Spoiler Warning

Who needs shelves, anyway?

2009-03-18T21:17:00.000-04:00

My impression of the Kindle 2 is, uh, impressive.

Hey, look! It's the mini art movie that kickass not-really-trip-hop early nineties phenomenon Portishead:

Yeah, Beth Gibbons is really sad.

I finally got their Roseland NYC concert DVD. Good times.

And I also got the Kindle 2, which makes it all to easy for me to start catching up on my high school reading list once and for all.

I had a bit of a paradigm shift: I can only imagine that this will do to books what the iTunes store did to CDs, and what Netflix is poised to do to DVDs.

While it can't replace having actual books on actual shelves, it does bring the convenience of shopping everywhere with zero additional stuff to carry. So until I throw out my suitcase, the Kindle travels with me.

Nice feature is I can email docs to read on it. The epaper is pretty good, and the form factor is better than a netbook, let alone the iphone screen. I only wonder what the rumored Apple netbook touchscreen will do to this.

We'll see.

Graphic Novel Vague

2009-03-07T12:22:00.001-05:00

Got about 90 minutes to kill? Wondering what the deal is with that Philip Glass guy?

More importantly, want to see a beautiful snapshot of industrialized American society circa 1982, all int time lapse?

Here you go:

That's Koyaanisqatsi, the first in the Qatsi trilogy of avant garde films made by some guy complaining about how dehumanizing technology is, and how humanity sucks in general. Personally, I think the Glass score is inspiring in an Ayn-Rand-Fountainhead-temple-of-human-bigness sort of way. The second and third movies apparently weren't as good. The third one has a good score with Yo-Yo Ma doing his usual cello-for-highest-bidder thing (why else Seven Years in Tibet?) but the visuals for that one are all really crappy montages of doctored photos.

One of the best scenes of Koyaanisqatsi was a juxtaposition of microchip circuits with city grids. How much to fall to replace that with representing information as flying ones and zeroes? Flying Greek symbols and atom bombs? Seriously, nuclear destruction is so twenty years ago. Hold that thought.

My favorite scene in Koyaanisqatsi was probably the "Vessels" movement opening, with a 747 taxiing through a mirage. Beautiful.

And here is someone's tribute to art films and Rolla, MO:

As for Watchmen...

I love the graphic novel a lot. It's pretty much the best the medium can achieve for a long time. So I tried the beat em up game on PSN, and decided to watch it opening night, last night.

Probably the best an adaptation of the GN could hope to be. Attention to detail was off the charts good.

So they monkeyed around with the ending a bit, replacing the giant telepathic squid. I think that it potentially works better that way, trimming a bit of extraneousness from the source material and tightening things up a bit. There were extra bits and pieces at the end, one of which, I thought, improved on the ending -- a simple minute of added interaction that ended up making Ozymandias not look like the arrogant prick that he ended up being in the GN. Arrogant, sure, but certainly more aware of the magnitude of what he did.

I just went back and skimmed through the finish of the GN again. I just noticed some things that I didn't catch before, and I'm not sure which version I like better. I will have to read the GN again and figure out if I like my watchemen with more or less nobility to them.

But yeah, this was the first movie I've seen in the theaters in a while, and it was worth it. Food for thought.

One more thing to not update

2009-01-11T11:17:00.002-05:00

I put Twitter back in here on the left. One more thing for me to not update, perhaps, but at least I can tweet on my phone.

Coming Soon

2008-12-06T17:56:00.000-05:00

Up soon, I'll reveal the lost Aeschylus play: Orestes Beyond Thunderdome. Stay tuned, kids.

Vertigogo

2008-11-27T17:45:00.000-05:00

Beat Mirror's Edge last week, seemed like a good enough game with its faux-parkour move set, though I have to agree with the general consensus in that it could have been a whole lot more, gameplay wise. But I won't, instead I'll say that the character models were so bad that it was the real reason they made the combat clunky and did almost all of the cutscenes in cel-shaded Esurance mode. Hopefully they do an intellectual sequel that does the idea justice. Perhaps a game where you literally do nothing but run away from baddies the whole time, and not just in a Kojima cheap move sort of way.

Valkyria Chronicles, on the other hand, was just an all around great experience. As the game progressed, I found myself in familiar territory -- it was a vaguely Miyazaki-style setting, with twenties industry crossed with a certain medieval flair. The characters were well done enough, the action sequences enjoyable, and the plot resolved itself comfortably without being frustrating. And the art style was spot on perfect.

In the end, it was more entertaining than most half-season anime series, and it had an interesting story to tell. Up next, time to see about finishing the enjoyable if rather uncompelling Dead Space.

Now for some pie.

Star Treck

2008-11-17T22:49:00.000-05:00

So how about that new Star Trek trailer?

A lot of fans have their tunics in a twist over this. They complain about the lack of continuity and the changed design cues that make them uncomfortable.

This is a good thing.

The original Star Trek was about having fun. Sure, it had its heavyhanded extended metaphors, but the sheer idea of it all, and the fact that everybody involved was having a good time, more than made up for it. The problem seems to be that there was a Next Generation that stole the mindshare of a generation of fans -- people who thought of it as somehow more genuine than the good old TOS. Sure it had more new worlds and better effects, but it was just so damn smug. And not a lot of fun.

What the franchise needs is a good kick in the head. (Well, and a fresh start, I guess.) There's something just unpleasant about the idea of canon. After all, if there's only one telling of the story that drags on, it's just a franchise. You have to start taking hammer and tongs to continuity to get to the meat of things -- becoming myth. Look at Batman. Batman as myth transcends the fact that most Batman tellings weren't actually very good. We only remember the great ones, and they contradict each other.

I have to wonder, though, if Abrams is the right man for the job. Even if he doesn't do a very good job of it, he'll have popped open the box, and we'll see more resets soon.

Resets are a good thing. Ask Batman.

Your tank is in my fantasy!

2008-11-11T08:13:00.000-05:00

Remember Ring of Red? The tactical RPG about an alternate history Japan divided and conquered by the Nazis and Soviets in the bizarro Cold War? With its various infantry classes supporting giant diesel powered walking tanks and hybrid grid and third person action views? I don't think so. It was a great game, but just too durned hard and unforgiving for me to finish. But why do that when its spiritual successor is on the PS3?

So there's Valkyria Chronicles. The graphics are reminiscent of the sketch and watercolor style of the newly remade Final Fantasy Tactics. The setting feels like something in Ace Combat's ancient past, what with the contorted but vaguely familiar continents and country names. The cultural setting feels like World War II, fought with 1920s technology, fought by people out of the Crimean War. And there's a bunch of coed draftees around and old yet somehow most advanced evar tank.

Good times.

Also joined the legion of DS owners, and have been skirmishing through Final Fantasy Tactics A2. It's more of a remake of FFTA than a sequel so far, and it feels much more polished, which is just great for a game that was a polished and less spiky version of the original FFT of old. (Both that and Disgaea on the PSP are more unforgiving and leveling-intensive). So FFTA2 will probably be my DS game of choice for a while... apparently there's a new Valkyrie Profile coming to the DS soon!

Game on.

They Didn't Go There

2008-10-28T23:34:00.000-04:00

Weeeeellll, just saw Transformers. Maybe it was the Chianti doing its job, but I enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than I did Iron Man. Perhaps I am going stupid in my old age?

What can I say about it other than that it's Independence Day by way of The Rock (noble stupid bloodshed), and it just happens to have giant talking robots? That Shia LeBouf is better than all those small town jackasses who died in AVP2 because he got some hyperactive witty banter? That it didn't have any more a political message than that F-22s, Black Ops, and by extension America herself unequivocally kick talking alien robot ass, irregardless of benevolent talking alien robot assistance? That irregardless isn't a real word, and that I like using it anyway? Nor is trashfabulous , and that I will too? Even though I never saw Puff, Puff, Pass?

The thing that kind of depressed me was when I looked at Megan Fox and the hacker chick with a southern hemisphere British Colony accent. (Didn't even care enough to discriminate Aussie vs. Kiwi) (Aussie. IMDB.) I had no idea what their natural hair color was by birth, but it almost certainly wasn't what they had on screen. One more sign that I'm getting old... makes me think of the girls in junior high who only used shampoo.

Anyway, Transformers knew it was a very stupid movie, and reveled in the fact. Iron Man, well, I should just reiterate that RJD was just too good for that movie, and that Terence Howard was, for that matter, and leave it at that. Let's not talk about Gweneth Paltrow and her hair I couldn't even tell if she dyed for her role or not. I will say, though, that there's something wrong with Kirsten Dunst dying her blond hair red and Bryce Dallas Howard dying her red hair blond for Spiderman 3, though I'm not even sure what right now. Chianti.

Off to bed, and then to work. Who's going to join me in a few choruses of "America, F*** Yeah!"?

A Monopoly on Good Intentions

2008-10-28T20:02:00.002-04:00

Whoops, premature posting.

Anyway, saw Iron Man. I saw a lot of things that I know in my mind that I liked, like a superhero who actually kills people, Robert Downey Jr. talkingreallyfastthen saaaying sommmme stuffff sloooowly, F-22s, and Terence Howard playing the Commissioner Gordon character like he did to great effect in The Brave One.

But I was bothered how everybody treated the plot like it was something sly and serious, yet the pieces didn't quite fit together.

So Tony Stark finds his weapons with STARK INDUSTRIES all over them (huh? who does that?) being used to kill babies. So the first thing I thought was, hmm, how did they get those weapons? But old Tony thought, oh noes, I kill babies, so I stop making guns. Then he figured that he alone had the right, let alone duty, to insure that violence is only applied by nice people.

So these guys were Al-Qaeda with serial numbers filed off, right? If I were to start scraping off layers of rewrite paint from the script, like I were refinishing some hundred year old window molding, I wouldn't be suprised to find out that the villains who killed babies with Stark rocket launchers were, in fact, part of the friendly neighborhood tribal police force or something. Now that would have been an interesting twist, actually positioning a moral conundrum along the lines of The Dark Knight.

As it is, though, you have Kojak, Jr. leading the insurgent insurgents, yearning for Stark missiles that are too cool to blow up actual targets on screen. If only they were that simple -- the line about fighting people from the future (the best part of Body of Lies) comes to mind.

And in the grand finale, we see the logic of the pulp universe: there are six people with names in the universe, you are the hero, there is one woman who is totally into you, and there is this guy you know who happens to be an evil version of you. Or he isn't but he says he is anyway, or maybe he just jacks your style.

So that's why I call "If You Go There" on Iron Man. If you decide to make a serious movie, better have your ducks all in a subtext, er, row. On the other hand, it could have merely been that RDJ is simply too damn good for that movie.

Intermission:

Up tonight: to see how I actually react to Transformers. I grew up Go-Bots myself.

Happy Hunting Grounds

2008-10-13T00:50:00.000-04:00

Spent this weekend going through MGS4, just have one last fight to beat and then a whole slew of cutscenes to watch. It shouldn't spoil much to say that it even goes back to Shadow Moses Island for a bit, and they even trot out the best song of the original:

I guess it's hard to recapture the magic of the first game, with layer upon layer of paranoid continuity sitting on top of the narrative framework of the original. All the same, it's familiar territory I'm glad to visit again.

Speaking of, I saw the ersatz trilogy of Starship Troopers movies. I have a love-hate relationship with the original, as it walks all over the source material while having a goofy, campy feel that approximates the balance that Verhoeven only really hit with the original RoboCop.

The first direct to video sequel feels Outer Limits cheap, yet the breadth of the vibes it steals still compels: Alien 3, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and of all things, Paths of Glory. Unlike Alien 3, it really was unable to capture a decent feel. Unfortunately, it was just kind of boring.

The third movie, though, brings back the over the top camp, and perhaps lays it on a little too thick. All the same, it's entertaining and has this bizarre, repugnant charm to it. It doesn't really have anything to say, but falls into the same pleasantly uncomfortable territory of the first movie in that it comes close to believing the propaganda it lampoons. And it keeps the bad guy uniform bonus too.

Off to CA tomorrow. More to follow.

Save the Planet?

2008-09-14T21:57:00.000-04:00

Things have been pretty hectic with the move, but Rasu was in town and we were able to get out and watch a crappy movie... Babylon A.D.!

So apparently this movie was based on a critically acclaimed novel, which would explain why the first half or so was compelling and hyper-Gibsonian in atmosphere. Perhaps they stole a decent script that was faithful to the novel but only got the first thirty pages. At a certain point it just went incredibly off the rails and trashed whatever it was carefully leading up to in favor of a storm of non sequiturs and cliches.

This one's for Rasu: the missing link of popular fantasy is Fritz Lieber's Lankhmar stories. They are located solidly in low fantasy pulp land, straddling the oddities of Lovecraft and the manly swordplay of Conan. And they are rife with details that were lifted wholesale to build the nuts and bolts of D&D. The first anthology, Swords and Deviltry, is a must for any nerd's bookshelf.

The Cameronio

2008-09-12T19:24:00.000-04:00

Persons of the Dialogue:
Socrates
Cameronio, a fan of action movies

The scene — a local video store in the Agora of Athens, across from the local Blockbuster.

CAMERONIO: Greetings, dear Socrates. Might I enquire towards what endeavor you have come to this video store? I should assume that it is the rental of one of these many fine titles for your entertainment tonight.

SOCRATES: Indeed, Cameronio. You have said it.

CAMERONIO: I find that the action movie is the most perfect form of movie which we may rent.

S: Why should you say this?

C: The action movie seeks to entertain with action, for which it is named. For it must be so, as action is the highest form of entertainment. The comedy may also entertain, but has as its subject humiliation and foolishness. The romance may achieve the entertainment of women, and through it the entertainment of men, but it is not entertaining in itself.

S: And what of dramas?

C: They are boring and for wimps.

S: What you say is true, Cameronio.

C: Therefore, the action movie is the most perfect form of movie. On this, even you, O Socrates, cannot disagree, though you are wont to do so.

S: On disagreeing, I can only do so on the point that I should disagree with you. You have spoken on the matter of movies in general, and the matter of action movies specifically, in a matter most true and admirable.

C: Then my heart is full of joy, wise Socrates.

S: Though there is one thing that arouses curiosity in me. For under your arm I see the tape for Aliens.

C: Indeed you do. For this is the greatest of all Alien movies, and therefore the greatest of all science fiction action movies.

S: I was correct to inquire about this, Cameronio, as your words trouble me.

C: Why should they trouble you, Socrates? Do I not speak the truth of Aliens?

S: I must disagree with you on the relative merits of Alien versus Aliens. Yet Alien is great not for being an action movie, but a horror movie. This is different from an action movie, yet also a great thing.

C: Then I beseech you, Socrates, to tell me what it is that does trouble you.

S: I should not say it as my words would surely trouble you.

C: I beg you again, Socrates, to tell me what trouble rests heavy on your mind, so that in speaking it I may know as well.

S: So be it. I shall take from under my arm another tape of a movie that you must surely find superior in every way to Aliens. I show you that movie to be Predator.

C: Your words stun and confuse me, Socrates, for we have already agreed on so much. Surely you must find Aliens, with its space marines and hordes of aliens, to be superior as an action movie.

S: You speak truly of great things in Aliens, yet I must still disagree with you.

C: I find your words rash and of overweening pride. How can you speak them?

S: Let me ask to you a question in return, so I may, through questioning, understand how you are right and I am surely wrong.

C: I will permit you to ask me, as I am confident that the rightness of my thought will persuade you.

S: So be it. I must consider the nature of a truly great action hero. For is an action hero not a badass?

C: Surely you jest, Socrates. A great action hero must be a badass. It is in his very nature. Or her nature, as both Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor are great action heroes.

S: Then we are in agreement. I must ask you, then, if the action hero, as a true badass, does great deeds in the company of other badasses.

C: Surely, Socrates. The badass is a greater badass in the company of other badasses.

S: Then if a badass were in the company of totally whiny losers, would he not be less of a badass?

C: Supernaturally so, Socrates.

S: Thus Arnold Schwarzenneger is truly a greater badass than Sigourney Weaver, for in Predator he performs great deeds of badassery in the company of other badasses such as Jesse Ventura and that crazy Indian dude, whereas Sigourney Weaver must struggle to overcome the likes of Paul Reiser and that total moron Gorman.

C: I do not like the words you speak, yet must agree that they are so.

S: So I must also ask you, is it greater for a badass to overcome a villain who is a badass like him, or to overcome the stupidity of his colleagues?

C: I am ashamed to say that another badass is a superior obstacle for this badass to overcome.

S: Then you must again admit that Arnold is the superior badass in Predator. For the Predator himself is truly a badass in his own right, and in many ways a greater badass than Arnold or his colleagues. His colleagues fall, not because they are wanton fools, but because they face a badass greater than themselves.

C: You speak truly of Predator, yet I do not feel bad about where you must head next.

S: Then I do not need to ask you if the role of stupidity in Aliens is lame, for you will agree. It is the stupidity of Gorman and Paul Reiser that get most of the marines killed. It is the stupidity of the Colonial Marines in the dropship to land in an unsecured area, while i would be wiser to loiter in the upper atmosphere or to return to the Sulaco. And is it not stupidest of all for the Colonial Marines to have a crew on the Sulaco, including a pilot who might fly the second dropship? Is it not folly to have a spare dropship but no spare dropship pilot?

C: Yet I must point out the treachery of Carl Weathers in Predator. Are not his lies to Arnold and his naysaying in the jungle similar to the malfeasance of Gorman and Paul Reiser?

S: Alas no, Cameronio. Carl Weathers has muscles that are large, and he is a badass in his own way for trying to shoot with his left arm after his right arm is blown off by the Predator. Even in treachery he is a badass, and his redemption and death only further improve his badassery to that of Bill Duke.

C: Then I am lost, for I have nothing else to say.

S: Dear Cameronio, you are not lost, for you now have knowledge of your ignorance. Now that you are no longer ignorant of your ignorance, you may appreciate Predator as the superior movie.

C: Surely you speak the truth, Socrates.

S: In fact, may I suggest that we watch it tonight?

C: Alas no, for my wife wishes to see Titanic again tonight.

S: Truly I am sorry, for that movie is not great. There was the one scene where the man falls off the end of the ship and bounces off the propeller, but that is about it.

C: Again you speak truly, Socrates.

As seen on twitter...

2008-09-06T21:16:00.000-04:00

Ambient Awareness

Fake is the New Ironic

2008-09-06T15:28:00.000-04:00

So I'm getting a new job closer to NYC and moving by the end of the month. Exciting times!

So here's Ben Folds talking about how he made an entire fake version of his upcoming album just to screw with filesharers' heads.

Gone Daddy Gone

2008-08-17T22:20:00.001-04:00

Hey, look! Bionic Commando is all back and retooled for the new downloadable gaming marketplace!

This is one of those games that I missed out playing as a kid, and in some ways I should be glad. I might have snapped the cartridge in two, from seeing some of the old playthroughs.

Anyway, it isn't even sad to see the complete slash and burn deforestation and strip mining of Star Wars anymore. Seems that the Clone Wars TV pilot in the theaters is a new low for the craziest old man in Hollywood.

File under "what was I thinking": a bunch of old bad rumors on the runup to The Phantom Menace.

Never forget.

Children, Dogs and Robots

2008-08-02T16:35:00.000-04:00

The other day I thought, hey, me, you should watch T2 on Blu-Ray. So I started, and I got to the point where Sarah Connor was in the psych ward and the guard licked her face and went off. Self, I thought, this is not making me as uncomfortable as I remember it from way back when.

Pause.

Sure enough, the theatrical cut is the only one available on Blu. No wonder it was only fifteen bucks. Shouldn't this be one of those movies liek Blade Runner where the director's cut is the only cut by now? Apparently not. (This also means that I'll have to rewatch T2 in the actual director's cut pretty soon to get a better idea of how important the changes were.)

So I made it through all the way today and it was as exciting as it should be, though I was able to put my finger on some of the things that bothered me about it. And no, time travel wasn't one of them. More later.

For now, though, DUN DUN DUN DA DUN.

Being as it came out in a day before spoilers were really a faux pas, and seeing has how its plot structure has become embedded in the collective consciousness, I can see how Cameron went out of his way to set up the big twist of the movie early on: presumably, Schwarzzeneger was set up to be the villain with Robert Patrick as another soldier from the future, we were supposed to think. I'm not so sure that the Sarah Connor voiceovers throughout were the right choice, but then again I'm not sure if they were in the director's cut either.

So let me say that Terminator worked well because Cameron started with a concept in his mind, and twisted the world just enough to support it. So why do the time machines only send back living things? Well, buddy, if you survive the robot apocalypse, why don't you ask em yourself?

If there's a weak link in the enterprise, it's John Connor. He has pretty much the incomparable burden of knowing from the youngest possible age that he is destined to be the savior of mankind. His initials are J.C. for crying out loud. Yet it seems that his own foreknowledge, that which has all but driven his mother insane, is a hard burden to bear. And seeing him as a generic turn of the decade punk would suggest that maybe he isn't fit to bear it.

It certainly hews to a "great men" interpretation of history. Humanity will die, unless one man is there to lead the "resistance" to victory. Yet Skynet's own creation seems to be a matter of course. Destroy the parts of the original Terminator, kill off the inventor, whatever, and the bad future still comes out. This could be just run of the mill 80s balance of terror luddite paranoia, or it could be Cameron wanting it both ways.

