The Promise of Eternal…Hell?

•June 14, 2013 • Leave a Comment

The whole concept of Heaven and hell really makes absolutely no sense to any rational person capable of intelligent thought.

The Christian view of heaven is essentially the equivalent to spending a drunken night out with a close friend whom you’ve know your whole life, and bunch of total strangers. The friend, once drunk, will start to brag to all the others about all the wild, crazy, and awesome stuff that he wants them to think that he’s done. Even though you know that he’s never really done any of the things he’s talking about, because you’re his best friend, you will play along and congratulate him on all the really cool stuff he’s done.

According to Christians, this is what heaven is like, only instead of it only lasting for one night, it lasts for ALL of eternity, and an eternity after that, and eternity after that etc. Their idea of heaven is that those people who have obeyed all of gods rules, laws, and commandments that he lays out in the bible (which, since they include such things as stoning women to death for the crime of being raped and children for disobeying their parents, already makes these particular Christians not-all-that-borderline sociopathic to begin with) kneel at the feet of god ceaselessly praising him for all of the awesome stuff that he claims to have done in the bible; most of which [such as magically speaking the planet earth and every living thing on it into existence from nothing six thousand years ago] if they are even the slightest bit intelligent they will know for a fact that he never actually did (because such things are, as a matter of actual facts, physically impossible).

THIS is something [i.e. "Wow, god, wasn't that really cool when you flooded the entire surface of the earth to a depth of six miles in the fifth millennia BCE?"] That I am very nearly certain that I could not possibly pull off with a straight face.

As I have pointed out previously, however, the Christian view of hell, if such a thing is humanly imaginable by this point, makes even LESS sense. This is because, according to Christians, god created the devil to get people to disobey his commandments, and then created hell as a place where this devil he created could then punish these people for doing precisely what he created the devil to make them do.

Premise #1: God created both heaven and hell.
Premise #2: God created the devil.
Premise #3: God controls heaven, the devil is in charge of hell.
Premise #4: The devil’s goal ist get people to disobey god’s laws, rules, regulations, orders and commandments.
Premise #5: If you obey god’s laws and commandments, you go to heaven. If you don’t, then you go to hell.
SO…If god wins, and you obey his commandments, he punishes you with eternal life in heaven by making you grovel on your knees at his feet ceaselessly worshiping him for all eternity.
If the devil wins and you disobey god’s commandments, then the devil punishes you with eternal life in hell by burning you in a lake of fire for all eternity.
Either way, you’re being punished for doing precisely what the one punishing you wanted you to do.

As I have ALSO pointed out before, since the operative word in the definition of “eternity” [as in “eternal life”] is “never-ending”, either heaven OR hell; would effectively be, for all practical intents and purposes, unending interminable boredom, the most excruciating form of torment that any sentient mind could ever conceivably be subjected to (While I myself do not personally feel fulfilled in life unless I have at least tried to do three things that are punishable by various savage and barbaric forms of execution under Old Testament laws each and every single day before breakfast, even the devil would eventually run out of things to come up with to punish me for; and even if you did somehow manage to bite back your laughter long enough to thank god for “creating” each and every single atom of matter, energy, and life in the universe, you would ultimately run out things to worship him for. After that either one would be nothing left but endless repetition for the rest of time.)

While I can honestly say that I do not understand WHY it is that anyone believes so fervently that the perceptible universe is insufficient that they dogmatically convince themselves of such baseless and whimsical fantasies as gods, spirits, the supernatural, and the afterlife, I do, however, feel confident that I have a fairly firm grasp on WHY such superstitions originate and persist. By telling people who death (which any dictionary, medical or scientific, defines as the PERMANENT and IRREVERSIBLE cessation of all bodily and life functions) is instead merely the instantaneous transition from one’s physical bodies “mortal” life to one’s supernatural spirit’s “eternal” afterlife, religion seeks to assuage what is by far and away the most primordial of all human impulses, the fear of each individual’s inevitable death, a terror that traces its origin back a billion years to the self-preservation instinct of our very first multicellular animal ancestors to not be eaten.
However, where I believe religions cognitive incoherence, and thus its intellectual failing, lies is in the fact that it seeks to REPLACE this perfectly rational fear of the inevitability of our demise with it’s factually baseless GUARANTEE of an never-ending eternity of ceaseless torture.
As it is quite obvious to me, as I am certain that it has been to others before me, that whomever it was who first conceived of the concept of “eternal life” did not bother to think it through very well, I can forgive the ignorance of those who say that religion’s promise that they never actually have to die brings them comfort. What to me classifies religion firmly within the realm of mental illness are those who claim that they would, in fact, PREFER an eternity of indescribably excruciating torment to the release of mortal death. This, to me, indicates a textbook form of sadism, as their understanding that they are guaranteed to be tortured mercilessly for the rest of time brings them comfort of some sort or another. As this is widespread to quite literally BILLIONS of individuals throughout the globe, this places religions promising their adherents eternal life at best into the sphere of mass-psychosis.
This is also, not coincidentally, why such derangement poses a particular threat to children. As adults who are fully capable of rationally considering what the concept of eternal life actually means and still choose to believe in it can be safely categorized as psychologically infirm, their indoctrination of children, who are very nearly universally recognized by authorities educational, scientific, medical, and governmental alike to have not yet attained the intellectual capability for such reasoning, into such dementia effectively PRECLUDES them from ever having a chance at living an insanity-free life of intelligent and rational thought; something which I have always and forever will continue to believe to be birthright of each and every single member of our human species ever born anywhere on this planet earth.

This, in conclusion is why, while I can safely I understand the REASON behind the placement of religious figures inside hospitals, and indeed of religious hospitals themselves, I nevertheless believe it be at best severely misguided. Featuring so prominently those who seek to replace the fear of death which has driven very nearly each and every single advancement our species has ever made with factually baseless and not-so-borderline sadistic promises of eternal torment, especially in places whose sole and exclusive purpose should by all rights be that of staving off the physical body’s inevitable mortal death for as long as humanly possible catastrophically misrepresents what it means to heal. Sociopathic and sadistic superstitions have no place in houses of healing, and hospitals should be places full of the hope of better future life and work striving toward that goal, not of the irrational fear of a promised never-ending torture awaiting just beyond some feverishly envisioned borderline of metaphysical “death”.

Book I: “…To Explore Strange New Worlds…” Chapter: 2: Turn and Face the Strange

•May 27, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Captain William Cox came to his senses and awoke flat on his back on the floor of the Engine Chamber. The first thing he saw was the Quantum Temporal Slipstream Drive Core. It was dark, appearing as only just a dark blue column. Quickly checking over all of his extremities, limbs and joints, he immediately discerned that he was unhurt and uninjured.

He sat up and looked around. In the darkness of the chamber he spotted Lessia, Mara, Katherine, Jennifer, and Slaavik. “Everyone all right? Is anyone hurt?” He croaked gruffly, his voice hoarse.

“We need to get to the bridge.” Lessia said. Jennifer nodded. “I concur.” Agreed Slaavik.

 

The first to step onto the Equinox’s bridge was Jennifer Hansen. She barely got the chance to cry out as she was seized by one arm and yanked to one side.

The rest of the groups surged onto the bridge, only to be stopped dead in their tracks as they were completely surrounded by a horseshoe ring circle of muzzles of firearms pointed at them from all directions. Holding the weapons were men dressed in jet-black military uniforms and armored bodysuit

Then they heard a voice emanating from behind the line of soldiers. “Identify yourself.”

Will hesitated before retrieving his identification badge from his breast pocket. “My name is William Cox.” The ring of soldiers surrounding them parted, and a man stepped forward. Lessia’s eyes went wide, and there was an audible intake of breath from the group. The man before them was tall, with deep blue-green eyes and dark brown hair. Cox stood frozen, rooted to the spot where he stood, as he stared into his own face, his same eyes leering back at him, his mouth creased into snide half-grin on a face that was at once intimately familiar, and entirely alien.

“Who are you, Valogran?” The newcomer demanded.
Will, attempting to hand his doppelgänger his card, which was intercepted by an armed bodyguard, was still struggling to get used to looking himself in the eye. “Captain of the United Federated Star Systems starship E—” But the moment he uttered the word “captain” several of the soldiers restraining his team broke into grating laughter. Even the man across from him smirked. “A Valogran captain?” He huffed derisively. “I see now why your little scheme has failed. Poor background research on the rebellion’s part.” He looked Cox up and down. “A sloppy attempt at impersonating an imperial commander.” He glanced at Slaavik. “And you made no attempt at all to disguise your companion.” As his bodyguard handcuffed Will, his twin strode past him. “You.” His eyes shifted over Cox’s shoulder to Slaavik, being forcefully held back by four of his soldiers. “You are a Valogran.” “I am.” “Is he then your master?” The stranger indicated Cox. “He is my captain. The son of our Queen.” “You’re a half-Valogran hybrid?” He uttered the words with utter disdain, every syllable that left his lips and tongue dripping with disgust that bordered on revulsion. Cox said nothing. “Very well.” Brooks said.

He strutted up to Lessia, standing quietly and unguarded. “And what do we have here?” He reached up to sweep Lessia’s hair away from the side of her neck, his fingers tracing the trail of spots. “You’re Trillaxian.” He said, quietly, as though in awe. “Aren’t you?” Lessia kept her lips in a tight line, but nodded curtly. “Fascinating.” The man’s fingers ran from Lessia’s hairline to the collar of her uniform. “For as long back as I can remember, I have never seen a Trillaxian female…” He turned away back toward Cox. “…Alive.” He amended with a sickening smile.

“What make you think that we are part of this…what did you call it? …Rebellion?” The stranger snorted at the question. “Please.” “We are not traitors, nor spies.” Slaavik stated. “Look at this from my point of view, Captain.” Brooks said to Cox. He counted off his evidence on his fingers. “First, Earth experiences a planet-wide surge of electromagnetic radiation, for the first time in nearly a century and a half, shorting out each and every electronic device on the globe, including our defensive weapons systems.” William recalled his grandmother telling him about the electromagnetic super-storms of the mid-21st century. “Then, there are what our geologists tell us are unprecedented tectonic activity across the earth’s crust.” Cox chanced a glance out the viewer at the planet below them. “Finally, in a blinding flash of light, this ship;” He gestured to the bridge around them, indicating the Equinox; “Your ship, appears from out of nothing in low near-Earth orbit above the planet.” He turned back to Cox and his team. “It will take us a number of weeks for us to get our surface-to-space weapons back online, but your plot to collapse our economy failed, as did your scheme to instill terror in our population.” Cox was very thoroughly lost, thinking that the man who shared his face was ranting incoherently.

“Not that any of it matters now.” The stranger said, to no one in particular. “In any case, I am hereby confiscating this vessel in the name of the Empire.” Cox and his team all jumped as every soldier present simultaneously pounded his chest with a balled fist, with a chorus of shouts of “Terra prime!” which Cox’s education in Latin translated as meaning, “Earth first”. Noting that neither Cox nor any of his crew joined in the chorus, his doppelgänger wheeled on him, stomping up to stand nose to nose with him. “You tell me, “captain”;” He huffed, his breath washing over Cox’s face; “If, as you claim, you are not a member of Rebellion, then why is it you refuse to pledge your fidelity to the empire?” There existed no doubt in Cox’s mind his confusion showed in his expression. His mirror backed away. “We have never even heard of your “Terran Empire”!” Mara protested.

“By the way”; the mirror commander asked; “What is the name of this vessel?” Lessia answered. “The Federation starship USS Equinox.” The imperial officer appeared to perk up at hearing her voice.

