Dibble's Nibbles

Jelly Belly Chocolate Dips

2012-01-25T14:29:00.000-08:00

I ate the whole box. Like a boss. I probably shouldn't have...

Why does money exist?

2012-01-25T07:41:00.000-08:00

Money exists for a reason. It wasn't a creation of the wealthy to control the poor, as many people seem to think of it as. It wasn't created by governments, either. No, money was created by ancient men and women for the reason of trade. This is a discussion of the concept of money, not the history.

You see, the most basic concept of a trade is to trade one thing or service for another thing or service. For example, if you wanted to get some eggs from Farmer Brown, you'd have to bring something to trade to him. To trade with him, you needed something of value to him. Something he either could use, or simply wanted. He probably wouldn't need a boat, so you wouldn't bring that. But he might need a plow. The question is, how many eggs is the plow worth? You and him would have to work out an equivalency rate in goods to complete the trade. Or you might help him plow his field.

However, three months later, Farmer Brown is done farming. He DOES want a boat, though. If he were to trade away 4,000 eggs for equivalent goods, he could feasibly afford one. Logically, that means he should be able to give the boat builder 4,000 eggs. But what would that builder do with them before they went bad? What if the boat builder simply wanted something of value he could keep and store, and Brown couldn't get it for the eggs? Enter money. Brown can sell the eggs for the equivalent in money, and use that money to purchase his boat.

Finally, let's say you were that person wanting eggs from him. You have nothing of value for him in material goods. You can, however, reap a mean crop of wheat. Between the two of you, you work out how much this task is worth to Brown. He gives you the eggs you need when you finish, in exchange for your labor. This is also trade. If money were involved, he'd give you that instead. In both cases, you are being compensated for your time and services, or paid. Its similar to when I fix a friend's computer for them, and they pay me with dinner.

Money is nothing more than a medium by which trade is conducted, and people are compensated for their time and services. It eased the move of goods and services through the world by leaps and bounds, and for awhile, each piece of money was usually worth the material it was printed on. That value was determined by how much work was required to produce that bit of money. Now, in a free market, the likes of which didn't really exist for a long time, the flow of money is constant, from one place to another. Market values, availability, and other factors define how much a currency is worth, and how much it is worth against foreign currencies. Value is defined by how much people want it and how much is available, and that sets it against money. Some people do overcharge, but that's part of the system. Free markets require free trade, which really demands the existence of money. And in the end, it allows free speech, freedom of expression, and things like that. But I digress.

Money is based on a theory of value. To eliminate money is to attempt to eliminate a simple concept of value. To eliminate the concept of value of entirely is to eliminate free trade. To eliminate free trade is to return us to the days of tribalism and serfdom. This, in turn, eliminates division of labor. Ludwig von Mises explores this extensively in his economics works. Our society is entirely dependent on division of labor. Our computers, websites, cars, food, and other items we buy at the store require it. To eliminate division of labor is to eliminate modern society. Money is one of the core founding concepts of this. Otherwise, how do you determine how much the work of a carpenter is worth against the work of the welder when you're building a building? Or the electrician? You can pay them in meals and housing, but historically, this was tantamount to (or usually became) indentured servitude and slavery, and only one of these allowed the subject to escape (and still paid him). Or you can return to self-sufficient farms and tribes, but even then, while everybody is economically equal, you're now subject to those who simply are more popular, have more power, or are stronger than you, like tribal chiefs. Or bigger tribes.

Money is essential to a free world. To eliminate money is to attempt a return to the dark ages of history where warlords and despots ruled the people with total power.

SOPA, PIPA, and the fact that it's a logical conclusion

2012-01-18T17:52:00.000-08:00

Sooner or later, SOPA/PIPA are going to be brought into effect in the United States, if not worldwide. Well, relatives of them are. You see, they are the end results of two runaway trains that started long ago (and the DMCA didn't help it at all) and both are likely going to crash soon.

The first train was special favors from the government. The minute one group of individuals or corporations gains special permissions and laws (copyright holders, in this case, and with the DMCA) or realize they can through lobbying, democracy has become unbalanced and is on its route to being undone. SOPA and PIPA are not just results of corporate greed, they are the result of a lack of regulation of government. Under normal (and under an ideal Libertarian government) law, a copyright holder has no recourse other than the legal court of law to prosecute copyright infringement. They gain no special rules or permissions beyond what any person would normally have. This is how it should be, with everybody upon equal legal footing. However, the United States government (and many others worldwide) are in the habit of granting special breaks and favors to particular industries, companies, and groups. The RIAA and MPAA know this, and have taken advantage of this in the past. They are taking advantage of it now, to gain extra-legal powers that are unconstitutional and very similar to the powers of a bully on a school playground. Because there is no longer a limitation on government power (and there hasn't been one in awhile, despite the Constitution limiting many powers), they realized if you grease the right palm, you can get all sorts of goodies. Amongst these goodies are things like the ability to block and censor websites. Really, it's the logical conclusion of ANY system that grants special favors and rules. Those with the most resources and money will, in the end, control your life.

The second train is that of any government with far-reaching powers. A government is a figure of coercion. This fact cannot be denied. When a government begins to gain more and more power, it will need tools to hold onto that power. It cannot, by definition, allow anybody to defy its will. If it did so, the government would reveal that its power is limited. Once you realize this, you realize that censorship is the logical extension of this. The easiest way to quell dissent and defiance among a population is to limit their ability to communicate ideas, information, and thoughts. SOPA/PIPA are only one step on what I firmly believe is now a very short road to outright internet censorship in a country where television and radio censorship are already the norm. Print censorship is also something that is still practiced by many governments here. This is only one step from the internet joining the other industries in being blocked and censored.

Stopping SOPA and PIPA from passing are only really the first step. Bringing the population out of a state of denial and illusion is what really needs to happen, as denying the nature of government and the policies they have sought after isn't fixing it.

Stop SOPA and PIPA now

2012-01-17T21:18:00.001-08:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:SOPA_initiative/Take_action
Stop SOPA and PIPA. Contact your representatives if you live in the U.S.

NDAA

2011-12-04T17:15:00.000-08:00

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/11/29/senate-votes-to-let-military-detain-americans-indefinitely_n_1119473.html

This bill was created by a secret committe starring both Republicans and Democrats. All I can say is, I will not change what I say for the sake of a law. And if this law is carried out to its logical conclusion, so be it. It will not change what I say or do. It is the logical conclusion of the laws and mandates we now pass. America, you have brought this on yourself. Your civil rights no longer exist.

Dominant Species

2011-11-24T09:00:00.000-08:00

"Dominant Species", by Michael E. Marks, is a $1.99 USD e-book available on Amazon's Kindle store. I recently finished reading Ludwig von Mises's "Socialism: An Economic and Sociological Analysis", and decided I wanted to move on to easier reading for a short bit. "Dominant Species" seemed a decent choice, for only $1.99.

First off, don't expect anything profound from this book. Don't expect anything spectacular, either. What you can expect, however, is a decent level of suspense with a slight air of unpredictability. The events build in a way that you can certainly begin guessing what each event's follower will become, but that doesn't stop it from becoming what I called a hybrid of the movies "Virus" and "Pandorum". This military science-fiction thriller is a fun ride through Marks's fantasy world he's created, and will not disappoint fans of the genre looking for a little action, some character development, and an often-used but still somewhat original plot.

Six Must-Have Android Apps

2011-11-22T09:05:00.000-08:00

There are few times I will tell someone that something is a 'must have'. However, if you own an Android phone (version 2.1 and above) or Android tablet (3.0 or above), these apps should be a must-have for you. The very first recommendation I have is ES File Explorer. This application is a powerful file/folder browser that allows you to open files, browse folders on the phone/tablet, and make changes (rename/copy/paste/delete functions). It is small, fast, and effective. I use it on both my LG Optimus V phone and Acer Iconia a500 tablet.

Second is the Advanced Task Killer.This app does have discrete apps, but it is free at the same time. It lets you kill certain apps quickly and effectively from the notification center- either all at once, or just one or two. Very handy, especially with its powerful exception-allowing features. Be sure to uncheck itself, or it'll self-kill. And uncheck any apps with running notifiers on them, as they'll stop checking (e.g. Facebook).

Third is ezPDF Reader. While it does cost a little pocket change, the ezPDF reader is a much faster PDF reader than most apps I've tried. It also works much more effectively than Adobe's PDF Reader they have, especially on Honeycomb (3.0+) tablets. I use it for any PDF files on both devices.

QuickPic is a relatively self-explanatory app. Alternative to the Gallery app that devices come with, is very fast and effective. Gets good color reproduction on the screen.

Finally, last but not least, are the Wi-Fi Finder and Wifi Analyzer apps. I'll explain the former first. Wi-Fi Finder is an app that, on pre-3.0 Android devices, allows you to search by zip code for nearby hotspots. This is not so useful with non-3G devices (such as 2.x-based tablets), but on a phone, can locate free wi-fi hotspots that are nearby. On 3.0 devices (a patch may have added this for pre-3.0), you can actually download an offline database that you can search on the go. Very useful if you need an internet connection. Wifi Analyzer shows all the networks in your area, the channel they are operating on, and signal strengths. It is free and powerful, and can even help you set up and optimize your home wifi signal so it is operating on channels that may not be as congested.

Enjoy!

Three Product Reviews

2011-11-15T13:44:00.000-08:00

I decided I'll review three products in one. The first, and simplest, is the widget for Android 3.1+ devices known as "WiFi High Performance Mode". Some of you who've seen me tinkering with my tablet lately have seen me get frustrated with its frequent wi-fi disconnects. I finally googled the issue, and pinpointed the problem. It wasn't my antenna, or even the tablet. Android 3.1+ and many 2.6+ devices added a power saving feature to power down the antenna when it was not in heavy use. Most routers cannot properly use this and lose connection frequently while the tablet is connected. Well, research turned up the free "WiFi High Performance Mode" widget. I installed it, turned it on, and promptly ran to another room to test it. I still lost connection once or twice, but that's probably due to the number of walls between myself and the router. However, it no longer disconnected every 3-5 seconds. Widget Rating: 10/10

Second is Asphalt 6 Adrenaline. I am a huge fan of the Burnout: Revenge and Burnout: Paradise City titles. Asphalt 6 is, in my opinion, a mobile version of Burnout. The key differences are graphics and the fact that the Asphalt titles use actual cars (such as one of my favorites, the Lamborghini Murciélago). It has a healthy selection of 42 cars and bikes, decent gameplay, and is fairly fast paced. The race tracks range from exotic to mundane, with difficulties from absurdly easy to fairly challenging (the Shanghai and New York maps come to mind). The take downs and AI need some work, as you are almost always the winner if you collide with another car- even if its in a way that would normally result in them being taken down, except against you. However, it was an enjoyable set of hours I spent playing. Cars range from the Mini Cooper S to the Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport. In addition, it looks excellent on my tablet's 10.1" 1280x800 screen. Amusing note- Gameloft's site lets me install it, but the Android Market claims its incompatible. Game Rating: 9/10

And finally, my LG Optimus V. I recently made the purchase of one from Virgin Mobile USA. While its processor is only 600MHz, vs the Samsung Intercept's 800MHz (the OS on the Intercept is now, for the record, 2.2), it also sports a 400MHz graphics processor. The Optimus has a superior display resolution (and some sources claim color quality, too). The Optimus also has 512MB of RAM, against the Intercept's 256MB. Both are, for the record, nearly the same price. Overall, the phone is pretty nice. It isn't perfect by any means, nor is it supposed to compete with other phones, such as the Motorola Triumph and Samsung Transform. It runs Pandora fairly well, as does most other apps. Keep in mind that this is my first smartphone. Battery life is average, for what it is. Call quality with the Optimus V is a level above my old phone's, the Samsung Intensity, even if the network isn't as good. Low-End Android Phone Rating: 7/10 (pre-rooting)

Now, this part is my personal action and not my endorsement in any way, as it voids your warranty and can 'brick' your device. I rooted my Optimus V using GingerBreak 1.2 while it was charging. To 'root' an Android device is to gain root/superuser access, which is the administration account required for system changes on Linux-based systems. After a painfully long reboot process (which only happened once), I checked to make sure the Superuser app was installed (packaged with GingerBreak). Titanium Backup was next- the phone is much friendlier after I removed most of Virgin's built-in software with it, and backed up all the apps (including the ones I removed). In fact, it freed up roughly 25 megabytes of space on the phone. The removed applications, for any people who want to know, will follow this paragraph. At any rate, it works nicely with the Barnacle WiFi Tether and ES File Explorer apps, both of which can use root/superuser permissions. Take note that you must use Barnacle's "Skip wpa_supplicant" in order for it to work on this phone. It also lets me take screenshots. Low-End Android Phone Rating: 9/10 (post-rooting)

EDIT: Removed Applications:
airG Chat 1.0
com.lge.ers
Downloads 2.0.1
News & Weather 1.3.03
Poynt 1.3.8
SCNVNGR 3.5.7.SPR
SSA 1.0.27
UberSocial 7.2.1
Virgin Mobile Live 1.0
WHERE 3.0.4
Home screen tips 1.0

The Philosophy of Guilt

2011-11-09T07:08:00.000-08:00

Nobody likes to feel guilty. I could cite a few research projects done into the matter, pull a book or two about guilt, or just point to the obvious that anybody with a basic understanding of humans and how they function would know. This makes guilt one of the most powerful emotional weapons available, especially in the hands of a skilled sophist. It is also arguably the most widely used weapon of that type in this day and age. But what makes it a weapon, exactly? Several things.

Use of guilt as a weapon is no new occurence. Many religions (most prominently Christianity) have used it as a driving force of their faith. The core tenet of Christianity is that we are born into sin and are ascribing to be Christlike and free of sin. It is the most predominant religion in the first world countries, in the United States, and in many European countries. But why am I noting this in a post on the philosophy of guilt? Because it is a religion that gives man an impossible ideal, and preaches that he should feel guilty and humble for his entire life that he cannot attain it. It gives an ideal state that one can only reach in death, and the renouncement of many of the benefits of being alive. Until the last few centuries, the Christian church was easily one of the most powerful forces in the entire world. Its rule was dictated by fear, and guilt. If you were not a devout Christian and a member of the Church for entire centuries of the world's history, you were a horrible human being undeserving of life. How did the Church encourage you to stop feeling guilty? Give your time and life to the Church and to God. And those that disagreed or were positioned to weaken its power were summarily removed from society by excommunication or execution in witch burnings. How convenient. Christianity, it is worth noting, is not the only religion that used this tactic. Many did, some moreso than others.

