Category: blogging

NANOWRIMO – 2024 – Day 6

Behind the Green Door

…

Michael gets to interact more with the guidance counsellor, Miranda, who he had asked if she knows she is a robot. Michael has had interaction with another robot a year or so back when he was sent to find her, and then did his usual life signs check to discover there was something odd about her,

She says she is self-aware, and also programmed to learn. Michael is not quite sure what to make of that, but in the back of his mind, the notion that AI might be slightly out of control.

But…

Is she really a robot? As far as he can tell, Miranda is not displaying any of the tell-tale signs that she is not human.

However…

If she is a robot with a large amount of digital storage, she would be privy to everything he has been involved with. In the upcoming discussions, she would be able to ask random questions and record answers, mannerisms, and attitudes for others who want to observe and communicate with her.

In that instance, it was a brilliant idea on behalf of Management, and it meant that if it was true he would have to be very careful around her.

On the other hand…

It was not possible for the programmers to have her respond appropriately to every nuance, and it would be interesting to see what her responses were under certain circumstances.

…

Word written today 2,711, making a total of 10,126 words

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

…

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

In a word: Great

Or is it grate?

Is it possible to mix the two up?  I don’t think so.

Great usually means: everything is great, or good, or excellent, whatever degree of goodness you want to put to it.

It could also mean something else, like:  Well, you were a great help! when in fact you want to say how useless they were.

Large or little.

Like all creatures great and small,  Why not say big or small.  Big doesn’t quite have the same effect.

Of course, you could be a great person, well, what I really mean is distinguished.  Besides, great could mean way above average, too.  Or grand, or impressive, the list goes on.

And haven’t we all, at some time had a great-aunt.  No not the good one, the ‘great’ one, denoting her seniority, not necessarily how nice she is.

 

As for the other grate, we can build a fire in it.

Or add an ‘un’ in front and ‘ful’ at the end, to denote what parents sometimes think of their children

Or get a block of cheese and ‘grate’ it into small shreds.

Or speak in a voice that grates on your nerves, possibly by that great-aunt.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 72

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

Charlene, and speaking to Boggs

…

She had been one of the few nice girls at school and we had got along better than most.  Boggs had once told me she liked me but was disappointed I hadn’t noticed her.  I suppose, back then, I didn’t recognize the signs, and even now, I was still all at sea with girls.

Was she Boggs’s girlfriend?  If she was, it was the best-kept secret.

“Hello Charlene,” I said when she also looked up to see who had entered the room.

“Sam.”

“Are you…”

Before I could finish she interrupted, “I’m working in the sheriff’s office, and dad asked me to keep a watch over Boggs.”

“You don’t have to be in the room,” Boggs growled.  “It’s not as if I’m going anywhere.”

It was hardly a conciliatory tone.  And a mental note, Boggs was uncharacteristically angry. With her, or with me?

“My father asked me to do a job, so here I stay.  It’s for your protection as much as anything else.”  Then, to me, “how are you, Sam?”

“Good.”

“I understand you found him on the beach belonging to the Cossatino’s.  Odd place to be, Sam, for you at least?”

“Nadia and I were searching the coastline for coins with metal detectors when we stumbled over a body.  Thought at first it was a beached shark.”

Boggs turned his head back.  “Whose idea was it?”

Curious response and I thought about telling him it was mine, but something told me to tell the truth. “Nadia.  And before you ask, no, I don’t think she had any other idea in mind because as you and I both know, there’s no access from the ocean to the shore through the reef.  That much I ascertained for myself, and that goes for the whole coastline of The Grove.”

If he had looked down from the top of the cliff face, at any point along the coastline he would have seen that for himself.  But, that might not always have been the case because there were almost two centuries and a lot of seismic activity in between.  I’d seen the big A, but no other evidence it might be the spot, but Boggs had been there, and it was likely he knew it a likely spot too.

He nodded, which meant he had checked himself, which gave him a reason for being at The Grove, but not finishing up where he’d landed.  There was something else in his expression and had I not had the knowledge I had, I would have ignored it.

“Why look for coins then?”

“Something to do, I guess, since you’ve stopped asking me to help you.  That and doing a little investigation on the side.  I’m amazed at just how much information there is out there, and it’s a battle to sort fact from fiction.  And I didn’t have the head start you have.”

“You do realize Nadia is a Cossatino.  You can’t be consorting with the enemy.”

