GreyBeard Dreaming

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Dimension of Spiders

My  Original Portal Story.  “it came to me in a dream.  Many years ago.


Dimension of Spiders
Chapter 1
Medicine Wheel.
In the dark of the night in the forsaken wastes of the western united states lay a Petroform.  There were thousands of such prehistoric rock constructions  scattered throughout the continent and many more thousands throughout the world.  They'd  been there since before living memory of the local peoples. No one knew what they were there for although there were speculations.  Speculations usually involving religion....astronomy or weather.
Wrong.
  This one began to glow..........starting as a faint luminosity barely discernible by the naked eye but getting brighter and brighter.  Had one the resources it might have been instructive to note that vastly greater energies were hinted at in the sub and supra visible spectrum.  Faint to begin with but with increasing brightness, rays of multi and mono-chromatic light began to trace the shape of a portal. A portal the size of an aircraft hangar door...for a BIG aircraft. Increasingly brighter and brighter ,....... then..,  almost faster than the eye could follow,  a shape emerged from the ray traced portal and sped away across the plains...... accompanied by the sound of a great wind.
The portal vanished like a popped soap bubble....and the petroform's  glow diminished and went away.  Shortly it was as if nothing had happened.
* * *
Rolling across US Highway 50 in western Utah in the pre-dawn twilight were a trio of BullRacks.  They were, as usual for cow-haulers, overloaded and speeding.  The more time cows spent on-board and traveling the more weight they lost.  The more weight they lost the less the cow-haulers got paid.  It was in the best interests of the cow-haulers bank account to absolutely minimize the time interval between loading and unloading.  Triple digit speeds helped them achieve that goal.
This stretch of Highway 50 was conducive to high speeds.  As far as one could see in front, and equally far behind, horizon to horizon was flat as a billiard table.  The highway was straight as a ruler.  Normally there wasn't any traffic....especially at this time of the night.   Over the border in Nevada, the locals had named US 50  "The loneliest highway in America."  It  was positively urban by comparison to this stretch in Utah.
Moving along at speeds in excess of one hundred and ten miles per hour, spaced about a quarter of a mile apart...the trio of bull racks sped thru the night.Normally , if there was any other traffic, the the bull racks were much, much faster.
Not this morning.  They were being overtaken....and rapidly.
The driver of the rear bull rack first noticed the pursuit in his rear view mirror. He immediately informed his buddies using the CB radio.
"Hey ya'll" he said "...something coming up from behind ...REAL fast...it's gonna pass.".
" Can't let that happen guys" said one of the other drivers..."mash your motor".
So they did....each Peterbilt was powered by tricked out Caterpillar engines which displaced about a thousand cubic inches, and put out over six hundred horse power. Eighteen speed "double overdrive" transmissions and 3.23 "rears" provided a theoretical top speed of over one twenty miles per hour.  The drivers had no idea how MUCH more...their speedometers "pegged" at 120. The speedometers had been pegged for some time.
The over taking apparition was brightly lit. At first the truckers thought it was an aircraft..but as it rapidly overhauled  them it appeared to be a "chicken truck". An extremely LARGE chicken truck.
Were there an observer properly located he would have observed three bull racks, hammer down, engines bellowing with smoke billowing from their twin stacks, screaming across the asphalt at about one hundred and forty miles per hour.  Behind them and rapidly overtaking them was another, very odd looking, VERY large truck which was DECELERATING RAPIDLY  so as not to pass the trio at too great of a speed.  Upon catching up to the semi's the apparition strolled past them slowly....if one might consider a hundred and fifty miles an hour to be "strolling".
Looking out his window each trucker in turn , as they were consequently passed,  saw a vehicle pass them unlike anything they had ever before seen...and they were veteran drivers of many years.
In the passenger side window of the high speed monster....swear to gawd...there appeared to be a white cat , serenely  observing the slower trucks as they were passed. The cat was wearing an eye patch...and was smoking a cigar.
When the monster wagon passed the trio of straining bull racks....and was a safe distance ahead it accelerated.
RAPIDLY.
Within in minutes is was out of sight ...and over the horizon.
* * *
Onboard the high speed Leviathan.
"That was cute" said the driver...who...in a bad light...might pass as human.
"Who you calling cute?" said the cat smoking his cigar. "quit dawdling....the next gate is due to transit shortly..you wasted enough time not blowing the locals off the road."
"Uh Oh" said the driver.
"In times like this Uh-oh" is not a helpful statement"  said the cat.
"On the radar....now...you can see it visibly...just before the gate..."...said the driver, rapidly manipulating controls....
"Uh Oh" said the cat looking forward...choking on it's cigar.
* * *
The old trucker hated being up this early.  He normally didn't get up until AFTER sunrise.  But "they" were screaming at him to get the load delivered.  Seems a mine ahead there in Nevada had it's panties all in a twist about needing another excavator.  If they'd needed it that bad they should have shipped it sooner.
The old trucker was miffed.  He HATED bootlegging a load.  The downside was just too great.  He'd been forced to go against his instincts on this load.  He'd run after dark and started before daylight...like today.  The mine REALLY wanted this excavator and he was trying his best to get it to them.
Bubba and LeRoy...his cats...were smarter than he was...they were in the bunk asleep.
Glancing into his rear view mirror from time to time as he normally did the old truck noticed a speck far, far behind him.  Just about at the horizon.
The speck grew at fantastic speeds, growing enormous...........passing................
"Oh Shiiiii..........." the old driver said...clamping down on his ceegar and trying to edge his wide load over as far as he could so the frickin' idiot coming up behind could pass....
.....and a tunnel opened in front of them
......and the monster Leviathan whooshed into the gate at five hundred miles per hour
......and the heavy haul KenWorth was pretty much sucked in behind it....barely under control.
........and the gate shut soundlessly
........and all was quiet and serene as the sun rose upon the Great Basin.
Somewhere a chukar called to it's mate.
* * *
The driver of the ET truck looks into his version of a rear view mirror just as they clear the gate.
"Dammit-boy" he says

