XPost: alt.religion.kibology, alt.webtrance, alt.slack
From: james@vandenberg.dropbear.id.au
_Schwann_ wrote:
> In article <3FF89B55.FDB3E4C0@comcast.net>, kali.magdalene@comcast.net
> says...
>> _Schwann_ wrote:
>> >
>> > my best friend is originally from Santa Barbara, (25 years ago). He
>> > prefers it here. why am i replying? because you're such a brown noser
>> > that it's (sometimes) amusing to judge the headspace of your replies...
>> > it also depends on how much leisure time I have. Since you're in
>> > education, you probably also have lots of free time...
>>
>> What an assumption to make there. I'm not in education.
>>
>> Besides, agreeing with Kevin about you? That's just sensible. I do feel
>> sorry for you, given your need to be seen as superior. Someday, you'll
>> come to terms with your own bozosity, and maybe shut the hell up about
>> how great you really aren't.
>>
>>
> You can't reply to the long post, can you? this is not surprising
> because it would take some concentration on your part. I've never said
> I'm great, it's just your (and others here in ark) insecurity that's
> showing. The sci-fi stuff I 'quoted' pisses you off because you know I
> wrote it. No one in ark seems to write anything longer than a few lines.
> Fragmented thinking taken to a-nother level? Kibo was once novel, but
> now appears mired in cynicism and sloth. C'mon Kibo, you can do it, you
> can be young and fruitful again...it's just a state of
> mind...triviology....
You want a long post? Here's a long post. Here's the start of a scifi
story. I wrote this just now, and it's my first ever story (or start
thereof), so it's not as good as I could probably make it, but I guess you
would like quantity, even if it's quality is not so hot.
* * * * *
"Over the last twelve years, we've sent out around three thousand billion.
We got a signal yesterday."
The tall, lanky engineer was folded into the chair opposite Byron
McAlister's desk. Byron's eyes lit up.
"It's possible then?"
"I think so," replied the engineer.
"I've waited all my life for this. Build the ship. You have the full
resources of Anvil at your disposal." Byron sank back in his chair. Fifty
years of planning were coming to fruition, even as he knew his body
deterioated. The engineer left, leaving Byron to dwell on his memories.
Byron was a born explorer. He had cried for hours when he first saw a globe
as a small child. All the continents were tied down by their coasts, and no
swathes of land declaring that here there be dragons. Everything was
discovered, at least on this planet.
He next turned his eye towards space. Maybe on Mars there would be land to
explore. It was the second major disappointment of his life to discover
just how extensively Mars had been mapped, both from space and ground based
surveys. No, he decided, the solar system has no opportunities for real
discovery. Deep space it would have to be.
Byron started a physics major, hoping that he would have some crucial
insight that would open up the galaxy, or at least be nearby when the
discovery was made. But, as yet another whiteboard of heiroglyphics was
wiped away without it making a dent on his mind, he realised that it was
beyond him. That was the third disappointment of his life.
He did however, have an instinct for making money. Right when the DIY
explosion hit, Byron was there with Anvil Tools. The business grew, and
Byron became wealthy. He was not, however, happy. Every time he looked at
the stars on a clear night, they beckoned to him, perpetually out of reach.
It was after one of these nights of looking at the stars with a mixture of
hope and resentment, that Byron had The Dream. He was standing in the
middle of a plain, small hills dotted here and there, all the way out to
the horizon. Above him, the sun shone brightly. He looked up, and as he did
so, the sun spread out into a ring, slowly expanding into the sky. Byron
likened it to a ripple spreading out over a pond after a stone had been
thrown in. The ring of the sun fell below the horizon, making an encircling
dusk. Then, below the horizon, the ring snapped, and became a single point
of light ahead of Byron, invisible, but causing the sky to glow brightly.
Byron woke. He called up an old friend from college, a tall, lanky man
named Harry Stocklands, and described his dream. Barry remained silent for
a few seconds. "Well," he said, "You need to stop watching late night TV.
It gives me strange dreams too."
Byron could not work the rest of the day. He kept thinking of the ring of
sunlight dropping over the horizon. As he was about to leave work, Harry
phoned, somewhat excited.
"You just make it so uncertain where the thing is, it could be over the
light horizon, beyond the universe we'll never see. Then you just make
certain it's not where you can see it. It's simple! Of course, you can't go
certain places, such as your own past, but it's possible, Byron! It's
possible!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You're dream! I know how to travel faster than light! We can go past the
edge of the universe!"
That was how the ship came to be built that took the Volunteers over the
horizon.
* * * * *
Ja-then-there-is-the-whole-part-on-the-alien-planet-mes
--
James Vandenberg Email: james at vandenberg.dropbear.id.au
GPG FP= 65AB 179A D884 EDC6 216D FE6A 6833 02BC 4425 4F70
Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum videtur. ICQ: 151135390
Beware! Sometimes forks and candles fall from the sky.
--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)
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