“I thought she was just someone to hang out with since we hadn’t hit it off at school.  In case you didn’t notice, she hasn’t been around these parts for several years, going to Italy to get away from the family.  But, I get it, she’s still a Cossatino, or so everyone keeps telling me, and not someone I should be associating with.  You’re not the only one issuing dire warnings.”

“That’s your problem, Sam, you see the good in everyone, even if they’re bad.”

“Should I apply that theory to you.  You don’t finish up unconscious on a beach where you’re not supposed to be.  What happened?”

I could practically see the wheels turning while he formulated an excuse he thought I would buy, then said, “I slipped and fell, something that shouldn’t have happened?”

“Not unless you’d been seen and the Cossatino’s were either coming to get you or were chasing you?”

He didn’t answer perhaps knowing Charlene was there to get answers, but his expression told me it was close to the truth.

“No.  Slipped, a fundamental error setting up.  I was simply sloppy.”

“You were trespassing.”

“I was practicing my skills, and it’s the best rockface along the coast for exactly that.  It’s not the first time I’ve tried.”

OK, we weren’t going to get past the ‘I was practicing mantra’, so I moved on to the next question, “Where have you been lately?”

“The caves in the hills, and trying a bit of climbing there, too.”

“You shouldn’t be doing it alone.”

“I wouldn’t have to if my so-called friend wasn’t cavorting with a snake.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 2

Back on the bridge of that rickety starship

…

The only things moving on this upcoming voyage out into the unknown, is the planets on our screen.

When we were last on the bridge, the chief engineer, yes, we still have them in the 24th century, was telling us it was a no go.

When you’re standing on a ship that cost more money than you can imagine, then double that unimaginable amount, and realise it would normally build two other smaller ships, then you can be assured that someone very high up in the chain of command, sitting in an office somewhere safe back on the planet, who may or may not be wishing they were in your place, would be anything but happy.

I was lucky that I didn’t meet that someone during the recruitment process, only later on an inspection of the ship just before the handover from the builder to Space Command.

This was not the first, but the first of a new class. Bigger, better, faster, more suitable to space travel than those that came before.

And, having several junior officers with a passion for history, one of them came up with a simile for our predicament. When new cars were created, way back in the 20th century, the first of the series always had teething problems. That’s why you wouldn’t buy the first of a series.

We didn’t have that luxury, but here’s the thing, it was based on an earlier model with a few new enhancements. It was one of those enhancements that was the problem.

A few minutes after the captain went to his quarters, his voice came over the speaker system. “Number One?”

Ok, I have a name, but trying to get the captain to use it might be difficult, what with regulations, and his rather stiff manner, each of which might get in the way.

“Sir?”

“Go down to engineering and get a report on progress.”

I could do that over the internal comms. What was going on? Belay that thought, I was not going to question an order.

“Yes sir.”

I glanced in the direction of the second officer, and he nodded, getting out of his seat. He would take charge of the bridge, even though we were going nowhere.

He walked over to my position, and I headed for the lift.

Automatic doors. It was not an innovation, but when I came aboard a week ago, they were not working properly, so using the lift to me was a leap of faith.

A few seconds later and what might have been from the top to the bottom in a skyscraper, the lift slowed, then stopped. The doors didn’t open.

Don’t panic. Just wait and breathe. There you go. The doors opened…

…onto utter chaos!

…

© Charles Heath 2021

“The Price of Fame”, A Short Story

I looked at the invitation, a feeling of dread coming over me.  It was not entirely unexpected but like a great many things that had suddenly come into my life, it caused equal measures of fear and excitement.

The gold edging and the perfect script displaying my name in the exact centre of the envelope made it almost unique.  Very few people ever received such an invitation.

I held it in my hand for a longer than necessary, then put it down on the desk carefully, as if it would explode if I dropped it.

My first instinct, driven by fear, was not to accept.

But, fear or not, there was no question of me not attending.  Circumstances had painted me into a corner; I’d agreed to go a long time ago when I thought there was no chance it would come to pass.

Way back then, I had been compared to the aspiring painter in an attic having to die before I made any sort of impression.  In those days people thought it amusing.  I thought it was amusing.  Kirsty, in particular, had thought it was as impossible as I had.

Now it was not amusing.  Not even remotely.

My life was once quiet, peaceful, sedate, even boring.  That didn’t mean I lacked imagination, it was just not out on display for everyone to see.  Inspired by reading endless books, I had the capacity to transport myself into another world, divorced from reality, where my boring existence became whatever I wanted it to be.

It was also instrumental in bringing Kirsty into my life.  In reality, I thought she’d never take a second look at me, let alone a first.  So I pretended to be someone else.  Original, witty, charming, underneath more scared than I’d ever known.