"I just know that I'm not going to like this"...says the cat....arching it's back and scratching the upholstery...."what?"
" We sucked the local yokel thru the gate with us"...said the Driver...
"hissssss"...said the cat.
"sigh....nothing for it....." moaned the driver...." we got to stop.....can't leave him here.  Not in THIS continuum...activate the gun-pod "....
"as if I wasn't already" growled the cat as it snuggled into it's seat and made adjustments to various devices...
The big truck...the ET...began to make a huge sweeping turn...slowing down as it did and returning to  the truck from the "other dimension"
While making the turn and proceeding with all due haste back to the earth truck the driver of the ET focused his forward vision plates on the earth truck...and  zoomed in on the scene...what he saw filled him with dismay...
"oh shit..." mumbled the driver..."already...I'd hoped we'd have had more time".
....and rather than continuing to slow down he speeded up.
"Get ready cat...this is going to be tricky"....
"rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr'...said the cat....snuggling into the harness..
* * *
"Damn lucky I drive slow"...thinks the old trucker as he fights the controls of his truck.  They'd just exited the portal into this.......place...and he was having a very difficult time keep it upright.  He was braking as fast as he could and fighting a jackknife...
He almost made it.  Damn ditch.  What was a ditch doing out here?  The right trailer tires dropped into the unwelcome depression which caused the rig to tilt to the right.  That wouldn't have been too bad but for the fact that the ditch led into a LARGER ditch...which just continued the tipping movement.
In other words the truck rolled.
In slow motion...the trailer rolled over, and over...pulling the truck with it.  For a while there they were sliding along.  The left wheels of the truck were in the air...the trailer was tilted even further...and they slowing to a stop...but nature wasn't helping any....another hole in the ground appeared in just the wrong place and the trailer continued it's roll....twisting even further.
The kingpin could only take so much.  With an explosive "pop" and it broke and  ripped free from the fifth wheel.  The airlines and electrical lines immediately stretched past the breaking point and snapped.  Backlash imparted recoil to the truck caused it to flip BACK into the upright position even as the trailer continued to roll...and roll.  Losing pieces as it rolled down the hill.
Eventually the truck plowed to an abrupt stop into a mound of sand while yards away the trailer finally quit rolling.  Amazingly enough, to those who didn't know the old trucker, it's load was still chained securely to the bed of the trailer.  Ragged, bent up, broken , missing pieces and leaking hydraulic fluid..but still attached to the trailer.