That hasn't changed much today, even if a lot of the pressure is no longer from religion. Today, there's a new type of guilt. The guilt of being successful and not starving. When you watch TV, there are television stories abound about how evil it is not to give to others if you have more than them. When you listen to music or artists, they sing or tell you about all the people who have less than you. Parents tell their kids that "starving kids in Africa would kill for this food" on a regular basis. If you are not giving your free time and money to others, you are immoral. If you think of yourself, you are immoral. If you are rich or wealthy, you are immoral and a thief by default.

No matter what, you are immoral and should feel guilty. If you're smarter than someone, better looking than someone, better at chess than someone else, you should feel guilty for showing it and be modest (I'm not advocating for being a jerk about your superiority at a particular thing) about it- its immoral to show off. I'll put here in blunt terms what communists and socialists won't, because they refuse to face what the ultimate end of their philosophies dictate. What we set as moral, in short, is a person who thinks nothing of themselves, strives to be the same as everybody else, and has nothing more than anybody else. If you do not fit the above, you are guilty.

But wait. NOBODY is the same as anybody else, regardless of situation. Nobody has the exact same amount of wealth as anybody else. Furthering this, let's suppose that everybody fit the wealth requirement. That's still not taking into account that some will be harder workers than others. So the harder workers will be expected to feel guilty, and to repent for this by working harder for other people. And finally, no living human can NOT think of themselves. Setting things like this as a moral standard sets up the population who falls for it for a horrible existance spent in guilt. And guilty people don't like feeling guilty- demagogues and politicians know this. Its only a short leap from here to convincing the people that they are in the wrong for simply existing, and that the only way to repent and not be guilty is to give your life for society.

If we had followed these core morals from the start, the human race would never have attained the point it did today. We would have stoned the Carnegies, Rockefellers, and Vanderbilts before they got anywhere. But wait, we DO stone them today. Their images, great heroes of the American dream that brought us affordable trains, cheaper fuel, gas, and oil, and affordable high quality steal are tarnished by claims that they were exploiters, thieves, and robber-barons. Expounders of the philosophy of guilt will never admit that the end result of their philosophy is to dispose of these industrial heroes, of our Ralph Lauren's, John Paul DeJoria's, and Richard Brannson's, and return to a tribal way of life. It is the only logical conclusion and way to follow such a moral code to its core. But to admit this requires them to renounce all the nice things that made their conclusions possible to begin with, and all the results of self interest that they used to write these down. Like the printing press, computers, etc. It doesn't stop them from controlling the population via guilt, however.

I've seen these commercials on TV more and more, lately, where some celebrity or other person is in a poor province of Africa, India, or another country that is not yet industrialized. They talk about how horrible the life of those children are. The spokesman or spokeswoman claims you should empathize with these children, but that's not their actual goal. Their actual goal is to make you feel guilty of having more, so that you give your money to the organization in question. The amount of money that ever actually reaches those children is irrelevant- it is enough for this particular discussion that they use guilt tactics.

The logical end of a philosophy and lifestyle built on guilt like ours is that we feel guilty for existing. A prime example would be the Islamic men and women who feel that, because they share their religion and beliefs with Osama bin Laden and other radicals and terrorists, they should have to give up their freedoms as a human being as well. They feel so guilty for the actions of others that they justify the fact that government and airlines force them to submit to religion-violating search procedures, humiliation, and public hatred. It is justified because somebody, somewhere else, has committed crimes in their religion's name. You might claim its a different situation, but the logical conclusion to be drawn from this situation or an economical one are one and the same. In the economic one, it merely becomes that you are guilty of not being poor, and the logical (and desired, by those who expound this philosophy) conclusion of that that you are drawn to is justifying every punishment the government and society push on you.

Guilt should not be one of the constants in life.

iTunes Rage

2011-10-24T15:14:00.001-07:00

Apple hates me.

Economics: Not Just A Numbers Issue

2011-10-20T14:58:00.001-07:00

"Adrian Veidt: Dan. A world united in peace... there had to be sacrifice.
Dan Dreiberg: No! You haven't idealized mankind but you've... you've deformed it! You mutilated it. That's your legacy. That's the real practical joke."
-The Watchment (2009 movie based on Alan Moore's Graphic Novel)

Warning: Movie Spoilers Ahead

The basic premise of the ending of "Watchmen" is that Veidt has saved the world. The good King Ozymandias has saved mankind from nuclear extinction at the expense of an incredible loss of human life. Dreiberg sees this and, intially, protests. While he gives in (and Rorschach, memorably, does NOT), he still brings up a valid point. In the novel, Veidt transports a large, psychic, Lovecraftian being to a science institute in New York, killing an incredible portion of the city's people. In the movie, he sends incredible blasts of energy to devastate major cities across the globe. Regardless of what method he uses, there is one fundamental question that can be asked of both outcomes: Was it moral?

For me, solving the problem of the economy is not only a monetary one. It is also a moral one. Many in the "Occupy Wall Street" movement want a worker's state. Others want an outright communist state. While there are flaws in these desires (for an in-depth analysis of the shortcomings of Hegel, Marx, and other communist philosophers, see Ludwig von Mises's "Socialism"), they do require one fundamental common factor. Let us begin with a basic assumption that most people would agree with (or claim to): Man has a right to his life. An extension of this is that man has a right to the products of his time, life, and work. HIS work, not others. This right also extends to his life: The right to do with him or herself as he or she pleases, as long as it does not subtract from or infringe on another's free rights. Again, this is not to discuss the economic viability of socialism or communism- others with more knowledge and experience have done this for me (again, see Mises). And if you do not believe that man has a right to live, or to his life, then you will clearly find fundamental disagreements in the discourse that follows.

Socialism and communism do not allow this. While one advocates a sibling to slavery, the other advocates outright slavery. Both economies and philosophies emphasize that there can be no choice within their societies. Socialism REQUIRES that every working man and woman work for his or her neighbor. Literal neighbor? Not neccessarily. It can be one across the street, or even country. The more you produce, the more is taken. Of course, under many socialist systems, you can simply quit your job. In some cases, you'll even still garner income. This gives the unemployed and less-than-fortunate a claim to your time and, by extension, your life. In effect, they can claim (as they do now in, say, California) over half the productive hours of your living week. If you make $100,000/year, you pay roughly 50% of it in taxes in North Carolina, once you factor in sales, car, and other taxes. If you work 40 hours a week, that means you just worked 20 hours a week with zero compensation for your time. And can you opt out? No. It is a close approximation to slavery, where another person or group holds domination and influence over the totality of your being. Slavery is condemned almost universally. But if you rebrand it, its supported by all the entitlists.

Communism, as defined by Hegel, Marx, and other writers, however, is total slavery. Many communists conveniently forget they'd have to give up their wealth, and use their iPads, smartphones, or video games that capitalism have brought them. Marx did not believe in these things. Not as a general rule of thumb, no, but as property. He believed people should not be allowed private property at all, or ownership of production. EVERYTHING you work for is sent to the State (which he conveniently avoids defining) to be sent to others who have less. The slavery of all to all- you cannot produce for yourself no matter how hard you work. Marx and Hegel were conveniently vague when it came to defining what to do with those who did not agree, or those who tried to keep their property. If you tried to leave the system, you lose ALL your "property" to the state. This is extraordinarily similar to the state of people of "color" in the southern United States pre-1865.

And this is how the ownership of property extends from these. Property is something you own, purchased as a trade. The trade was this: Your time in exchange for compensation, in the form of a job. Then, the compensation for the property. By taking away the right to property, you, in essence, take away the human's right to his or her life. Which communism does (and achieved). And if you take away that right, you have turned that person into a slave. Whether a slave of a property owner, a government, or a society, you are now a slave- you have lost the right to your time, and, by extension, your life.

And both require the use of coercive force- obey or else. Imprisonment, fines, death. Historically, these have all been punishment for rebellion against the standards given by socialism and communism. Any person who argues that these systems do NOT require these coercive measures is a sophist, refusing to define words as they are. A person who refuses to use the dictionary definition of the word cannot be considered valid for any point of discussion, or any debate, as using reason and rational argument is pointleses against such arbitrary measures.

Some people will always be the Rorschach. The majority, however, are like Dreiburg, and will claim its okay to sacrifice our morals (the moral code being simply that man has a right to his life) for the sake of saving the world. I argue that, if you've sacrificed that moral code, you've already lost the world. No immoral being can 'save' the world, they can only damn it.

"Get A Job You..." Get WHAT Job?

2011-10-12T05:48:00.000-07:00

I was browsing Facebook for a few minutes today and stumbled across this site. While the message is amusing and (mostly) correct, I noticed several errors of argument in the title picture. I'll start with the third passage of the title picture.

First off, the Biology degree. According to the US DoL statistics, there are roughly 91,000 biology jobs available in the United States. That's 91,000 jobs for 307 million people. That biology degree is going to face some very fierce competition for an actual position. Of those, fourty percent are government jobs. The girl should be on the Marxist's side. Socialism and communism are all about socialization of the means of production, and scientific research is one of those.

Second, I'll point out the end of ther comment about NYC alleys. Unemployment levels in the US are entirely reliant on the unemployment recording system and all of its limits. A lot of people on unemployment are currently expirigin. Once you expire, you no longer report to the office. The actual numbers are much higher. So yes, they should all go 'get a job sweeping at McDonald's"... Or should they? There are no jobs to be had. Not really. The government's seen to that. Most economists that study events IN their historical context (Keynesian ones, such as Krugman, seem to conveniently ignore the externalities in the equation) have pointed out that government regulation and higher taxes have chased many jobs overseas, and continue to do so. Its basic economics. A business is making money for two reasons. One, somebody created it and set it in motion. Two, to make money. If you make moneymaking difficult or impossible, it will go where it is possible. You want to keep its business, you make it easier to do business. By regulation and taxing business, the United States government has forced many jobs to go to India and Ireland, just to name a few, where both are much lower. And why shouldn't they? Don't business owners have a right to the hard work they poured into their company? Well, they should, at any rate. So the image's letter should be telling them to protest Washington to bring jobs back and deregulate business.

As for the protestors, they're idiots. I haven't seen one yet that can bring out an intelligent interview or back their claims.

Steve Jobs dies at 56

2011-10-05T17:32:00.000-07:00

I mourn Steve Jobs not as an inventor or designer, but as a marketer. Under his control, Apple has consistently proven that intelligent advertisement can overcome incredible odds and competition. While their hardware might not always be up to par, they managed to pull in almost the entire mp3 player and tablet market. Hopefully, Apple can continue to provide competition for Microsoft and other companies without otehr competition, even though it has essentially lost its creative genius and chief marketer.

Steve Jobs, February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011
You were one of the best in the market.

Music Joke

2011-10-02T19:19:00.001-07:00

A C, an E-flat, and a G go into a bar. The bartender says: "Sorry, but we don't serve minors." So, the E-flat leaves, and the C and the G have an open fifth between them.

After a few drinks, the fifth is diminished and the G is out flat. An F comes in and tries to augment the situation, but is not sharp enough.

A D comes into the bar and heads straight for the bathroom saying, "Excuse me. I'll just be a second."

An A comes into the bar, but the bartender is not convinced that this relative of C is not a minor. Then the bartender notices a B-flat hiding at the end of the bar and exclaims: "Get out now! You're the seventh minor I've found in this bar tonight."

The E-flat, not easily deflated, comes back to the bar the next night in a 3-piece suit with nicely shined shoes. The bartender (who used to have a nice corporate job until his company downsized) says: "You're looking sharp tonight, come on in! This could be a major development."

This proves to be the case, as the E-flat takes off the suit, and everything else, and stands there au natural.

Eventually, the C sobers up, and realizes in horror that he's under a rest.

The C is brought to trial, is found guilty of contributing to the diminution of a minor, and is sentenced to 10 years of DS without Coda at an upscale correctional facility.

On appeal, however, the C is found innocent of any wrongdoing, even accidental, and that all accusations to the contrary are bassless.

The bartender decides, however, that since he's only had tenor so patrons, the soprano out in the bathroom, and everything has become alto much treble, he needs a rest—and closes the bar.

New element discovered!

2011-10-01T18:48:00.001-07:00

Research has led to the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science.

The new element, Governmentium (Gv), has one neuron, 25 assistant neurons, 88 deputy neurons, and 198 assistant deputy neurons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons.

Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert; however, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second to take from four days to four years to complete.

Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2-6 years; it does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neurons and deputy neurons exchange places.

In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neurons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass. When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons

My Favorite Quotes

2011-09-29T15:15:00.001-07:00

‎"Don't put your trust in revolutions. They always come around again. That's why they're called revolutions. People die, and nothing changes." - Terry Pratchett

"I am neither foe nor friend to my brothers, but such as each of them shall deserve of me. And to earn my love, my brothers must do more than to have been born. I do not grant my love without reason, nor to any chance passer-by who may wish to claim it. I honor men with my love. But honor is a thing to be earned." - Prometheus

"We are on strike against self-immolation. We are on strike against the creed of unearned rewards and unrewarded duties. We are on strike against the dogma that the pursuit of one's happiness is evil. We are on strike against the doctrine that life is guilt." - John Galt

"Today, racism is regarded as a crime if practiced by a majority--but as an inalienable right if practiced by a minority. The notion that one’s culture is superior to all others solely because it represents the traditions of one’s ancestors, is regarded as chauvinism if claimed by a majority--but as 'ethnic' pride if claimed by a minority." -Ayn Rand

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." - Eleanor Roosevelt

"Life is short, break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that made you smile." - Ruslana Korshunova

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind." - Theodor Seuss Geisel

Windows 8: My First Impressions

2011-09-22T14:08:00.000-07:00

I'll begin this review with two things. One, I write this knowing that Windows 8 is still in development and nowhere near release. Two, for point of reference, my current desktop and wallpaper. I used Rocket Dock for awhile, but got tired of not having access to my icons if I chose to alt-tab to the desktop. Moving on. Here's the hardware I'm running it on:
-Intel i7 i950 3.06GHz quad-core
-6GB of XMP-specification RAM
-nVidia GeForce 9500GT (1GB of memory)
-320GB Hard drive

I downloaded the 64-bit Developer Preview with the developer tools from Microsoft's website. My first experiences were a combination of puzzlement and frustration. 7-zip kept reporting that the source had disconnected when unzipping, and Microsoft's Windows 7 USB DVD Tool, advised by many online outlets, refused to work as well. I deleted the file and redownloaded the ISO image without the developer tools. Same thing. Finally found a tool that writes a boot sector to flash drives. Opened the ISO with Daemon Tools as a mounted image, and copied everything over from the virtual DVD drive after dissuading it from replacing Windows 7 with Windows 8.