And yet she knew, she’d always known and didn’t care.

As we spent more time together, she discovered I liked to write, not finish anything, just start, write a hundred pages, then lose interest.  Like everything I did.  Start, and never finish.

Why not?  It would never be published.  It would never succeed.

So she bribed me.  If I didn’t finish my first book and send it away, I couldn’t marry her.  It didn’t matter if it was rejected, all I had to do was finish a book, and send it.

The thought of marrying her had not entered my mind, because I hadn’t thought she would.  Incentive enough, I picked out one of the unfinished manuscripts and humoured her.  She read bits of it, not saying a word.  Sometimes she’d put a note or two on the manuscript, her equivalent to sweet nothings, and with it I gained inner confidence in my own ability, not only to write but in many other aspects of my life.

When it was finished, it was Kirsty who sent it off.  She read it, packaged it, addressed it, and sent it before I had a chance to change her mind.  Once gone, I heaved a huge sigh of relief.  It was done. That was, as far as I was concerned, the end of it.

It was not possible that one letter could change a person’s life so dramatically.  I came home to the all-knowing smile, and mischievous whimsicality that had always suggested trouble.

Trouble indeed!

My book was accepted.  With a cheque called an advance.  For more money than I knew what to do with.

This was followed not long after by publication.  And a dramatic change to my life, one I didn’t want.  To become a public person, to face an enormous number of people, people I didn’t know.

I went back to being scared.

Kirsty smiled at me and told me how wonderful I looked in my monkey suit.  Why couldn’t I go in jeans and a dress shirt?  All the best actors in Hollywood did it.

“This is not Hollywood.  You’re not an actor.”  It was a simple, practical, answer.

The hell I wasn’t.  I could act sick, dying, fake a heart attack, anything.  “What am I going to say?”

“You could talk about books.”  Quiet, efficient, oozing the confidence I didn’t feel.

She didn’t fuss.  She took it in her stride.  She dressed in her usual simple elegance, in a manner that made me love to be seen with her.  I couldn’t tie my tie, so she did it for me.  She straightened my jacket because I couldn’t do that either.  Nerves.  Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.  Or was that a reference to wives, or mistresses, or something else?

The palms of my hands were sweating.  Meatball hands, I thought, the sort of palms that betrayed the pretenders.  Me, I was the pretender.  My neck felt too large for the shirt.  Beads of sweat formed on my brow.  Where was a sponge when you needed one?

“I can’t do this.”

“You can.”

We hadn’t even left the hotel yet.

“How long before the execution.”

She looked at me with her whimsical smile.  “Long enough for me to give you a hard time.”

I lost count of the number of times I had to go to the bathroom, for one thing, or another.  Nerves I said.  Perhaps a dozen Valium or something similar.  Did I have any?  Had she hidden them?  Why did she keep smiling?

In the car, I looked at my watch at least a dozen times.  I couldn’t breathe.  It was too hot, too cold.  She held my hand, and it served best to stop the trembling that had set in.  Why did I agree to this?  Why?

We were greeted by the Events Manager, who was polite and genuinely interested.  He took us inside where he introduced the interviewer, another woman who oozed confidence and charm, who went over the format and generally tried to set me at ease.

I didn’t let Kirsty’s hand go.  Not yet.  She was my lifeline, the umbilical cord.  When it was severed, I knew I was going to die.

Bathroom?  Where was the bathroom?  Hell, five minutes to go, and I felt like passing out.  No, Kirsty couldn’t come in.  Comb my hair.  Straighten my tie, no it was straight.  Maybe I could hide in here?  I looked around.  No, maybe not.

Time.

The cue man was standing beside me, hand gently on my back.  He knew the score.  He knew I would turn and run the first chance I got.  Kirsty was on the other side, smiling.  Did she know too?

Then the announcement, my cue to walk on.

The gentle shove, the bright lights, the deafening applause, the seemingly endless walk to the chair, dear God, would I make it without tripping over?

How many times had I made this trip?  I stood, facing the audience, waved, then sat.  It was the fifteenth.  You’d think I’d learned by now.

There was nothing to it.

© Charles Heath 2016-2022

Searching for locations: Mount Ngauruhoe, New Zealand

Mount Ngauruhoe is apparently still an active volcano, has been for 2,500 years or so, and last erupted on 19th February 1975, and reportedly has erupted around 70 times since 1839.

The mountain is usually climbed from the western side, from the Mangatepopo track.

