Tag: Thoughts

A photograph from the inspiration file – 8

A picture can paint a thousand words, or more, or less, but…

…

The interesting thing about a place in the dark, in the distance, and behind a chain wire fence usually means something. Especially when there are mysterious lights involved.

We were at a night sports event, watching over a thousand screaming and yelling kids from five to eighteen pretending to compete in a variety of athletic events.

I was there to nominally to support my granddaughter in her endeavours, but right at that moment, on the far side of the track, what I was really there to see was what was behind the wire fence

“Are you watching, Poppy?”

Well, at that moment I wasn’t, but I did turn just in time to see her clear a meter high high jump and execute an elegent backflip, a result no doubt of the ballet training she had since the age of four. Seven years later those lessons had transformed into a high jumper with a great future.

Except, she couldn’t really care less. It was more about the parents and athletic organisers expectations, than hers. I was there, she told me in a secretive tone, to tell everyone to back off.

if you think spying was a dangerous occupation, then let me tell you trying to navigate a safe path between child and parents, and then the rest of the word, forget it.

So, with my trusty phone camera, slightly modified, I was pretending to take pictures of surrounding trees in the high density lighting for the athletics oval, whilst zooming in on the real target.

And, about to take the money shot, I could feel a tugging on the side of my jacket.

I looked down to see the petulant face of a child not happy.

“You said you were coming to see me perform.”

I had. I looked over at the woman the boss had assigned as my ‘date’, Nancy, and whom I’d introduced as a long time friend who deigned to suffer my invitation so she could meet the girl I was always talking about.

“Yes, Poppy,” she said with an evil undertone. “You said you wanted to see her high jumps. You’d better get over there, while I take some pictures of the trees for you.”

“Why do you want pictures of dumb old trees?” That was a question I would have asked myself, and I didn’t quite have an answer for it.

Nancy did. “Because he’s odd like that. It’s one of the quirks I like about him.” She took the camera out of my hand and shooed us off.

And, heading back to the high jump, she asked, “What’s a quirk?”

“Just ask your father later. He knows all about quirks.”

…

© Charles Heath 2021

The cinema of my dreams – It’s a treasure hunt – Episode 5

My mind will not rest.

Down here, it is summer, and the last few days have been rather hot, well, it is summer after all, but tonight it is particularly hot.

So, as I can’t sleep, I’m lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, otherwise known as the cinema of my dreams.

Where am I?

Well, the location is in keeping with the weather, hot, humid, and cold drinks are mandatory.

I’ve got one now!

…

A sleepless night did nothing to make the idea of going on a treasure hunt and more palatable. I couldn’t say I didn’t see it coming, because Boggs had been hinting he’d found something of his father’s when poking through his old stuff.

I was hoping it was money.

And visiting the bar, I thought that he had found a lead in his quest to find some information about his parents, two people he realized now, he knew very little about.

In that quest, I was only too willing to help.

When he finally told me about the treasure, I didn’t think he was the sort to believe in fairy tales, because everyone knew it was little more than that.

I didn’t flat out debunk the myth, but I could see I was going to have to carefully get him off this track.  Real or not, we were hardly equipped, mentally or physically, to deal with whatever this quest might throw up.

Yes, in my mind’s eye I had a Raiders of the Lost Ark scenario running through my head, from large rolling stones, through to a snake pit.  I hated snakes too.

In fact, with the addition of Boggs uncle Rico in the mix, it seemed to me we would be better off spending our time looking for work rather than using any excuse to not, but that was the problem with our neighborhood, too many people looking for work and not enough jobs.  Prosperity seemed to be everywhere else.

“No lounging around in bed, Sam.”  My mother’s voice came from the kitchen where she would be throwing food into a container for her lunch.

She was suffering from the lack of employment too, being a qualified accounts clerk, but for the time being, working check out at the local supermarket.

A job was a job, but it barely paid the bills.

I made it to the kitchen just as she was about to leave.

“You need to try harder,” she said.  “Walter said they’re looking for people in the warehouse again.  Promise me you’ll go see them.”

I could see the strain of the odd shifts she worked, the fact she didn’t want to be there, but unlike my father, she accepted responsibility, no matter what it cost.