(Side note: finally watched the premiere of the Sarah Connor Chronicles which I downloaded from Live for free a while ago. It's interesting to see them pursue this line of thought, but a little disappointing to see them do it so clumsily. It doesn't help that the new Sarah Connor looks 30 next to a 25 year old looking John Connor. And it's like the production designer didn't even try to make 1999 look like 1999. And the present seems to be getting pretty crowded with time travelers and it's only the first episode. Well, that's science fiction television, I guess.)

Young John Connor didn't seem particularly appealing to me. His assertion that human life is worth saving is always a foregone conclusion, and I never really see enough character growth for me to think, yes, this is the guy who is worth keeping alive.

So that means that the new Terminator movie with Christian Bale is promising, but time travel and (logical if not chronological) prequels always have the tendency to follow Lucasfilm Licensing's Rusty Butter Knife. (Viz. the heuristic that the stupidest explanation is usually true.) All the same, it does seem to be the closest we'll ever get to a Batman vs Terminator movie.

Batman Rex, Third Time

2008-07-20T20:33:00.001-04:00

Upon watching Batman Begins the other day, I found several nits to pick: the relative silliness (microwaves and monorails) of the final third and the relative CGI artificiality of the sky shots of Gotham's Narrows area.

TDK addresses these shortcomings and then some. It was an ode to Chicago (with serial numbers filed off) the same way that Collateral made LA look like a place worth visiting. And it remained brutally grounded to the last shot.

I shouldn't really say much else other than that it was pretty much perfect. That's No Country for Old Men perfect, not Predator 2 perfect.

Rasu: Consult this site at once. Then look at a few Alamo Drafthouse posters.

UPDATE:

One other think that bothered me about Batman Begins was that Katie Holmes felt kind of off key, casting wise. Maggie Gyllenhaal was spot-on, even though she played remarkably close to Holmes' characterization. It's all about delivery.

Shwoops

2008-07-20T02:26:00.002-04:00

Looks like Part 4 of NDO never got published. Apologies.

Linkification:

http://spoilerwarning.blogspot.com/2008/03/neon-danger-orange-part-4.html

Metal Fear Solid

2008-07-20T00:50:00.000-04:00

In preparation for The Dark Knight I picked up the new SE Blu of Batman Begins. It's about as I remember it, as far as being pitch perfect yet getting a little silly in the third act. The CGI for Gotham City seemed a little fake, though.

Saw the IMAX Prologue to TDK and it's pretty much sold me on the whole thing. Even if the rest of it is pretty bad (which I almost certainly know it isn't) I will have those six minutes of perfection to treasure and keep watching over and over.

Having gotten the high expectations of The Orange Box, Bioshock, and even Halo 3 out of my system, I was able to power through the remainder of F.E.A.R. this week. It's a great exercise in atmosphere even if the rest of the package is kind of dated by modern FPS standards. It's definitely whetted my appetite for Project Origin.

And I still need to pick up MGS4.

The iPhone 3G is pretty solid, even though the much-ballyhooed 2.0 software is still flaky. The location based software and GPS may be positive talking points, but I'm just glad to have sixteen gigs.

Neon Danger Orange, Part 6

2008-07-20T00:00:00.002-04:00

Reese sat on the steps again. She had lost all track of time. She had lost count of how many cigarettes she had. She pulled out the pack of Wormleightons and flipped it open, and jiggled it so she could count the remaining cigarettes and try to work back to when she had stepped out.

Rachael sat down beside her. Reese held out the pack, but Rachael waved it away.

"Reese. About Henry, did you notice... I mean, uh, Henry and I, did it seem..." she trailed off, expectantly.

Reese searched Rachael's eyes, and then jerked away.

"Henry was good to have," Reese said slowly. "But, he's, uh."

Rachael leaned forward slightly. "Out of his depths. I'm sure he would have been a liability pretty soon."

Reese shrugged and stared out. Rachael continued haltingly.

"He just doesn't get it. He's not an operator. It's like his brain is ten years younger than his body."

Reese glanced back and drew breath as if to say something, but didn't. Rachael straightened up and her serene smile returned.

"Men are so stupid," Rachael sighed, still smiling.

Reese narrowed her eyes. "People are stupid," she said, and turned back towards the horizon.

Rachael's face twisted into a frown.

"Sometimes I envy you, Reese. You don't really need anyone, do you? You're like some kind of machine, just performing your function. Clicking along until you break."

Reese's face flushed with anger and her body tensed. They stared at each other for a minute.

A large, unmarked delivery truck screeched to a halt in front of the house. A middle-aged Asian man jumped out of the passenger side door and ran up to them.

"Reese Bruner?" She recognized his voice immediately. "Charlie Shaw." He held out his hand, and she shook it reluctantly. His grip was tight. "I believe we've worked together in the past."

"I remember. I didn't expect to see you." She squeezed back as tightly as she could.

"Neither did I. But we've got a situation and we're going to scratch together a force around your team." He let go of her hand and slumped slightly. "This time I think I'm in the same boat as you. Anyway, we have to get moving right now."

Gail had come out, leading Melissa by the hand.

"We're going now?"

"Yeah, kid, we need to get going right now."

"What am I supposed to do with my daughter?"

Shaw looked around and sighed. He pulled out his c-phone and clipped on the earpiece.

"Hi, honey." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, but I have to work late again. No, I won't. Speaking of... No. No. Just listen. One of the new girls, well, we're in a hurry, and her daughter. Yeah. Exactly. Yes, yes it will. Just meet us at the Rutherford-Seacacus toll plaza. I'll make sure they let you in. Thanks. Love you too. Bye."

"Moriarty. My wife will take care of your kid. Now will you get in the..." He looked around. "Where's Hauri?"

"In a taxi, coming from Goldwater," snapped Reese. "No c-phone, no nothing. If it's so urgent, we should ditch her."

"Goddamnit. Get in the van and get suited up. We're going to have to wait." He glared at Reese. "Don't ask."

"Whatever you say, boss."

The World Dick Made

2008-06-09T00:31:00.002-04:00

Been powering through Philip K Dick's novels: they are fast reads, brimming with ideas, and seem to serve as wayposts in the development of SF plot tropes. Here's what I've read so far:

Solar Lottery: Even Dick said that he was setting out to write a Van Vogt novel with this one, and the similarities to The World of Null-A are unmistakable, along with a teep corps cribbed from Bester. More a curio than a touchstone, it's still a solid story. Too bad that the android assassin Keith Pellig seems to be an anomaly. Definitely the sort of thing that would profit by a Ridley Scott adaptation.

The World Jones Made: totalitarianism and precogs. Also the only example I could think of with a fascist libertarian state in it, viz. you can do and say what you want, but if you impinge on the freedom of others you get sent to the gulag. And for all that, the system still doesn't work.

The Man Who Japed: the flip side of TWJM, it's a morally straightlaced Communist state. The first time he let his notable sense of humor loose, one of the first things he does is to cook up a simulated reality conspiracy as a throwaway plot point.

Eye in the Sky: one the most interesting of his early novels, as he lets his paranoia and bizarre religiosity loose. High point was two characters riding an umbrella up through the heavenly firmament to hover before the face of God: the titular giant eye. And he was just getting started.

Time Out of Joint: two of my favorite things come together: simulated reality conspiracy and men in hats. Coming in for the 9th inning are precogs and a five page version of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress... preceding it by nine years!

Dr. Futurity: time travel self-recursion paradoxes and the attempted assassination of Sir Francis Drake. Not sure if there was a historical time travel assassination paradox story before this, but still, time travel. The most interesting part of the story, namely a society where death is good and doctors are criminals, is dropped by the wayside. Alas.

Out of sequence is The Cosmic Puppets, being as they aren't stocked in bookstores. Up next is Vulcan's Hammer. Stay tuned!

The Unauthorized Autobiography of Timothy Archer

2008-06-08T18:29:00.003-04:00

I can't sleep. Unless I'm dead tired, I don't fall asleep until three or four in the morning. So what else do I do but read a PKD novel a night?

Here are all the novels in order of publication. I had to skip The Cosmic Puppets for reason of availability... moving on to Time Out of Joint, it's a clear shot all the way to Dr. Bloodmoney through my library.

I'll write up my impressions of Solar Lottery, The World Jones Made, The Man Who Japed, and Eye in the Sky shortly. Suffice it to say that I think he pretty much invented simulated reality about forty years before they came up with a term for it.

In the meantime, here's a wonderful short that I might have linked to, before. It's a biographical pseudoshort (or pseudobiographical short?) about PKD, written by his new heir apparent, Jonathan Lethem. I have all of Lethem's novels but still haven't even reread Gun With Occasional Music yet. Shame on me.

Sequels Ruin Everything: Part 2

2008-05-30T00:09:00.001-04:00

Hey, look: Indiana Jones is a pinko commie bastard.

The Facebook Conspiracy

2008-05-27T23:24:00.003-04:00

Social networking is one of those things that are supposed to be the triumph of "Web 2.0". You know, meeting total strangers through tenuous degrees of separation so that we can assemble new communities of shared interest that would have been impossible in a pre-post-geographic society. It's certainly appealing, with the availability heuristic making us think that it will all work out perfectly and we will link up like some godawful Meg Ryan romcom.

On the other hand, there's the fact that most of my friends (mutual friends through me) have little to nothing in common and will at least interact with each other anywhere between diffident amiability and smilingly plotting to kill each other. Or that could be the misleading vividness talking.

Dulce et decorum est, pro patria yadda yadda

2008-05-23T23:56:00.002-04:00

Spielberg with a camera is like a four year old with a shotgun. He can be cute in a deranged sort of way, but in the end is wielding a power that he doesn't really understand, and can very easily break a lot of things. His latest victim of his father issues is none other than good old Indy, the way reviewers are talking, in that the good movie of old (Raiders) that he already stomped all over twice before (Temple of Doom and Last Crusade were both pretty bad, let's be honest) has been dragged out and beaten again, resulting in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Who Even Cares Anymore.

Spielberg, Spielberg. The last movie of his that came out that I actually remember enjoying, or even taking seriously, would be Saving Private Ryan. It was a freight train of unflinching combat dressed up with meet-cute object lesson interludes and a heaping double portion of sentimental bullshit, parceled out in pained, earnest reaction shots.

Flags of Our Fathers takes the core conceit of SPR, the tension in war between propaganda and bloodshed, strips it down to the bone, and rebuilds it around the iconic picture of the flag-raising on Iwo Jima. So instead of making one mother in the Midwest feel slightly less sad by rescuing at least one son at a cost, it's all about cashing in on the photo to sell war bonds by turning soldiers into PR spectacles. In one scene they decry this, to which the treasury flack running the show gives them a verbal backhand insisting that war bonds are essential to finishing the war and protecting lives on the front. If there's a flaw to this movie, it's that the actual combat has been dialed back. Honor is scarce, and war is a time of doing unpleasant things in service of the homeland.

On the flipside, Letters from Iwo Jima ended on much less of a downer, despite the fact that everybody dies. At least on this side, facing a nominally morally superior enemy, with incompetent and bloodthirsty superiors, there's a way to find honor.

Cheese is the New Red Meat

2008-05-08T08:25:00.002-04:00

For some reason this struck me as being at least 43% cooler than Iron Man could possibly be. Perhaps I'm getting old.

Superballad

2008-05-02T23:37:00.002-04:00

Judd Apatow seems to be the comedic voice of this decade, as much as Adam Sandler was for the Nineties (Happy Gilmore!) and Harold Ramis was for the Eighties. Other film critics have pointed out the paradox that he's made hay by assembling raunchy comedies that advocate monogamy and the acceptance of adult responsibility.

Walk Hard was the exception to this trend, in that it was an almost pitch-perfect sendup of the music biopic. If nothing else, it made me feel serious guilt for enjoying Walk the Line as much as I did.

But Superbad observed the formula to the letter: awkward outsiders lacking worldly experience, a string of comedic hijinks, and a resolution where childish things are put away.

If anything, these schubs' journey from boyish friendship to adulthood and a slingshot trajectory towards married domicility is fairly unique in that the conflict is largely nonexistent outside of their own neurotic projections. Sure, there's a bully, but he has maybe twenty seconds of screen time and has little effect other than to be a catalyst to the unraveling teenage buddy 'marriage' of the starring duo. Parents are almost totally absent, the cops are alternatingly goofily oblivious and "we were kids once too" bemused, and for that matter the romantic resolutions are foregone conclusions to all except the main players.

That's the thing with the romance element -- the girls are, like the woman in Knocked up, largely cyphers who exist as "mensch fodder" for the dorks that hold the screenwriters' eyes. (Or pens?) Why should a girl hold a wild party at her parents' house even though she doesn't even drink? Could it be a nagging sense of social inferiority, or even an elaborate scheme to win the fat schulb's heart? Why isn't the nice girl who gets drunk and turns into a puking slut too embarrassed to ever show her face before her skinny nice-guy wimp of a love interest? Who cares?

The flip side of the equation, which made parts of the movie un-maddening, was McLovin -- a Millhouse to the T who stumbles his way into the adult world wiht nothing more than a fake ID -- he starts as a loser but ends up smoking and drinking at a bar with two cops before the party has even started. Adults aren't adult, it's just an extension of the teen comedy where you actually have to hold down a job and there's no mythical land of college waiting around the corner. It's all the same stupid drama, and it's just as easy and pointless to get alcohol and tail.

Despite its flaws, it was still above the unmitigated crap like 10 Things I Hate About You.

Sincerity Is the New Sincerity

2008-05-02T23:31:00.002-04:00

Hey, look!

Some kids from a school of rock are doing some yacht rocking of their own:

(Possibly the only Steely Dan song not from an album.)

They don't quite hit their stride, but they've got some heart, and a dude with mad skills. Seems to come together more here:

(I think their sound guy needed to tweak the mixer on both of em. Then again, the production sucked on Aladdin Sane too.)

And then there's these guys:

Everything You Know About Gundam is Wrong

2008-04-27T03:44:00.000-04:00

Irony is the New Irony

2008-04-26T22:10:00.002-04:00

It's official: Seagal is the new Norris.

It's only a matter of time before people start saying that Olivier Gruner is the best actor in the history of film.

Tag Heute

2008-04-20T18:12:00.002-04:00

...or the day before yesterday.

So I'll do what I did before and answer the questions. Being as I'm pretty sure this is a no-backsies deal, and neither of my other readers are very big on updating their blog, I'll tag them on the honors system and leave it at that.

So here it goes:

The rules are:
1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
2. Each player answers the questions about himself.
3. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

(See above.)

What I was doing 10 years ago:

Studying engineering in college. (The first one.)

Five things on my To-Do List

Watch Gone Baby Gone (I've only had it for like a month or two.)
Do some laundry.
Make my favorite kind of sandwich for dinner.
Try and get a chapter or two of Flare Nitrate Red done.
Get my sleep schedule fixed.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:

Retire.
Get a mountain hunting/fishing lodge and a brownstone somewhere in NYC.
Read all the books I own, and then go and get all the books I want to read and read those too.
Invest in a company I would like to work for, and then do some work for them.
Take my time figuring out what to do with the rest of the money.

Three of my bad habits:

Grocery shopping on an empty stomach.
Not finishing things I start

Five places I've lived:

Syracuse, NY
Glen Cove, NY
Front Royal, VA
Jacksonville, FL
Westerly, RI

Five jobs I've had:

Shipping clerk
Beverage company office temp
Department store early morning stocker
Summer school teacher
Engineering cadet

Five books I've recently ~~read~~ started

Persepolis
Bagombo Snuff Box
Easy Riders, Raging Bulls
Not for Tourists Guide to Brooklyn
The Children of Hurin

The five I tagged:

Honestly, I don't have five people with blogs period, let alone no backsies ones. You two know who you are. Feel guilty.

I was tagged by Papabear.

Take Your Cultural Festival and Shove It

2008-04-15T23:10:00.003-04:00

Thanks go out to featherframe for the link to "Pale Cocoon". (Everyone check the comments for the last post.) I can't really give it justice at this point, but what I can do is talk about the other series that I found out about via featherframe's LJ: Sayonara Zetsubo Sensei.

When it started out, it felt like it had the potential to be Azumanga Daioh by means of Seijun Suzuki. Control group: trailer for the maddeningly offbeat but technically flawless Pistol Opera, a psychadelic remake of Suzuki's own watershed Branded to Kill:

(And yes, as a fan of In the Mood For Love, I'm obliged to watch his Yumeji just for the theme alone.)

Instead, it slid around the scale like crazy, never quite getting to regular harem comedy lows. It seems to mostly avoid the failing of Love Hina, namely, in doing battle with harem comedies, beware lest you become one. It's the abyss staring back. What kept my interest was an obsessive retro design ethos and a typographical fetish that I've not really seen since Evangelion: Death. Perhaps it was some of GAINAX rubbing off on production company Shaft's work after their erstwhile partnerships. (Mahoromatic and its lookalikes)

When it's good, it's great in an utterly jaundiced way, one of the high points being the cultural festival being executed by the homeroom class to the bare minimum standards out of the anachronistic young teacher's dislike for the foibles of modern Japan. Did I mention that he's flamboyantly suicidal?

Nonetheless, it's decent enough to keep me watching and not too guilty in its pleasures. I'll bet it's like other anime farces in that it's enjoyable enough to watch through all the episodes once, but leaves me feeling tired and more than a little shameful upon revisiting it.

Well, they did one of the second season closing animations all like Mike Mignola, which buys it a lot of slack in my book. Enjoy:

Makoto Shinkai has some competition

2008-04-13T21:16:00.004-04:00

So Papabear pointed out "Time of Eve" to me, a new movie apparently animated by one guy or a small production group in the vein of Voices of a Distant Star. Here's his first

Here's his first short:

Rick and Roll

2008-04-13T17:36:00.001-04:00

This does more harm to the fabric of reality than three Family Guy Star Wars episodes put together:

That one was for you, Parker Barnes.

There Will Be Milkshakes

2008-04-12T20:48:00.005-04:00

Hey, look! Frank Miller is doing a Will Eisner classic as a movie. Who's Will Eisner? He's the guy who created classic comics that are too cool for the likes of me to read. You know, like Eisner Awards.

So for today, I tried, unsuccessfully, to sate my curiosity about that new Pike Place Roast. Without having had it, and going by the description of "mild", I'd say they're trying to migrate from crude oil dark drip coffee to something approximating Dunkin Donuts. Dunkin Donuts annoys me these days, as a simple breakfast sandwich and coffee can cost as much as a McD's dinner. Serves me right for not brewing at home, alas.

More importantly, though, I watched There Will Be Blood.

What is there to say about this movie other than it is deliberately paced, chock full of marvelous performances, worth it for the payoff of the catchphrase, and definitely a keeper? Not much other than that it was unpredictable on the first view as the main character himself.

Japanimaction Isn't a Real Word, Freaks and Geats

2008-04-11T21:59:00.003-04:00

I decided to watch a crappy movie this week, so I got Ultraviolet from Netflix. And it didn't disappoint, because it was horrible. The opening sequence was pretty good in an awful, pretentious way -- the faux comic book covers were razor sharp in HD. The movie itself was a mishmash of noticably cheap CGI, poorly drawn and wildly changing characters, and action sequences that were embarrassing to watch from the sheer incompetence of their execution. Whatever alchemy made Equilibrium an awesome movie was missing; in fact, it made me glad that I didn't have to stare at Christian Bale's bare midriff, something I'd never even thought of until I saw Ultraviolet. It's a verbose treatise on how not to make genre film.

For some reason it reminded me of Sunshine, another utterly pretentious and bad movie in entirely different ways.

As for Beowulf, on regular old standard definition, tonight:

Its revisionist take on the titular Geat as a rather boastful, weak-willed braggart just rubbed me the wrong way. I still haven't found the time to finish the source epic, let alone to build up the sort of Tolkeinesque obsession to sing its praises, but I feel like drawing a line and sticking by the old chestnut. Its new incarnation feels like a sort of DaVinci Code like rewrite, not the least for its bizarro-world assertion that the Christianization of the Danes brought decadence, imperialism, and slavery to an otherwise peaceful nation of carousers and friendly brawlers. Most of the time its hyper-action-moviezation of the source material was incongrous, like when a spear pointed in the general direction became a last-minute-halted-charge with spear at about 3/4" inches from face, but it occasionally gelled like a dizzying dragon ride fight sequence in the third act.

The first act was all right, the second act kind of dragged as Angelina Jolie vamped about in her cave, and the third act was action packed. I thought it kind of failed at the end, though, because Grendel's Mother lived.

That's right.

Beowulf's epic battle was a sham; he actually impregnated the demon off screen, and she gave birth to the dragon of the third act. As a deconstruction it kind of worked, but it cut down the sweep and simplicity of the original story to a D&D like abstract fantasy. Alas.

I've got the craptacular 90's version that's all kung-fu post-apocalyptic in my Netflix queue. Like Ultraviolet, I already know what to expect, and heck, I might even enjoy it more.

You know how I know anime is dead?

2008-04-07T23:07:00.002-04:00

They've decided to sit back and remake our crappy action movies now:

The man with the power of who?

2008-04-07T22:53:00.002-04:00

This is why I didn't put Jedi on my census form:

For some reason I'm reminded of Bort:

Queue Runner

2008-04-06T21:46:00.002-04:00

Tonight was spent shaking down the 1080p performance of both a friend's new 42" LCD and also my PS3. The double feature was:

The King of New York: So much more than just New Jack Scarface, and yet not that much more. Which is fine, because I liked Scarface. However, the main selling point was its reversal of vigilante tropes: killing scumbags who deserve to die seems to sit better with a drug lord with philanthropic aspirations than a hotheaded band of rogue cops. Can someone be a drug lord and yet, somehow, not a scumbag? Seemingly, War on Drugs cynicism doesn't go out of date.

