A little explanation is in order for the following experimental "Twitbook," published on Twitter in late July and early August 2009, serial fashion, one chapter per day. I decided to write it within the restrictions of the 140 character format on Twitter. The result is a form which contains 14 chapters, each with 10 passages, and each passaage containing as close to 140 characters as art would permit. A total of approximately 3,360 words. The form was as much a part of the exercise as the story. The whole experience was fun, and I encourage you to try it yourself, or invent a new form that fits. The one proviso is that it has to be published on Twitter, not linked to it. Have fun!
The story itself begins in the future and ends in the very far future. It follows the experiences and consequences of a "first contact" between 10 year old Dara Branson of Earth; and a young alien from a distant galaxy, ultimately named Bloo by his new friend. The story follows them, and eventually their respective descendants through several centuries of co-existence, conflict and eventual trust and friendship.
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think; your comments will help me grow as a writer, and that's what I'm looking forward to the most!
Maren Wryn
OregonMJW on Twitter
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Chapter 1 The Discovery
When you say the words out loud, “57 years” seems like a long time. It’s no time at all in the scheme of things. I know. I’ve lived them.
It was July, a week after my 10th birthday. I received a Barbie doll and an Erector Set. Barbie seemed more complicated; I choose the Set
Cool in the shade of the County’s version, the Set & I were wasting time dreaming of the bridge we’d build across the stream.
The water was at its summertime low & made crossing easy. I was about to do just that when I noticed the deepening red stain in the water.
“A fish kill” I thought. A trout or a gar had met its fate in the claws of a hawk, or one of those elusive cougars that I had yet to see.
As I picked up my toy and hiked up my jeans to cross, I noticed that the red stain was getting much bigger – way too big to be fish blood.
I wasn’t scared. I’d seen a deer bleed out when it was dressed by my Dad and, even though it’s not a pretty site, it seemed natural to me.
“Some stupid city-boy hunter!” I thought in disgust. They never paid attention to their kill; just “shoot & hoot” as my Dad used to say.
I didn’t step into the water. I just stood there waiting for it to clear. But it didn’t. It was then that I first heard the sound.
Even now, all these years later; being accustomed to that sound, as we all are, I still feel the terror it ignited in me that first time.
It was July, a week after my 10th birthday. I received a Barbie doll and an Erector Set. Barbie seemed more complicated; I choose the Set
Cool in the shade of the County’s version, the Set & I were wasting time dreaming of the bridge we’d build across the stream.
The water was at its summertime low & made crossing easy. I was about to do just that when I noticed the deepening red stain in the water.
“A fish kill” I thought. A trout or a gar had met its fate in the claws of a hawk, or one of those elusive cougars that I had yet to see.
As I picked up my toy and hiked up my jeans to cross, I noticed that the red stain was getting much bigger – way too big to be fish blood.
I wasn’t scared. I’d seen a deer bleed out when it was dressed by my Dad and, even though it’s not a pretty site, it seemed natural to me.
“Some stupid city-boy hunter!” I thought in disgust. They never paid attention to their kill; just “shoot & hoot” as my Dad used to say.
I didn’t step into the water. I just stood there waiting for it to clear. But it didn’t. It was then that I first heard the sound.
Even now, all these years later; being accustomed to that sound, as we all are, I still feel the terror it ignited in me that first time.
Chapter 2 The Gift
My name is Dara Branson. For 57 years I’ve lived with the knowledge that my act of kindness on a day in July 2024 cost mankind its freedom.
Terrified as I’d been by the bloodied waters of our stream, and the horrifying screech I’d heard, my child’s curiosity got the better of me.
I made my way upstream following the still evident blood. The screeching stopped after three painful bursts. I was a little scared now.
At the first bend, I smelled an odor like the lavender in our field; but not like exactly like it. The smell was soothing and I pressed on.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with strange emotions: grief, fear, rage, loneliness, pain. I recognized the pain; it nearly crippled me!
I felt myself drawn to a small gully which, in winter, drained the field above. There lay the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
Its arms & legs looked like my own. Its torso was very long and slender, its head rather too large and its skin a pale opalescent blue.
Without understanding how, I heard its voice! “Help me.” It turned its head & I saw its enormous lidless eyes. I must have fainted.
When I came to, it was standing above me. I felt calm and fearless. “Help me” came the familiar sensation. I got to my feet and complied
It held out its hand. I gently took it and led my new friend up the gully, across the field and into out house. My mother fainted.
Terrified as I’d been by the bloodied waters of our stream, and the horrifying screech I’d heard, my child’s curiosity got the better of me.
I made my way upstream following the still evident blood. The screeching stopped after three painful bursts. I was a little scared now.
At the first bend, I smelled an odor like the lavender in our field; but not like exactly like it. The smell was soothing and I pressed on.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with strange emotions: grief, fear, rage, loneliness, pain. I recognized the pain; it nearly crippled me!
I felt myself drawn to a small gully which, in winter, drained the field above. There lay the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
Its arms & legs looked like my own. Its torso was very long and slender, its head rather too large and its skin a pale opalescent blue.
Without understanding how, I heard its voice! “Help me.” It turned its head & I saw its enormous lidless eyes. I must have fainted.
When I came to, it was standing above me. I felt calm and fearless. “Help me” came the familiar sensation. I got to my feet and complied
It held out its hand. I gently took it and led my new friend up the gully, across the field and into out house. My mother fainted.
Chapter 3 The Kindness
My new friend had gradually become stronger as we walked together to the house. My mother eventually recovered too. We called him Bloo.
Mother was scared of Bloo, but she knew I wasn’t & tried to show off her confidence. I think Bloo understood; he avoided looking at her.
Looking back from my present perspective, I recognize the arrogance of thinking Bloo was a male. turned out I was only half wrong through.
I didn’t know how to care for Bloo. He didn’t eat; didn’t really seem to have a mouth either. Brushing my teeth definitely frightened him
We didn’t talk but I often felt like he understood exactly what I was doing or wanting. Once he picked an apple before I knew I wanted one
Soon it was apparent that he was trying to communicate with me. We sat for hours just looking at each other. Eventually, I heard him.
He was a “Cray.” They had come very far across the universe to find a world of humanoids. He didn’t say why. He admitted he was a child.
Something had gone wrong with a method of transport from their ship to the Earth below. His parents died. “They had red blood?” I thought.
He had no way to call the ship above. His father was their leader, and now dead. They would be angry with Earth if Bloo didn’t return soon.
I gave him my iPhone. It took two days but he finally figured out how to make it signal his ship. It was many years later that we met again
Mother was scared of Bloo, but she knew I wasn’t & tried to show off her confidence. I think Bloo understood; he avoided looking at her.
Looking back from my present perspective, I recognize the arrogance of thinking Bloo was a male. turned out I was only half wrong through.
I didn’t know how to care for Bloo. He didn’t eat; didn’t really seem to have a mouth either. Brushing my teeth definitely frightened him
We didn’t talk but I often felt like he understood exactly what I was doing or wanting. Once he picked an apple before I knew I wanted one
Soon it was apparent that he was trying to communicate with me. We sat for hours just looking at each other. Eventually, I heard him.
He was a “Cray.” They had come very far across the universe to find a world of humanoids. He didn’t say why. He admitted he was a child.
Something had gone wrong with a method of transport from their ship to the Earth below. His parents died. “They had red blood?” I thought.
