Rei just shook his head then laughed to himself. If only the world could see inside his brain. It had to be the craziest place in the entire universe. He tugged at Fridone’s shirt, whispered his plan and at the first opportunity, they hopped off of the troop carrier even as it was moving relentlessly toward the Vuduri compound.
“Where are you going?” asked one of the would-be colonists, seeing them jump off.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Rei shouted back to him. He pointed to Fridone. “He’s coming with me to watch for ‘falling blankets.’ We’ll catch up in a minute.”
Before the man could protest, Rei and Fridone darted into the woods. That was the last anybody saw of them.
Everything was in place. Now was the time to stitch the two separate plot-lines back into a unified whole. One last note, the section highlighted bold about the Queen of the Vuduri, you will recall that I did sneak that into the book but I just never told anybody.
Entry 3-170: June 14, 2015
Tales of the Vuduri #900
Yesterday, I published my 900th article! That's a lot of articles, I think. I've noticed there is a slight overlap once in a while with an article I wrote a long time ago and one that I've written recently. Mostly that is because the articles I wrote early on tended to be shorter and didn't really plumb the depths of the concepts presented. That was back when I was still getting up early and trying to figure out what to write about each day. A lot of pressure!
Now that I have settled into my routine of discoursing about whatever topics pop into my head, a block at a time, I have the flexibility to really go into more detail to explain to you why I did something or made a character act a certain way. I've notice that as I've droned on, more often than not the articles will be part 1 and part 2 and sometimes more, instead of trying to get it all out in a single post.
Well, the 35th century is still 1400 years away so I have a bit more time to explain myself before the future is upon us. I find books and movies that pick actual dates to be amusing. The author picked a time when they thought nobody would be around to examine it in detail but nothing stops Father Time.
Think about George Orwell's 1984. It was famous at the time and introduced the concept of Big Brother. Well 1984 is safely in the rear view mirror but Big Brother really is here. Just watch the movie Citizen Four and you'll see what I mean.
Stanley Kubrick's movie 2001: A Space Odyssey also was a bold prediction of the future but that, too, is in the rear view mirror (actually, my Camaro has a backup camera now). Pan Am isn't even in business any more, let alone running shuttles up to the Hilton orbiting the Earth.
Oh well, I think placing the story behind Rome's Revolution 14 centuries into the future buys me a little time. Thanks for sticking with me, by the way. I gots lots more coming.
Entry 3-171: June 15, 2015
Galaxy Magazine
Long before I embarked upon my writing career, I used to be a voracious reader. As I've mentioned before, first it was dinosaurs then Greek mythology but once I stumbled across science fiction, that was the end.
When you think about it, there is something science fictiony about dinosaurs and even mythology so I guess I've been into fact-based speculation since the beginning.
During my middle phase of reading, as I was gearing up to become a writer myself, I subscribed to some magazines which came monthly. These included Galaxy, If and Analog. I wasn't so wild about Analog and If eventually got merged into Galaxy. Each month's issue brought me the most amazing stories, a nice mix of famous and well-established writers and some fresh new names.
I thought that if I studied their styles and professionalism, I might be able to get published as well. That was really your only route to find an agent was to get published and make a name for yourself.
I practiced and practiced and sent in a lot of stories. In fact, one of the main reasons I acquired my first electric typewriter was to create manuscripts suitable for sending in.
All of my stories got rejected. The first bunch were accompanied by a pink or gold slip that said, in a word, no. But by the end, the last story I ever submitted, I got a hand-written letter from the editor telling me that I was very close and to keep submitting. It was the finest rejection letter I ever received! Why do I tell you this? Stay tuned until tomorrow when I tell you about the stories of my youth.
If you want to read more about Galaxy, you can click here to read the Wikipedia article. Here is a link to all the covers.
I still have all my old copies. Here's one cover so you get an idea of what I mean:
Entry 3-172: June 16, 2015
Stories of my youth
Yesterday, I told you about the influence Galaxy Magazine had on my growth as a writer. I aspired to hone my craft until one day, I would be good enough to get published. I had a gazillion story ideas. When I first started writing, I actually hand-wrote my stories. Trust me, that was a struggle. I don't have very good penmanship.
To back up a step, as a wedding present, my son Aaron (not Aason!) gave me a treasure trove of papers that had been accumulating dust in the crawlspace for 30 years. I had forgotten about them. They were the stories of my youth. The first batch, probably 20 stories, some of them multi-page, were hand-written! Amazing. They are practically illegible, after all, I wrote them three decades ago, but oh so many of them are science fiction.
Finally, my parents realized I was serious so they shelled out the money and bought me a Royal Electric Typewriter.
That's when I really went to town. I wrote story after story. You really cannot believe how many stories I found in that treasure trove.
My finest story, the one I alluded to yesterday, was called Mars, Get Ready. This was the story that I received an hand-written rejection note from the editor of Galaxy. The thrust of the story was, a long time ago, Venus, while warm, was a viable planet and a sentient, advanced life-form had developed there. But because of the atmospheric conditions, thinking and speaking were one and the same. The leaders of the colony were those that spoke the loudest.
