by Patricia Stewart | Apr 6, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“Quite frankly,” said Stuart Whitley, the Director of Operations at Computerwood, “I am not pleased with this vendetta that you’ve launched against our movies. We are clearly producing products that the public wants to see.”
“The public makes emotional judgments, not rational ones,” was the flat response of Kostas Kritikos, movie critic for the World Times.
“I think that you’re the one being irrational,” Whitley retorted. “How can you not accept the fact that computer generated movies are substantially better than the old cellulous ones? The quality is so perfect; I challenge anyone to tell the difference between a flesh and blood actor and today’s computer generated counterpart. It’s the best thing to happen to the industry since the talkies. We no longer need those pampered, spoiled brats, whining about their trailers, the hours, and so-and-so having better lines than them. We’ve also eliminated the need for sets, props, and location shoots. We’re free from weather delays, agents, and actor strikes. We produce a better product, on schedule, for less money. It’s a perfect solution, Mr. Kritikos.”
“I couldn’t disagree with you more. Your movies are a travesty. The industry has a proud heritage dating back more than 100 years. You can’t create great movies in a warehouse basement using a couple of programmers and a supercomputer.”
Whitley indicated the mammoth trophy case packed with more than one hundred golden statuettes, “That cabinet full of Oscars, Mr. Kritikos, says that you’re wrong. Besides, you’re over simplifying the process. We still have screen writers, directors, storyboard artists, concept artists, texture artists, animators, riggers, compositors, and sound designers working on every production.” He steepled his fingers. “Let’s cut to the chase, Mr. Kritikos. What’s your real problem with our pictures?”
“Since you’ve asked, it’s what you’ve done to the classics. Shirley Temple playing Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, Ronald Reagan staring in Casablanca rather than Humphrey Bogart, Gary Cooper playing Rhett Butler, and Tom Selleck as Indiana Jones. For the love of God man, have you no decency? Those movies are the very heart and soul of Hollywood, and you’ve desecrated them.”
Whitley smiled. “Each of those people was the director’s first choice to play those leading roles. We’re letting the public see the movies that could… no, should have been. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Kritikos, our remakes are exactly what would have been released had the directors had the actors that they initially wanted. Tell me Mr. Kritikos, what can I do to convince you to write a favorable review?”
“There is nothing that you can do,” Kritikos roared. “I will fight these abominations with ever fiber in my body. Mark my words Whitley, you create one more of these vile remakes, and I’ll spend the rest of my life…”
Whitley cut him off, “That will be all, Mr. Kritikos. I’ve got what I needed. Your services are no longer required.”
“What? My services? What are you talking about? I don’t work for you.”
“Ah, but you do, Mr. Kritikos. You see, Computerwood is doing research into new product lines. As a consequence, we needed advanced feedback from the public, including movie critics. Unfortunately, Mr. Kritikos, you’re not a real person. Our programmers created you so that we didn’t have to actually hire a pompous, overpaid critic. Funny, isn’t it? Our characters are so perfect; they don’t even realize that they’re just a simulation. Computer, end ‘Critic 12’ program.”
An instant later, Kritikos faded away, his mouth still open.
by Patricia Stewart | Mar 22, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The attack cruiser Etherwolf docked at the Alliance Refueling Station orbiting Vesta, the second largest planetoid in the asteroid belt. Captain Olbers disembarked the Etherwolf and was greeted by the Station Commander. Sarah Wilhelm saluted sharply, and then extended her right hand. “Ah, Captain Olbers,” she said with a broad smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the legendary captain of The Black Star.” The Etherwolf received the nickname The Black Star because every enemy ship it encountered during the interstellar war with the Arcturus Empire was never seen again, similar to matter disappearing forever into a black hole. It was a reputation that Captain Olbers had no intention of dispelling. She continued, “What brings you to the asteroid belt?”
After shaking hands, Captain Olbers replied, “I’m here to pick up a priority package from Earth Command. Has it arrived yet?”