“I promise.”

A kiss on the forehead and she was gone.

The jobs at the warehouse were little more than slave labor, minimum pay, very hard work, and ungratefully supervisors.  Most of those like Boggs and I lasted a week, or less because that way they didn’t have to pay you for the few days you worked.

But it was a job, and it was time I stepped up.

The treasure hunt would have to wait.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

It’s not a writing room unless…

You have this incredible fully working to scale model of an Airbus A380 coming into land…

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This plane is over a meter long and has actually flown as a model aircraft, complete with remote control.

The thrust from the four engines was enough to almost blow the lounge room curtains off their hooks from 40 feet away … and it was a struggle to hold the plane down.

Now I can simulate tornados.

And, I have to say it’s rather awe-inspiring to look at it.

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For those who like the technical details:

The A380 is the largest EPO model you will ever see and with a wingspan of 1520mm and 4 x 56mm ducted fans it is sure to make an impression at any airfield!

Despite it’s size, the A380 is very light and economical to fly, only requiring a 3000mAh 3S battery.

This huge A380 (EPO) model aircraft comes 95% pre-built and includes a powerful 4 x 25A brushless EDF system and steerable nose wheel, just include your own Tx/Rx and battery.

Specs:

Length: 1410mm (55.51in)
Wing span: 1520mm (59.84in)
Flying weight: 1800g
Motor: 2826 Brushless outrunner (3200KV)
ESC: 4 x 25A
Servo: 9g * 5pcs
Battery: 3000~5000mAh 3S1P 45C~65C Lipoly Pack (Required)
EDF Diameter: 4 x 56mm

I want one in my backyard

Just what everyone needs in their backyard:  A Gazebo, or a small bandstand!

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Often when we go to different places, it gives us ideas, sometimes ideas beyond what is possible.

I have always wanted a gazebo, perhaps not on the same grand scale as the one above, but one where we can put a BBQ and a few seats, and relax on a sunny afternoon.

Shade, a cool breeze, a cold glass of wine or beer, and the aroma of meat cooking on an open flame.

But…

Reality sets in.  The backyard isn’t big enough, so my dream will stay just that.

But I will frame the photograph and put it in my office as a reminder that one day, maybe, it might be possible.

Writing a book about a book – Day 35

Time now to bring in the police and this is in the form of Chief Inspector Gator, an odd sort of man who fits the mold of those ubiquitous policemen who don’t look like policemen but have a very sharp mind.

I guess watching too many Columbo episodes has had an effect on me.

The police officer who came to interview Aitchison arrived as I was leaving.   He nodded at me and announced himself as Chief Inspector Gator as I closed the door behind him.  My only thought of him was that he didn’t look like a policeman, and didn’t give him another thought.

Merrilyn’s expression had transformed into one of dismay, like the moment the sun went behind a cloud, and no doubt the result of learning Richardson’s fate.

“Shocking news isn’t it?” she said.

“Not good for the company.  Who found him?”

“One of the building security guards doing his rounds.  He literally fell over him, or so I heard.  There was a blackout or power failure and the lights failed to go back on.  We have been advised it was something to do with a circuit breaker.”

“So there was power everywhere, except that floor?”

“I don’t know.  But news has also just come through advising there was a burglary attempt in the basement computer storeroom.  No one can tell if any equipment has been stolen yet.  I’m sure you will be informed about it soon.”

“Another excuse for Benton to pester me,” I sighed.  “Security must have had a rough night last night.”

“That, and pleading that they are understaffed.  Mr. Aitchison thinks they are trying to use that as an excuse to draw attention away from their lack of responsibility.”  She looked at me with a serious expression, and lowered her voice, “I have to organize an emergency board meeting, and to be honest, I don’t know where to start.  On top of everything, Mr. Halligan is also dead, in tragic circumstances.  I could not imagine dying at home, alone.”

“It’s a terrible business.  By the way, I didn’t get that promotion.  You were right.  There’s a very long list ahead of me.  Until I am summoned again, try not to let it upset you.”

She tried to smile, but her heart was not in it.