Politically, just when the civilization had reached its peak, a war broke out and the planet was immolated completely in a nuclear holocaust. This occurred just as Earth was passing at its closest in a billion years. The radiation spark from the planet dying was just enough to cause certain amino acids in the tidal pools of Earth to join in odd ways and life began on our planet.
The story, at least the title, was supposed to be a cautionary tale stating that Venus did not die in vain but Mars better get ready. I wrote this in 1973 and I suppose nuclear fever was way up there.
I'm thinking now, that after I finish The Vuduri Companion, maybe I'll take a break and compile some of these old stories and bind them into a volume called Stories Of My Youth. What do you think?
Entry 3-173: June 17, 2015
Sage advice
Yesterday, I briefly described my journey as a hand-scrawler to a typewriter-driven demon teller of tales. I truly believed that the only way to get published was get yourself published enough times to gain the notice of an agent or publisher to sign you to a contract. I decided the quickest way to achieve that would be to write short stories and send them into science fiction magazines like If and Galaxy. I never sent anything into Analog because I always thought they were too hoity-toity.
Also, yesterday, I recounted to you my very "best" story entitled Mars, Get Ready which actually landed me a hand-written rejection notice. Woo-hoo! Well, because of the atmosphere on Venus, one of the elements was based upon the fact that the Venusians did not distinguish between thinking and speaking. Whoever said what was what you thought and you repeated it. The leaders of society were simply those with the loudest voice.
Well, a funny thing happened. In the middle part of Rome's Revolution, during the pivotal scene when Rei and Fridone are aboard the war wagon on the journey to engage the Vuduri in a war that neither side wanted,
they were talking just to distract themselves. Here is a tiny piece of that conversation. Fridone was saying that the mandasurte were not as independent as Rei thought:
“I can see now why she loves you. You are a good man, Rei,” Fridone said. “I can see why she likes to talk to you, too.”
“Nobody else does. Why will not any of these people listen to me?” Rei asked.
“Most of them, they cannot change their nature,” Fridone offered. “They are who they are whether we like it or not.”
“I can understand the frustration of the Ibbrassati,” Rei said. “But my people just got here. How can they be so ready to fight so soon? They are so, so, bloodthirsty!”
“Because they are Garecei Ti Essessoni,” said Fridone. “That title is not just because of the Great Dying. It may not apply to you but it is the trait, the hallmark of your generation.”
“I think you are right,” said Rei. “I think the Great Dying was going to happen one way or another. But the mandasurte, they should know better.”
“Puh,” Fridone said. “The mandasurte think for themselves when times are good. When times are hard, they are just like the Vuduri. They listen to whoever speaks the loudest, not the smartest.”
“The Vuduri just think with one mind,” Rei said. “That is different.”
Look at that sentence in bold. I lifted it directly from Mars, Get Ready. I ask you, is it plagiarism if you steal from yourself?
Entry 3-174: June 18, 2015
My motorcyle, part 1
This little vignette has absolutely nothing to do with science fiction or my Rome's Revolution trilogy. It is simply a true story and because of the treasure trove of materials that my son presented to me, I found the spec sheet of a motorcycle I once owned. Big deal, you say, we've all had a motorcycle at one time in our life. Maybe that is true but I wasn't allowed to own one!
Here is the true story: I was attending the University of Michigan. It was the fall of 1971. I had just moved into a co-op called the Lenny Bruce House and my roommate was a fellow who hailed from the upper peninsula of Michigan. He had a dirt bike. He let me ride it. I loved it. I had a little money saved up so one Saturday, he and I went to the Suzuki shop and I bought the motorcycle shown down below. I rode it home. It was awesome!
I called my parents to tell them about it but the conversation went a little different then I imagined:
Me: Hi Mom
Mom: Hi Mike, how is it going?
blah, blah, blah
Me: Hey Mom, what would you think about me getting a motorcycle?
Mom: Absolutely not! If I ever found out you had a motorcycle, I'd kill you!
Me: Oh...
Now being the devious person that I am, I interpreted her second statement as: as long as she doesn't know I have one, it's OK. Not really the spirit of the conversation but I did follow it to the letter.
The next few years were fun. I'd ride the motorcycle, a dirt bike really, around town. My roommate and I would go to the woods and ride. I only was injured severely once and only nearly got killed once.
The injury was when we were coming down a hill and I didn't see a stump and I hit it with the front wheel. I went flying over the handle bars and landed on my back. I was OK until I looked up and saw my 200 pounds of motorcyle up in the air and coming straight down at me. I had just enough time to roll slightly and the thing hit me in the hip. That sucker hurt me for about two years but I'm all better now.
Tomorrow, dodging bullets and death!
Entry 3-175: June 19, 2015
My motorcyle, part 2
Yesterday, I introduced you to the devious method by which I came to own a dirt bike for many years, despite my mother's insistence that I not do so. I also told you about the one time I got really hurt. There was also one time when I should have been killed.