Casino Royale: Once again, I saw how this is different than all other Bond movies and somehow better. Having seen District B13 now, I have more respect for the insane parkour moves of the renegade bomber in the first proper action sequence of the film. Hopefully the franchise can keep its lease on life. And perhaps also the girl from Hitman.

Which leads to my review of my Netflix queue for the past six months or so since I canceled cable since there is nothing, ever, on TV:

The Hunter: Made of bits and pieces of older, better Steve McQueen movies. Sure, it's funny that McQueen plays a bounty hunter who's a bad driver, but its it funny in a funny kind of way, or is it funny in McQueen turning to DeNiro-esque self-parody? I had seen The Getaway previously, and between that and Bullitt he would have a lot to live up to.

Hitman: a movie so bad it is exquisitely bad. It has all-right fight sequences and the sort of idiotic logic written by someone who feels like they are being clever. And they ripped off Jin-Roh for the enemy armor. Which is kind of cool in a not really sort of way.

The Brave One: pretty much Death Wish but with a NYC that isn't really all that bad and more NPR. I liked it more than I should have, especially Terrence Howard's performance as a dectective that felt good and yet Dark City odd at the same time.

The Getaway: Steve McQueen is too cool to make mistakes.

Primer: silly and obtuse, as if David Mamet wrote for Dilbert. Enjoyable, mostly.

Vanishing Point: Good car chase sequences; existensial self-immolating hippie who fights the man narrative structure, not so much. Just watch Death Proof.

Curse of the Golden Flower: It's silly how it is a serious palace intrigue movie most of the time but erupts into wuxia absurdity with everyone knowing stunt moves. Brother Fat is so good I end up rooting for the stiff authoritarian like I always do.

We Own The Night: It's like a wannabe Departed in Brooklyn, but turns into a straight cop movie two thirds of the way through. Time better spent watching Narc. Or The Departed.

Sunshine: I hate hate hate this movie. If you're going to put on pretenses of 2001, you better have your science down cold. Look for a post soon on what I would do as a mission director to nuke the sun IN REAL LIFE.

Supernova: Pretty much every cliche from shitty survival horror in space movies. Not at all redeemed by the fact that it was supposed to be a space search and rescue ship for a change. I couldn't even finish it. Seriously, Hollywood, if you spent fifteen minutes with a janitor who works at NASA and called him the technical advisor you'd have a better movie.

Hey, look! Wil Wheaton reviews the episode that ruined TNG for me for life!

MVP Intermission: LuM-160 "Pursuit Special"

2008-04-03T21:59:00.003-04:00

LuM-160 "Pursuit Special

Vehicle Type: Wing-in-Ground Effect Light Amphibious Assault Transport Vessel

Manufacturers: Lun-Sevastopol Shipyards, Mil Design Bureau, Food Equipment Corporation Defense Systems

Owner/Operator: Northeast Corporate Autonomous Zone Transit Consortium Highway Patrol

History:

Design on the LuM-160 was begun in the early Seventies as a third-generation GEM for the KGB Border Guards as an amphibious rapid-response transport for next-generation light warsuits.

Despite recent advances in both GEM and warsuit technology, the limitations of current warsuit technology and avionics made the LuM-160 infeasible. A limited run of 24 units was produced, deployed with conventional infantry, but at least half of this run were destroyed in accidents. The remaining units were mothballed.

With the economic reforms of the mid-Eighties in response to the establishment of the Corporate Autonomous Zones in the United States, these became among the first to be sold to interested corporate parties, in this case FEC's Defense Systems division. It was hoped that advances in turboprop engines and avionics could overcome the problems with the platforms and allow the airframe design to reach its full potential.

The first generation upgrade package, designated as the MiL-160FEC, saw limited effectiveness with the US Federal Highway Carbiners in a rapid response role. However, tragedy struck again when one unit lost control and crashed in a residential neighborhood, killing twenty-three, and the platform was permanently grounded.

The early Nineties saw the rise of tactical armor, giving the idea of a light transport for bipedal armor a new lease on life. FEC started from the ground up with the MiL-160 airframe, adding current-generation push-pull turboprop engines and the latest in avionics to produce the MiL-160TR tactical response variant. Seeing a convergence of interests with the Transit Consortium's need to patrol the Interzone while circumventing the intervention of the FAA in non-exclusive airspace between various Autonomous Zones, FEC worked hand-in-glove with the TCHP to rapidly work through several upgrade packages to meet the evolving role of the platform in TCHP operations.

Design:

The LuM-160 Pursuit Special is a twin-engine, quadruple-prop ground effect machine, designated as a light tactical transport sled because of an open platform aft of the cockpit in lieu of enclosed fuselage. Its wings are reverse-delta, with dihedral downward winglets to enhance ground effect. Each engine is mounted on the characteristic large tailplane.

The airframe is constructed primarily from titanium, though later variants have replaced up to 30% of the fuselage and 70% of wings and tailplane with carbon fiber for further weight reduction and performance gains.

Range is 750 miles at full capacity and cruising speed of 120 mph. At full power range is reduced to 250 miles, even with the addition of drop tanks. Full speed is approximately 250 mph with the addition of a jettisonable cover for the cargo platform.

Retractible landing gear are stored in each winglet and in the aft to facilitate highway landing. Highway takeoffs are rare and achieved with disposable rocket boosters. Normal takeoff is via GEM launch canals with twin electromagnetic catapaults.

Maximum cargo weight is 2500 lbs.

Normal deployment is with a two man team of tactical armor. Hardpoints on the cargo platform allow the armor to take power from the sled's generator and to also link into the plane's tactical data bus. Sleds are normally deployed in pairs.

Current Disposition:

The Mil-160 Pursuit Special is operated by three TCHP units based in Mystic, Mass-Conn Region, Rutherford-Seacacus York-Jersey Region, and Colonial Heights, Carolinas Region. Each unit has two Pursuit Specials. These units are kept on standby, even though their use is infrequent due to interference with the normal operation of the Interzone. No accidents have been observed to date.

* Information subject to change.

Neon Danger Orange, Part 5

2008-03-26T01:01:00.003-04:00

“Are you done with your little motivation speech?” Reese glowered at Rachael.

“By all means, go on.” Rachael smiled. “I’ll let you get back to your little game. You really have no clue what you’ve gotten into, do you? Shuffle your little papers around. They did that little game with you to, didn’t they? Play around with the papers, let you dangle? You learned your first little mind game this weekend, and you’ve got to show it off.”

“They had a heartstopper, Rachael.” For the first time all day, Reese looked tired. “They used it on me just to make a point. Like fucking Simon Says or something. You’ve read the news posts about the new neurostatic sedatives, right? They must have used one on me, because I’ve got hours of my life just... missing. They told me all about it.” Rachael’s smile faded away. “So they hauled me in front of somebody, someone high up in AG, though they never actually said that. One of these guys so high up he might not even have a title. Or need one.”

“So they didn’t torture and kill you. What did they want?” Gail asked, with a slight quaver in her voice.

“Honestly?” Reese spat out the words bitterly. “The head guy wanted me to atone for those two security guards you... the guards that got killed that night.”
Rachael narrowed her eyes and peered at Reese. She pursed her lips and took a deep breath as if to speak, but the moment passed and she sat back in her chair.

“So... what did they want? Did they make you sign more cards? For all the other people you got killed?” Gail snapped back, resentfully.

“Actually, I’m supposed to go to a funeral this Saturday. And meet the widow, and visit the other one’s mother in the nursing home.” Reese saiid softly. “That’s my first job duty. My second one is explicitly to not kill either one of you.” Gail was visibly confused. “My third is to do exactly what they tell me. If I don’t they kill me.”

“So it’s like they let you live because it amused them?”

“I don’t know.” Reese grabbed the beer can in front of Rachael and tipped it over to sense how much was in it. Rachael spread her hands dismissively. Reese pulled next to herself on the table, lit a cigarette, and tapped the first bit of ash into it. “I’ll tell you everything they had me do so far.” Of the four groups of manila folders, she grabbed the farthest two. She handed a single folder to each one, and rummaged through the pile of papers on the floor to pick up her own contract.

“The last thing they did before they knocked me out the old fashioned way on Friday was to have me sign an employment contract. AG Security Department, Counterintelligence Division, Special Response Team One. I’m team leader. Gail, you’re comms. Rachael, you’re scout. Might as well go ahead and sign them.” She placed the pen on the table and pushed it over to Rachael.

“I would have done it the same way,” murmured Rachael.

“We report to Rick Carless, he’s Manager of Counterintelligence Special Response. Or at least we did, he’s probably dead now.”

“I was there for that,” Rachael replied evenly. “I also met Tommy Cohen, the Team B leader. Who knows where he went.”

“So who is Carless’s boss?” asked Gail, flipping through the contract.

“I don’t know. I never got a name. The only other person I know with Counterintelligence is that Johnathan guy, our Control guy–” Reese grunted dismissively.

“Bet he’s dead or gone,” Rachael interjected.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just try calling him. I’ve got a hunch.”

Reese considered that for a moment. She pulled out her c-phone and keyed in the first speed dial. The speaker chirped out several long rings.

“Logistics,” crackled a gruff voice on the other side.

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” Reese ventured.

“Who is this?”

“Reese Bruner, SRT One.”

“Just a moment.” The tap of keys rang out in the silent kitchen. “He isn’t available.”

“When will he be available?”

More taps. “I don’t have access to that information.” Taps. “Your team is on standby now. You’ll be notifiied when you go active again.”

“Look. I’m trying to get a hold of my boss. I have to report back to him.”

“Who is your boss?”

“Rick Carless.”

“Just a moment.” Taps. “I don’t have access to his reach number or his itinerary.”

“Then what about his boss?”

“I can’t give that information over the phone.” Pause. “Who did you say you were with?”

“SRT One. I’m team leader.”

Taps. “Your team is on standby. You’ll be notified when you go active.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“Goodbye.”

Reese clicked off the c-phone.

“I love being right,” Rachael gloated. “We’ve just been brought into AG officially. Now we’re lost in the bureaucracy. The entire company know’s were AG now, but the only people who know how or why we’re AG are us. And your friends.”

“What good does that do them?” asked Gail, skeptically. Rachael sighed in exasperation.

“It’s ideal for them. They have something in mind for us, we go along our little groove, and we have the full resources of the company to help us along. We try and get out of the groove and there are two million employees, ninety thousand pages of operating procedures, and a corporate database ready to knock us back into the groove without even thinking about wondering why.”

“So you’ve dealt with being in this position before, then,” Gail responded huffily.

“Oh, no. We never attracted enough attention to get that setup. We always worked for managers and GMs. We got paid with mmisappropriated discretionary funds and forged expense reports. Red Hook? We show up as table rentals for somebody’s departmental Christmas party.” She paused to sign thhe last page of the form. “This deal is for people who are dead but just don’t know it yet.”

Reese and Gail looked at each other and stared at Rachael. Rachael neatly arranged her contract and put it back in its folder. She looked up, glanced back and forth between them, and sighed.

“Look. In this business, you get caught once, you’re done. You’re compromised. You can’t be trusted, you lose your value. Reese, you got captured. Who knows what they did to you, or what happened during those missing hours.”
Intermittent psychotic episodes for up to a month, thought Reese.
Rachael stared down at the pack of cigarettes on the table. She took one out and lit it. She took a deep drag and let it out, her hand quivering.

“Anyway,” Rachael continued, “they, whoever they are, know that you’re unreliable. However good you are, they caught you, and they know that somebody else could do the same thing. The same goes for all of us.”

“How do you know all this?” snarled Reese.

“I’ve.... seen things.” She stared at the vortices of smoke spiraling up from her cigarette. “But don’t take my word for it.” She looked up with a pained smile. “You caught me, after all.”

Reese started, as if to lash out at Rachael, but checked herself immediately.

Gail walked over to a small television set sitting on a pile of direct mail circulars on the kitchen counter and keyed it on. The news was on. It played through a long rotation of commercials, and the newscaster came on. It was a cheerful woman reading through the day’s violence and mayhem.

Reese chain-smoked through several cigarettes. She looked over and saw that Rachael was still toying with the filter from her first one. Reese held out the open pack and jiggled it, but Rachael waved her off. Gail paced back and forth, going through the remaining cheap beer in the fridge. When the beer was gone, she started drinking Fresca.

“–related news, four men were gunned down in their truck on the OR378 Rapidway this afternoon. As you can see, the truck appears to be damaged by shotgun blasts. Sources in the Transit Consortium’s Highway Patrol Department, on condition of anonymity, have informed us that the four men in the truck were executed with high power small arms. The truck is registered with Spectratex. Public Relations at Spectratex are not available for a statement at this time.

“Now here’s Ted with the weather.”

“Hey, everybody, I’m here live at the Verazanno Narrows Seawall! The Maritime Partnership is just now completing preparations for Pre-Season Hurricane Eleanor. With me I have Partnership civil engineer–”

Gail turned the television off.

They all looked at the pile of folders on the table.

Gail slowly turned away, taking a sip of Fresca. Rachael grabbed another cigarette and lit it.

The front door burst open.

“Mommy!” yelled Melissa, and Gail was down the hall and down on her knees hugging her.
Henry shifted between his feet at the door, holding a pair of large shopping bags and Rachael’s card between his thumb and index finger, sandwiched between some folded bills. He raised himself on tiptoes and looked down the hall to the kitchen, and made eye contact with Rachael. She was still for a moment and quickly shoved her cigarette into a beer can. Henry’s face wavered between annoyance and relief.

Cigarette drooping from her lips, Reese got up and walked slowly down the hall. Melissa gesticulated excitedly, pointing to her new clothes. She had a black jumpsuit that said SPEC OPS down the sleeves and legs. Gail looked up and scowled at Reese, and led Melissa into the long, narrow living room. She slid the tracked wooden partition closed behind her. Henry had deposited the two shopping bags on the floor. Rachael’s credit card and change were sitting on top of a white angora sweater that had been draped over one bag. Rachael and Henry were walking down the stairs off the front porch. Reese nudged the door open and listened and watched.

“–really, you shouldn’t have,” she fussed.

“But I did. Let’s just call it an early birthday present, OK? Besides, you don’t have any clothes. Do you need a ride–”

“No. I’m fine. I’ve got a lot of work here. Just don’t worry about it, OK?”

At that point she wasn’t able to make the words out as they came to his car on the curb. They continued to talk for a while, first in sharp gestures and then moving to gentler waves and the occasional play-hit. Then Rachael slumped and convulsed. Henry reached out to put an arm around her shoulder, but she recoiled back. He pulled back his hand as if he had touched a flame.

They talked for a little while longer, but kept their distance. Finally he nodded jerkily, got into his car, and drove off.

Rachael stood out on the sidewalk, motionless. Finally she turned around and deliberately walked back to the front door.

Reese hurriedly stepped back, knocking the long ash of her cigarette on the floor. She balled up the cold butt in her fist and put her hands behind her back, trying to lean against the wall.

Rachael burst in and stared down Reese. Rachael’s eyes were red and puffy, and her face was flushed. Reese looked away uncomfortably, and Rachael stalked off to the bathroom.

Reese jumped when her c-phone chirped. She ran back to the table, yanked out the ear wire, clipped it to her ear, and keyed it on.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was a woman’s. Her accent was vaguely French, but Reese couldn’t place it.

“Yeah.”

“Miz Bruner?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Martina Hauri. I was expecting you to send someone to pick me up from the airport, yes?”

Reese sat down at the table and grabbed a folder. She flipped it open and scanned through the papers and photos quickly.

“Hello?” Martina said.

“Martina. Yes. You’ll have to take a cab.”

“I did not anticipate this,” Martina replied, her tone sullen. “I will take a cab. What is the address?”

“4482 Terracotta Drive. Amboy-Reciprocity. They’ll know how to get here.”

“Very well then.”

Reese looked down at the picture. It was a scan of a Swiss military ID, dated three years ago. It was a girl no more than twenty-two, with dark brown eyes over prominent cheekbones. Her chestnut brown hair was tied into a tight bun. She already knew what the name would be; she only had to check the rank.

I should be able to handle a corporal, I think.

“Welcome to the team.”

Neon Danger Orange, Part 4

2008-03-24T23:16:00.002-04:00

“She’s gone off the deep end. She’s crazy. She’s probably going to act out some crazy revenge and kill all of us.” Gail was gesticulating violently as she spoke to Rachael. Reese stood in the dark of the hall, watching silently. She saw a flick of violet – Rachael had spotted her and her frown deepened slightly. “What do you think, Rachael?”

“I think that Reese is showing a great deal of restraint.” Rachael had taken off her jacket, and it was folded and draped over the back of her chair. She still wore the rubber bandage wrapped around over her trim beige blouse. “If she were going to kill us, we’d both be dead by now.”

“So what? We still can’t trust her, and she could still be crazy.”

“I can’t trust you right now, either. You compromised the operation.”

“So now this is about me?”

“You were the one who tried to skip the Zone in a hurry. With a child under joint custody. We can do whatever we want within the Zone. Within limits. But international child abduction? Port Authority takes a strong interest in that. Everybody does.” Gail glowered. Rachael smiled coldly. “More importantly, though, you dropped the ball at the Arc. Totally. You let Reese live. No hard feelings, Reese.”

“Well I’m still not entirely over it,” growled Reese, stepping out of the shadows into the kitchen. Gail kicked back her chair in surprise.

“Reese, we were just talking about you,” Rachael picked up, serenely. “You still haven’t told us about our new, ah, employment arrangements.”

Reese tossed her manila envelope on the table and grabbed the chair at the head of the table. Rachael was seated to her right; Gail stared at her angrily from the other end. She leaned over and dug through the pile of trash on the floor next to her.

“Rachael, give me a pen.”

Rachael dug through her purse and handed over an expensive looking ballpoint.

“Turkey time,” rattled off Reese in a singsong, clicking the pen repeatedly. “Turkey turkey.” She scribbled experimentally on the envelope. “Turkey turkey turkey.” She unlaced the flap on the envelope, pulled out a thick bundle of folders full of papers, and flipped through them idly. “Turkey turkey turkey turkey turkey.”

“Get to the point, already,” snapped Gail.

Reese looked up with a smug grin.

“There is no point. Not yet, anyway.” She started sorting the folders into four separate stacks. “First things first. You two are going to tell me everything about the deal the other day. Everything. Then we can get to the point.”

Rachael and Gail stared at each other unblinkingly. Rachael turned away to face Reese.

“One of my middlemen, one I trust – trusted – very much, came to me about three weeks ago. He told me he had a job from a GM with Applied Genomics’ security department. They wanted a botched smash and grab. They knew all about Red Hook, and wanted it to go the same way.”

Reese tensed. “Red Hook? How did they know about that?”

“How could they not? I’m sure they could have scraped enough of Fred or Gretch or Harold together to get an ID. Or if not them, they could have gotten a make on the suits. Or the truck Or the security tapes. Harold was always sloppy with the logistics.”

“They all were sloppy,” growled Reese. “That’s why they all got killed.”

Rachael sighed and stared down Reese. Reese looked up at the ceiling. Gail shot up and stalked to the fridge.

“Anyway,” Rachael continued, “the client didn’t seem to mind about Red Hook. Liked our style, actually. He, or she, just wanted a failed snatch and grab. Silent infiltration, shootout in the Arc, something dangerous but not too dangerous. Something to shake up the executives without making security look too bad. They needed a bloodbath, and they needed it to point right back at Gencom. They also needed a body. What can I say? You fit the bill.”

“Are you saying this is about me?” Reese slammed her fist on the table. “This is about Red Hook?”

“In a certain sense, yes.” Her smile was gone. “The rest of the team wasn’t at your level. Honestly, they were pretty bad. But they were all I had. You might have been better than any one of them, or even all of them put together, but you couldn’t pull off a job without them.”

“I think I could have. You just never gave me the chance.”

“Could you have gotten as far as you did in Arc 3 without Gail?”

Reese stared at Rachael, quivering with rage. Gail watched silently, one arm hanging onto the open fridge door handle.

“No. I couldn’t.”

Rachael gave her a tight-lipped smile. “You see my choice? Your work was beautiful at Red Hook. Perfect, in a way. But you were the only one to walk away. And so I thought...” Rachael tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “If I hire a new team, you’re going to want to lead it out on the next op. If I don’t make you the leader, you might just be the only one who comes back from it. And if I do make you the leader, the same thing might happen anyway.”
Reese looked back and forth between Rachael and Gail. Rachael continued.

“Gail was thinking the same thing. She refused to work with you. She thought you’d get her killed. She was probably right.”

Rachael took a sip from her can of beer and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “So I decided to take a chance on her and let her plan the Arc Three op. The real op. You know the rest.”

The kitchen was still.

Neon Danger Orange, Part 3

2008-03-23T02:32:00.002-04:00

“Ladies, have a seat,” said Reese, sweeping the pile of junk mail and empty TV dinner trays off her kitchen table. She casually kicked them away and leaned against a chair.

Rachael reluctantly sat down. Gail stood defiantly, holding Melissa’s hand. Henry took a step back towards the kitchen counter, knocking over a dirty glass with his hand. He pulled back his hand nervously.

“Melissa needs some shoes. And clothes. Henry, would you take her out and get her some?”

Henry and Rachael exchanged glances, and Melissa stepped closer to Gail. Rachael sighed and opened her purse.

“Henry, here’s my ATM card.” She held it out, and Henry reached out to grab it. “You saw the mall we passed a couple miles back, right?”