When I stepped into the elevator and reached for the 18th-floor button, I realized I had acquired a case of the shakes.  Aitchison’s fear was infections, and perhaps I should have had a drink before I left his office.

As the doors closed, I felt a shiver go down my spine as a thought came into my head, the ramifications of which had many possibilities.  In the greater scheme of things, it would not have registered, not until now.

There was an instance when this new, or other, network could have been installed.

Some months ago we had had the telephone system re-engineered to move away from the conventional land-based systems offered by the major Telco’s and moved to VOIP, a less expensive option.  These new desktop phones, though looking exactly like those they replaced, used the network connection to run.

I had not been asked to supervise their installation, that had been done by a team of experts from the United States, flown out especially to do the work, and at the time, the whole building had been closed off for the entire weekend in order to carry it out.  I came in, just to make sure nothing on our network system had been compromised, but it would have been a perfect opportunity to lay down the foundations of another system.

Whether it was the case or not, the installation crew had given me full access to look over their work, and I’d not seen any indications of anything other than the installation of the telephones.  Of course, I was not looking for anything else, and it was possible they could install almost anything, and I would be none the wiser, simply because I was not a wiring expert.  Even if I looked now, I was not sure what I’d be looking for.

And then there was the ongoing office refurbishment, where whole floors were being evacuated, gutted, and rebuilt.  It had recently been our turn, but our renovation had one minor difference.  The refurbishment had worked around the server room.  It could not be moved or taken offline.

But during the renovation our movements to that floor and the server room had been restricted, and, at times, we had not been allowed near it.

Planned, or coincidental, or something else.

Now away from Aitchison, I was able to think more rationally and consider the points he made.

It was common knowledge Halligan had a bad heart and scheduled to have surgery soon.  His death would not surprise some considering his workload and stress factor, and it was understandable he could have died of a heart attack.  The fact it had occurred now was probably the only reason why it appeared suspicious.

The question was, did Aitchison know more about Halligan than he was letting on?

The elevator arrived on my floor, and I sent those thoughts to the back of my mind.  I’d worry about them later.

© Charles Heath 2016-2021

A photograph from the inspirational file – 9

…

I remeber once being told that if you shoot for the moon, you’ll land in the clouds, if you shoot for the tree tops, you’ll finish up back where you started from.

It was a silly analogy, but I always remembered it when I looked up at the sky and saw clouds.

That was back in those hazy carefree days just after you were finished with school and you had your whole life in front of you. Your parents were there as the safety net, and were still proud of your scholastic achievements, and were not in too much of a hurry to hustle you out of the house.

But what happened when there’s a recession that came upon everyone without any warning.

Stocks plummeted, people lost their life’s savings, those with mortgages and loans suddenly finding that along with unemployment came no income, no ability to pay the bills, and therefore lost everything.

Although I never said it, I was thinking what good was an education when the whole world had gone to hell in a handbasket.

Two things I remember from back then, which in the context of disaster, wasn’t all that long ago. Firstly, my father making us children go camping from before we could walk, and with it, to survive with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and our wits.

It had happened to him, as a member of am expedition in Africa in his younger days, thinking that he might become the next great explorer, or archeologist, and finishing up getting lost, even though he asserted the other members had deliberately left him behind.

And secondly, that it was essential that we forge working relationships with any and all those who were like minded, such as those who wanted to be saved, not those who expected everyone else to so the work. It was obvious he had met a lot of those type of people too.

It served us well.

When nations began turning on each other, when essential resources like electricity and fuel stopped being distributed and rationed, when food suddenly became scarce, that’s when the real trouble started. My father said, at the outset, what would happen, and was glad our mother was not there to see it.

Then, when neighbours attacked neighbours once food became scarce, it was time to leave. The pity of it was, he died defending us, even after offering up some of the food we had stored away, but that had not appeased a hungry or angry mob.

His last words, “Go to where we said we would go, and remember everything I’ve taught you” were etched in my brain, and my brother and I did as he asked.

But, even knowing where we had to go, and how to get there, a plan of action made many years before, and trialled in recent years with success, nothing in the past could have prepared us for the journey.

It was, literally, time to shoot for the moon.