"Well SHIT!"  growled the trucker as he finally settled down after being bounced around like a bb in a can....."Spilt my damn coffee!!"

The trucker somehow managed to find and light a ceegar...he looked out the front of the truck thru where there once had been a windshield.
"oh no" he said reaching for his Glock...' this is turning out to be a really bad day".
The two cats...Bubba and LeRoy....released their death grip on the upholstery and emitted terrifying battle screams.  Claws out...fangs bared.
Over the hood crept horrors...
..........spiders.  Many, many spiders.  Big suckers too.  Some were a yard across...most however where a third that size. The trucker punched the lights out of various spiders with his Glock.  He wasn't supposed to have a weapon onboard his truck..much less a pistol...but then he wasn't supposed to do a lot of things.
He continued to fire, managing to keep most of the big ones away.  One shot to center of mass and they kind of exploded...the range wasn't much.  He was in  the driver's seat and they were trying to get into the truck by crawling over the hood....thru the busted windshield.  Amazingly enough both side windows were intact.
Some of the smaller spiders , for some....really damn big...values of small...had managed to evade his fire.  Bubba and LeRoy however were on the scene...almost as if they had been trained.  Cat Claws and teeth could dispatch the one pound pseudo arachnoids quite adeptly.  For never having left the truck in their lives the two cats were doing quite well.
For a while there it was a stalemate.  Big spiders would come into view over the hood of the truck and suffer the same fate a watermelon would when hit by a high powered bullet.  Some of the smaller spiders evaded the gunfire and entered the truck....to be rendered by the cats.  Unfortunately there were a LOT of spiders.  One of the spiders evaded both the gunfire and the cats and slashed the drivers leg.  This tended to degrade his accuracy and more spiders got by...and more.  Shooting at targets inside the truck wasn't productive but he had a hammer under his seat.  The hammer very satisfyingly squished the little ones and didn't do the big one's any good either.
But there were a LOT of spiders....
* * *
The ET truck was still moving very rapidly when it's pulse gunn began to fire.  The cat was locked in on the spider like creatures which were attacking the trucker.
From the truck came a slow, methodical "bang.....bang....bang..." but then it quit. Cat Battle Screams from inside the truck were growing weaker as were the obscene bellows from the trucker....liquids of various consistency and colors were splattered on the inside of the side windows and dripping off the hood.
The driver's door popped open and the driver rolled out of his seat and fell to the sand.  He had two cats on his back protecting his get-away.  The interior of the truck was painted with spider ichor.  Spider ichor flowed from the open door and dripped down the sides....it must have been inches deep in the cab.
The driver was severely injured as were the cats....he couldn't walk and neither could they.  He drug himself, and them out into the open. It wasn't the best of defensive positions...in fact it sucked...but it was what he had.
He and the cats , facing three directions now, couldn't be snuck up on and they had room to move.  Such had not been the case in the cab of the truck.  They all three settled down to business.  Approaching spiders got shot if they were big enough...smashed with the four pound baby sledge or slashed and ripped by the cats.
A good time was being had by all but the Trucker and the cats were getting weaker.  They were bleeding out and there were still a LOT of spiders. They never even noticed the ET.
It was getting dark.  The driver couldn't see too well.  LeRoy was in his lap not moving and Bubba was hanging across his shoulder.  And ANOTHER spider leapt...and got the baby sledge between the mandibles...(squish)...and ANOTHER spider leapt...and got a 9mm bullet thru the center of mass for it's trouble...