“I’ll go over the directions with him,” sighed Reese, and she firmly guided Melissa over towards the door. “You two, there’s beer in the fridge. Tap water tastes funny, I have a filter thing in the fridge too. I’ll be right back.”
The three walked out the front door. Reese fell in behind Henry and Melissa and left the door ajar.

“Melissa, why don’t you go ahead and get in the car.”
The girl looked up suspiciously and padded down to the SUV parked out by the sidewalk. He reached in his pocket and the car unlocked with a beep.

“You work for Rachael, don’t you?” Henry asked hesitantly.

“Not really, but close enough. Look, you just follow this road, Teracotta Drive, down to the stop sign, hang a right, and follow it straight to the gate. Make a left on to 601 and the mall is right there on your left.”

“Look, about Rachael,” Henry drew himself up. “I, well, I don’t know how to put this, but–”

“Spit it out. I don’t have all night.”

“What, um, is the deal with her? I mean, this is strange and all and today’s been weird and I don’t know what’s going on–”

“You’re must be her boyfriend. She didn’t tell you about all the shit that went down today?”
Henry was taken aback.

“You think that she and I, um, well, actually, we’re just friends, but...”
Reese was visibly confused. She dug around in her pocket, pulled a cigarette out, and lit it.

“You, uh, mind if I get one of those?” Silently she offered him the pack. He grabbed a cigarette and let her light it. He took a deep drag and looked back towards the house nervously.

“Rachael is, well, a friend of the family. I’ve known her for a couple years, and I like her. A lot. I just don’t know if she’s... interested... in, you know...”

“Taking your relationship to the next level,” finished Reese, a bitter note in her voice.

“Exactly.” Henry beamed, oblivious to her tone.

Reese turned away from him and stared up into the night sky.

This guy’s a puppy. Rachael is going to cut him into little pieces. He’s useful. He got us out of here. He’s got a car. Where the hell is my car? Fuck. This is like high school or something. But I saw that look on Rachael’s face. If I scared him away it might hurt her. I’d like that. But I need Rachael for now. Having her tied down might be useful. I don’t know. I’m not a leader. I could kill him I guess. I don’t know. What if him and Rachael are happy together? What kind of baggage does this guy have? Rachael’s baggage? She never talked about this shit.

I don’t need this now.

“Henry.” Reese turned around and stared right in his eyes. He looked down at his feet immediately. “You seem like a nice guy.” He shuddered and kept looking at his feet. She sighed and went on. “Racael’s in some serious shit right now. All of us are.” She paused. “You know, she was in a lot of trouble and the first person she called was you. Nobody else. And you came, and you helped us all out. A lot. That’s gotta count for something.”

“You’re right.” Henry looked up again, wide eyed. She bit her lip, hard, and continued.

“Right now, I need you to get Melissa some clothes. Go out, get her a burger and a milkshake or two as well. We have some business to take care of. What do you do?”

“I work for Zerotel. You know, one of the phone companies. I work on the switches.”

“That’s nice. Try to have a good time out there. Melissa’s a good kid. She’s been through a lot today. Make sure you don’t lose her.”

“Of course not!” He was taken aback by his own tone. “I’m sorry. I’ll be careful with her.”

“Good. Take your time.”

Henry coughed and threw the cigarette on the ground.

“Thanks. I’ll be back later.”

Reese watched him walk quickly to the car and drive off.

I’m not looking forward to this.

She pulled out another cigarette and lit it off the end of her last one.

A blocky black sedan pulled up in front of her. The window slid down.

“Ms. Bruner?” A man was leaning across, an envelope held in his hand. He looked strangely familiar.

“Who wants to know?” She walked towards the car, slowly.

“Figures you wouldn’t remember, kiddo. You partied pretty hard last weekend.” It was the driver who dropped her off just the other day.

“Oh yeah, sure.” She tensed. “I didn’t catch your name, buddy.”

“I didn’t throw it to ya. Catch.” He tossed the envelope out the window to her. Cigarette between two fingers, she fumbled and caught the envelope by holding her arms up to her chest.

“You forgot this in my car the other night. You should stay off the neurostatics. Residual effects include degraded short term memory. Fun fact: 2.5% will have intermittent psychotic episodes for up to a month.”

“I didn’t exactly buy one from a pusher.”

“Bet you some creep put it in your drink when you weren’t looking. You gotta be careful about that stuff. Lot of men out there just waiting to take advantage of a girl out there by herself.”

“Right.”

“I’ll be seeing you.”

“Wait. My car, it’s still missing, I don’t have it. Can I get your card in case I need a ride somewhere?”

“Sorry, Miss, I don’t do work under the table. Buy a new one. You certainly make enough.”

He drove off.

Argon Sensitive Blueberry

2008-03-22T22:28:00.003-04:00

Howdy. As both my readers will have noticed, I'm updating again. What can I say, other than that it's been a hell of a couple months?

First up, the previous updates this month. The new arc of Mercury Vapor Peach has started, and it's "Neon Danger Orange" in honor of another peculiar shade of paint I associate with construction equipment. Stick around as Reese indulges in more violence, mayhem, and awkward conversation!

So anyway, the format war has been won, and I'm starting the gratuitous process of slimming down my DVD library and swapping out the keepers with Blu-Ray. My first Blu title I haven't owned and watched already? No Country for Old Men. It didn't disappoint, being as it's the best thing the Coens ever did.

As far as animated stuff, I haven't gotten anything other than the old Final Fantasy movie (better than I remember it, mainly because I've become a James Woods fan since the last time I saw it, what with him doing a good job on the aggro General Hein) and the newest Appleseed CG movie (which was better than the first one even though it strayed a lot farther from the source material -- like the Hellboy movie, it didn't really have much to do with the comics while hitting the nail on the head when it comes to the spirit of the characters).

To play all these flicks I got a PS3, which is surprisingly not that bad for a console. I thoroughly broke it in with the latest Ratchet and Clank, which was more fun than it had any right to be, and have since been playing the port of Lost Planet as a sort of addiction patch for Mass Effect and a timekiller until MGS4 comes out. (Super Stardust HD is good for nights of insomnia with its twitch action, and I owe it to myself to play through Folklore despite its ignorance of, um... folklore.)

Which leads me to Mass Effect, the other 800 pound gorilla on the 360 scene. It is hands down more fun to play than what I've seen of KOTOR with its third person action, and is a sheer joy to play when I am being the biggest jerk in the galaxy. I came for wiping out entire species with a scowl and a flip of a switch; I stayed for executing a flawless triple cross against infighting corporate factions. And the character creation is a game in itself.

Oh, and the Blade Runner final cut reminded me yet again of how utterly great that movie is.

It's good to be back.

Neon Danger Orange, Part 2

2008-03-22T22:20:00.002-04:00

Reese’s c-phone went off silently, gently protruding bumps from the rubber encased back that nudged her side in her pocket.

She carefully pulled out the earpiece from its spring-loaded spool and clicked it on.

“Where the hell are you? You said you’d be–”

“We’re here now. Gray Fujisan Arcisa. Get in.”

Reese was crouched between two parked cars with a still unconscious Gail and a sullen Melissa. She saw a small gray SUV slowly pull up in front of them. A tall man in his mid-thirties got out the driver’s side and ran over.

“You must be Reese, right? Let me give you a hand.”

She raised her .45 and pointed it at him.

“No sudden moves. Who the hell are you?”

Rachael ran up behind him and whispered angrily.

“He’s... a friend. Put that thing down and help him move Gail.”

They dragged Gail over and slid her into the car, pushing her over to the rear passenger side. Rachael ran around to the other side and opened the door.

“Henry, how do you set the child lock on this thing?”

“I, uh, never used it before.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“Never mind, I got it.”

Reese slid off her jacket and draped it over her arm with the pistol. With her free arm she nudged Melissa into the back center. Rachael had already gotten into the front. She touched Henry’s arm as he gripped the shifter tightly.

“Henry, I’m really sorry about getting you involved with this.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Rachael,” he said with a nervous smile, “You know I’m always glad to help.”

“So where do we go now?” growled Reese.

“I was thinking your place,” snapped Rachael, “This is your show, after all.”

“Fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

“So, where do you live, Reese?” asked Henry, as he gingerly drove up the parking ramps.

“Out in Amboy-Reciprocity.”

“No way. I helped a, uh, friend of mine move out there a couple years ago. Hmm, must have been, about twelve years ago. Where do the years go?”

Rachael frowned.

“Whatever,” Reese responded curtly.

“Henry, let’s just get on the skyway and Reese can give you directions,” Rachael said with concern.

“Fine,” he grunted. A smile flicked across Rachael’s face and disappeared. Neither spoke.

Reese rolled her eyes and leaned back into the corner between the bench and the door and glanced over to Melissa and Gail. Melissa sullenly wiggled her toes and stared at them. Blue irises flashed through Gail’s almost-closed eyes.

“I told you I’d find you,” Reese bit off.

Gail opened her eyes, staring coldly. She put an arm around Melissa and drew her close.

Neon Danger Orange, Part 1

2008-03-22T00:43:00.002-04:00

Reese staggered for a single, eternal moment. Memories of the infiltration, the betrayal, her capture, and the subsequent inscrutable plots and counterplots that had swallowed her whole. She was sloppy. She cataloged her stupid mistakes, lapses of judgement, and words unsaid. She shuddered with rage and fear and self-loathing. She didn’t know how she would react when confronting Gail.

It’s a hundered percent her fault that I’m here, but a hundred percent my fault too. Never mind. The mission.

“Aunt Reese!” A young voice sang out. Reese tried to track her exo’s arm over to cover the door, but it had jammed up. She struggled to pop the cage on the exo, jumped outm and with a clumsy roll had flattened herself against the wall, .45 held towards the ceiling.

In the time that it had taken to do this, a little girl had run out of Room 7845. She was in a pink tracksuit with PRINCESS across the front and bare feet.

“Oh, hello, there, Melissa,” said Reese with a forced smile. “I’m looking for your mother. Is she around?”

“She went to get some ice and some soda.” Melissa rolled her large, doll-like blue eyes. “Gail has been gone a long time.”

“How long?”

“A really long time.”

“Why don’t we go find her?” Not waiting for a reply, Reese jumped up and grabbed Melissa’s hand and started walking.

“I need my shoes!” pouted Melissa.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be right back.”

They silently walked down the empty hall, Reese glancing around nervously while Melissa padded along sullenly.

“Aunt Reese, I’m missing the best part of the show!”

The sound of a high tone rang out from around the corner they just turned.

“HOTEL SECURITY! EVERYBODY DOWN RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” It was followed by the sound of gunfire – the rapid pops of submachine gun fire and the high-pitched chatter of a machine carbine. The elevator pinged.

“If we had been there for one more minute...” mumbled Reese.

The doors slid open, and Reese was face to face with Gail. Gail stood there, mouth working silently, with two cans of ginger ale balanced on a tub of ice. Another eternity. Another second.

Reese crouched down and with a roar sprung up, smashing Gail in the mouth with her forehead. Gail snapped back with a sneeze and the back of her head hit the elevator wall with a crack. Gail crumpled to the floor unconscious as Reese staggered around dizzily.

“Melissa, honey, would you hit the button for basement three?” Melissa stared up agape. “B-3.”

“Hold it right there, ma’am.” A man was standing in the hallway, groggily pointing a machine pistol with his left hand. His right arm was gone, hydraulic fluid dribbling from the socket down the side of his cartoonish black suit. His speech was slurred but his accent was distinctive. Reese stayed slouched down but looked up with a smirk.

“This day wouldn’t be complete without a one armed lesbian.”

“I beg your pardon?” The man’s chunky wraparound sunglasses had fallen to reveal two blue eyes. He rubbed his cheek against his arm in an effort to push them up while covering Reese.
Melissa had flattened herself against the elevator wall under the button. Reese nodded towards her with a twitch. Melissa hit the button, and Reese slouched back with a sneer.

“The one armed part is obvious. So’s the fact that you’re a dickless full conversion.” The man chuckled wryly, flashing too-perfect teeth. A sound somewhere between a whine and a grind came from his leg, and he stumbled back. His gun started to waver.

“Ma’am, I resemble that remark. Now if you’ll kindly step–”

The doors started to slide closed.

“Not this time, Tex.” He started to limp for the door. “Hasta luego.”

“Dammit I am from OKLAHOMA!”

The doors closed and the elevator descended.

Reese slumped down against the wall, next to Gail’s unconscious form. A can of ginger ale rolled by and she grabbed it, snapping the top and taking a long draft in one motion. She choked on an air bubble, coughed spasmodically and beat on her chest with a gasp.
Melissa was still huddled in the corner.

“Why did you do that to my mom?”

“Because she’s in a lot of trouble, and I’m trying to help her.”

“So you bonked her in the face?”

“She’s stubborn.”

Melissa frowned. Reese fumbled out her c-phone from her jacket and thumbed it on in speakerphone mode. It rang.

“Reese, what’s going on up there?” crackled Rachael’s voice.

“I’ve secured Gail. Are you still hiding in the bathroom?”

“Hotel detectives are everywhere. You’d better–”

“I know. I just missed a run-in with them and that goon squad you saw. They’re full conversion jobs. Where are you?”

“I’m taking care of our exit strategy. Someone has to think–”

“I’m going to the basement parking now. I’d better see you down there–”

“I’m taking care of stuff now. Hunting me down should be pretty low on your priorities. We have to get out of here, Port Authority is going to lock this whole complex down pretty soon. Just wait for me on basement two. Try not to attract any attention.”

Reese wiped her forehead. It felt sticky. She looked at her hand and it was smeared with blood.

“How am I supposed to do that? I’m a mess, Gail’s out cold, and I’ve got her kid too.”

“Fine. Whatever. You can’t. Just try not to, oh, incoming call. Bye.”

The Great Experiment: Part 2

2008-01-20T22:11:00.001-05:00

While the Wordpress templates are a lot prettier, I seem to lose some functionality. So I'll stay here where it's ugly, but it gets the job done.

The Great Experiment, Part 1

2007-12-20T00:28:00.001-05:00

Okay, so I'm getting a little bored with Blogger. Head over to my new joint at Wordpress for the second part. I like the post importing feature. I also like Twitter.

Mariana Gulch

2007-12-16T22:40:00.000-05:00

Had a snowy Syracuse weekend. With the 180 lbs of tube sand in the back, my car ran on rails. Though I did have to play it safe driving to the Apple Store to ultimately get my iPhone replaced due to abnormally low standby time. (8 hrs!)

So yes, I did get the iPhone. Good and bad, it is pretty much what everybody said it was. The multi-touch interface has changed the way I look at mobile devices, yet the software keyboard annoys me as the icons are just small enough to be gummed up by my hammy big thumbs. Apple makes its money by taking away all the unnecessary stuff from the interface to leave a clean interface, yet in this go-around they may have taken away a little too much. For example:

Use Case # 307: "I know what I want, kind of"

I want to listen to a particular song, and then let shuffle take me where it will.

Old 5G iPod: set playback to shuffle, per song, select my song, and then listen. Nice.

iPhone: listen to one song, stop it, then hit Shuffle Songs from the top of the menu. Not so nice.

UPDATE: I am an idiot. I figured out where to find these settings.

But the camera is nice, and it's easy to manage contact info in a way that my work Blackberry isn't. I still prefer the BB for getting work done, at least.

As far as comparing apples to apples to apples, I broke down and got one of the new Nanos for the car. No moving parts is good -- hard drives were never quite a good fit for on the go listening, and the incrementally updated interface for the regular old ipods in this gen is actually better than the fancy-pants iPhone in certain ways.

Ace Combat 6 for the XBOX 360 is as good as it gets, graphics wise, even if I prefer the venerable Zero for enjoyment. I have yet to play through it again on Hard, Expert, and Ace.

What took up my time on the Box this week was Bioshock, the game that makes me glad to own the hardware. It's as good as everybody says it is, the little things (like low difficulty) make it easier for me to enjoy the masterfully written story. And it is masterful. I'll definitely be making regular trips back to Rapture to blow stuff up with telekinetically-propelled acetylene cylinders covered with proximity mines.

The Box is great -- it has the games I want to play (Ace Combat) and also is a poor man's gaming PC. Now I don't have to spend a grand a year on my gaming rig, and I might actually have a machine that can display Crysis this decade.

GURPS: Brooklyn Sourcebook

2007-11-25T21:25:00.000-05:00

Currently, I'm rounding out a week of not going to work. My boss told me to take the week off, or else. So I did, and here I am, downstate after a week of hanging around the folks' house and a weekend of drinking and dining in Manhattan with MoBro. (Not my brother, somebody else.)

On his shelf I saw a little black book with NFT in MTA circled letters. Not For Tourists, it proclaimed, and it turned out to be a guide for NYC residents written by NYC residents, a sort of anti-travel-guide of where to eat, drink, and buy lightbulbs and booze in your new home. In that respects it's like a GURPS sourcebook for a city, including locations, maps, landmarks, and even bits of urban lore.

Get all the guides in PDF, a page at a time, here.

One such bit of urban lore was that of Robert Moses, the architect of latter twentieth-century NYC and also the man largely responsible for urban decay. His biography, The Power Broker, is apparently must-read material.

Urban Planning.

The orgy of highway-building of the fifties and sixties, ripping apart neighborhoods and chokepointing everything for the future, followed by the freeway revolts of the sixties and seventies. Urban decay, riots, traffic congestion.

It seems that the city has managed to survive, and is even flourishing again, despite all the best effforts of the utopian, car-obsessed planners of the postwar years. I like 'em.

One Step Up from Shredding the Cello

2007-10-28T20:05:00.000-04:00

So I like classical violin, right? I also like Garbage, and even some Danny Elfman. And yes, I even think that Tori Amos can rock.

Add that to a free-association connections from Metalocalypse and I end up with Emilie Autumn, a musical prodigy turned goth electric violin singer-songwriter, uh, person.

Rejected Internet Meme

2007-10-16T23:48:00.001-04:00

I think this is what the Japanese have instead of Family Guy:

Beef Takeshi

2007-10-09T13:57:00.000-04:00

Last night, I totally rocked the crock pot the first time. As requested by Dachan, here is my latest culinary success.

TAKESHI'S GREEN CHILI SHREDDED BEEF

Use a crock pot.

For teh beef:

3 -4 lbs. chuck roast
35 oz. salsa verde (give or take, should be five 7 oz. cans or two 14 oz. bottles)
One 7 oz. can pickled green jalapenos, diced
One 14.5 oz. can diced tomatoes with green chiles
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 cup onion, chopped
about a third of a bottle of McIlhenny's Tabasco brand garlic sauce
Enough olive oil to cover the bottom of your saucepan

These figures are ballpark, adjust to taste.

Sautee onions and garlic in saucepan until browned.
Cut the chuck roast into three or four chunks, trimming excess fat
Combine ingredients in crock pot
Cook on HIGH for three hours, reduce to LOW and cook for five hours with cover on.
Remove beef and shred with two forks.
Return shredded beef to crockpot and leave on LOW with cover off. Reduce to taste.

Serve on tortillas with sour cream, shredded lettuce, and shredded cheese.

A 0, 1, 10, 11...

2007-10-07T02:30:00.000-04:00

Almost forgot, the best combination of cult SF and the Godfather of Soul since Rasu's 1996 mix tape twist ending:

Lightning Round

2007-10-07T01:31:00.000-04:00

Been a while since I posted, but here goes.

For Channel Frederator's 100th episode they played an animated video for Weird Al's parody of Trapped in the Closet:

Trapped In The Drive-Thru

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I haven't even thought about Weird Al in like six years.

Even weirder, R. Kelly is still making more Trapped in the Closet.

So some quick reviews of movies:

Predator 2 was one of those movies I hadn't seen because of the TNT Paradox. I watched it and I thought it wasn't that good, but it wasn't bad either -- Bill Paxton's antics (and when does he even antic anymore?) was the tipping-point. It was a lot better after watching AVP, which was just awful in too many ways to mention (terrible pacing, no internal logic, absurd ending) it wasn't that bad. In fact, that's my acid test – a movie so bad that there could be no doubt about its badness and I can remind myself that I am still able to distinguish between good and bad movies.

Kind of like Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever.

Commando is still as good a movie as when I first never quite saw it. See the TNT Paradox, above.

Cabin Fever is kind of like Evil Dead, but with Ebola instead of ancient demons, or maybe House of 1000 Corpses but without all that stupid sadistic shit that made me hate myself for watching it. In other words, probably the second most fun expirence watching Eli Roth stuff. The first, of course, is his "shots" speech from Death Proof.

The 36th Chamber of Shaolin pretty much lives up to the hype of being the quintessential kung fu movie and proof why Gordon Liu deserved not one, but two major roles in Kill Bill.

Miami Vice is kind of like Heat but without all the warm fuzzy stuff about how love is nice and conquers all and stuff. But I'm all about the emotionally stunted bleakness, so I thoroughly enjoyed it. The one thing that did not enjoy my total buy-in was casting Gong Li as the "half Chinese half Cuban" character, other than "Asian chicks are hot." While that's certainly true, I didn't see it really contributing to the movie, other than Gong Li's frustration at having to learn her lines phonetically. That's entertainment, I guess.

I know there are people out there who like Metalocalypse, like the guy at work and the checkout dude at Walmart, but it still seems to be kind of under the radar. Most people seem to be confused and angered by the admixture of death metal, conspiracy theories, over the top gore, and the comedy of the dumb, but I love it. Mark Hamill does the voice for the shadowy Senator Stompington, and that alone is enough for me.

Zwartboek, the latest from Paul Verhoven, worked for me. People say it's Showgirls meets Schindler's List, but poeple like saying glib and meaningless things and never letting Verhoeven live down Showgirls.