“What are you doing here? What is your part in this?” Cox sensed the man’s curiosity to be genuine and so nodded to her to answer. I am Equinox’s Science Officer.” The chuckles from his men were silenced by a glare from their commander. “A Trillaxian scientist.” He shook his head. “Now I have seen everything.” Cox could see Lessia bristle, but she maintained her stoicism. “What is your name, Trillaxian?” “Lieutenant Lessia Odanox.” “You are a Odanox.” He nodded. “Of course you are. You must be.” “Why would you say that?” Lessia was inquisitive. “The Odanox made up the ruling aristocracy of Trillaxia Prime.” “How do you know? What do you mean?” The other’s expression and tone was one filled of supreme arrogance and overbearing avarice. “They were the last to fall.” He grinned sadistically at seeing Lessia’s hands ball into fists, her jaw line set as she gritted her clenched teeth. “And they were the hardest to kill.” The soldiers restraining the Trillaxian wrapped their arms more tightly around her as she launched herself, lunging at their leering captor. “Even their men make poor laborer servants.” He actually winked as he glanced back and forth in between Lessia and Cox. “But their women, however, do make the most excellent wives.”

“Well, as much as I have enjoyed this idle chitchat we do have pressing business with which we must press on.” He nodded to the soldiers training their weapons on Cox and his team, and the black-suited men seized the crew’s wrists behind their backs in vice-like death grips. “William Cox, if that is indeed your real name;” He paused and turned his head to glance back over his shoulder; “Which I doubt;” He shrugged his shoulders in resignation with an overly melodramatized sigh; “I am hereby placing you under arrest for the crime of impersonating an officer of the United Earth Empire.” He gestured for them to follow behind him, and Cox and his team were manhandled roughly into the nearest lift.

 

Will had long since given up trying in vain, and failing, to argue with the stone-faced security officers that had hustled them roughly into a seek-looking jet-black shuttle pod.

He fell silent as he felt Hansen nudge his shoulder and gesture with her cuffed to the shuttle’s window porthole. He leaned over her lap and looked where she pointed. It was the earth all right, with its deep, pure azure blue oceans. It might have been Cox’s imagination but the oceans looked greener than he had remembered, the land more brown and Savannah-like. When they crested the Northern Hemisphere, they expected to see the now all-too-familiar sight of the glistening crystalline white that was the layer of snow and ice, a kilometer to a mile deep, that entirely covered the overwhelmingly vast majority of the land masses in the plant Earth’s Northern hemisphere. But instead they saw only a grayish haze. Then the cloud layer shifted off to the northwest; and Cox heard everyone on the whole ship chorus with him in a joint collective stunned gasp. The first thought that came to his mind at what he saw shot out of his mouth. “Where are the ice caps?” He asked to no one in particular. The ice sheets that for the past century and a half had reached down to Texas, Florida, Spain, and Portugal were nowhere to be seen. There was, from orbit, no ice visible anywhere North of the Tropic of Cancer or anywhere except the South polar continent of Antarctica itself.

“Come to that;” He heard Hansen say; “Where’s Florida? Indonesia? Philippines? Baja?” All had vanished beneath the sea.

“If I may ask a question.” Slaavik said to the imperial commander, standing at the helm of the shuttlecraft. Cox’s doppelgänger nodded, obviously used to Valograns requesting permission to speak. “What is to happen to us now?” “You’ll be held in a subterranean detention facility”; He indicated the readouts showing their destination; “Until such time as you can be brought before the Supreme Court.” He glanced at Cox with an arrogant white-toothed grin. “The emperor himself will personally preside over your trial, during which you will be given an opportunity to present your story;” He sighed as if bored already with the thought; “And your sentence will be decided upon.” “Sentence?” Slaavik spat, her ordinarily rigid composure disintegrating in that moment. “Your evidence is circumstantial at best! Won’t we even have to be proved guilty?” Then the unasked question occurred to her. “What are we even being charged with?” “High treason against the Empire.” The commander barked before she had even finished speaking, showing how unaccustomed he was to being addressed with such hostility. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and his voice was calmer when he added: “And sedition against the Emperor.” He looked at Cox with a sadistic smile that gave every member of Will’s team chills. “My father.” Every one of their shoulders slumped visibly as it sank in just how hopeless their predicament was.

The windows of the shuttle were closed as they entered the lower stratosphere below the clouds, plunging the interior of the vessel into pitch-blackness. Therefore Cox felt, more than anything else, when the shuttle landed. He and his crew were, however, still blindfolded with hoods tied around their necks as they were led out of the craft. Cox tried his best to discern from his other senses where on Earth they might be, but he might as well have been on an alien world for all the familiarity his ears and nose noticed. The hoods and their handcuffs were not removed until they were shoved forcefully in the door and onto the floor of a windowless, dank, and chilled prison cell.

Cox struck his head against something cold and metal, and was still dazed, as the door to their cell was slammed shut. Jennifer knelt by his side and helped him sit up. As his vision cleared, he saw that what he had hit was the headboard of a small cot. Slaavik sat on the cot lost deep in thought, the expression in her eyes distant. Looking around as Jennifer inspected the wound on the back of his head, Will for the first time noticed a figure he had not seen on the Equinox’s bridge or in the shuttle. Kathryn Krueloe was huddled in the corner, curled into a fetal position and rocking back and forth. Cox reached up to tap Slaavik on the knee. The Valogran lifted her head, lifting out of her reverie, and looked at him. Will nodded his head to the side in the direction of the woman huddled n the corner. Slaavik nodded in acknowledgement, sighing as she shrugged her shoulders, momentarily shedding her office as Chief of Security and assuming the responsibility as de facto counselor. “Miss Krueloe.” She called and Will was amazed at the transformation effected in her melodious sing-song voice from her customary cold tone. “Is there something wrong?” “Everything’s wrong.” Krueloe replied. Will nodded. It did seem as though they had stepped into some alien world. “I can’t remember anything.” Krueloe continued. Cox sat up, causing his head to pound. “What?” “All my memories are gone.” “What aren’t you remembering?” Lessia asked, calmly. “I tried remembering my childhood, growing up”; She choked up, tears forming in her eyes; “My mother.” “You have no memories of any of them?” Cox asked. “That’s just it;” Krueloe unfurled her legs, rising to her knees before sitting back against the wall; “I have memories of a family, a house, and a childhood.” She looked at their thoroughly confused expressions. “But they’re not mine.” “Explain.” Slaavik again played counselor. “I can put a name to each face, each place;” The tears streamed down her cheeks; “But I don’t recognize them, not one.” She shook her head, closing her eyes and burying her face in her hands. “It’s almost as if…” “…Like you’re remembering somebody else’s life.” Lessia finished for her before she could, nodding understandingly. Cox looked around. “Is anyone else dealing with what she’s describing?” Lessia paused but shook her head. Slaavik merely averted her gaze and said nothing.

 

Somewhere miles away in the city above them, a teenage girl awoke in a dark room. For a moment she was not certain if she had woken up at all, unsure which was more real: the dream she had been having or the world she woke into. She felt along the wall above her head, fumbling across the bedside table until she found the light switch. The lamp faded on slowly and she blinked s her eyes adjusted, looking around the room. Her first thought was that whoever lived here must be extraordinarily well off. She sat up in the bed and was surprised, as she pulled the sheets up against her chest, to feel her hands instead hit a pair of breasts. She froze, her first reflex being to avoid disturbing whomever their owner might be, and her brain did not register that they belonged to her until she chanced a glance down at her body. Her discovery that she had breasts was on the first revelation of the fact that she was completely  and entirely nude in the bed. With wide eyes she turned her head to see clothes; her clothes she knew intuitively; draped over a chair at the bedside and realized all at once that the person who lived in the well-appointed room in which she now found herself was in fact her.

She jumped as she suddenly had the strange but powerful sense that she was not alone and a minute later there was a knock on the door of her bedroom. She barely heard  it though, as her head was unexpectedly flooded with a disorganized chaotic jabbering of voices. ‘No’; she realized; ‘It was only one voice. She knew she should respond to the knock. “Who  is it?” She called, abruptly closing her mouth tightly upon hearing what sounded like someone else’s voice come out of it. She knew it was her voice, melodious and feminine, but she could not remember ever having heard it before. “Who do you want it to be?” Replied a male voice she was surprised to identify as the one still reverberating in her head. After a moment’s pause: “It’s Jed.” The same corner of her mind that had identified the clothes by her bedside as being hers put a name to the voice: Josiah Fossett. She must have remained silent too long because  he felt the need to elaborate. “Your partner.” ‘Her partner?’ She thought, wondering what business she might be in that would earn her such accommodations and involve her having a partner. “Are you still in bed, Cat?” Something clicked, her name coming back to her: Cassandra. The back corner of her brain had put the name Cassandra Harper to her voice when she had just spoken. So then why did she remember that her last name was Hansen? She was further confused by the fact that she could distinctly, if not clearly, hear Josiah’s voice in her mind in spite of the fact that he hadn’t spoken a word in may long minutes. “I got a call.” His voice had a detectable French accent. “We’ve got a job. Get dressed and be ready to go to work.”

Cassandra took another look at the clothes hung beside her bed. They consisted of a jet-black jumpsuit which as she slipped into it without donning any undergarments, as the stack included none, she was surprised to fall was fitted to her body size and shape. She thought for a moment that perhaps her profession might be as some sort of spy or top-secret classified agent, but the suit’s low-cut neckline made her somehow immediately doubt the plausibility of this conclusion, as did the six-inch stiletto heels of the above-the-knee thigh boots.

A young man with the face her mind had matched to the voice stood waiting for her when she opened the door. He smiled as he inspected the hastily thrown-on ensemble. “I sometimes forget that you always preferred to sleep eau natural.” He commented, the tone of his voice leaving no doubt in Cassandra’s mind that he was speaking from firsthand knowledge, and the thought that she had slept with him made Cassandra look at the man in a new and different way.  He was tall but slender with short curly reddish-brown hair and a baby-like face naturally denuded of any trace of a beard or mustache in spite of his age, which she guessed to be mid to late-twenties. This last thought prompted her to look down at her own body and she was not unaware of the strangeness of trying to figure out from her physical features how old she might be. The change in her voice combined with the size of her breasts drew her to arrive at the number of eighteen years old and given that she now knew she was no longer a virgin, having evidently been intimate at least once with the man standing in front of her, she silently prayed that she was right. When Cassandra looked up again Jed was already walking away from her down the hall and she hurried, as much as was possible in her high heels, to catch up to him.

“An Imperial security transport shuttle just landed”; He was saying, evidently to her. He turned his head partway around to check she was with him; “Carrying at least half a dozen captured members of the Rebellion;” She was starting to think this was sounding like something out of a twentieth century “science fiction” myth; “Guarded by several dozen Imperial officers.” He glanced down at her cleavage, dispelling any illusion she had entertained about being a covert operative. Instead her earlier feelings approaching excitement and anticipation to see what this new life held for her were replaced by a sickening sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew just what it was she did to earn that lavish suite. “I even heard a rumor;” Jed said; “That this particular detachment was under the personal command of Emperor’s son himself.” Her sick feeling deepened at hearing how excited her companion was growing at the prospect, knowing with stomach-churning certainty that it was not he that would be expected to…interact—with officers. Josiah, she could tell from the patronizing condescension in his tone of voice when he spoke to her, saw himself as the mastermind behind their no doubt marginally legal at best undertakings. She bristled to herself as she walked behind him at the thought that he saw her as little more than a finely honed instrument for his own gratification. ‘It was also clear’; She thought as they emerged into blinding late morning sunlight; ‘from how he made no attempt to disguise his avarice that he was accustomed to her following along with his schemes.’

As her eyes adjusted to the daylight and she looked around them at a city she immediately recognized as Paris, France, she wondered how profoundly troubled the life that the owner of the body in which she now found herself had led might have been to wound her up in such an exploitative business.