A spider jumped on his back...and bubba used his remaining strength of bite, slash and claw the spider...
It was getting dark...
....and cold.....
The old driver swung one more time...smashed a leaping spider to mush...and collapsed....Bubba drug himself over to "his" human bared his teeth..and proceed to take on all comers...
No one noticed the crackling sound as the ET slid to a stop not yards away....it's pulse guns were firing continuously...and the remaining spiders were popping like soap bubble landing on grass....
The ET slid to a stop and a monstrous form emerged, followed by a small white cat with an eyepatch.. the duo walked over to where the old man lay. One cat, the siamese,  was beside him, dead or unconscious...the Black one...torn to doll rags...was on his back.
Bubba faced the new "threat" and hissed....
* * *
The old trucker put his cigar down and stood up politely as GOD walked into the room.
Not God actually.  But if Charleton Heston made a good Moses this guy made a damn good God.
"Well son" said the pseudo deity..." it's a fine mess you got yourself into".
"Reckon so" said the old man.  " Last thing I remember I was dying"
"Me too" said Bubba the black cat.
"Me too" said LeRoy, the siamese.
"God" smiled.  "Well let me give you the executive summary...then we'll see what we can do".
It turned out to be a pretty good deal.  The old trucker's last stand against the spiders had been 'filmed' by the ET truck coming to the rescue....then put on the "indie" market.  That kind of thing seemed to be fairly popular right now and it brought in a remarkable amount of money.  Since the old trucker and his cats had been "involved" , so to speak, they got a share of the revenue.  Pretty big share.  Huge even.
The ET and his cat were long gone...they had deadlines to meet. They'd scooped up  the ragged, mostly dead human and his two feline companions  and popped them into, for lack of a better word, the freezer.  There they had "kept" until the ET truck had reached "civilization"   They had then dropped off the old trucker and HIS cats at the local equivalent of an animal shelter.
The vet at the "animal shelter" had done a little tinkering and the human and two felines were good as new.  Actually, as they were learning...they were much, much BETTER than new. How MUCH better was going to take some getting used to.
"So that's how it is" said GOD....  the avatar of the General Omniscient Device that stayed in the basement where it was cool....
"You're a free agent.  And you have some income...what you do next is up to you."

short story from the Flood Time Chronicles: Day of the Hydra

Day of the Hydra

Lyn WickLund was a hundred and five years old. So was her husband Tom come to think.  Hell her children were over fifty.  How had that happened? Then again perhaps she was a hundred and ten. That was even worse.

At this point what difference did it make?  

She thought about that for a minute then chuckled.  Had she really thought that?  She hadn’t thought of THAT old hag in thirty years.  She’d thought THAT memory was purged.

<shudder>  

Guess not.  

That damn Texan.  If she ever saw him again she was going to…...she was going to…..

Well never mind what she was going to do. Right now she needed to find that diesel tank.  They were over Stagecoach Road.  Encana Oil & Gas should be down there somewhere.  Blue heron reservoir flooded and covered it up..but the fuel tanks should still be there. Even better, perhaps there was a tanker truck. Those were always nice.  Especially diesel.

She  was “en-gestalt” with Tom.  She could almost hear  him thinking.  He was laughing at her. could feel his laughter in the back ground.  Damn men were all alike.

Still ..it was nice to have them around for  the heavy lifting. Tom was piloting the The Pier Idiotic Table,what a name for a smokeship...but it kinda grew on you. It was actually kind of appropriate for a hydrocarbon salvage operation like they had.

Oil Suckers people called them.  Usually not to their face.

At any rate he put the ship right where it needed to be and she dropped the underwater drone.

Teleoperation was cool.  She never tired of it.  Especially since that damn texan had injected her involuntarily with neural interfaces. Of course they all would have likely died if he hadn’t but she was still annoyed.  Enough of that. She became the drone. She WAS the drone.  She dove through the water looking for an oil tank, a truck tanker or something.  They needed some more hydrocarbons.

Yet...her thought kept returning to the  day of the Hydra..

***

And the rain was on the earth forty days and forty nights.

She wished.  On that fateful day it had been raining non stop for six solid months.  More of a heavy mist or a light drizzle really.  Not actually rain, what they used to call a soaking rain, but it added up.  Everything was flooded.  No one knew exactly how much because all communications had gone haywire a month before the rain started.  No electricity either.  In the blink of an eye a hundred years of technology was rendered useless.  

Winter was coming and the drizzle would be turning to snow. They weren’t going to like that.