—

© Charles Heath 2021

The cinema of my dreams – It’s a treasure hunt – Episode 6

My mind will not rest.

Down here, it is summer, and the last few days have been rather hot, well, it is summer after all, but tonight it is particularly hot.

So, as I can’t sleep, I’m lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, otherwise known as the cinema of my dreams.

Where am I?

Well, the location is in keeping with the weather, hot, humid, and cold drinks are mandatory.

I’m going to get another one now!

There is such a thing as being in the right place at the right time, as much as there is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I think I got a dose of both that morning.

I ignored the call from Boggs reluctantly, but I still had the world-weary look on my mother’s face fresh in my memory.  As much as I didn’t want to, I headed towards the warehouse and the office where old man Benderby would be, in his Italian suit and cigar, the signs of his prosperity.

Everyone hated him.

In the employee car park, opposite the front gate, I could see Rico and one of Benderby’s sons in earnest conversation.  The sons were as bad as the father, and because we went to school with them, and they were bullies then, not much had changed.

I was curious and tried to get closer, without being seen.

Benderby Junior was yelling, “You’re as useless as that brother in law of yours.  He thought he was smarter than us too, and look what happened to him.  You still owe us ten grand Rico, and my father is getting impatient.”

“Look, I have a special project, it’ll take a few weeks, then you’ll get your money.”

“It better not be some treasure hunt I hear you’re on.  There is no treasure.  That was what your brother in law tried to float, said he had a real map but never showed it to anyone.  It doesn’t exist.  He offered to sell it to me.  Do I look like a fool?”

“No.  But, it’s real.  I’ve seen it.”

Benderby just shook his head.  “Tell you what.  Bring it to me, and if I think it’s real, then we’ll talk.”

With that, Benderby Junior walked off.

Rico didn’t look happy.  Not surprising, because if Benderby thought it was real, then Rico just lost the rights to the treasure.  Or, most likely, any part of it.

Telling Benderby was the last thing he should have done.

 

I went it to the office where I was greeted by the girl on reception.  I;d been to school with her, and she had been friends with Alex Benderby.  It was how she got the job.  It was not what you knew, it was who you knew.

I also knew Alex Benderby, but it was not the same.  He didn’t like people who were smarter than he was, we were, he once told me, threats.  To what, I had no idea.

“Sam.  How are you, haven’t seen you for a while.”

We had been friends of a sort at school, but now working for Benderby, she moved in different social circles.

“Fine, Jenny, as well as can be expected.”  Not one for small talk, I cut to the chase.  “I came to see if there was a job.  My mother keeps at me to do something with my life other than hanging out at home waiting for a ship to come in.”

“I thought you were going to university?”

“Needs money we haven’t got.

At that moment Alex walked in and saw me.  His face was all hostility.

“What are you doing here?”

“The same as every other unemployed person is, looking for work.”

“I thought you university types were too good to work in the warehouse?”  No mistaking the sneer in his tone, or the superiority.

“Alex.”  A bark from behind made both Alex and Jenny jump.  “Get the hell back to work.”  Then he saw me.  “You’re Grace’s kid, Sam?”

“Yes, sir.”  I may hate him but I still knew how to be polite.

“Grace told me you were coming down.”  He looked at Jenny.  “Tell Williams I’m sending over his new paperwork guy.  Tell him I said to treat him properly or he’ll answer to me.”  Then back at me.  “Say hello to your mother from e when you see her.  And that she still owed me dinner.”

Then he was gone.

“Congratulations,” Jenny said.  “Right place, right time.”

It seemed so.

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

Don’t you just love those little notes from the editor?

Although it is necessary, it’s almost as bad as marketing.

For instance, I have been toiling over one of my books for a few weeks after my editor sent in back with an overall complaint that continuity needed some work.

Just that!

Continuity needs some work.

OK, I’ll admit that it was a story I wrote in the mid-1970s, and only just dragged it back out of mothballs. A quick read of the 200 odd pages, making corrections where needed, I thought it held together quite well.

Apparently not.

So, I sat down and read it again, and by the end, was surprised I had the temerity to send it to my editor in such a state.