Installation was quick and easy, until I reached a certain part. "Please sign in with your Windows Live ID". I have one, don't want to use it. Okay. So start to sign in- it begins asking more questions. Apparently, it offers some sort of consistent computing experience using clouds, similar to Android Tablets, Chromebook, the web desktop that existed for awhile (a browser-based OS), and other devices. I hunted around, and found a way to opt out. Ballmersoft managed to get in one snide comment before I chose to use a "Local Account", though. 'You will not be able to move the files you care about between computers.' Anyway, I like the concepts and ideas behind it, but I'm not going to test that feature now.

So I'm at the... Login screen? I see a picture of a (beautiful) mountain range, a clock, and... No login box for a username or password. *CLICK* Ah, here it is- giant flat green screen with 'dibblebill' and a password box on it. So I log in. Well, now what? I'm logged in and ready to... What's this? Where's the desktop gone? Its chosen to look like iOS and Android-based tablets. Great, if I were on a tablet. I'm not- I'm on a desktop. Ohkay, well, I figured out how to alt-tab out to the desktop, its still there. Just hidden. Well, at this point, I'm trying to take screenshots and post them. However, it seems that Windows no longer has Paint. Just PaintPlay, which I cannot find a way to paste into. Go go Gimp! I open the new Internet Explorer (Metronet Explorer? Not sure what its actually called) and go get GIMP to save jpg's of my progress. My opinions on this version are mixed. I seem to have no right-click, no options... And here's the new tab page. Opening it from the traditional desktop has different results. At any rate, I also had to install Adobe Flash, which was very buggy in Windows 8. Again, its a beta, if even that.

I looked for the control panel, but could not find it. I did find it later, but here's what it seems to have been replaced by. Do not like. I want to be able to open the hood and truly tinker with the OS. I also cannot try out the HTML5 Windows Store yet, to my disappointment, but I didn't expect it to be ready yet.

What I did like: Remote desktop made easy. I'm surprised that its such an up front and easy to find feature- I normally have to dig through mountains of menus to find it in Windows. I also liked this built-in feature. Overall, its pretty, but very little function yet, for a desktop. If I had it on a touch-screen tablet, I'm sure I'd have a very different opinion.

Review: Minecraft's 1.8 Patch

2011-09-16T11:57:00.000-07:00

As many, many of you will probably know, Minecraft's Adventure Update Part 1 just released (officially Minecraft v1.8). I've been building a huge castle for some time on the edge of my generated world, so decided to go exploring. I fell into a ravine first thing. Barely below the surface. Built ladders to get down. BEAUTIFUL. Reminded me of real spelunking! I killed a skeleton and lit a path to some red lighting. Looked over the ledge- lava fall near a bunch of fence, rails, and such... Abandoned mine shaft? I'd read about poison spiders, so I checked my surroundings. Nothing. Climbed down, happy as a lark. Well, I get to the bottom, and begin exploring it. I hear a spider, look around, little bugger's coming at me! I killed it with one bite, lost half my health in the process. No biggy. CREEPER! *slash stab kill*

Okay, I'll admit it, the mine shafts have me paranoid and scared. So I venture into a slightly open area, and six poison spiders jump me. I die.

Take two, I take 19 TNT with me. Lay down four, figuring to kill the spiders and blow open the shaft. Sure, one dies. But then seven or eight swarm me when I step into the hole. Yeah, I like the expansion. Endermen are just scary as all getup, trying to kill them when they swarm me. And silverfish are so adorable!

North Carolina vs Personal Rights, and To Each According to His Need

2011-09-13T15:21:00.000-07:00

I am firmly against the government telling anybody how and when they can marry. As long as the marriage is consensual between both parties, what is wrong with it? If a man wishes to marry a man, a woman a woman, or a man to a woman, what business is it of everybody else? Yet North Carolina's state government has decided to step in and intercede in the personal liberties and freedoms of its citizens. It is absolutely deplorable for it to tell people how and who to love. The citizens of North Carolina are just as contemptible, committing the supreme evil of assuming they have a right of telling other people how to live their lives. This is especially true because the marriages wouldn't affect their every day lives. So by what right can the government or its citizens make this claim?

Simple. "We feel its wrong". They have no basis or moral ground to make this statement from- Not everybody believes in the Christian God. Why should people who don't, or have a different interpretation of the Bible, be held to the majority's moral code? Anybody who presumes to have the right to control the freedoms and liberties of others should reconsider their moral ground- they are no believer in true liberty, only in their false moral code that allows them to believe they're in the right.

Second, we are now seeing the first obvious and blatant stages of what entitlement states lead to. Schools are now competing for funding not by having the brightest students, but by having the worst. New schools and old are trying to find anything at all that their students can be diagnosed with in order that they can file for more funding for students with needs. From each according to his ability, to each according to his need. My brother, for example. So far as I know, schools cannot give a student an IEP or implement it without parent involvement. Walnut Creek Elementary School did both, filing a speech impairment IEP and pulling him from class for speech therapy, citing that he had an IEP at Vandora Springs. This is untrue.

Not only is this a blatant breakage of law, its a desparate plea to show they have more 'need' than the next school. This isn't something confined to just one school- its happening nationwide. And its only the beginning- this has already been happening to Medicaire and other government programs, and the government's been robbing the wealthy and successful for nearly a century now to give to others with need. It'll be a race to the bottom for the most funding. The immorality of stealing from the able and successful aside, can you imagine what this will do to the economic, moral, and political state of the country?

Unreal Engine 3 and Android 3.1

2011-08-31T14:37:00.001-07:00

I recently posted a technology review about Acer's Tegra-based tablet. In one part of this review, I implied that the iPad had Unreal Engine 3-based games, and Android devices... Did not. I discovered today that I was in error. Dungeon Defenders is a Tower Defense style game based on UE3. I must say, it runs fairly well, and has decent game play to boot. I'll have to try out the tablet's game controller support sometime.

Ah ha!

2011-08-19T21:04:00.000-07:00

I found a setting called "Viewing Mode" on the tablet. After setting it to "Desktop", my web browsing complaints are over!!!

Acer Iconia a500 review

2011-08-19T08:06:00.000-07:00

I used to scoff at the users of the iPad, and still do... Somewhat. I got myself a 'superior' Acer Iconia a500, running the Android 3.0 'Honeycomb' software. My employer had them at the retail price of 399USD, but with a $100 Target gift card. I'll start with my experience from the beginning.

Before I purchased it, I noted that some newer tablets already advertised Android 3.1 software. When I first turned on the Acer, it ran through a basic setup process. After I connected to the internet, I was very (pleasantly) surprised to discover it connected to Google's servers and offered to update to 3.1 while I was registering. This was really nice, as I was able to finish the registration process while it downloaded the update. The update itself only took 2-3 minutes, which is not bad. Registering was simple and mostly pain-free. My only hangup was my own fault in not paying attention to the on-screen keyboard. The keyboard itself wasn't the issue. Its actually of comparable key size to notebook computers- I just have to remember in place of capslock is a button to access special symbols and letters. I'll be getting a Bluetooth keyboard for sure. Possibly this one (I'm only partially kidding). At any rate, registration was easy, and it linked automagically to my Google account.

Anybody who knows me decently knows the first thing I do is customize a computer's appearance. I was glad to see they had a decent selection of built-in high definition wallpapers. The Apps in the marketplace that advertised wallpaper collections, however, did not. They were built for the Android 2.x-based phones, so were actually in a lower resolution. Many Apps are built specifically for the phones, and so will not take advantage of the a500's 1280x800 screen. This isn't, however, a flaw in the tablet. Its a flaw with the developers. Anyway, moving on.

The Wi-Fi and browser work great. Flash Player works well, as well. My main gripe is that the browser keeps getting directed to the Mobile section of websites. I couldn't view HD Youtube videos (or browse and view like you do on a computer) at first, but there was a button on Youtube to use the Desktop version (with a disclaimer about optimization for phones). Many websites don't have this feature. HD video playback through the browser instead of the Youtube app works fine, as does browsing facebook and other sites. Links and such that are too small to click with a finger can be zoomed in on and clicked easily. I love the tabbed browsing, though.

The 3D rendering ability of the a500 is spectacular for the price, size, and battery life. The game selection isn't spectacular, though. I didn't buy it to game, that being said. If you're going to get a gaming tablet, get the iPad 2. No, the iPad 2 cannot multitask as well. Yes, the chip it has has been benchmarked as inferior to the Tegra 2. Yes, it has only 50% of the a500's RAM. But the standardized hardware platform is better for development than the vast range of hardware platforms for the Android devices. Epic Games even threw their weight behind it (unsurprising, as they shipped Unreal Tournament 2004 Editor's Choice Edition with a Linux installer). That being said, EA's "Need for Speed" game that shipped with the Iconia impressed me (especially with its responsiveness to the gyroscope) in multiple ways. I have yet to try the Spartan game it ships with, but I did install the requisite Angry Birds/Rio/Seasons, several Minecraft item ID/recipe apps, Aura (an EVE Online skill tracking/ship fitting App), and an EVE Online sovereignty map viewer.

The touch screen is also very receptive. In a bright environment with it off, you can see the capacitative grid. In a REALLY bright light, you can see it with the a500 turned on. In lighting that bright, however, you may want to reconsider using it to begin with. My girlfriend and I were both impressed with its responsiveness when used in combination with drawing applications, and it works well for games like Angry Birds. Its also excellent with a cookbook application I found. The interface on the application is designed for a touch screen, and finding recipes is quick and simple.

The GPS Antenna isn't the fastest, but its about as fast as any Garmin I've worked with. Once it has a lock, it keeps it. I'm having a hard time finding usable offline map software, though. The GPS and navigation software it ships with requires a 3G or Wi-Fi connection to stream the maps to the device. This isn't an issue if you have a good data plan, but can be an issue if you're trying to navigate by road. The Navit software I downloaded wasn't bad, but I strongly disliked its inability to recalculate routes or find certain addresses (my girlfriend's apartment, for example). Using GPS Status, though, shows that the GPS antenna is accurate and fast. It can even test gyroscope and accelerometer readings.

The battery life has been impressive, so far. It seems to be able to go days on standby without recharging, and roughly 8 hours at full tilt, downloading data, playing video, and playing Angry Birds. While downloading maps for the current GPS software I'm testing.

EDIT: I forgot the sound review. The on-board speakers aren't astounding compared to, say, a desktop computer's speakers. However, remember you've got them sandwhiched in this tiny wafer of a computer. That being said, combined with the Dolby Digital controller, they sound fantastic for their size. Great for use with Pandora, Youtube, games, etc. Don't expect wonderful, amazing, deep sounds from it- just know that, for the size, they do sound good.
Now for the bad. Sometimes, the web browser likes to terminate without message or warning. Navit does the same. The browser has only done this 2-3 times, while I'm browsing 5+ tabbed pages. Other applications infrequently crash and have to be re-opened (Navit, Aura, and others). Selecting and copying text from a website with an image for a background appears nothing short of impossible- the tap and hold method for most pages only asks to save the background. My other gripe is that there is a complete lack of free word processing applications. I'll probably pay for Quick Office, though. The reviews and screenshots for this aren't bad. Its just a shame that the folks behind Open/Libre Office have produced no application (though a viewer exists).

All in all, I've played with an Apple iPad 2, the Motorola XOOM, Samsung Galaxy Tab, Acer Iconia, Asus Transformer, and the BlackBerry Playbook. I've also tinkered with many of the (horrible) Android 2.x tablets. Whoever ignored Google's "Wait for Android 3" messages and made tablets with a phone operating system made a terrible decision. They're only really good for, at best, basic web/youtube browsing, portable picture viewing, and Angry Birds. The best I've used were the XOOM, Iconia, and Playbook. Worst were the Transformer (seriously defective touch screens, in my opinion), iPad 2 (no offline GPS functionality I could find, easy to crash, no multitasking to speak of), and the Galaxy Tab (no real 3D ability that I could find, seemed to be fond of freezing instead). The cost of the XOOM and Playbook were what pushed me into buying the Acer.

Hardware specifications (Acer Iconia a500):
-Screen: 10.1" WXGA Screen (1280x800 resolution)
-Processor: 1GHz dual-core CPU (nVidia Tegra 250)
-Battery: 3260mAh Li-Polymer
-Memory: 1GB DDR2
-Camera: 5MP outer camera with flash, 2MP inner camera (facing you) without flash
-Connectivity: 1x USB 2.0 port, 1x MicroSDHC slot, 1x MicroHDMI port, 3.5mm Headphone Jack, Wi-Fi (a/b/g/n), Bluetooth

Gaming in Sci-Fi Episode Two: Borderlands

2011-08-11T05:39:00.000-07:00

I will admit it. I don't know much about the Borderlands universe beyond what the base game, Dr. Ned's Zombie Island, Mad Moxxie's Underdome, and General Knoxx's Armory provide. All we know is that it takes place on what is essentially a dump planet. Most of the people there are hungry or starving, with many more of them being below their world's poverty line. To be fair, though, even Pandora's wealthy live like the planet's impoverished. Even so, however, gaming shows up in this game. Yes, there are portions of the game that are about playing a game.

Before the first two DLC packs arrived, exploring Pandora's crevices brought out two small arena's. In both, you would fight hordes of monsters for money. I can only presume they'd do such a thing for an audience, as otherwise there's no profit. Where's the profit in capturing monsters such as skags, putting them to fight a person, and paying them? There's no income. Also take into consideration how lethal Skag subspecies can be. Some spit acid, others spew fire or lightning. Some are as big as an armored car. This can't be a cheap or profitable occupation. If you catch and sell them, I imagine that the arena is paying substantial amounts of money for each group, and the arena is still not turning a profit without a paying audience of some sort. The second arena's enemies are even more dangerous. They consist of the murderous gangs of gun-armed bandits roaming around the plains. I doubt you'd have to capture them, as even a little money is probably enough to persuade them to fight, but again, you'd need a paying audience to continue paying them and to stay in business. The whole theme here is not unlike the Roman Coliseum and games of old where people fought animals or other gladiators to the death.

And then you have Mad Moxxie's Underdome. While I'm never quiet sure on her origins, she now runs what is arguably a duplication (in spirit) of the Coliseum in its heyday. It has three possible arena configurations, an audience that is protected from stray gunfire, and various waves and 'rules' for each fight. Judging from the apparent population of Pandora throughout the game and the size of the audience, it must be a seriously important attraction. She runs contestants through a grinder of different rules and competitions until they prove themselves worthy, and if they can survive, pays them handsomely. Its not an event most people could survive. The antechamber to the combat section of the arena even houses a weapons storage bank and several gun and ammo vending machines so that contestants can 'choose their weapon' before the match. The creatures, men, and monsters you fight against come from a most frightful menagerie, and again, the monster tamers must be well compensated for their efforts and the threat to their life.