He had no way to call the ship above. His father was their leader, and now dead. They would be angry with Earth if Bloo didn’t return soon.
I gave him my iPhone. It took two days but he finally figured out how to make it signal his ship. It was many years later that we met again
Chapter 4 The Transformation
In the summer of the year 2025, the Earth experienced a series of upheavals that caused the catastrophic death of nearly 60 million people
Worldwide natural events, such as volcanoes, tidal waves, extreme storms on land and at sea, plus the inescapable panic, wreaked havoc.
By December of 2026 it became apparent to many of Earth’s remaining scientists that the events had not been random. Had it been an attack?
Silently and without their militaries, trusted scientists gathered together to plan against what they felt certain was an alien incursion.
By early summer 2027 the scientists concluded that it had been an attack; that there were aliens in the vicinity of Earth. They had no idea.
In the meantime, a steady, nearly universal drop in the human birth rate had further debased
not only the gene pool, but the world economy.
By the last days of 2030, the world’s population was less than a third of 2025. Remaining humans had gathered into 2 roughly similar groups
In five years the Cray had orchestrated a relatively simple terra forming plan of a populated world. All the assets remained, including us.
It was then the Cray came to Earth to “rescue” us. We welcomed them as liberators and friends!
They were pretty, and they smelled good.Standing on bridge of the Cray ship as it drifted lazily over the barren land once called the “USA” was an especially tall young officer
Worldwide natural events, such as volcanoes, tidal waves, extreme storms on land and at sea, plus the inescapable panic, wreaked havoc.
By December of 2026 it became apparent to many of Earth’s remaining scientists that the events had not been random. Had it been an attack?
Silently and without their militaries, trusted scientists gathered together to plan against what they felt certain was an alien incursion.
By early summer 2027 the scientists concluded that it had been an attack; that there were aliens in the vicinity of Earth. They had no idea.
In the meantime, a steady, nearly universal drop in the human birth rate had further debased
not only the gene pool, but the world economy.
By the last days of 2030, the world’s population was less than a third of 2025. Remaining humans had gathered into 2 roughly similar groups
In five years the Cray had orchestrated a relatively simple terra forming plan of a populated world. All the assets remained, including us.
It was then the Cray came to Earth to “rescue” us. We welcomed them as liberators and friends!
They were pretty, and they smelled good.Standing on bridge of the Cray ship as it drifted lazily over the barren land once called the “USA” was an especially tall young officer
Chapter 5 The Trade
Brad Avery entered the President’s office with his usual panache. He crossed to the desk and said, “Sir we can’t allow this to continue!”
The handsome young SecDef emphasized his agitation by using a little more force than necessary to set down the papers he’d been clutching
“Calm down, Brad,” Pres. Branson replied in the silken tone he used to pump money out of sow eared donors. “And, sit down, boy, sit down!”
“Sir, the Cray commander has left us with no options.” “Son, the door is closed” the President replied. The younger man looked relived
From his coat pocket he slipped a slender, hand-sized device which most people over 50 might have identified as an antique iPhone
“Dad, Cray 47 has to be returned tonight.” He handed the phone to his father, who pressed the speaker icon. As he did so, they both flinched
“I am Cray 93, Commander of the Northern District!” Even in the Translator, the tone of the Cray was aggressive. “Cray 47 will be released!”
“Brad, he’s not even a triple digit! What the hell?” “Dad, he claims to have Dara!” The President’s head fell forward into his hands
“Dara!” he whispered. “Is this true?” “Yes Dad, Dara’s been uncounted for two periods.” “Release him then! Release him now,” he commanded
The handsome young SecDef emphasized his agitation by using a little more force than necessary to set down the papers he’d been clutching
“Calm down, Brad,” Pres. Branson replied in the silken tone he used to pump money out of sow eared donors. “And, sit down, boy, sit down!”
“Sir, the Cray commander has left us with no options.” “Son, the door is closed” the President replied. The younger man looked relived
From his coat pocket he slipped a slender, hand-sized device which most people over 50 might have identified as an antique iPhone
“Dad, Cray 47 has to be returned tonight.” He handed the phone to his father, who pressed the speaker icon. As he did so, they both flinched
“I am Cray 93, Commander of the Northern District!” Even in the Translator, the tone of the Cray was aggressive. “Cray 47 will be released!”
“Brad, he’s not even a triple digit! What the hell?” “Dad, he claims to have Dara!” The President’s head fell forward into his hands
“Dara!” he whispered. “Is this true?” “Yes Dad, Dara’s been uncounted for two periods.” “Release him then! Release him now,” he commanded
Chapter 6 Blasphemy
“Sec. Avery?” “Here, Raina. Do you have them?” Even in the dark of the outer air lock, Raina’s blond hair glowed as if by its own light
Yes. Sir!” she responded. “I brought 3 apples from the central repository. The Prelate was not pleased.” Brad smiled at her revelation
As she spoke, striking young Raina Doll glanced up at Brad Avery with a knowing smile. His unusual gift would be costly. This pleased her
The hiss of escaping air alerted the young couple to lower their headsets & masks. The human face was offensive to the Cray; as were humans
Brad and Raina advanced the required 3 steps then stood with their eyes averted. The airlock cycled closed. Each was shaking just a little
Raina’s hands, palms up, tight against her waist, held the precious gift. A Cray assigned to greet them advanced to face her. He struck!
The apples flew from her hands onto the ground. Her training failed & Raina uttered a short gasp and stepped back once. The Cray cried out
The Pattern of Three was broken! 3 steps forward, a trio of identical gifts, 3 as yet unspoken words of greeting. Raina’s fear damned all.
Cray 47 had returned; now Raina had insulted the Cray’s obsession with numerical order. Dara’s safe return was at risk.
Their suit translators were not designed to handle the load of multiple Cray rending the air with screams of rage. Neither were human ears
Yes. Sir!” she responded. “I brought 3 apples from the central repository. The Prelate was not pleased.” Brad smiled at her revelation
As she spoke, striking young Raina Doll glanced up at Brad Avery with a knowing smile. His unusual gift would be costly. This pleased her
The hiss of escaping air alerted the young couple to lower their headsets & masks. The human face was offensive to the Cray; as were humans
Brad and Raina advanced the required 3 steps then stood with their eyes averted. The airlock cycled closed. Each was shaking just a little
Raina’s hands, palms up, tight against her waist, held the precious gift. A Cray assigned to greet them advanced to face her. He struck!
The apples flew from her hands onto the ground. Her training failed & Raina uttered a short gasp and stepped back once. The Cray cried out
The Pattern of Three was broken! 3 steps forward, a trio of identical gifts, 3 as yet unspoken words of greeting. Raina’s fear damned all.
Cray 47 had returned; now Raina had insulted the Cray’s obsession with numerical order. Dara’s safe return was at risk.
Their suit translators were not designed to handle the load of multiple Cray rending the air with screams of rage. Neither were human ears
Chapter 7 The Save
30 yr. old Secretary of Defense of the Northern Alliance, Brad Avery, stood with his back pressed against the closed door of the airlock
Raina Doll, 27 yr. old high priestess of The Church, and soon to be Mrs. Brad Avery, lay senseless and still in his strong arms
A Cray of unknown age was standing in front of them and, having picked up the three apples, was holding them out as if to give them back
"Don’t do it Brad!" came the sharp, and very recognizable voice of a human female. "Don’t take the apples from 86." the voice commanded
"Dara! You’re OK?" he exclaimed. "Yes, of course I am! Bloo wouldn’t hurt me; we’ve been visiting." she replied. "Bloo meet Brad Avery."