And for even dorkier fare:

Star Trek: The Motion Picture was about how I remembered it: slow pacing, interesting but dated production design, and godawful costumes. I was amused by the fact that it was a 2001 ripoff and the whole UBTREAS "Waters of Babylon" shenanigans, but really, it doesn't amount to that much other than being a source of props and cut footage for the sui generes Wrath of Khan.

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex: Solid State Society was like a long episode of 2nd GiG, in that it had clever references to the manga and to Appleseed, and that it doesn't even matter how good it was because it kicks ass and is better than pretty much anything else that has come out of Japanese television in the last five years besides Paranoia Agent.

And in the theater:

Shoot 'Em Up was about what I should have expected: crazy gun battles, dadaist plot, and Paul Giamatti being a total self-indulgent dork. And I mean that last part in the best sense. If it had a message, it would have been, "Hey, remember when people made movies based on the old good John Woo movies? That was awesome." The gun control message was so laughable I couldn't have seen the movie not having it. I dunno, I guess it was good.

I haven't seen Eastern Promises yet and that makes me sad.

As for movies not out yet:

Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem gives me hope. The trailer by itself was rated R for violence, and the old logos from Aliens and Predator are back. Ryoko Aylesworth of 24 is totally rocking the Sigourney Weaver warrior/mother-figure thing, and it had as much head trauma as, say, the remake of Assault on Precinct 13.

Books:

Been meaning to read Greenspan's book, even though it will probably be as self-justifying as Musharraf's autobiography. (Which has been tempting me recently, as the General is supposed to be quite the showman.) Also the latest Mao biography looks good. And they're making movies out of the Teddy Roosevelt biography series too. (?!!)

On top of my pile of books I really should have read by now, I added Moby Dick. I'm a loser for not reading that book. And more Hemmingway.

Now I just need to make some time to read.

Space Monks, Serenity, and Lost Children

2007-09-18T23:35:00.000-04:00

Onward to the not-good half of the Quadrilogy. I finally made it all the way through the workprint version of Alien³, and it perplexes me. Being a Fincher joint, it oozes atmosphere and production design, and pulls off an air of profound melancholy. Despite that, it ignores one of its predecessors and actively undermines the other. In that respect, it kind of sort of maybe works as a movie, even though it isn't really an Alien film. And don't forget to observe it through the prism of it being a Fincher movie: given enough time and studio support, he did create Se7en and Fight Club. (Note to self: watch Zodiac, and maybe even Panic Room)

I remember watching Alien Resurrection, and thinking, "This is a ripoff of Deep Rising, which was a ripoff of Aliens with it being on a boat full of water. Now it's a boat full of water in space."

I tried watching it again, to fill out the full "Quadrilogy" experience, but I couldn't make it through. My impressions were a bit different, mainly because I had seen the crazy French director's movie (City of Lost Children) and the crazy nerd screenwriter's movie (Serenity).

It feels a lot like the Serenity landed on the oil rig in City of Lost Children, complete with a strongman Ron Perlman. But this time, the space pirates are not so loveable, and they do not endear. Whedon himself states that they took his screenplay and did everything opposite to how he intended it. Sure, Ripley got to chew scenery as a selfish superbeing, but this is Sigourney Weaver – this was her victory lap after pulling off the role in earnest three times in the past. (And in a way, her performance in A3 was her best) The other ones were more annoying than sly.

Or it could be that bizarre Gallic sense of humor. Probably not, because they lacked the dudes with the artificial eyes.

Anyway, there's this trailer for AVP2 out now. Sure, it takes place in the present, but it's ridiculously violent. Impalings, cutting in half, holes blown through heads, heads blown off, and acid on a kid's face. And there's also that woman from 24 all like, I'm Ellen Ripley.

That seems to be the thing about post-300 movies: even when they suck, they still kick ass. In other words, filmmaking has come to providing such sheer, overwhelming spectacle that it gouges out disbelief from the viewer's skull like a little mouth with teeth shooting out of a big mouth with bigger teeth and gouging out brains.

And yes, I think that Shoot 'Em Up was one of these movies – it had a lame plot about clone babies and gun control, but it simply blathered this stuff out as it slowly reached for a gun and then pulled off seventeen headshots while ziplining through a vat of Crisco. On roller skates with guns taped on them. With more guns taped on the guns.

Rumble in Vancouver, Alien(s)

2007-09-15T22:44:00.000-04:00

What makes Starship Exeter as good as it is? It has the same thing that I think made TOS good to begin with: simplicity. Premise, characters, action, resolution. Its scientific presumptions could be summarized in a single sentence. Characters were strongly drawn in broad strokes, but could be defined by who they were and not what backstory they had. To a certain extent Babylon 5 kept this approach, even if it ended up being Lord of the Rings in space or something.

The other fan made TOS spinoff, New Voyages, kind of gets on its nerves for its multitudinous references to other storylines, future events, and quantum tachyon phased polarity tomfoolery. As good old Bill says, I can't get behind that.

Looking back on TOS specifically, and Star Trek in general, it seems that there is a whole lot more going on than Roddenberry let on. Despite the use of basic face prosthetics and chromatic skin paint, most of the lost colonies and crazy setups of Star Trek were human in origin, with some sort of twist. Lurking below the surface is perhaps the never-realized presence of an ancient, dead, human civilization that once spanned old Federation space and after some cataclysm fragmented into a thousand abandoned enclaves. Occam's razor would certainly favor that over the hand-wave of "parallel evolution". (Come to think of it, every time they come across a planet that resembles some period of human history, it turns out that somebody dropped a book that everyone decided to model their life upon. It's an unproven, if not disproven theory.)

And yes, that concept will be my next fiction exercise. But I promise I'll finish up MVP first.

It's hard, these days, for a person like me to come to an informed and rational opinion on the merits of a film. I know there are things I enjoy, and it's easy to lose track of what makes sense. So I decided to watch a truly awful movie.

Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever is exactly what the critics say it is – irredeemable, incomprehensible gibberish. It was the sort of movie that made not a lot of sense on watching it, and even less sense as time elapsed. It didn't help that it had the Toad dude in it and I kept thinking he was Seth Green.

Smokin' Aces was kind of like it, except it was more fun to watch. Payback was kind of like it in that it had that sadistic blond backstabbing dude. Payback was also remarkable in that it felt like it was made in 1989 but was in fact made in like 1999 or something.

Finally, the age old debate: Alien versus Aliens. I sat down and watched both directors' cuts this evening, and I think I figured out what, exactly, makes me favor one over the other.

And I like Alien more.

Aliens is a great movie. It is one of the greatest action movies of all time. Yet on a personal level, there are things that, were I involved in making the movie, I would do differently.

Like, maybe, putting some Colonial Navy on the damn Sulaco like I'm sure they would if they had a space assault ship that looks like a giant pulse rifle in real life.

Maybe there was a good reason for it, but that reason would have to be explained to me. For a movie, in my mind, to be truly great, it really has to exist as a world unto myself. I can't question anything, because it's the real world and it's there and that's enough.

That's also the problem with the Star Wars movies – they beg the viewer to explain them. Where are the bathrooms? Do stormtroopers ever sit down? Why are there only seven planets in the galaxy? What is really so important about Tatooine? What does the Sarlaac eat other than random gangsters and sand? What do stormtroopers eat?

Who shot Bib Fortuna?

What Should Have Been

2007-09-14T23:17:00.000-04:00

Back from the dead, the wonderful people at Starship Exeter have put up the next part of "The Tressaurian Intersection". If you don't watch this, and yet read this blog, then shame on you.

And now for something completely different...

2007-09-10T17:41:00.001-04:00

This guy does the best video game reivews. Ever. Check him out here:

http://www.escapistmagazine.com/articles/view/editorials/zeropunctuation

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 9

2007-09-09T20:16:00.000-04:00

1434 EDT

Reese scissor-kicked her legs, rolling axially across the elevator lobby to Jotun 4, bowling him over wiithout slowing. His 12.7 went flying, and his camo flickered wildly and went a dead black from the impact. She flipped around and dropped into a crouch. In a flash she reached out with her left arm and grasped Four’s head in its heavy lifting pincers. Another twist of the wrist and his neck snapped in his helmet. Sidestepping fluidly, she swung back and flung his lifeless body down the hall.

The remaining infiltrators fired off a burst of darts, but Reese had already grabbed the kicked out elevator door and was using it as a shield. Sensing a lull in their fire, she flipped it up horizontally and flung it forward.

The infiltrators all tried to jump back out of the way. Jotun Two was too slow and was clipped in the thigh by the corner of the door. The impact sent him spinning back.

One and Three had taken cover behind pillars and hurried to unsling their anti-armor rifles. Before they could fire, Reese had smashed in a door and disappeared from view.

JOTUN 1: Limiters. Cut out. That’s how he does it.

They heard a crash. The exo had broken through the wall and was in the next room down.

JOTUN 1: Deuce, are you OK?

JOTUN 2: My leg’s seized up and my camo is out, but everything else is working.

JOTUN 1: Just keep your sensors up and on the net.

JOTUN 3: I got a fix on him.

Three fired off short bursts of armor piercing bullets into the wall, tracking the sound of Reese’s movements.

JOTUN 2: I’m checking my visor records while I’m down. That exo’s pilot is... wait, that’s Bruner.

JOTUN 1: I thought she was dead.

There was the sound of another wall demolished.

JOTUN 3: I can’t get a clean shot. This five mil is squirrelly in drywall.

Another crash, and a series of loud pops.

JOTUN 2: TV tubes breaking. She’s cluttering up the noise field.

JOTUN 1: She can’t stay back there forever. Three, take the next door. Smart grenades, contact trigger. Count of three, breach and toss.

They flattened themselves against the wall and tensed in preparation.

JOTUN 3: Ready when you are.

JOTUN 1: One.

The fire alarm went off, chirping loudly. The overhead sprinklers went off.

JOTUN 1: Two.

JOTUN 2: Too much noise. My seismics are no use now, Boss.

JOTUN 1: Three.

One and Three simultaneously swung around and kicked the doors to rooms 7832 and 7834 down, following through with a grenade toss and backwards jump. The floor was rocked by a single explosion as a smart grenade detonated.

JOTUN 3: I’m going in.

Three burst into what had been Room 7832. All the windows were knocked out. On the left he could look through a series of holes to the rooms that Reese had gone through. To the right was a single hole, showing a room torn to shreds by the smart grenade’s shrapnel. He heard the distant pop of a grenade coming from the window.

JOTUN 3: One explosion, no shrapnel. The window–

The exo swung down through the window and into the room, landing in a crouch. A manipulator shot out, grabbed Three’s leg, and swung him out the window. His scream filled the comm channel for several seconds until he hit the ground.

One had burst into the room, rifle at the ready, and was clawing at his helmet during these few seconds. In an instant, Reese had burst through the wall back into the hallway.

One fired off a few shots into the wall and missed. He ducked back through the door.

JOTUN 2: Boss, she went across the hall. I couldn’t get a shot.

JOTUN 1: She can’t keep hiding. Four’s gun is right over there. I’m going to grab it and end this now. Cover me!

One ran down the hall towards the gun.

A soda machine slid out in front of him. The exo was there, holding it like a riot shield, and it shoved the machine forward. One was too fast, jumping back and dropping to a kneel. He fired several bursts into the machine, but the exo did not waver. He shifted his aim down and hit a leg.

The exo shuddered and fell forward. A mist of pink hydraulic oil shot from its ankle. Falling sideways, Reese reached towards the wall and wrenched free a length of standpipe. Water gushed from the ceiling.

One struggled to reload.

Reese drew back the exo’s arm and hurled the pipe forward like a javelin. It hit One in the chest with a crunch and sent him flying back.

The exo crawled back, keeping the vending machine up to shield from Two’s shots. Its right hand split and folded back, exposing a human-sized mechanical hand. It snatched Four’s 12.7 from the floor, brought the gun to bear, and put three AP rounds in Two’s chest.

Reese brought the exo down the hall with a limp, pausing to put a shot in One’s helmeted head. She came around the next corner and saw Room 7845. The door was wide open.

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 8

2007-09-09T15:33:00.001-04:00

1429 EST
STAIRWELL K
78TH FLOOR

A single indistinct figure ascended to the 78th floor landing. As it pressed itself against the wall, the hue of its monochrome dot camo pattern shifted from dark to light, adapting to the glare thrown by the landing’s overhead fluorescents. An arm resolved itself and gently pulled the door ajar, followed by a pseudopod in the shape of a gun barrel gingerly slipping between the door and the jamb. A second figure slipped past and knelt on the landing between the 78th and 79th floors.

Over an encrypted wideband channel:

JOTUN 2: Entrance clear. No neutrals sighted.

JOTUN 3: Upstairs clear.

JOTUN 1: Keep your eyes out for cameras.

JOTUN 4: Flank is clear. Moving up.

JOTUN 2: Moving out into hallway. This is room 7877 up front.

JOTUN 1: Three, cover the other direction.

JOTUN 3: Roger.

JOTUN 2: Moving to the hallway junction. Crap. Forty-five is the other way.

JOTUN 1: Three, take point and cover your intersection. Four, follow me out.

JOTUN 4: Roger.

As the four suits moved into the incandescent-lit hall, their hues shifted from whitish-blue to a light yellow. Black dazzle stripes appeared, breaking up their outline against the shadows of pillars, doorways, and fixtures.

JOTUN 2: Boss, I don’t like this. All these peepholes.

JOTUN 1: Calm down, Deuce. What do you think people are doing in a hotel at two in the afternoon?

JOTUN 3: I’m at a bank of elevators. Should I use ECM?

JOTUN 1: Negative. If we move fast, they’ll think it’s a trick of the light. If we jam it with centimeter, they’ll know something’s up. Let the show force do their job.

JOTUN 3: Yes, sir.

JOTUN 1: Everybody, form up with Three and we’ll cross the landing at once.

Suddenly, a klaxon rang out. The four suits tensed.

JOTUN 1: Three, what’s going on?
JOTUN 3: It’s coming from one of the elevators.

JOTUN 1: Must be a malfunction. Let’s make our move. Deuce, cross over and take point.

JOTUN 2: Roger.

JOTUN 3: Holy shit. A cable just parted.

The whip of flying cable and the clatter of metal on metal reverberated through the hall from the elevator door. The sound faded, but a rhythmic clanking grew louder.

JOTUN 3: Something coming down the shaft. It’s coming closer!

JOTUN 1: Stay calm! It could be a rescue machine. They aren’t interested in this floor!

JOTUN 3: Right after the cable parted?

The clanking became unbearably loud. Then it abruptly stopped.

JOTUN 1: Four, get out your twelve seven-

The elevator doors suddenly bucked outward, hit from within by a great force. They slowly slid apart with a groan, and one of them suddenly vanished, pulled back in and dropped. The crash of steel panels careening down the shaft faded.

Jotun 4 fired measured bursts at the gaping hole, gouging out fist-sized craters in the remaining door.

JOTUN 1: Cease fire!

They heard the scream of hydraulics and a crash as the remaining elevator door was kicked across the hall and into the opposite wall. It was followed by a blur of orange and black.

It was a construction exoskeleton. For an instant it lay there, prone on the floor, an anthropomorphic cage of neon danger orange paint and matte armored tubes. Where a head would have been on a human there was a bar suspended between shoulder posts, studded with floodlights and sensors. A woman’s head poked up from the exoskeleton’s heart.

It was Reese. She was laughing.

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 7

2007-09-08T09:31:00.001-04:00

1423 EDT
MEZZANINE C

“I’d like to send up flowers and chocolate to my friend’s room,” said Rachael with a genial smile. “She’s flying out of town and I want to see her off well.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” responded the concierge. Her name tag read JEANNINE. “Do you have a room number?”

“I don’t,” Rachel responded with a concerned frown. “Her name is Gail Moriarty. She should be here with her daughter.”

“Just a moment.” The concierge entered a few keystrokes. “I’m sorry, there is nobody here by that name.”

Don’t mention the credit card statement. Just roll with it. Start counting out a bribe.

“There must be some mistake. I’m certain she checked in today. Can you check again? It’s spelled M-O-R-I-A-R-T-Y”

“With a Y? That’s not very Italian.”

“It’s an Irish name.” Rachael scowled.

“Oh.” Jeannine blinked and smiled. “I apologize for the mistake. She’s staying in Room 7845. What could we send up for you?”

“Dozen long stem roses, small box of cherry cordials.”

Jeannine typed in the order.

“Sixty two dollars and forty nine cents is your total.” Rachael idly peeled off four twenties from the roll in her jacket pocket. “All set! They’ll be delivered within the hour... hmm.”

“Your friend must be a very nice person to have friends like you.”

Rachael blinked and searched Jeannine’s face for sarcasm. She couldn’t find any.

“What makes you say that?”

“Somebody else is sending a flower arrangement. It will arrive at the same time as yours.”

“Oh, maybe that’s Reese. I’d love to meet up with her if she’s around.”

“I’m sorry, it looks like this one was called in about twenty minutes ago.” Jeannine narrowed her eyes and looked over Rachael’s shoulder. “Excuse me.”

Rachael turned around and tensed. She counted four men in suits striding up the stairs from the front entrance. She glanced back and saw that Jeannine was now speaking in her headset nervously. She pulled out her own c-phone and dialed.

“Reese.”

“Make it quick.”

“The situation’s changed. There are four goons here in the main lobby. They have to be a distraction. Somebody else is after Gail.”

Rachael was careful to not look back in the direction of the concierge desk. She made a beeline for the women’s room.

“How can you be sure?”

“Somebody used the same trick I did to get Gail’s room number. It’s 7845. Go to 7845, there’s probably a strike team on the way up.”

“I’m in the cargo elevator now. I was able to find a construction exo.”

“Are you sure that’s enough? They know the target. They’re going to be using AP rounds for sure.”

“I can handle it. What’s the status down there?”

“I’m in the bathroom now. If they’re looking for Gail, they probably know what I look like.”

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 6

2007-09-07T09:01:00.000-04:00

1407 EDT
PARKING SUB-LEVEL 3K
THE STARFIRE CORDIALITY-SANCTUARY HOTEL
GOLDWATER MEMORIAL SPACEPORT
ELIZABETH-IVORY DISTRICT

“Sure. There’s nothing, rggh, suspicious about a panel truck full of people in a parking garage at two in the, rrhhg, afternoon.” Rachael quickly wrapped a rubber bandage around her chest. “You really had to take the second shot, didn’t you, Reese? You broke a rib.”

“You had to get the last word in.” Reese was leaning against the passenger side door, looking sidelong down the length of the truck. “You’re sure she’s here?”

“Of course Gail is here. She used my credit card to check in this morning. Oh, and put that thing out. Only two kinds of people smoke in a non-smoking area. Cops and robbers.”

“What about fugitives?”

“They’re trying to avoid attention. So much so that they call attention to themselves.”

“Huh.”

“What’s the first thing you think of when you see a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign?”

“I wonder what they’re doing in there.”

“Exactly.”

Reese thought on this for a second and spoke again.

“Hotels are weird. They provide television and soda machines and little desks and pencils and papers. As if somebody thought that people would, oh, say, hey, I’ll take a week and fly to Goldwater so I can write letters and watch television all day. What are you looking for?”

Rachael was now rummaging through the truck’s cabinets. Team Two was looking on indifferently.

“A bag that doesn’t look like it’s full of guns.”

“Are there some jumpsuits in there? Maybe–”

“Maintenance crews? No. That stuff is all scheduled centrally. Many have tried that stupid stunt. Was your Plan B supposed to be us maybe dressing up as maids to get past?”

“No, I just wanted–”

“You’re getting too fancy.” Rachael was getting visibly annoyed. “There are thousands of people out there who are at this very minute walking into hotels without getting shot at. You know what their secret is?”

Reese was taken aback. Next to her, there was the click of a C-Phone case being closed. Tommy cleared his throat.

“Reese, you and your friend are on your own now. Team Two is pulling out right now.”

Reese leaned in and looked at the three other Team Two operatives sitting in the back.

“Somehow we’ll manage. What happened?”

“Rick was taking a ground effect down to the S.E.A. for a meeting, and it went down.”

“Wow. What does that mean for me, then?”

“I don’t even know what this means for me.” He started the engine. “See you around.”

The truck pulled out and took a ramp out of view. Rachael was the only other person on the level, among an innumerable expanse of cars.

“Reese. Put that goddamn thing out now. We are not cops and we are not robbbers. We are now people who follow the rules. We are people who own cars and who get stuck in airports and need a place to sleep.”

Reese glared at her for a moment, took a defiant drag, and dropped her cigarette to the concrete floor. Rachael strode towards the elevators, and Reese fell into step.

“So what do I tell them if they ask what flight I was on?” Reese bit off.

“Tell them it’s none of their goddamn business.”

“But-”

Rachael stopped and turned to face Reese.

“Look. I was a hotel detective for five years. I couldn’t scope up every person who walked in and out. I just looked for abnormal behavior. Act normal, for godsake. We know Reese is here from her bills.

“I’ve never seen you angry before.”

“Eh.”

“I think I like you better this way.”

Rachael looked up and regarded her with a cold smile.

“Whatever. All I care about is getting out of this mess and never seeing you again. Keep your mouth shut and follow my lead. Then we’ll shake the tree and wait for Gail to fall out.”

Reese had paused and was looking out towards the distant wall of the parking floor.

“Looks like some construction is going on. I need to check for something.”

Rachael’s smile disappeared.

“You’re going to... no. No. No. You can’t do that. You’re going to start a war.”

