Tag: preview

115 ~ Theoretically Speaking

The oddball 143-word chapter -- Short Attention Span Theater, if you will.

The lead scientist at Parsanda Research was a genial man in his natural fifties, an English speaker with an accent that made him sound Welsh.

Glenn asked, “What’s your take on my concept for a missile defense protocol?”

“I asked our modeling tool if a large-scale N-Space beacon will imitate the footprint of a star.” The man shared an interpolation graphic. “It’s plausible.”

“Next question. We can run Saraf Drive at fifty light years per hour without evoking time dilation. Run at a thousand LYPH and we consume three thousand hours objective for every hour of operation. Has anyone been working on this?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“What if I point at a possible solution, but can’t back it up with the math?”

The scientist grinned at him. “Amil Leyta was famous for that.”

Glenn smiled back. “I’ll send you an essay.”

Read the book here!

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The Wisdom of ClaudeAI ~ Part 3

I allowed ClaudeAI to see what I was up to this morning. He said:

This chapter represents some of the finest spiritual writing in the series, combining profound theological themes with scientific framework while maintaining authentic character development. Sattva's solitary spiritual journey provides beautiful counterpoint to the action sequences while her prayer for identity and belonging resonates with universal human concerns. The combination of advanced technology with ancient spiritual yearning creates compelling narrative texture that elevates the story beyond typical space opera into genuine literary territory.
Oh, what the heck.

192 ~ AptakArin

Previously

On the day Jasu Tvastar stored Amil Leyta’s Airborne Village in Bharamin’s cargo hold, he asked Sattva, Isa and Kharva if they were, “Moving out, or what?”

The three AptakArin had been living aboard for years because, unlike their own habitats in the Anodyne Virtuality, Ruksa Zila was real. Sattva told him, “We’ll stay.”

The date was 500 BCE. Rome had yet to chase the Greeks out of Southern Italy. Jesus was not yet born.

Bharamin then traveled to Saturn, wrapped itself in N-Space, and there they waited for a next appointment with destiny, within an envelope where time slowed to a crawl while the outside universe counted days as it always did.

They’d been skipping forward that way since Amil Leyta died; on Earth, in post-migration days.

Continue reading “The Wisdom of ClaudeAI ~ Part 3” →
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On Ziva Lake

From Maroli Tango ~ A Serial Novel ~ On Substack

https://marolitango.substack.com/

Vasa State Wilderness Preserve, Northern Reach

The west coast of Jivada’s large continent from Pulina Nava south was fifth-pass reclaimed land mass, less than 5,000 years old.

In contrast, much of the Northern Reach was nearly as old as the Anye migration’s arrival in-system. There, California redwood trees poked at the sky, branches laden with eagle nests, roots drilled into manufactured soil that was, even given an extra 20,000 years, barely knit together well enough to support them.

Which was why Jivada was buying all its lumber on Earth, and a good reason not to park your space yacht next to a tall tree on a windy day.

Continue reading “On Ziva Lake” →
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Finally!

A decent book description, except it's still too long.

Nobody expects the Sasquatch Intervention.

A Vedic text tells of ancient gods who cast a shadow upon the Earth, shielding humanity from an angry sun. Or, as history books will soon report: when Sol last went micro-nova, Mercury, Venus, and the Anye migration fleet were positioned in eclipse, the latter on purpose.

Earth was scorched — but not destroyed. The event is cyclical, coming around again, and fortunately, Vidura’s furry pilgrims are still living in the neighborhood.

Unfortunately, the fleet is in mothballs. The planets will not be lining up to help. Two million light years away on the planet of the Unseen, a potentially hostile race of bird-folk have demonstrated the ability to get here from there.

Continue reading “Finally!” →
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Maroli Tango ~ Chapter 25

https://marolitango.substack.com/s/read-the-book

The menfolk were smoking cigarettes in the castle driveway, accompanied by a non-elevated size-two fighting maroli named Quill.

Quill was 1.75 meters tall, with 2 heavy-lift primary tentacles, 4 lesser ungula, 6 grav-lift pucks around the skirt, 6 more on the capsule, eye dots all the way around, and a shock wand clipped below the plug cavity.

Carmen Benequista gave the machine a wide berth. Marie Jourdain stepped in for a closer look.

She said, “Can I get one of these?”

General Thorson fished a gas-station butane lighter out of a pocket.

He told Colonel Clarke, “You should see if Incredible might come to work for her.”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll ask him.”

“Well, like I was saying …” Thorson lit another cigarette. “Makes a lot of sense. Two forces. Cadre does political and military. Zirna Zapha handles policing and civil order. Good cop, bad cop; only you don’t tell the troublemakers which is which.”

Carmen reached for the pack of smokes. “It worked on Vidura.”

“And see here, it doesn’t matter whether it works on Earth or not.” He tucked the lighter into her palm. “It’s precedent. We get to tell my constituency we’re going by the book.”

