Another Cthulhu Beach "Lady"

Somehow I don't think this one is planning on surfing or swimming.

I imagine that Cthulhu isn't that picky about virgin sacrifices either. Probably a good thing.

Cthulhu Summer

It's been unseasonably hot around here and Cthulhu has taken advantage of it. Personally, I've been busy, Busy, BUSY. I'll just have to owe you Friday and Saturday's Cthulhoid images. I'm evil that way,

Bwahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

"Clarity" of Purpose

I have a long class today on some new system at work called Clarity. It's supposed to track our work hours and output.

Sounds elderitch to me.

Skeptical Cthulhu

Seems they missed one, or maybe Cthulhu is outside the realm that this depicts.

Anyway I couldn't decide which to put on the tree so I posted both.

I've been listening to the podcast called Scepticality. They've got some very good points and it made me think about the Darwin fish and this Cthulhu fish.

The funny thing is, the Skeptics say that they aren't specifically against religion, but only because religion does not rely on evidence at all and is therefore untestable. I'm sure any evidence anyone ever offered for religion or god would be fodder for investigation.

The previous religious post I put up said that maybe we can look at God as ourselves outside of this dream that we call life. If that is so it fits exactly into what the skeptics are saying.

Whatever scientific experiments you conduct in a dream are only valid within the dream logic and reality. If God is outside that then God is untestable, but not unknowable.

Can't you tell something about a person by examining his dreams?

I dreamt of unknown Kadath last night, what does that mean?

BTW, FSM is Flying Spaghetti Monster for those of you who didn't talk like a pirate on 19 Sep.

Feeling a Bit Green

My youngest has been having assignements lately where she has to collect leaves, flowers etc. so I'm feeling a bit green.

I don't know enough about trees so I'm going to pick up a book at the library tomorrow.

Um, this guy here, although technically "green" I don't think he would make anybody from Greenpeace happy.

Actually, I don't think he could make anyone happy, although:

"The time would be easy to know, for then mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all men shouting and killing and revelling in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones would teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom." From "The Call of Cthulhu" by H. P. Lovecraft

Just Another Cthulhu Monday

I'm just keeping with the girly theme.

That movie was a bit disturbing.

My favorite part was when Ben Stiller mangled Bret Favre's name. I agree. It should be Fav-ray or Fav-er. No way should it be Far-v.

GO BEARS!

Religion and Faith: Introducing Lucidment

I mentioned before that my faith had become untethered. I had read an article in the July Scientific American and it shook my faith badly enough to set it adrift.

I had been thinking, "What if Life is the worst it gets?" What if this life that we are living right now is as bad as it is going to get and that Heaven is going to be better. I already said that I don't believe in Hell so that made sense, but I never looked at it that way. If it were true then all the pain and injustice in life is just because this is our lesser existence. It isn't a trial, it just is bad. Some times life isn't too bad, but if it is then don't worry because Heaven is better.

That doesn't address the fundamental problems I was having with my faith, mainly that there is no way that God can be both omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent; and revealed. Science is revealing a universe too complex and random from a participants view to be knowable in the whole.

I had been thinking that God was like a clockmaker and that he had set the rules of the universe and let it run itself. This may have been the reason that increased knowledge in the physical laws made the existence of God less tenable. What if that isn't the nature of God, but then what would account for all that science tells us and still leave room for God?

I recently listened to most of a podcast by the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids (OBOD). In podcast 8, the speaker was Tim Freke. He said something that really rang true to me. It also addressed the problem I was having. He said that life as we know it is a dream. Everything and everyone in the dream is really us. This is very similar to the Buddhist view and I had heard it before, but I never looked at it this way.

He said basically that enlightenment is like having a lucid dream. If you are enlightened, you are like a dreamer that knows he's dreaming. When we are not enlightened you are like a dreamer who doesn't know he is dreaming and you think your life is real.

I am going to call this state of knowing that you are "dreaming" as "Lucidment." This will help me understand enlightenment better and help me think of it in terms of "the dream."

