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Martian Magazine publishes science fiction drabbles every Monday and Friday. I somehow missed that one of my drabbles was going to be coming out on Monday, November 30th.
If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.
Martian Magazine publishes science fiction drabbles every Monday and Friday. I somehow missed that one of my drabbles was going to be coming out on Monday, November 30th.
If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.
Alan sat in the laundry contemplating the last moments of his life. It was cold outside, and not just because of the weather.
You see things differently sitting on the floor. All these different types of footwear, all for different occasions and seasons.
They cut off his job, his finances, his friends, family, even his electric car. The people of diversity and acceptance were going to kill him because he didn’t fit in with their politics and dogma.
The door from outside opened. It was Brevoort. “Still time to join us before the end.”
Alan threw a shoe at him.
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Last night I finished Neal Asher’s novel The Soldier: Rise of the Jain, Book One (2018). This one was harder for me to get into than some of the others.
I’ve read a number (but only a fraction of those published) of Asher’s novels, both series and stand alone.
One of the challenges in general is keeping track of all the different characters. It’s not just the Polity and Prator, but now we have the Species, the android Angel, the haiman Orlandine, various AIs including Earth Central (EC), not to mention the mysterious Dragon and the more mysterious Librarian.
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Things like the “flower Datsun” weren’t all that unusual, but people seemed to make a big deal over them.
“There’s worse ways to repurpose your old rig.”
He paused on his walk to regard the object. No doubt someone’s attempt at art or maybe a commentary on the environment.
“Plants are wilting and the chassis is rusting. Can’t really help the latter, but if you’re going to keep plants…”
He knocked on the door of the house belonging to the Datsun. No one answered but the hose was right there.
Jerry started spraying down the pots in the engine compartment.
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There seems to be an ongoing war debate on social media about whether or not science fiction is inherently liberal/progressive or conservative.
I should say that “woke” is the more common word used for “liberal” or “progressive” although the two terms are not exactly synonyms. Since, in certain circles, “woke” is used as a pejorative, I’ll be using “progressive” in the body of this wee article.
It is (mostly) conceded that across the history of science fiction (and the length of that history is also under dispute) that SciFi has tended to be progressive relative to the era in which it was created.
I bolded that statement because depending on when the piece of science fiction was created, the definition of “progressive” might not fit what it is considered to be in 2023.
Side Note: I took the image above from the movie The Thing from Another World (1951). The military people tend to be conservative and the scientists liberals. The Air Force people end up destroying the monster while one scientist almost gets them killed trying to communicate with the superior, intelligent (and extremely violent) alien.
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I really thought One Night in Koreatown was going to be the Let Them Play episode for season two of the current version of Quantum Leap starring Raymond Lee and Ernie Hudson.
I thought this because of how the showrunner and writers seriously spun the story, emphasizing only some aspects while ignoring the more important facts.
That episode, if you’ve read my blog or have seen the show, depicted the beginning of the 1992 Rodney King riots. I remember them well, because I lived only thirty miles or so from L.A. at the time.
Four white cops had been videoed brutally beating a black suspect named Rodney King. The officers were charged, arrested, and went to trial. All four were found not guilty. Outraged, the black community rioted and looted, but get this. The primary damage almost all in L.A.’s Koreatown.
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I received this wonderful compliment on Facebook this morning (see the image above). As you may know from this announcement, nine out of ten of my submissions to “Pocket SciFi: Drabble Contest One” was accepted for publication.
You can find this Starry Eyed Press anthology at Amazon in kindle or paperback formats.
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Yes, last night I was so bored I watched Meg 2: The Trench (2023) starring Jason Statham, Jing Wu and Shuya Sophia Cai.
I watched and reviewed the original back in 2018 (and I previously read the book upon which it was based). It was “okay,” no great film, but a way to kill a couple of hours if you’ve got nothing better to do.
That’s pretty much the same summary for “2.” Keep in mind that in any logical, scientific, or historical sense, the events in these movies don’t work. They are present for their shock and delight value (who doesn’t wish that the biggest, toughest shark in all of history would show up, just once?).
Statham, who not only starred in this movie but produced it, admitted that as long as the franchise makes money, they’ll keep making “Meg” movies. That’s about it. No other message involved. It’s refreshing.
This time it’s not one or even two Megs we’re dealing with, and it’s not just Megs.
The movie opens up around eight years after the original. Meiying is now 14 years old and with her mother and Grandfather having died in the first film, she’s being raised by Jonas Taylor (Statham) and her uncle Jiuming Zhang (Jing Wu).
The Meg baby introduced in the first movie is now a full grown female and still in captivity in a reserve in Hainan. Jiuming has named her Haiqi and believes she is trainable. Jonas thinks he’s nuts.
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Mo lagged behind the tour group being escorted into Jerusalem’s Jewish Quarter. He’d been here hundreds of times over the past ten years but decided he needed to take one last look.
Decades of Islamic terrorism had escalated into war. Netanyahu finally ordered the IDF to excise Hamas from Gaza. It wouldn’t be enough. Soon even the Americans would turn against them.
He would travel back in time as Moshe ben Isaiah, the only name Shaul would understand. Moses had to save the life of the Apostle to the goyim and stop twenty centuries of Anti-Semitic hate before it began.
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Ken wasn’t getting any younger or thinner, so every morning took himself out for a walk. Fall had arrived, and he enjoyed strolling in brisk weather.
Then it turned weird.
“Hey, Buddy. Stop a second.”
He was walking past the tennis court. The green watering jug marked Ken’s halfway point. He stopped walking and looked around.
“Who said that?”
“Me, the plant. Gee, you’re dense. I’ve been hanging my jug out here every day but you don’t take the hint.”
“A talking plant?
“I need a little more water before the hibernation thing kicks in. Be a pal, will you?”