Monthly Archives: September 2012

The Ghost Lamp – A Photograph


Authorized – A Photograph


Taken at St. Edwards State Park, Kenmore, WA, September 23, 2012.

Speaking in Tongues – A Short Story

This is the transcript of Ms. Rhonda Wainwright, subject #RW-PKB120724:

“I’m concerned about clean water supplies. Does anyone know if any of these cities _don’t_ fluoridate the water? I wouldn’t want my babies drinking that. We only drink bottled water now that the system we were hooked to by the county has fluoride in it. The government seems to meddle in everything right now. Don’t you find that it seems like more and more of our taxes are being spent on more and more sinful things? I can’t believe that Communist dictator of Cuba is taking American chemotherapy. If he was really ready to die for the revolution, don’t you think he’d not use the yellow running dog imperialist capitalist pharmaceutical output built upon the slave labor of the oppressed developed world laboratory technicians? I mean really! The gall of it. Don’t get me started, or I’ll give you an earful about hedge fund managers that should be strung up by their duodenums from the gibbards. Those rat bastards put a dent in George Bush’s economy and prevented that professional aircraft destroyer and oh my God I love her shoes from taking their blessed, rightful position at the helm of this great nation. Instead, we were cursed with the wickedness of the evil Joe Biden, forehead of portent doom. I mean those Democrats haven’t put up a Vice-Presidential candidate without a forehead freeclimbers on El Capitan dream about in their fecally resplendent cocoons. One cannot trust the freethinkers of California – their reefer dreams have infected the very birds and bees of the countryside, leaving Mother Nature to weep over seedy dispensaries atop storm drains that drain to stream with the effluent of the very machines that convey us to our doom. Yay, the hour is neigh that Lucifer shall rise up from upon his coaly throne and bring righteousness to the wicked and apostasy to the devout. For Satan is but a fallen agel, dropped from the lap of God for soiling his mighty white tunic and befouling the aether. My ex used to fart like a coon dog on squirrels and I was so happy when I finally kicked him and that freeloading sister of his out of our apartment. I mean the nerve of some people! She had the utter audacity to put the butter dish in the icebox without a cover! Can you imagine! Butter that tastes like leeks and ham? Gosh I hope the Dark One smites her down into melted butter! Billy’d always said that long pig tasted better in butter, but he ain’t never brought none home. He said’n he’d only had it on the river, downstream where it gets all hot and jungly, and twern’t fit for man nor beast, only Frenchman and Creoles. I saw this voodoo princess at Disneyland once, (the Florida one, not the California one,) with these hawt tattoos, and it got me thinkin’ of of my lover, Jimmy Beam and his 750ml of liquid brown essence, make a man out of a woman and a woman out of a man, fool noobody but themselves and the drunks. They go down the dark way, towards Soddom Hussein’s way and Im’a sure he’s a gonna change. Speaking of those professional rip-off artists, what the fuck is up with Nickelback? WHY ARE THEY EVEN STILL TALKED ABOUT? Jezzus Khrist they’ve gotten more airplay than Zappa and they’re a scintilla of the musical chops of Frank, Allah Rest His Soul. OMG, did you see that Van Halen was touring again? Valerie looks better than Diamond Dave in a dress and I wish it would stay that way. I find that comment systems on publically available websites are great places to pick up learnings about revolutionary thinking to topple the white, male, patriarchy that holds the systers down! Did you know that paradichloral benzene mixed with high-test petrol creates a napalm so effective, that only UN peacekeepers in Syria is allowed to use? It’s true. During the siege of Galal and Ga, they used it to great effect to repel the hordes of alien invaders. Those bastards didn’t even have green cards, and being from Japan and all, got a free ride during the Reagan administration, which was almost tragically cut short due to Bobby Dinero’s crackerjack performance in Dog Day of the Condor from the 1970’s. Isn’t Robert Redford dreamy? Sorry, I got sidetracked there for a minute on a bridge maintained by the county that those lazy SOBs haven’t inspected since the Wilson administration. There was a socialst president. Starting that League of Nations bullshit. Lot of good that did, except for the lobbyists in Gucci Gulch, as always. State dinners here, consul relations there; where’s the crystal fork, my dear? Those same said lobbyists that talked to those bankers on gibbards, I’d say! Additional scoundrels, dredged from the oily deeps of adolescence and student association elections. Only the psychopaths won, but the sychophants smelled opportunity that they’ve leveraged into a new Mandarin class, formulaic in their spreadsheet accuracy to the bottom line of their corporate lollipop, that they lick and lick, looking for the center by never finding it, they being too wedded to their steady minstrations of the USC like dung beatles to the feast. Rise up, rise up, I say and cast the liars and cheats from the hallowed chambers they have soiled by their very small presence of mind within it, diminishing them by their petty, self-aggrandizing thoughts. Only true patriots need apply. Leave your cable, your doggie day care, your yoga mat and your gossipy ways behind as you storm the gates of citizenship and reclaim your earned birthrights of dignity, sanity and leadership. Step away from the anti-thought people who seek to control you via religion, politics and economic injustice wrought upon a subdued populance conditioned to believe it’s for their own good. Oh dear. That sounds awfully messy, and I wouldn’t want those dirty, smelley [insert current terrorist profile here] bastards to win, so I’ll gladly have my innards and outards irradiated like haggis. Be free, I say, be free!