This world view means several things to me right off:

1. God is not separate from us.

2. Life can be good or bad but it doesn't REALLY affect us.

3. There are no alternatives (Hell vs. Heaven) to waking.

4. Life can be beautiful. We can enjoy it and we can make it more beautiful.

5. The universe is the dream and it obeys different "dream" logic and rules. All our scientific knowledge is based on "dream" logic and laws. This means that everything science is telling us is about the "Dream" and has nothing to do with God or the "Waking State."

6. "God" doesn't have to be omniscient or omnipotent. We don't know everything in our dreams, but the dreams are us, everything in the dream is us really, although it seems like different people and things happening to us, they are really things we are thinking about and "doing" to ourselves.


This also immediately begs many questions to me, but the questions don't diminish my hope for a renewed faith:

1. Who is the dreamer?

2. What is the nature of the dreamer?

3. If the dreamer is me then am I everyone or am I only me and everyone else is no one?

4. Do we lose ourselves when we wake?

5. What is the goal of life?

6. Do we want to be a remembered dream?

7. Is life outside the dream good or bad?

8. Is the dreamer good or bad or something else?

9. Is there good and evil?

10. Can you make moral decisions (for instance, in dreams you can commit crimes, but you can't be prosecuted for them)?

I will want to address these questions in later posts. Also, because church is a perfect time to reflect on faith, I think that Sunday would be a perfect time to record here my thoughts on religion and faith.

Other issues I thought of today that I want to cover eventually:
- What is religion?
- What is prayer, what is it good for, what is it not?
- Why should you attend church?
- What do you do with Bible readings?
- What about preset prayers, the Creed and the Our Father?
- Why are we not in communion with God?
- If there are no miracles then there can be no transubstantiation, what does this mean?

I Owe You One

I missed yesterday so I owed you one. Here are two Cthulhoid images of ladies corrupted by the Great Old One's influence.

The first one is because I was thinking in church today about the Holocaust. I was thinking that the Holocaust should become part of the Jewish tradition and be honored and remembered by holy days and such.

Isn't Chanuka the remembrance of a siege won with the help of God? Wasn't the story of David and Goliath about Israel winning in a war with God's help? I should think that the Holocaust is on a par with any of what Christian's call the Old Testament. I don't know the Talmud (I think that's where you find Chanuka), but I would think it rivals those deliverances there too.

Who decides these things? What would it take to get the Holocaust into the holy books?

He is the One!

Forget Obama, Oprah was wrong. Cthulhu is the one!

Cubs Lose

This was from the '04 campaign when the real slogan was either, "four more years," or "four more years?"

It struck me this morning that it could also be similar to the Cubs mantra this past century, next year, next year.

I suppose it could also be political if you consider any Republican win as four more years of Bushism.

I'll have another political one tomorrow, or are there no more tomorrows?

I don't know, ask the Cubs.

A Faith Adrift

As I said, this is a webLOG and this post is the first in what I think will be the log part of my blog.

This will probably change as I go along. I may edit this post, or I may just add more posts.

I put in my PDA some of the things I was thinking about God, faith and religion.

Here it is straight out of the handheld:

"A religion that venerates god, but does not appeal to god for intercession? I never thought god would step in and "fix" everything. Miracles are how you choose to view or experience events AND/OR how they Affect YOU.


09/27/08 more added 29Sep08

I believe:
1. Something or someone started the universe
2. There are powers greater than us
3. Free will
4. Evolution
5. If there is a god who is involved with us then he is good and loves us
6. There are other intelligent races in the universe other than human that are on a similar (IE not godlike) level
7. The universe is nearly infinitely complex and unknowable in the whole (analogy: you can know how bricks work and how to make and lay them, but not have knowledge of all of the Great Walls in China or even all the walls in all the houses in England).
8. Religion was created by man.
9. Religious people are not stupid
10. Non-religious people are not just people that haven't been enlightened (born again etc.)


I don't believe:
1. God is:
--a. Omnipotent, omniscient, knowable, revealed, AND interventionist (he may be some of these, but not all)
--b. Angry
--c. Predeterministic
--d. A conscious earth or biosphere
2. The universe is completely random
3. Miracles
4. Angels
5. Reincarnation
6. Satan
7. Hell
8. Ghosts
9. UFOs have visited us
10. Prayers can have any physical effect (see miracles)
11. Magic (see miracles)

I hope:
1. There is God
2. There is a heaven"

Are the Stars Right? The Atlantians Wanted to Know

Are the stars right again? Why yes they are. It is Cthulhu Month again. I'll be plopping a Cthulhoid image in a post daily (cross your fingers and hope to go insane).