 

“I believe I may have a hypothesis.” Slaavik announced. As they were the first words any of them could remember having heard her speak in hours, since they had first been thrown into the cell, everyone in the room immediately turned their full and undivided attention to the Valogran woman. “It is my belief that we;” She gestured indicating her companions; “Have been somehow thrown into a parallel universe from our own.” On any other day and coming from anyone else’s lips Cox, being the scientist that he was, would have dismissed the concept as delusional imaginings. But given what all of them had experienced in the past couple of hours and his knowledge of the Valogran as someone not prone to hyperbole, Cox was intrigued as he could see the rest of his crew were as well. “We have encountered one doppelgänger of a member of our crew already.” She looked down at him. “That being yours captain. However, from his lack of your facial features;” Cox knew she was referring to his forehead and brow ridges, an inheritance from his mother’s side of his family; “I can conclude that this William has no Valogran ancestry.” “Hence why his officers address him as Commander Brooks.” Krueloe piped up, having recovered from her emotional breakdown. “Precisely.” Slaavik nodded to her. Then to her captain again: “Your Valogran mother adopted your last name when she married your father, which is why he doesn’t share it. He instead inherited one of the two last names that your father was born with prior to meeting your mother.” Cox nodded, knowing his illustrious family’s history well but understanding that her explanation was more for the benefit of his crew than his own. “I harbor no doubts that we will very soon be encountering duplicates of other people we knew. However;” She paused to look around at the group; “I have been able to ascertain that in this world the Federation we knew has either been replaced with this Empire or else never existed to begin with.” All present hung their heads, struck with the great loss, but Slaavik locked eyes with Lessia. “It is also clear to me;” She said meaningfully; “That while the people on this Earth do appear to be familiar with the other species of the Federation;” Cox understood now why she was looking at Lessia, the only other extraterrestrial in the room, as she said this; “This Empire is ruled over by humans who perceive our kind as both inherently inferior and subservient.” As she anticipated she saw the Trillaxian’s spots darken as she bristled angrily and could feel the outrage radiating from Cox as well.

No sooner had she finished speaking than the doors of the cell burst open and the same soldiers that had thrown them in dragged them out, slapping handcuffs back on. This time, however, Cox was no longer confused and so was able to make a concerted effort to prevent the group from becoming separated. His doppelgänger appeared to recognize why Cox was struggling to stay as close as he could to the other members of his crew. “While I am forced to tell you that I admire your attachment to your people, “Captain”; Brooks said. “The Trillaxian is not even one of your own kind.” He indicated Lessia. “And why the human women?” Cox knew he was referring to Krueloe and Hansen. “They’re my responsibility.” Cox answered curtly. “Let me guess.” Brooks seemed to be enjoying this like it was some kind of game. “The Rebellion’s scheme to infiltrate the empire by impersonating Imperial officers;” He eyed Cox’s Federation uniform suspiciously; “Was your idea and these few are the only ones out of your fellow rebels that were devoted enough to you;” He had seen Lessia and Slaavik struggling to stay near their captain; “That you could get them to go along with it.” He looked for any hint of recognition on Cox’s face and found none. “Am I close to the truth?” Cox stayed silent and Brooks turned away from him with a huff. “It doesn’t matter. You can save your storytelling for your tribunal appearance if you wish.” They had emerged from the underground complex and Cox could not help but note the lack of any attempt on Brooks’ men’s part to blindfold them as they had been upon their initial approach as they stepped out onto a bustling city street. Cox was shocked to recognize that they stood in downtown Paris, what had been in the reality they had left hours earlier the headquarters city of the Federation.

Brooks and his men wasted no time in piling Cox and his team into ground transports and they were soon leaving the city limits of Paris. Their destination, Cox soon surmised, was the villa of Chateau Villette, known to him only because it had once belonged to his great, great-grandmother, Roseline Saint Chlaire, during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. As a result, he was significantly more nonplussed as they were pulled from the cabs than the other members of his team, who gaped wide-eyed at the mansion, built to mirror the former French royal palace at Versailles. Cox was, however, just as surprised as any of his crew, as they were led inside, to see that the interior of the structure had been completely hollowed out and replaced by one enormous hall, its ceiling rising out of sight high above, the figures that sat behind desks at its far end barely discernible at such a distance.

Cox saw Brooks straighten his uniform, sweeping imaginary dust off his sleeves and adjusting his cuffs as he readied to march them down the hall. He was interrupted by another group of soldiers that came bursting through the opposite door. “Commander!” Their leader hailed Brooks with the salute Cox had seen earlier. Brooks appeared annoyed by the disruption of his triumph. “What is it, Lieutenant?” “Sir, we found these lurking around Versailles.” Cox saw two tall figures appear in the shadows behind the officer. “I wouldn’t bother you with it except they give the same cover story as your detainees.” Brooks strained to distinguish the shadowy forms. “Interesting. Who might they be?” The lieutenant dutifully tugged on the chain cuffing the two figures together. “Valograns sir. A pair of them.” The figures emerged from the shadows and Cox actually laughed out loud, startling his captor, as he saw Juno and her daughter Sarah standing in the hall. He ran forward without a second thought and the two women embraced him. His godmother kissed his forehead ridges and, his hands bound behind his back, he buried his chin onto the shoulder of her daughter. “I have never been happier to see anyone else in my life!” He exclaimed. “We’re pleased to see that you haven’t been harmed, Will.” Sarah comforted him. Cox was abruptly aware of the intimacy of his face burrowed into the side of the neck of the woman he had been raised to think of as a sister and so pulled back. Brooks shook the lieutenant’s hand. “Well done. It is obvious they’re involved together. Thank you. I’ll take them from here.” The man saluted again and was gone. Cox stayed close to his godmother as Juno and Sarah, too, permitted Brooks’ soldiers to bind their hands and they marched as a group down the hall. It made him feel inexplicably better even in this foreign and alien place to be surrounded by friends he trusted.

As they approached he could see now that the bench at the head of the hall consisted of nine desks overseen by an elevated pedestal rising behind them. Seated at the desks were serious-faced no-nonsense men ranging in age from twice again his own age to not much older than he. Slaavik, reflexively taking up her captain’s rear, collided with him as Cox abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and froze in spite of the soldier tugging on his chains. He had just seen the face of the man seated on the pedestal, an in recognizing him he knew at once that Slaavik’s words rung true. “Dad.” He muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper, staring into the intimately familiar eyes of Jarek Brooks-Janney II. A moment later Brooks stepped in front of him, shooting him a reprimanding look before dropping to one knee with a clenched fist to his chest. “Welcome, father.” Cox recalled what his doppelgänger had told him about being the son of the Emperor. ‘Jarek was the Emperor?’ He thought in disbelief, feeling a whole different sense of dread fill him. “Greetings my son.” The Emperor replied formally, nodding. “I understand you have something special for us this afternoon.” Brooks beamed proudly. “Indeed I have, your highness.” He turned to Cox. “This man, obviously made over in an attempt to imitate me, tells us that he is a captain in the rebellion.” There was a chattering of derisive laughter. “A Valogran captain?” Sneered one of the nine men overseeing the proceedings, banging a gavel. “Indeed”. “We have several of his compatriots.” Brooks moved back in the line. “Three Valogran females.” Cox did his best to hide his anger at the look of disgust that crossed the Emperor’s face. In the world hew had come from his own father, Jarek Brooks-Janney II, had fallen in love with and married a Valogran woman, his mother. “This one;” Brooks was saying, indicating Slaavik; “Claims to be her captain’s security officer.” There was rumble of laughter from the spectators. “And these two;” He moved on to Juno and Sarah; “Obviously a mother-daughter pair, appear to have an intimate relationship with him.” Brooks pointed at Cox and as he anticipated a collective gasp went up for his audience. “Who’s the fifth?” The emperor asked. His son beamed with pride and straightened, marching over to push Lessia to stand beside Cox at the front of the hall. “A rarity, and a first before this august body.” He announced. He reached u to sweep Lessia’s hair aside. “A Trillaxian female.” Ther nine judges leaned forward as Lessia’s spots were unveiled and the emperor was forced to pound his own gavel as, even with her wrists bound, Lessia jerked her head away from Brooks’ hand.

“Your highness, honorable justices of the court;” Brooks strode toward the bench; “It is my assertion, as a commander of the empire, that the electromagnetic pulse that shut down Earth’s electronic devices was caused somehow by their vessel.” “What vessel?” The Emperor asked. Brooks pushed a button on the device in his hand, a three-dimensional holographic projection springing from the desk in front of the Emperor, and a moment later a larger version of the same image materialized in the center of the hall. The Emperor reached out and rotated the projection of the Equinox with his fingers. “Have you ever seen this style of starship before?” Brooks shook his head. “It is not of any Imperial design.” The Justices appeared skeptical. “Are you trying to suggest to us that the Rebellion has somehow acquired the technological capability to begin manufacturing its own vessels?” “I believe we would be better off hearing the Rebel “captain” explain himself.” Brooks whirled on Cox, holding up the handheld device, projecting the image directly in front of his doppelgänger’s face. “What is this?” He demanded. “The United Federated Star Systems Timeship USS Equinox” Cox answered calmly, meeting his duplicate’s eyes with his own unwaveringly. He found he could channel all of his fury, hatred and rage into an icy, stony façade that ironically effectively disguised his outrage and frustration. “Timeship?” Brooks laughed and was joined by his father behind him. “What might that mean, precisely?” Cox said nothing, but instead turned to Lessia beside him and nodded. “The Equinox is built with a quantum temporal core in addition to its subspace slipstream drive.” Lessia explained, not making eye contact with their captor but instead keeping her gaze on her captain. “The Rebel “Science officer” speaks!” Brooks exclaimed, smacking his hand down on the justices’ desk for effect. “Now we’ve all not only seen a Trillaxian female but heard one as well. Even with his bound wrists Cox was able to reach out with his fingertips to lay a hand on Lessia’s wrist as he saw the Trillaxian tense with barely suppressed anger at his doppelgänger’s patronizing proclamation. Jarek, however, did not share his son’s revelry. He was eyeing Juno scrupulously, as if trying to maneuver the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle into place with his mind. “Do you mean to ell this court;” He intoned, forming his words slowly as Juno returned his study unflinchingly, appearing as at ease as though she were strolling along the banks of the Seine; “That your vessel is capable of time travel?” “In theory;” Lessia hedged; “Hypothetically, yes.” She studied the Emperor and his son. “That is to say, it should have been.” “What do you mean?” The emperor appeared genuinely intrigued by the earnestness his prisoners exhibited in their story, much to the ill-concealed disbelief of his son. “You’ve activated this “quantum core”?” “That is how we came to appear in orbit above your Earth, your majesty.” It was Sarah and Cox looked back in time to see the young woman dip in a courtly curtsy. The Emperor was too fascinated by the woman’s voice, but one of the justices caught on to the subtlety in her words. “What do you mean by “our” Earth? There is only one Planet Earth in this whole galaxy! Explain yourself.” Sarah faltered, unsure whether the truth would help or hurt the case for their innocence, but was rescued from having to come up with a story by Juno, who stepped forward to stand in front of her daughter. “We come from a different world.” “Of course they do!” Brooks erupted, outraged at his father’s entertaining of these criminals. “They’re Valograns!” “A different Earth.” Juno finished, her eyes flashing at the Imperial commander, who appeared to physically whither underneath her heated gaze. “But there exists only one planet Earth.” The justice repeated. “We’ve looked—” “In this universe.” Juno interrupted and the justice closed his mouth, sitting back. “What a preposterous non-sequitur!” Brooks had recovered his bravado but nonetheless made certain to face away from the woman and her daughter. “The universe is everything that exists!” He asserted confidently. “There can be nothing else besides.”

Juno turned to her daughter, who stepped forward. “As you are no doubt aware;” She began humbly, displaying deference to the emperor if not to his son; “A theory of quantum physics popularized in the late twentieth and early 21st centuries held that decisions made and actions taken at various different places and times cause new realities to spring into existence in which all but certain things were the same but where events occurred in a distinctly different way.” The Emperor and his justices nodded, in spite of Brooks who appeared hopeless lost. “It is our belief that our activation of the Equinox’s temporal drive resulted the formation of and alternate reality from our own.” She waved her hand, indicating the Chateau. “This one, in which we now find ourselves.” “You cannot be taking these criminals seriously!” Brooks implored his father, gesturing angrily at Juno. “Now we hear them claiming to be gods. How they talk about creating universes!” Jarek nodded. “I agree it seems implausible on its face.” He turned back to Sarah. “Two objects cannot occupy the same point in space at the same point in time. If what you say was true, your interaction with our universe would result in the mutual annihilation of both of our realities.” The spectators gasped and rumbled at the thought. Sarah thought for a long moment, looking back and forth between Cox and Brooks before replying, choosing her next words with extreme care. “As a theoretical astrophysicist myself;” She ignored Brooks’ derisive scoff; “I can think of only one probability, which is this.” She felt everyone in the room, including her own crew, leaning in to hear her quiet voice. “That, with the exception of those few of us who were present around the core at the moment of its activation;” She indicated her companions; “Your universe has, for all practical intents and purposes, replaced our own.” Even Slaavik appeared taken aback by the implications of this. “In other words your reality has effectively overwritten ours, like a sheet of metal welded onto the top of a motor.” Realizing belatedly that she had lost the Emperor with the analogy, she elaborated. “The outline of the shape of the reality we knew, in this case the planet Earth, its continents, countries and cities, remains intact but the appearance and…texture—of your world, namely the people, institution and history, is dramatically different.”