People had started to die like flies.  Those in the hospitals died first and then the old folks.  SOME of the old folks, some old folks were tough as boots...others just died.  It was heartbreaking.  The WickLund Clan had helped as many as they could.  Gawd knows they worked their heart out.  Some they saved... many they couldn’t.  People were so stupid sometimes.  Nowadays being stupid was lethal.

That day there was serious doubt if they would be able to save themselves.  She, Tom and the rest of the clan were on the roof of the office building at 825 Delaware Street.  It was the tallest building in town. From there they could see everywhere, and everywhere they looked they saw water.  All but the tallest buildings were underwater.  

They tried to stay up above the water because it was NASTY.  Here and there bloated bodies floated.  Many were human.  It stank.  It was better to be as high above the flood as they could get.  The WickLund Clan had helped hundreds if not thousands of their fellow citizens of Longmont to escape and yet  had somehow managed to get themselves trapped.  From the looks of it land was so far away  that even if they had a boat it wouldn’t help.

Unless it was a cabin cruiser.  Damn few of those left. Oh, there had been quite a few before the rain began.  Whole dealerships of the silly things.  The yuppies thought that they were status symbols or something.  In the early days many of those yuppies had loaded up and abandoned everyone else.

She wondered how far they got on one tank of fuel.

Some of them flew the coop immediately.  Others didn’t.  You had to give credit to those that had helped  to save their neighbors, unlike some of the preppers.  Some had tried TOO hard, got a case of the stoopids, overloaded their boats and sank.  They probably accounted for some of those floating bodies.

The smart ones just loaded up and floated.  They didn’t try to go anywhere.  Where would one go?  How far was the nearest land?  Which direction was the nearest land?  She suspect the whole world was flooding.  Where was Noah when you needed him? She’d never look at a rainbow the same way again.

Oh well.  It’d been a good life.

About that time Tom called her attention to a speck on the horizon.  It was coming from the south east.  Odd thing. It looked like a  vertical airplane wing towing a skier.  Very strange.  Only it wasn’t a skier.  It was some kind of metal thing ..in the water...but it  was throwing up quite the rooster tail.  It must be moving very fast.

It was.  The strange apparition approached faster than she thought possible for a sailing ship.  It WAS a sailing ship. It was a variation of a kite ship, except the kite was manned.  It sailed in the air.and drug it’s keel in the water at the end of a long cable.....there was no motor sound.  Damn thing was moving at two or three times wind speed. Once again like a kite board.  That was FAST considering how the wind could blow  on the front range.

She thought back on that day.

Damn Texan.  

He didn’t HAVE to do it that way. It didn't MATTER that he had to get to Idaho to pull  Chris Summercorn’s irons out of the fire and then on up to Calgary to help BigFoot., and then swing back down thru Minnie Snow Tah and the Midwest.  It seems that he had this thing about helping out Bar Flies.  

…..as if barflies weren't pretty damn good at helping themselves.

That was commendable but he could have at least stopped for some coffee. She remembered how well he liked coffee.

But no.  What’d he do?  He was in the gondola of that vertical planform airship.  A SmokeShip she later found that it was called.  Damn gondola looked like a PeterBilt.

A PeterBilt with a gattling gun.

Damn Texan didn’t even slow down as he skimmed by.  He waved...and shot at them with his gatling gun!!

Scared her to death!

He hit her too. Good thing he wasn’t shooting bullets.  He was using that gattling thing to launch snakey things.  Hydras.  Snakes with arms.  The damn things flew through the air and smacked her, her husband and a couple of more people  in the chest...and the arms grabbed them.  

She and them would be the first wind riders but….about that time she took a little nap.

When she woke up she knew what was going on, what HAD been going on, and what to do about it. She even had a plan. The hydras were field expedient neural interface injectors complete with memory diamond.  The body of the hydra was a High Definition Graphene 3D printer.  

Stuff hydrocarbon feedstock  in one end and it puked out what you wanted from the other end….simple. If you didn’t have hydrocarbon it could use CO2 from the air.  It just took longer.

The FIRST thing she had it print was food.

Yes food.  Being stranded on top of that damned building for a week with nothing to eat had given her an appetite. The Hydra  sucked CHON out of the air, added a few trace elements  and printed food. If it didn’t HAVE the right trace elements it’d spring into the water and get some.  That’s what the arms were for...and then it would RTB (return to base).  It’d print any kind of food that she wanted and it  was served...hot.