The stars truely are right! The first of my mythos type stories, (Northern Faerie Ring) has appeared as a podcast on Yog Radio. The said they would be delighted to read aloud: "Bellwether's Asteroid" and "Northern Faerie Ring." I can't wait for Bellwether to show up too!

This Blog May Become a Web LOG

My dad has cancer (again). My sister-in-law had suggested that my mom keep a journal and I think I may have to do that. So that got me to thinking, this is a web LOG, or a journal. Then I thought, no that's too public. Then I thought, well, no one comments even if I beg them so the 20 or less people who come here a week are probably not here to read or participate, what the heck.

It's an entirely different perspective on this blog. I've always seen it as a soap box, a public forum, a mouthpiece, a place to publish my writing and my ideas. This new perspective is that it is a private, personal journal of things I write to me for me, except that it is left out on the coffee table of the public TV room for anyone to read. Since I'm not a millionare or a teen aged girl, no one is interested in reading my thoughts. I'm safe in leaving it here in the open.

As long as I don't expect a discussion this would be a fine place to record my thoughts and feelings.

Don't get me wrong, I'd love for this blog to become the hottest thing on the net. I'd love for people to flock here for a lively debate and a really good read. I'd love for some big shot producer (like maybe Speilberg) to call and say, "Hey Prop, I read that story on your blog and I'd love to make a movie out of it, have your people call my people..."

But I'm not expecting it.

And maybe I shouldn't be disappointed if it doesn't happen.

Happy Autumnal Equinox

"That's all I have to say about that."

Well, almost.

I'm not a tree hugger; I don't subscribe to the Gaia theory; I'm not Wiccan or Neopagan; heck, I don't even subscribe to the current notion of global warming (they still haven't shown me definitively that humans caused it, that it is a bad thing, that humans can "fix" it, that humans should "fix" it, that trying to "fix" it won't do more harm than the "problem", that we should spend any money on it...) but I am an Eagle Scout.

I believe we should live in harmony with the land. Is nature perfect, no. Are animals or trees more important than people, no. However, I think we should work to make our technology help nature and work with it instead of against it.

We have become too detached from nature. Heck, we ignore day and night by just moving the clocks as we will. Not only are we missing out on something truly spectacular, if we ignore nature, surely it will come back and bite us on our collective tushes.

And THAT is all I have to say about that.

Happy Autumnal Equinox!

ARGH It Be Talk Like a Pirate Day!

I done went ta the Talk Like a Pirate Day website an' took their bloomin' test. I mean I completed the test, I didn't take it, like booty or plunder.

The first time 'round they pegged me fer a pantywaist, but I came 'round agin and gave it 'nother broadsides. I scored me a Cap'n rate.

ARGH! I be good ta be the Cap'n!

New Horror Story Ideas

I'm gearing up for NaNoWriMo this year (I think I'm going to write a noir mystery), but because the weather was so bad last week, I felt like writing a horror story.

I did a lot of background work, but then I got an email that the deadline for the Whortleberry Christmas anthology is 1 Oct 08 so I have to stop for now and write that.

I really think I will come back to this story though, because I like it so much.

By the way, I didn't win the Wildclaw Theatre radio play contest. I entered two plays and I think there wer nine winners, but I'm not one of them. They did ask if they could keep all the plays so they could put them on later in the year if they have time. If they don't then I'll post them here.

Anyway, without further ado, I will post the background information I developed for my horror story. I'm calling it "Beneath the Altar of an Unnamable God."