So it was true! Dara Branson was the human connection to the Cray, and to their . . what? . .their king Cray 300; "Bloo" to his human friend?
Bloo stepped forward & the other Cray retreated a respectful distance. Brad noticed that Dara, nearly 70, still held one blue hand in hers
Towering over Brad, Bloo began to speak through the translator. Brad heard: "Cray 47 is safely back with his family. He is well."
“Our mission is not served by harming these humans nor by returning their gift without cause” he intoned. “They will go back immediately!”
Bloo then looked down at Dara, who smiled broadly, released his hand and joined Brad and the awakening Raina in the opening airlock
Raina Doll, 27 yr. old high priestess of The Church, and soon to be Mrs. Brad Avery, lay senseless and still in his strong arms
A Cray of unknown age was standing in front of them and, having picked up the three apples, was holding them out as if to give them back
"Don’t do it Brad!" came the sharp, and very recognizable voice of a human female. "Don’t take the apples from 86." the voice commanded
"Dara! You’re OK?" he exclaimed. "Yes, of course I am! Bloo wouldn’t hurt me; we’ve been visiting." she replied. "Bloo meet Brad Avery."
So it was true! Dara Branson was the human connection to the Cray, and to their . . what? . .their king Cray 300; "Bloo" to his human friend?
Bloo stepped forward & the other Cray retreated a respectful distance. Brad noticed that Dara, nearly 70, still held one blue hand in hers
Towering over Brad, Bloo began to speak through the translator. Brad heard: "Cray 47 is safely back with his family. He is well."
“Our mission is not served by harming these humans nor by returning their gift without cause” he intoned. “They will go back immediately!”
Bloo then looked down at Dara, who smiled broadly, released his hand and joined Brad and the awakening Raina in the opening airlock
Chapter 8 The Sacrifice
“Dara! How could you believe this would work?” President Branson stood before his mother, his fists clenched in frustration and relief
“Peter” Dara said softly as she lifted her hand to her son’s face “You couldn’t know, no one could know. I knew Bloo wouldn’t harm me.”
The sounds of yelling and confusion erupted just outside the President’s office. Raina Doll burst through the doors; nearly breathless
“Dara! President Branson!” she cried out, struggling out of the grasp of a security officer. “It’s Brad, he’s entered Transition! Hurry!”
Both Dara Branson and her son Peter, President of the Northern Alliance were seized in the same instant by the horror of Raina’s words
“Transition?” Peter whispered. “ It’s not time! They can’t take him this early!” He turned to his mother, his face white “Dara, please.”
“Please! Hurry!” cried Raina as she ran for the door. President Branson was right behind her. Dara calmly walked to a 2nd door & outside
She closed her eyes and felt the calm place. She felt the sensation of talking to Bloo. “Help me” she thought. “I will” he responded
Raina’s tears rained down on the face of her beloved. His body stiffened then jerked awake. “Brad!” she cried. “Raina?“ he whispered
President Branson returned to his office and found Dara’s note. “My darling, I know Brad will be fine now. I love you all more than life.”
“Peter” Dara said softly as she lifted her hand to her son’s face “You couldn’t know, no one could know. I knew Bloo wouldn’t harm me.”
The sounds of yelling and confusion erupted just outside the President’s office. Raina Doll burst through the doors; nearly breathless
“Dara! President Branson!” she cried out, struggling out of the grasp of a security officer. “It’s Brad, he’s entered Transition! Hurry!”
Both Dara Branson and her son Peter, President of the Northern Alliance were seized in the same instant by the horror of Raina’s words
“Transition?” Peter whispered. “ It’s not time! They can’t take him this early!” He turned to his mother, his face white “Dara, please.”
“Please! Hurry!” cried Raina as she ran for the door. President Branson was right behind her. Dara calmly walked to a 2nd door & outside
She closed her eyes and felt the calm place. She felt the sensation of talking to Bloo. “Help me” she thought. “I will” he responded
Raina’s tears rained down on the face of her beloved. His body stiffened then jerked awake. “Brad!” she cried. “Raina?“ he whispered
President Branson returned to his office and found Dara’s note. “My darling, I know Brad will be fine now. I love you all more than life.”
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Chapter 9 Life Force
The Cray’s terra forming of Earth had resulted in a severe reduction of the human population. 57 yrs later, it remained remarkably similar
Virtually all humans now alive were born during the Cray occupation. A few, like the late Dara Branson, had been there at the beginning
“Transition” ensured the Cray’s adaptation to Earth normal was sustained and that an adequate number of humans remained. Numerical balance
The Cray’s natural clairvoyance was well known, if not understood. The telekinetic skill of the elders was less known but vital
The process was simple: a clairvoyant “cloud” of reassurance and false memory shielded the living from the absence of the soon to be dead
Some humans volunteered to transition and, in these cases the process was managed to seem more like a religious ascension to Heaven
The result was the same in either case. A human’s essence, their life force, memories and knowledge were assimilated; the body consumed
Only special cases were allowed to remain beyond the traditional 65 years. Any resistance to the process was managed through clairvoyance
Dara had been given dispensation through her remarkable relationship to Cray leader, Bloo. She & he were one now. She had not been shared
Bloo’s assimilation of Dara would have a profound effect on both the Cray, and humankind. The question was: who would see it first?
Virtually all humans now alive were born during the Cray occupation. A few, like the late Dara Branson, had been there at the beginning
“Transition” ensured the Cray’s adaptation to Earth normal was sustained and that an adequate number of humans remained. Numerical balance
The Cray’s natural clairvoyance was well known, if not understood. The telekinetic skill of the elders was less known but vital
The process was simple: a clairvoyant “cloud” of reassurance and false memory shielded the living from the absence of the soon to be dead
Some humans volunteered to transition and, in these cases the process was managed to seem more like a religious ascension to Heaven
The result was the same in either case. A human’s essence, their life force, memories and knowledge were assimilated; the body consumed
Only special cases were allowed to remain beyond the traditional 65 years. Any resistance to the process was managed through clairvoyance
Dara had been given dispensation through her remarkable relationship to Cray leader, Bloo. She & he were one now. She had not been shared
Bloo’s assimilation of Dara would have a profound effect on both the Cray, and humankind. The question was: who would see it first?
Chapter 10 The Anniversary
A ceremony honoring the 5th anniversary of Dara Branson’s voluntary Transition was announced. Her family, in both populations, prepared.
Peter Branson, now relieved of the burdens of office, met Brad & Raina Avery at the air lock. Their son Geir Avery, now 3, ran to meet him
“Raina & Geir aren’t coming today, Dad.” “Why?” Peter asked, as he swept up his tow headed grandchild. “Bloo won’t be happy you know.”
“We go to the farm!” Geir blurted. “I’m swimming!” The child squirmed out of Peter’s arms & ran through the airlock door as it cycled open
Bloo came into view and was it now his turn to sweep up the child he considered his great grandson. “Blooooo” cried Geir as he flew upward
Neither Cray nor human had yet been able find a way around the translator, except mind to mind contact. Bloo addressed his human family
“I honor your mother” he said directly to Peter, handing him 3 white scarves. In MTM, he added “I love you all more than life itself.”