She had beeftips, with a french fries, butter, green beans and bacon strips. (it did better with long skinny stuff) The food was delicious. It tasted JUST like the real thing.  Maybe she wouldn’t kill that damn Texan after all.

After that they used the Hydra’s to extrude a Drag Keel Smoke Ship for themselves. Piece by piece. The thing went together like Lego’s.  It took weeks, but they got ‘er done.  They’d been living in it ever since.

In fact they’d formed a company.  The WikLund Wild Cats. Wild cats in the oil field sense.  They were PetroSalvagers. They searched for old petroleum storage tanks that had been drowned and used the hydrocarbons for feed stock. It served two purposes.  One, with the oil as feedstock they could  build anything. Two they prevented  or cleaned up pollution.

They pretty much had printed everything they wanted.  They had even printed  additional  printers.  With the new BlueTooth Feed from the G2BEC Wraiths they had print plans for damn near everything….except land.  They could print floating infrastructure though.   They had been very successful. Their Drift Clan was nearing the Dunbar limit.  It was about time to fission.

Damn Texan.  If she ever found him she was going to...going to..grrr...

She was a hundred and five?  Now how had THAT happened?  She looked and felt like a twenty year old.  Must have been something in that Hydra Bite.

Oops..enough day dreaming.  There’s the tank.  She maneuvered the drone up next to it and it stuck like a lamprey.  Then she sent down a hose.  The drone drilled through the tank walls and they sucked up a few hundred gallons of diesel. They were good to go.

Damn Texan… if she ever saw him again she was...she was..she was gonna…

grrrrrrr.


Flash Fiction: Bank Heist

Bank Heist
The gang was nervous as they prepared for their first robbery.  They were going to be RICH.  They were going to rob a BANK. After that, just like in the 'gangsta' movies they'd be rolling in dough.  All the chicks would spread for them and they'd be top dog.
Bruce had scored some guns.  His old man was a collector and had an arsenal.  He was never going back home so when he split he took some rods with him.   He wasn't real sure what they were but they were guns.  He even had some ammunition.  He wasn't clear as to what KIND of ammo it was but hey...if his old man  could figure it out how hard could it be?
Him and his bros were gonna score tonight.
They divided up the guns.  
"These got any ammo in em" asked Sheldon, always belligerent.
"You dummy" sneered Harry.."don't you know nothing?"
"I got these things here..."said Bishop, the one who had scored the guns.
He handed out some magazines.  They each took one and begin inserting them in the pistols...except for Bruce. Try as he would Bruce couldn't get the .45 magazine to fit in the 9mm automatic.
"Must be broke" he muttered
"You got another gun? " he whined. All the other homies held their new toys protectively....nope...he wasn't getting one of theirs.
"All I got left is this" sneered Bishop.  He held out a HUGE pistol.  It was a  single action, .50  casull  revolver.
"Well at least  it's loaded" said Bruce dubiously " I know all about that kind of gun, I saw it on dirty Harry."
Harry looked at Bruce's gun with envy..but didn't' say anything.
Bruce cocked the huge hog leg and stuck it inside his pants.  The weight of the monster gun made his pants sag...more.
" My old man really likes it, I made sure to take it.  Piss him off." Said Bishop"
Thus armed they wrapped towels around their heads like they'd seen their hero's on TV do.  They looked just like the Muslim BrotherHood now..or the Palestinians...or the Black Muslims...or something.  They weren't real clear on names. Actually they weren't real clear...at all.  Who cared?  Just details.
Bruce had a little trouble seeing...  he'd completely covered his face and eyes....he finally got that figured out.  The others followed Bruce's example and stuck their guns in their belts or pockets out of sight and casually walked up to the door of the bank.  Just as they stepped inside they pulled the towels over their faces...so no one could identify them.  All that was visible were their eyes.
Except Bruce...he covered his eyes ....again...he couldn't see.  He stumbled in next to Bishop.
"This is  a stick up.."  shouted Sheldon.  "Everyone freeze...er...everyone hit the deck,....er... I mean  Hands up!!"...
Everyone in the store fell to the floor.  It was the only prudent thing to do when  masked men were waving guns. Except for Bruce. Bruce wasn't waving his gun.   Bruce's gun had  snagged in his pants....he was trying to drag it out..
"Where's the money" screamed Sheldon.  This wasn't going quite right.  Something was wrong..
About that time the door opened behind Harry,  and Bruce yanked a little bit too hard on his gun.
BANG!
His cocked gun.    The .50 caliber cocked gun that was pointing at his cock about thern... went off.  Bruce lost what little manhood he had that day, along with his life. He fell to the floor  screaming and squirting blood.
Harry, Sheldon, and Bishop, hearing the gunshot , seeing Bruce fall to the floor is a spray of red and seeing the door open...aimed their weapons at the intruder and opened fire...
Except for Sheldon...his gun was on safety.
Harry and Bishop  sprayed about thirty shots at the intruder...they must have hit him because red liquid squirted everywhere..
Out  of ammo except for Sheldon, they stood , open mouthed, guns pointed at the intruder. Sheldon's gun  was still on safety but he was squeezing the trigger as hard as he could.  
The intruder was not amused.  He was an armed guard for the armored car outside.  As a courtesy his company was delivering some food to the FOOD BANK.  He'd just had a case of ketchup shot up in his arms.  The ketchup was ruined, his uniform was ruined and so was his disposition.  None of the pistol bullets had hit him.
Three towel heads were pointing pistols at him.He was a sandbox vet and had been in this situation before….it was nothing new.  He reacted now as he had reacted then.
Decisively. Swiftly. Lethally.
He dropped the ruined case of ketchup.  Before it had even hit the ground the the pump shot gun that he carried on a one point combat sling...was on
target one..
Ka-chuk
BOOM!
target two.
Ka-chuk
BOOM!
Ka-chuk
BOOM!
….so quickly that the first ejected shell casing was JUST hitting the floor as the sound of the last shot rang out.
Sheldon's gun was still on safety. It would remain so.