I. Possible Story Titles:
A. Beneath the Altar of an Unnamable God
B. In the Hands of Angry Gods
C. Aliens Among Us
D. Darkness of the Book

II. CHARACTERS
A. Librarian - Jerome "Jerry" Lawrence
--1. Is an archivist
--2. Chews nicotine gum
--3. Wears glasses, tie and vest
--4. Wears leather shoes oxfords mostly
--5. Tall and thin
--6. Loves collecting books
--7. Awkward around women, but not a virgin
--8. Brand new grad student still in dorm, but never spends time there
--9. Tenor voice
B. Young woman - Imogene
--1. Cherub with platinum curly hair (recently permed), emerald eyes with flecks of forest green, freckles and a very curvy body. Often wears very low cut tops and the highest heels she can because she is only 5'. Today she is wearing knee high brown boots, jeans and an Icelandic sweater in blues, crème and green that accentuates her breasts. He can only smell her when she gets really close, and then it is a clean, healthy smell with very slight hint of lavender.
--2. He knows her or has seen her around
--3. Dies before the end
C. Femme Fatale - Chloe
--1. "Slender woman who moves, not like a cat or a dancer, but deliberately and forcefully, not a movement wasted, like a powerful athlete, but not built overly athletically." She wears a white blouse and a tight wool skirt with stilettos and her dark, straight hair in a ponytail. Her skin is olive.
--2. She too does not have a strong aroma, but when close she smells fresh and sharp like a cold ocean breeze.
--3. The first photo is her initial appearance to lure unsuspecting men; the second is used if she needs to entice a man.
--4. What does she do or say?
D. George Sebastian
--1. "There was a young man with an arm load of books who glanced at me and said, 'good morning,' but didn't stop moving his books. He had a white tee shirt and jeans on. He was barrel-chested and just a bit shorter than me. His skin was the color of dark chocolate and he wore his hair natural, but short. He put his books down and asked me, 'may I help you?' I said, 'I'm Jerry Lawrence, I'm going to be the librarian here.' He smiled broadly and extended his hand, "Happy to meet you sir. I'm George Sebastian."
--2. Son of a Chicago Firefighter. Learned good manners and hard work from his father who learned it from his farmer father. George loves to visit his grandfather's farm and he loves dirt and rocks. He is a natural geologist.
--3. Goes to lick the temple and is stopped. He seems confused that they are so afraid. Geologists do it all the time.
--4. Completely and unshakably sane.
--5. Not talkative
E. Peter Nicostratus PhD
--1. Blind prof. Heavyset and bearded. Looks evil, but is good
--2. No eyes
--3. Office next door to the library.
--4. Suspected of abducting Imogene
--5. "'You must understand, I had to stop the visions. I gouged my own eyes out with my fingers.' 'Dear god.' George said. 'Yes.' Nicostratus' breath was ragged and he smiled only with his mouth, 'The thing is, you don't dream with your eyes. It did me no good.' He shook his head and his smile spread to the rest of his face, 'so I got chummy with some people who were connected with the mafia. The interesting thing about mob doctors is they will do any thing for money and they won't tell a soul. I had my optic nerve severed and I could finally sleep at night.'"
F. Lucy La Barbara PhD
--1. Thin wears long clothes so you can't see her body.
--2. Evil. Member of the cult (or actually a modified version of an EA) and she's modified her body (maybe hairy or deformed and twisted with the power)
--3. Jerry's advisor
--4. "Professor La Barbara called me into her office. She was wearing a typical outfit for her, a long sleeve blue blouse and an ankle length peasant's skirt with blue and green paisleys. She never wore any jewelry that could be seen outside her clothes. The only parts of her body I had ever seen, in fact, were her ankles, hands, neck and face. I had the impression that she was a long distance runner because she always seemed to be swimming in her ubiquitous baggy clothing, but I had never been able to confirm her build as athletic and I had never seen any other evidence that she ever exercised. She was always full of energy, but not bouncy. Her skin was ivory white, like she had never seen the sun, but not veiny or sickly. Her face was pleasant enough, but highly angular and I couldn't tell how old she was. She had to be over thirty, because of her position and the fact that she just didn't have that glow and softness of youth, but she could have been anywhere between thirty and eighty. Her hair was almost black and she wore her waves long enough to cover her collar and her ears, but with no discernable style. Her eyes, too, were almost black. Her teeth were her own, I was sure, but they were almost too straight, too white. She arranged her face into a smile when I came into her office."

