Fed Axed – Part 1
I keep floating around ideas, which is what this blog is for. I’d like to have one land for more than a single post, but that’s also the point of the blog. I generate ideas. I create possibilities. Some of them are worth pursuing, and some are just dismissive dreck. Can’t tell one from the other until you put it to paper though, so I don’t mind so much.
So far, with the exception of Action Jackson, all of my current writing projects have been born on this here blog. They hardly resemble the original post when I get done pounding them into shape, but that’s half the fun. The ideas here are just fledglings; once I start editing I can see just how high these birds can fly. It’s sometimes not as high as I’d hope or otherwise want, but sometimes I surprise even myself with where they end up going.
On that subject, I have another idea that I’m fairly certain will end up being a story a lot like Action Jackson was. It’s something I discussed with an author whom I have a passing relationship with. I run ideas by him from time to time, and he thumbs up or downs them in a simple fashion.
That’s good, because ideas are essentially worthless, but they still need to be separated into the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ pile. The fact that I have someone with a ton of experience, who has fantastic ideas that I consume with glee, can give me a fly-by take on it is invaluable.
Again, I would remind everyone: This is a small industry. This is a close knit network of personal relationships. Build them, be polite to those you work with, and DO NOT shaft, stiff, or brush aside people that you need to make your writing career happen. BARE MINIMUM for an indie publication, you will need to work with the following: Cover Artist, Copy Editor, Line Editor, Beta Readers, Typesetter (Book Spacing Editor), as well as any agent / agency you have to promote your work. THEN you have relationships with other authors (who generally speaking want EVERYONE who writes a book to succeed) to consider and develop. It’s a lot that needs to be handled with care, and something that you wouldn’t think about at first glance.
This is part of why I like writing. Part of why I want to travel around the country, and get to a point where I can start talking to other potential writers or first time authors. I am absorbing a lot of information, very quickly, which those pursuing this dream would have a field day with. I’m an exceptional speaker* and I believe that I can share things in ways that not only will make sense, but which can lead to further revelations and insights. It’s part of why I swim through all the muck and horror of beginning a career in an artistic pursuit. Eventually, I know I will reach the other side.
Man that swim though. Woof..
Fed Axed – Part 1
This is the life. Elfred Freidason leaned back in his grav chair, sipping the almost-scalding hot freshly brewed coffee that Pearl had brewed for him a few seconds after he barked an order. The enormous monitor in front of him displayed what it always did: everything was working perfectly.
Fed-Ex had sixty seven automated transports that flew between the Terran Union planets. Sixty six men, women, and andrys sat with him in the monitor offices on Earth, sipping coffee and eating whatever they felt like. Pearl never complained, never chastised any request. She simply did as she was told. Just like the transports. Elfred was paid handsomely to watch his transport manage itself, content to tick a few boxes in the hourly reports he was forced to file. Like most of the people he worked with, he usually just fudged the reports. What did it matter? Even if anything went wrong, the onboard repair-bots would fix it long before his report indicating it was damaged would be read.
Even if the damage was severe enough to merit attention, it would be fixed by the receiving dry-dock with or without his report. Yet the Union charter mandated that a human being monitor and verify that the transports were doing what they were supposed to.
Yes, this is the life indeed. He sipped, wearing a smug smile as he did.
An alert flashed across the message scrawl located across the bottom of his display. Elfred frowned, staring at the alert. He placed the still steaming mug back on his omni-pad, where it gently attached itself. He reached out, fingers tracing commands on the display which forced the error message back to the fore.
He hadn’t been wrong; the warning indicated that there was an error in a quantum data packet. Which was impossible. Quantum communications were absolute. By their very nature, entangled quanta couldn’t be tampered with. It was the axis around which humanity turned. It powered the computers which ran all the unpleasant aspects of space travel. Union laws allowed humans to have any job they qualified for, but space travel was another beast entirely. No one wanted to risk their four hundred years in the cold clutches of vacuum.
Quantum computers, quantum communications, all built to allow safe and unmolested travel through the cosmos. And it had worked. For a thousand years, it had worked. So what had the message meant, stating that a data packet had been corrupted.
A thousand alarms sprang to life on his display. One system after another malfunctioned, the errors and instability snowballing upon each other as the redundant systems and repair bots sat motionless. The ship no longer had the ability to talk to itself.
Elfred coughed, his last swallow going down wrong as his fingers flew across the keys, attempting to send the ships repair and containment systems the commands its onboard AI no longer could. The messages were clearly garbled upon arrival. The repair bots began fixing systems which hadn’t succumbed to the mounting avalanche of malfunctions, breaking them in the process. Sixty six other voices cried out in various states of alarm and panic, all the shouts mingling across the distance to form a cacophony of startled anger. Fingers flew, commands were issued, but the dam had burst, and there wasn’t a finger big enough to plug this hole.
With growing consternation and dismay, Elfred watched as the ship lost the ability to control itself. The maneuvering thrusters fought against the main engines, which began to fire out of sequence and in varying degrees of strength. The cargo restraint pads flickered, and cargo sprang free and was rooted in place, tumbling about the ship with increasing speed. Without the pads to restrain them and the ship providing random bursts of acceleration, the cargo began slamming through her. Each cargo pod weighed almost 30 tonnes each. Structural integrity failed at various points around the ship, and within a few minutes as he helplessly watched on, the ships fission drives were compromised.
The display went dark, and Elfred knew that the worst had happened. He could see it in his mind, the reactors losing stability and turning the ship and all the cargo into a miniature sun. Disaster, without a doubt. And if the anguished yells and terrified screaming of his peers were any indication, his was not the only ship lost without explanation.
His internal vid system burst into his peripheral without warning, as the voice of the CEO of Fed-Ex filled his ears without producing external sound.
“WHAT IN THE BLUE BLAZES IS GOING ON DOWN THERE ELFRED. YOU BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR WHY ALL OUR SHIPS ARE GONE!”
All of them?!
To be continued…
Fedfully,
Justin
*This is one of roughly two things I claim excellence at. I have medals, trophies, and certificates from all levels of education proving this. High School, College, jobs, etc. I’ve given speeches at every level to every audience, and have always been well received. What can I say? I’m good at it, and it comes naturally.