What sometimes happens when working on a book over a period of time, is that unless you read what you’ve amended from start to finish again, you’re going to be in trouble.

And, yes, I’m in trouble.

So, I’ve had to go back to square one and draw up a continuity plan and then start filling in the gaps, and sowing proper seeds that grow into plot lines later.

That was a few months ago, when I was two-thirds of the way through with a 64-page notebook full of notes to keep the story flowing correctly, and inevitably, the book had grown to 436 pages and was likely to be longer by the end of the process.

And I can see it now, before I send it back, with corrections. New editor terse note to me: the book is too long. Cut, cut, cut.

So, getting back to the drawing board, reading and re-reading, adding and subtracting, and putting in the effort it requires, there’s only one part left to write, one that I keep putting off for some obscure reason.

Pity this wasn’t a movie. Cutting is so much easier.

The new first draft, which should probably be called the second draft, is a few pages over 500, but each and everyone is necessary to relate the story properly. I’ve read it twice, and it all makes sense. Let the editor make suggestions, and like always I will take them under advisement.

Enough with the complaining. It’s time to get back to work and get that last part done.

Then I can move on to the next project.

The importance of book reviews

Self-published authors are fully aware that perhaps the easiest part of the writing journey is the actual writing.  Well, compared to the marketing aspect I believe it is.

I have read a lot of articles, suggestions and tips and tricks to market the book to the reading public.  It is, to say the least, a lot harder to market eBooks than perhaps their hard or paper-back relatives.

This is despite the millions of eReaders out there.

Then there is that other fickle part of the publishing cycle, the need for reviews.

Proper reviews of course.

As we are learning, reviews can be bought.  And Amazon is out there seeking what it calls unverified reviews and the reviewers and it had brought with it very strict control over who can leave a review, especially on Amazon.

Another sote where reviews are taken seriously, is the Goodreads website where I have established a presence, and expect in due course, some reviews.

But, all the advice I have seen and read tells me that reviews should not be paid for, that reviews will come with sales.  It might be a difficult cycle, more reviews means more sales, etc.

And getting those first sales …

Therein lies the conundrum.  It is a question of paying for advertising or working it out for ourselves.  I guess if I were to get more sales, I could afford the advertising … yes, back on the merry-go-round!

And yet, the harder the road, the more I enjoy what I do.  It is exhilarating while writing, it is a joy to finish the first draft, it is an accomplishment when it is published, but when you sell that first book, well, there is no other feeling like it.

Writing about writing a book – Day 34

So it seems that Aitchison, the latest addition to the story, has reservations about what’s is or isn’t going on.  Aitchison is in charge of the security, not only the computer systems, but for everyone, and, of course, the first person the police would go and see.

It’s also time to bring in the CEO, a rather elusive character, but one who will have a great deal to do with our main character for a lot of different reasons.  But, for now, all the reader needs to know is that he exists,  and is very elusive for one particular reason.

Halligan is just another incidental character, significant only because he is also dead, and where there are multiple deaths, there had to be a conspiracy.  Aitchison, of course, is not what he seems, not that we know that yet, but for now, is a man with a problem.

 

I looked Aitchison directly in the eye, so he would not think I was lying. “Since the last debacle, I rarely see Halligan, and, when I do, I can assure you the last thing he wants to do is ask for favors. My last visit was to set up a laptop on his desk, not connected to the network. Does the CEO know anything about this?”

The CEO was almost the equivalent of the invisible man. No one could remember seeing him in the office, or when he visited the last time and was rumored to be at his Nevada ranch most of the time where he had an office. I remember setting up video conferencing for him a year or so ago, but I don’t think it had even been used.
But Aitchison was one of a few who had met him personally.

“I put a call in. He’s at a retreat with the American management team, going through some team-building exercises. I’m waiting for his call, but I think I can safely say he will deny everything, and plead innocence.”

“Has the staff members been questioned?”

“Yes. No one had anything constructive to add. But one other interesting bit of information that did come out of that briefing with the Chief Inspector was that Halligan also attempted to log onto this other network. That’s why I asked you about Halligan.”