III. STORY
A. Jerry is assigned to the new Geology library for the Earth Science Department.
B. Chloe and George are there. Chloe is looking out the window smoking and notices the black stain of a fire on the roof below.
C. Jerry assigns handy work to G and shopping to C
D. Later I comes in and just wants to spend time with J
E. Prof N is seen and is scary
F. G finds the temple in the wall behind a crack caused by the '08 earthquake
G. They all examine in and I offers to take it to her GF to look at
--1. She never arrives with it
--2. Temple and I are missing, presumed dead, but the police won't investigate
--3. C tells J that he has to find out what happened
H. J dreams the translation of the temples carved words
I. Investigation ends up showing that the cult has been making sacrifices on the roof
--1. All the windows on the library wall are blackened or covered. The opposite wall is blank (the outside wall of a theater).
--2. J escapes with the knowledge of the cult, but they are watching him and he can't do anything about it. They let him live.
--3. N helps protect J because he knows things
--4. G physically helps J, pulls him out of somewhere, physically rescues him to take him to N
--5. I was killed by aliens, not the cult

IV. Possible Story Components
A. Statuette of temple that is made of 5 billion year old rocks and is wrong geometry. Or it's carved from fossils that are from before life in its current state existed on Earth (>4 billion yo)
B. Reel to reel tapes that contain information that someone died for. That person never intended to have anyone else see the info, but died before he could destroy it.
C. Same as above, but with floppies (not quite as old)

V. Possible Storylines
A. Librarian is sent to a new library (think NG armory) really a very small old office.
--1. Pile of books and old desks
---a. Tapes or floppies could be found in old desk or closet
--2. Two ROTC part time help or part time help from whatever college this is
B. Cherub approaches librarian (this could be a lot like Maltese Falcon) with
--1. Keys to grandfathers …
--2. Brother died trying to find out about the cult
--3. Offer to show him the temple
--4. A book
--5. 5.25" floppies or key to where they are stored
--6. Reel to reel tape or key to where they are stored
C. Librarian discovers the true nature of the Night of the Purple Fog
D. Illinois earthquake
--1. '08 Earthquake cracked open a wall revealing the temple statue
---a. In the library
---b. In Imogene's GF's or brother's
--2. There is an alien under the NMSA
---a. Revealed by the new Geology library find (tapes etc) (NM or recent)
---b. Revealed by Imogene's GF or Bro's investigation (NM and/or recent)
---c. Cult worship and prayers/spells CAUSED the earthquakes

I think these are three separate stories, but they could all be investigated by the same librarian:
§ Temple
§ Noir
§ Night of the Purple Fog
§ Earthquake

Won't Get Fooled Again

I wrote this story for a contest somewhere a while ago. I didn't win. I'm going to write a radio play for a contest by Wildclaw Theatre and I'm going to use the antagonist in this story, I think.

The story is a sort of sequel to Bellwether's Asteroid and it concerns the entity Aachiang.

As a side note, I hate the proliferation of the present tense in contemporary speech and how it is corrupting literary skills. People use the present tense when they tell stories to each other and now I'm seeing it more and more in "literature." I don't think most even know they are doing it.

There is a time and place for present tense and talented writers can use it at time to draw the reader in and make the story more real and personal. That is what I tried to do here. I consciously chose the present tense and I hope I made it work.

EDIT: I just realized that this story was posted on Illini6 earlier. I took it off the previous post and I put it here.

CAUTION : CONTAINS SCENES OF A VIOLENT RAPE.

Won’t Get Fooled Again

“Don’t make a sound.” He slams me, face first against the car with his hand clamped on my mouth.

My asthma. Throat tightens.

He’s undoing his pants. Oh God! My eyes search the dark empty lot. Dear God. He’s hiking up my skirt with his free hand. He’s using his left thigh to press mine against the car. His erection is sticking me in the ass cheek.

Can’t breathe. Gasping through his fingers, mouth open wide.

“Not a sound bitch.” He’s growling. His breath is hot on my ear. It stinks. He reeks. I’m tasting it.

His hand moves to the back of my neck. He’s sliding me down to the hood of the car. He’s smashing my face into the steel. He’s kicking my feet apart.

I’m gasping and wheezing.

“I said shut the hell up bitch whore.” He hits me in the head. He’s ripping my panties off, finding his target. I feel hard, wide flesh pressing against.

The hood is hit with something like a bullet. The noise it makes is like a tiny airplane crashing.

“What the hell?”