Dara’s last conscious thought, the note she’d left for Peter, was part of Bloo now. Her sacrifice impacted Bloo and, through him, all Cray
Human population was on the rise. The Transition was now entirely voluntary and, with the increased population, still sustaining the Cray
A remarkable covenant had naturally evolved between humans and the Cray. Always apart; yet not separate. Completely alien; yet familiar
Peter Branson, now relieved of the burdens of office, met Brad & Raina Avery at the air lock. Their son Geir Avery, now 3, ran to meet him
“Raina & Geir aren’t coming today, Dad.” “Why?” Peter asked, as he swept up his tow headed grandchild. “Bloo won’t be happy you know.”
“We go to the farm!” Geir blurted. “I’m swimming!” The child squirmed out of Peter’s arms & ran through the airlock door as it cycled open
Bloo came into view and was it now his turn to sweep up the child he considered his great grandson. “Blooooo” cried Geir as he flew upward
Neither Cray nor human had yet been able find a way around the translator, except mind to mind contact. Bloo addressed his human family
“I honor your mother” he said directly to Peter, handing him 3 white scarves. In MTM, he added “I love you all more than life itself.”
Dara’s last conscious thought, the note she’d left for Peter, was part of Bloo now. Her sacrifice impacted Bloo and, through him, all Cray
Human population was on the rise. The Transition was now entirely voluntary and, with the increased population, still sustaining the Cray
A remarkable covenant had naturally evolved between humans and the Cray. Always apart; yet not separate. Completely alien; yet familiar
Chapter 11 Going Home
Geir Avery and his shipmate Cray 307, nicknamed “True” stood together on the bridge of the Cray mother ship watching as Earth faded from view.
Thru transition, the Cray had developed the approximation of rather human facial features; smaller eyes, a functioning mouth and oddly, hair
When True was budded by Bloo, Geir was already spending as much time with Bloo as with his human father. Geir & True became inseparable
Humans evolved. Their nascent clairvoyant powers grew stronger. Geir showed special talent. Dara’s influence on humans & Cray continued
A message was received from the Cray home world. The need for fresh genetic material was great. The hybrid Cray of Earth would save them
“I honor your Earth.” True MTM’d, bringing his hands together 3 times to approximate clapping. “I honor yours.” Geir responded in 3 words
Both young, both yet to reach the peak of their powers, Geir and True smiled at each other as best they could. A Cray officer approached
Nearly 100 Earth years would pass before they saw each other again. Oblivious in stasis, neither would age again until then
Over the following year the Cray ship would automatically accelerate to just below the speed of light and rise above the plane of the galaxy
Engaging its own “event horizon” at a safe distance, the ship would be pulled through empty space towards Aldeberan, and the Cray home world
Thru transition, the Cray had developed the approximation of rather human facial features; smaller eyes, a functioning mouth and oddly, hair
When True was budded by Bloo, Geir was already spending as much time with Bloo as with his human father. Geir & True became inseparable
Humans evolved. Their nascent clairvoyant powers grew stronger. Geir showed special talent. Dara’s influence on humans & Cray continued
A message was received from the Cray home world. The need for fresh genetic material was great. The hybrid Cray of Earth would save them
“I honor your Earth.” True MTM’d, bringing his hands together 3 times to approximate clapping. “I honor yours.” Geir responded in 3 words
Both young, both yet to reach the peak of their powers, Geir and True smiled at each other as best they could. A Cray officer approached
Nearly 100 Earth years would pass before they saw each other again. Oblivious in stasis, neither would age again until then
Over the following year the Cray ship would automatically accelerate to just below the speed of light and rise above the plane of the galaxy
Engaging its own “event horizon” at a safe distance, the ship would be pulled through empty space towards Aldeberan, and the Cray home world
Chapter 12 Dara's Legacy
Remarkable changes had occurred by the 100th anniversary of the Crays initial revelation of their presence on Earth; and much more to come
Natural geneticists, the Cray had quickly adapted themselves to the remarkably different conditions on Earth.
Through the use of Transition, the assimilation and dissemination of human genetic material affected both species.
Humans developed the unused powers of their brain, particularly mind-to-mind contact. Cray developed functioning mouths and speech.
Transition evolved and now represented a reciprocal gift. The transition ceremony rivaled even the ancient human tradition of “marriage”
The legend of Dara Branson and her beloved Cray, Bloo, was imbedded in the very structure of the rapidly melding genome.
The Cray ship falling towards Aldeberan had eventually become a legend as well, although the memory of its crew lived on in place names.
DB 37, a lovely child at the age of 10 years, sat comfortably besides the stream which bisected the popular “Branson Eternal Monument.”
In the shade of the heroic statue of her distant cousin Geir Avery and his Cray bother True, DB
37 waited for her own blue friend to appearSuddenly DB’s heart was racing as she was nearly overcome with . . .fear! “They’re coming this way! We must hide!” came Rain’s urgent plea
Natural geneticists, the Cray had quickly adapted themselves to the remarkably different conditions on Earth.
Through the use of Transition, the assimilation and dissemination of human genetic material affected both species.
Humans developed the unused powers of their brain, particularly mind-to-mind contact. Cray developed functioning mouths and speech.
Transition evolved and now represented a reciprocal gift. The transition ceremony rivaled even the ancient human tradition of “marriage”
The legend of Dara Branson and her beloved Cray, Bloo, was imbedded in the very structure of the rapidly melding genome.
The Cray ship falling towards Aldeberan had eventually become a legend as well, although the memory of its crew lived on in place names.
DB 37, a lovely child at the age of 10 years, sat comfortably besides the stream which bisected the popular “Branson Eternal Monument.”
In the shade of the heroic statue of her distant cousin Geir Avery and his Cray bother True, DB
37 waited for her own blue friend to appearSuddenly DB’s heart was racing as she was nearly overcome with . . .fear! “They’re coming this way! We must hide!” came Rain’s urgent plea
Chapter 13 The Others
DeeBee, as she was typically addressed, arose and turned in time to see her Cray playmate, Rain, running to her in that odd way they move.
“Tell what’s chasing you!” she demanded through thought. Her own heart continued to be effected by the emotional outpouring from Rain.
“The Others sensed out plan to meet” Rain replied. “They are not 30 strides behind me!” At this, Rain reached the side of his friend
Without hesitation, the two joined hands & ran for the relative safety of the other side of the monument. There was a small door at the base
Safely inside, the door closed and bolted, Rain and DeeBee slumped together to the floor. They both concentrated on mental control .
The Others would detect directed thought, so the young friends each concentrated on different places in the small room; not on each other
It was nearly an Earth hour before Rain could use his superior mental powers to scan the area, and found it to be safe to exit safely
The Others were, after all, impulse hunters. They had no staying power. DeeBee had once likened them to the long extinct “cheetah”
“Rain, we can always go up to the farmhouse” DeeBee said in speech. “My palm is still registered, and we could spend the afternoon inside
“I must report.” Rain thought back. “The Others may be human, but they’re dangerous & must be stopped!” Even at 10, DeeBee understood why.
“Tell what’s chasing you!” she demanded through thought. Her own heart continued to be effected by the emotional outpouring from Rain.