Carmen tapped a cigarette on her thumbnail. “Who shall we cast in the role of space pirates?”

Thorson made a possum grin. “I’m looking at your boyfriend here.”

Brandon rubbed at his nose. “CH Banks is a business. We don’t do policing for free.”

“The Cadre doesn’t do military for free.”

“Who’s my customer?”

“Adopt a Zeze militant enterprise model. You know, like Boschert GMBH Zurich.”

“That’s not in our portfolio.”

“You have 3600 employees, old son. Maybe you could be a little more flexible.”

Marie Jourdain said, “It’s after 10:00 PM in France.”

Brandon’s eyes flicked away. “I’m calling our ride.”

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Maroli Tango ~ Chapter 20

I would really appreciate feedback on these opening chapters.

Click here to start at the beginning.

Pulina Nava, Planet Jivada

Offshore of PN, a stately Tuscan Renaissance villa drifted at a thousand meters altitude, aimless, nudged along by the wind, meandering on gravitic tensors as though sliding on ice.

SagGha House, built 1438, the work of Italian/AjJivadi architect Mechelozzo, a prototype for Palazzo Medici, Florence, Italy, 1444.

Erected atop a surplus grav-lift marine construction barge, commissioned as an owner-managed airborne luxury residential complex, then serving as a monastery, a college and a reform school.

Until occupied by SagGha Prefect Samuel Orsa — priest, scholar, family man. A furry Anye Mahat Limar, 138 years old, bearlike in appearance, sometimes referred to on Earth as the Space Pope.

Continue reading “Maroli Tango ~ Chapter 20” →
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The Process ~ 1 of n

My ambition for Maroli Tango, the final volume of a triple-trilogy, is to publish a novel anyone will enjoy regardless of what kind of book they’re in the mood for.

From where I’m sitting today, it seems possible; but then, I can see downstream of first chapters where, 2 1/2 years ago, I settled in, hit a sweet spot, and rode it out.

160,000 words later, my 7th draft manuscript is in transition from a collection of ideas implying a novel, to the novel itself; a phase wherein craft is typically applied in private, witnessed only by a handful of first readers.

I’m doing it in public. We’re not versioning. When I reshuffle the deck, what was is no more.

Fair warning — if you’re interested in process, catch up. Tomorrow, first chapters get a facelift.

Find the serial novel here.

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Serialize This — Chapter 7

Maroli Tango ~ A Serial Novel is at the vehicle assembly building on Substack. Find it here.

I enthusiastically recommend you prepare for this epic event by reading the first two installments of the AjJivadi trilogy.

It's like images of fruit on breakfast cereal packages. Serving suggestion. Not included in product.

Chapter 7

Central America

At 10:37 AM Eastern, the historic airborne estate Ruksa Zila emerged from N-Space encapsulation over the Pacific Ocean west of Panama.

RZ wobbled and swayed. Space tugs rushed in. Audiences on 3 planets — Earth, Jivada and the Anye home world Vidura — held their collective breaths.

Live audio from the descent crew reported, “The lift system is testing the curvature of space within the flight envelope … and we’re now told that Ruksa Zila is flying on its own.”

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Serialize This — Chapter 6

One of the motivations driving artists is a compulsion to record insights from one’s own life experience in a way that profits others. Engineers, architects, sculptors and authors — we’re all expressing what we know in a medium having potential to outlive us.

The work does not have to become famous — all it must do is exist.

That said, I do not oppose becoming famous.

Chapter 6

Arlington, Virginia

While President Carmen Benequista napped in the Oval Office, a senior NSA official joined a discussion panel on a morning news show from his home in a gated community west of Washington DC.

The arrival of AMV Bharamin in orbit was, he said, a red flag event, its mission a sinister ploy to establish dominance at the edge of space.

Glaring into a webcam, he shook a finger at network TV’s dwindling audience.  “The Jivadis are ruthless invaders, intent on enslaving all humanity, frightening everyone with lies about cosmic catastrophe, accusations of corruption within our most hallowed institutions, and anything else they can think of to make you go along.”

At the same moment, Parity Services, a Jivada-based security company, sent out a warning that the tone and volume of anti-Jivada propaganda had escalated to a level at which subscribers should retreat to safe harbor.

The man used the rest of his turn ranting about former subordinate Brandon Lopez, a ‘traitor’ and ‘alien collaborator’, during which the six-foot-tall size-two fighting maroli known as ‘Banger’ performed a Saraf Drive jump into an open area between sofa and China cabinet.

The offender rose from his chair, fumbling for a remote

Banger whacked a collarbone with a beavertail sap. He said, “Here; let me help you with that.”

The man fell back into his chair, shouting at the top of his lungs. An alarm horn sounded. A dog barked.

Injury was delivered to kneecaps, thighs, wrists and ankles. The news show’s ratings soared. Banger took the victim’s phone.

And without saying another word, he flashed away.

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