Another hits, and punches right through. They are falling all around. Falling from the sky.

He’s looking up and loosens his grip. I’m looking up. The sky is filled with tiny glowing meteors. They strike the asphalt lighting it on fire.

“What the hell are they?” He’s saying just as one hits him in the head. Half his head is gone before he knows it. I’m splattered with blood and brains.

He’s falling away from me. Falling to the ground. I curl up beside the car.

His body is lying there in filthy rags. The meteors are punching the lot, melting it. They glow white-yellow, the size and shape of pumpkins seeds.

My breath is coming back. The car rocks as more strike, but I’m in the shadow.

The body is moving. God, he’s getting to his knees. I see it, the meteor glowing in the shattered eggshell of his head, but he’s moving. On his hands and knees now, head bowed toward me.

His brain is bubbling, sizzling. I’m smelling hot tar and burning flesh.

His bones are growing. His skull is closing around the boiling, glowing meteor-brain mix. It’s closing faster. It seals with a snap.

He’s lifting his head. His eyes have that same yellow-white glow. His face is blank.

He’s beginning to smile. It’s spreading across his face and up to his eyes. He’s looking at me.

He’s standing above me. He’s looking out over the car.

“Yes. This time Aachiang understand. Aachiang, I won’t misjudge again.”

He’s looking down at me. He’s licking his lips.

“Yes. A rape is an excellent way to start,” he’s laughing.

I wheeze and wheeze.

Fiction vs Nonfiction

I find fiction far easier to write than nonfiction.

That's probably why my posts here have been few and far between. I've been writing, but the stuff I've been writing I'm sending out to try to get published for money.

Crass I know, but if I'm going to have writing as a hobby I have to pay my way with it a bit. it seems selfish and a waste of time if my writing doesn't pay SOMETHING.

They say, do what you love and the money will follow. If that's true then money is taking the long way around.

Anyway, the point of this post is that I have a hard time writing nonfiction, maybe because the world doesn't work the way I think it ought to (see my last paragraph) but it will if I'm writing it. On this blog you get either original fiction, which means that I've abandoned all hope of making money off that particular piece; or nonfiction, which I struggle with.

Should I give out more free fiction or make my posts both nonfiction and very few and far between?

Quick Update

This is going to be a quick update because I have been long absent from this site and I have a major change.

I have moved to a new shift and now work mornings and get off at 1430.

I will make more posts, some even backdated, I promise.

The Barfight on Simplicity Genoid

Here is a story I wrote for a contest. The requirements for the contest were 1000 words or less, about a punch, and ending in the words, "until there was nothing left." This is the story in which I introduced the term "genoid" to mean an artificially created world (to replace the term "spabitat" for space habitat).

The Barfight at Simplicity Genoid

"The Barsoom Princess is ready to fly." Felton Lamy of the Medelhanian military officer caste looked down at me disapprovingly with his red eyes. I was far from ready to go.

"That woman is here isn't she?"

I smiled.

"I don't know why you have to see her every time she’s on a world we visit." He sat next to me and waved for a drink.

"Call it devotion."

If a woman wasn't of the genetically engineered caste Lamy was approved to mate with, he had no interest with her. Me, I liked Earth women on the rare occasion I could get them. Simplicity was probably the last world in the System I'd expected to find any Mudders, let alone my dear Sarah Durrah.

Simplicity was a backwater genoid off the Belt’s trade vectors. It was a hollow cylinder of rock, barely larger than a Bernal Sphere housing about twenty thousand "Simpletons." Like the Amish of twentieth century USA, the Simpletons didn't believe in “modern” technology, but they did believe in modern cash. Simplicity meant no danger from the League, just prudish local leaders.

They weren’t overly religious. The no-technology kick was more a philosophy than religion. They didn't believe in god any more than anyone else in the System. Their moral code did not extend to seedy bars, prostitution, or thankfully to, let’s call it exotic dancing.

The house lights went down, the stage was limned and tinny music played. Technology of the twentieth century was backward enough for these people. Electric lights and canned music were fine.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the voiceover announced, "please join me in welcoming a very special performer, Miss Sarah Durrah!"

