Herding Cats

The school district, over the summer, changed all student passwords from something easily memorable to the dates of their birth.  It may come as a surprise to you, but many kids 10 and under aren’t actively memorizing their birthday.  I know dear, it was two weeks ago, but we’ve got to be more precise than that.  (This is not their fault.  They’re lovely.)

Happy Monday Greasers!

Grip

“Please hold out your arm.”  The man in the white coat scooted forward slightly, legs of the stool grinding irritatingly against the gritty tile surface.

Lyla sat up neatly against the edge of the bed, paper rustling under her seat.  Running her palm against the opposite arm, she could feel her touch stimulating the tiny hairs atop her skin.  The end of limb was blunt, rounded over just above where her elbow would have been, old wound sealed shut with a tiny line of skin, scar tissue rather.

“It’s healed well.  The x-ray hasn’t revealed any abscesses forming.”  The doctor ran the tips of his fingers up her bare arm.  “Have you experienced any discomfort?”

“No…”  Lyla mumbled, watching the metal bell of the stethoscope dangle in front of the man’s paisley tie.

“Good, good.”  The doctor spun around atop the stool to the counter behind him, peering into a long rectangular box.  “Before we get you fitted with something permanent, I’ll allow you to take this home and get used to the feeling.”  The doctor pulled a sheet of tissue paper out from the box, followed by a peach-colored plastic arm, held together with a glaring stainless steel hinge.  “Get used to operating it, as well.”

“It looks gross.”  Lyla looked up at the device, dangling various cords and electrodes off the back.

“Well…”  The doctor spun back around, producing a small mesh pocket shaped to the stub of her arm.  “The permanent version will be matched to your skin color, and will have much of the mechanical stuff tucked away, hidden.”

Setting down the prosthetic, the doctor slipped the cloth over Lyla’s arm, pulling it snug. He quickly picked the arm back up, grabbing the wires in his fist and tucking them by Lyla’s side as he matched the socket at the end to limb.

“This will hold on like this.”  He continued, fiddling with the strap to go around Lyla’s back.  “Now, if you just hold on to this and tell me when you feel the muscles in your back start to react to the stimulus.”  The doctor grabbed the vinyl pillow off the bed behind her, placing it between her hands, new and old.

The man moved beside her, and Lyla could feel the cold electrodes move underneath the strap on her tank top and attach to various points on her shoulder blades and spine.  The weight of the new arm pulled down on her arm, but the strap could be felt pulling against her neck and shoulder, dragging the piece of equipment up and down with her troubled movements.  The muscles up her back tensed, and the pillow in her hand twitched as the new hand slowly tightened around it.

“Can you feel it?”  The doctor came back to her front, looking down at the now twitching fingers on Lyla’s fresh hand.

“It feels… so numb.  Like it isn’t real.”  Lyla looked down at the pillow just as it fell from her grasp and onto the ground with a soft thump.

“Let’s test your range of movement, your grip.”  The doctor offered his hand out towards hers.  Lyla lifted her fresh hand towards his, fingers clumsily wrapping around his. “Imagine you’re picking up an egg, or… picking up a pet, your child perhaps.  Imagine pulling your fingers inwards towards the palm.  Softly.”

Lyla concentrated, back muscles twitching, eyes fixated on her own hand.  Between her fingers, The doctors’ sat, relaxed, before pulling in slightly.  The man quickly stopped, attempting to pull back.  Lyla’s face twisted up in concentration, frustration.  The doctor’s face turned to a grimace, unable to pull his own hand away.  A loud cracking sounded through the room, and the two intertwined hands twisted and buckled suddenly.

Lyla quickly jumped back in surprise from the sound, arm now limp.  “I’m… sorry.  I just…”

The doctor pulled at his wrist, shaking it back and forth.  Tugging at the torn vinyl glove, shreds of the material came away, revealing mechanical joints of his own, connected to a length of plastic material extending up his sleeve.  “It can take some time to… get used to the lack of feeling.  But, we can work through it.”

Vroom Vroom

So I got a new car.  Rather than boring you with walls of text, come with me for a ride.

I have a car payment now, though, but it’s cool, because people are going to buy my books, right….?

Joking aside, I want to provide my thoughts on something.  I originally created this blog to accompany my full-length books up on Amazon.  I have pretty much stuck to mostly writing on here, leaving stuff more about me for my YouTube channel.  However, I figured recently that most people burying their heads in books aren’t spending time watching videos online.  So, as many authors seem to do these days, I’ll use this increasingly as a forum to talk about my semi-uneventful real life.

For now… I’m working on putting together my physical copy of ‘Above A Whisper‘ to go on sale… partially because I really want one for myself.  It’s about 20 thousand pages longer than the first book in the series, so it will definitely feel better in my hands and gain a prominent place on my bookshelf.  My friend came through town a couple of weeks ago, and I gave him a signed copy of Mother of Mars, because he was one of the first people to read the story as it was coming together.  I guess I have to get another copy for my own use too.

I saw someone talking about Fahrenheit 451 today online, and now I want to read it again. I don’t know if I actually still have my copy, though.

Eclipse

You would think that you wouldn’t need to tell most sensible grown-up people that you shouldn’t look up at the sun.  Yet, it seemed like they wanted to reinforce it so badly.  I mean, the draw of something that only happens ever 8 or more years or so really makes people want to do something potentially harmful.  I get it.  People take precautions, though.  Those crazy glasses.  Tiny viewers with peepholes.  Tutorials on how to record it on your camera without burning out the sensor.  They say you can take in the experience, but it’s still behind a filter.  It isn’t the real thing.

My boss told me not to look at the sun.  The morning news squeezed it in between the traffic updates and the weather.  Even Twitter, in that little “in case you missed it section,” that never goes away despite trying to block it– that was saying it too.  I decided to ignore it.  I’ve worn glasses since I was in the fourth grade, and gone through at least seven different stages of prescriptions.  It’s not like my vision can get that bad.  I mean, I’ve gotten to see Eiffel Tower before, so it’s not like I’m missing out on much either.

The time came, it began passing over.  The dark disk started to move into place, crawling like something out of a cheap sci-fi horror of Alien invasions.  I had my glasses just in case, but the moment the sun went into full eclipse, I removed them, looking deeply into the void of blackness.  It’s a finite point in time that it’s directly in front of the sun.  That’s when I saw it.  A quick blinking, followed by a quick glint of strange light like I had not seen before.  Up above at the edge of the disk, a man in light blue coveralls, on a footstool, holding what looked like a burnt-out bulb, stood.  Then, he disappeared, and the orb of light began creeping back out.  People started heading back in to their places of work, unknowing.

But I saw.

Strange New Land

Outland: Chapter 19

The long road out of the city seemed busier than any city I had ever visited back in the states.  I could see people clearing out of the way, looks of fright and intrigue on their faces, and I piloted Gulliver the best I could.  Lining the streets were many stalls holding all types of merchandise from clothes, handbags, food of all imaginable type, as well as shady looking stalls chucking flip phones and various sorts of beaten up technology.

We wandered out off the long city streets out into the slummy suburbs, eventually leading into a sort of no man’s land, covered in filth and remnants of civilization.  Some of the children from the city had chased me out on the street, but eventually lost interest and trail off.  I took a look back at the old port, with the boat as tiny speck out in the distance.

Carefully treading through bits of trash, I had Gulliver wade out into the water, the waves sitting just below the windows of the cockpit.  Flipping the switch to put the solar array up, I finally took a breath preparing myself to speak.

“Well, Gulliver.  We’re here.”Continue reading “Strange New Land”