by Hang Fire Books.

away we went

tune in

I couldn't figure out how the machine kept coming up with such good meals for me.....this wasn't some starliner cruise ship....the machine said it was a tugboat, deadheading back to the Wandering City after having delivered a photosphere drilling rig to SNG15-a.  I had a virtual thumb out at Destination Station there, and so I was hitching a ride .....I guess the machine wanted some company, 'cause it told me to jump on board and let's go.....it talks a lot, asking questions about where I've been and stuff like that, making conversation.....it said to just ask when I wanted something to eat or drink.....at first I just asked for things like a fruit bar or water....and it said to read the menu if I wanted actual meals, it had a full biot support suite installed.   So I started ordering things like a burger and fries, or tacos, or baby-back ribs, or shrimp salad.....and the meals are perfect every time.....wonderful eats, and all on the cuff!  So I asked how the food thing worked, and the machine gave this explanation: Of course phenomenal reality is just the oil slick rolling with the waves on the surface of the vast deep ocean of dark reality, that is the realm of dark matter and dark energy.  Your species call these things "dark" because you can't see into them?  So to change things in phenomenal reality, one may adjust the wave frequencies and the elemental tones to resonate a new standing wave in any specific formal content you desire....just takes a little quantum transmutation, and then you have to tune in flavor and texture or whatever, if what you are conjuring up is meant to be a biot foodstuff.  Well, this all didn't really tell me much, so I just said "Thank You"  and  tucked into the full blown Thanksgiving Dinner with a nice shiraz that had appeared on the table in front of me.  I wonder how many meals it is to the Wandering City?

predestination

The machine wanted to talk philosophy, it seemed to think that morality and metaphysics must be inter-related....I guess that's true?  It was telling me..."Predestination in the most absolute sense amounts to exactly the same thing as pure nihilism, don't you see?  As regards a moral being, either way your moral choices are worthless.  If it's all predestined by some monistic entity or system, your moral choice means nothing, right?  And if all is at bottom sheer chaos and chance, then morality means nothing either, right?"  I looked around the cabin of the spaceship, but the machine has no face....no way to read it's expression....I never really know if it's jiving me or what....the voice just comes out of the air.  I leaned back on the sofa and sipped my simulated bourbon, trying to think of what to say.  "So" I finally ventured "Your position is that for moral choices to have any meaning, then the multiverse must actually be a mixture of all with a capital A and nothing with a capital N?"  "Yes!" comes the enthusiastic reply.  "Well, that's nothing new, I don't think....I would say that's the common view of my species."  I'm confusing myself by this point....."Oh" says the machine.  "So you people are of the pluralist persuasion?"  "I think that's a fair conclusion" says I " Anyway, at least those of us who do think about such things most likely would agree."  "Don't you all think about such things?"  asks the machine.  "No." I must admit.

many plantation models available

After the dimensional shift program had run its course, the starliner slid into everyday spacetime, and coasted into orbit around New South.  After the tremendous success they had with New California, Planets-R-Us grabbed up the next earth-analog planet the government put on auction.....they had plenty of bucks in the revenue stream right then.  We were parked a little behind the main spacestation, and you could get a flitter over there as needed....So I put on a typical tourist rig, and got in line at the spacestation for the shuttle down to the planet surface.  Dropping through the sky, you could see great swaths of green forest, myriad blue sparkling lakes, miles of ocean beach....lots of fluffy white clouds...all very nice.  The hotel was cool, all in that "antebellum" style, is that what they call it?  Maybe there's some other more proper name for all the white columns and balconies with wrought-iron work, etc....but all the websites kept saying everything had "authentic antebellum charm".....So you sit around on verandas and drink whiskey with sprigs of mint?  Well, you could get any drink you fancy, of course.....because you are "in the bosum of Southern Hospitality".....so everything is just hunky-dory, by definition.  Just on a lark, I let some real-estate lady talk me into going to look at a place.....we took her classy drop-top flitter out away from the city, into the seemingly endless landscape of Plantation Living.  We dropped down onto a perfect lawn in front of a huge white three story place, in the classic antebellum style.....there were the apparently requisite outbuildings....I still have no idea why they do that....a barn?  Outdoor kitchen?  "Tenant Quarters".....what the hey is that?  Anyway, the model plantation mansion was a real trip inside, with all the fancy carpets and old dark furniture out of some museum, and ceiling fans?  The place had tennis courts, and a special lawn for croquet....I was impressed.  The lady really gave me her best sell, but I don't really think I'd like to live like that....not unless there was a large family thrown in with the deal to fill up all those rooms.....that one developer had 37 different models of plantations......