Sarah leapt onto the stage. She was from Earth, with Earth grown muscles and bones. They were far more than adequate for the System Standard Gravity employed on Simplicity. SSG, dating back to the first missions to Mars, was equal to the gravity on that planet. It was used whenever humans had control of the level of gravity.

For Sarah Durrah it meant that she had to be careful not to launch herself into the ceiling or let her act get too acrobatic. She didn’t want to give her origin away to the xenophobic Simpletons. She was a master though, and within those constraints, she was amazing.

She jumped and twirled around the chrome poll center stage. She wore sheer silk pantaloons and a blouse, but their translucency revealed only promised glances as her body moved and swung in great arcs. Like a true artist, she was suggestive and exhilarating without being salacious, although the audience would later swear that she wore less and showed more than she ever did.

It was over all too soon. Long minutes had passed with no one noticing. The audience was satisfied, but not satiated. In content delirium, they gave her a standing ovation as she left the stage. I took the opportunity to grab Lamy's arm and encourage him to follow me to the back of the bar.

This place was so poor they didn’t have a backstage, just one dressing room for all the acts with a door leading right from the main room. Sarah made her way along the wall that led to the door. She had to wait for the next act, a blues band called The Old Chicago Five, to pass her.

As she moved and waited, men harassed her. They wanted a more personal dance, but she wouldn’t do that for all the money in this backward rock. They ignored her refusals. By the time we were close enough to hear, she had had enough.

The leader of the rude crew grabbed a couple of pieces of her topography that should have remained terra incognita and she forgot herself.

She delivered a right uppercut that broke his jaw and not only lifted him off his feet, her Earth-grown muscles, unleashed, threw him over the heads of those behind him.

Even the Simpletons couldn’t ignore her muscles and their undeniable origin. The cry went up, “Alien!”

Those that witnessed the punch knew the alarm was for Ms. Durrah, but not everyone had seen the earthly feat of strength. The majority only saw a crowd descending on their object of desire with intent to harm. Those rose to her defense. Some near us thought the warning was regarding Lamy, whose massive bulk and fiery red eyes could only be tolerated if he were spending money and his departure were imminent. Neither was true now and he posed a perceived threat. They attacked him.

I somehow escaped notice. I knew that if no weapons more dangerous than a falling piano were brandished both Sarah and Felton Lamy were in no real danger. Our mission on Simplicity was though.

I examined the situation for an exit strategy when I noticed the sax player from the band beckoning me toward the stage. I positioned myself so that Lamy’s fight would be canalized toward the stage. I had to throw a couple of elbows and knees, but I kept him moving in the right direction.

By the time we got to the stage the different native factions were so busy fighting each other for the chance to defend Sarah or to alternately attack her or Lamy that they were too preoccupied to actually fight either one. I focused Lamy’s attention to the aged sax player.

He seemed like a spry centenarian, old but with all his faculties. That is, until he opened his mouth and said, “Where are you from Miss?”

At that point I realized that the course I had designed for myself and my crewmate was also made clear for the originator of the fight. Sarah Durrah stood next to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Earth,” she shouted above the din. The old man rolled his eyes.

“Where on Earth?”

“Chicago.”

“Ah! I thought so. I’m from ‘da cidy’ myself, but I left a hundred years ago.”

“Really?” He didn’t seem that old. He was well preserved.

“That’s why they call me ‘Old Chicago.’ Listen, we’re regulars here. There’s no back stage, but there is a back door. For a fellow Chicagoan and such a pretty lady to boot, I’ll show you the way. You’re with her, right?” He nodded to Lamy and me.

I hesitated.

“Falcon Butler, if you’ve got a fast ship I’m with you. I’m going to need a ride.”

A chair flew over my head, indicating that they belligerents had remembered their true enemy, but it didn’t register in my mind at all. Sarah Durrah knew my name. Sarah Durrah was coming with us. I was going to save Sarah Durrah.

“You got a boat Romeo?” Old Chicago asked. He had moved to the worn velvet curtain at the back of the stage.

“Yeah,” I looked into her eyes and she smiled.

“Then come on.” The old man pulled the curtain aside to reveal a door.

I later heard that the apes of Simplicity never did figure out our vanishing act. They took their frustration and xenophobia out on each other and the furniture of that bar until there was nothing left.