Writing

0 comments on "Free-thought No Thought Off Head"

My brain is a formless nothing. A resounding rhapsody of the kinds of sound that would make someone hold their face and SCREAM.

From that nothingness, planets are formed. Swirling out of the greater void. Bathed in the twinkle of stars popping into existence one after another, like specks of ink on a page.

Drinking from the well of life. As something was birthed from nothing and All came into being.

Rasping breaths on a midnight silhouette shore. Drawing in every bit of air that could be breathed, tasting the unique flavor of a brand new world.

I had been trapped in nothing for so long, smited there by a vengeful god that I still hated with the deepest fire of my being.

My father. Rasmandius. The Demon King of the Greater Underworld. Lesser Prince of the Farthest Hell.

The cruel dictator of my imprisonment. The one that had sentenced me to the void for daring to defy him.

Yet here I am. Birthing myself anew from the nothingness, now that the very memory of my father is long gone.

"You did not win," I said, knowing that he was too far to ever hear, but needing to speak nonetheless. "I did not let you win."

I stand on the earth of a planet in a universe newly born, and I smile.

It is my time now.

/END

–

"Killing It" on Peacock: The first season ends on a cliffhanger!

If there’s one thing I wish American shows would do, it’s emulate Korean dramas in giving is the whole of everything at one time.

I want a show to wrap up the story. Make those 12 or 20 episodes, rather than feeding us little rabbit scraps and expecting us to be satisfied with less than we want.

But anyways, the first episode of "Killing It" was funny, which gave me a different impression of the show than it turned out to be.

That shit is heavy as fuck, yo.

I watched the whole first season because I’d already started it, and it’s a good show, though I need to have the complete thing, and I wish it wasn’t broken into seasons or whatever they’re going to do. I mean, for all I know they’re going to cancel the show and that first season is all there’s ever going to be.

For serious: From the first episode I was expecting (hoping for) a much lighter show than I got.

I was expecting him and her to pair up, and they would hunt a bunch of snakes, and they would win the competition and he would start his business and it would be a big success, flowers and butterflies, happy endings all around.

Instead it’s very bloody and tense. Definitely not the vibe I thought it was going to be at the end.

~Harper Kingsley
https://www.harperkingsley.net/blog
https://twitter.com/harperkingsley0
https://paypal.me/harperkingsley
https://kimichee.com.
https://patreon.com/harperkingsley.
https://ko-fi.com/harperwck.
https://amazon.com/shop/harperkingsley0.

0 comments on "Transhuman; Jupiter Ascending: post-dystopian consumerism"

“Transhuman or trans-human is the concept of an intermediary form between human and posthuman. In other words, a transhuman is a being that resembles a human in most respects but who has powers and abilities beyond those of standard humans. These abilities might include improved intelligence, awareness, strength, or durability. Transhumans sometimes appear in science-fiction as cyborgs or genetically-enhanced humans.” – Wikipedia.

I was looking up “Jupiter Ascending” to remind myself of a particular scene and was taken to the Wikipedia page. There I saw that the people out in the galaxy–the Exalted–were described as being transhuman. And it got me thinking. And writing.

NOTE: I realize that many have found fault with the movie “Jupiter Ascending”, but I don’t care. That was space opera crack at its most over-indulgent and I could happily do with another dose. Plus the fanfic it has produced … Mwah! Divine. How could I hate on source material that has inspired so many great stories to read?

*

I read that the rise of post-apocalyptic fiction is a sign of dissatisfaction in the general population. By choosing the books and media they do, the younger generation is expressing cynicism and fear of the future.

From a naively hopeful view of the future where humans are zooming amongst the stars and colonizing new planets, stories have taken on a grim view of intergalactic battles and the forced extinction of the human race. And back home on Earth, instead of the vaulted spires of a utopian society, everything has turned to disaster having overfallen the world and a struggling society attempting to rebuild something amongst the ruins of our modern cities.

No longer do protagonists and antagonists banter and bumble their way through the apocalypse. Now it is a foregone conclusion that our world will end.

There is nothing to stop. Nothing to struggle against. Disaster has already happened.

To the people of those future visions, we are nothing less than rumors. Everything that we’ve built has already faded away.

And even then, with the world ruined and humanity struggling to stay alive, there is always a group of people with all of the resources and technology, lording it over like gods above the rest.

These stories present no real answers. Because in the end, the message is that there’s nothing you can do to stop the terrible future to come.

You should huddle down and close your eyes. Go quiet and small and survive. Because there’s nothing you can do to make the world a better place. It’s going to be your grandchild’s responsibility to scream defiance at the ultra-modern nobility.

Presented with such a pessimestic outlook, is it no wonder that people are beginning to feel hopeless about the future? Children are growing up with the belief that no matter what they do, it means nothing. Because the end is nigh and their story isn’t the important one. They should set aside their personal goals and focus on the creation of some grand Ubermensch.

Meanwhile, right now is when people should show their defiance. Right now is when people need to stand up, point out the injustices, and ROAR “That’s not right!”