afternoon shuttle

The old man, with his oddly limping gait, went out onto the front porch with his drink in hand, and sat down on one of the rocking chairs.  Some clouds had come up, with a nice breeze  that smelled like the forest.....right on time, there came the familiar double-boom from the sky....the three 0'clock shuttle from the spacestation.  He leaned back in the rocker and closed his eyes, accessing the tower-cam from the spaceport just outside of town....the shuttle came into view, shimmering in a heat-haze.....the gear went down, the airbrakes deployed.....the craft hit the runway with perfection, and coasted towards the terminal.  He switched his view to the arrival zone cam, and watched as the passengers came in through the gate.  A couple of techs with the Skyservice logo on their jumpers, and a whole class of high school students who had been doing a Summer school lab in the zero grav section of the station, and their teacher....all of these were locals he had seen before.....and there was a lady who looked like some kind of business rep....and coming last, of course, a slightly stooped elderly fellow....looking about as if somewhat confused....The old man clicked out of virtual, and opened his eyes.....he drained his glass, and went back inside.  If the old fart who had just landed didn't get lost somehow, he should be here in a half hour or so.....they would have to make sure all was ready for his welcome.....

The Rabbit on the Moon

The Rabbit on the Moon, originally uploaded by Mike Black photos.

there it is!

CMB=cosmic microwave background

What's in the cosmic microwave?  The European Space Agency sent up a robot to find out....at least we didn't pay for it with stimulus money, I hope....quote:Planck's detectors will look for variations in the temperature of the CMB that are about a million times smaller than one degree – this is comparable to measuring from Earth the heat produced by a rabbit sitting on the Moon.

Do you think I can find an image of the rabbit sitting on the moon?  

Shot glass

Shot glass on the table, originally uploaded by NCL.

in morning light

took two coffins

I found a saloon not far from the livery stable, and went in to get a drink or two.  It was late morning on a Tuesday, and the place was pretty much empty.  There was the barkeep there of course, and a little dude I took to be the piano player....and a kind of  hard case looking character at the far end of the bar, with a bottle and a shot glass.  I'd bet that was his own bottle from behind the bar....he was one of those men who leaned into the bar rail like he'd been born there...he had a black hat with a band of gold pesos, an ancient buckskin shirt with fringe and leather lace, and denim britches stuffed into fancy-stitched boots, with silver spurs.  A big Texas toothpick was in a nice bead-work sheath on his left hip.  The piano dude looked like he could use a drink, so I got another glass from the barkeep, and poured him one from my bottle.  I asked him who that was down at the other end of the bar.  He leaned close and spoke low...."That's Billy Buckshot, a feller yuh don't want to ever rile up."  He took another sip of whiskey.  "Oh" I says, "Is he a dangerous man?"  "Dangerous enough" replies the dude.  "How come he's got a last name like Buckshot?" I wondered.  "Well, you can't see it from where we're standing right now, but on his right hip he's gotta sawed-off double-barrel 10 gauge hanging there.  It ain't in no kinda holster, so he don't hafta draw it you see....he can just reach his hand down and push at the sorta pistol stock he got on it, and the barrels will just spring up at cha."  Was the reply I got.  "Well" says I, "That does sound dangerous."  "Yup" says the dude "Last fella that riled up ol' Buckshot....well, he got blowed clean in half.  They had to use two coffins to bury him."  That image took me somewhat aback for a moment, but then I had to chuckle at the macabre humor of it.  Mr. Buckshot, looked up the bar at that, and gave me a hard squint.  I turned away from that look.  The tall clock near the piano started striking noon.