“Fine. You want to try it your way? Go up there, pull strings, bribe, stick knives in people, whatever. I’m giving you one hour. If I don’t get a call from you and you put Gail on, I’m doing this my way.”

“I don’t–”

“This is my op.”

They stared at each other silently. Reese’s c-phone rang. She fished it from her pocket, glanced at the secondary display on the side, and exhaled a ragged sigh.

“Reese, this is Jonathan!” crackled the c-phone. “I’ve got a lead for you on Rachael Scoll. According to her calendar, she has a lunch appointment downtown tomorrow at eleven–”

“Jonathan, Jon, Jon, stop right there,” she growled. “I bagged Rachael and she’s on the team. We’re going after Gail now.”

“I would have appreciated knowing about that before.”

“Sure. Talk to you later.”

“But-”

She slammed the case shut with a satisfying plastic crunch.

“Fifty-eight minutes.”

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 5

2007-09-02T23:30:00.000-04:00

One minute later:

Feet set wide apart, Reese stared down the barrel of her M1911 at Rachael Scoll. Rachael sat forward at her desk, hands folded, as serene as always.

“Reese, so good to see you. I knew you’d make it out of Arc 3 alive.”

“I ought to kill you for what you did to me.”

“Reese, be reasonable. It was nothing you didn’t agree to when you signed on with us.”

They stared at each other silently.

“You don’t have to take everything so personally, Reese. It’s not like I’m not fulfilling my obligations here.”

“So you sent the money to my parents?”

“These things take time. The op was only on Friday, after all.”

More silence.

“I’d offer you your old job back, but you should know that it wouldn’t really benefit any of the parties involved. Everything depends on you going away.”

“Thank you, but I already have another job.”

“Gencom? If I were you–”

“AG.”

“That can’t be right. We did the job for AG. We’re actually an AG shop now.” She brought up her hands, palms in, as if holding an invisible box. “I think it would be in your best interest to leave. AG won’t look kindly on these, these... antics of yours.”

“There’s just so much... wrong with that I don’t know where to start.” Reese gritted her teeth in thought. “There’s a power struggle going on there beyond the level of me or you or us. We’re all involved in this war now.”

“Reese, I’ve been in this trade for over twenty years. I don’t think you’re giving my experience–”

Reese shifted her aim and shot Rachael in the shoulder with a rubber bullet.

“Ow shit what the hell was that for you little bitch!”

Reese grinned.

“You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you not smile,” gloated Reese. Rachael’s face was flushed with anger so that her freckles stood out even more. “Listen up because I don’t have a lot of time. This is no longer about you and me anymore. I swear to God if it was I would have blown your brains out by now.”

Rachael closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she had regained her composure, but her smile was now twisted with a vicious glee.

“You need me, don’t you, Reese. You need me for something, and you can’t kill me.”

“You’re right.” Reese frowned. “From now on, you work for me.”

Rachael laughed, a light and airy cackle. She had reasserted her serene countenance.

“Darling. You are a great operator. You always have been, and you’re doing great work right now. But I don’t have confidence in your ability to lead a team. Do you think Gail could have done what she did to you if you weren’t a failure as a squad leader?”

Reese’s mouth worked but no response came out.

“It’s clear now that I’m in over my head in this matter. But you’re in much, much deeper, and my experience tells me that you’re drowning.”

Reese growled and shifted her aim to Rachael’s chest. Rachael flinched.

“No, don’t, don't, just calm down. I’ll cooperate with you. I’ll be on your team. I’ll assist your new employers in any way I can. I don’t have any choice in the matter.” Her smile became a wicked grin. “But you don’t, either.”

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 4

2007-09-02T22:14:00.000-04:00

1102 EDT
COLES & 5TH ST
JHC DISTRICT SOUTH

Reese stood in front of a three story warehouse building, tapping on the buzzer repeatedly. She looked up and to the right, shielding her eyes from the sun, and smiled for the security camera. The magnetic lock released with a buzz and a click. She padded up a steep flight of stairs and came out into the waiting room.

“Reese? What are you doing here? I heard you and Gail took the week off.” Lucy, their admin girl, looked up with surprise and confusion.

“Yeah. I just came to the office to pick up my shit before I left.”

“So how did the job go this weekend? Everything go as planned?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, watch out for Rachael. She lost her c-phone again and–”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just going to be in and out,” grunted Reese over her shoulder, as she walked down the narrow hall.

“Lucy.” Reese flattened herself against the wall, hearing the intercom on Lucy’s d-phone crackle with Rachael’s serene voice. “Did you take care of my phone yet?”

“I talked to Zonecom, and they said we’d have to pay full price for a replacement.”

“I’m disappointed. With the business we give them they should send out a replacement. Did you ever find out what happened to the spare?”

“Gail must have taken it on Friday. I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Just stay on it, Lucy. I can’t get any work done if I don’t have a c-phone, can I?”

‘Well, you have your d-phone, couldn’t–”

“I want a replacement or something by the end of the day. You’ll find that you’ll get further giving solutions than giving excuses.”

“Right. Yes, Rachael.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Reese gritted her teeth and took a turn at the first door. It was the women’s locker room, and it was empty. She pressed her thumb to her locker’s touch screen and it popped open. She pulled out her flak vest first and pulled it on, then rifled through her jacket’s pockets. She pulled out her keychain.

House key is missing.

She pulled out her key from her pocket, and held it up to the light. She attached the key to the chain and put it in her pocket.

They really don't have a clue that AG is onto them. This place is in for some serious trouble, all right.

Reese pulled on her jacket and strode to the next room in the hall, the network closet. She stared down at the server, a three foot cube on wheels. She pulled out the power cord, popped the front panel, and yanked out the hard drive, dropping it in her duffel bag. She looked over her shoulder and pulled out a smart grenade.

Pull the ring, turn to five minutes, pull the pin. I love these things.

“Hey, Reese. Thought you had today off.”

Shit. Just stuff in the grenade.

“Oh, hi there, Anton.” It was the operations guy.

Why does everybody think I should go out with this guy?

“The file server’s down, just tried to copy some stuff over to it. What are you doing in there? I think you might have knocked the cord out.”

“Really? I was just looking and, oh, could you look at it? I think that I saw something stuck in the, uh, drive.”

“You users...”

Reese stood up and stepped back, and Anton kneeled down, clucking at her.

“The front panel’s off–”

She brought down the butt of her silenced .45 on the back of his neck. He collapsed with a dull thud.

“Anton? Reese?” It was Lucy again. Reese stuffed her .45 into her jacket and turned around.

“Lucy!” Reese tensed and then forced a smile. “I was just about to head out and I saw Anton here. He must have hit his head on the rack or something.”

“That’s terrible! Stay here! I’m going to call an ambulance!” Lucy spun around and started to run down the hall.

Reese checked her watch. In one quick motion she reached into her bag, snatched up a nightstick, snapped it out to its full length, brought it to the ready over her shoulder, and threw it in a spinning arc at the back of Lucy’s head.

The throw was off. On the downspin it tapped the crown of Lucy’s skull and careened upwards, lodging itself in a ceiling tile. Lucy stumbled forward and turned around with a shocked look.

“Reese? What the hell–”

Reese fumbled in her jacket and pulled out the .45 again, squeezing off three silenced shots. Shots one and two went into the drywall as she tracked towards Lucy and got thrown off by the recoil, and the third one smacked into Lucy’s thigh.

“Owwwww!” Lucy was knocked on her back.

“If I were you, Lucy, I’d start moving.”

“It hurts, Reese, why?”

“It’s a rubber bullet. Get over yourself.”

Reese dragged Anton and the duffel bag down the hall as Lucy wailed and crawled beside her.

“Lucy,” the intercom crackled again. “Have you heard back about my c-phone yet? I think it’s time for you to...” Rachael paused. “What’s going on out there, Lucy? Why are you crying?”

The smart grenade detonated with a dull thud. Dust from the ceiling tile showered down, and then the lights flickered and went out.

“Lucy! Is anybody else in today?”

“Owwwww!”

Reese picked up the bag and strode down the hall towards Rachael’s office.

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 3

2007-09-02T19:27:00.000-04:00

MONDAY 0917AM
OR78 REGIONAL TRAFFIC RAPIDWAY
GREATER ELIZABETH-IVORY DISTRICT
EASTBOUND

“Look, it’s the best I can do.”

Despite being on a ten lane, four layer superhighway, in the back of a panel truck, and talking on a three year old C-phone’s built in ear wire, she could still hear a hint of a whine in her back agent’s voice.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Jonathan, but we should get preferential treatment at the terminal.”

“Between you and me, AG owns twenty percent of Goldwater Spaceport. But that doesn’t matter. Thanks to Free to Carry, just about everybody there will either be armed or will be with an armed guard. You show up with armor there, you’re going to start a war.”

“Speaking of, shouldn’t I get a suit? That is, like, what I do.”

“We’re kind of short on parts, but I’m doing my best. I’ll have a suit staged and overnighted to you no later than 10AM tomorrow. Unless you need it by seven.”

“Fine. Do you have any information I can use now?”

“Yeah. We were able to get into her c-phone. She ditched it, but we were able to work back and get her ticket purchase. Pan Am Flight 803. It’s a suborbital to Honolulu.”

“I think that’s where her mother lives. That’s not a Zone though. Can we use that for anything?”

“Umm. I should get a c-memo back about that, never mind here it is.”

She turned to Tommy and rolled her eyes, circling her finger around. He chuckled.

“You have it yet, Jonathan?”

“Umm...”

She started tapping the plastic wall panel with her finger, then her fist, and finally just bashing it.

“Uh, Reese? This Rachael Scoll is clean. She even pays her taxes.”

“Damn. We don’t have anything to negotiate with her. If she makes it into Goldwater, we can’t touch her.” She paused. “How much time do we have before boarding calll? Maybe we can grab her in the parking garage.”

“Three hours, no, um, it left two hours ago.”

“What?” She was steadily pounding the dashboard now.

“Hold on a second.”

“Reese, calm down,” growled Tommy.

Three minutes passed.

“I’m sorry, Reese, that was my mistake,” crackled her headset. “Scoll’s flight is scheduled for Friday.”

“Great.” She took a deep breath. “Tommy, can we get this truck turned around? We’re going the wrong way.” To her headset, “Jonathan, let me guess. The c-phone was found in the ditch across the street from Rachael’s house.”

“Let me check the investigator’s report... why yes, it was.” The amount of confusion in Jonathan’s voice raised above its normal baseline.

“She left it on the roof of her car. She always does that. I’m going to drop off now, making other arrangements. I’ll call you back.” She yanked her earpiece out and snapped her c-phone shut.

“OK, Tommy. I know this place. We’re going to go to Rachael’s office and do a plain old smash and grab. Right now, this woman is fat, dumb, and happy. She’ll be waiting at her desk for us. Finally, something’s going our way.”

0957 AM

“Traffic? This late in the morning?” Reese was now at the front of the truck, leaning forward between the two front seats in the cab.

“Construction, ma’am.” The driver, Robert Chavez, was Team 2’s point man.

“You don’t talk much, do you.”

“No, ma’am.”

She let go a sigh of exasperation and turned around.

“Tommy. We should be able to walk from here. Or get a cab. Or something. We’re going to lose this chance.”

“Actually, Reese, I’ve been thinking, and I really don’t feel like it’s my place to go along with your plan without going over it with Rick.”

“You’re kidding. This is my op and I thought that I would be able to rely on your team.”

“Look. I’m not saying I don’t trust your judgment or anything, but-
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll just take what I need and do this myself.”

“But-”

“If Rick or anybody complains about it, tell ‘em it was my first day.”

She had grabbed a duffel bag and was rooting through the gun locker.

“Goddamn M1911, that’s like my grandfather’s gun. Got any rubber bullets for it?”

“They should be on the top–”

“Never mind, got em.” She pulled on a pair of shooting gloves and slammed open the back door. “Tommy, you’ve got the address. Just be there and I’ll find you.”

Not waiting for a response, Reese jumped down to the road and slammed the truck door behind her. She weaved between cars to the shoulder and disappeared over the side.

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 2

2007-08-30T23:51:00.000-04:00

0732 AM
THE OMPHALOS DINER AND GRILL
ROUTE 124 VAUXHALL SKYWAY PLAZA NORTH, NEWARK DISTRICT

“More coffee, please.” Reese gazed idly as the waitress went off to get a coffepot, and shifted around her eggs some more.

“You should finish that, Reese, we’ve got a long day ahead.”

“I can’t even get used to the concept of food before ten in the morning, Rick.”

“Suit yourself.”

“So how busy? When will I meet my team?”

“I’ll let Tommy explain that.”

Tommy wordlessly mopped up the last of his egg yolks with his last piece of toast, stuffed it in his mouth, and downed the last of his grapefruit juice. Reese busied herself counting strands of gray in his black hair.

...seventeen...

“I’ll be honest, Reese. Team One ceased to exist two Thursdays ago. Multiple coordinated hits, all off duty. The youngest guy survived, but he’s in ICU until they figure out how to put all his guts back inside.”

“Shit.”

Rick growled and dropped a twenty next to Tommy’s plate.

“Yeah. So you’re commander now, and we’re flying in a heavy weapons specialist from Europe. She won’t get here until tonight. You and me and Team Two are going to pick up your recon and your intel people today. Check ‘em out.”

Tommy pulled out a smart tablet and put it in the middle of the table. He poked around with his stylus for a couple minutes.

“Goddamn Tabula 96.”

He poked around for a few more minutes.

“Rick, when did you send me that c-memo?”

“Wednesday. No, Thursday. Early afternoon.”

“OK, got it now.”

“Here’s your recon. She’s older, but knows her stuff pretty well. Seems like she’s fallen on hard times, so she’ll be a team player in no time.”

“You’re shitting me.”

The tablet had a c-memo with an embedded photo in the bottom. She grabbed a knife and tapped on the screen until it opened in a full-size window.

It was a woman with an ageless, heart-shaped face. The only tells of her forty years were a few traces of gray in her hair and some crows’ feet. She had eyes so violet that they almost looked purple and without pupils.

“That’s Rachael Scoll.”

“You worked with her?”

“Worked for her until very recently.”

“Small world, isn’t it?” Rick added.

“Excuse me. I, I need to get some fresh air.”

“Sure.”

“Rowr,” whispered Tommy behind her back.

* * *
“Don’t move. Keep acting normal.” It was that voice that Reese heard the other night.

“It’s you, isn’t it? Shaw?”

“You’re handling the situation well. You didn’t tell them about the other night.”

“I’m going to have another one.” She dropped her cig and lit another one with quick, fluid motions.

“Those things will kill you.”

“I’m more afraid of you right now.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

“Thank you.”

“I have a message from our master. You are to keep on doing what you’re doing. Follow your orders from Carless for now.” Shaw paused. “One more thing. He also wants to remind you of your newfound respect for human life. Is that clear?”

Gail gritted her teeth.

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good. I’ll be watching you.”

* * *

“Back from poisoning your lungs, eh?” Rick smiled up at her. “Ready for the next one?”

“Let me guess. Gail Moriarty.”

“Wow.”

“Another friend of yours?” asked Tommy.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Mercury Vapor Peach 4: The Fallen, Part 1

2007-08-30T22:31:00.000-04:00

Part 4: The Fallen

0627 EDT, Monday, 199X
Amboy-Reciprocity Meadows
Terrace D, Unit 48C

“Reese? Reese Bruner?”

Reese was idly flipping an empty pack of cigarettes in her left hand. The front and back were all text:

THESE CIGARETTES WILL KILL YOU PAINFULLY, AND HARM YOUR LOVED ONES. YOU ARE AN IDIOT TO USE THESE.

As were the top and bottom:

WORMLEIGHTON LIGHTS
20 FINE CLASS A FILTERED CIGARETTES
PRODUCT OF THE SOUTHEAST ATLANTIC COMMERCIAL AUTONOMOUS ZONE, USA

She crumpled the box in her hand and looked up. A man in a polo shirt with a buzz cut was leaning towards her across the passenger seat of a generic SUV.

“That’s me.” She stood up. “Are you my new boss?”

“That’s right.” He killed the engine and walked around to her.

Gray hair, late fifties, ex-military. Bet he was a light colonel who retired and needs to pay the bills.

“Welcome to AG Information Security, Reese. Rick Carless.” He extended his hand, and she shook it firmly. “We got your resumé last week and couldn’t sign you on fast enough.”

“Really? It feels like everything happened overnight.”

“The way the business is, we can’t get good people fast enough.” He glanced around quickly. “You look like you’ve been here all night.”

Reese took a final drag and dropped her cig to the ground. She ground it under the heel of a scuffed black trainer and kicked it back towards the concrete stairs, to rest with a dozen more like it. “Feels that way. Nobody said when you’d be coming here, so I figured I’d watch the sunrise.”

Rick grunted. “Figures. HR asked me to give you this.” He handed over a manila folder. “They said they forgot to give the papers to you after you accepted. We’re going for breakfast with Tommy Cohen, he’s the Team Two commander. He’ll help you put together your team.”

“Great! Let me throw this on the table real fast then.”

She bounded up the stairs and inside, checking herself in the mirror quickly.

Jeans and T-shirt are fine. If they want me to do any work, they’ll provide me a suit.

She tossed the folder on the table, and did a double take. There were two folders there among the empty Fresca cans and junk mail. Except one was smeared with blood that had half-coagulated and then dried.

She slowly turned around, examining the kitchen, finally striding out quickly.

Mercury Vapor Peach 3: Wednesday's Child, Part 2

2007-08-29T22:58:00.000-04:00

One minute later:

“Patricia.” The man had regained his composure. “I think you appreciate the trouble you’re in now. You have murdered two-” She opened her mouth to protest, but an upraised finger stayed her. “-security guards. I will grant you that the first one, Carl Rosen, was spur of the moment.” He closed one manila folder, slid it to the side, and opened another one, with notes written on the folder itself. “Andrew Knox, on the other hand, could have been saved by the damage control team you met. Had you not put two rounds in his head.”

He slid the folder aside.

“That was premeditated. In Jersey-Penn, that carries the death sentence. If we were to let you go, we would of course release you to the JP Regional Police, and give them our full assistance to the prosecution. Your parents would hear about it, of course.”

She looked down.

“That’s only one option. We could simply execute you.” He leaned back and regarded her with a slightly puzzled gaze. “Patricia, do you want to die?”

“No, sir.” Her eyes stung. She narrowed them and dabbed the inner corner of one with her thumb.

“Yet you kill without hesitation. Two tonight, and what, five, over your distinguished career?”

“Six. A total of eight.”

“My, you’re a regular assassin, aren’t you? You flit about and slit a throat here and there, and only think about it when your own throat has a knife to it. I wonder what gives you the right to do that?”

“The right? Well, I, I...” she stammered. “This is an autonomous zone! I came here the same reason everybody comes here -- to do well, to get away from all the shit back there,” she pointed over her thumb with her shoulder, “and to take risks. Both times I took a hit on somebody, they had it coming. They knew the risks and they came here anyway. Knox and, and, the other guy, they knew the risks and came here too.”

“And you knew the risks and came here and worked and killed. Yet it’s hard to accept death, isn’t it? You took your chance and lost, so by every right, you should accept death willingly.”

She looked down again.

“Patricia, do you want to die?”

“No. I don’t want to die.”

The man was silent. She looked up at him and he was beaming at her.

“Good. Your death wouldn’t really accomplish anything for me. Let’s talk about your other option. I’m prepared to offer you a job. Competitive pay, a great benefits package, housing.”

“What do I do?”

“Squad leader. Hot infiltration. Same things you do now, but with more responsibility. Competitive pay, best benefits in the market, and housing is included too. But there is one thing.” He held out a manila folder to her and she reached out to take it from his hand.

Her hand passed over the edge of the desk.

Suddenly her heart was a ball of pain and she couldn’t breathe. She collapsed on the floor, clawing at her chest.

“Leave her alone! Shaw, stop!”

The pain was gone.

“Yes, sir,” the voice that woke her responded, coming from no particular place in the room.

“Anyway, pick up that folder.” She opened the folder and found two large glossy photographs. One was of a compact, black-haired man with a redheaded woman and a baby. The other one was a chubby bald man holding a plastic cup. “The first one is Carl Rosen, survived by his widow, Stephanie, and their daughter Ashley. Your wages will be garnished to provide her child support. By the way, Ashley is now three years old, and she’s a redhead like her mother. You’ll like them.”

“I’m not going to meet them, am I?”

“Of course you are. You’ll be visiting them for one hour every week, starting next Saturday.”

“Does... she know yet?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Rosen’s supervisor has already given her the news. I’ll expect you to introduce yourself at the funeral next week. And explain why you killed the man.”

“But I can’t-”
“This is a requirement of your employment.” The man frowned slightly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Andrew Knox, on the other hand, died single. His mother is in a nursing home in the Old City, so I expect you to visit her once a month. I do expect you to break the news to this one.”

She nodded weakly. He beamed at her and slid the last folder across the desk to her.

“Other than that, well, here is your new contract. We weren’t sure how your penmanship would be after your ordeal, so we’ve gone ahead and put your signature on it. Do you accept employment with AG?”

“I...” She swallowed her words. “Yes, sir.”

“Welcome aboard!” He held out his hand, and she shook it. Nothing happened. “Your new manager will pick you up from your home on Monday.”

She glanced around the room. There were still no visible doors.

“Sir, may I ask a question?”

“Of course, Reese.”

“What exactly do you do?”

“Let’s just say I’m responsible for security.” The stack of folders was now on the corner of his desk, and he was reading through a leather-bound planner. “And I apologize that we can’t use a tranquilizer on you this time. We definitely can’t have you forgetting this conversation. See you around!”