When I can start bottle-feeding my baby CocaCola?”

Dropped – A Short Story

The servicemech moved to the next bay and repeated the cycle. It flipped the main circuit on, tested the pathways, affixed a time and location marker, activated the telemetry systems, and checked the power generation subsystems for stability.

Satisfied that all was well, it cleared the niche’s occupant for drop and moved to the next bay.

Punching planetward at hypersonic speeds, the bow shock went from invisibly dark to red to white in seconds. Ablative plates melted into fragmentary slag that cast off molten runnels and fluid drops that further aerosolized into the atmosphere. LIDAR monitored range, and at the defined value, initiated the descent thrusters.

More expensive models would have gravity surfed down using microgrips of the local brane deformation and not required the internal gyroscopic gimbals for payload stabilization, but this was a budget-conscious operation.

The peat was on fire now and would likely burn for centuries. A fish splashed nearby – an attempt upon a dragonfly that flew up and away from the brief, mirrored reflection of itself that it was investigating, pulled in a thermal away from the now rapidly cooling sphere.

The frogs resumed their chorus first, no longer seeing anything moving, and then their backing symphony quickly swelled to full volume within the naturally encircling amphitheater of conifer and deciduous trees. At least, what remained of it that wasn’t scorched to grey ash.

Sensing internal azimuth cardinal direction variance exceedence from local gravity, a panel located at the orb’s 0,0,0 location recessed open and slid away, fully exposing an opening. With a burp, a leaded weight crimped upon a line was ejected and landed in the mud five meters away.

The gossamer filiment of the line settled atop the muck, spectrum sparkling in the sun’s light, which now penetrated to the surface through the newly smashed hole in the canopy. The end of the line, now embedded within the humus, began to grow straight down into gravity’s well until it encountered bedrock.

Sensing the crystal matrix, the line split into a random radiating splay across the surface for nine meters before sending deep roots down into the rock across the radii. Thus securely anchored, the burrowed nanoline began to tension and solidify upwards, perpendicular to the plane of the local field. Once above the surface, the tensioning began to pull the capsule towards the bedrock anchor and it eventually began to climb up the line and sit atop it like a finial.

Achieving proper orientation, it began to eat itself down the line now and then settled back into the mud and revealed itself to be an errant, alloy palantír as its exposed surface danced through the spectrum as it cycled through reflection, absorption, and emission.

A sharp exhaled hiss accompanied the unscrewing and rotation up of the entire upper hemisphere as the internal, argon atmosphere mixed into the planet’s mostly nitrogen one. After being completely unfastened, hydraulic lifts elevated the dome until it toppled away.

Now fully exposed, the cargo activated and disengaged from the harness before clambering out of the probe, intent upon its mission.

Copyright 2012, Heather Kilbourn

30,056 of ???

Still writing. Finally cracked 30K words after over a month’s hiatus.