“This is ludicrous!” Brooks had finally had enough of all this high-minded talk of science he didn’t understand. “You know better than anyone in this hall, your highness;” He addressed his father; “That the Empire has a history that can trace its origins back for hundreds of years, dozens of generations, to the mid-twentieth century.” He could not keep his eyes from Juno as he spoke but now shifted his derision to her daughter. “Our universe was most definitely not created only days ago;” He slid alongside Lessia, his voice a hiss in her ear; “And our illustrious Empire is certainly not the incidental outcome from any technological malfunction.” The Emperor sighed, nodding. “I apologize, doctor…I’m sorry but I never did get your name. “Wells. Sarah Wells. And I prefer to be addressed as “professor” if you don’t mind.” Sarah answered back, growing bolder before adding with another curtsy: “Your highness.” “Very well, Professor Wells;” Jarek continued; “It is obvious that you, all of you, believe that what you are telling us is true.” The team’s hopes were dashed by his next words. “But I am afraid that I have no other alternative but to concur with Commander Brooks.” Cox saw Brooks start to strut arrogantly around the group in a tight circle, like a hyena herding frightened gazelle to pick off the weakest. “The Earth Empire that you are in both can and does, indeed, trace its beginnings to the middle of the twentieth century. Before any standing in this in this room were even born.” He hesitated on this last phrase, his gaze once more fixating on Juno and her daughter.

“By our laws;” One of the justices piped up; “It doesn’t make a difference why one refuses to pledge their allegiance to the Empire. Anyone shown top be negligent in their loyalty is to be considered guilty of the crime of high sedition against the Emperor himself.” He glared at Cox, who was looking around at his companions, not believing his ears. “Not acknowledging the legitimacy of the Empire’s entire existences definitely qualifies as such negligence and more beyond I would say. Wouldn’t you, your Excellency?” The Emperor nodded as he pounded his gavel. “Captain William Cox, Doctor Sarah Wells, Lieutenant Lessia Odanox, Commander Slaavik and company;” He had never asked for any of the others’ names; “You are hereby found guilty as charged by this grand jury of the High Supreme Court of the Unified Empire of Earth;” Cox felt his façade cracking, knowing that the jury were merely spectators and had played no part in their conviction; “On all charges of the crimes of treason and sedition against the Empire and against his Excellency the Emperor Jarek Brooks the Second;” Cox huffed at the Emperor referring to himself in the third person by his own title; “On this date, the first of April of the year two thousand one hundred and ninety-five of the common era.” This caused both Lessia and Sarah to perk up to attention. The year they had left had been 2198. The Emperor stood and the justices dutifully followed suit. “As your sentence you are to be escorted, along with your vessel, by Commander William Brooks;” Cox tried to ignore his doppelgänger’s sneer in his direction; “On board the warship Endeavor, flagship of the Imperial Starfleet, to the Imperial penal colony on the moon Jadzri of the planet Trillaxia Prime.” Cox saw Lessia stiffen at the mention of her species’ home world. “Commander Brooks will then return to Earth with your vessel so that its technology can be replicated by the Empire for our purposes, leaving you stranded on the prison moon top labor excavating and manufacturing the materials needed by the Imperial military for as long as the last of you might live.” Again his gaze was drawn by Juno’s placid expression, which had turned ice-cold, sending visible shivers down the spine of the most powerful human in the galaxy as though it were he stranded on a desolate wasteland in the depths of space. The Emperor banged his gavel again. “This grand jury of the Supreme Court hereby stands adjourned.” The spectators filed out and he waved to his son. “The detainees are dismissed under custody.”

Cox and his team were pile back into the transport, which long minutes later deposited them at what he immediately recognized as, in his universe, the roundabout at the center of which stood the world-famous Arc de Triumph. Without thinking he turned around and looked North to the site where his great-grandmother had erected the towering monument memorializing the more than one billion victims of the global ecological cataclysm that had, nearly a century before he was born, been the impetus behind her founding of the Federation. Instead in its place stood what he identified as one of the destroyed structures out of the ruins of which the memorial had been constructed, the Eiffel Tower. With this reminder that they no longer lived in the world he knew Cox hung his head and rejoined his crew as they were marched south along the course of the river Seine away from the Tower. It was Juno and her daughter who spotted their destination first. The very same shuttle that had brought them down from their ship sat parked in between the two iconic glass pyramids that filled the courtyard of the former royal palace turned world-renowned art museum known to local Parisians as the Louvre. Slaavik concluded that the cell in which they had been held prior to their trial lay somewhere beneath their feet in one of the underground sublevels of the former museum.

 

“It’s your fault that we missed out on our chance to at Chateau Villette.” Jed derided her good-naturedly as they waited in the shadow of one of the Louvre’s glass pyramids. “You’re the one who led us to Versailles instead.” Cassandra shot back, pricking him the consequences of his determination to take the role as their leader.

“So now you’re responsible for bagging their leader.” Fosset pretended not to acknowledge her provocation. “The Emperor’s son?” Cassandra turned to stare at him. Jed nodded toward the shuttle.

Cassandra watched in silence for a long minute. She could see from this distance and angle the faces of any of the detainees being loaded onto the transport. Nor could she see the face of Imperial commander overseeing the prisoner transfer.

“He’s an officer like any other;” Her reminded her, holding up the bag he carried to smuggle the loot stolen from their victims. His meaning was obvious: to remind her of the luxurious suite she had left behind earlier that morning. He glanced down at her breasts pressed against the glass of the pyramid; “And a man.” Cassandra amazed herself at how much and how quickly she had grown accustomed to what she had discovered she did for a living. When all of the prisoners were piled into the shuttle and all of the imperial soldiers had filed in behind them, Jed indicated for her to make her move. Disgusted by what she was about to do, as she stood Cassandra took a deep breath and relaxed her every muscle, letting her eyes fall closed and her mind go blank.

When she reopened her eyes, she was startled to find that she was already striding out across the courtyard. She looked down at her legs, moving now as though by a will of their own, and then back up at the shuttle looming in front of her. Before she knew it, she was stalking up behind the imperial commander. She startled herself again by reaching out to lay the palms of her hands on his back. “What a lonely life you must lead, Commander.” She heard her voice say, felling her lips and tongue moving, like her legs, of their own volition. “Going home every day to that palatial fortress on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington.” She felt herself run her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Living every day of your life under constant surveillance by your father, the media in every language filming and broadcasting your every move.” She felt her breasts press themselves into his back. “Just to try to live your life with so little privacy, but so heartbreaking alone, a daily struggle.”

She heard him laugh. “I know that voice.” He said.

She paused, something in his voice striking a chord somewhere deep inside. There was something familiar. She could not put her finger on it until he turned around within her embrace to face her and she gasped, jerking her head back and trying to pull away. “Will?” She blurted before thinking. She caught herself: “I mean, Captain?” She bowed her head, casting her eyes downward.
“Cassandra Harper.” Brooks said, looking her up and down. “In the flesh.” His eyes fixed on her cleavage as he reached up to detach her arms from around his neck. He did not, however, release her from his grasp, his hands like vices around her wrists. “I have to tell you that I expected more from the Empire’s most want con artist.” His words barely registered as she stared in disbelief at the face she had seen early that morning on the bridge of the Equinox. “Although;” His tone smoldered as he twisted her arms behind her back; “The reports of your beauty are greatly understated.” Casey was so mystified by being placed under arrest by the man she knew as a captain of the Federation that she could not even muster revulsion at his lechery.

Then, turning her head to one side, she spotted Jed climbing into the back cargo hold of the shuttle. This reminded her of the world in which she found herself, and she took control of her own body, trying to affect the same tone she had heard coming from her mouth earlier. “Are you going to take me to your father?”

Brooks thought about it for a moment. “He ordered me to bring the rebel vessel back here after I drop the traitors off at their penal moon.” He told her, marching her toward the shuttle. “How much more pleased he will be when I present him with both this “Equinox” of theirs and the most dangerous fugitive in the Empire.”

Casey’s ears perked up at the mention of Cox’s ship. She had concluded that the man shoving her into the cockpit of the shuttle with him was not the William Cox that she knew. Her first thought had been that the captain had undergone some sort of brainwashing, but the foreignness with which he referenced the Equinox convinced her once and for all that this was someone completely different altogether.

 

24 Is The New Forty

•May 26, 2013 • Leave a Comment

The complete, total, and utter lack of anything even remotely resembling a social life does carry with it the prerequisite that one get creative in constantly inventing new and interesting ways of keeping oneself entertained. Put another way, I have to entertain myself since I don’t have any friends.
It’s not something any sane, rational person in their right mind should ever wish for. I, for one, would not wish it on my worst enemy.
When I am within several yards of any member of the opposite gender my own age whom I am even remotely attracted to in any way, shape or form, i experience physiological symptoms, judging from having taken two college psychology classes, strikingly similar to those of a panic attack.
While I am aware that I am living in the past, and in doing so engaging in precisely the sort of behavior that I tell everyone is a waste of time and energy (letting things I can’t change get to me), each and every time I even so much as see an attractive girl my age, every nightmare scenario imaginable, up to and including jail time, runs through my mind in a split instant. This is why forcing myself to strike up a conversation with them is like running into walls, because I find it impossible to persuade myself that doing so will not end in catastrophe for me with all of these terrors constantly flooding my head.
I used to think that guys in songs, movies, and tv shows were hyperbolizing when they would talk about seeing a girl so beautiful that it made them crazy. However, ever since meeting my cousin, I am left with no choice but to admit that i don’t believe that anymore.
What makes me crazy is not only how extraordinarily attractive she is, but also how effortless our conversations were. I find it nothing if not confounding that I have never encountered anyone my age, and of the opposite gender, whom I have connected with in such a way before or since.

I am conflicted whenever anyone asks me whether or not I have any regrets. This is because, first and foremost, I regard regretting anything as being a waste of time, as you should not let things you can’t do anything to change bother you. However, my second dilemma with regretting things is that having regrets implies that you wish you had not done what you did. This is a problem for me because the only things one should regret are the things that one knew were wrong but did anyway, and everything that I have ever done is what I believed was the right thing to do at the time. I have never done anything knowing it was the wrong thing to do. I have always thought that everything I did was right. The reason why I have made mistakes is that the rest of the world disagreed, and decided that I was wrong in believing that. So my problem with answering the question: “do you have any regrets?” is that I do not so much regret my actions as I do everyone else’s REaction.
Disgusted? That was Ninth grade
unwanted? That was sophomore year
“Not in the group”? That was junior year
Left out? That was senior year
For me, that was called “high school”. Actually, those would make pretty good titles for those chapters when I write my autobiography.
I went to the Stevens Point Area Senior High (SPASH), largest 10-12 high school in the state of Wisconsin. I didn’t belong to any of the groups at the school (nerds, geeks, jocks, cheerleaders, wrestlers, etc.), so I ended up sitting by myself at lunch, and I used the time to write (the other kids [nerds] who sat alone in the cafeteria spent their lunch hours playing online video games on their computers).
For some reason, all kinds of people would see this as an invitation to sit down and start talking to me. I knew how to keep my mouth shut, so everyone apparently thought that I was a very good listener. The weird part about it was that I seemed to be a magnet for people with relationship problems, boys and girls. I can’t even count the number of times that one day a boy would tell me all about the problems he was having with his girlfriend, and then the very next day, when a girl was telling me about her boyfriend, I would realize that this was the girl he had been talking about. As a result, in spite of the fact that I have never once kissed a girl in my life, I gained an intimate familiarity with romantic relationships.
On the one hand, this makes me very good at writing love scenes in my novels, in spite of the fact that, when I began my novel, I did not even believe that any such a thing as love existed at all.
However, the downside is that the way I learned all about girls was in a romantic context, so the only way I know how to think about them is in that way. The unfortunate result of this is that, even though I myself haven’t the faintest idea about how to flirt with a girl, I have had many girls be turned off by me, thinking that I was coming on to them.
This has been especially problematic since I turned 18, in my dealings with girls younger than that.
Again, the one notable exception was when i met the girl who turned out to be my cousin at the wedding in January.