 

Flash Fiction: As you sow, so shall you reap

As you sow, so shall you reap

Jay G. Rodriguez was a rebel.  He truly thought that information should be free.  To be free the pathways for info-flow had to be open, unblocked and also free.  Jay was working on that.


Jay came from a long line of farmers.  He lived in Kansas.  He was, naturally, interested in plants.  When he was younger he listened to the old folks debate the ‘horrors’ of GMO’s...while wearing cotton and eating steak.


Jay thought that was hypocritical to say the least.  Years later he decided to use genetic modification of plant so further his goal.

First he developed an ultralow powered  repeater.  It’s sole job was to receive radio which met certain criteria (internet protocol), amplify and retransmit


Then jay took the design and using dna as feed stock, embedded it in the seeds of a large number of plants, both weeds and crop plants.  Then he hijacked some birds to distribute.


After a few years there was a plant with J’s IB (internet booster) in it about every ten foot all over the continent.  Some places it was denser.  These modified plants were extremely hard to identify since they looked identical to all their Kindred except for that one tiny feature.


Information now had a pathway to freedom. The internet was now available, for free, from anywhere that could grow plants..


A short Story : Planetary Invasion.

Planetary Invasion

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Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of the cryo-chamber.  This was one of those days. The planetary assault ship had just exited the portal when...it noticed an object in it's path.  There would be a collision in microseconds...even for the lightning quick reactions of the navigation computers there was no way to avoid it.

This is known as  The Breaks of the Game tm.

Exiting a  hyperspace wormhole was done at extremely high speeds. .. perhaps not relativistic speeds but very high speeds none the less.

Exiting a wormhole near a planet isn’t the safest thing to do either.  However, being 'safe' and invading a planet don't go together in the same sentence.  Popping out of a wormhole “in-their-face” gave the planetary inhabits less warning.  Less warning meant  less chance of being blown to atoms

Didn’t help. They got blown to atoms anyway.

Oops..what were the odds?

The locals were just entering the atomic age and were still testing thermo-nukes in space.  As luck would have it the invader had exited the wormhole right in the path of  their latest test nuke….a big one.  There would be a very big bang...... in a very  few microseconds.