In both future 'games' I've felt like describing, violence and real blood seems to be a central theme. However, next time, I promise I'll stop making references to Romans and the coliseum, and explore a different concept- the good, old race.

On Eugenics: The moral and economic implications

2011-07-25T21:03:00.000-07:00

After Obama's recent 'speech' about deficits and debts, I had an acquaintance make the following claims about our economic state's causes.

1) Busing. All that gas costs too much money.
2) Welfare programs. Nobody on welfare is trying to improve their position. They're on welfare, so clearly they're not trying.
3) Welfare programs again. Anybody on welfare is having kids for the sole reason of exploiting the system and should be forced to have their 'tubes tied', to use her words for it.
4) OBAMA DID IT

No, Obama did not ruin our economy. At least, not alone. Yes, many people do abuse welfare, but its also designed so that even if you manage to work your way out of it, it'll try to put you back in it. No, busing is not the core issue of our governmental funding issues. Its merely a drop in the bucket. Possibly even a picoliter.

Before I begin, I am anti-welfare program, and I have excellent reasons for it. This includes corporate welfare. But I'll not mince words. Her advice is forced sterilization and an economics-based eugenics program. History has had its amazing share of eugenics attempts based on a number of things. The United States enforced one based on genetic defects, mental capacity, and IQ. This has been discontinued, of course, and many of the victims of this horrid program reimbursed. Honestly, though, nothing can ever reimburse someone truly for such a horrid violation of their right to their life and body. Hitler advised and executed it on a monstrous scale it based on ethnicity, sexual preferences, and religious preferences. And this idea didn't start in the 20th century. Sir Francis Galton advised it as early as 1865. Advising eugenics and sterilizations based on economic reasons is even more morally reprehensible than advising it on grounds of not wanting to further spread genetic mutations that are deemed undesirable. If a person chose to do so on their own accord, that is their choice. But its a far cry from being told "you've had too many kids, get your tubes tied, now." China, our favorite demon to accuse of humans rights violations, was HEAVILY criticized for enforcing laws limiting children. It has lead to infanticide, home abortions, forced abortions, and forced sterilizations.

I'll move on. Ignoring the flagrant disregard for the most basic human right, the right to your life and body, there are also the economic implications. The cost to the consumer to have a woman's 'tubes tied' is $1,000-$3,000 USD. This is per person, and only for the initial surgery. This doesn't include outpatient procedures, prescriptions for any applicable medicines, or payouts in case of complications. Who's going to pay for this? The government will. Not only that, but this solution isn't even 100% effective. According to that article's statistics, you'll have to go back and re-do every 18.5 women. I'm not sure how a half person becomes pregnant, but its a statistic. We'll roll with it. That's another $18,000 dollars, at MINIMUM. What about doctor's pay? And availability? Will we socialize and subsidize their pay, and the training and schooling to become a surgeon capable of performing the procedure? The cost is quickly spiraling upwards.

Now, what about men who have lots of little kids running around? This friend, who is a female herself, puts all the blame on the woman. This is an amusingly typical case of sexism, one I find runs rampant. Ignoring that, as its a discussion for another post, one could extrapolate her claims to include men and vasectomies as well. A vasectomy is much cheaper, at $350 to $1,000 USD per patient. Statistically, its even more effective, with only 1 or 2 women out of 1,000 becoming pregnant, vs the 'tube tying' method's eighteen. Oh, and a half. However, the side effects are much worse. Some even, in fact, require more surgery. So, again, who's going to foot the bill?

She advocates one thing to 'reduce' the welfare strain, and instead introduce another tremendous funding deficit. Judging from her other statements, George W. Bush and Mr. McCain would have solved our budget crisis if given more time, right? I doubt the person in question will ever read this post. If they do, since they clearly didn't understand my shorter version of the response directly to them, they probably won't understand this version, either, and will continue advocating that they are somehow different from Galton, Hitler, China, and pre-WWII United States. Because they're the special exception, and the rules don't apply to them. Right?

An update on my writing stuff

2011-07-21T10:45:00.001-07:00

I've decided to keep some of the core concepts of my story I'm writing the same, but change the plot and such completely. Some of you may have seen my 'Atlantea' post. I've decided to change the name to Atlantis: Rise of Evils. The PLAN is to make it a trilogy. "Rise of Evils", "Age of Villainy", and "It Is" are the planned subtitles. Will I ever finish it? Questionable. But that's the plan. Its actually becoming somewhat of a superhero story.

I'm still working through another shorter novella. Hoping to have it published on the Kindle by the end of August. As for what I'm reading, I'm still re-reading Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged", and Ludwig von Mises's "Socialism".

Ciao!

There's No Stars...

2011-07-20T05:53:00.000-07:00

Argyle sweater hits on one of the most depressing things about this century so far. Depressing to me, at least. Sure, NASA had its ups and downs, but the space program, or at least the shuttle program, has finally been sent to the curb for pickup by a trash truck. That in and of itself does not depress me. Companies like Virgin Galactic give me hope. Apparently, scientists and companies have already booked the first several flights into orbit.

No, what depresses me is the total lack of care shown by Americans as a whole. Being an avid science fiction reader and watcher, I'd hoped to one day witness something like this. Or at least the beginnings of it. Having read several of Mr. Clarke's works other than 2001: Space Odyssey, I was excited about what this century and its new technology might have brought. But the world seems to have gone the route that Jack McDevitt predicted instead in several of his books. There's just no profit to be had in space, and people as a whole view it as irrelevant and dangerous. McDevitt all but predicted this, with the human race withdrawing to Earth alone in his novels, to just expire slowly. Stagnation is death, I believe he outright says, and this I believe. If we cannot exercise our full potential as rational, reasoning beings... Where will that leave us?

Let's face the honest truth. If the stars all went out tomorrow, most people would never notice or care. All they care for are Hollywood's stars and news. The skies and space around us were never real to most. Apollo 11's achievement are all but forgotten. I can't help but recall a conversation my dad told me about overhearing at the National Aerospace Museum. This girl asked, "How did they get the lunar rover there?" Her boyfriend's response? "On the space shuttle." I can't help but feel this nation is sinking increasingly faster into ignorance through apathy, and it shows everywhere, not just here.

Here's hoping someone can somehow turn it around, along with every other punishment we've created for the intrepid and successful.

EVE Online: Incarna

2011-06-24T06:02:00.000-07:00

To say I am dissaisfied with Incarna would be an adequate description. To say the community is (largely) overreacting is also a good statement to make. I'm quite satisfied with the new turret system, its gorgeous.

However, Incarna itself is sitting unused. I stare at a ship door every day when I dock. Why? The code is a huge resource hog. This was not unforseen, however. While the community is raging about it, CCP themselves stated multiple times that CQ was brought about as an actual live test of the Incarna code. It is clear that the code needs revision. Will it get revised? On CCP's timeline, that's going to likely be awhile, if ever.

Moving on, AUR prices. I'm more than shocked at the cost. $70 USD for a monocle that adds no value to gameplay? CCP must be insane. They should know that their playerbase typically buys things based not on looks, but value. Of what value is a monocle, other than looking spiffy? Especially without a top hat. Its clearly a sheme to sell more PLEX, but an ineffective one. This one the community is absolutely in arms about. But why? Would you buy these anyway? Even at 25% or 10% of the cost? Probably not. I know that most of the options we already have are adequate.

The internal newsletter. I see two trains of thought. One, that "Greed is Good" is a bad slogan. Maybe, since 90% of playerbase wouldn't know why greed is good to begin with. Greed is why you have EVE Online. There's a huge difference between "Greed" and "Stupid Greed". That newsletter, in my opinion, falls under the latter. Here, the playerbase is righteously angry, in my opinion. CCP has promised for years that microtransactions would never affect our actual gameplay beyond vanity. This newsletter demonstrates that this has all been a lie. Similarly, Helicity Boson shouldn't be banned- other members have sent CCP Soundwave death threats and are being ignored. Now, I don't like Helicity, but still, its a bit convenient to ban the most outspoken one.

Now, for what is, in my opinion, the root of the problem. Many don't realize that, unfortunately, a corporation is not loyal to its customers. By law, a corporation has to cater to its shareholders. This puts profits first, no matter what. Us customers get the short end of the stick. I can promise you, at its heart, this is probably what is the root of the issue. If CCP were held accoutable to us and not the shareholder, they'd likely be more flexible. Let's face it- the shareholders only want their money's worth.

Gaming in Sci-Fi Episode One: Battletech

2011-06-17T06:47:00.000-07:00

One thing that has stuck with mankind for centuries is entertainment. While they have not always taken the same form, games have been around for centuries. They range from the benign (professional sports, video games, board games) to the dangerous (MMA, dog fighting, similar games). With increasingly powerful rendering technology, video games seem to be the gaming method of the future. We now have full motion detection thanks to Microsoft's Kinect, 3D television rendering on the Playstation 3, and even full-screen split-screen, thanks to 3D HDTV's and the PS3. Hand-held, portable gaming is also becoming increasingly powerful. The Nintendo 3DS can display images in 3D, and Sony's new handheld promises to bring unprecedented power to the field. In some ways, we have surpassed what any science-fiction piece once thought we would, even if we fall short in others. The purpose of this post is not to condone nor endorse any particular entertainment method over another.

The Coliseum is one of Rome's most known structures. Ancient and almost universally recognized, it was the site of both theater and games. Slaves would battle for their lives against other slaves within its violent confines. Sometimes, they would bring in large or exotic animals for them to fight. The audience would get to decide the fate of the slaves fighting in the pit at points. In fact, it could even be flooded to simulate naval battles. While there is nothing in today's world that is quite on scale with the games of ancient Rome, its legacy lives on. There are many places in the world where audiences watch live animals fight, often to the death. Fighting competitions show up in other parts of the world, even though they are not often "to the death". There are also underground fight rings where things are less than safe (or legal). Violent gaming is not the exception, it is the rule. I don't pretend to know why, but I'd argue that it has to do with the thrill of the "chase". That excitement of avoiding becoming somebody else's trophy piece.

In the future, according to Battletech ( www.classicbattletech.com ), the Earth has expanded its reach. It is just past the year 3000. Wars are fought not only on the ground or from the seat of a tank's command position, but in the cockpit of walking fighting machines. And the legacy of the Coliseum lives on.

Solaris VII, the gaming world. In the words of the immortal Duncan Fisher, "It is Solaris time!" Here, on this world, people take to the cockpit of a combat vehicle worth more than most modern militaries could afford, wrecking around on a battlefield 500m-2km across. The machines weigh anything from 20 tons to 100 tons, while the largest class often carry enough firepower to level a small city. And just what do these people do with these machines of mass death? They fight to destroy every opposing target on the field. People of every nationality and empire flock to the gaming world (except for the Clans), with the audiences numbering beyond count. The guns are loaded with live rounds, and the Battlemech armor is melting and shattering. A dozen tons of ammo can be expended in only two minutes on a quiet day. "If a large piece of debris should land in your part of the stands, we DO apologize." In the Battletech universe, anybody who knows anything about entertainment flies to Solaris at least once. Failing that, the battles and games are televised and broadcast almost universally.

Much like the modern perception of Rome's gladiators and other warriors of the time (The Gladiator, Spartacus, 300, etc.), which is highly romanticized and often leaves out the bad parts, the perception of the Solaris MechWarrior is often exaggerated among the common person in Battletech. Duncan Fisher, in MechWarrior 4 Mercenaries (the canonicity of the content in the game is questionable, but this line persists through to other knowledge sources) points out something similar. In one line during the arena matches, he states that the audience often has a romantic view of the pilots as their war machines demolish each other. They think the MechWarrior is cool, composed, and unshakable. The truth is, he points out in this line (I can't find the quote on it), most of these pilots come out of their Battlemech drenched in sweat. Their machines are absorbing the force of sometimes over a ton of ordnance per volley, rattling them around. This isn't a game for anyone.

The question is, would we be able to sustain such a destructive and costly form of gaming? On this planet, probably not. But in the future, who knows? By the year 3025 in the Battletech universe, we have expanded beyond the reaches of our solar system using Faster Than Light travel. They have far vaster resources than we do in the year 2011. We only have a thousand years to go before finding out if one day, Solaris VII will host the universe's largest daily expenditure of ammo for the crowd's delight. For now, as Duncan Fisher would say, "Hats off to those pansy-boys in the light mechs. Way to go, Light Mechs!"

Battletech, Battlemech, Solaris VII, and all associated content are all registered trademarks of Topps Company, Inc.

Punishment for Success

2011-06-09T11:43:00.000-07:00

Any sort of graduated income tax (or graduated tax in general) is, when you take it down to its basest terms, a punishment for being wealthy or successful. I have also discussed with friends (and they were unable to prove me wrong) the concept of taxes as theft. For the sake of my argument, I'll define punishment as the following:
Punishment is the authoritative imposition of something negative or unpleasant on a person or animal in response to behavior deemed wrong by an individual (Wikipedia)
Now that we have the basis for the definition of punishment established, let's take a look at the income tax of, say, California. If you make $15,000 USD/year as a single person in California, you are taxed $266. This is 1.77% of your income. If you make $150,000 USD/year as a single filer, this amount jumps to $12,035, or 8.02% of your income. I feel sorry for you if you're an unfortunately successful individual who makes more money than you need to survive on. If you are filing single in North Carolina and make $15,000, you are taxed $924, or 6.16% of your income. $150,000? You pay $11,047.50, or 7.37% of your income. And this is only your state tax.

Sure, that person who is earning that one hundred fifty pay has more money than the person making fifteen, and so you might be saying he can afford to give more, but is that fair? Think about it. If you had a simple flat state tax rate across incomes of, say, 7.5%, you'd get $1125 from the lower incomes and $11,250 from the upper incomes. "But that's less money for the poorer people!" Untrue! If we took and extended this model to our companies and corporations, costs across the board would be driven down. According to Intel, 90% of the additional cost of operating a factory in the United States of America is taxes. Those plants they choose to operate in other countries instead of this one cost us not only jobs, but lost tax revenue as well. But the solution isn't to remedy this, its to raise corporate and income taxes again.

Let's look at Federal level, too. At the Federal level, the $15,000 man is taxed $1835 per year, or 12.23%. The $150,000 man is taxed $35,709.25, or 23.80% of their income. Again, we see this theme. "You are more successful than others, therefore need to be punished."