Commander Wilhelm’s jovial mood suddenly darkened. “Oh, so the package is for you. Yes, Central Intelligence arrived with it two days ago. They’ve placed armed guards around the storage bay. I can’t get within 100 meters of the bay doors. To be honest, Captain, I don’t enjoy being kept in the dark when it concerns my Station. Mind telling me what’s in the package?”
“Unfortunately, Commander, I’m afraid that information is top secret. But believe me; you’re better off not knowing. Please inform CI that they can transfer the package to the Etherwolf immediately, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
Three hours later, The Etherwolf separated from the refueling station and headed toward the Constellation Bootes. Specifically, toward the left foot of the Herdsman (otherwise known as the Bear Driver). With luck, the war with the Arcturus Empire was about to come to a swift end.
***
“Your Eminence,” reported the Arcturian Minister of Intelligence, “our situation is becoming desperate. Our spies on the Vesta Refueling Station believe that the Black Star is carrying a doomsday devise. We think they plan to destroy our homeworld. A week ago, two of our best battle cruisers engaged the Black Star in the vicinity of Beta Comae Berenices, only a dozen light years from here. Both were destroyed. We don’t know if the Black Star has an unbeatable arsenal, or the captain is a tactical genius. We’ve recalled the Deep Space Fleet to fortify the Homeland Defense. We will attempt to establish a barricade around the perimeter of our solar system. May the gods help us?”
Two days later, the Black Star entered Arcturian space. “Your Eminence, the Black Star has given us one rotation to surrender. If we don’t, they say we will be destroyed.”
“Nonsense,” blasted the Emperor. “He’s bluffing. How can one ship threaten our entire fleet? I don’t need one rotation, I don’t need one second. Attack the infidel now.”
The Arcturian Fleet swarmed toward the Black Star like a thousand angry bees. The Black Star went to warp and reappeared seconds later above the Arcturian sun. No ordinary ship could match that maneuver. The Black Star released its payload. As gravity pulled the package downward, the Arcturians tried to destroy it. Their weapons vaporized the external containment hardware, but had no effect on the contents. Solar prominences twisted in the intensifying magnetic field as the object plummeted through the chromosphere. Powerful solar flares exploded upward from the impact site, racing past the location that had previously been occupied by the now departed Black Star. The sun began to pulsate.
***
Several hours later, Captain Olbers transmitted a sub-space message to Earth Command as he returned home. “Success is a planetary nebula in the aft sensor array.”
by Patricia Stewart | Mar 17, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
Proteus is Neptune’s second largest moon. When unmanned probes were sent to explore Proteus in 2308, the radioactive decay of uranium-238 into thorium-230 revealed that the moon was not 4.6 billion years old as expected, but was less than 20,000 years old, making it the youngest astronomical body in the solar system. Consequently, GASA decided to send a manned science mission to Proteus in an attempt to understand its origin.
As the SS Verrier approached Neptune from the sunlit side, the majestic deep blue globe filled the foreground of the main viewscreen. Streaks of bright white clouds could be seen in the upper atmosphere rotating slowly around the planet. Well, perhaps “slowly” is the wrong adjective. The clouds only appeared to move slowly because of Neptune’s tremendous size. In reality, clocked at more that 1,000 miles per hour, Neptune has the fastest planetary winds in the solar system. They would be a Category 50 hurricane on an extrapolated Saffir-Simpson Scale. “Head toward Proteus, Mr. Gujarat, and set ‘er down,” instructed the captain. The helmsman dutifully entered the appropriate commands into the navigation console.
The Verrier skimmed above the irregular rocky surface of Proteus like a seagull effortlessly gliding above a choppy ocean. The helmsman selected the flat plains of the Challis Planitia, near Proteus’ North Pole. He oriented the bow of the Verrier toward Neptune and descended vertically toward the moon’s surface. When the landing pads touched down, the ship lost all power. The bridge became pitch black.