“The Others sensed out plan to meet” Rain replied. “They are not 30 strides behind me!” At this, Rain reached the side of his friend
Without hesitation, the two joined hands & ran for the relative safety of the other side of the monument. There was a small door at the base
Safely inside, the door closed and bolted, Rain and DeeBee slumped together to the floor. They both concentrated on mental control .
The Others would detect directed thought, so the young friends each concentrated on different places in the small room; not on each other
It was nearly an Earth hour before Rain could use his superior mental powers to scan the area, and found it to be safe to exit safely
The Others were, after all, impulse hunters. They had no staying power. DeeBee had once likened them to the long extinct “cheetah”
“Rain, we can always go up to the farmhouse” DeeBee said in speech. “My palm is still registered, and we could spend the afternoon inside
“I must report.” Rain thought back. “The Others may be human, but they’re dangerous & must be stopped!” Even at 10, DeeBee understood why.
Chapter 14 The End
Dara’s legacy eventually spread throughout the known worlds of several galaxies. The insurrection of The Others on Earth was gently put down
The eventual descendents of Geir Avery returned to Earth and became the core of the Earth’s now vast space faring fleet.
Human and Cray, unable to completely meld their still remarkably different genetic structure were able to adapt to and adopt from each other
New species were discovered; and the spirit of Dara’s child-like acceptance of someone so outwardly strange was employed to include them.
Many challenges remained; diseases not only remained, new ones seemed to arrive on each new ship. Conflicts erupted; some on Earth itself
But on the 200th Anniversary of the Voluntary Transition of Dara Branson, a grateful people spread over nearly as many planets, gave thanks
Goss Defen, a native of Zeneb II and now working in the Intergalactic Solar Observatory, was in charge of monitoring over 1,000 suns.
His observations of N57001A, a rapidly expanding star of inestimable age troubled him greatly. Close enough to harm Earth, or even Zeneb II
The pleas of this young scientist had fallen on deaf ears. An unearned confidence had overtaken the elders of both the Cray and Humans.
It would be 100 years on before the traditional ceremonies included the courageous Goss Defen in worshipful honor of heroes who saved Earth
The eventual descendents of Geir Avery returned to Earth and became the core of the Earth’s now vast space faring fleet.
Human and Cray, unable to completely meld their still remarkably different genetic structure were able to adapt to and adopt from each other
New species were discovered; and the spirit of Dara’s child-like acceptance of someone so outwardly strange was employed to include them.
Many challenges remained; diseases not only remained, new ones seemed to arrive on each new ship. Conflicts erupted; some on Earth itself
But on the 200th Anniversary of the Voluntary Transition of Dara Branson, a grateful people spread over nearly as many planets, gave thanks
Goss Defen, a native of Zeneb II and now working in the Intergalactic Solar Observatory, was in charge of monitoring over 1,000 suns.
His observations of N57001A, a rapidly expanding star of inestimable age troubled him greatly. Close enough to harm Earth, or even Zeneb II
The pleas of this young scientist had fallen on deaf ears. An unearned confidence had overtaken the elders of both the Cray and Humans.
It would be 100 years on before the traditional ceremonies included the courageous Goss Defen in worshipful honor of heroes who saved Earth
Sunday, May 3, 2009
On Being Young and Stupid: Reflection
You know those days when you’re all fired up? You get to the office or school a little earlier than necessary, hit the deck running and, when you next look up, it’s 3:30 in the afternoon and you haven’t even had lunch? It’s recently occurred to me that I have lived my life like that. The problem is what do you do with the last hour and ½ of your day or, figuratively speaking, your life? There isn’t enough time to start and finish something new; yet it’s too long a period to just sit there like a mushroom, waiting for someone turn off the lights.
Things seemed less complicated when I was young and stupid. As I matured, I eventually realized why the words “young” and “stupid” are so often linked. We make selections from the seemingly unlimited array of choices before us, but we are often (a) unaware of the act of choosing; and, (b) if we are aware of making a choice, we almost never contemplate or understand the consequences.
On a personal level, you could think of it as “bad boyfriend” syndrome. You choose a guy for his looks and sex appeal, and after you break up a month later, you look back with new, clearer eyes and realize your mistake – until the next demi-god on wheels rolls into view. What you’re really choosing is not a boyfriend, but an image of yourself you hope you see in the eyes of someone you admire. You’re not seeing “him” at all. Truthfully, he probably doesn’t see you either, and for the same reason. Too bad we have to live through the side effects so often.
The choices seem to keep on coming, and we doggedly keep slogging away at it until the image matches our expectations; or we just give up. Somewhere along the line, I just gave up. You leave the field. The roar of the crowd dims with distance and you don’t look back for fear of turning into that pillar of salt. It’s a choice.
If you’ve been raised to believe you can, you will. If your upbringing was more ambiguous, you still can – but it’s a hell of lot harder. I just didn’t see it coming; the afternoon of my life. But, when I think about it, looking back, I had a pretty good day already – just not the one I was expecting.
Things seemed less complicated when I was young and stupid. As I matured, I eventually realized why the words “young” and “stupid” are so often linked. We make selections from the seemingly unlimited array of choices before us, but we are often (a) unaware of the act of choosing; and, (b) if we are aware of making a choice, we almost never contemplate or understand the consequences.
On a personal level, you could think of it as “bad boyfriend” syndrome. You choose a guy for his looks and sex appeal, and after you break up a month later, you look back with new, clearer eyes and realize your mistake – until the next demi-god on wheels rolls into view. What you’re really choosing is not a boyfriend, but an image of yourself you hope you see in the eyes of someone you admire. You’re not seeing “him” at all. Truthfully, he probably doesn’t see you either, and for the same reason. Too bad we have to live through the side effects so often.
The choices seem to keep on coming, and we doggedly keep slogging away at it until the image matches our expectations; or we just give up. Somewhere along the line, I just gave up. You leave the field. The roar of the crowd dims with distance and you don’t look back for fear of turning into that pillar of salt. It’s a choice.
If you’ve been raised to believe you can, you will. If your upbringing was more ambiguous, you still can – but it’s a hell of lot harder. I just didn’t see it coming; the afternoon of my life. But, when I think about it, looking back, I had a pretty good day already – just not the one I was expecting.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
On Being In California: The Arrival
An insistent discomfort in my ear, and an odd sensation of falling, slowly ended my neck cramping nap. Palm Springs was slipping into view through the crack in my window shade on the port, and I could see the all too near peak of Mt. San Jacinto slide by to starboard. Coming into Ontario, CA from the north is always a thread-the-needle deal.
The pilot has to fly a glide path that nearly circles back on itself from the original approach. Over Palm Springs, slide by Big Bear, right pitch & yaw towards the valley floor of the Inland Empire; dropping altitude, and shedding airspeed with twists and turns. That’s what’s required, but this guy is having way to much fun!
It reminds me of the milk run flight – the actual dairy product - from Maui to the Island of Lanai back in the 70’s. Lanai was just a pineapple plantation then. For those in the know, it could also be a rather cool retreat at the huge log lodge built there back in the 30’s. In the 70's the lodge was then operated by Dole as a summer employee hostel and cafeteria.