It’s like my brother and me
He’s never gone a single day without at least one girlfriend since the fourth grade. I’ve never kissed a girl in my life.
The worst trouble Devin ever got into at school was that we was suspended for a couple of days for wearing a “kiss me, i’m irish” button on his crotch for valentine’s day. Our parents leapt to his defense, and charged into the principal’s office to get the rules changed.
My sophomore year of high school, I was seduced in the hallway after school by two girls in my grade, who then went to the dean of students to report me for sexual harassment. My parents, old friends of the dean, and being threatened with being sued, seeing as how the girls were two years younger than me, for statutory rape by the girls parents, handed me a combination restraining order-nondisclosure agreement, swearing under penalty of law that i would not contact either of the girls, or any of their siblings who went to the school, in any way, shape, or form for the rest of my time at the school, which was more than three years at the time.
The thing is that for nearly six years after my graduation from high school, I was perfectly happy with not having any friends, to the point where my pathological avoidance of interaction with other people became a part of how I would define myself.
Only after I met a girl at my older cousin’s wedding in January who I really hit it off with, but who unfortunately for me turned out not only to be the stepdaughter of my other cousin (AKA my cousin once removed, or my second cousin, or whatever the term for that is) but also a full ten years younger than me in spite of her looks, have I actually begun to feel something that I can never remember having felt before…lonely. This past semester since then has been a period of discovery for me, and what I have discovered is so depressing that I have little doubt any sane rational person in their right mind discovering the same would waste very little time in taking their own life. My discovery is that, rather than just being what I have thought of it as since my sophomore year of high school, a policy: that any interaction with another person my age, especially a girl, must be initiated by THEM, and not by me, is instead, as a matter of actual facts, my REALITY. That my thinking of being alone as a choice has been similar to that of a drug addict: that they can stop anytime they want to. While I have been perfectly comfortable for years being alone, somewhere in the back of my mind I had always held onto the notion that I could make friends if I wanted to, and that I merely choose not to. This past semester I have discovered that this is not true. My discovery is that not only do I lack utterly the knowledge and the competence in social situations to make friends, but that I could devote all of my time, energy, blood, sweat, and tears into trying to force myself to go up to someone, especially a girl, and introduce myself, but doing so is like running in place on a treadmill while pushing with all your strength against a solid brick wall.
The one problem that I have with what I have read about aspbergers is that there is a perception that, because people with aspbergers have trouble reading body language, they have difficulties with following instructions. This is not true. While I prefer instructions to be written down, as I find oral instructions difficult to remember accurately in detail, I have shown myself to be very good at following instructions when they are given to me.
What people like me with aspbergers have a difficult time with are the unwritten, un-codified, unspoken rules of action: what to do and what not to do. This was my problem in high school, as there were unwritten and unspoken rules of what one should not do that I didn’t know, as they were never explained to me (there was no orientation) and I never asked about them (for the same reason no one in the twelfth century asked what America was like: one does not ask about things that one does not know exist).
Unfortunately, I was also precluded from the process of trial and error, as it is dependent upon, once one errs, one being capable of giving it another try, and the very first mistake that I made my sophomore year of high school resulted in my being legally forbidden from trying again for the remainder of my time in high school.
I compare it to kissing. The only way to learn how to do it is to practice. But just as you cannot simply walk up to someone and tell them “you’re going to be my friend”, practicing kissing girls requires their consent, which they are unlikely to give more than once when they discover how un-proficient you are at it.
People with aspbergers are renowned for being very “concrete” (what some refer to as being “black-and-white”), and i never learned the procedures for how to make friends, which everyone else my age that I know did.
The character of Joshua Lyman, played by actor Bradley Whitford from Season 3 of the West Wing, written by Aaron Sorkin, says it best. Josh’s monologue near the end expresses my problems with girls better than i ever could: 


I never learned how to make friends with other people in high school because the people in high school that I wanted to be friends with, and more importantly that I wanted to be friends with me, I was prohibited by law from interacting with in any way shape or form for the four years that I was in high school, and by the time that I was again able to make friends, I was out of high school and into college.
In college, the process of trial and error is not socially acceptable, as it is expected that, as most people do, you will have learned how to make friends in high school.
The problem is that the conclusion that I invariably reach after each and every interaction that I do have with other people my age is that, due to my complete, total, and utter incompetence, I am not someone who even I would ever choose to become friends with. Therefore I hold out very little hope of any rational person making the choice to make friends with someone like me who doesn’t have even the slightest clue what in the wide world they are doing.
Unfortunately, as I have said, now that I am at last interested in making friends, it is already years too late for me to learn how.

The Imperfection in the Storm Prologue: Before the Coming Storm

•May 1, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Northwestern University

College of Environmental Sciences

1820 Chicago Avenue

Evanston, Illinois 602101

Tuesday, May 1, 2063

5:25 PM

Doctor Jeremy Brooks, Professor of Environmental Sciences at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, gathered together his papers into a file folder, and put the folder in a binder. He folded up his portable computer, and tucked the computer and binder under his arm. He turned out the lights, taking one last final look at the darkened lecture hall, and walked out the door. He strode down the hallway, slipping on his sports jacket on the way. He pushed through the metal double doors, and went outside, as the doors clanged and thumped closed behind him, another joined the sound.

It sounded chaotic, and it was coming from above. Brooks stopped and looked up, and stared in astounded astonishment.

Thousands… Tens of thousands of birds of all descriptions were flocking overhead. Ducks, geese and swans, herons and cranes, crows and ravens, owls, hawks and eagles; All calling and crying madly, loudly, quacking, squawking, chirping, honking, hooting, and whistling. All over the campus, people looked up, astounded. The birds were flying in a vast arc, stretching away to the North and South, all flying as fast as they could, flying southwest. Then the winged airborne herd had passed, and their nose gradually faded.

It was then that Brooks first noticed how cold it had suddenly become, the mid-May air chilly, crisp, and intense.

Even in his sports jacket, Brooks shivered.

There was an ominous rumble away to the North.

Brooks turned and hurried back into the College of Environmental Sciences building. He was up on the top floor balcony terrace in five minutes. He looked out to the Northeast toward Lake Michigan.

Then he looked up, above the water, into the sky, and froze, staring.

He had never in all his life seen anything like this, this immense.

It was like something out of one of those computer simulations come to life.

Suddenly the shocking, and slightly sickening, cognition hit him that the very thing he had secretly been suspecting for months, but yet feared to even propose, may actually be happening.

One thing was immediately and abundantly clear: this was not any creation of man. One thing that was for certain on Brooks’ mind; which was still reeling, trying to categorize, classify, or indeed to comprehend what he was staring at across the water; was that this was a force of nature unlike any other ever witnessed.

This was no computer-generated prediction. This was real, and it would be coming, soon…

‘It was immense’, Brooks thought.

The clouds rising up, he guessed, over sixty thousand feet before flattening out to form an anvil shape tens of miles across. But curiously enough, although it bore a superficial exterior resemblance from a distance to a very large thunderstorm, the motion of the clouds, Brooks could see, seemed more like that of a tropical hurricane.

‘A hurricane in the Great Lakes?’ Brooks thought.

It had the largest cloud-head Brooks had ever seen, and what may have been the largest ever recorded inland or in the Atlantic.

Still reeling from the shocking realization that what he had suspected and feared for months; ever since that first day in the Oval Office, three months before; might actually be occurring before his very eyes; Brooks half-staggered back inside and, slightly stunned, made his way back to his office.

‘It wasn’t actually his office’, his mind rambled, and ‘it was just the office room that the University had lent him to use during his guest speaking engagement there.’

He dropped himself down in his chair.

Shaking his head to clear it, he picked up the stack of papers; graphs, charts, and tables, that he had accumulated on his desk, and began to sift through them.

He knew what he was looking for, but he kept thinking to himself: ‘be wrong. Be wrong. Please be wrong. Please let me be wrong. Please let me be wrong about this’ Over and over.

But then he found it, the data sheet from the RHSCO at the UW; and then from the North Atlantic Buoy Remote Data Sensing Center.

He had looked at it probably a dozen or more times before first going to Washington, and had even told the President about it, in the Oval Office.

But only now did he fully comprehend the significance of what he was reading.

The waters in the North Atlantic were getting fresher, all right, but more importantly, he now realized, it was getting warmer.

‘Warmer water’ He thought. ‘Warm water breeds stronger storms.’ ‘It would explain the powerful hurricanes in the Gulf.’ Brooks thought.

Quickly, he flipped open his computer and ran a quick search. When he finally found it, he smiled, he should have known.

The Director and Coordinator-in-charge on duty at the NOAA: NWS Forecast Office was an old friend of his, Sam Wood.

He checked his watch.

The office was way down in Romeoville, over fifty miles away.

He started to dial; he should call ahead. Then he stopped.

‘No’, he thought ‘They needed to see this information for themselves.’

He ran back outside.

The sun was even now low on the horizon.

He got into his car and pulled out of the parking lot.

6:30 PM

An hour later, Brooks pulled off of 53-North onto University Drive and then pulled into the parking lot of the NWS Office, seeing the planes on the tarmac beyond. When he got to the main front desk, he could see that they were getting ready to close up.

“I’m here to see Director Wood.” He said to the secretary.

“Name?” she asked tiredly.

“Doctor Jeremy Brooks.” He used his full title, and the secretary suddenly sat upright.

“Yes sir.” A few minutes later, another secretary came out and said “the director will see you now.”

Sam Wood was a tall young man in his early thirties, with close-cropped black hair, a Philadelphian or New Yorker’s fast-talking accent, and an easy, if slightly irritating, smile.

He was dressed in a dark navy blue dress shirt, the collar turned down, and a slightly leathery-looking light brown sports-jacket.

When Brooks finished making his case, Sam leaned back in his desk chair and said:

“I’ll contact my superiors, but you really need to talk to the EPA.”

“Or FEMA.” Brooks said.

Sam laughed, but Brooks had been only half kidding. “Tell you what” Sam said, looking around. “I’ll go with you.”

Brooks’ eyebrows went up. “You mean right now?”

“Why not?” Sam said, getting up. “I think Claudia can get this place tidied up alright.” He went out to talk to his secretary.

A little while later he came back, Brooks was packing up the papers.

“Well, It’s all arranged. You ready? Let’s go.”

Brooks recalled that, in Chicago, the EPA and FEMA were located at the same, shared address, downtown on Clark Street.

“Nice car.” Sam commented as Brooks drove. “Is this yours or…”

“It’s the University’s” Brooks replied.

Then Sam changed the subject. “I have a friend at the Department of the Interior and Natural Resources.” He looked at Brooks, as if studying him. “What’s this I hear about you working for the Government?”

“I really can’t discuss it.” Brooks said, and Sam raised an eyebrow, but he nodded.

“But suffice to say, the President asked me to take a job.”

“Wow!” Sam said, “The President asked you himself?”

“Her” Brookes corrected “And, well, yes.”

“Really? Whoa.”

Brooks nodded as modestly as he could manage.

“So… You’re working for the President?” Sam asked “Directly?”

Brooks said nothing.

Sam nodded and shrugged; “Alright, I understand, you can’t talk about it.”

By then, the sun was going down, casting the windowed surfaces of the Sears Tower and John Hancock Building in a brilliant yellow-orange glow.