The Planetary invasion  insertion controller tried,it tried hard, to salvage the mission.  It failed.  Only one attack shuttle was ejected in time to survive the explosion and it didn’t escape unscathed.

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The nukes electromagnetic pulse wiped out it’s mission program kernel.  The cyborg attack units were unprogrammed.

There had been billions and billions of attack cyborgs on the assault ship.  In one eye watering flash the invasion was reduced  to mere  thousands on the single remaining, badly damaged, drop shuttle….and they were basically clueless.
When it rains it pours. The sole surviving attack craft neared the planetary surface and discovered the hard way that it was attempting to land in a war zone.  The hard way is to receive an artillery shell right up it's tail pipe.

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Ooops. Dumb luck.  What were the odds.

The war zone was over Israel. The Palestinians had been frisky lately.  In the last few hours all of Israel's neighbors had  sneak attacked.  The Israelis , unfazed, were calmly and efficiently kicking their ass.  The alien shuttle was just one more hinney that got spanked.

Nothing much survived of the drop shuttle.  The fireball of it’s destruction wasn't particularly noticed. It was  just another fireball among hundreds. Some junk fell out of the sky.  A few more pieces of burnt and twisted metal in the desert..

Only one tiny micro pod made it to the ground intact. It was all that was left  of the hundred giga-ton invasion craft with it's millions of drop shuttles and it's billions of attack cyborgs.  Only one cyborg survived.

Even that tiny pod was damaged. It landed on the roof of the hotel a little hard. It bounced ....did a two cushion bank shot  off the walls in a corner...rolled… bounced and landed in the cat’s water bowl….and splashed the cat in the face.  Precious had been daintily taking a drink.  She was annoyed.

The micro-attack-pod  was kinda bent.  The sole occupant of the attack craft managed, thru Herculean effort   to egress it's tiny  craft.   Precious helped  the tiny organism  get free.... then ate it.

Ooops. Dumb luck.  What were the odds.



***



The cat...a barn cat that had deigned to lower itself to family pet status,  delicately finished eating the small creature.  The cat then returned to what it had been doing earlier, before it had been so rudely interrupted while taking a drink.   

Sleeping.….and shedding hair.

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Over the course of time the cleaning staff removed all evidence of the attacker's existence.  It's small landing canister had, in fact, looked very similar to a crumpled tin foil candy wrapper.  Perhaps  from a chocolate carelessly dropped during a party. “Bahut daam ka” ,  the cat,  was known to collect “shineys”.

Inside the barn cat..  things were progressing according to plan.  Billions of  tiny , engineered biological robots were swarming the cat’s internal systems.  Millions ot the tiny nanobots were destroyed one way or another.  They met their doom by corrosive  stomach acid,  savage white blood cells, and the cat’s immune system in general. If it wasn’t one thing it was another, it took a toll.  

Some survived.

Enough survived.

The cat’s brain was altered.  It’s neurological network was modified...massively.  A cat has 300 million neurons in it’s brain.  The neurological cognitive restructure took quite some time.  While it was in progress the NRI (Non Resident Indian) family that Bahut daam ka owned had returned to India.  They had been to Israel to visit relatives. The mapping process was completed one night after they family returned to their home.  They lived on a large estate  owned by an ancient family.  Bahut daam ka was a part time house pet.  He  was in the stables  when the restructuring process was completed.

A cat has a cognitive network sufficient to allow the emergent property known as self awareness.  It should be a perfect host.

It wasn’t.

Epic Fail.

300 million neurons wasn't enough.

The cat’s neurological system was insufficient. Time for plan B.  The cat was now a ticking time bomb...neurologically speaking.  It was primed to attack the first creature larger than itself that it encountered.  The tactic being that a larger animal would have a larger brain.

“ If at first you don’t succeed, try try again”

A youngster picked it up………….




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I have been remiss...

at posting here.

Lots has happened.

I'm no longer a trucker.  I'm retired.  It got to be too much hassle and not enough money.  I bailed.  No fun anymore.

I'm a writer now.

Time will tell if I can SELL anything.  But I'm writing.

I'm also on Tsu 

I'm the boy on Tsu...How do you do.

Come visit.