And instead, I hear people say “I should buy some guns”, as though that’s the answer to every problem.

Don’t write petitions. Don’t chastise government officials into doing a better job.

Buy guns. Stockpile food. Be ready to flee into the wilds.

Somehow we’ve gotten the idea that everything is destined to fall apart. And the problem with “destiny” is that it cannot be changed. It can only be endured.

Destiny is a surrender to helplessness. It is someone brushing their hands off and leaving the problem solving to somebody else.

And when you feel helpless, you close your eyes and ears to the plights of people around you. Because their problems are their own and you don’t want to get involved.

But that’s all we need to do to save the environment and the human species: get involved.

Learn how to roar when it’s needed, and talk when it’s not. Research sustainability and environmental protection. Learn the reasons why people are so unhappy and what they need to succeed.

Because if we help each other, we help ourselves.

0 comments on "Sometimes I receive inpiration from television"

ARCHER => S1 E8. “The Rock.” Sterling and Lana are out on a mission and things go pear-shaped.

The tech team is busy with their own issues and not offering the support necessary. As a result, the agents are left to hang for a while, depending on intel that’s going sourer by the moment.

* * *

Ah, the joys of working for a Company with a small Operations budget, Opal sighed.

She was hanging from a paracord rope she’d woven herself. The carabiners and gloves were new, but the rest of her gear was stuff she’d cobbled together on the fly.

The woman she was facing was neatly pressed and poised. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a military supply catalogue, all black leather and web belts. She looked professional and ultra-competent at her job. She was intimidating.

“I think you’re going to hand me that sapphire,” the taller woman said. Her gun was unwavering in her left hand.

“You’d really shoot a stranger in the face over a rock?” Opal demanded, all hurt feelings and accusation.

“You’d let a stranger shoot you in the face?” The woman cocked one eyebrow. “I think that says more about you than it does about me. Now do what I say and roll that sapphire my way.”

Staring down the barrel of the gun, Opal wore her most fearless expression. “My boss is going to hate me, thanks-a-freaking-lot, the least you can do is aim that at my forehead. I’d rather they need to use some skull putty rather than a whole reassembly kit. I was promised a Viking funeral when I die and I want to look beautiful for me mother. You know how it is. I’ve spent my whole life running away from dresses, so I owe it to Mummy to be the little girl she always wanted.”

As she spoke, Opal crouched with the giant sapphire in her left hand, poised to roll it skeeball-style. She drew her arm back, but at the last moment she spun her whole body around on the toe plate in her right boot.

It was a little harrowing to have shots pass so close to her head, but she didn’t let herself hesitate.

The rope was a hindrance as she dodged to the right, but she was going to need it to get back up to the roof. She shoved the sapphire into her hip pouch, trusting that the velcro would seal it up safe as she slammed her hands flat on the floor and began spinning her legs as fast as she could around the rope, winding it around her thighs.

She huffed out a breath as she shoved off the floor, reaching up to grab the rope and pull herself up higher and faster. It wasn’t graceful or lovely–nothing like the rope dancing at the class she’d taken–but it was enough to get her up to the hole she’d burned into the ceiling. Bullets pinged against the rafters and she yelped when a graze dug a furrow against her right side.

Opal clambered out of the hole faster than she’d gone down, log rolling across the asphalt of the rooftop toward the anchoring spike she’d used to attach her rope. She tried to stand up and almost fell over, the rope tightly tangled around her legs and hips.

“Shit.” She fumbled the knife out of her sleeve and began sawing through the paracord. She needed to get her ass out of here before Miss Brown-Eyes decided to shoot her in the face gangland style.

/END EXCERPT

 

2 comments on "“Oh man, I can’t make no Medicare co-payment…”"

FUTURAMA (the episode where the Professor takes up Dimensional Drifting. Which, by the way, could be an awesome concept if done correctly. See bottom for more detail.) — So while he’s zooming off and racing, why not just turn around and go home? Is that guy going to be able to chase you down to where you live?

Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift — I heard that Japanese police won’t chase you down when you’re racing, they’ll just take pictures and show up at your house the next day. Those cars drive so fast that it’s a worse danger chasing them down.

RANDOM THOUGHT: I would hate driving around in the future equivalent of a family van. I’d prefer the shady lifestyle of Firefly with a tad less danger. Just tooling around the galaxy in my spaceship enjoying myself, then coming home to a normal house.

*

PROMPT: MC’s younger brother is into speed racing, and MC lets Brother soup up his vehicle. Then later when the action happens, he’s able to pull out the speed stops and break out of danger.

– MC is a normal guy that finds himself in extraordinary circumstances, and he shows a remarkable competence.

—

Yesterday he was sitting around his house watching the clock, waiting for his favorite show to start. Today he was in a desperate race to save his own life.

Thank God Maxie was such a gear head.

Rey had felt like disaster could strike at any moment, but he’d let Maxie work on his car. The kid had babbled for days about different adjustments he wanted to make on Rey’s Mock Faive. He’d been so excited that Rey couldn’t say no.