I was dating the dairy owner’s younger son. He would deliver the cans to Maui airport, then ride over to Lanai with the pilot to unload them at the other end. The plane was an old twin-prop WWII transport – don’t ask me what kind. Silvery and sleek, yet bulky looking. Even the finest earplugs, and your hands to boot, couldn’t drown out the deafening noise of those props! Loaded up, we'd taxi to about the halfway point, turn, throttle up, then drive down the runway, and jerk up into the sky. We'd barely get air before we passed over the interisland channel, then over Lanai itself. Because of strong prevailing winds, we'd pull a 180 – both back and down - in order to drop the airspeed to what the pilot jokingly called “crash & burn.” Just when your heart (and other organs) were about to fall from your mouth, he'd set us down like a fixed wing “helicopter” on a patch of red earth smaller than a football field. This was not for the faint of heart - but pilots will understand. They love this kind of shit! So do I.
Sometimes we’d stay for breakfast. They had the freshest free range eggs! You'd often hear a chicken squawking soon after your order was taken. The eggs were most often accompanied by some kind of fish – caught that morning on the rocks below the cliff at the lodge. You could get sausage, but because it had to be flown in, it was more expensive than fish. Dole Executives ate sausage. The “hash” browns were actually raw McDonalds French fries, thawed, cut in half lengthwise, and grilled up with thinly sliced Maui onions and green pepper - if you asked nicely; a greasy mess, if you didn't.
Back on the milk plane with full stomachs, the return flight was a breeze. No need to take off really, the strip ended at the cliff’s edge, so you were “airborne” no matter how fast you were going at the time.
As our path into Ontario International Airport settles down to business, the landscape immediately below our plane changes from employee filled industrial boxes as far as the eye can see, to green manicured grass and blinking blue lights on sticks. I find myself instinctively placing my hand on the tray table I'd pressed against the seat ahead. Good timing! Just at that moment the rubber met the road. I flashed on that TV commercial for Bridgestone Tires where the 747 lands on a clutch of what look like monster truck tires. Emerging from the cloud of burning rubber, a pilot type enters the stop-action shot and says he wouldn’t want to trust his passengers to anything else. So, little plane o’mine, are they Bridgestone or are they Memorex?
My instincts are rewarded, and my bracing hand prevents me from being pushed violently forward, as our pilot demonstrates he still has a little left in him. He’s chosen to hit the runway at a speed one would think not in the best interests of building much of a frequent flyer clientele. His need for speed is quickly reversed as he slams on the air brakes. The roar of the reversing engine thrust sets off the "warning baby" like a smoke alarm. As we turn for the terminal, I silently compliment him for what could be described as a nicely executed airplane version of the classic police car spin out. Like I said, pilots love this shit.
I’m on the ground and heading for baggage claim. My brother is late. He's usually standing at the bottom of the escalator but, today, he’s nowhere to be seen. I got my bag in under 15 minutes of stepping off the plane – and that’s only because the walk is longer from Southwest's gates than from Alaska’s. My brother is still not visible. I nervously pace the White-Zone-For-Loanding-And-Unloading-Passengers-Only. All the other people seem to have family and friends! He sent me a confirming e-mail, for crissakes! E-mails are the truth, right? Don’t we all believe that?
It’s been over 30 minutes now, and I finally fall on mercy of the smartly uniformed Customer Service volunteer. She looks to be about 90 years old. White haired and frail looking, she lets you know with a glance that she expects you to stand up straight and eat your vegetables! Her name tag says Sonia, but that just didn’t fit. She must be a Maude, or Pearl, or one of those two-part southern names like Betty Joe. Since I had no loose change and only a $50 bill she could not cash, she was kind enough to call my Dad‘s house. He was kind enough to answer on the first ring. My brother would be late, he announced. He’d read my departure time as my arrival and would be at least an hour late. Why don't they have highly visible clocks in airpots? This wasn't Vegas.
After what seemed like an eternity, but actually about 25 minutes later, my brother came sprinting into view. Having abandoned his vehicle in the White-We-Will-Take-Your-Firstborn-Zone, he was frantic that I obey his demand to “Come On! Come on!” as he turned on a dime and dashed back to his beloved – a 1969 fully restored Chevy Camero. I lingered just long enough to make sure he spotted the airport officer coming the other way, then dropped my bag at his feet and got in.
Only 97 miles of California’s finest concrete between me and my destination. Let’s roll!
The pilot has to fly a glide path that nearly circles back on itself from the original approach. Over Palm Springs, slide by Big Bear, right pitch & yaw towards the valley floor of the Inland Empire; dropping altitude, and shedding airspeed with twists and turns. That’s what’s required, but this guy is having way to much fun!
It reminds me of the milk run flight – the actual dairy product - from Maui to the Island of Lanai back in the 70’s. Lanai was just a pineapple plantation then. For those in the know, it could also be a rather cool retreat at the huge log lodge built there back in the 30’s. In the 70's the lodge was then operated by Dole as a summer employee hostel and cafeteria.
I was dating the dairy owner’s younger son. He would deliver the cans to Maui airport, then ride over to Lanai with the pilot to unload them at the other end. The plane was an old twin-prop WWII transport – don’t ask me what kind. Silvery and sleek, yet bulky looking. Even the finest earplugs, and your hands to boot, couldn’t drown out the deafening noise of those props! Loaded up, we'd taxi to about the halfway point, turn, throttle up, then drive down the runway, and jerk up into the sky. We'd barely get air before we passed over the interisland channel, then over Lanai itself. Because of strong prevailing winds, we'd pull a 180 – both back and down - in order to drop the airspeed to what the pilot jokingly called “crash & burn.” Just when your heart (and other organs) were about to fall from your mouth, he'd set us down like a fixed wing “helicopter” on a patch of red earth smaller than a football field. This was not for the faint of heart - but pilots will understand. They love this kind of shit! So do I.
Sometimes we’d stay for breakfast. They had the freshest free range eggs! You'd often hear a chicken squawking soon after your order was taken. The eggs were most often accompanied by some kind of fish – caught that morning on the rocks below the cliff at the lodge. You could get sausage, but because it had to be flown in, it was more expensive than fish. Dole Executives ate sausage. The “hash” browns were actually raw McDonalds French fries, thawed, cut in half lengthwise, and grilled up with thinly sliced Maui onions and green pepper - if you asked nicely; a greasy mess, if you didn't.
Back on the milk plane with full stomachs, the return flight was a breeze. No need to take off really, the strip ended at the cliff’s edge, so you were “airborne” no matter how fast you were going at the time.
As our path into Ontario International Airport settles down to business, the landscape immediately below our plane changes from employee filled industrial boxes as far as the eye can see, to green manicured grass and blinking blue lights on sticks. I find myself instinctively placing my hand on the tray table I'd pressed against the seat ahead. Good timing! Just at that moment the rubber met the road. I flashed on that TV commercial for Bridgestone Tires where the 747 lands on a clutch of what look like monster truck tires. Emerging from the cloud of burning rubber, a pilot type enters the stop-action shot and says he wouldn’t want to trust his passengers to anything else. So, little plane o’mine, are they Bridgestone or are they Memorex?
My instincts are rewarded, and my bracing hand prevents me from being pushed violently forward, as our pilot demonstrates he still has a little left in him. He’s chosen to hit the runway at a speed one would think not in the best interests of building much of a frequent flyer clientele. His need for speed is quickly reversed as he slams on the air brakes. The roar of the reversing engine thrust sets off the "warning baby" like a smoke alarm. As we turn for the terminal, I silently compliment him for what could be described as a nicely executed airplane version of the classic police car spin out. Like I said, pilots love this shit.