Something was not right. Halligan was dumb when it came to computers, and only wanted a computer, not connected to the network. Of course, he needed a networked desktop for email, and sourcing documents, and perhaps the peek at a porn site through the internet, but that was the extent of his involvement. His knowledge of networking was solely based on the background papers I wrote for him when he needed information for meetings and conferences. He even had trouble logging into the network at times, because he kept forgetting his password.

I kept that to myself. Aitchison was probably not interested in anything that would refute his belief of what the situation entailed. He was partially wrong, but that was driven by fear.

“What had Halligan have to say about all of this?”

It was an innocent question, but it drew the sharpest reaction and given a sudden ashen look on his face, the catalyst of his fear. The mere mention of questioning Halligan had caused him to turn white.

“He’s dead too, and conveniently cannot answer any questions. The doctor said it was a heart attack.”

“Dead? Where, when?”

“Early this morning, at home. Apparently, his wife is away, overseas visiting relatives, and neither we nor the police have been able to contact her. I only found out when I tried to call him this morning after the news about Richardson broke, and the police answered the phone.”

He poured a splash of whiskey into the glass and drank it down. If it was to settle his nerves it wasn’t working.

“And you don’t think it was a heart attack?”

“Too convenient, far too convenient, especially so soon after the Richardson thing, and in the light of this other network logon episode. The very two people who allegedly knew about this network both dying of innocent causes? Something is going on here, and we have to get to the bottom of it, before the police, Interpol or any forensic experts, if that’s what they are.”

He poured himself another liberal drink from the bottle and offered me one. I declined. Too early, and my nerves were not yet getting the better of me.

A shiver ran down my spine. I was beginning to buy into his paranoia. It was beginning to look like anyone associated with this secret network found themselves on some sort of hit list. No wonder Aitchison was jumpy. He’d obviously come to the same conclusion I did. He’d been making inquiries, and it might be enough to have his name added to the list.

Telling me about it might just be enough to add my name to that same list. I looked at the whiskey bottle and the glass. It might be time for a nerve steadying drink.

Aitchison was still talking, and I just caught what he was saying, “… it’s your network. People will be asking questions.”

If he was trying to scare me, it was working.

He continued, “The police were rather skeptical when I said we didn’t know the network was in place. I’m to be interviewed next. You shouldn’t be far behind. Forewarned is forearmed.”

He turned to look out at the city. The view was magnificent, despite the wintry weather.
After a minute, he said, “At least there is one irrefutable fact. Richardson was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s the only explanation. I don’t believe he was trying to log into anything, but he was the victim of a random key combination or a glitch in the power supply to the system. You’ve seen it happen yourself when the power goes down momentarily and just enough time elapses to trick the computer into thinking it has to log in again. There was a brief power outage last night, during the storm. It might be worth investigating that event, and the effect on our systems.”

That was not a bad assessment, and one I hadn’t thought of.

“Then, there is something else, the Chief Inspector mentioned in passing, and that was one of the employees claims his building pass card had been stolen. Again, convenient, but the police are questioning him, but according to building security, that pass was used last night.”

“The person who killed Richardson?”

“If you put two and two together and get four. The police aren’t saying much, but that’s the inference I’d draw?”

“And the person with the missing card?”

“A janitor, or maintenance worker, not one of our people. He probably has a police record as long as his arm. You should go. And just a thought. If it was a desktop system connected to the in-house network, then one of our servers had to be used as a gateway. Tell me you installed those special log files when I asked you to last week?”

I had been in two minds about implementing that particular request because in part it when against the privacy regulations we had to adhere to.  After reading the relevant legislation and taking to a consulting security company who had advised we were well within our rights to do so, in the end, I did. And it had given several positive results immediately after its implementation, proving beneficial in tracking down people using the network incorrectly. I’m glad he remembered it. In the panic, it slipped my mind.
“Of course! How do you think I tracked down the troublemaker in Distribution?”

“Good. Start the investigation as soon as you bet back to the floor, but be careful to make sure no one knows about it, or what you are doing. People connected with this seem to be suffering from terminal health problems.”

I stood. I was not sure if I felt suitably inspired.

“I’ll let you know what I find.”

© Charles Heath 2015-2020