My roommate from my sophomore year and I were riding our dirt bikes in some fields and came up over the crest of hill and I hit a bump just as we hit the top. While I normally wore a bubble face shield, when we were riding in the woods, I'd wear goggles. Well the bump caused my goggles to slip down over my eyes so that I couldn't see. I quickly kicked the shift, hoping to downshift but accidentally put the bike into neutral. I was flying down the hill and pulled the goggles up and saw I was headed straight for a rusted out abandoned car at about 30 miles an hour. I wrenched the handlebars to the left and to this day, I don't know how I didn't crash into that car.
My parents came to visit me several times over the years. Each time, I would take my bike and ride it over to my friends Bob's apartment and leave it in their parking lot until my parents went home. One time, this almost backfired on me. Because we were friends, my parents offered, one time, to take Bob and his girlfriend Ellen (who was also my friend) out to dinner with us. We went over to Bob's apartment but they were not home at the time. So we had to stand around the parking lot, waiting for Bob to get back. So get this, my Dad walks over and climbs up on my motorcycle and starts bouncing up and down. I didn't say a word!
Bob finally came home and we went up to his apartment and my orange helmet was sitting on Bob's floor. My Dad looked at it and said, oh, is that your motorcycle in the parking lot? Bob hemmed and hawed but I don't think my parents noticed. Phew.
Finally, one time, I had come home to visit and my Dad and I were standing outside and a friend of his came over on his motorcycle which was a very powerful street bike. He asked me if I had ever ridden one before and I said yeah. He asked me if I wanted to take a spin around the block and I said sure. So I put on the helmet, took it around the block and then pulled into the drive, turned it off, swung the kickstand and got off.
My father's friend who had been watching me ride turned my father and said, "He's got a bike at school." How the hell did he know? I said, no, but my friend did and I got to ride it sometimes. My Dad passed it off as silly and that was the end of it. But, as we all know, truth always finds a way.
Tomorrow, the truth finally comes out.
Entry 3-176: June 20, 2015
My motorcyle, part 3
Yesterday, I told you about my several close encounters where my parents nearly found out that I owned a motorcycle. I bought it in 1971 and successfully kept it a secret past graduation at Michigan and took it with me to graduate school in Syracuse in 1975.
It was great. It got 75 miles to the gallon. I was able to ride it year round because even though it snowed a lot in Syracuse, I got great traction because it had full knobbies, front and back. I wore a down coat and I wore a bubble helmet and a scarf so I wasn't too cold. I only got knocked off the road a couple of times by cars who didn't see me. Didn't hurt much.
I kept that thing all the way through the end of graduate school. Every time my parents came to visit, I just moved it from beneath the stairwell next to our apartment to across the parking lot, behind the dumpster. Piece of cake.
Anyway, in 1980, I had just finished successfully defending my doctoral thesis, meaning I was going to get my Ph.D. and the whole gang took me out mid-day for a celebratory beer. I guess in all the uproar, I forgot to call my Mom and tell her I had passed. She called the lab to find out my status and one of my fellow students answered the phone. The conversation went like this:
Mom: Hello, this is Ruth Brachman, is Michael there?
Lionel: I don't know. Let me check.
(He goes away then comes back)
Lionel: No, I don't see his bike.
Mom: He rides a bicycle to school?
Lionel: No, his motorcycle.
Mom (gurgling): His motorcycle?!?!
This is before cell phones but somehow, she tracked me down to whatever watering hole we were attending. The conversation went like this:
Mom: Michael, how did it go?
Me: It went great. I passed!
Mom: Congratulations.
Me: Thanks and sorry about not calling. It's just that we rushed out of there right after it was over
. I was going to call you as soon as I got a chance.
Mom: That's OK. I'm just happy that you passed.
Me: Thanks.
Mom: By the way, one of your co-workers told me you had a motorcycle. Is that true? [Dun, dun, dun]
Me: (long silence then)Uh, yeah.
Mom: Why didn't you tell me?
Me: Uh, well, you said if I ever told you I had one, you'd kill me.
Mom pauses for a moment. Then she says: How long have you had it?
Me: Uh, nine years???
My Mom made a screaming sound and I don't remember the rest of the conversation.
Well, at that point, I was married and had a baby so she couldn't very well tell me that I had to get rid of it. After we moved to Wilmette, I had the sudden realization that I was married and had a baby and maybe riding a motorcycle wasn't the most responsible thing to do. So I sold it.
I've never owned one since, honest! I've ridden a couple more here and there but for right now, I'm motorcycle-free. Maybe some day I'll get a street bike, for fun. But if I do, I promise you I will tell my Mom right away.
Entry 3-177: June 21, 2015
This little girl
Enough about my motorcycle. Back to science fiction and Rome's Revolution. After Rome and Rei had conspired on how to leverage the Deucadon's presence into a truce, Rome still had to tie up loose ends with the Overmind. As she was doing so, the Overmind had grown healthy enough to realize the irony of its situation. Remember, this was before I squashed the three VIRUS 5 books down into the single modern version. At this point, I still thought the Overmind of Earth had a hand in the planned genocide of the mandasurte, that is, death by asteroid. Rome is reminding the Overmind of the exact sequence of events that had to go down:
Tales of the Vuduri: Year Three Page 23