I’m on the ground and heading for baggage claim. My brother is late. He's usually standing at the bottom of the escalator but, today, he’s nowhere to be seen. I got my bag in under 15 minutes of stepping off the plane – and that’s only because the walk is longer from Southwest's gates than from Alaska’s. My brother is still not visible. I nervously pace the White-Zone-For-Loanding-And-Unloading-Passengers-Only. All the other people seem to have family and friends! He sent me a confirming e-mail, for crissakes! E-mails are the truth, right? Don’t we all believe that?
It’s been over 30 minutes now, and I finally fall on mercy of the smartly uniformed Customer Service volunteer. She looks to be about 90 years old. White haired and frail looking, she lets you know with a glance that she expects you to stand up straight and eat your vegetables! Her name tag says Sonia, but that just didn’t fit. She must be a Maude, or Pearl, or one of those two-part southern names like Betty Joe. Since I had no loose change and only a $50 bill she could not cash, she was kind enough to call my Dad‘s house. He was kind enough to answer on the first ring. My brother would be late, he announced. He’d read my departure time as my arrival and would be at least an hour late. Why don't they have highly visible clocks in airpots? This wasn't Vegas.
After what seemed like an eternity, but actually about 25 minutes later, my brother came sprinting into view. Having abandoned his vehicle in the White-We-Will-Take-Your-Firstborn-Zone, he was frantic that I obey his demand to “Come On! Come on!” as he turned on a dime and dashed back to his beloved – a 1969 fully restored Chevy Camero. I lingered just long enough to make sure he spotted the airport officer coming the other way, then dropped my bag at his feet and got in.
Only 97 miles of California’s finest concrete between me and my destination. Let’s roll!
Monday, March 30, 2009
On Being in California: Getting There
Travel day: Saturday 3/28/09: I'm headed for my dad's house in Escondido, CA. Been up since 4:30 am, on the road since 6:30 am, and it's about 15 minutes into the flight, and we’re at about 15,000 ft. and those pesky electronic gadets are legal again.
It was 43 and raining in Portland, OR when we took off about 11:00 a.m. and it’s still cloudy even as far south as . . . wherever we are: Salem? Just peeked out the window and see that it is clearing below and we are far above any remaining clouds. Unfortunately, I had to sit on the sunny side of the plane and now I have to keep my window shade down to avoid getting fried!
I’m flying on Southwest for the first time. They had the best prices and availability on short notice to my destination. Their boarding routine is a little odd – you get a number, A or B, 1-75, and you board in numerical order, by the numbers: A 1-30, B 1-30, A 31-50, B 31-50 . . . .until all are aboard. The lower your number the better your chance of sitting where you want – it’s open seating. I was told by a lady in line that, because her husband is a frequent flyer, his numbers are automatically lower. Sure enough, there he was about 45 people ahead of her in line. This SW thing could be interesting, if your marriage was already in trouble.
One surprise; I thought I was boarding a flight that flew straight through to Ontario, CA – my ticket says that. But the pilot announced that we were “on our way to beautiful downtown Sacramento.” Surprise! That was my original destination, prior to my 95 year old father falling on a walk, cracking his rib and causing my brother to call me from the hospital to ask if I could “come down right away.” What is the correct answer to a question like that? The nearly always inaccurate “No problem” seems to work best.
I just looked out the window again, and we are definitely over NE California – probably just over the border. Well, there you go – the captain just announced that we are passing Mt. Shasta. On my side of the aircraft, the terrain is flat and under intense cultivation; lots of square patches in varying shades of green and brown. The front row of the Sierras, straight as a backbone, and fully capped in snow, is running along the visible eastern horizon like one of those white lines they paint on the side of road to keep you in the lane and out of the weeds. I’m currently more about staying in the air, and out of the weeds!
A word about the plane; it’s a Boeing 737, 300 Series. Relatively new, it has large canards at the wing tips and I notice it is very stable in the air. I’m used to whatever Alaska flies, and I like this plane better. It’s a wider body and seats six across, rather that the cramped 4 of the Alaska planes. Make no mistake, we are jammed in here like sardines, it’s just the can that’s bigger. Nice crew, more of them. The drinks are better. I’m having a vodka cranberry blast with fresh limes. Excellent, tangy punch-like taste. Definitely a college crowd Spring Break special. I had the presence of mind to have a really good, sit-down breakfast at the airport, so I haven’t any regrets that they don’ serve food – even though I will miss the “lunch hour” on this flight.
Pilot has announced we are on the glide path to land at Sacramento (my ears told me that!), and I opened my window to look out upon the absolutely beautiful, snow covered peaks below. What a spectacular view. The snow is thin though; clear cuts on the sunny side of the slope are bare ground, and only those on the shady side are still white. One other thing the snow does, other thanlook pretty, is emphasize how many dormant volcanoes are down there. So many peaks have that telltale dimple at the top.
We’re getting lower in the sky. The inevitable crying baby warning has sounded; ears are hurting, and it’s time to put up the tray tables.
It’s about 1:00 p.m., and we are out of Sacramento and above 10,000 ft, so the “electronic gadget” sign if off. Even if one can’t access the Internet from a plane – yet – it still passes the time wonderfully fast to use your lap top to type and prepare emails to send when you do get to a hot spot.
Sacramento from the air is much larger than I imagined. Very distinct “old” and new sections; much like Portland, in that it has at least one river running through it and a number of large bridges. I’ll make it back there in a month or two.
We appear to be flying to the east-south-east, away from population and into noticeably more turbulent air as we approach the snow capped peaks of the Sierras. Oh my God! I’ve got a straight in view of Yosemite! Absolutely breathtaking! Sugar Loaf, and El Capitan capped with a dusting of white. That is quite a gash in the landscape!
Even higher peaks ahead – I have often wished I’d brought a Google type aerial map with me, with signage – so I’d be able to look out the window and know what I was looking at. Yosemite is obvious. But some of the interesting lakes below are not. I’m looking at one very large, very high lake that is obviously still frozen solid. The much higher back row of the Sierras is clearly visible now, and the snow pack looks pretty good. Yet, down below the snow line, all the lakes have that big edge of bare earth, where the water line used to be. From this altitude, that must measure several hundred feet in width, although probably about half that in lake in depth.
My stewardess didn’t collect for my cranberry blast on the first leg, and on the second I ordered another one. She has declined to accept my money at all! Yes! I am a Southwest flier from now on.
A new seat mate took the place of the silent gentlemen on the first leg. This time, it’s a 22 year old college student going home for the weekend. She tells me that she is in her second year of becoming a speech pathology major and very animatedly tells me about her fascination with the field. She just starting out on the independent line of her own life; while I sit quietly contemplating the downward glide path of my own. She could easily be my grandchild, and yet she seems to be perfectly at ease speaking with me as if I were a real human being. Amazing.
My seat mate has slipped into torpor – I used to do the same thing on flights – something about a particular pitch to the droning whine of the engines. Not a bad idea, really. I'll write more when I'm on the ground. Shouldn't be too long now. If I just turn this way . . . .Ah-h.
It was 43 and raining in Portland, OR when we took off about 11:00 a.m. and it’s still cloudy even as far south as . . . wherever we are: Salem? Just peeked out the window and see that it is clearing below and we are far above any remaining clouds. Unfortunately, I had to sit on the sunny side of the plane and now I have to keep my window shade down to avoid getting fried!