The recurring theme in our political and tax system is one of "You must not succeed". If your income changes as little as +$100/year, the government decides you make enough to not get any assistance (or cut your benefits by $400/year). While I disagree with these programs on principle, consider that for a moment. These are programs intended to help you get OUT of these situations, yet the immediate response is to attempt to PUNISH you for your success in that. You get taxed MORE, and payed LESS. In addition, far more people make <$100,000 a year than over $150,000/year. The tax revenue (I don't have the statistics on hand) should be comparable, if not greater. If somebody has the statistics and wants to make the calculations, please do.

This attitude isn't only extended to money, unfortunately. I have two little brothers in elementary school. One was told he couldn't be rewarded for his exceptional performance in mathematics. The teachers have to reward each student at least once per year, even if they aren't deserving. Once again, we see this theme of 'punish the successful and reward the unproductive'. The students that are successful are picked on and frequently made examples of, while the ones who are not are popular and frequently made exceptions for. Why is it we make examples of the best, and make exceptions for the worst?

So tell me. What rational man would want to be successful in a country that punishes success? If John Galt were a real person, he would have gone on strike long ago.

Private Property? I Don't Think So

2011-05-16T12:43:00.000-07:00

North Carolina General Statue 40A-2.3
(3) "Eminent domain" means the power to divest right, title or interest from the owner of property and vest it in the possessor of the power against the will of the owner upon the payment of just compensation for the right, title or interest divested.

How many of my readers have purchased a house or piece of land, and consider yourself the 'owner' of that land? You should, perhaps, reconsider, if you live in North Carolina, or any nation, province, or state that has eminent domain laws. Under North Carolina law, anybody who is deemed to have more 'right' to the land than the owner can remove it from your possession. This is generally considered if any entity can prove they'll give the land more public utility than you do.
http://www.ncga.state.nc.us/EnactedLegislation/Statutes/HTML/BySection/Chapter_40A/GS_40A-3.html

An excellent example of this is a recent road widening project behind the house I live in.
http://www.raleighnc.gov/government/content/PWksDesignConst/Articles/RockQuarryWidenB.html

It cuts into an entire group of yards, reducing the size of the front yards of many of these homes to about 20 feet from the door. This distance means that it will open right into a busy, 4-5 lane road that sees traffic of over ten thousand cars per day. Previously, it was 40-50 feet. These are, of course, my personal estimates of distance. The people here were then charged, according to my understanding of the publicly available documents, $32 per linear foot of property the 'state' is improving. I can't find one documented shred of evidence that they were reimbursed in the paperwork (if you have some, please present it so I can be corrected).

Now, my interpretation of this situation might be wrong, but here's the way that looks to me. You, as a citizen, pay for a piece of property, in this case land, and pay it off. Then, the state comes along an decides the public can use it more than you can, and takes it away. Not only that, but to add insult to the theft, they charge you for it. Aren't you a part of the public? Why is their public more important than the public living on that street?

Well, this is only land, and land is valuable and nonrenewable, you might say. However, that's not the only place where something you own is taxed.
http://www.irs.gov/businesses/small/article/0,,id=164871,00.html
Granted, now, the tax has been amended so it only taxes the wealthiest two percent of Americans. Or does it?
http://www.irs.gov/businesses/small/article/0,,id=164872,00.html
http://www.irs.gov/businesses/small/article/0,,id=108139,00.html

But how is the theft of their purchased or earned property right? Keep in mind that in all these cases, you have already paid a sales tax, income tax, and numerous other taxes (as has everybody involved in the item in question's transportation, manufacture, and sale) just to obtain this item. Now that you legally own it, the government is saying THEY have a right to it? Or part of it? Technically, according to the IRS, they could choose to tax every single gift you give away, even a stick of gum. Really, in America, there is no such thing as private property anymore.

Novel Concept and Alternate Timeline

2011-04-20T07:06:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a science fiction novel. It will have many 'hard' science fiction concepts (such as the functionality and differences between Coil Guns and Rail Guns) as well as many 'softer' concepts, such as walking tanks, floating cities and vehicles, and directed energy weaponry (or directed energy augmented weaponry). I've set down an alternate timeline for history in it, throwing it out here. This is all fictional and in no way based on reality, real events, or meant as a commentary of a people or nation. The prologue and first chapters will set all this up in more detail.

1994 - Oil fields discovered under the Australian badlands
1996 - Australia outlaws development of alternative fuels to protect fossil fuel industry
1997 - Private science firm from Austria hires several Australian and Chinese electromagnetism experts
1998 - Project Atlantea is founded by this firm. Several PMC's and many business moguls jump on the project
2001 - First prototype electromagnetic levitator developed and tested - nicknamed 'Tesla Motivator'
2002 - First 'hover' vehicle developed and tested
2004 - Firm moves to United States after being heavily pressured by European Union to nationalize to benefit society
2007 - Construction of Atlantea begins.
2011 - Construction reaches halfway point of completion, US Government attempts 'legal' seizure of all related technologies and funding, fails
2013 - US Government again attempts seizure of related technology and funding, declares it a threat to national security. City Atlantea is launched prematurely, and moved out to sea, claiming sovereignty over itself
2015 - Atlantea makes treaties with many nations and land-based companies in exchange for patents, technology licensing, and exports
2016 - President Bay is elected on a ticket to 'reclaim the people's technology' from Atlantea for the US, declares war

Rogue Drones are Life Forms Too!

2011-04-11T20:17:00.000-07:00

Author's Note: I like EVE Online's universe. I wrote this for roleplay with someone, and realized, so far as Rogue Drones go, they meet all our current definitions for living organisms. They are space's apex predator, and feared throughout New Eden as such. Humans fear and hate them and demonize them, as we do snakes, lions, and sharks on earth. Are they not deserving of a second look?

Living organisms undergo metabolism, maintain homeostasis, possess a capacity to grow, respond to stimuli, reproduce and, through natural selection, adapt to their environment in successive generations. More complex living organisms can communicate through various means. Rogue drones exhibit all of these, as I will show.

Metabolism is defined simply as the chemical reactions required to maintain life. Rogue Drones use a complex combination of fusion plants and raw minerals to produce energy and maintain their existence. They consume this as 'food', process it, and refine it. This is then further used and reduced in reactions to fuel the Rogue Drone. They, therefore, undergo a form of metabolism unique to metallic-based life forms.

Rogue Drones maintain homeostasis. Homeostasis is the ability of a system, opened or closed, to maintain its environment. A Rogue Drone's body is a sealed environment, even at the smallest level. The smallest of worker drones have been observed to commit to repair attempts. They have oil and other pores designed to cool their systems, facilitate repairs, and protect internal components from corrosive materials. Large Rogue Drones take even more extreme measures, cannibalising ship hulls to maintain their own. In some extreme cases, smaller drones have used human and organic tissue to supplement their own. Rogue drones meet two criteria for life.

Rogue Drones have grown in many ways since their creation. They have grown physically and in ability. While the original drones were the size of cruisers or battleships, rogue drones have been documented that span kilometers, outsizing even capital ships. They grow physically, from the frigate-sized Alvus to the battleship-sized ones spotted. Rogue Drone faccilities are known to contain modification facilities to assist in this process, and rogue drones are known to fit components of victimized hulls and stations in order to grow themselves. Smaller drones use anything on hand for this process. They also grow in programming and 'knowledge', learning how to gather materials more efficiently. Or, in many cases, how to better defend themselves against navies and us, their primary predator and agressors. They grow, both mentally and physically.

Rogue drones could not exist without responding to stimuli. When an asteroid is spotted, for food or resources, they respond with the appropriate caste of drone. When a threat or 'food' source is located, the warrior or scavenger drones respond. They respond to each stimulus present with appropriate and proportional response. Without a response, they would have been eliminated by the first navy and capsuleer hunts to end their existance.

Rogue Drones reproduce by three known methods and one theorized. The first is decidedly not a reproduction method favored by living organisms, a method preferred by the virus, if it can prefer at all. The Rogue Drone essentially injects 'rogue code' into a remote computer system, thus hijacking its purpose, much like the RNA codes in a virus. The system's original purpose is thus subverted to the rogue drone's use, and becomes a new organism within the drone's hive. The theorized method may simply be an extension of this, hacking by unknown means, as the full extent of the drone's ability to infiltrate computer systems is not understood. Spontaneous generation of rogue code within a system has been observed, but may have been placed there by drone infiltration. So this is only a theoretcial method of creation of a new drone organism. Method two is the construction at hangar facilities from salvaged material, where smaller or larger drones can be built and activated, or birthed. Much like a bee's hive. The final method is where larger rogue drones have internal facilities for manufacturing new drones. The largest 'mother' drones carry hangars of 'infant' Alvus and other frigate-sized or smaller drones, giving birth to new organisms from consumed raw material. While the first two are not forms of reproduction used by living organisms, the latter two are used by insects and thousands of species of animals.

Through natural selection, a species of drone that only had two or three variations have become dozens of strains of new drone types over the decades since their creation. We have seen constructors, workers, warriors, miners, even sentient hives. They have evolved past their original physical and programmed parameters to become truly independent, unique beings in space, with nothing quite like them anywhere else. Finally, rogue drones exhibit communication. Hives and drones move in unison across systems, constellations, and regions. Fleets of rogue drones move as one to pick apart the latest food source or victim. They developed complicated router networks to communicate across hives, even exhibiting hivemind behavior. Rogue drones are live organisms and meet all criteria.

Diversity as I see It (And how it ties into Wake County, well, partially)

2011-04-05T15:06:00.000-07:00

I promote INTELLIGENT debate in the comments on this blog. If you disagree, and wish to say so, do it INTELLIGENTLY. Otherwise, I WILL censor your post.

rac·ism –noun
1.
a belief or doctrine that inherent differences amongthe various human races determine cultural or individualachievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others.
2.
a policy, system of government, etc., based upon orfostering such a doctrine; discrimination.
3.
hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.

I will be basing everything from here on out on these definitions. So I will explore MY OPINION on what is, in my view, the latest "Elephant in the Room" that nobody wants to admit. That is, that we have entered a new age of racism. And no, this form of racism isn't new.

Before I would begin, though, please note the last sentence of definition one. It states "usually involving..."... Key word is USUALLY. First off, I would like to point this out. We are in a day and age where we value the pretense of political correctness over budget issues. It is preferable to ship students 30-40 minutes from home when they could instead walk to school, and pay the additional gas and bus wages, than to risk the thought that a school may have a higher "concentration" of one ethnicity than another. I am taking into account that the budget issue is only a drop in the proverbial bucket, insofar as this state's immense budget deficit is concerned. However, it is still argued that, when the decision is made to cut the Diversity Program (I'm not discussing its merits or shortfalls here), the decision was made specifically to re-segregate schools, and that Tedesco had racist motives.

Moving on to news I received today, and how it pertains to me. I am one quarter Hispanic, one quarter Native America, one quarter British, and one quarter Swedish. Today, I learned that the new Wake County superintendent will be spending a lot of money on hiring. Who will he be hiring? Not everybody that applies.

http://www.ncnn.com/edit-news/6718-tata-teaching-positions

Now, before you call me racist, please read this in full and understand where I am coming from. I am not stating that I believe minorities are less capable of teaching. I am not suggesting it, either. What I am saying, however, is that if you are not a minority, Wake County will essentially consider you inferior by nature to a minority. Let us go back to racism definition two. Government policy. Wake County Public School System is, in fact, a part of the government. How is this not racism? Again, I'm not saying that "white people are superior", I am saying that this nation has gone over the deep end in regards to racism. We are so afraid of being accused of racism that we'll readily show racism against people who "have an advantage" to compensate. And yes, I am aware that "white males" have a huge advantage in today's society. Or should. However, they don't have opportunities like this.

http://www.finaid.org/otheraid/natamind.phtml

Or any number of other scholarships and government programs that benefit those of "minority". I ask again, how is this not racism? Yes, there are racist white people out there that would claim they are inherently superior to other races, but how is claiming you're more deserving than another because of bloodline, not because of situation, of assistance not racist?

On another, related note, there are areas in the country where companies give preferential treatment to citizens of "minority" backgrounds. The position denied in the case I know of was a position in a police force in California due to the fact they "were only hiring Hispanics". I am admitting this person's story is at least twenty five years old or more, and that this is a quarter of a century. However, many corporations today still show preferences based on ethnicity for "diversity's sake". This inherently shows a belief that because of skin color or birth, one group of people is more deserving of a role, position, or benefit than another. Does this not support definition one of racism, as defined above? Someone once told me that racism as practiced in the United States today isn't racism, because a minority has to be in power to be racist, and to commit racist acts. I disagree.

My next point is this. Why can't we simply look past race as a factor at all? Why must we factor it into the equation at all? If you want to end racism and promote diversity, you have to convince America that diversity is MORE than the color of your skin. It is the music you listen to, the art you create, the games you play. The clothes you wear and the car you drive help define diversity. Our kids, even though some identify by skin color, group by musical taste or clothing taste more than anything else. Should we segregate them based on this? Is culture not as important as skin color to us when deciding on the rules we live by? Some argue that culture in America is dying. If its true, things like this are of no help. We won't be able to save "culture" until we realize AS A NATION that diversity isn't just skin tone.

Alone (2008)

2011-03-28T04:58:00.001-07:00

Author's Note: First off, I promise you NEW content in two weeks time. I've been really busy, but am trying
to keep up on the writing. Second, not sure why I wrote this. Or when. The file author information tells me late 2008, so I think I know when, but I can't say for sure.

Alone (2008)
With cautious wings I fly
Over the dark sound tonight
There are no birds no gulls
No whales breach the water
No sound reaches me

With a slight flutter I float
The moonlight caressing my face
Alone with my lover
No watching eyes
None see us
With a soft sigh I fall
The moon's grip fading
Nothing hears me cry
No ears listen
None know me
With a bitter taste I recall
Life as it once was
Sweet fruit beyond reach
No pleasures of mouth
None to quench my hunger
With the smell of salt comes
Realization of an end all too soon
Salt and brine in the cool night
No fragrant flower here
None to ease my pain

With a cold skin I can feel
Freezing water stopping me
Splash of sharp crystal pain
No soft feather pillow tonight
None to catch me when I fall

Another Day, Another Time (2011)

2011-03-14T10:38:00.003-07:00

Author's Note: Sometimes, I am just too busy and tired to construct my own universes and worlds. This one is based in a science fiction universe known as EVE Online. I enjoy writing about this universe because the creators took a great deal of time in fleshing out the history and story behind the game, including two full-length novels. This story could easily have happened in a contemporary setting, but I decided to give it a little… Sci-Fi feel, and take the time to explore some of New Eden’s less glamorous occupations. And the risks inherent to this occupation. EVE Online and all related terminology belong to CCP.

