2043: Chapter Two

In the abyss,James saw swirls and images. He saw Neb,the team leader.He was mumbling. Or was screaming. It was hard to tell. What was he yelling about? And why was Neb slapping him? "Ouch!" James said. Then suddenly the world snapped into focus, He could see Neb and someone else he didn't recognize. The Stranger had a huge, nasty-looking burn on half of his face. "James!" yelled Neb, with a concerned look on his face,"Are you okay?" James looked around. he was lying on his back in a stretcher.He hurt all over." If I knew what happened, I could tell you." James moaned. He had a bandage on his left arm. Neb looked at him. "You were caught in a small nuclear explosion. The Sovereign Nations must have launched a missile at the Soviet States. The SS has been firing at them." Neb added, " If it weren't for that Officer's robot," Neb pointed at the smoldering wreckage of the machine, "In all probability you would be dead." James grinned. He hadn't planned the robot to save his life, but it did, and so good foresight for him, for once. "Who is this?" He said, gesturing toward the Stranger.
"This is Hikaru. He joined up recently. We tried to find you before the blast."
"what happened to his..." He wanted to say face, and he knew he had already been impolite in even beginning to ask."Appearance?" Neb said "he..." Hikaru cut him off." Thank you, master Nimajneb," He said, " I believe this conversation can be cleared up later." James blushed at his impertinence. Hikaru obviously sensed his uncomfort. "Do not worry, Mr. James, it is a perfectly valid question." Speachless, James said "uh... thank you?"
Hikaru just laughed.

2043: Chapter One

James walked silently through the night. His footsteps so inaudible, one would think it was impossible for The Gang to find him here, but there was always that fear. Fear was their most powerful weapon. Crawling between to smelly dumpsters, James listened. Almost quiet enough for the sound to be dismissed as a trick of the mind, he heard voices. James was part of a specialist group waging war against the government, which became totalitarian in the year 2020. It had been 23 years since the organization was founded. It was important to remain hidden from the Officers of Control, who apparently were just around the next corner, from the sound of it. He sneaked around to the corner of the brick building. Sure enough, Officer Robots. The robots were tall, huge, and each was driven by a human Officer. He sure didn't want to get caught by one of these, so he turned back and started to make his way to the HQ of his militia. Just before he was out of an earshot, the communicator on his wrist began to beep loudly. Sensing he might be in immediate danger of severe bodily harm, James was starting to sweat. He quickly opened and closed his communicator, and the beeping stopped. He ran, knowing that the officers would probably be following. Yes, he could hear the metal clad officer following. He could hear the heavy footsteps of the iron feet. James ran. He ran until he felt like he couldn't run anymore, and then ducked into another alley on the left. Dead end! The Robot approached at the mouth of the street, and James looked around. He was completely surrounded by walls on all sides! He looked at the robot. The Officer inside smirked, as he thought he could take James on foot.The Officer got out of the machine and drew his gun. "Hold it!" the man shouted," hands on your head!" "ha," James thought,"big mistake." Before the Officer could react, James emptied his gun into his body.

The view from inside the cockpit of a Officer of Control Robot was new to James, and he loved it. All this power, under his control. With the whole world at war, it was hard to get munitions and artillery. But James had gotten some, hadn't he? With his own pistol. He looked at the outside view. "What the heck?" James said loudly. The sight that cause him so much alarm was a blinding flash of light and building bursting into flames. A huge explosion ripped through the air, the shockwave rippling through the clouds and flinging the suit backwards. Then everything was chaos. Buildings splintered. Then it all went black.

Fishing ( by Ben )

Fishing in a mountain creek or river is an art. Or a ritual. or a ride. A ride on which you control(to an extent) the track. For those who don't know how the art is done, I will elaborate.
When I go fishing, first I go inspect my tackle box. I only like to use dry tackle, because I can't imagine if, given a choice, anything(even a fish) would choose a wriggling worm or grasshopper that has been speared on a hook, over a nice piece of soft, light green plastic shaped like a larvae of some kind(that has likewise been speared).
I know which I would choose. Plastic naturally tastes better. As I look at my assorted trappings, I notice a smell wafting from the box. It's not all a bad smell, really. (more wafting). *choke*! Okay, Okay, It is! It is! Holding my breath, I look some more. All my lures are in a big jumble, just the way I like it. It is more convenient in a mess. Tears coming from my eyes,I close the lid. I run for the air freshener. All satisfactory. I go to inspect the fishing rods. Around here, we call them "fish poles". I go to my room, find my map,hope the piles in the garage haven't shifted due to some seismic disturbance, and notify search and rescue. I open the door and look into the garage, a.k.a. the "k'iil-ya'" mountain range. I look for the trail to the south-east reaches of the place. I find it, find my fish poles, and return safely. It is easy to live off the land when the bugs are bigger than sheep.
Then I look outside the window. The weekly forecast didn't show this. It's raining!
I throw my rods in the mountains, log the place, and go read a good book.

Truancy

I am reading the "Truancy" series by Isamu Fukui. I love these books so far, and I recommend them. When I finish the series, I will have a review on it.


"We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them."
-- Albert Einstein