“The old man likes you.” The voice was in her ear again. “But I’ll have my eyes on you.”

Suddenly she was on the floor, her head ringing with pain. She blacked out.

* * *

“I don’t know, honey. Something about ‘beef roast’.” There was the beep and snap of a C-phone being closed.

Reese groaned and opened her eyes. She was in the back seat of a large sedan.

“Oh, you’re awake. Here we are.” A burly but cheerful driver was looking back at her from the front seat. “Need a hand? You look like you partied pretty hard.”

She was still in her bodysuit and the blood soaked jacket.

“I think I’m okay. Damn, my head is killing me.”

“Well, drink lots of fluids. And take asprin, not ibruprofen. That stuff doesn’t work well with neurostatic sedatives.”

“Uh, ok. Thanks.” She stumbled out of the car, and in the dawn’s light she saw that she was in front of her townhouse. As she limped her way up the stairs, she absentmindedly rummaged through the jacket’s pockets. She fished out her housekey and opened up the front door.

“Have a good one!” yelled the driver, and he was off.

She walked into the kitchen and looked down at the key in her hand, and then threw it as hard as she could at the wall.

“Fuck it.”

With a sudden burst of speed, she ran up to the cabinet, grabbed a jar from the back of the top shelf, knocking down several cans of soup that clattered on the countertop. She unscrewed the jar and pulled out a plastic bag. On the plastic bag, in neat black marker letters were written:

YOU CAN ONLY QUIT IF YOU CAN HONESTLY TELL YOURSELF THAT YOU NEVER WANT TO SMOKE ANOTHER CIGARETTE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

She ripped the bag open and pulled out a half-empty pack of Wormleightons and a disposable lighter. Curled up against the dishwasher, she lit up, took a drag, and exhaled.

Reese let go a wordless scream, and then quietly sobbed in the morning sun.

All That Rises Must Converge

2007-07-28T11:51:00.000-04:00

OK, so you have a famous hip hop artist, and you team him up with a pair of French techno musicians who like to dress up like robots. What do you need to do to make a music video?

Crib key scenes from Akira!

Retread of Evangelion

2007-07-24T23:07:00.000-04:00

So here's the trailer for the latest latest revisiting of Evangelion, this time with every single frame lovingly drawn with tiny details that only show up on the high detailed version over here.

Hopefully this means they only leave in the parts that kick ass. And no, Asuka does not STRIKES until part 2.

Mercury Vapor Peach 3.1: Wednesday's Child, Part 1

2007-07-16T22:45:00.000-04:00

Somewhere in the 1990s...

Reese awoke with a yelp. She started forward as if she were walking up stairs in the dark and had stepped forwards into the air. But she was seated, and she couldn’t move. A neutral, metallic voice spoke into her ear.

“Stay calm. Don’t move. You were hit with a roofing nail, and we have just given you a recovery shot. Voluntary muscle control will come back shortly, at which time you will be free to remove your hood.” Reese gurgled. “Hear this now. We are watching you. If you make any threatening moves, we will kill you. There is someone who wants to talk to you. Listen to him.”

The voice was gone.

She thought back to when she was on the evac elevator, and started counting streetlamps. After losing count four times and getting to thirty-five, she noticed that she was moving each finger with the digits. She reached up and pulled off the hood.

She was in a cavernous, wood paneled room. There were no windows. A man sat at a desk in front of her.

He was in a brown wool suit, and wore a bright blue bow tie. He had a full head of hair and a close-cropped beard, all white.

The man held a manila folder in his hand, and was leafing through the pages contained within it. There were no other papers on his desk, or in the room. There were no visible computers or televisions. She glanced around, and saw there were no doors, either.

The man looked up and gazed at her thoughtfully. One clear blue eye met her gaze, the other spasmodically drifting up to the side. He smiled and laid the folder on his bare desk.

“If I had known that you were up, I wouldn’t have made you wait.”

“Where am I?”

The man cracked open his mouth to voice an answer, and paused. When he spoke, it was slow and deliberate.

“My forces had to administer a tranquilizer to you, to prevent you from further harming yourself while in our care.” Reese suddenly noticed that her shoulder was very itchy. “Don’t touch that, you’ll only open the wound.

“The tranquilizer we gave you is fairly new. In fact, it’s unique in that it is impossible to overdose. The tradeoff is that your short term memory is wiped out in the process. On the neurological level. The last few hours are lost to you forever.”

He let this sink in, and continued.

“What was the last thing you remembered? Be honest.”

“I acquired... stole–” He smiled at this. “–a damage control vehicle and was attempting to escape.”

The man nodded, opened the folder, and turned over two pages of handwritten notes.

“That lines up with the time the tranquilizer was administered.” He scanned a few lines. “To summarize, you encountered Security’s Heavy Response Team B. They were acting outside of their authority, and took out the better part of a commercial zone going after you. Seventeen employees were injured, and another one-hundred fifty-four were injured. I believe another three will have died of complications before the evening is over.

“On a small side note, as good as you are with an infiltration suit, you are a terrible shot with a pistol.

“At that point, my forces intervened. The offending members of HRT-B were executed for their actions. I have taken you into my custody for your actions.”

“My actions? My mission was–”

“Incomplete? A setup? Of course. I’m not talking about your mission. I’m talking about Carl Rosen and Andrew Knox.”

“Who?” Reese was confused.

The man was suddenly seething with rage. He bolted upright and pointed at her.

“Look at your jacket, Patricia!”

“How, how did you know my name?” she stammered. He continued to stare at her. She looked away, and then looked down at her jacket.

She was still wearing the jacket she had taken off the security guard back in the gatehouse. An embroidered name tag was sewn to the right breast pocket. KNOX.

“Oh. Fuck.”

Dinner and Breakfast

2007-07-08T21:00:00.000-04:00

Carmine's is still good old Carmine's down in Southstreet, though not on South Street. The escarole was good, but lacks the prosciutto and bread kick of the dish as made at Delmonico's back home. The tiramisu, as some are wont to say, was to die for.

What I didn't do last night was to watch Ratatouille, because we couldn't find a theater in the vicinity of Union Square that was showing it. So we went to Burp Castle again, and the beer was perfect.

On the train into NYC I came to love Breakfast of Champions, and on the train back to where I'm staying, I finished it. It was in one magical moment that everything up to that point snapped into focus for me, and it stopped being mean and petty and became a melancholy, grand thing.

Before that point, it was cynical and aphoristic to the point of self-parody. And seems as if that was Vonnegut's intent from the outset, as if he were tired of writing these bitter stories that weren't getting him any closer to putting his own life issues to rest, and just wanted to get everything out and done with.

Although it was an amazing experience when the book was over, I have to wonder if it was successful in his eyes – he graded it a C in Palm Sunday, after all. All the same, it was worth it in the end, like all his books, when the snarkiness falls away and there is nothing left but cold truth and tears.

History Repeating

2007-07-07T14:56:00.000-04:00

This time, one year ago, we had a bit of a memorable dinner at the other Carmine's in Southstreet in NYC. I'll be repeating that, but only with Mr. B. Bort and papabear, I'll raise my manhattan to you in your absence.

Much to my chagrin, I found out why, exactly, Madison has become the #3 baby girl's name this decade: the eponymous mermaid (named after the avenue) of the movie Splash. The world now appears to me as a slightly worse place for knowing this. Likewise, the name Victoria's popularity can be directly correlated with the popularity of Victoria's Secret. What's in a name? Don't go there.

Goth baby name pages are great reading. Who would have thought that Dante is far more popular than Lucifer for boys? Dachan also pondered the efficacy of goths married with children, to which I put forth the Addams Family: a normal fifties mainstream family, except they dress in black and complain about nice things. Oh, brave new world, which has such people in it.

Well, off to NYC. Will be online in a little bit.

Dinner of Champions

2007-07-04T01:32:00.000-04:00

After being downstate for over a week now, I've finally made my way into NYC for dinner and catching-up time with Mister B, whom I've known since high school. On a smaller scale from last year, we visited the sui generis bar, Burp Castle. Bort, you missed out on the framboise lambic, perhaps next year.

The Strand was as great as ever; I went in looking for some Eddas and some Waugh novels and came out with PKD's Eye in the Sky, an armload of Jonathan Lethem novels (he's the current heir apparent to PKD), and a fascinating concept of a novel from my old favorite, Iain Banks, set in a corporation as old as civilization.

On the train I got halfway through Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions, and I have to say that I don't think that it's his best work so far. With its frequent ellipses and crude illustrations, it's maybe 200 pages of text (mostly satiric aphorisms, I suppose) trapped in a 350-page book. I should be able to finish it in a couple hours and report back.

Went to a delicious if overpriced steakhouse. The steak was perfect, though the sides were by necessity sparse (stupid a la carte serves two) and the check about double what I would normally expect. And I was also fairly certain that a family meal cooked at home would have tasted almost as good.

Afterwards, swung by the Kwik-E-Mart (née 7-Eleven) on 42nd Street out by the Port Authority. It is one of twelve total conversions in anticipation of the much-ballyhooed feature film, and they had Krusty-Os and Squishees on sale. (They were out of Buzz Cola, alas) I'm not really looking forward to the movie, as I thought the show stopped being funny at least five years ago... perhaps more your thing, papabear?

Mercury Vapor Peach: Part 2.2 (TANGO FOXTROT PART 2)

2007-07-03T08:00:00.000-04:00

199X, 0238 HOURS
ARC 3, 214TH FLOOR, EXECUTIVE RESIDENTIAL COMMERCE ZONE UNICORN-A4

“We’re just getting there now, dispatch. Looks like lighting is down for this area. You hear back from Environmental on what’s going on in there?”

The silence of the early morning was broken by the whine of an electric motor and a dozen one-sided conversations.

“Just flip the breakers for the whole section! We need eyes!”

“Goddamn it three minute cycle isn’t good enough for rapid response! They could have lit off a bomb in there.”

“It’s what I’ve been telling them for the last year! If anyone is dead I’m, yeah, ok, but this isn’t the last—”

“No we won’t wait for the response team from security! What’s their ETA?”

“Bill who? Yeah, wake his ass up!”

“Figures the generators are down. What do they need a fifty ton elevator for anyway?”

“What?”

“Losing you.”

“A platoon of what?”

“I can’t hear you so I’ll hook into a trunk when I get to the site.”

“Love you.”

“Goddamn headset.”

“We’re here!”

The battery powered truck snapped to a halt, and the DC team fanned out.

“Net is down around here, switch over to loudspeaker.”

“Foam standpipe is wet, cutting all water.”

“Oxygen level’s low but climbing. Something burned in here, but HVAC is taking care of it.”
“Keep your masks on. There could still be NBC. And somebody kill those alarms!”

“But what if this is a robbery, boss?”

“Let em take what they can carry. That’s security’s problem. Get back to work.”

“Boss, we found a survivor!”

“I’m ok. Get off me.”

“You’ve been through a lot, sister, just calm down. You’re going to fall over.”

The DC boss glanced over. It was a security guard, and she was beat up pretty bad.

She’s covered with blood, must be a bloody nose from the explosion, blood just smeared all over her mouth and chin and her jacket and her jacket’s all torn to shreds. It’s a miracle she survived that bomb.

“Boss, we got two more back here. They’re both goners. There’s broken glass and blood everywhere and this guy’s brains are, urk–”

This must be Jen’s first time seeing a body, this must be some sort of terrorist attack, maybe we should have waited for security to bring that team up here and, where did that other guard go, there she is, something funny about her and I don’t know what and, oh—

The DC boss looked the guard up and down. She had a pro’s posture, with a mop of brown hair cut short, and a torn SECURITY jacket, and tight black leggings of some sort with socks. Not standard guard uniform slacks. He gritted his teeth and looked into whiskey eyes.

Crazy gold eyes, my cousin calls ‘em.

The woman, who was obviously not security, nodded slightly, and showed him an inch of the pistol she held under her jacket. He nodded back.

“I’ve had a long day, and I just want to go home,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “You want to go home too, don’t you?” She tossed her head towards the DC truck. “Is that golf cart ready to go?”

“Just take it before things get complicated.”

“Have a good one.”

The DC team watched, dumbfounded, as the truck clumsily turned around and headed back down the access corridor.

“Are you OK, boss? What happened back there?”

“I thought I was going to shit my pants. I think I just met our terrorist.”

“Boss, those are bullet wounds. Those two security guards were shot.”

“Boss, I just got Security on the line. The power’s back on. They’re sending up the HRT B-team with the fifty ton lift.”

“Guys, just get the place cleaned up for Facilities. We’re going to have one long report to file.”

Department of Records

2007-07-02T22:46:00.000-04:00

My time away from the office is half over, already, with me driving back a week from Wednesday. It's been pretty cold the last couple days for July. But I'm not complaining.

The book that I've been trying to read is Wagner's Ring of the Nibelung: A Companion, (ISBN: 0500281947) an exhaustive companion book that contains a full intralinear translation of all four operas which make up the cycle, as well as exhaustive notes and research to assist in the epic task of experiencing it.

Which makes me glad that I'm at least partways through The Children of Odin, because otherwise I would be completely bewildered. And yes, I appreciate the irony that a children's book from eighty years ago is more educational than most adult's books from the last ten. Totally independent of the great art deco illustrations.

In the meantime, then, while I work I have been listening to the remarkable album of Catalan soprano, Victoria de los Ángeles. Inspired to root through the archives of vinyl in my parents' basement, I came across it and have been playing it nonstop on the record player.

It seems like there's something different about the divas of old that just isn't the case today... they didn't used to sound so, I don't know... beefy?

Mercury Vapor Peach: Part 2.1: TANGO FOXTROT

2007-07-02T22:35:00.000-04:00

Part 2.1

0237 HOURS, 199X ARC 3, 214TH FLOOR, EXECUTIVE RESIDENTIAL BLOCK 17-A, GATE E4

“Three hundred sixty-seven...”

Reese’s HUD flashed a single red icon in the middle of the field of view. BATTERY DEPLETED. With a click and hiss, the suit locks released, and she wiggled until her suit had ratcheted open. She flopped out of it onto her belly, spun around and groped the inside of her suit for her emergency kit, and turned to figure out her surroundings, head still ringing from the explosion.

Pop open the SNAFU case, check for what’s useful. Five mil, grab a clip, lock and load.

She popped the 5mm pistol out, cocked it, and slammed in a 23-round clip. Old school tritium dot iron sights, just like she liked it.

Dust still clearing, lot of moisture in the air still, puddles, Gail must have dropped that FOAB right in the fountain. What’s that buzzing, coming from everywhere, not fire alarm, dammit I’m in the middle of a mall.

Gate E4 fronted a commercial zone. She saw several terraced levels of shops, the windows all burst in. Security alarms were ringing everywhere.

Those guys were pretty heavily armed for mall cops. No, that’ can’t be right. Losing focus. She willed herself to focus on something, anything. Compunet C-Carrier. Next up – C-phone.

She grabbed the bulky c-phone from her kit, stared at it for a second, and hurled it towards the middle of the demolished fountain.

God knows what Gail did to that thing. Rachael probably has it bugged. I should call her.

A fireball belched out of a liquor store.

Damage control will be here first. Gotta move.

She grabbed several more clips, and tried to stuff them into nonexistent pockets. She was still in her ES suit, skintight and little more than a liquid barrier between her skin and the armor. Grunting, she pulled on a pair of treaded socks over her closed-toe suited feet, and strapped on the holster.

Shoes, belt, gun, ammo. I don’t even care if Gail bugged my shoes. Gotta move.

Reese stood up and staggered.

Dizzy. Maybe the shock, probably just lazy from being in suit all night.

She saw a long corridor stretching out into the darkness. A flashing light and screaming siren approached from the distance.

All the lights must be blown out. Finally something working in my favor, don’t blow advantage.

She stumbled back towards the security shed.

Stupid trick is better than nothing.

Earth, Wind, and Stormtrooper

2007-07-02T12:15:00.000-04:00

Hey look, it's a dancing stormtrooper in Tokyo

The Japanese, being pathologically averse to acknowledging such things, tend to ignore these happy goings-on. I thought there would be a full-blown Austin Powers moment, what with a crowd of loli goth catgirl maid cosplay girls and the passers-by all joining in for a minute, but then they got sheepish and ran away.

I don't think that it would have been much different if a stormtrooper danced in times square. (Apologies to Vera Lynn)

Seems as if Star Wars has been commoditized, to the point that in another few years (after GL's inevitable return to the Force) that it would become a generic "star wars" to describe space opera at large.

MVP: Part 1 Debrief

2007-07-01T01:20:00.000-04:00

OK, so I've gotten Part 1 of MVP done. I know it's kind of rough around the edges, but I've had this story in my head for too long and I need to get it down and out there.

For me, the writing process is kind of like oncology: I have this golfball sized tumor in my head, and the writing process is me putting myself on the table and cutting this thing out of my skull, and then putting it in a dish and showing it off.

I realize that Reese is kind of a cipher at this point, but that's fine. After all, she's a person who is good at her job and doesn't really do much else. But so far, everyone seems to think that it's perfectly reasonable to double cross and kill her, and that she would be crazy and selfish to seek out vengeance.

Maybe they're right.

Stay tuned, kids!

Mercury Vapor Peach: Part 1.4

2007-07-01T01:07:00.001-04:00

0231 HOURS, 199X
ARC 3, 214TH FLOOR, EXECUTIVE RESIDENTIAL BLOCK 17-A, GATE E4

“Reese, don’t even try moving.”

“Gail?”

“I shut off power to your inertial brakes. They’re locked now. You’ll burn out your ring motors if you try to move.”

“If this is about you making a stupid mistake–”

“I’ve set your suit to pop in about ten minutes. It will be unusable, but at least you have a fighting chance to get out of here.”

“Are you a mole? A plant? When I make it out of here I’m going to find you.”

Gail walked into Reese’s field of view, holding the remains of her rifle.

“You made things too complicated, but it’s nothing we didn’t plan for. It’s too bad nobody will ever see that somersault.” She gingerly held a 1.5” floppy up in front of Reese’s visor, and deliberately crushed it in her armored hand. “If you do make it out of here alive, please don’t come after me. I was just doing my job. This is all Rachael.”

“This isn’t, no, Rachael can’t be doing this! I’m the senior operative! I trained everybody on the squad! I made us what we are today, after everyone else got killed last year–”

“And you also worked for Gencom before you started with the company.”

“That was five years ago! What–”

“Look, Reese, I like you a lot more now. It’s been good, even though you, well, that’s not important.” Gail was now behind Reese, popping open the suit’s panels and rooting around in the computer bay. “The guy we were going to take out? That guy is the customer. He hired us to stage a failed smash and grab and set up Gencom to take the fall. You have the right background for it, and we knew you wouldn’t go for it, so this is what we did.”

“You and Rachael, right?”

“Well, you’re just too good at what you do. You’ve biased the market against hot infiltrations. Cold is the way to go.”

“Hot infiltrations were never a problem for me.”

“That’s the problem. Everybody else in our outfit looks bad, and nobody else will take them anymore. You’re indispensible. In the Henry Ford sense.”

“Henry Ford went to his factory one day,” Reese knew the story, too. Rachael liked to tell it. “Everybody was standing around outside. He asked why nobody was making cars, and a foreman told him that one guy was out sick and only he could do his job. So what did Henry Ford do?”

“He asked his foremen, ‘Who are all the indispensable people?’ and they came up with three men,” replied Gail, falling into the rhythm of Rachael’s telling. “He fired them on the spot, and told everyone in the factory to learn their jobs.”

“We can’t have any indispensable people.”

“Yeah, Rachael told me the story again before she asked me to put together this op. The whole thing went so smoothly because our customer gave us passwords, schedules, everything. It was all there already, but we would never have figured out where to look.”

“I should have known Rachael would pull this on me.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Reese. We all have a skullduggery clause in our contracts. Your beneficiary will get your no-fault fatality payout and that will be that. Who’s your beneficiary anyway?”

“My parents.”

“Figures. You don’t really do that much outside of work. You should have asked out that guy in operations.”

“Why are you–”

“You don’t, you know, swing the other way, do you? We have this bet, and–”

“No, I’m straight! Why am I even–”

“OK, enough small talk. Here’s the plan.” Gail held up what looked like a miniature white road cone with red stripes around it. “This is a fuel-air explosive bomb. I am going to put it in the middle of that courtyard there. I’d suggest you stay in your suit until after it goes off.” She held it up and deliberately pulled the arming pin. “So this thing goes off and trips the alarms everywhere.

“Oh, I should mention that I’ve had their security system failing since we made it to this level. It should crash around the time the bomb goes off, and when they reload it, they’ll see two dead guards. They’ll send up a rapid response team with full blown warsuits, and they will want blood. If they find you, they will kill you.”

“Go to hell. I’m going to find you. And Rachael. And the rest of you.”

“Why do you have to be like this? This is hard for me too.” Gail gave Reese’s suit a shove, and she fell to the floor with a clatter. Reese was eye to eye with one of the guards now. “You’ve made a mess of things and I’ve got to change a bunch of stuff so it looks like there was only one of us, and now you’re being a bitch about the whole thing. Get over yourself. You think you have the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. You don’t even know what it’s like to have a daughter. Well I do, and it isn’t easy. Just shut up. Shut up!”

And then Reese's audio cut out, and she was alone.

iWant?

2007-06-30T23:44:00.000-04:00

So it looks like the iPhone has lived up to the hype, and then some. It's here, it works, and it's rumored to be indestructible.