I’m flying on Southwest for the first time. They had the best prices and availability on short notice to my destination. Their boarding routine is a little odd – you get a number, A or B, 1-75, and you board in numerical order, by the numbers: A 1-30, B 1-30, A 31-50, B 31-50 . . . .until all are aboard. The lower your number the better your chance of sitting where you want – it’s open seating. I was told by a lady in line that, because her husband is a frequent flyer, his numbers are automatically lower. Sure enough, there he was about 45 people ahead of her in line. This SW thing could be interesting, if your marriage was already in trouble.
One surprise; I thought I was boarding a flight that flew straight through to Ontario, CA – my ticket says that. But the pilot announced that we were “on our way to beautiful downtown Sacramento.” Surprise! That was my original destination, prior to my 95 year old father falling on a walk, cracking his rib and causing my brother to call me from the hospital to ask if I could “come down right away.” What is the correct answer to a question like that? The nearly always inaccurate “No problem” seems to work best.
I just looked out the window again, and we are definitely over NE California – probably just over the border. Well, there you go – the captain just announced that we are passing Mt. Shasta. On my side of the aircraft, the terrain is flat and under intense cultivation; lots of square patches in varying shades of green and brown. The front row of the Sierras, straight as a backbone, and fully capped in snow, is running along the visible eastern horizon like one of those white lines they paint on the side of road to keep you in the lane and out of the weeds. I’m currently more about staying in the air, and out of the weeds!
A word about the plane; it’s a Boeing 737, 300 Series. Relatively new, it has large canards at the wing tips and I notice it is very stable in the air. I’m used to whatever Alaska flies, and I like this plane better. It’s a wider body and seats six across, rather that the cramped 4 of the Alaska planes. Make no mistake, we are jammed in here like sardines, it’s just the can that’s bigger. Nice crew, more of them. The drinks are better. I’m having a vodka cranberry blast with fresh limes. Excellent, tangy punch-like taste. Definitely a college crowd Spring Break special. I had the presence of mind to have a really good, sit-down breakfast at the airport, so I haven’t any regrets that they don’ serve food – even though I will miss the “lunch hour” on this flight.
Pilot has announced we are on the glide path to land at Sacramento (my ears told me that!), and I opened my window to look out upon the absolutely beautiful, snow covered peaks below. What a spectacular view. The snow is thin though; clear cuts on the sunny side of the slope are bare ground, and only those on the shady side are still white. One other thing the snow does, other thanlook pretty, is emphasize how many dormant volcanoes are down there. So many peaks have that telltale dimple at the top.
We’re getting lower in the sky. The inevitable crying baby warning has sounded; ears are hurting, and it’s time to put up the tray tables.
It’s about 1:00 p.m., and we are out of Sacramento and above 10,000 ft, so the “electronic gadget” sign if off. Even if one can’t access the Internet from a plane – yet – it still passes the time wonderfully fast to use your lap top to type and prepare emails to send when you do get to a hot spot.
Sacramento from the air is much larger than I imagined. Very distinct “old” and new sections; much like Portland, in that it has at least one river running through it and a number of large bridges. I’ll make it back there in a month or two.
We appear to be flying to the east-south-east, away from population and into noticeably more turbulent air as we approach the snow capped peaks of the Sierras. Oh my God! I’ve got a straight in view of Yosemite! Absolutely breathtaking! Sugar Loaf, and El Capitan capped with a dusting of white. That is quite a gash in the landscape!
Even higher peaks ahead – I have often wished I’d brought a Google type aerial map with me, with signage – so I’d be able to look out the window and know what I was looking at. Yosemite is obvious. But some of the interesting lakes below are not. I’m looking at one very large, very high lake that is obviously still frozen solid. The much higher back row of the Sierras is clearly visible now, and the snow pack looks pretty good. Yet, down below the snow line, all the lakes have that big edge of bare earth, where the water line used to be. From this altitude, that must measure several hundred feet in width, although probably about half that in lake in depth.
My stewardess didn’t collect for my cranberry blast on the first leg, and on the second I ordered another one. She has declined to accept my money at all! Yes! I am a Southwest flier from now on.
A new seat mate took the place of the silent gentlemen on the first leg. This time, it’s a 22 year old college student going home for the weekend. She tells me that she is in her second year of becoming a speech pathology major and very animatedly tells me about her fascination with the field. She just starting out on the independent line of her own life; while I sit quietly contemplating the downward glide path of my own. She could easily be my grandchild, and yet she seems to be perfectly at ease speaking with me as if I were a real human being. Amazing.
My seat mate has slipped into torpor – I used to do the same thing on flights – something about a particular pitch to the droning whine of the engines. Not a bad idea, really. I'll write more when I'm on the ground. Shouldn't be too long now. If I just turn this way . . . .Ah-h.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I hate biographical detail. There are, however, a few things I can tell you without much risk, and they are:
I was born in CA in a year beginning with the number 19. I am unmarried and have no natural children. I knew Walt Disney and worked for him as one of the first 10 tour guides at Disneyland in the 60's. Working at Fender Guitar, I watched Hendrix test a custom made Stratocaster in the warehouse out back. My dad was a designer of the cryogenic hydraulics necessary to operate the landing gear on the 6th Surveyor to the moon, and I watched that happen, at Jet Propulsion Laboratory.
While living in Hawaii, I probably rode the same bus along Queen Street in Honolulu that would have carried Barack Obama, traveling between his grandparents home and Punahou School. I was once disguised and flew in a C-130 from Hickam AFB to Guam and back, on a dare from a group of master sergeants, just before the fall of Saigon. A regular at the polo fields of Mokuleia, I met their RHs Phillip and Charles on more than one occasion. Both of them smiled at me repeatedly.
I moved to Oregon in 1986 and went into hibernation. My rebirth occurred sometime in early 2007, then I became aware of the existence of a uniquely delightful silver-haired young man whom we all know and admire. I want to thank whoever was responsible for that discovery, as it sparked my interest in living a life I believed was closed to me. It wasn’t, as it turns out. I’m feeling much better now.
I was born in CA in a year beginning with the number 19. I am unmarried and have no natural children. I knew Walt Disney and worked for him as one of the first 10 tour guides at Disneyland in the 60's. Working at Fender Guitar, I watched Hendrix test a custom made Stratocaster in the warehouse out back. My dad was a designer of the cryogenic hydraulics necessary to operate the landing gear on the 6th Surveyor to the moon, and I watched that happen, at Jet Propulsion Laboratory.
While living in Hawaii, I probably rode the same bus along Queen Street in Honolulu that would have carried Barack Obama, traveling between his grandparents home and Punahou School. I was once disguised and flew in a C-130 from Hickam AFB to Guam and back, on a dare from a group of master sergeants, just before the fall of Saigon. A regular at the polo fields of Mokuleia, I met their RHs Phillip and Charles on more than one occasion. Both of them smiled at me repeatedly.
I moved to Oregon in 1986 and went into hibernation. My rebirth occurred sometime in early 2007, then I became aware of the existence of a uniquely delightful silver-haired young man whom we all know and admire. I want to thank whoever was responsible for that discovery, as it sparked my interest in living a life I believed was closed to me. It wasn’t, as it turns out. I’m feeling much better now.
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