Image: NASA.gov
Juan Villanueva’s name was often mentioned in the same sentence as Sir Richard Branson and Elon Musk, and yet all he really wanted was to be alone. The thrill of starting one company, amassing a fortune from his work, and then selling it for another fortune had lost its allure, at least since Carrie died.
Carrie, his beloved Carrie. How could he go on without her?
But he did, because that’s what Villanueva was all about, overcoming challenges, even grief and death.
Image: The Daily Sheeple
In the face of AI exerts repeatedly predicting the rise of sex robots, it’s increasingly difficult to insist that such machines strictly belong to a far-off, dystopian future. But some robotics experts predict we’ll soon be doing far more than having sexual intercourse with machines. Instead, we’ll be making love to them—with all the accompanying romantic feelings.
-Olivia Goldhill
“Experts predict human-robot marriage will be legal by 2050”
Quartz
I’ve heard this before. The thing is, I don’t believe it.
Oh sure, I’ve exploited the idea in short stories such as The Perfect Woman, and I’ve written commentaries on this theme like When Your Sex Toy Tattles On You and An AI Sexbot That Can Love You Back, but let’s face it. There’s a long road to travel from sex to love, at least there should be.
Image: BBC News
The Third Hunter and Ellison Time Travel Adventure and a direct sequel to In Search of the Time Traveler.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Josue.”
“Stop that! This is serious. This isn’t when we are supposed to be.”
Josue Hunter and Wyatt Ellison thought they were finally closing in on Heloise Amanda Westcott, the mysterious and elusive time traveler first detected in 1885 England. They’d found H.G. Wells, author of the famous novel “The Time Machine” and confederate of Westcott in Texas in 1940, and persuaded him to reveal the place and time they could locate her.
Wells wrote it down on a pad of paper with the letterhead of the hotel in which he’d been staying. Friday, 15 August 1994, 8150 Olive Avenue, Huntington Beach, California.
“Checking the unitool.” Hunter’s all-purpose utility device was disguised as a wrist watch. He set it to review the most recent log of their trip back in time.
“Damn.”
My sincere condolences to the family. Here’s the full story.
Image: BBC.com
Gunter and his two sons, Phillip and Tang were tending the grazing sheep in the meadow a few kilometers from their village, as they had the past several weeks. Soon, it would be the season to take them in for the shearing, and while that would cause them much effort, it would be a pleasure to sleep indoors again.
They huddled close to the fire, cloaks pulled tightly around them.
“Lad, another ale if you please.” Gunter held out his mug to Phillip, his eldest, who had the flagon by his side.
“As you will, Papa.” Phillip, always cheerful (and the light buzz from the ale was adding to that), readily lifted the flagon and filled Gunter’s mug to the brim.
The trio could afford to relax a bit. The dogs were stationed around the flock and the sheep were at rest for the night. The hired hands would be back from the village by morning.
“Look, Papa!” Tang, two years Phillip’s junior, pointed up into the moonless night sky. The constellations were beautiful and brilliant, but something among them was disturbing their orderly progression.
Image: Children’s Advocacy Center of Grayson County, TX website
Julian was 35 years old when reality became too much for him. It wasn’t so much his dull job at the accounting firm, or his break up with Jill after seven years of living together. His parents think it must have been the disappointment, the loss of hope for the future that took his mind and spirit. He had such expectations at the beginning of November and now in December, they were crushed. So Julian’s parents watched as he sat on the floor of his old room with a coloring book and crayons. He was their little boy again.
This was a piece of flash fiction (less than 100 words in this case) I recently submitted to The Drabble. I received an email from them saying it didn’t meet their needs, so I figured why waste it? Yes, it is a commentary on how some people, at least according to the popular press, are so overwhelmed and dismayed by Donald Trump’s recent election win, that they seem to retreat into less “mature” behavior. I wasn’t poking fun at these individuals, but rather trying to communicate the tragedy involved in such decisions.
Image: ABC.net.au / Rocky Roe
The plague struck swiftly, perhaps not by human standards, but certainly quickly enough to sicken three-quarters of the people of the Earth within fifteen years. At first the disease seemed very widespread and indiscriminate, but five years into the plague, the CDC’s Chief Epidemiologist, Dr. Sandra Fry, determined that it was most virulent in high population centers with a heavy industrial base.
The nation with the largest number of deaths by year five was China, which correlated very highly to their level of pollution and generally poor environmental standards.
However, as the plague progressed, the Euro-Asian continent fell, as did North and South America. By year ten, four billion people were dead. Disposal of the bodies in any civilized manner was impossible due to the shortage of manpower and resources, so they were bulldozed into mass graves.
Orson Welles and H.G. Wells in San Antonio, Texas, October 28, 1940
The Second Hunter and Ellison Time Travel Adventure and immediate sequel to Tracks Across Time.
“Seventy percent of all archaeology is done in the library. Research. Reading.”
“Thank you, Wyatt. I recognize the quote from the 1989 film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. One of Harrison Ford’s lines I believe.”
“Of course you recognize it, Josue. That’s why I said it. Only a Historian would have understood what I meant.”
“Which explains why we’re here, the library I mean.”
“Precisely. We’re here to find our mysterious Time Traveler.”
My two sons, my grandson, and I went to see the Star Wars movie Rogue One last night. We had to slog through snow-covered streets and icy parking lots, but we made it to the theater in one piece.
I’ve been anticipating this film for quite some time, and have heard that it’s one of the best, if not the best Star Wars films ever.
I enjoyed last year’s Star Wars: The Force Awakens very much, but after repeated viewings, came to realize it was just the first three Star Wars films rehashed. J.J. Abrams can’t seem to produce original content for either the Star Wars or Star Trek fanchises.
But Rogue One had a different director and an interesting premise, so I had high hopes.
Warning: This is not a tale of heartwarming enchantment.
Seven-year-old Shelley thought it was a little strange that there was a Department Store Santa seated at the far end of the playground. It was Christmas Eve and so much snow had fallen that Daddy had to spend hours yesterday and today just shoveling it all off of the driveway.
After lunch, she begged Daddy to take her to the playground. She could see it from her backyard and there were other kids playing on the snow-covered swings, slides, and other equipment. Mommy had just put her little brother down for his nap and agreed Daddy should take Shelley out to play. She had a lot of cooking to do to get ready for the rest of the family to come over on Christmas, and wanted them both out of the way.
Daddy took a folding chair with him and sat at the edge of the playground with his cell phone surfing the web.
Shelley took off to play with the other kids, but now they were all gone. Instead, there was Santa sitting on a red chair smiling at her.
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