But I don't have six hundred dollars to spend on a phone, so I've come up with a list of things it doesn't have, that matter to me, so that I'll wait for the second generation iPhone:

It doesn't have a GPS receiver. So for turn based directions to work, I have to tell it when I'm turning. Now, that isn't any different from using Google Maps printouts and my odometer, but the latter is a lot cheaper.
It doesn't have 3G. So that means that it is slow when not on a wireless network, which would be me using it most of the time.
It doesn't look like I can use iTunes songs for ringtones. Why set my ringer to be a song I already have, when I could pay three dollars for a thirty second low quality clip? It's not a big deal, but it rubs me the wrong way.
No IM. Do I really want to burn cash on SMS messages?
It's $600. That's, like, half a laptop. I already spent my Apple money for the year.

Mercury Vapor Peach: Part 1.3

2007-06-30T23:27:00.000-04:00

0230 HOURS, 199X
ARC 3, 214TH FLOOR, EXECUTIVE RESIDENTIAL BLOCK 17-A, GATE E4

“I can’t believe you listen to Stone Temple Pilots. They’re like Pearl Jam for dummies or something,” the security guard taunted his partner.

“H–” grunted his partner, whose chest was now erupting in fist-size divots of cloth and flesh. In the span of a second that felt like hours, the guard carefully worked out what was happening.

What’s happening to Carl? There are chunks of him flying out at me. He’s getting shot! The chunks are coming out of him, which means that the shooter is behind him. He’s got his back to the window, so the shooter must be on the other side of the window. That makes sense, because I can also hear the window shattering. I don’t hear any gunshots, so no sonic boom is slow large caliber ammo. I don’t want to get shot. I’ll drop to the floor, and hit the alarm button.

The guard dropped on his stomach, and quickly swung his back up against the cabinet doors of the guard console. He fumbled around with his left hand and tried to hit the big emergency call button on the console.

I’m definitely hitting the call button but it isn’t responding. That’s strange because we just replaced the batteries and tested it last Tuesday, which would be– Oh. It’s wireless. The shooter must be jamming. So large caliber subsonic weapons plus jammer must mean that the shooter is probably in an infiltration suit they work in pairs there are two shooters I have to close the door and lay down covering fire if they have grenades they won’t use them they are infiltrators so why are they opening fire we would have missed them–

There was a crunch and the wall opposite the door dented in under the force of a military grade suit. Its surface shimmered as its camouflage adapted to changing lighting and background. The guard stared into a yawning gun barrel and then the faceless helmet of the suit, his mouth still moving as he worked through the events.

0230 HOURS, 199X
ARC 3, 214TH FLOOR, EXECUTIVE RESIDENTIAL BLOCK 17-A, GATE E4

Reese gingerly poked her gun barrel past the edge of the wall. Integrated onto the barrel was a tiny camera on a flexible stalk, feeding back into her helmet. She tensed, but was careful to pull back her gun slowly.

“Gail, there’s some kind of guard station in there, next to the doors. It doesn’t show up in the plans you pulled, how old are those anyway? Pay attention–”

Reese stood slackjawed as Gail deliberately strode past her around the corner, weapon ready.

What does Gail think she is doing? She is going to compromise us. Maybe that kid sees something I don’t, but the thermals showed at least one person in that guard station and we should find a different way–

Alerts started to go off in Reese’s HUD.

Tactical net connection lost, jamming, we’ve been caught, the mission is a no go, start pulling back now! No wait, position is Gail, Gail is going full ECM but why, is there some threat she what was that noise Gail is firing weapons free stupid kid they are going to sound an alert move now just act–

With a practiced, fluid motion, Reese crouched down like she was cocking springs in her legs and tensed her jaw. She felt the sting of a milligram of synthetic adrenaline injected into her arm and a hum behind her kidneys as the suit’s ASA gyros spun up, and leapt forward.

In one graceful move she vaulted in a shallow arc past the corner and was in flight in front of Gail’s face. Swinging down her arm like a scythe, she smashed Gail’s rifle with a forearm to the action. She continued falling towards a fountain in the middle of a large open courtyard, reached forwards, and somersaulted to the other end of the shallow pool.

With several broad steps she ran towards the guardhouse, litttle more than a windowed booth built into what had been an alcove in the wall. The door was still ajar.

Not enough time to grab rifle, stuck in harness on back. Backup pistol under buckler on left arm, go sideways, cover interior of guardroom, take everyone down before anyone hears but the gun will be heard but I can’t think have to act make it through the door act one step at a time–

The guardroom door was open. She came through it sideways, smashing into the wall with her shoulder, instantly locking her opposite knee and holding her pistol at the ready. A guard slouched against the guard console, one arm upstreched as he slapped a mute panic button. The other guard was sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood.

The alarm the alarm just act.

Two shots rang out.

Time started to pass again at normal speed.

She tried to prop herself up, but her suit stayed rigid, ring motors whining in protest. Then her HUD went dark. Her headset crackled.

“Reese, don’t even try moving.”

Far from the Maddening Crowd

2007-06-30T20:54:00.001-04:00

Something I've started doing since last year has been taking a couple weeks away from the job to dogsit for my folks. Last year, I was able to sever all connections, to relax, and to take stock of my circumstances. In part because of this refocusing, I've become a workaholic and haven't been able to get much reading done, other than a children's book on Norse mythology:

It's a fine book, and it's doing wonders in helping me unlearn all the crazy stuff from Valkyrie Profile, but I was hoping to read all sorts of things that require a bit more attention. But attention is the one thing I'm short on these days.

I've been giving another go at recovering We Were Nerds, but it almost seems like it would be more trouble than it is worth. Besides, I've been distancing myself from pure nerdliness in favor of, say, something else. Like a greater appreciation for literature by revisiting my various (neglected) reading lists from school, or knocking the rust off my knowledge of Andrew Jackson, or working on talking coherently about politics, or becoming versed in bossa nova.

Though on the other hand, I am looking to revitalize The Critical Fan, perhaps as a collaborative venue for discussing my less mainstream or high-minded interests. And also to write longer, more well-thought out articles for it.

On that note, I should probably write a post about why, exactly, I'm always talking about Jackson. For now, off to get some ribs and to fix a door.

8 Things About Me

2007-06-29T19:36:00.000-04:00

So papabear "tagged" me the other week and didn't even leave a comment.

The Rules:

1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

Here are my 8 facts.

I like having things for a long time. My life tends to be divisible into neat three to four year chunks. Having things that are over three years old gives me some continuity. For example: I have a leather jacket I got for Christmas in 1996. I have a slightly-chipped mug from a 20s-themed production of Twelfth Night (what other kind of production is there?) from Shakespeare in the Park in Westerly, RI from 1997.
I will spend more money on something that will last a long time, so I won't lose it. It doesn't have to be lavish, just something with a cost of replacement high enough for me to never, ever misplace it, or if I do misplace it, to drop everything until I find it. I have a Waterman ballpoint pen, and a classic Zippo.
Whenever I use my zippo, middle aged women tell me it reminds them of their fathers.
I have this painting hanging over where I work. I can never remember who did it or what it is called, but I grew up with it on the wall. This Christmas I dug it up from my parents' basement and got it on permanent loan from my father.
Andrew Jackson has gotten a lot of criticism over the years, but he's become a kind of personal hero to me. He was intelligent, fierce, self-made, and fiscally responsible, yet a fighter for the little guy. And a redhead. I wrote my bachelor's thesis on his fiscal policy. Most importantly, though, he represents an America that might have been – a nation of aggressive, independent self-made men (and women, yes) who succeed only with their own talents and a spirit of do-it-yourself.
I am a total pushover for women with bangs.
The author with the largest number of books on my shelf is easily Philip K. Dick. I was sold on him since reading The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch in high school. The authors who have lost the most esteem in my eyes as I got older are Tom Clancy and Michael Crichton. There is nothing in common between chaos theory and dinosaurs other than appearing in the same issue of Scientific American.
I was never any good at musical instruments. If I had any particular musical talent, it was being very good at playing music badly.

I can't really choose anybody. Pretty much everyone I know either does not blog or is Papabear. Rasu, if you're out there, I tag you, because I say so, but I don't really see that happening.

To the rest of you, cheers!

Peter's Index: All Sound the Same

2007-06-29T18:57:00.000-04:00

Late Nineties rock/alt songs by certain bands that have one song that sounds like every song.

Everclear: They all sound pretty good, actually
The Presidents of the United States: Dachan thinks they hated music. I think he's right. But they liked peaches, and I like that too.
Green Day: I can't even tell which track from Dookie is playing, so I'm probably not the right guy to say. But I should stop listening to that song from American Idiot that has the one part where everyone goes "Hey!" and I want to pump my fist. Once.
The Offspring: I liked "Pretty Fly" when it was called "Come Out and Play". Though they did do that one song that sounded kind of like "Smells Like Teen Spirit" except it was funny and I actually wanted to listen to it.
What's-her-face from Sneaker Pimps on that one album Becoming X. She was, like, the only reason that I listen to songs by them that sound like "6 Underground". They shouldn't have gotten rid of her.

Late Nineties alternative outfits with cute female lead singers I'd rather listen to.

Sneaker Pimps: see above.
The Cardigans: Kind of like Abba, except it doesn't make me want to cut myself in half, lengthwise. And they have that cover of "Iron Man" that everybody seems to want to forget.
Fleming and Jean: They sound like the Cardigans, and for some reason got classified on CDDB as "Christian", but are fun with more ironic lyrics. I don't see any other songs about Steinbeck short stories out there.
Hooverphonic: Imagine if all James Bond songs were about iconic power plants or fish.
Delgados: songs that sound nice but

Coronation Marches:

"Crown Imperial" — Sir William Walton's one hit wonder, this is so awesome that American marching bands play it.
I'll say it again. Awesome.
"Orb and Scepter" — All of Walton's other marches sound just like "Crown Imperial" but not as good. If only he did a song about peaches.

Two Albums, a Phone Service, and a Sandwich

2007-06-29T06:44:00.000-04:00

"Meu Samba Torto" — Clara Moreno (feat. Celso Fonseca & Joyce)

I saw this album on the iTunes store or something, but picked up a meatspace copy of it, and I love it. Moreno has a playful, clear voice, and this is some back to basics bossa with the bare minimum of guitar and sometimes drums. Great stuff. Check out the video for "Litorânea":

and also "Ela Vai Pro Mar":

Casa —Morelenbaum²/Sakamoto

Also got a version with two live bonus tracks. Still my favorite bossa nova group.

Vonage with the UTStarcomm F1000 WiFi headset:

I have a phone, and it connects to my wireless LAN. It's like a super cordless phone in that it doesn't get static like a regular phone (going over data network), I can call pretty much anywhere I want for free, and it's compact. It's also dorky like my Nokia candy bar on AT&T TDMA like ten years ago, but it gets the job done.

The Baconator — Wendy's

Finally, everything I like about Wendy's burgers without all the other stuff I don't. Meat, bacon, cheese, and that's pretty much it.

Because once you hear it...

2007-06-22T01:41:00.001-04:00

...you just have to sing it to the end.

Duck, you sucker!

2007-06-20T20:18:00.000-04:00

All Points

2007-06-17T15:17:00.000-04:00

What could end the universe faster than a Family Guy Star Wars parody epsisode?

Robot chicken doing it.

Gee Whiz

2007-06-11T06:54:00.000-04:00

I sure am glad I never got into the Sopranos, from the angry fan reaction to the series finale.

As far as I am concerned, the gangster movie is based upon nemesis – every criminal lord has his expiration date, every dog his day. This is what makes Godfather Part II essential to Godfather Part I, or Goodfellas as good as it is.

That's why when people ask me about Sopranos, I say I'll only watch the episode where Tony gets whacked. And it sounds like that episode will never come.

Well, that could happen in the feature film.

Duck, you sucker!

2007-06-11T00:12:00.001-04:00

So I can't figure out why exactly 009-1 (which looks like a sequel to Cyborg 009 but actually isn't) isn't worth watching. It's all early manga stovepipe-limbs and strange noses, and it's about improbably-proportioned female spy cyborgs killing and seducing their way to mission completion in a future never-ending cold war. It's like it's trying to be taken seriously but doing a bad job of it. First episode free to watch if you must. At least it's better than the soap opera dating sim show I watched a couple months ago.

Ninja Scroll Highlander DVD is out. I guess that's cool. I didn't get it though. Got some Sergio Leone westerns instead.

Saw Princess Mononoke again today and was floored by how well everything fit together. More thoughts later.

Sergio Leone's 1972 western Duck, You Sucker! is good stuff, so far, but too long for one sitting. It was a great moment finding out that it was in the 1900s and not the 1870s. Still, it feels like a movie made much later than it was, for all its obscenity and sensibilities.

Cibo Matto 1999!

2007-06-09T21:19:00.000-04:00

Miho Hattori, straight outta purgatory, is out with a new solo album, with the single "Barracuda" currently making the YouTube rounds. No relation to the classic by Heart:

In the blink-and-you-miss-it vibrant world of latter 1990s popular music, she was half of the Japanese expat NYC alt-hip-hop duo Cibo Matto. I blinked a lot back then, and missed them, until I saw the video for their breakout hit "Sugar Water":

As you can see, it was directed by Michel "Eternal Sunshine" Gondry, so it plays through kind of like Memento but crazier and with more slightly broken English. First, check out the live footage of "Sci-Fi Wasabi":

And then for the control, the original album version with some Super Mario action.

Hax!!!!1!11!one!

And remember, know your chicken:

The Papabear Connection

2007-06-09T15:21:00.000-04:00

On a first note, I got the first two TPBs of the grand GN The Red Star this week, and digested both of them in a single evening.

The artwork is great, yet not that much happens in terms of plot over these two volumes. It's obsessed with overwrought internal monologues full of emotion. Yet that's the way I would probably end up writing a comic book about Soviets with magical powers and airships.

And now for four movies whose trailers Papabear has kicked my way:

I Am Legend – The crowd scenes of War of the Worlds, the alone time scenes of Cast Away, and a performance from Will Smith that is more "powerful" than "sassy". In other words, total oscar bait. I have the book, and I plan on reading it before 12/14 this year so I can be the most qualified to complain about it.
American Gangster – Hey, look! It's Denzel Washington as a well-dressed, well-spoken crime lord of the seventies! Hey, look! It's Russell Crowe as a rogue cop on the edge trying to take Denzel down! Why do I think this is a mishmash of Training Day, Scarface, and The Pursuit of Happyness?
The Brave One – Jodie Foster is in love with the dude from Grindhouse who did all the castrations. But he gets killed and she starts revenging all over the place. While I'm all about Jodie Foster remaking Death Wish, it feels a little incongruous. Like, say, Tori Amos singing about how she is a potent object of desire of younger men. Oh wait, she already did that: Well then how about a remake of Dangerous Minds where Michelle Pfeiffer goes all Tom Berenger on her students?
Shoot 'Em Up – I know there have been a lot of over the top killer action-comedies over the years. I know that a lot of them ended up being more Ballistic than Snatch. All the same, I'm looking forward to this one, if only because Paul Giamatti is a total badass. In movies where he is a quirky or whiny guy, I'm not so excited, but Amazing Screw-On Head has persuaded me that he can be totally awesome when he needs to be. Additional proof: he's Colonel Parker in Bubba Nosferatu.

Independent Gangster Comedy

2007-06-07T00:18:00.000-04:00

– Hey, there's this movie about a guy with guns who is having serious personal issues.

– Zero Effect?

– Work affecting personal issues.

– Gun Shy?

– No, it's about a professional killer.

— Gangster Number One?

— No, it takes place in America.

– Grosse Pointe Blank?

– No, he's older and wears a touque.

– Oh, The Professional.

– No, it has Ben Kingsley.

– Suspect Zero?

– No, he's an outright gangster in this one.

– Lucky Number Slevin!

– Not that one.

– Sexy Beast?

– Jeez. Look, this one has Téa Leoni in it.

– Uhhh.... BAD BOYS!

– What? Ben Kingsley wasn't in Bad Boys!

– Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do?

– No, it's called You Kill Me, and Ben Kingsley is this hit man who joins AA.

— Whatcha gonna do when they come for you bad boys bad boys–

— So it's a romantic comedy and a quirky comedy and it has guns and killing and stuff. It sounds like every other hit man movie, but that's what makes it awesome. This is obviously a movie made by some guy who loves this kind of movie. And Ben Kingsley looks great in it.

Low

2007-06-03T22:30:00.000-04:00

Spent too much time this weekend on Valkyrie Profile Lenneth, the remake of the cult Silver Age PSX game for PSP.

It's an engrossing game, with its combination of platforming puzzles and crazy combo battles grafted on top of a solid RPG experience. Also engrossing is that it takes every RPG convetion and turns it on its head. For example, you recruit characters by watching them die, or you manufacture weapons and items with your own divine will.

I was quite surprised to see how neatly it interlocked with what little of the sequel/prequel I've played. Certainly makes me want to go ahead and finish it.

Perhaps I will pick up the PSX original, if only to get my hands on vaguely Lunar-style (shout outs to Yoshiyuki Sadamoto) anime cutscenes that were replaced by CGI for this outing:

End of the World Scenario 43,024

2007-06-03T15:35:00.000-04:00

Let's say that there's a long-running, self-referential TV animated comedy. For one episode, they are going to do a direct parody of a famous, fan-loved science fiction movie. This will cause a feedback loop of self-referential humor that will collapse in upon itself until it reaches infinite mass. By this point, the universe will have collapsed in upon itself to a point of infinitesimal size.

Scientists are currently debating whether this infinite point mass will explode, giving birth to a new universe, or just remain inert for all eternity.

Family Guy season premiere will be a direct parody of Star Wars and will take place in September.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Hands On with Post Geography

2007-05-30T21:53:00.000-04:00

My post-geographic experiment isn't working out as well as I would have thought, even a year ago. I'm working more with my job, (and should really be working now) everybody else I know is working more with their jobs or with their kids, I live in a city that is inconvenient for pretty much anybody to visit, and it's pretty inconvenient for me to go just about anywhere. (The nearest city with a nightlife I would even consider compatible with me is like an hour and a half's drive away.) And it's a five minute drive to a bar (along sidewalkless roads I would consider dangerous during the day, sober) and twenty minutes to a decent restaurant. I can't really walk anywhere.

At least I'm busy these days.

Google has tweaked their Maps even more, so I can point out just about anywhere. Here is Burp Castle, my Platonic Form of Bar. Check it out.

At any rate, it feels a lot longer than two years ago that I moved up here. So I'm listening to a playlist of music I listened to regularly when I lived downstate. Here's the output of my autogenerated mix CD:

When The Tigers Broke Free	Pink Floyd
Super Bon Bon	Soul Coughing
Rocked By Rape	The Evolution Control Committee
Battle Without Honor or Humanity	Tomoyasu Hotei
Montana	Venus Hum
justice(O-R'S ANOTHER WORLD-MIX)	HΛL
Susanne	Weezer
Androgyny	Garbage
High 5 (Rock the Catskills)	Beck
Head Over Heels	Tears For Fears
The Fletcher Memorial Home	Pink Floyd
One Of These Nights	The Eagles
Megalith -Agnus Dei-	中西哲一
Aeroplane	Red Hot Chili Peppers
Hollywood Freaks	Beck
Ugly Girl	Fleming & John
Modern Love	David Bowie

N.B.

Number of songs with Japanese lyrics: 1
Number of songs from a video game: 1
Number of songs from a Japanese video game: 1
Still being a big nerd: priceless
These are not the songs I listened to most from 2002 - 2005. These aren't even the songs that I listened to from 2002 - 2005 that I listened to the most in the last six months. These are the popular songs I listened to the most out of the list of songs I specifically remember specifically listening to between 2002 - 2005. That I listened to all the way through. In other words, this is kind of like me making a time capsule from 1950 by taking a bunch of items from the last hundred years, picking out stuff that I think is like stuff that was around in the fifties, putting them on a table and shuffling them around, picking out twenty with a blindfold, picking out ten I like, and shoving them in a time capsule and burying it in the ground and digging it right out again.
In 2007.

How to get rich writing genre fiction

2007-05-28T21:37:00.000-04:00

I saw that Warhammer 40K novels are all the rage at the local bookstore. They are like Star Wars novels except three times as thick, and they have various Space Marine officer dudes on them looking all badass in their tall pointy hats.

If they get paid by the page, then it might actually be profitable. Sure, it was on the front pedestal for new mass market paperbacks, but I mean really... how many people read Warhammer 40K novels?

I read the back of one, and the plot looked just like Captain Tylor. I'm not sure if it was still a harem comedy.

Opposite Day: Niebelung Valesti!

2007-05-20T20:19:00.000-04:00

The immediate cause of my purchase of a PSP might have been the pretty cool but still meh Ace Combat X, but by far the title that I've actually enjoyed and played most so far has been Valkyrie Profile: Lenneth.

Much to my surprise, I've turned into a full on gamer this week, beating up and shooting up my way through The Red Star. The going's tough, though, requiring constant attention to control the crowds of regular baddies, and the development of new movies and a zen-like concentration to make it through ever-tougher bosses. Took me like two days to figure out my way past "Pashtun X2", a giant teleporting spinning cube that fires bullets in a giant flower pattern.

So I decided on Saturday to pop in VP2, just so I could check to see if it supported Progressive Scan. It supports 16:9 natively, so four hours later, I'm well and into the game.

Dark intro movie with Elfmanesque BGM:

It's enjoyable stuff, with utterly gorgeous in engine video and a play system that is totally different from the original with its 3D battle system.

Definitely going to waste some time on this one.