Warehouse on the beach

Open sky above a cornflower sea

Smooth sand crumpled in waves

Red rust and so much dust

A slab that’s been eaten away

Crabs and octopuses live in little pools inside

Mosquitoes and frogs and little salty tree

The roof has almost gone

Where did it go?

Their is a staircase to nowhere 

And a so many rusty walls

A frame for something

Little rusty machines whose purpose now is to provide shelter for oysters and plants and little spiders

Eels are near one end, hiding in a salty briny pool the waves have cavound away

A little sign still somehow hanging on for dear life says 

“We work to make a better world.”

A little breeze and it finally lets go of its final rust filled screw

A clang. A noose. A place to be dead and be forgotten.

Tonight it is my home. Tomorrow I move on. I wounder if I want crab or eel for tea. 


Drag on the chains

I’m telling you it’s mashed.
The clash.
Playing on the radio
Telling. Because.
First a nightmare.
Then a time of day.
N. Nia. Jettisoned.
Drag on the chain.
Selling on your name.
I’m glad you gave me something worth using.

Hammersmith. Chapter thirteen.

It’s clear my research on the Incident is flawed. I’m reading this book, the Hammersmith clan. It’s not a pirate clan at all. It was a university group. The Hammersmith Clan was its name. The founders in Hammersmith, London. It’s was a international consortium of underground research. Stuff that the governments back then banned. Some of it is stuff even the fairly liberal Sol government would not look lightly on.
Researchers did things on clones, nanotechnology, cyber technology, epiramental new limitless AI, stem cells, anything that was banned or the research journals wouldn’t publish. They even published their own little journal they called The cannon.
So what went wrong?
It seems they split up. Some called themselves The Reds. The opposing group was called The Blues. They all decided to leave earth. Figuring the researchers who had been caught were Martyrs.
8 ships. 6 groups.
They managed to make a home for themselves. But some stayed behind.
Some of the ones into nanotechnology and AI.
They caused the incident.
It wasn’t one thing.
I knew it.
The AIs they had. Three of them.
One escaped before the other two started using humans as pawns. Then these two AIs. They got found out. We had a war with them. But they were so good at hiding themselves. Who knows, they could be alive still.
Of course I can’t publish this stuff. I would be laughed out of the SOL history academy. The AIs we have now are working with humanity. We proved our worth and they theirs and they got laws to protect themselves, but also we got laws to protect ourselves. The idea that AI would be so dangerous is now is often thought of as laughable. All those born now are used to them.
Who doesn’t have fond memories of Lisa? The children AI.
Or Verne, the Science AI who helped us get to Tau Ceti and rebuild Tyr. He’s dead now though. Sydney the one who stays silent. And 
Tyr. The defense AI. Fighting with us against the so called Pirates and stopping them from taking all the precious minerals is the Sol system. Helping us import materials from our colonies in the system and now from Tau and the newer colonies in the rest of Ceti, Centauri, Erdani and Cygnus.

If I am going to prove this I need real evidence. I need to go into space. Find the Pirates. Figure out if these old AIs are still alive and somehow get all this evidence to someone who can believe me.

Bela stopped dictating. She saved her work behind a secure firewall. She would send Mario the password if she got her evidence. If she died or didn’t get to send her computer the little code after 30 days the info would auto-send to Lisa, Tyr and Mario and post public all over the holonet. They could take it down, but the chances someone saw it is huge.
Maybe no one would believe it.
Maybe they would.

“Now to go home.” She said to herself.
Bela picked up her things and left a note to Mario.
“I suppose I have to let my babies go now.”
Tears filled her eyes.

Herald for euphoria

Sound the trumpets of delight,
The mighty wings of joy that spread through our own betwixt might,
In addition to our exclusive flowers, taste the fruit of the hours

Thundering down the plain,
Put forward the Calvary’s domain,
The squelching paps of angelic grass,
Celebrating all that has come and past

For flags are to wave,
On our parapets of ours to cave,
Into the Casino of desires,
A lottery were winning erupts in joyful fires

An official affliction

Inside. I’m not sure.
I can’t help.
I know it’s there.
I’m foggy and hurt, stranger in my home.
Pain enters my nerves like poison.
Blue sky’s I never see.
Just a window and a bed.
I’m never seeing another children’s head.
They. They. Saying another day.
I’m not sure there is one.

Hammersmith, chapter twelve.