Their first stop was the Federal Emergency Management Agency, located in the Congress Parkway Federal Building on South Clark Street, a genuinely imposing architectural terraced solid sandstone ten-story office block bordering on the corner of Congress and Clark.

Wood and Brooks had to wait in the lobby for what seemed to Jeremy to be quite a very long while. When they were finally at long last admitted and ushered into number 6, they were allowed and permitted to present their data and findings without interruption, but were told that there was practically very little that the Federal Emergency Management Agency could actually really do, as there had not been any emergency in Chicago, and any natural disaster had not yet occurred.

Their next stop was the Environmental Protection Agency housed in the Ralph H. Metcalf Federal Center on West Jackson Boulevard, with its pillared overhanging transparent glass windowed entryway.

The two had better luck at the Chicago Environment Department on North La Salle, who seemed to be genuinely interested in Brooks’ hypothesis and theory about the connection between the Alex in Tokyo and the plausibility of a possible hurricane in the Great Lakes.

It was, by that time, getting on later toward evening, and so; leaving Sam Wood to brief the City of Chicago officials on the Storm building out over Lake Michigan, Jeremy Brooks excused himself from the conference meeting, and hurried North up La Salle Street to the Governor James R. Thompson State of Illinois Center on West Randolph Street, with its purely postmodern all-glass exterior of curved insulated double-paned glass panels, layered partway around an immense skylight marble-floored atrium. He had to button and zip his overcoat all of the way up to his chin, and pull the collar lapels up against his ears to ward against the sharp and crisp wind that was gusting ferociously down the East-West Cross Streets as he passed the Chicago City Hall.

It was hot inside the Atrium’s interior, as he made his way to number eleven. The all-glass marble-floored atrium was noisy with the sounds of multiple voices, and yet the interior lacked the bustle and commotion one might expect to see inside a State Government and Federal Agency Office building.

When he arrived to three hundred, he found no one present in the City of Chicago Office of the Environmental Protection Agency. He had only one of the copies he and Sam had made of the data Brooks had collected about the Storm on Lake Michigan, so he slid the manila accordion file folder through the gap crack between the door jamb and the office window, and dropped it onto the nearest desktop in the darkened unlit office.

It was late in the evening by the time Jeremy brooks emerged form the elevator into the marble lobby entranceway of the Thompson Center, through the all-glass exterior, by the omnipresent hazy glow that persisted in the downtown metropolitan city center, he noticed with some interest that the straight line of towering, regularly triangular conical trees lining the paved stone cement sidewalk that bordered the façade of the Richard J. Daley Plaza Chicago Civic Center along West Randolph Street, were stripped bare of their leaves, unusual for early May, and were swaying perilously, at near-forty-five-degree angles, wildly in all directions towards and away  form one another and the building they bordered. As he strode toward the doors, approaching the glass entryway; Jeremy also noted curiously the lack of any people out on the intersection corner, nor what it was that he could see of Richard Daley Plaza.

The passage of time itself seemed to him to appear to slow down to a crawl as he stepped out of the swinging glass double doors of the Thompson Center, to stand in front of the monolithic Picasso-like sculpture in front of the all-glass exterior of the building.

His ears picked up and detected a sound like a jet airplane-flying overhead, approaching from the direction of the Friendship Restaurant and Windy City Captains Columbia Yacht Club on Lake Michigan, which steadily grew into a noise comparably similar to that of a freight train passing by.

Then, out the corner of his peripheral vision, his eyes noticed what appeared to be a roiling, churning transparent wall moving west along Randolph Street toward his direction. There were blasting popping sounds like multiple numerous fireworks-laden bottle rockets detonating as the glass windows of every single building along West Randolph Street imploded into the buildings as the moving mass of high pressure passed by them.

With the sound of standing next to beside a space plane lifting off, the parallel horizontal rows of transparent glass windows of 30-story Richard Daley Center, including the all-glass main ground floor entryway facing the Plaza, imploded, and Jeremy Brooks raised his arms, crossing his elbows in front of him to cover his face as, in very nearly almost the very same minute, he felt his whole body being physically lifted, bodily, up off of the grown, as he was forcefully thrown backward, crashing backside-first through the Picasso behind him, and being blown in a thunderous crash backward through the solid glass double-door entryway of the James Thompson Center. His hearing sang shrilly as his eardrums were blasted deep into his inner ears, against his skull, by the powerful force of the high-pressure blast shockwave.

His body struck the rear wall of the Atrium lobby, the wind tunnel blasting through the broken glass windows pinning him crushingly, spread-eagled and prone, against the cold marble of the lobby wall.

Then the front had passed; and as his body was released from the crushing force of the pressure, Brooks crumpled to the ground with a dull thump and a thud. His skull rang resoundingly from the back of his head having hit the marble, and all he could hear was a shrill whistle, even though a corner in the back of his brain knew the noise of the chaos that must be reigning just outside.

The last thing he could remember seeing was the towering trees of Daley Plaza, uprooted from their concrete cement plots, tumbling in end-over-end spirals past the shattered glass of the imploded wreckage of the Thompson Center; Then the world all around him; the storm, the city, the building, the street, faded to blackness, as he collapsed in a heap. Idiosyncratically, almost paradoxically, his last coherent thoughts were of a young woman whom he had only just met a couple of months earlier before.

“It is unsettling to be dictated to by the only transgressor in human history.”

•April 11, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Our “strategy”, if you can even call it that, with North Korea is, for all practical intents and purposes, effectively identical to our policy toward the Soviet Union during the Cold War: MAD, mutually assured destruction, except with two major differences:

1.) with North Korea it is a scenario of “they attack us, we attack them, and we win, they lose” [making the acronym more "MONO-DIRECTIONALLY Assured Destruction"], whereas with the Soviets it was “they attack us, we attack them, and NOBODY wins, EVERYONE loses”.

2.) For the most part, even when dealing with someone such as Joseph Stalin, we could pretty much be assured that the survival instinct for self-preservation of the USSR’s leaders would always prevent them from doing anything that might bring about their own destruction, whereas with first Kim Jong Il and now his son Kim Jong Un, we are dealing with men who have utterly convinced themselves and one another that they are, in fact, GODS. As the certifiably deranged leader of North Korea may very well, therefore, believe himself to be immortal and/or that he would ascend onto some higher plane of existence upon his death, we have little or no rational reason to count on the self-preservation instinct of such a madman.

That said, our foreign policy is ass-backwards. The United States Congress has not issued a declaration of war, as is REQUIRED by Article I of the Constitution of the United States of America, since December 1941. At no point has the United States EVER declared war on either the nation of Iraq OR the country of Afghanistan. Nor has either Iraq or Afghanistan ever declared war against the United States. YET, in this past first decade of the twenty-first century, those are the two nations in which our military armed forces have been “at war”. North Korea, however, HAS declared war against the United States [technically speaking the Korean War never ended, as neither side ever surrendered to or was ever conquered by the other, so the United States and North Korea have been "at war" with one another for more than half a century now]. In spite of this fact, like with Iraq and Afghanistan, the United States still has not yet declared war against North Korea.

There are, to my knowledge, at least half a dozen thermonuclear powers in the world, including the United States, Russia, China, India, Pakistan, and Israel. The reason why the Cold War stayed “cold”, even as all of these other countries developed nuclear technology, was because all of them obtained their weapons capabilities AFTER the United States obtained our own (Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Germany very nearly had thermonuclear fission, but we beat them to it). As the United States is, has been, and remains to this very day the ONLY nation in the history of the world to have ever USED thermonuclear weapons against another (in PEACETIME, no less), the nations that developed their own weapons after August 1945 harbored no doubts concerning America’s readiness, ability, and WILLINGNESS to use the weapons they had invented. Again, the self-preservation instinct prevented any of those nations from attacking any other for fear of us. HOWEVER, in North Korea, we again have a qualitatively demented leader who, having been raised since birth to believe himself to be a divine deity, fears NO ONE.

As i see it, whenever faced with such a threat, we as the world’s most powerful nation have three possible options.

The first is to infiltrate the populace of North Korea and incite them to overthrow their insane leader, the second is to conquer the North Korean capital by military force, and the third is to destroy the North Korean military, is supply infrastructure, and its command hierarchy.

Unfortunately, most if not all of the citizens of North Korea know little or nothing of the world outside its borders, as they get all of their information through the wholly state-owned and operated media. As anyone in the populace who even so much as hints that the government might not be being entirely truthful is never seen or heard from again, the citizens are left with little alternative except to believe what their government tells them, and any move, however covert, to persuade them that their government has been lying to them would be doomed to very nearly inevitable [and quite possibly devastating] failure.

Given the size of North Korea’s rigidly regimented, albeit poorly trained, army, the second option would doubtless require a commitment of American military resources at least as massive as that of the Iraq and Afghanistan “wars” over the past dozen years put together combined. However, as i believe was proved against the Nazis with Operation Overlord, an invasion of North Korea across the Demilitarized Zone from our already-established military bases in South Korea, with the express sole mission of conquering its capital of Pyongyang and its deranged leader Kim Jong Un could be successful. The drawback, no doubt, would be political, as the United States citizenry, war-weary from a decade of multiple repeated troop deployments overseas, would be highly unlikely to widely support such a commitment of forces so soon or any time in the even remotely foreseeable future.

The third option has the very real potential for such apocalyptic-scale civilian casualties that even Harry Truman himself, one of the greatest mass-genocidal sociopaths in the known recorded history of Western Civilization, would hesitate to so much as consider it as a possibility.

However, we presented with our current doomed-to-ultimate-failure policy of TRUSTING a worldwide thermonuclear peace that has been so vigilantly maintained for nearly three quarters of a century, to say nothing of the lives of quite literally tens of millions of innocent civilian men, women and children on our faith in the tendency of the certifiably insane to think and act rationally, we are left with but two options: either TAKE Pyongyang, or DESTROY it.

Those subscribing to the Bush Doctrine of “If you know that an enemy is coming in the morning to kill you, then get up early and kill him first” would no doubt advocate for the latter. The thermonuclear annihilation of North Korea may very well be inexorable, WHEN, not IF, their demented leader decides to make good on his threats. If so, then the only question we are left with is this: Would we prefer to destroy Pyongyang BEFORE North Korea decides to attack us, or to do so AFTER possibly tens of thousands of our citizens have been killed?