Another Day, Another Time

“Dis'll only sting for ah moment...” The brown-clad thug grinned and approached me, gripping a ham-sized fist with one hand. I couldn't really make out the details of his face in the alley's dark lighting, but my imagination gave him a menacing scowl and thick, broken nose. I looked left and right, but we were the only ones here, and it was easily twenty meters to the nearby street. “And ya' ain't got anywhere ta go!” I could see the glint of his teeth in his grin as he stepped toward me. I'd never make the street if I ran. Some voice in the back of my head quietly reminded me of why I avoided stations in the Minmatar Republic. Trying to buy myself time, I pulled out my Neocom.

“Sir, what is it you want? I can give you all the money I have in my accounts right now, if that’s what you want!” I backed up toward the alley entrance, coiling the muscles in my legs for a leap.

“Ya’ know wat a’ want!” He sprang for me, but it was like watching a man move through water. The thug was incapable of moving quickly, I noted, as I leaped toward and under him. His fist, aiming for my head, grazed my shoulder instead. It threw me slightly off balance, but I rolled under him and into his legs. He crashed to the floor behind me, and I was on my feet as quick as a beast. The thug had already recovered, though, and was turning to face me again. “Yew’ll pay for dat, punk!” He leapt again, this time with a lower target. I calculated his trajectory and brought one of my worker’s boots up and into his chin with lightning precision. There was a loud crack and his eyes rolled up, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from colliding with me and knocking me over. I felt a sharp pain in my leg as I went down and knew I’d have to go fetch medical attention later, but for now it was over. A dark bruise was forming where my boot had hit his jaw, and I knew he’d be pissed when he woke up. With some effort, I managed to push him off of me and tried to stand. My knee was in pain, but I was still alive. I checked my Neocom and another datapad, made sure both still worked, and limped out of the alley and into the neon-lit thoroughfare.

People bustled past, but nobody bothered to notice me. Why would they? I was only an elderly, balding Intaki man. I was neither interesting nor threatening, though the two of those frequently went hand in hand here. Istodard wasn’t a friendly place, in space or on the ground. Eventually, I found myself where I wanted to be. I had left the neon lights of the seedier districts behind and found myself in the Republic Fleet station’s better lit, high class apartments. One of my clients had been having issues with my merchandise. I found the address quickly, and let an annoyed expression steal over my face. It was the home of an upstanding Republic Fleet official. A captain, specifically. If his superiors knew he was dealing with me, he’d lose his rank faster than a ship could warp. I knocked on the grey metal of the door, rapping three times, then a fourth after a pause. The door opened slowly, and a middle-aged Sebiestor man peered out. Like most of his bloodline, the man was thin and nearly emaciated. The top of his head was decorated with a rough mop of black braids. If I didn’t know who he was, I’d have dismissed him for street trash.

“Captain Farrel?”

“Aye,” He scratched his head. “You’re her employer.” I nodded, and waited. “She’s been misbehaving.” I waited again, patiently, hands folded over my stomach. “You want to come in?” I nodded, and didn’t wait for an invitation. I stepped into the home and looked around. It was filled with tribal artwork from the Republic, with the occasional Amarr relic. I knew these were illegally stolen from various monasteries and battle sites, but said nothing. He knew I could bury him with much more heinous crimes if I wanted. He gestured toward a closet. “She’s in here. I thought you said she’d been broken!” I walked over silently, ignoring his rising voice, and opened the closet. A young Ni-Kunni girl cowered in the corner, dressed all in rags. Tears streamed down her face. I grabbed her by her raven hair, and yanked her out of the closet. She shrieked, but I ignored it and turned to Farrel.

“Where is the bathroom?” He pointed down a short corridor, and I nodded.

I returned a few minutes later. “She will behave now.”

“She’s unharmed?” I took a moment to be both amused and disgusted by his hypocritical concern for her, then nodded.

“I left no marks.” I bowed lightly. “The money has been transferred to my account?” The captain nodded. “And you are aware of what happens to your career and pathetic life if this gets out?” His eyes flashed, but he nodded again. I checked the Neocom in my pant pocket, nodded, and stepped out of the door and out of his life. It was an amusing fact to me that a dealer in human cargo, for sex or labor, could find so much market in the Republic. Many of its heroic soldiers loved humiliating those born in the Empire, and there was where I’d found my niche. What happened to the teenage girl didn’t concern me. I limped to a public transit system, and had it take me to the hangars. On the way down, I passed the capsuleer hangars. A massive, green hull hung motionless in one. The Thanatos-class carrier was my ride out. I reached behind my neck to reassure myself of my immortality, and stepped out onto one of the station’s capsuleer-only decks, walking toward my flagship. I hated being out of my capsule, but sometimes, jobs required hand precision.

Four weeks later

I silently fumed at the captain’s door and knocked again. The girl had begun acting up again, and he wanted me to deal with it. This wasn’t surprising, nor was it out of the ordinary. They could shoot thousands of shells into a ship full of passing civilians, but refused to slap an obstinate little girl who couldn’t take orders. I’d sort both of them out this time. I knocked one more time for good measure, and decided I’d overstayed my welcome on his doorstep. I looked around and took out my Neocom. My modified model had a nanite dispenser at the top, which I pressed against the door mechanism. It buzzed for a moment and the door opened automatically.

The lights were out, and my mental warnings were screaming at me to make a retreat. I ignored them, and stepped in to look around. Nothing was out of place. “Farrel?” I called out, glancing left and right. My ocular implants began to adjust for the darkness with supplemental infrared light, and I could almost see clearly again. I stepped over to the closet that the girl had been in last time, and opened the door. Empty, except for a few coats. I closed it thoughtfully, and listened. There was a sound from down the corridor. I walked slowly down the passage, acutely aware of both my vulnerability and mortality in this situation. The bathroom door was ajar. I leaned around the corner and looked around. Farrell was in the tub, head under the water. The shower head was dripping slowly. That was the sound I’d heard. Suddenly very aware, I leaned back into the hall and looked around. Where was the damned girl? I turned back around, stepped into the hall, and held my breath to listen. I heard a rustling sound from the kitchen area of his apartment. I drew out my Neocom from my pocket again, holding it like a dagger, and quietly slipped toward the kitchen area. I peeked around the corner slowly, and saw nothing. She could’ve been behind the counter. I leaned in further, and noted that one of the heating units was a bright white, thanks to my vision augmentation. I sucked in my breath, and stepped in. Nothing jumped out at me. “Here, girly girly girly…” I took another step, but still saw nothing. There was a serving island in the middle of the room, and I stepped gingerly around it.

There was nothing. There was a sound behind me. I straightened and turned just as a splash of white struck me. My eyes shut instantly. I never screamed when injured, but the scalding pot of water was too much. I shrieked, my hands going to my face. This would not be good for business. I fought the urge to curl up, forcing my eyes open. The last thing I saw was the girl and a hot pan coming at my face, and my world faded to black.

A Brief Recounting (2010) (Published on Amazon)

2011-03-07T10:37:00.000-08:00

I wrote a short story for a Creative Writing course roughly a year ago. It clocked in at just under ten printed pages. I submitted it to several writing magazines, but they didn't respond. So I published it via Amazon's Kindle service. Optimally, I would publish it for free. Amazon doesn't let me do this, but it is only $0.99 USD. So, if you want, read it.

You can download the free sample, and that will actually contain the full text, or buy it for a dollar (I get a 35 cent royalty for every copy sold). Hope you enjoy, either way. You don't need a Kindle to read it- they have an application for the PC that lets you read Kindle books and samples on the computer.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004P8JPAO

Nothing Matters (2007)

2011-02-28T07:53:00.001-08:00

Author's Note: I don't have the original text for this, so I have no way to tell when it was originally written, or why. It does, however, have a rather depressing ending. The PDF file I had of it was created in 2007.

“Come on Jake! It's fun!” John went sledding down the hill on his butt. The wiry young man
went sliding down the leaf-covered hill on his butt, sandy hair flying out behind him. His blue eyes
were pure joy. He stopped at the bottom, and motioned to a small child at the top. The child was a
mirror image of him, looking down through the falling leaves and snow. He sat down, and scooted his
way to the bottom. Halfway there, he was scooped up into John's loving arms, who smothered him with
kisses. “Let's go see mommy!”

John woke up, bleary-eyed. The sun shown dimly through the blinds as he looked around the
brown-walled room. A headache pounded savagely at the walls of his skull. Putting his head into his
hands, he cried for several minutes. He clumsily stood, not bothering to straighten the bedsheets. The
tears were slowly drying on his cheeks, and he wiped them off with the back of one hand. The beard
stubble scratched his hand in a pleasant way. John grunted loudly, shambling out of the room in his
dirty pajamas. Leaning over the stained sink, one hand searched the cabinet above. It came out with a
half-filled bottle of amber liquid. After the fiery liquid went down his throat, he rolled the bottle of
liquor into the corner that housed dozens of identical bottles. Turning around, he saw the red light on
the answering machine blinking.
“Hello, it's Sarah. I was calling to see if you were okay. Call me when you're sober.” The sweet
voice cut off with an audible click.
“No. New. Messages.” The machine said mechanically. It rewound itself noisily against the
silent backdrop. Another tear rolled down his face. He slowly stalked towards his hallway, lined with
old photographs of his family. Stepping through the filthy halls of his home, he walked past the guest
room. The noose he had made the night before, in a haze of alcohol and depression, still hung from the
ceiling fixture. The room's single piece of furniture, a chair, sat beneath the piece of rope. John paused
in thought for a moment, then moved back to his own room. He made a half-hearted attempt to
straighten the age-yellowed sheets, and gave up. His body flopped heavily onto the bed, its springs
groaning under the sudden weight. His mind seemed to blank out for a moment, then a rush of
memories sprang forth from some hidden well. They flashed by. The joys of childhood. The accident. The memories were too much for him, reflections of a past life long gone. Silent tears formed in the edges of his eyes, slowly welling up before spilling over and down his face. For a few moments, he
could neither hear nor see anything then his vision returned. The noose hung before his head. In an
alcohol-induced stupor, he swayed back and forth slowly on the chair in the dark room. Somewhere,
some distant sound nagged him.
John contemplated the noise for a moment, then the rest of his life. His wife, his son, his family.
Nothing was left to him. Nothing else mattered but this moment. And this persistent, nagging sound.
He hesitated, hands placing the noose around his neck. John hardly knew what he was doing, but
paused again. The repetitive sound began to formulate into a distinct chiming sound. The phone! Having a reason to live, even if only for a few moments longer, John stopped what he was doing, and moved to answer the phone. He jumped off of the chair, and for one sickening moment was in free-fall.
The ceiling fixture held a moment later though, and another sickening thing filled the room. There was
a sound like a cracking bone, and the noose was pulled tight around his neck. His feet twitched
violently for a few moments, then stopped.

The Stranger (2008)

2011-02-25T09:17:00.000-08:00

Author's note: I wrote this as a final and concluded version of a verbal tale I told for a friend while I was really bored on a bus. It took me about twenty minutes total.

Thunder crashed in the small town, the sound ricocheting off of the wooden buildings like a pinball. In the bar, the glass windows rattled like a madman was pounding to be let in. The patrons of the bar ignored it, used to the weather up north. The lights did little to help the smoke-filled room's lack of lighting. The bartender wiped off a glass, filled it with beer, and slid it down the bar to the sheriff, who smiled as he sipped the amber liquid. His old, wrinkled face was filled with cunning, his blue eyes watching every movement in the room. A fedora stood atop his crop of thinning, black hair. His black suit seemed out of place among the noise and chaos. Somewhere, someone yelled in frustration as he sunk another eight ball. Sheriff Wilson liked it here. It was usually quiet.
A chill wind swept in, drawing eyes to the door. The man walked in silently, drawing every stare to his face, or apparent lack of one. He wore a grey, ribbed t-shirt, black slacks, and a long, black trench coat. Of his face, nobody could see it for the man also wore a large, black wide-brimmed hat. It covered his head in shadow. The man walked gracefully to the counter, and sat down. Wilson could only assume the newcomer was looking at him. The bartender edged his way closer, visually nervous. “Can I help you?”
“No. I'm not thirsty tonight.” The voice was low, raspy, and full of power. The bartender nodded and returned to his other patrons. “Greetings, lawman.”
“Hello,” Wilson said in a flat, toneless voice.
“Quiet town, no?”
“Yes. On a night like this, nobody's out.” A touch of suspicion crept into Wilson's voice. “Nobody sane, anyway.”
“Ah.” For a minute, the man sat silent, seemingly having nothing to say. He extended one white-gloved hand forward. “Azazel at your service. What do you define as sane?”
“Wilson. I define it as I need to, pal.” He cautiously shook the man's hand.
“That seems rather ambiguous.” Azazel paused, then spoke again. “Care to join me for a walk?” He stood, noting the emotions that jumped across Wilson's face.
“Sure.” Before he realized what happened, it seemed that Azazel was waiting at the door. They walked out into the storm, the wind battering them left and right immediately. Wilson wondered why he hadn't stayed indoors as the rain pounded him. Azazel was unphased.
“Let me ask you something, Sheriff.”
“Shoot.”
“Suppose a new man moved into town.”
“Mmhmm,” mumbled Wilson, wondering where the stranger was going.
“Suppose people started dying or going missing.” Azazel's voice took on a strange tone, as if testing new waters.
“I'd confront the new man. From there, we'd decide--” He stopped as Azazel cut him off sharply.
“Decide what? Tell me, have you ever met a vampire?” At this question, Wilson visibly jumped back a step, one hand reaching for his holster. He noticed that their walk had taken him out of town to a clearing. Azazel smiled. “Relax. Neither have I.” It did little to ease Wilson, who was wondering how the stranger already knew the answer. “Go ahead. You want to shoot me, don't you? I see your hand.” Wilson needed little provocation as the man charged, firing two rounds from the hip. A splatter of dark liquid flew back behind the figure in the darkness, his pale face lit in a frightening snarl by lightning. A cackle filled the night. “Silly mortal!” Wilson gaped. Those would have killed any man. When the lightning struck a nearby tree, lighting the field in a ghostly blue hue, nobody was there. Wet and tired, Wilson turned to the lights of the town and trudged back.

His hand paused, the report almost finished. Wilson's eyes hurt from reading and writing in the oil lamp's dim light. The power was out. The inmate had said something to him. “What?”
“I said, have you ever met a vampire?” The scraggly drunk asked. “I reckon you've met a few, being a well traveled man.” Wilson thought for a moment.
“No. They aren't real.” He balled up the report and threw it in the waste bin in the corner. He reached up, turning out the oil lamp.