This photo was taken in summer from the Chateau Tongariro carpark.

In late autumn, on one of our many visits to the area, the mountain was covered with a light sprinkling of snow and ice.

On our most recent visit, this year, in winter, it was fully covered in snow.

It can be a breathtaking sight from the distance.

NANOWRIMO – 2024 – Day 7

Behind the Green Door

…

In what seems to be a malfunction, Miranda takes Michael to what appears to be a spot where there is no surveillance and tells him that she has another program in her computer core that can only be activated by Michael using Elsie’s name.

Michael believes this is a trap set by management, but to what purpose?

Before he can, what appears to be secret police and a technician arrive, but Miranda has shut down. He is taken back to his bungalow where he is met by a man named Pendleton.

A man who is much older than the 65-year limit.

Michael knows this is one of the facility management team, and fully expects that he is there to take Michael to the interrogation centre where the answers he is sure management wants to know will be extracted.

He is not there for that reason. He is simply there to advise Michael to answer the questions put to him by Miranda. He admits she is a robot, and also there are shortcomings in her programming.

Another revelation, Pendleton is Elsie’s uncle. Of course, this is true, because Elsie’s mother married one of the Pendleton brothers, of which there are four. This much Elsie had told him, and that she had preferred not to stay with them, hence her seeking a husband outside the management sphere.

Did that mean that their meeting had not been a random occurrence?

Did she marry him in order to spy on his father, and him. After all, she had met him at a meeting of the Brainstrust.

Also, there is that visit by Elsie’s aunt after she died…

There are so many directions this story can go…

…

Word written today 1,831, making a total of 11,957 words

Searching for locations: Just how hard can it be to see some snow?

You would think it is a relatively simple thing to get to the snow.

Of course, there are a few necessities like skis, boots, poles, and warm dry clothing, but that can all be bought or rented when you get there, or if you are an enthusiast, you already have the gear.

So, you get in the car, set the navigator, and off you go.  Till you get within 20 k of the ski field, it’s all plain sailing, everyone is excited, and mentally preparing.

Then it all starts to go sideways.

Those last few kilometers to the top are going to be arduous particularly if it’s been snowing and the roads are icy, but the weather is fine with blue skies and no recent snow falls.  Were expecting a slow drive and a parking spot.

The road is open.

But…

So late in the morning, a sign at the bottom of the mountain warns all the car parks at the ski field are full, but we venture on anyway.

As you can see, the cars are parked so far away from the ski fields, the prospective skiers have to almost run a marathon before they get there!

And for some odd reason, we picked the very day everyone in New Zealand also wanted to go up to the ski fields so parking, even near the Chateau Tongariro was gone and there were endless cars looking for parking spots and traffic wardens had their hands full trying to keep traffic moving
So, for us and everyone else, everything stops at Chateau Tongariro, and from there the only vehicles allowed up are buses.

It’s about 10:30 and we are advised the only way we were getting to see snow was to take a bus

Now, there are two types of busses.  You can go up on a local bus, from Whakapapa Village that costs $20 a person which in the context of the cost of skiing not very much, but if you’re not, it’s quite expensive.

The second, one we were advised to use, operates from a place called National Park, about 9 km away, a snow shuttle that costs $6 each.  The trouble is by the time we were ready to go there, to catch a shuttle, there were no more shuttles.

We did not know what to expect when we got to ‘National Park’, but being a railway station makes sense.  It’s the only place with a very large carpark!

Oh, well, there’s always tomorrow.

Books, books, and more books

If there is one thing I cannot resist is walking into a book store wherever it might be.

It usually elicits a groan from everyone I’m with because for them, watching grass grow is a more fascinating exercise.

But…

The best bookshops are the pop-up ones that appear in various shopping centres where there are empty spaces, and these have a wide variety of books for just $7 each.

And there are lots of bargains…

As you can see, I have been on a few bargain hunts lately and like any writer’s room, tucked away with the boxes of drinks, gardening equipment and everything else that just doesn’t fit in the house, are the piles of books awaiting being put into the shelves

As you can see, the shelves are almost full so it’s going to be an uphill battle to find spaces for them.

By the way, there are eight such book cases on the surrounding walls, as well as a new one, recently discarded from the lounge room, to house the reference books

Along with a few stuffed bears.

The job of putting books on shelves falls to the grandchildren, whom I am trying to convince that when they get older, they should too embrace the idea of having a reading room, which my writing room will also be when I eventually get to throw out the accumulation of years of discarded homewares.

Perhaps one day next year…