Why Anyone Who Claims that “Science Supports the Bible” is Lying

•March 26, 2013 • Leave a Comment
  1. Genesis 1:1: “In the beginning, God created the universe.”
    FALSE
    According to the First Law of Thermodynamics, the Law of the Conservation of Energy, the act of creation is a physical impossibility:
    “Energy cannot be created nor destr
    oyed, but it can be converted or transferred…The First Law of Thermodynamics states that energy can be converted from one form to another with the interaction of heat, work and internal energy, but it cannot be created nor destroyed, under any circumstances…energy is never created nor destroyed (thus, the first law of thermodynamics)…Energy is never created nor destroyed…the First Law of Thermodynamics states that energy is not created nor destroyed.” 
    http://chemwiki.ucdavis.edu/Physical_Chemistry/Thermodynamics/Laws_of_Thermodynamics/First_Law_of_Thermodynamics

    “The 1st Law of Thermodyamics simply states that energy can be neither created nor destroyed (conservation of energy)…The 1st Law of Thermodynamics tells us that energy is neither created nor destroyed, thus the energy of the universe is a constant.” 
    https://chemistry.osu.edu/~woodward/ch121/ch5_law.htm

    “First Law of Thermodynamics: Energy can be changed from one form to another, but it cannot be created or destroyed…The First Law of Thermodynamics (Conservation) states that energy is always conserved, it cannot be created or destroyed.” 
    http://www.emc.maricopa.edu/faculty/farabee/biobk/biobookener1.html

    “Energy cannot be created or destroyed” 
    http://www.energyeducation.tx.gov/energy/section_1/topics/law_of_conservation/index.html

    “Energy can neither be created nor destroyed” 
    http://hyperphysics.phy-astr.gsu.edu/‌hbase/conser.html

    “Energy cannot be created nor destroyed.” 
    http://www.fi.edu/guide/hughes/energyconservation.html

    “energy is neither created nor destroyed.” 
    http://www.grc.nasa.gov/WWW/k-12/airplane/thermo1f.html
  2. Genesis 1:2: “When the earth was as yet unformed and desolate, with the surface of the ocean depths shrouded in darkness, and while the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters,”
    WRONG
    The first oceans did not form until hundreds of millions of years AFTER the earth formed:
    “An ocean-free Earth existed, perhaps for several hundred million years as a consequence of extremely high surface temperatures following planetary accretion.” 
    http://serc.carleton.edu/NAGTWorkshops/earlyearth/questions/formation_oceans.html

    “The oceans formed on Earth 3.8 billion years ago. At this time the Solar System was about 1 billion years old.” 
    http://www.chem.duke.edu/~jds/cruise_chem/oceans/ocean1.html

    “Ocean formation made Earth habitable for life at about 4000 million years ago, leading to today’s highly complex organisms.” 
    http://www.globalchange.umich.edu/gctext/Inquiries/Inquiries_by_Unit/Unit_8.htm

    “Earth’s surface was apparently cool enough for oceans to form at 4.4 Ga” 
    http://www.geo.cornell.edu/eas/education/course/descr/EAS302/pdf_files/302_05Lecture10.pdf
     
  3. Genesis 1:3: “And God said: Be light made. And light was made.” Genesis 1:3: “Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.” -New American Standard Bible (©1995) “And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.” -King James 2000 Bible (©2003)
    WRONG
    Light is a form of energy. Energy cannot be created
    (SEE Law of Conservation of Energy above)
     
  4. Geneis 1:4: “And God seeth the light that it is good, and God separateth between the light and the darkness,”
    WRONG
    Darkness is, by definition, nothing more nor less than the ABSENCE of light. Therefore there exists no way to have one without the other. They are, thereby, NOT two distinct things. 
  5. Genesis 1:5: “calling the light “day,” and the darkness “night.” The twilight and the dawn were day one.”
    WRONG
    “Dawn” is sunrise. According to the Genesis account itself, this was BEFORE the formation of the sun. There can be no sunrise without a sun. 
  6. Genesis 1:6-7: “Then God said, “Let there be a space between the waters, to separate the waters of the heavens from the waters of the earth. And that is what happened. God made this space to separate the waters of the earth from the waters of the heavens.”
    WRONG
    Outer space is NOT full of water. There are NO “waters” of the “heavens”. 
  7. Genesis 1:8: “God called the canopy “sky.” The twilight and the dawn were the second day.”
    WRONG
    SEE #5 
  8. Genesis 1:9: “Then God said, “Let the waters below the heavens be gathered into one place, and let the dry land appear”; and it was so.” -New American Standard Bible (©1995) ”And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so.” -King James 2000 Bible (©2003) Genesis 1:9-10: “Then God said, “Let the water beneath the sky come together into one area, and let dry ground appear!” And that is what happened: God called the dry ground “land,” and he called the water that had come together “oceans.” And God saw how good it was.”
    WRONG
    For the first half-billion years of earth’s history, it was molten ball of rock. In other words, the WHOLE planet was dry land. The first water was introduced from comets vaporizing upon striking the superheated surface. Even after the first oceans formed from the resulting precipitation, for hundreds of millions of years, all of the continents we know today were clumped together as one. So it was the SEAS that “appeared”, not the land. And there was no “separation” of land masses until hundreds of million of years later, and even today it is only inches per year. Dry land came first, THEN water:
    “At this time, 3.8 billion years ago, water condensed into rain and poured onto the land. Water collected in low lying areas which gradually became the primitive oceans.” 
    http://www.chem.duke.edu/~jds/cruise_chem/oceans/ocean1.html

    “Water vapor is the dominant form of gas released in outgassing, so much that Earth’s early atmosphere became saturated with water, leading to an era of continuous rain on the planet. These rains contributed to cooling of the Earth’s surface and the formation of the first oceans, which today cover two thirds of the surface…The continuous rains and atmospheric CO2 removal cooled our planet and created a surface where water could eventually be present in all three phases: vapor, liquid and solid…After the differentiation and outgassing period in Earth’s early history, the water vapor that accumulated in the atmosphere changed to torrential rains that lasted millions of years, leading to the first oceans. The formation of oceans was likely complemented by the impact of icy comets that brought water to the surface.” 
    http://www.globalchange.umich.edu/gctext/Inquiries/Inquiries_by_Unit/Unit_8.htm
     
  9. Genesis 1:11: “Then God said, “Let the earth sprout vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees on the earth bearing fruit after their kind with seed in them”; and it was so.” -New American Standard Bible (©1995) ”And God said, Let the earth bring forth vegetation, the plants yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after its kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so.” -King James 2000 Bible (©2003) Genesis 1:11-12: “And God saith, ‘Let the earth yield tender grass, herb sowing seed, fruit-tree (whose seed is in itself) making fruit after its kind, on the earth:’ and it is so. And the earth bringeth forth tender grass, herb sowing seed after its kind, and tree making fruit (whose seed is in itself) after its kind; and God seeth that it is good;”
    WRONG
    The first fruit trees evolved millions of years AFTER the first plants: 
    http://bio.research.ucsc.edu/people/parker/Galloway_caimito.htmlhttp://www.ias.ac.in/jbiosci/march2000/DIDFLESHYFRUIT.PDF

    http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22660326

    Single-celled plants are NOT grass, are NOT herbs, and do NOT yield seeds. The first plants were entirely AQUATIC, meaning that they were NOT “brought forth” by EARTH (dirt, soil, ground, etc.), but by WATER. 
  10. Genesis 1:13: “The twilight and the dawn were the third day.”
    WRONG
    SEE #5 & #7 
  11. Genesis 1:14: “Then God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years;” -New American Standard Bible (©1995) ”And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years:” -King James 2000 Bible (©2003) Genesis 1:14-15: “Then God said, “Let there be lights in the sky to separate the day from the night. They will be signs and will mark religious festivals, days, and years. To shine in the firmament of heaven, and to give light upon the earth. And it was so done.”
    FALSE
    The oldest known star is fourteen and a half billion years old:

    http://science.psu.edu/news-and-events/2013-news/Bond3-2013

    There were no religious festivals for tens of BILLIONS of years after the stars formed. 
  12. Genesis 1:16-17: “And God maketh the two great luminaries, the great luminary for the rule of the day, and the small luminary — and the stars — for the rule of the night; To shine in the firmament of heaven, and to give light upon the earth. And it was so done. to dominate the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good.”
    FALSE
    The sun formed hundreds of millions of years BEFORE the earth: The sun is about five billion years old:

    http://solar-center.stanford.edu/FAQ/Qage.html

    http://www.as.utexas.edu/astronomy/education/fall07/harvey/secure/pmhch11b.pdf
     
  13. Genesis 1:20: “Then God said, “Let the waters swarm with fish and other life. Let the skies be filled with birds of every kind.” Genesis 1:20: “And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that has life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven.” -King James 2000 Bible (©2003)
    WRONG
    Birds evolved hundreds of millions of years AFTER fish:
    “Where did birds come from? They evolved from theropod dinosaurs…Birds evolved from feathered theropods” 
    http://www.geo.wvu.edu/~kammer/g231/Birds.pdf

    “birds evolved from small carnivorous dinosaurs of the Late Jurassic…birds evolved from these theropod dinosaurs” 
    http://evolution.berkeley.edu/evolibrary/article/evograms_06
     
  14. Genesis 1:21: “And God created great whales, and every living creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly, after their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that it was good.” -King James Bible (Cambridge Ed.) Genesis 1:21-22: “And God created great whales, and every living creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly, after their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that it was good. Then God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply. Let the fish fill the seas, and let the birds multiply on the earth.”
    FALSE
    Whales were NOT created. Whales, like every other animal on earth, EVOLVED:
    Sharks did not evolve until AFTER the first land animals: 
    http://jrscience.wcp.muohio.edu/fieldcourses05/PapersMarineEcologyArticles/TheEvolutionofSharks-fina.html

    Whales did not evolve until hundreds of millions years later: 
    http://ocean.si.edu/ocean-videos/evolution-whales-animation

    “the first whales evolved over 50 million years ago…whales evolved from walking land mammals…These ancient whales evolved over 40 million years ago.” 
    http://evolution.berkeley.edu/evolibrary/article/evograms_03

    “they evolved by gradual change over time, losing terrestrial features, and gaining aquatic adaptations…they must have evolved from a particular group of four-legged land mammals millions of years ago.” 
    http://www.indiana.edu/~ensiweb/lessons/whale.ev.html

    “whale evolution begins with an as yet unidentified early Eocene terrestrial artiodactyl ancestor” 
    http://www-personal.umich.edu/~gingeric/PDFfiles/PDG413_Whaleevol.pdf

    Needless to say that neither was ever “created”.
  15. Genesis 1:24-25: “Then God said, “Let the earth produce every sort of animal, each producing offspring of the same kind–livestock, small animals that scurry along the ground, and wild animals.” And that is what happened. God made all sorts of wild animals, livestock, and small animals, each able to produce offspring of the same kind. And God saw that it was good.”
    WRONG
    There was no livestock until the advent of agriculture, hundreds of millions of years after the first animals evolved. And liestock were NOt made by god, but by humans through domestication:

    http://www.hcs.ohio-state.edu/hcs/TMI/HCS210/HortOrigins/BrDomestic.html
     
  16. Genesis 1:26-28: “Then God said, “Let us make human beings in our image, to be like us. They will reign over the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky, the livestock, all the wild animals on the earth, and the small animals that scurry along the ground. God created humankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them. God blessed them. God said to them, “Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, and subdue it. Have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the sky, and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”
    WRONG
    Humans are in no way, shape, or form the dominant species on the planet earth, and never have been. 
  17. Genesis 1:29: “And God said: Behold I have given you every herb bearing seed upon the earth, and all trees that have in themselves seed of their own kind, to be your meat:”
    WRONG
    The overwhelmingly vast majority of all known plants on earth are poisonous to humans. 
  18. Genesis 1:30: “And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creeps on the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat: and it was so.”
    WRONG
    Not all animals on earth are herbivores, and never have been. 
  19. Genesis 2:5: “No plant of the field was yet in the earth, and no herb of the field had yet sprung up; for Yahweh God had not caused it to rain on the earth. There was not a man to till the ground,”
    WRONG
    According to Genesis 1:11-12, plants already existed. 
  20. Genesis 2:6: “Instead, an underground stream would arise out of the earth and water the surface of the ground.”
    FALSE
    The earth is NOT full of water. 
  21. Genesis 2:7: “And the Lord God formed man of the slime of the earth: and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living soul.”
    WRONG
    Humans are NOT made of dirt. 
  22. Genesis 2:19-20: “The LORD God had formed all the wild animals and all the birds out of the ground. Then he brought them to the man to see what he would call them. Whatever the man called each creature became its name. He gave names to all the livestock, all the birds of the sky, and all the wild animals. But still there was no helper just right for him.”
    WRONG
    According to the Book of Genesis, humans were “created” BEFORE all other animals.
    The first life on earth dates to three and half Billion years ago: 
    http://paleobiology.si.edu/geotime/main/htmlversion/archean3.html

    The Species homo Sapiens only evolved 200,000 years ago: 
    http://anthro.palomar.edu/homo2/mod_homo_4.htm
     
  23. Genesis 2:22: “The LORD God fashioned into a woman the rib which He had taken from the man, and brought her to the man.”
    FALSE
    Women are NOT made of rib.