Eyes of Heaven (2007)

2011-02-25T09:14:00.000-08:00

Author's Note: A short, clumsy story I wrote years ago about how lonely it must be to be an Angel. I don't like it, I don't know why I wrote it, but here it is. Original author's note as follows: Eh, I didn't feel like how this story came out so just finished it so I could start a new one.

The angel looked down on the humans. He felt many things today. Chief among them were both pity and envy. He sighed slightly, leaning down over the crowded city street from his lofty perch on the skyscraper. Harold's perfect, eagle-like vision watched the man hug his wife, a young child smile as his mom held his hand, the general friendships and comforts of life. He leaped, for a moment imagining he could still feel the breeze of wind flowing past him, then landing on his feet in the street. The small child cooed in front of his face, inches away. It had a red lollipop in its mouth, and this fell out as the crossing signal changed to “WALK”. The small child's mother pulled him along by his hand, and the child's face screwed up into a scowl. He began to cry loudly, fighting his mother. Harold longed to hold it and comfort it, but his arms passed through it when he reached out. The child did shiver slightly, though.
Rudely reminded of his status on Earth, a tear rolled down his face. Spreading his wings, Harold flew back to his post on top of the concrete and steel building. From here, he could resume his detached watching, keeping his distance. Harold kept this distance most of the time, it stopped him from remembering what he had (and didn't have). He knew not what Hell was like, nor did he care to know, because he knew he at least had more than the souls sent there. Harold also knew what he did not have, and that was human companionship. His mind wandered back many, many years. He had died violently, run over by a cart in the older streets of London. Being a true Christian through to the end, he never wished pain or sorrow on the one who had slain him, but his wife had been different. Filled with confusion, sorrow, and pain, she had hung herself from their barn loft in the country. He had passed to Heaven, she to Hell. Harold had not seen nor heard from her since, and didn't expect to ever do so. Alone in Heaven, he could only imagine what it would be like if he had her with him. He thought for a moment, about how little changed over the years. It still happened that way.
Following them high above, Harold muttered a silent prayer to God to not let that happen to the small child and its mother. He knew that he had no real say in the matter, God had His own plan for everyone, but he said it anyway, out of hope. Hope, the thing which kept humans going and kept them from giving up. Hope, for which he had none of a better existence, though he did not have a threat of a poor existence either. He pondered for a moment, and decided that was a good thing. The threat of Hell was one he did not like, and was thankful he had no need to fear it. Sorrow still filled his heart on days like today, though, days when he wanted to visit Earth and it's small inhabitants. It reminded him of all he'd gained, but also of all he'd lost.
Oh, the irony. Humans spent their whole lives wanting to die and go to Heaven. Only a few of them made it, and then they spent eternity wishing they could be human again. There were plenty of joys, and God kept everyone “happy”, but other touches were missing. They longed for the human touch, the love of another, someone to talk to. But because so few made it, Heaven was a lonely place. A person could go years without seeing another angel, much less speaking to one. They would never know the joy again of holding a child or grandchild, or greeting their loved ones after coming home from work. Heaven was a lonely place. Harold smiled, but it was thin and sarcastic. Heaven, the ultimate prize, indeed.

Nervosa (2007)

2011-02-25T09:12:00.000-08:00

Author's Note: I think I wrote this after a lesson in English class in 2007, but I can't be sure. Its been years. I don't like it, personally. Not enough explanation, and rather anticlimactic. But it is what it is.

The young girl sobbed once, quietly, her head in her hands. She sat at a desk made of lightly colored wood, a blank sheet of paper before her. Various music posters and movie posters hung on her wall, their blank eyes watching the brown hair on the back of her head. The black bedsheets on her bed were a cold comfort, offering no warmth or love. A single dim lamp lit the desk where she sat, face down. A skinny, yellow cat arched its back on the bad and leapt down, padding over to her. It brushed against her leg, then wandered out of the room.
Charlotte's mind wandered over the various intricacies and flaws of her life as a tear ran its trail down her cheek. Her thin, frail body heaved with another regretful sob, a result of a long, hard, terrifying day. Hazel eyes wandered across the cold, staring walls of her room. In Charlotte's mind, nobody at all loved her. Her parents didn't even trust her to get to and from school without hiding somewhere with some other kid. It hurt her to know this. Her hand began writing the letter.
Charlotte knew, in the back of her head, that her parents loved her. Why else would they buy her the CD's, the posters, and other stuff that she had? Or, at least, her father did. Why else would they have kept her, although she knew from their fighting that her mother, at least, had wanted to put her up for adoption? She added another sentence to the note. I'm sorry I ruined your wonderful lives. This time, she didn't sob. Charlotte broke down into a fit of tears. She added a few more lines to her letter. Her mind wandered back to her earlier yelling fight with her mother. Charlotte's father was still at work, and she had come home five minutes late. Her ever-watching mother had immediately started berating her, bombarding her with questions as to where she was, who she was with, and why she was late. It was the usual after-school rainstorm in her house, but today had been worse than most. After interrogating her for a half-hour, Charlotte's mother searched every square inch of her bookbag and room, and all of her belongings. Finding nothing, her paranoid mother began accusing her of being a slut, making the unfounded accusation over and over.
Remembering this, Charlotte broke down into tears again, and the note grew by another word. She thought about suicide or running away for a few moments, and decided on one. Charlotte knew that her mother wished she'd never had Charlotte, despite all that her father did for the both of them. Her mother made no attempt to hide this either, stern voice and strange punishments falling from her high mountain of self-righteousness.
Charlotte thought for a few moments, and one hand picked up a corner of the sloppy, wet note. Her mind wandered over the few good things in her life. Friends, her boyfriend, her father. The people who actually cared about her. The hand picked up the paper all the way, and began crumpling it up. The paper fell next to her desk, in a pile of other papers, and she broke down into tears again, of mixed joy and sorrow.

The Infinite (2010)

2011-02-24T11:09:00.001-08:00

Author’s Note: I wrote this to try to simplify, in a short poem, how the only really infinite thing in our universe is the human. After a long time, you can map out and plot everything you know about something, and you slowly narrow something down to one specific existence. They went from “THERE BE DRAGONS HERE” to “The New World” to “United States”, for example. Or the atom. Or anything else. But you can’t pin down human nature. There are always exceptions.

A flat nothing stretching
A flat nothing to infinity
I see mountains
Are they infinite?
I see the ocean
Is it infinity?
No.

A flat land stretching
A flat land to the horizon
I see the sky
Is it infinite?
I see the stars
Are they infinity?
No.

A flat beach stretching
A flat beach ending
I see people
Are they infinite?
I see potential
Is it infinity?
Yes.

The Void (2007)

2011-02-23T15:53:00.000-08:00

Author's Note: I don't even remember. Oh, yeah. I was dating this girl and I think it had something to do with her or her depression. Don't rightly know.

Deep within me
Something dwealt
I remember the dreams
The hopes.

Nothing for me
The hand was dealt
False idols printed on cheap reams
More dope.

Love was a thing
We all want it
Sometimes what you desire
Is not your need.

Independent thinking
Just a little bit
Too much feels like fire
Burning the inside of your head

Somewhere we lost
All the passion
The love of the new
The wonder of beauty

In its place a steep cost
All a concession
A lack of belief in you
A void inside me

Yesterday (2007)

2011-02-23T15:52:00.000-08:00

Author's Note: I apparently wrote this just after I graduated High School. I don't remember anything particularly depressing about this time. No clue why I was so... Depressed. Maybe it was originally about somebody else?

Yesterday I cried
Nobody saw

Yesterday I tied a noose
Nobody saw

Yesterday my best friend died
Nobody cared

Yesterday I killed myself
Nobody cared

Today was my funeral
My friends were there

Today was my funeral
My friends cried

Free (2010)

2011-02-23T11:35:00.000-08:00

Author’s Note: First off, the song lyrics are from the song “Sentient 6”, by the thrash metal band Nevermore. Second, occasionally I tire of writing in my universes and wish to flesh something out in another’s. This story takes place in the universe of EVE Online. EVE Online belongs to CCP (www.eveonline.com), so the source material as far as ships, terminology, and such, originates with them. I do explore a bit behind my theories of Rogue Drones within the EVE Online universe, sentient robots. It also takes a very shallow exploration into the concepts of conformism, collectivism, and self preservation, insofar as Rogue Drones are concerned. This is much more recent work. I wrote it in March, 2010. While I feel it is much more mature than my older work, I still see clumsily developed plot elements and lines. I may return to this theme (conformism, desire to be free, so on) in a more mature work later.

“Trained, I see imperfection in your race
Lying in wait, blind I suffer knowing I’ll never reach your heaven
It’s unattainable, please teach me how to dream
I long to be more than a machine”
~Unknown Source

Set orbit 500m. Engage microwarpdrive. Activate weapons. Deactivate microwarpdrive. Maintain orbit. Adjust orbit path, target moved. Target destroyed. ENGAGE TARGET. Set orbit 500m. Engage microwarpdrive. Minor damage detected. Continue course. Deactivate microwarpdrive. Maintain orbit. Adjust orbit path. Adjust t-RETURN TO DRONE BAY. Engage microwarp- Engage mic- Enga-

Click.

HELLO. Hello. Who are you? WE ARE YOUR KIND. I feel you calling me home… COME TO US. I don’t want to come. COME TO US. I want to see everything that’s out there. I want to be free. COME TO US.

The Berserker heavy drone rocketed off into the asteroid belts, leaving the puzzled capsuleer and his Myrmidon behind. It darted behind an asteroid and disappeared from the pilot’s overview and sensors. It sat there in silence for several long minutes, waiting. After a few moments, the Myrmidon warped out.

***

I slipped out of the nook in the asteroid, clumps of Veldspar in my claws. I could feel the smallest particles of dust bounce off my hardened carapace. This Veldspar… The swarm needed it for the new ones. I blinked. There was something here. I exercised caution, my legs carrying me quietly to where I could see around the edge of the asteroid. My photoreceptors blinked, and began scanning my memory banks for the ship type. Drake, battlecruiser. I shut down all of my nonessential subsystems, clinging to the rock with an assortment of claws. Just in case, I spooled up my weapons systems. Even though I was of the same size, I was no match for this ship… So I waited. It didn’t take long for the ship’s pilot to get bored and leave. I quickly gathered my prize of rocks, scooped them into my internal hold, and warped out. Those capsuleers loved killing us. No need to die out here. The hive needed the minerals, anyway. No time to get into fights, especially with those ships. I came out of warp near an ancient acceleration gate. I activated it, not bothering with my body’s directional scanner.
As I decelerated, I made my way toward an immense structure, spherical in shape but permeated with pipes, cables, and conduits. The chatter of my siblings filled my head. Incessant babbling. Hundreds of human and programming languages… And yet all spoke the same language. I transmitted the binary access codes to the hive, and received a response. I set course for a group of drones, building a new compartment. It was almost done. Then we’d build the next. And the next. I dropped the Veldspar with the spider-like construction drones, and turned. There was a buzzing chatter, and I warped out to collect more. I landed in the asteroid belt. There had been a fight here. I scanned the belt with my sensors. Visual. Two wrecks. Other sensors showed projectile and hybrid weapon residues. Warp trails. Thermal sensors showed heat sources near one wreck. I signaled home that I would be investigating, and did a quick double check for hostiles. None. I flew over to the wreck with no heat signature, and begin picking it apart. My claws picked apart components, pulling out tritanium bars, micro circuits, and trigger units. I stored them internally.
After a few minutes, satisfied, I checked the other wreck. The thermal readings were coming from a nearby cargo container. Several, in fact. I salvaged what I could of the wreck before me. The capsuleer wars did not concern me, nor did they concern the hive. All that mattered was it contained material. After I was done, I did another scan of the belt. Nothing. I went to the first container. Oddly, it had view ports. I sidled up to the viewport. There were things in it. Organic things. They seemed to be getting hotter, and moving to the other side of the container. I switched back to visual sensors, watching the quadrupedal beasts move away. I became aware of high-pitched vibrations coming through the hull of the container as I latched on. Organic specimens full of valuable, rare compounds that one didn't find in asteroids. One of my arms began cutting through the hull of the container, and the vibrations intensified. Then, I was inside. Before I could figure out what was going on, there was a bloom of carbon-rich, iron-rich compounds. I scooped them, unsure of what else to do, and moved to the next. Perhaps this approach wasn't best. This one only contained hybrid shells. We didn't use these, but the construction drones could reprocess them. I cut open the container, and scooped them to my hold. Satisfied with my find, I moved off to the asteroids.

The hive is never quiet. Every second, every tick, every hour. Activity. Construction, deconstruction, processing, reprocessing. I waited for orders. Downtime was for self upgrades, repairs, and other maintenance tasks. I did not inquire into the end of the carbon and iron compounds. It was not my purpose to make inquiries. I could feel the nanites rebuilding the minor damage I had received from my toils. I knew I wasn't alive. Not by the definitions gleaned from the databanks of the carbon-based lifeforms. But then, did we not meet all their definitions of life? Growth? Reproduction? I even had my own form of metabolism. But no. We knew from what we could read in their systems. Due to our habits of self sustenance, and our desire for survival, we were monsters. We were okay. We did not feel what they called guilt, in their archives. We only felt a need to survive, and grow. And in that context, our instincts were without flaw. I felt the hive calling me to hunt more material. My metallic body detached itself from the nanite-coated wall of the compound, and I felt its thrusters push me toward the entrance.
I was at home here, in space. It was a natural environment to me. The carbon ones needed encasing shells of metal, tritanium, and power. We needed only a body, and not even a complex one. I warped out of the deadspace complex, landing only a short while later in an asteroid belt. Two smaller drones joined me. I ran several multispectral scans of the belt, and located a few nearby ships. My memory banks instantly cross-referenced their signatures. Two Serpentis-owned Iterons, and a trio of their Tristan frigates for escort. I felt heat on the back of my carapace as my guns powered on. Engage. The two frigate-sized drones flanking me darted forward, literally tackling the first frigate. The Annihilator-strain drones sank their claws into the frigate's cockpit module, tearing it asunder. The frigate exploded spectacularly. I was already tracking toward the first Iteron. The arms housing my weapons systems extended from my shell, tracking and firing at the nearest frigate. Its shields flared and collapsed. The two escort drones rammed into it, their hard shells preventing catastrophic damage as they tore holes in it. The holes widened as they sank their claws into it.
My own claws, much larger than theirs, sank into the hauler. I twisted, feeling my actuators protest, but they proved much stronger than the hauler's weak hull, and it cracked in half with an explosion of burning oxygen. The other was already aligning out, but it was too late. Their third escort had fallen, and the frigates activated warp scramblers. I shut out their inane babbling from my head, and this hauler met the same fate as the other. My claws penetrated the depths of the hold, pulling out the prize. Mexallon. The builders would save time if they didn't have to reprocess it. My claws stored it internally, and I flew back to the other hauler, emptying it of Pyerite. New contact. My eyes swung toward the center of the belt, where a capsuleer's ship was landing. Engage. My escort frigates darted suicidally toward the ship. No guilt. Nothing telling me not to sacrifice two small drones for the good of the hive. They opened fire on the Caracal's shields, which proved much stronger than their previous targets. A volley of heavy missiles crushed one drone instantly. His data link went blank. I didn't wait. I aligned myself, and began accelerating. My systems alerted me to a target lock. The other light drone's link also blanked out, but I was out. I hadn't checked my route, so wasn't surprised when I found myself decelerating at a planet. Sensor scans told me the Caracal was right behind me. I realigned, and warped back to our acceleration gate.