And now, because of Maxie’s upgrade, the Mock Faive — which had started out as a standard model with floor mats as the only luxury — was outrunning the squad of Law Officers that were screaming after him down the highway, their lights flashing farther and farther away in his rearview mirror.

“How the fuck is this happening?!” Tiny yelled from the passenger seat.

“Thank Maximilian. He gave the old Mock Faive a work over.” Rey neatly shifted and slid across the lane as smooth as he’d always dreamed of driving — it made him glance at his speedometer, his lips twitching as he held back an exuberant grin.

Sure, the cops were probably going to be waiting at his place to impound his car and ship him off to jail, but he couldn’t even care at this point. He was having the greatest adventure of his life, and he’d always promised himself (while watching movies, dreaming that he was Action Guy instead of Stable and Dependable Guy) that if he ever found himself in an adventure situation he would live the moment to the fullest.

He just prayed he didn’t end up sent to actual prison at the end of the night. A few days in jail was one thing. Something going onto his permanent record was something else.

There was a pained moan from the backseat. He risked a peek in the rear view mirror and saw the girl’s sweaty, pained face in the mirror. She was curled around her brother/boyfriend/dirty age-mate friend with her fingers digging into his jean-clad leg with desperate strength. Her dark brown hair hung in straggles against her face, sticking to her bloody, tooth-ripped lips as they opened in panting cries.

Her stomach was huge! Rey thought he glimpsed a ripple passing under the taut green tee shirt. That baby was about to pop.

“Where do I go?” he asked, taking a quick Exit in the hopes of avoiding drone coverage. If he were lucky, they’d amass along the highway routes, and he’d be able to slip past the whole mess before they realized he’d left the main road for a while.

“I don’t know,” the boy’s voice was painfully young and terrified. It made something ache in Rey’s chest — which was strange, since he’d never been the kind to care much for the woes of other people. The only ones he was warm to were members of his own family. Yet here he was risking imprisonment and Forced Re-Conditioning for a couple of runaway teenagers that had babbled some crazy story at him when he’d pulled over to check on them.

The boy’s rambling story, spoken much too fast to completely comprehend, had probably been lies, though he’d sensed enough from them both to know they were in bad trouble. They were on the run, chased by dangerous people that wanted the girl and her baby. That was all Rey needed to know, especially when he’d gotten a good look at the girl and seen how beat up she was.

Both of the kids were showing wounds on the exposed portions of their skin. It was mostly bruises on their faces, minor but painful looking marks, but there were cuts on their arms and hands as well as mysterious dark patches on their clothes. He only had to look in their eyes to see that they were in desperate need of saving.

It had been a no-brainer to let them in his car and start driving. Though he’d been terrified when those Company goons showed up and tried to run them off the road. It had only gotten worse when they’d pulled out an armory’s worth of weapons.

He’d never seen himself as a wheel man, but he’d outrun those Company cruisers and the Law Officers as well. It was kind of exciting.

“Seriously, where are we taking you guys?” he asked. “Because Tiny and I cannot get any more involved with your situation. Sorry, but we have families and lives.” “We… Can you take us to Bolston? Our uncle is waiting for us,” the boy said.

“Bolston, huh?” Rey looked at his gauge, checking to see that he had enough fuel to make it. He was glad to see that he had more than enough. “Yeah, we can drop you off.”

“Thank you,” the boy said. “Thank you so much for…” “Stop it. You’re making me uncomfortable. Let me just get you to Bolston.” Rey quickly put the commands into his Navi and the console began clearly stating directions. “It’s going to be forty-five minutes. How’s the girl doing?”

“Sha–“

“Ah, ah, ah, I don’t want to know any names!” Tiny shouted, covering his ears with his fingers.

“… She’s going to be okay. The baby wants to come, but I think we’re going to make it to our uncle before it starts really happening.”

“Good.” Rey focused on driving, switching on the music to drown out the girl’s loud pained breathing and whimpers. There was nothing he could do for her, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted from his driving.

Once he was sure they were far enough away from the Law Officers, he slowed down to regulation speed and hit the Camo Function on his dashboard. The color of the car didn’t really change, it was just a slight shifting of the armor scales that would make the paint shimmer a different hue, but he thought it would help. His car was no longer moving at blurring speed and the color would seem more plum than dark maroon. To the average eye witness, his car would probably be seen as a near navy blue.

Rey was beginning to enjoy the drive ahead. Though he couldn’t help some slight worries about his upholstery even with the towels he’d given the kids. It made him feel petty to be concerned about his car interior when people had tried to kill them, but a good detailing would put him over his monthly budget.

Shifting gears, he focused on the road spread out through his windshield. There were the lights of a town approaching, but they’d be able to drive right passed it. If things went right, they’d reach Bolston before 9 p.m.

Rey shifted his hands on the steering wheel and mouthed the words of the song playing through the stereo. It was something so normal that it relaxed some of his nerves. He was able to believe that everything was going to be all right.

All he needed to do was drive.

Rey = Reynaldo
Maxie = Maximilian