Among my sources were the following: 

  1. Carleton College: 
    http://serc.carleton.edu/index.html
  2. Cornell University: 
    http://www.eas.cornell.edu
     
  3. Duke University: 
    http://www.chem.duke.edu
     
  4. Estrella Mountain Community College: 
    http://www.estrellamountain.edu
  5. The Franklin Institute: 
    http://www2.fi.edu
  6. Georgia State University: 
    http://www.phy-astr.gsu.edu/new_web/index.html
     
  7. Indiana University: 
    http://www.indiana.edu
  8. Miami University: 
    http://jrscience.wcp.muohio.edu/html/index.html
  9. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration: 
    http://www.nasa.gov/centers/glenn/home/index.html
  10. Ohio State University: 
    https://chemistry.osu.edu/
  11. Palomar College: 
    http://palomar.edu
  12. Pennsylvania State University: 
    http://science.psu.edu
  13. The Smithsonian Institution: 
    http://paleobiology.si.edu


    http://ocean.si.edu
     
  14. Stanford University: 
    http://solar-center.stanford.edu
  15. The United States Department of Health and Human Services: 
    http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov
  16. The United States Department of the Interior: 
    http://pubs.er.usgs.gov
  17. The University of California-Berkeley: 
    http://evolution.berkeley.edu
  18. The University of California-Davis: 
    http://chemwiki.ucdavis.edu
     
  19. The University of California-Santa Cruz: 
    http://pbsci.ucsc.edu
  20. The University of Michigan: 
    http://www.globalchange.umich.edu
  21. The University of Texas at Austin: 
    http://www.as.utexas.edu
  22. West Virginia University: 
    http://www.geo.wvu.edu

Book I: Chapter 9: “I Want You”

•February 16, 2013 • Leave a Comment

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C

Friday, February 16, 2063;

7:35 PM

Jeremy Brooks turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue, then crossed and turned into the arc-shaped parking driveway of the White House’s North Facade.

One of the young, but armed, guards in the gatehouse by the gate checked his ID, running it through a computerized scanner, had said something into his earpiece. The other listened for a bit, glanced down at his license plate, and said something into his earpiece.

Then the guards had a brief conversation into their earpieces. Then they waved him forward, smiling slightly at him.

He parked his car where he’d been instructed to park it, just inside the gate.  As he parked and got out of the car, he heard one guard say, under his breath, to the other something to the extent of “Lucky man”, and something else as he walked up the White House’s North Lawn. He climbed the steps to the South Portico, and then he opened the doors and stepped inside. He was walking along and looking down the halls admiringly when a man, who was apparently a very wealthy butler, stepped up to meet him in the main Lobby.

“Gods, You nearly frightened the hell out of me!” he said, jumping back at the butler’s abrupt appearance.

“My apologies, Mister Brooks,” the butler said, always happy to see a fellow Englishman, and hearing Brooks’ British accent. “This way sir.” The butler said, turning and leading across the lobby and into a stairwell, up the stairs, to a second floor landing. He stopped there, but waved Brooks forward. “Mistress Katherine is expecting you.”

Brooks walked forward through the door, half-wondering how the butler knew his name, and pondering the way the butler referred the President, by her first name: Katherine. He waited in the main hall of the Residence, looking around, admiringly.

“Mister Brooks.”

He turned to see President ‘Katherine’ Janney standing in the doorway of the brightly lit State Dining Room.

She was dressed in a shimmering blue silk wraparound long-sleeved shirt and blouse, and a long, tight, shin-length black skirt. He went over toward her.

He had nearly reached her when a melodic, noticeably Northwestern voice from behind her called: “Aunt Kate!”

They both turned.

A tall young woman, a girl really, stood in the doorway of the Red Room opposite. She startled when she saw Brooks appear at the President’s side, then her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

President Janney was quick to make the introductions; “Mister Brooks, This is Julia Gates-Allen, my niece.”

It was Brooks’ turn to startle.

He could now begin to see the definite family resemblance: Both women were tall, Julia was nearly as tall as he was; Janney’s bright copper hair seemed almost the opposite inverse of Julia’s dark maroon-ebony brown; Janney’s hair was long, but it curled over her shoulders, but Julia’s hair was long and straight, flowing in long, dark waves over her shoulders. But what Brooks noticed first, and noticed the most was the eyes, whereas Janney had brilliant, bright blue-green eyes, Julia had the most amazing eyes Jeremy thought he had ever seen. They were shining mother-of-pearl and they seemed to glitter as they caught even the dimmest light. Maybe he noticed her eyes so much because at that moment they were narrowly fixed on him with a fiery intensity.

Julia looked him up and down, her eyes scanning, as if they could somehow see right inside him, and flashing. Then she seemed satisfied, and nodded.

Then she turned back to her ‘Aunt Kate’.

“Jenny and I are going down to go to a movie.” Her eyes flashed back at Brooks, sitting at her aunt’s side, with such icy intensity that it was almost chilling. “Enjoy your meal.” With that, Julia turned, whipping her hair behind her as she walked briskly away down the hall.

‘This is Julie?’ Brooks thought to himself, ‘Her niece?’

“Cute kid.” He said. He turned to find President Janney looking at him, and he decided to drop the matter for now.

They stepped into the extravagant family dining room…

Later, in the Private Dining Room upstairs, over a sumptuous meal of chicken pasta al fredo Primavera, Brooks finally spoke up. “So,” he said, “Julia is your niece? Is there a story there?”

Janney sighed. “Yeah, She’s my sister’s kid.” She said. “Her Parents had to move to Europe, to work for the E.U.I.B.”

Brooks nodded, He was familiar with the European Union Intelligence Bureau.

“And they had, or rather have, a provision that says that their agents must have no “dependants”. It was a big custody fiasco, so then I kind of volunteered to take Julie ‘under my wing’ as it were for a few months.” She finished, gesturing. “Well, those ‘few months’ turned into ten years; and now, for all practical purposes, she’s mine.” She shrugged.

Brooks nodded in understanding, although he didn’t really completely. ‘Ten years?’ He thought. “So she was six then?” he asked.

“Eight. She’s seventeen now, finishing High School, graduating in May, on top of her class.”

“And what’s it all about with the…” He gestured to his own body.

“The clothes?” An ebony eyebrow lifted.

“Yeah.” Brooks had noticed Julia wearing a shimmering dark-blue, halter-strapped, sequined tube top and knee-length black skirt.

Janney shrugged. “She’s a teenager, niece of the President of the United States, she lives in the White House, and she’s naturally a bit of a socialite.”

Brooks decided to leave it at that.

“So,” Janney said, “Back to business.”

Brooks looked up from his meal just in time to see her leaning over the small table to grasp his hands in hers, to ensure that she had his complete attention.

It did.

Brooks glanced down at their hands, then back at her face. When he looked into her eyes, he saw her return his gaze, and he saw only earnestness and focus, as if he were the single most important thing in her mind now. It made him feel warm and good; if not a bit uneasy, inside. But her next words jerked his attention back to the realities at hand.

“The cracks of it”, she said earnestly, gazing at him intently, still leaning over the table from where she was sitting and still grasping his hands in hers; “is that I want to recruit you…” She paused, “No, hire you, to be the official Science liaison to the White House for the duration of this crisis.”

What she was not telling him was that his actual position and title would in fact be Science Liaison to the Oval Office and to the President herself.

Even though she really wanted to tell Brooks everything, Jan had suggested this course of action, which she thought best; being of the opinion, and probably, likely, quite correct; that such information would cause him to get overly anxious.

“That man has a crush on you.” Her personal secretary had told the President earlier that day, after Brooks had left the West Wing. “I can see it. And you should too. Don’t overload on him.” It was Jan that had suggested that she introduce Brooks to Julie, and “see what he thinks of her.”

Even so, she really did want to tell Brooks everything.

She had to admit to herself, and was surprisingly unembarrassed to do so, that she enjoyed hearing him speak, the sound of his voice.

It seemed strange, but she suddenly wanted to tell Brooks all about her; her years at Louis and Clark University, for the second to last year of which, 2049, this man, Jeremy Brooks, had been only miles away, receiving his degree from Reed College; then her moving to Harvard …

A stray memory clicked; She had met and befriended an older young man at Harvard, named William Brooks, who had just begun his doctorate there in ’49. She thought to mention it to Jeremy, see if he had any relation. And what if they did have some relation: A brother perhaps? How would it make Brooks feel if she told him that she lived for a year in the same house as his brother? Would he get jealous?  She’d tell him some other time, she decided.

But then Jan’s words once again came back into her mind: “That man has a crush on you.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Watching him, She noticed how his eyes had panned up her body when he first saw her tonight, as they had wandered and wound their way, taking their sweet time getting up her torso to her face. And she recalled once again his appraising, even admiring, expression, the way his eyes seemed to light up when he smiled at her, or had she detected something more in his deep blue eyes? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that man becoming one of her personal aides and advisors, a liaison no less. ‘It excited her and made her nervous in about equal proportions,’ she decided. She was not exactly sure why it should make her nervous. She sensed an unfamiliar thrill of, (was it anticipation?), running up and down her spine, though she couldn’t tell quite why. ‘But then again,’ she thought, sighing. She was thinking about things, and feeling things, that she hadn’t since she was in college, living with Will.

Her quiver caused Brooks to look up at her.

They finished their meal, making small talk not mentioning the fact that she had just offered him a high-ranking position in the United States Federal Government, in her Executive Branch no less.

It was late on a Friday night. Kenneth Welsh, her Chief of Staff; or her Vice President; “Teddy” Matheson; usually took care of the West Wing whenever she requested personal time, or time to spend with Julie. They understood that she must be a parent first, however surrogate, a President second and a single woman third.

But she still worried that Kenneth might have left the Deputy Chief of Staff in charge. Leo Spencer was young, only 36, relatively new to the administration, having been initially brought in barely over a year ago as a substitute for Ken when he had suffered a near-stroke and badly injured his knees, and had comparatively little federal and national political experience. At least Leo knew his way around the West Wing, and the Oval Office, even though her personal aide, Alex Hall, was supposed to prevent that. But young Alex would certainly need Jan’s help dealing with someone like Leo.

She also knew that she would to have to speak to Kristin Ludlowe, her White House Communications Director, and Gina Everett, the White House Press Secretary, first thing in the morning.

With the paparazzi and media sharks camping out, sometimes literally, around the White House, Brooks would undoubtedly have attracted their cameras, driving up to the North Face, or the “back door” of the Residence earlier this evening; and if they weren’t careful, those pictures could wind up on the front page of the Post by noon tomorrow.

“So,” he said, putting his suit jacket back on; “Is there anything special that I need to do? Or…” He said, knowing that she was looking at him, but not meeting her eyes.

“Not really,” She replied coolly; “Just report to the West Wing on Monday morning, seven-thirty should be fine. My Deputy Chief of Staff, Leo Spencer, will meet you in the Lobby, and we’ll go from there.”

Brooks nodded, though she could tell he was thinking about something else.

After they had shaken hands and he had walked out, she closed the door and, without even thinking about it, she leaned her back against it, laying her head back against the heavy oak door.

She started to smile again, shaking her head. She was still smiling when she got upstairs.

Julia was waiting in the East Hallway, arms crossed over her chest. When she saw her aunt smiling, she cocked her head and looked sardonically at Kate, almost disappointment in her. Kate shrugged; her smile going crooked, but said nothing. She didn’t need to explain herself, and Julia threw up her hands, turned, and walked into her bedroom, closing the door. Kate could understand her niece’s skepticism. She had never brought a man here before; and even before she became President, she only occasionally brought men home at all. So she couldn’t blame Julie for being so critical of her choice this time.

Taking one final look at the closed-door of the Lincoln Bedroom, Katherine Janney turned and walked quietly through the passageway into her own room. What was it they called this room: the “Queen’s Bedroom”? She recalled that the paparazzi and press media alike often referred to Julie Gates-Allen as the “heiress”, or even “Princess” of the United States. Julie had a boyfriend that she often saw; and had brought home several times already; and who now attended Georgetown University; named Ryan Seaborne. Might there someday soon be a Prince of Washington in the White House?

With these kinds of thoughts rolling around in her head, Kate undid the clasps on the buttons of her blouse, hanging the shirt neatly in one of the room’s walk-in closets. She laid back on the sheeted mattress, pulling the heavy covers up over her chest and shoulders.

For reasons unclear even to her; after the evening’s interactions with Jeremy Brooks, the way that he had treated her, she decided as she drifted gently, easily off to sleep; she sure felt like a Queen tonight.

 
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