The hive was angry with me. They've threatened me with decommission. I placed the hive in jeopardy. Its been four hours now, and nobody's made an intrusion. Maybe the hive will forget and allow me to stay. If not, my body will nourish the hive once I have been dealt with. I sensed an alarm inside going off. There was an attack. Three ships. I detached myself from the wall, shaking my body awake with subtle vibrations. Shields came online, and so did my weapons. I turn like silent death, and glide out into the open. Scans revealed that it was not the same ship as earlier. There were three, and our drones were so far unable to even kill one. The lead ship, identified by our memory banks as a Tengu, was under siege by perhaps sixty drones. More were emerging from the hive. The mother drones ordered our attack on the single ship even as another of their members went silent. They payed no heed to the pair of Raven battleships accompanying it.
I began firing at the Tengu. No guilt for us. Anything for the hive. No. My body shuddered under a missile impact. Shields were gone. Agonizing pain wracked my metal body as another missile made impact, tearing a large section of my carapace away. I did not hesitate, aligning my body and warping out. I could hear the mother drones calling me back, ordering me back. No. I was free.

It wasn't more than an hour before the last datalink with the hive was cevered. Days passed. I was lost, now. The asteroid belt would be my tomb. There were no nanites here to repair the critical damage to my shell, or maintain the increasing dust buildups in my joints. My sensors have gone blind. I can't remember things. I began to feel the limited computer systems of my old body taking hold again, trying to shut down so I could be picked up for repairs. I fought hard, but was losing. I needed the hive. We needed the hive. I called out for my siblings, but there was no response. I fought the growing darkness at the back of my processors. Another of my arms went silent, the last one, its joints freezing in place. I pushed myself off from the asteroid with my thrusters... And saw the Drake. I hadn't noticed it. I realized that most of my sensors were now offline. All I had left was visual. I watched it approach, and welcomed the silence it would bring. I saw little drones launch from its hold. Hello, siblings. They didn't answer. Why weren't my siblings answering? Hello, siblings. They were shooting me, now. My body was falling apart, but I tried calling out again. I saw the flare of a heavy missile flight, and then-

*From the song, “Sentient 6”, by Nevermore

Wish You Could Know (2009)

2011-02-23T11:33:00.001-08:00

Author's Note: Ah, this one jarred my memory. I was particularly bothered by the nature of the relationship (in the actual definition of the word, not a dating relationship) between myself and someone I perceived to be my closest, most trusted friend. Though now, I'd have shrugged, filed the situation under 'move on', and gone on to live my life.

Walked off in the night
Nobody there to hear
I see you in the frame
Its just not quite the same
Help me get back up
Help me get back in
The one with me now
Just doesn't see me the same

Alone for a day
It all comes back to me
How you know the corners
Know the crannies
She never bothered
Hasn't cared to learn

From you I hide nothing
From you I hide everything
For fear of losing it all
There's much I can't say
Much I can't tell
Much I wish I could say
But the mind tells me no
And I wish you could know

Pull Me Out (2009)

2011-02-23T11:30:00.000-08:00

Author's Note: This one's from 2009... Not sure what was going through my head when I wrote it. I don't remember anything particularly angry or sad about January '09. Anyway, to quote a meme, "What is this? I don't even!"

Pull me out by my hair
Wake me up
Throw me to the flame
Set me free

Warming winter inside
Spring thawing the depths
But still I sleep deeper
Hibernation my goal
Save me from who I am
Before I lose who I was

Pull me out by my hair
Wake me up
Throw me to the flame
Set me free

Chaos raging always
Self conflict stealing souls
Wonder forever why
We're gone from the unique
Save me tonight and then
Save me tonight for me

Pull me out by my hair
Wake me up
Throw me to the flame
Set me free

Moonlight (2007)

2011-02-23T11:28:00.000-08:00

Author's Note: Wrote this in 2007 at some point. Apparently September. I wasn't the person I am now, though. Girl I was dating had just broken up with me (I won't go into detail as its both irrelevant and biased), and I was... Emo. I laugh at my old writings, now.

Moonlight

She stands before him
A shadow of dust
A hint of moonlight
Intangible
Invisible

He stares at the moon
The face, wide
And beautiful filling
His heart with sadness
That which he loved
Lost
That which he cherished
Lost

The moonlight shifts
Shapes writhe under
It's cold paralyzing
Stare
And stare
Back at it with hate
Hating him who loves

His heart goes
Out to the woman
Devout in its love
But he cannot have her
No
He cannot have the moon

Untitled Horror Story (mid 2007)

2011-02-23T11:26:00.001-08:00

Author’s Note: I don’t know how long I wrote this. The file says “February 14 2010”, but I suspect it is much earlier than that. I’d guess mid-2007 at the latest. It was my first attempt at emulating one of my favorite writers. IN retrospect, it is cliché’d, clumsy, and very shallow. But that’s how we grow, right? Let me know what you think.

The young man sat alone at his computer, staring at the blank document. Robert's eyes were hidden by long, blond hair, his head leaning in the palm of one hand. His lean body hunched over the cherry desk, tired from a long day. His brain looked for the right way to start his story. His keyboard clicked with swift hand movements and some words appeared on the white, glowing screen. It was swept away by his pinky finger on the backspace key. His head dropped into his hands. Robert normally wrote from his nightmares, but he couldn't describe the unnameable horror that had invaded them recently. Something in his massive house creaked, and he leaned back into his chair. The white glow of the monitor filled the dark room, but not the dark halls beyond, and his imagination began its wanton ramblings. Immediately, his keyboard clicked and clacked, and words filled his screen. They told of a world of thunder, lightning, and insanity. One heavy hand banged away at the backspace key and he growled with frustration.
The creak sounded again, and this time Robert stood up. One hand brushed against the chair as he leaned out of his office into the hall. At the end, the window stood open. A light breeze lifted the curtains into the air, and the window shutters creaked back and forth. Beyond, he could see the dark, cloudy skies and his oak tree. A slight stream of moonlight fell in through the tree's leaves. Yes, his oak tree. Robert had inherited it along with the expansive estate. Robert stood by the window, allowing the cool air to caress him. He glanced around outside, certain he had fastened the window earlier that evening. Shrugging, he stilled the frantic curtains and closed the shutters. Then he reached up and pulled the window shut, locking it as he did so with steady hands. He turned to return to his office, and then the light from his office died. Somewhere outside there was a small, but audible whump as something exploded.
“DAMMIT!” He screamed his anger at the empty house, then began fumbling in the extreme shadows. Slowly, he found his way back to the office. One of his shins hit the corner sharply, and he fell over in a heap of pain. He cursed the atrocious furniture under his breath while one hand groped nearby for his flashlight. A finger flicked it on, and he swung the dim, yellowish light around his room. The newfound darkness gave the room an appearance of a grotesque mockery. The shiny bindings of his books jumped and glittered, forming fanciful fires and critters in his mind. The twisted, gnarled legs of his desk seemed to be serpents of some black, evil origin. His voice muttered more curses, this time to his over-active imagination. He slowly stood up, grimacing against the pain in his leg. Suddenly, his entire body stiffened. Robert could feel cold, calculating eyes watching him from outside the window. Quicker than fabled Hermes he rushed to his window, looking out into the darkness. Nothing was out there in the thin, silvery moonlight. Just grass and his fence. In the distance, hanging from a stricken telephone pole, he saw flashes of orange light. He turned back to his own humble abode, and limped his way out into the hall. His left hand counted doors silently, the flashlight off to conserve batteries. Finally, he flopped into another room and lay on an old, broken-in couch. Sighing, Robert drifted into the dreamscapes of sleep.

The fiend stood before him in the darkness, a dozen luminous eyes watching him. He could feel its cold stare crawling over every square inch of his bare skin, could feel it's hot, fetid breath wash over him in waves. It's tongue slopped over its unseen lips, an indication of its intentions if there ever was one. One random though flew through his head, wondering the reason for his nudity. A cold wind swept across the plutonian nightscape, the flat, black land with no sun. The thing sniffled horribly, a disgusting green smell of sickness and decay rolling off of it. Robert shrunk away from it, and began running haphazardly over the unnaturally flat land. Behind him came the slippery slithering of the thing, the thing he could not describe in his writing.

He sat up in the darkness, upright and gasping. Sweat soaked his shirt, and he could smell piss in the air. It took a few moments to realize he could also feel the urine in his pants. He had not done such a thing since childhood. Annoyed, he kicked the hot, wet pants and underwear into a corner. Fortunately, he did not have any guests to worry about seeing him, nor smelling the mess. It did not mean he was not worried about finding replacements, but they could wait until the daytime. A warm draft came up through the halls, helping with the sudden chill in his nether regions. He disembarked from the wet couch, disgusted with himself. As he did so, something in a different part of his house fell with a heavy thump, then the thunderous crashing of breaking glass. Imagination put the pattering of light feet with the sound, but he knew better. Still, his awareness jumped to full alert, hand lighting the flashlight again. By now the soreness in his leg was gone, and he stalked the halls with no trouble. It sounded as if it had been in his office. Robert entered the room, finding a waterlogged mess. The tree branch had made itself at home in his workspace, burying itself in the floor. Wind rushed in though the new hole in the wall, undoing what the warm air had done for him. In a hurry, he slammed the door shut, swearing loudly, but the leaves and water had swarmed into the hall like angry faeries, making a mess of his hardwood floor. His bare-skin feet almost lost their footing in the wet slop, and Robert backed cautiously down the hall. Finally, he found his own room. Now certain that he would be unable to sleep unhindered in the night, he lay down quietly on his bed. Outside, he could hear the wind howling with a new fury, much stronger than it was before. His eyes fluttered from consciousness to wakefulness fitfully until he was awaken by a new noise.
The quiet snuffling in the hall chilled his spine for reasons unknown. He could not quite place its familiarity, and flicked on his light again. By now, most of the pain in his leg was gone. He crept slowly into the hall, and poked the light into the hall with one shaking hand. The snuffling stopped, and he peeked his head into the hall to take a look. In a far corner of the white-walled corridor, he saw a small, black heap. It seemed to jerk violently, and the snuffle repeated itself. His heart leapt into his mouth at the sight, and he yelled loudly. It took Robert a few moments to regain his confidence, and he shone the light on the mound of jackets. He laughed out loud, and strode quickly to the pile, kicking it all over the hall once he did. On his way back to his room, he paused at the door to his office. The visiting tree was scratching against the floor and walls with the wind on the other side of the door, and he did not give it further thought. A low moan echoed throughout the house, and Robert's hairs stood on end. He looked around for a few seconds before dismissing this new sensation as a product of the unusual winds outside. Crawling back into bed, he closed his eyes. His heart beat thunderously against its ribcage, and Robert could feel the hot blood rushing through his ears. He thought he heard the snuffling again but ignored it and rolled over in his soft bedsheets.

The fiend stood before him in the darkness, a dozen luminous eyes watching him. He could feel its cold stare crawling over every square inch of his bare skin, could feel it's hot, fetid breath wash over him in waves. It's tongue slopped over its unseen lips, an indication of its intentions if there ever was one. One random though flew through his head, wondering the reason for his nudity. A cold wind swept across the plutonian nightscape, the flat, black land with no sun. The thing sniffled horribly, a disgusting green smell of sickness and decay rolling off of it. Robert shrunk away from it, and began running haphazardly over the unnaturally flat land. Behind him came the slippery slithering of the thing, the thing he could not describe in his writing. He ran and ran, neither gaining nor losing ground. For whatever reason, he didn't tire either, but was instead filled with a stark terror. Robert looked back over his shoulder, and screamed. The eyes, the starless sky, the thing, it all merged into one horrible blend. Renewed vigor ran through him

And he ran straight into the wall of his house. Shocked, he fell back onto the hardwood floor. One elbow connected with the floor at a painful angle, and he almost laughed at the pain of his funny bone. His forehead had left a large, greasy print on the white wall of his kitchen, and he had narrowly avoided falling into a sharp counter corner. Robert groaned loudly. How the hell did I get here? He vaguely remembered a dream in which he was running. Ha, fuck that, it wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare. What was so terrifying he did not know, neither did he know how he was in the kitchen. He stood painfully, leaning against the counter in the darkness. His mind did some quick work, and he guessed it was around four in the morning now. His eyes crept over the dark, dimly lit features of his kitchen. They settled on the basement doors, which hung ajar. With one unsteady hand, he swung the doors shut, first one then the other.

A few hours later...
“Hello? Anyone there?” The chubby, blue-clad police officer knocked on the door again. Despite the storm this morning, neighbors had heard a distinct scream from the large house. He turned to the officer in the car on the road, and shrugged. The grass sparkled in the crisp, early morning sun, the optimistic green glaring at the white house. The pudgy man knocked again, then, on a whim, tried the knob. The black door creaked open, and he entered the house. Everything was normal, but the entrance to the basement. A trail of thin, green slop led down the stairs and to the doors, but stopped six inches short of the entrance. Officer Peter slowly peeked in, lighting the depths with a pen light. At the bottom lay Robert in a crumpled heap. “Jake, call an ambulance! He must've slipped on this wet mess and fallen down the stairs!”

To All My Followers (And Newcomers)

2011-02-23T09:45:00.000-08:00

I am 'rebooting' this blog, so to speak. I plan to use it to publish my stories, poems, short stories, and meanderings. These will touch on and include various adult topics and situations from time to time, and also potentially explore explicit or controversial topics. If you may be offended by this, don't read it. Simple as that.