To describe what exactly this feeling was would be to give it a reality that was unborn of its kin. Like a festival held in a swamp, sticking and festering in its entirety while still showing the world its purpose. It’s the kidneys of feelings. The liver of the soul. The fish swim in its streams are not hungry. The insects are fat and bloated. The music of the festival is dark and full of melodrama. Anger was still here but in good company. There was still hope and growth and the beer flows well, the barley is freshly harvested and the food is a culinary adventure but a pleasant one nonetheless.

Darren sat in his apartment living room listening to the next track on the album. Each one tied to a memory of Mary. The next song was a really old Passion in Liverpool cover of a Jethro Tull song called Budapest. We met in Budapest. In a cafe near a Medárch Square in Elizabethtown. The memory came back like a dream.

“Hello their handsome.”
Sitting a short distance from Darren Mary is in this cafe. Her short black hair and red dress shining in the mid morning sun.
In his SF uniform Darren had joined pretty much as soon as it formed.
Realizing he didn’t have much better to do, being utterly lost and completely unable to be on time, he sits.
“Hi… I’m Darren, Lieutenant Darren Verne. Do you know where the Budapest Space Force building is?”
Mary took her sunglasses off. “Oh. It’s far from here. You will need a good coffee before you get back on the bus.” Arching her back and sitting up properly Mary isn’t a small woman. Almost six and a half feet, she’s quite elfine.
Darren takes a seat.
“If I’m going to be late, it’s a good thing I get to meet you. I am sure the Space Force needs me to be a pilot, but I can be late for one lesson.”
“They haven’t taken all the rebellion out of you then.”
“The SF? Hah. I’m only in uniform as its day one of my astro course. Tomorrow and the rest of the semester its slacks with band names and a music player if the lecture is dull. I’m don’t even need to be in my uniform today really, but it helps set the mood for me. Gets me ready to learn.”
“I’m cycling round Europe on a break from her medical degree, I’m about a year late for my last lecture!” Mary laughs a choral that fills the air like chimes.
Budapest had been one of the few cities left completely unscathed by those events they now call the Incident.
Mary buys him a coffee to take away and walks with him, then takes the bus with him, then later on she’s standing with her bike and another outside the university building.
She smiles a huge smile at Darren and says “Hey Mr Pilot. Let’s see if those big legs are as good as they look like they are!”

The memory fades as the last flute solo and rock chord play.

Darren presses repeat.

The smell of the coffee. Good real coffee. It’s not as hard to come by now. All this an in a hour it’s over. But I have her number, she’s in Budapest for a week. I’m here till I have done my astronavigation course and am ready for the mixed G training. She’s a nurse though maybe she knows something that will help. So halfway though my next lecture I text her.

sure do. Ginger, exercises, inner ear medicine, and vomit bags :p

how did you know that so quick?

they don’t call me Dr. For nothing. My specialty is space medicine.

of course I befriend the space dr on luck 🙂

so we are friends, huh? I thought you might like a date before I leave bud?

I almost yell out in class.
My lecturer, Dr Bova asks. “So you have a strong opinion on my calculations Mr… Uh… Verne?”
“Um no. Sir.” I say apologetically.

just interrupted my class I got so excited! Tonight?
19:30 Blue on the glen. Wear that sexy uniform military boy
yes Ma’am


Then there she is. In a uniform as well!
“Hey there. I’m Lt. Mary Havester, I believe we where scheduled for a date?”


The dream like state goes and music starts to fade.
Tears are streaming down Darren’s face. “No more. I will remember the rest of that night, when I am ready.”

Haze of life

I walk the streets, feeling meek
A cloud above my head
Feeling utterly dead
What was that they said?
I’m not able to hear
Fear, hate, they are dear, to me
The haze of life around them
Their plastic lovesick pup and the leash they are on
At least they could try to see the whips of their barren masters
They are created casters of spells you cannot tell

I walk the streets feeling meek
The haze of these things in the air
I try to show them how things grow
Through the pavement path my children sowed
The path is poisonous though, it suffocates them
I still try
Maybe some hear my song
Sheltered by the tree one stands
She smells different
I see the haze has lifted from her eyes

One of them
The rest of the day goes well
Walking the streets feeling not as meek
Then I come back to where she was
And they, those sprits of plastic
Like a cloak on her back
Trying to re create the haze
She looks at me and sees me
No one has ever seen me for centuries

I tell her I am Jack
I have your back
Now you see
You will be free like me
And then there are two of us
Walking the streets, feeling not as meek
Maybe we will find more soon
My feet are so tired