The Public Pool Planet

This comes from another prompt from r/writingprompts.  

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Location, location, location.  That’s what they always say.  Too bad most locations across the system suck.  There are a few gems out there, but I have found more dirt heaps than diamonds in the rough.  Don’t even talk to me about turd polishing.  My employers would rather pay to send me to another planet than consider maybe putting a little bit of resources into terra-forming something with only slightly less than average potential.  They’re all about super luxury.  They won’t settle for less than the best.

Lucky for them, I am the best.  As an interstellar real estate agent, I’ve clocked more extra-terrestrial hours than most.  This was the third planet I was visiting this week.  Like most uninhabited planets, there are no convenient platforms to put my ship down on.  This one was no different.

Narrowly surviving the bumpy landing down the hillside, I stepped out of the ship, surveying tools in the bag at my side. I immediately noticed the nice bright light from both suns glaring down at me, from either side of the horizon, no less.  That would just be excellent for some even sunbathing pretty much any time of the day.  Mark that one down as a definite positive.  Looking good.

Dumping the big duffel bag on the ground, I zipped it open and started pulling out my tools.  Barometer, humidity monitor, my big old dumb camera for taking snapshots that could potentially be used for post cards and brochures in the future.  Just the necessary stuff.  This was a class B planet, meaning it could sustain surface water without evaporating it or freezing it.  Coincidentally, the B in class B stands for beach.  On the descent, I noticed a few good areas they could fill up with water and plop a resort by.  Strike up another point.

The final test is determining how much oxygen content is in the atmosphere to make an estimate how much it would cost to make it breathable.  The sensor ticked away for a bit, before popping up its reading- 12%.  Not bad.  However, I couldn’t help but notice the next reading up… chlorine, at 15%.  I’m not sure people coming to a beach resort planet would be pleased to find their blue paradise smelling like a public pool.

So much for that one.  Looks like we’re headed somewhere else.

The Light in the Night

When you find yourself stranded on a desert island,

One of the things you notice is the night sky, completely obscured by any unnatural light.

After the first night, you might be content with never seeing another headlight, or streetlight, or house light again.

Until, on the horizon, you see the light from a ship.

The Duel

“Mr Bradbury.  You’re being charged with the death of a Mr. Marshall.  How do you plea?”

“Guilty as charged.  May I go now?”  He leans back in the chair, tapping his foot expectantly, arms crossed.

“Oh no.”  The judge chuckles.  “You’ve just admitted to the killing of another human being.  We must now discuss sentencing.  You won’t be going anywhere for a while, Mr. Bradbury.”

“I killed that man fair and square.”  He admits confidently.

“Oh?”  The judge cocks his eyebrow at the aloof defendant.  “Please explain.”

“It was a duel.  Mr. Marshall knew what he was getting into.  Heck, I could have been the one shot, and he would be here before you today.  Either way, we agreed it would be the most proper way of going about it.  I believe we resolved any issues between the two of us.  We need not discuss this any further.”  He says, shaking his head emphatically.

“Mr. Bradbury.”  The judge leans forward menacingly.  “We have a witness who has attested to seeing you shoot Mr.  Marshall, clearly though the heart with a .45 Colt Single action revolver.”

“I would hope he would have seen it.  You need a witness to affirm the duel, after all.”  Bradbury turns around, scanning the audience for familiar faces.

“Mr. Bradbury.  We take murder very seriously here.”

“Murder?  No, no.  I’ve already explained.  It was a duel.  There was no cold blood, no malice.  Tell me, who is pressing charges?  If it’s Mr.Marshall’s estate, they should have to back down.  They belong to me now, after all.  That was one of the conditions of the agreement.”

“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Bradbury.”  The judge grinds his teeth.  “The district attorney is the one pressing charges.  No amount of negotiation between you and Mr. Marshall will change the fact that killing somebody with clear intention is illegal here in the United States of America.  In addition, the disbursement of any property as a result of this ‘arrangement’ may be nullified based on our findings, which may include making sure they are properly notarized… among other things.  I’m assuming, in your moment of perfectly rational thinking, you got these terms in writing, am I correct?”

“Of course.  They’re even signed in blood.” The defendant replies, matter-of-factly. “They’re as good as anything.”

The judge purses his lips.  “I see.  I think we may have to suspend this trial for another day while we… make sure of certain things.”

“Listen.”  Bradbury speaks up.  “If we just head out back of the court house right now… I’m sure we can find a way to settle this, like gentlemen.”  He nods his head at the judge, making gun motions with his fingers.

“Bailiff.”

Works of Old And New

March is here!  In two days it’s my birthday.  I’m turning 26.  That also means it’s been one year since I originally took my job at that fateful, greasy deli.  We’re also almost at 50 followers here on the blog!  Thank you all for continuing to read the stuff I put out!

I’m going through the final bit of work putting final edits on Mother of Mars, which has been in progress for about a year now.  I hope to have it ready to put up on Amazon Kindle in the coming weeks.  Incidentally, it’s the perfect timing, being that the Spring Camp Nanowrimo session is right around the corner.  I have an idea of what to write about, but that’s secret for now.

That means I have a month to pretty much write whatever else- and I want you guys to decide what it might be about.  Option 1 is going back to Hell To Pay– the violent, bloody, eldritch inspired historical fiction.  Option 2 is Outland– my more recent writing project, about a man and his mech, exploring a post apocalyptic world.  (If you haven’t gotten a chance to read some of these, click those links so you can catch up on them!) Option 3 is to do more short stories- although these will come no matter what you choose!

Remember to keep any eye out for posts regarding MoM going up! I might even try and arrange a contest of some sort to win free copies.

Until there, here’s a video of my friend and I trying to make food while editing the book.

Rhetoric

People say there’s an “Eye In The Sky.”  They mean a satellite out there orbiting the planet, spaying on us.  There’s other ways it could be happening, but obviously the biggest example of it would be the worst.  I don’t know if spying is the right word.  Collecting information. Keeping the peace.  Providing security.  I don’t believe it.  This isn’t 1984.  Nevertheless, I still close my window shades at night.

I’m a writer.  I write… well, propaganda.  I call it that because it is.  It tells people what they should think, bypassing their good sense along the way.  It’s a good way of getting people to follow someone, because they eventually find themselves either seeking similar information or following said information to defy whatever bad guy it creates.

My bad guy, defined by the articles I write, is those people who want to tell the world that spying on us is bad.  Yes, I know what I’m writing.  Perhaps that’s why I close my curtain- so that nobody sees me rolling my eyes as I type out the endless dribble that goes out to millions of people each day.

Sometimes I start to believe what I’m writing about.  You kind of have to convince yourself in order to not sound phony, despite my best efforts.  Perhaps that would be the best course of action.  If I could fill my papers with so much innuendo, so much hyperbole, so much fictional factation, the people who take it seriously would no longer be able do so.  Perhaps it would get past my editors who simply want to see the buzz words in there.  After all, they are brainwashed and desensitized to the point that it doesn’t even effect them anymore.

Perhaps, it could travel straight to the source- the people who are making these decisions about which I write.  Perhaps they would sit down, read it, and realize just how ridiculous they’re being.  Nah, that could never happen.