“What the…,” exclaimed the captain as the low intensity emergency lighting activated, giving the bridge a red hellish appearance. “Mr. Kelheim, what happened?”
“Unsure, Captain,” replied the Chief Engineer. “I’ll have to look at the main power grid.” He unbuckled himself and headed toward the equipment locker. “The backup batteries will provide life support for 48 hours. Hopefully, I can get the main power online before then.” With the captain assisting, they began to systematically work their way from the generators toward each of the ship’s primary stations. They replaced several overloaded power couplings and disconnected all nonessential systems. After four hours, they were ready to reset the circuit breakers. They all breathed a sigh of relief when the ship’s lighting came back on. They could hear the whine of the air circulation pumps as they ramped up to maximum. However, when the main viewscreen came online, the bridge lighting appeared to flicker rapidly. When they looked at the viewscreen, they could see Neptune rotating at an unbelievable speed. In the background, the sun was flashing like a strobe light as it was rapidly rising and setting as Proteus whipped around Neptune several times a second.
The helmsman turned toward the captain, “What’s going on, sir? Why is the universe going so fast?”
Realizing what was happening, the captain ordered, “Prepare for immediate take off. Get us off the surface, fast! The universe isn’t going faster, Mister Gujarat; we’re going slower. Apparently, there is an extreme time dilation effect on Proteus. That’s why the radioactive isotopes showed it to be so young. The flow of time has practically stopped here.”
Once in space, the Verrier returned to normal space-time. Neptune’s white clouds were again moving lazily across the upper atmosphere. The stars appeared motionless behind Neptune. “Contact Earth,” ordered the captain. “Find out how much time has elapsed.”
Even at the speed of light, it took the radio transmission four hours to reach Earth, and then four more hours for the answer to return. The year was 2395. The Verrier had been declared lost 85 years earlier.
by Patricia Stewart | Mar 6, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
Although born of desperation, it certainly seemed to be an ideal solution. Volcanologists had concluded that a devastating eruption of the Yellowstone Caldera would occur within ten years; fifteen at the most. To make matters worse, the seismological data, the spectrographic analyzes of the volcanic gasses, and the escalating pressures within of the magma chamber, all indicated that the inevitable supereruption would be Titanic, that’s with a capital “T.” In fact, it would likely rival the “Great Toba Event;” the largest volcanic eruption in the last 25 million years. It was predicted that hundreds of thousands would die in the immediate aftermath of the explosion. As catastrophic as that would be, it was insignificant compared to the loss of life that was predicted as a result of the volcanic winter caused by the trillions of cubic meters of tephra ejected into the atmosphere. The consensus opinion of the “experts” was that the Yellowstone Event would likely threaten the very existence of mankind. So, by now you’re probably wondering, dammit, what’s the ideal solution? Why, the Hephaestus Geothermic Siphon, of course.
Named for the Greek god of volcanoes, the Hephaestus Geothermic Siphon consisted of three major components:
• The massive Sigurðsson-Björk subterranean endothermic induction “vacuum” to remotely suck the heat energy from the magma chamber,
• A ring of Carnot enthalpy exchangers surrounding the caldera, and
• A gigantic array of microwave broadcast dishes to beam all of the heat energy into space.
Basically, it’s the steroid version of the system that’s been used by the Republic of Iceland to generate electricity since the mid twenty second century.
The construction of the Mega-Siphon was put into high gear as dozens of nations pitched in to help. However, because of the complexity of the project, the accelerated schedule, and the lack of adequate full scale experimental data, there were a few unforeseen operational “glitches” when the Siphon was powered up for the first time. Apparently, there was an overload in the Jónsson Alignment Compensators, which caused the endothermic vacuum inducers in Montana, Colorado, and Utah to change their focus angle. As a result, the Siphon ended up sucking heat from the Earth’s molten core, rather than from the caldera’s magma chamber. The excess heat energy then caused an uncontrolled chain reaction in the Helmholtz transfer regulators. Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you what that means. Any third grader knows that without the regulators controlling the rate of energy transfer, the Siphon goes berserk. With all the fused relays, it took over a month to shut the Siphon down. In the meantime, it sucked so much heat from the Earth’s molten core that it solidified. Now, you’re probably thinking “that’s bad,” and you’re right. The Earth needs a liquid metal core to sustain its magnetic field. Without a magnetic field, all kinds of vile charged particles from the sun and outer space can reach the surface of the Earth, and wreak havoc on a perfectly good planet, not to mention ruining your summertime vacation.
