The Solvang hadn’t been convened in going on 200 year. Long enough that nobody living could remember one, anyway. Oh, some of the old timers said they remembered their parents going off in the middle of the night to the sound of a deep, sonorous noise, but nobody really believed them. Not that the old timers were that bad with their memory. The exoRAM might have been a little out of date, but the bits were still intact.
No, the memories might have been correct. Thing is, nobody wanted to believe them. Nobody wanted to believe that their world might come crashing down around them. Nobody wanted to believe. But it was hard to argue with the ancient horns emitting a long, drawn out note felt in the middle of your head rather than heard.
Rookc the Dullard thought long and hard about the deep vibrations he felt. The wahlenstrom was coming. The Fulmen had failed. That, of course, left the Colony almost completely defenseless, an ‘allowable risk’ to the preemptive strike according to the Proven. They didn’t think or believe that the Fulmen could fail. Neither did Rookc.
Rookc Minreva was a notBright. Had been for a long time. That didn’t mean commoners didn’t come to him with their problems. They just didn’t respect his timelines or his decisions. They were among the most difficult of judgments to live with. Which meant they were of the hardest truth. Only the Proven could make those decisions quick enough, unfaltering. The trained Potential was damn near instinct, and almost completely inherent.
Rookc Minreva had been called Slown for so long that he couldn’t remember ever having Potential. The attention lavished on the Potentials, the jealousy that followed the crestfallen and disheartened wherever they went. The land, red and blown, was difficult to survive, and the Slown had the added weight of Laborlife to contend with. Most didn’t mind once the work was started. Actually, only one still did.
He was not dumb. NotBright was an easy classification to fall into, a system that was based on timing and memorization. The Martian Wind was lethal and sudden, a red violence that could whip the Common into a frenzy of activity, guided by the Word of the Trained and the Proven. The honed instincts of the Proven are the lifeline for the Colony. All depends on them. But now their skill would be bent to a new task: war.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Kitchen List
Pork chops cooked on an electric skillet by my mother, the
sizzling slabs of meat announcing Friday.
Spaghetti without sauce. My father’s way of eating the pasta
he cooked for us.
A hot slap of red chile enchiladas his other specialty. Served
with a fried-egg on top.
Top Ramen in the pantry like jumper cables in the truck.
The Boy Scout code: Be Prepared.
The taco sauce packet added to the saucepan, simmering
on the stove.
The kitchen where I stepped in front of my father’s raised fist
less like a wall and more like a window, where he could
see my spine is a step ladder, the heart wanting to climb
in to my head.
Lightning bolts and thunderclouds roil
as the two approach.
sizzling slabs of meat announcing Friday.
Spaghetti without sauce. My father’s way of eating the pasta
he cooked for us.
A hot slap of red chile enchiladas his other specialty. Served
with a fried-egg on top.
Top Ramen in the pantry like jumper cables in the truck.
The Boy Scout code: Be Prepared.
The taco sauce packet added to the saucepan, simmering
on the stove.
The kitchen where I stepped in front of my father’s raised fist
less like a wall and more like a window, where he could
see my spine is a step ladder, the heart wanting to climb
in to my head.
Lightning bolts and thunderclouds roil
as the two approach.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Third Pig
The wolf was the house is the blowing down of the little pigs scared and the first pig I saw the wolf drooling over the bales of hay. Huff and I’ll the second pig scared with the first they twigs to get away from the drooling huff and I’ll while the third snickered and the wolf where is the wolf. Sneering the third pig the drooling the brick the scared little piggies blow your house in a pile of scared little piggies the third one laughing. He drooling the brick huff and the scared piggies the wolf is angry the third pig is smiling hungry.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Never
5 The rocket was off, the rumble of the thrusters shaking the frost off the liquid-oxygen and –hydrogen filled fuel tanks. The nozzles splay for a brief moment, as if caught off guard from the sudden violent blast the mixed fuels deliver, but quickly recover and direct the force into a focus of white heat emblazoned on the platform as the technological spire floats for a moment, suspended on the children of Hell.
4 He should be excited. This is the ultimate, the finale, the fulfillment of all the dreams and aspirations of his, his family, his people included. All the side jobs, second jobs, second-hand clothes, overtime, and hand-me-downs through the years by his father, his mother, his, everyone, have come to fruition.
3 A red and black leather jacket with many zippers, snaps, pockets, some doubled, some sewn, some fake, some not, but all completely needed hung waiting for him in the closet, a worn out pair of Chuck’s on the floor, a worn pair of Levi’s with two gathers of fabric sewn at the waist thrown over the back of a chair. Thriller had been on the shelves for a decade.