But fret not, my friends. I am told that our scientists are now working on a Celestial Angular Momentum Converter, which will bleed off orbital energy from the moon in order to remelt the Earth’s metallic core. Of course, as the moon looses angular momentum, it will begin to spiral downward toward the Earth. But again, no worries, because the scientists have assured us that they are pretty certain they can turn the Earth’s core liquid again long before the moon actually crashes into us. It certainly seems to be an ideal solution. Stay tuned.
by Patricia Stewart | Feb 20, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
I was heading toward the Bridge along Deck 12 just aft of the Station 114 Bulkhead when I heard, sorry, felt, the explosion. The shock wave knocked me into the starboard hullplate, but I managed to remain standing. I felt a rush of air flowing toward the stern of the ship, followed by the breach alarm. I knew that I only had a few seconds until the vacuum pressure doors sealed off the compromised sections of the ship. I took three long strides and dove head-first past the bulkhead just as the automated safety doors slammed shut. Had I been a few feet further away I would be dying a horrible death as the vacuum of space ripped the air from my lungs. Of course, depending on the damage to the ship, I may still die, but I figured that I had a better chance than the 200 or so crewmen on the wrong side of that bulkhead.
I rushed to the Bridge. As I entered, the captain was coordinating the structural integrity assessment with the ship’s Chief Engineer. Commander Cox was coordinating the search and rescue operation. As First Lieutenant, my job was to assist the commander.
“Ah, Lieutenant Oliver,” said the commander, “We thought we had lost you. Glad you’re still with us. Listen, the only vessel we have forward of the sealed off sections of the ship is the captain’s yacht. I need you to fly six shuttle pilots and medical teams back to the aft launch bay and transfer them to the shuttlecraft. They’ll dock to the exterior hatches in the damaged sections and look for survivors. You start docking with any personal escape pods that managed to eject. You don’t have much time. We’ll have to jettison the engine compartment before the warp core explodes. You have less than two hours.”
As the yacht passed along the hull of the Indomitable, I could see a gaping hole where the propulsion section used to be. It was venting plasma. I blasted open the flight bay doors to gain access to the shuttlecraft. I transferred the pilots and medics and we began rescuing the survivors. After 90 minutes, the commander ordered us away. “We’re losing the containment field, gentlemen. We need to sever the ship at the 128 Bulkhead before the core blows. All rescue craft back off 5000 klicks.
As we pulled away, the white-hot flash of the amputation charge arced around the circumference of the ship, separating the aft third. The maneuvering thrusters of the main portion of the Indomitable fired, and it began to move forward. That’s when I spotted a drifting escape pod. “Commander, permission to retrieve another pod,” I requested.
“Negative, Mister Oliver. There’s not enough time to dock.”
“I don’t need to dock, sir. I can use the grapple,” I pleaded. “I can make it.”
The Commander hesitated a few seconds, and then said, “Okay Lieutenant, you have one shot. Hit or miss, you pull out at maximum speed. And, so there won’t be any misunderstanding, that’s an order!”
“Understood, sir.” Fortunately, all those training exercises paid off. I managed to snag the pod cleanly and towed it toward the escaping forward end of the Indomitable. At 5200 klicks, the Indomitable’s warp core exploded into a fireball that was so bright the yacht’s emergency shutters polarized the viewports. Ten seconds later, they depolarized to reveal the debris field silently expanding. I watched as thousands of molecular fragments impacted the yacht’s shields and harmlessly dissipated as tiny flashes of light.