2 ‘Cause this is thriller, thriller night
The clock-radio reads 7:00 AM. Uhhhh, school already? I wonder what moms has got packed for lunch. Will they let us out to watch the shuttle launch? Wonder what Shondra’s doing?
1 My kids will never have to put up with this shit. Cleaning up after these white folks, demeaned and tormented. No, they will never have to put up with this. Who you calling boy?!
4 He should be excited. This is the ultimate, the finale, the fulfillment of all the dreams and aspirations of his, his family, his people included. All the side jobs, second jobs, second-hand clothes, overtime, and hand-me-downs through the years by his father, his mother, his, everyone, have come to fruition.
3 A red and black leather jacket with many zippers, snaps, pockets, some doubled, some sewn, some fake, some not, but all completely needed hung waiting for him in the closet, a worn out pair of Chuck’s on the floor, a worn pair of Levi’s with two gathers of fabric sewn at the waist thrown over the back of a chair. Thriller had been on the shelves for a decade.
2 ‘Cause this is thriller, thriller night
The clock-radio reads 7:00 AM. Uhhhh, school already? I wonder what moms has got packed for lunch. Will they let us out to watch the shuttle launch? Wonder what Shondra’s doing?
1 My kids will never have to put up with this shit. Cleaning up after these white folks, demeaned and tormented. No, they will never have to put up with this. Who you calling boy?!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Cruisin'
“Come on, baby. Come on. Just this one time, that’s all I ask. Come on. Come on! Damnit!” I turned the key one last time, for good measure. “Sonuvabitch.” I looked at my watch. “That’s just great. Ever fucking time, this godamnpieceofshit, stupid cheap ass, ripoff!” I slowly lowered my hands from the steering wheel. One of the neighbor kids was looking at me through the window. I listened to Smokey Robinson for a few more notes.
I was gonna have to burn some serious rubber to get there in time. “Don’t forget the ice cream. Right.” I can feel the sides of the carton loosening up. I catch a glimpse in the rearview as I climb out of the Reliant. Just about time to get a haircut. “Probably should have left earlier. Stupid fucking car.” I give it one more disgusted look and turn to go. All I can think about is the shit storm to come. “Why are you late this time? Got stuck in traffic? At work? On Mars? Blah blah blah.” That neighbor kid was watching me pace across the driveway. His face told me he heard ever word. His eyes told me he didn’t understand much of it. The gaping maw said he understood plenty.
“Ah, shit shit shit.” I was taking the word out for a spin. “Shit,shit,shit,shiiiiit.” I know I told her I wouldn’t be late. Not this time. Of course I understood how important this is. I know. I’ll be there. I can picture her face looking up at me, sweeping the hair out of her mouth. “I’ll pick you up, ok? It won’t be a problem, I’ll just swing by after work-“
“I’ll be there, alright? I say I’ll be there, and I will.” Whatever. There isn’t much I can do about it now. Just have to get to the bus stop “in time to see the god damn bus leave!” My hands are up in the air, ice cream running down the sleeve of my jacket as I squeeze the contents out the top. There’s a Neapolitan oil slick in my armpit.
“Shit.”
I was gonna have to burn some serious rubber to get there in time. “Don’t forget the ice cream. Right.” I can feel the sides of the carton loosening up. I catch a glimpse in the rearview as I climb out of the Reliant. Just about time to get a haircut. “Probably should have left earlier. Stupid fucking car.” I give it one more disgusted look and turn to go. All I can think about is the shit storm to come. “Why are you late this time? Got stuck in traffic? At work? On Mars? Blah blah blah.” That neighbor kid was watching me pace across the driveway. His face told me he heard ever word. His eyes told me he didn’t understand much of it. The gaping maw said he understood plenty.
“Ah, shit shit shit.” I was taking the word out for a spin. “Shit,shit,shit,shiiiiit.” I know I told her I wouldn’t be late. Not this time. Of course I understood how important this is. I know. I’ll be there. I can picture her face looking up at me, sweeping the hair out of her mouth. “I’ll pick you up, ok? It won’t be a problem, I’ll just swing by after work-“
“I’ll be there, alright? I say I’ll be there, and I will.” Whatever. There isn’t much I can do about it now. Just have to get to the bus stop “in time to see the god damn bus leave!” My hands are up in the air, ice cream running down the sleeve of my jacket as I squeeze the contents out the top. There’s a Neapolitan oil slick in my armpit.
“Shit.”
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