Thryn - MVN - Official Chapter 1

She woke with a start, back in her bunk at SA-159.  The hum of the engines reassuring to her ears as her brain slowly came back into focus.  She wasn't used to dreaming much these days and this was the third time in the last six months.  The sweat on her skin was already starting to chill and the dampness made her sheets almost icy to the touch.  She shifted until her body was on something drier and tried to go back to sleep.  Even without a clock, she knew there were only a few more hours until Earth moon-rise.  Through the thickest walls on the farthest ship, it would whisper her name and call her from sleep; an unrequited love that neither of them could forget.  

Thryn tossed and turned in her bunk but sleep had completely receded from her and left her mind wondering along the shores of reality.  Humans could normally adjust their sleeping schedules to fit wherever they happened to be; they would fall into harmony with the nearest system and rely on those foreign stars to govern their days and nights.  The space stations were a little trickier, though,  with the humans experiencing about 15 sunrises on average in a single day, depending on the system and the station’s proximity to the central star, of course. Regardless, she'd never been able to break free of the Earth’s dictations and the moon continued to push and pull at her.

She leaned over to check the time and realized she was back on schedule with the ship’s clocks.   There was no point in trying to sleep any longer, so she finally crawled out of bed.  It immediately retracted back into the wall of her cramped room and the overhead lights came on.

“Good Evening, Thryn,” the computer’s voice greeted her.  “Would you like to hear the evening news?”

“Can you just give me the highlights, computer?”

“There is one item pertaining to the taxation of liquor, that might be of interest to you.”  In this incarnation she had taken up the role of bar owner at one of the pubs in the lower sector.  It allowed her to work when she wanted and still keep the appearance of having to make a living. 

“Save that item for me to review later.  Anything else?”  Thryn started the water in the shower.  It would be a few minutes before she stepped into the glass enclosure, the showers were never warm enough on this station and started out practically ice cold.  The humans complained about it every morning, but she mourned this inconvenience even more.  It wasn't that the cold bothered her, in fact her body let her live in conditions most humans could never bare, but she longed to feel warmth coursing through her.  A hot shower was the closest she ever came to replicating the sensation for herself without the aid of blood.    

“Joshua Monoceros, has arrived on board this afternoon for a benefit performance this Friday.”  Thryn stopped deader than usual.

“What benefit?”  

“The Red and Magenta Cross joint benefit concert tour.  The performance will be at the SA-159 Amphitheater.  Should I reserve tickets for you, Thryn?”  

“No, computer, thank you. That’s all for now.”  

Here was a prime example of the vampire living his life out loud.  Joshua Monoceros had been on the fame circuit for the last ten years.  He’d reached super stardom with his passion for helping charities, specifically those with a large supply of blood in their vaults, and was often depicted as an angel of mercy in the media.  They’d met once about a century ago and it had left a bad taste in Thryn’s mouth.  If it was coincidence, she just had to stay out of his way.  She weighed her odds, she'd never really been that lucky, and determined it was better to find him first.  She opened the door to the shower and waited for the steam to greet her, but the water had already run back to cold.  

******

Out in the thoroughfare the humans brushed past her; they were preoccupied with their minuscule lives and did not notice the monster within their midst.  Really they saw what they wanted to see and nothing more.  Thryn felt intoxicated with the scent of them and the warm caresses as they flowed around her.  

“Which one, which one?” she thought to herself as they skittered here and there.  It had to be someone healthy, someone strong enough to lose a pint or two and not draw medical attention to her habits.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall specimen staring her down.  He was muscular and rugged, probably a freighter worker stopping over.  He looked older, but she guessed he was about 35.  It was a decent length of time for the body to mature and gave a richness to the blood provided they made an effort to take care of themselves.  There was no need to open up a psychic link between them, his intentions were painted across his face and the hunger in his eyes mirrored her own.  It really was not polite to play with one’s food, but he radiated arrogance and that made it all the more irresistible.  He sauntered over to the post she had taken up against the corner of a shop and leaned into her, resting his forearm above her head against building.  

“Hey,” he started, “my name is Kyle.”   Kyle played with the collar on her shirt before finally asking, “What is your name?”  

“Does it really matter?”  

“No, I guess it really doesn't,” he agreed letting his hand roam lower to graze her breast.  Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the alley.  He pushed her up against the wall and began to fumble at her clothing, “come on, I don't bite.”

“I do, ” she purred as she pulled him closer to her.  Their eyes met and she opened the part of herself that let her control the humans.  Some called it glamour, some called it mind control, the result was still the same.  All the tension in his muscles released and she could feel his mind open to her. There was so much floating around in there.  He had come in this afternoon, as she had suspected, though not on a freighter.  A transport ship was a little fancier than she had expected but what surprised her was that Joshua Monoceros had been on the same transport.  Kyle was not part of the entourage, but his memories were offering a huge head start for her.   She stroked the side of his face with the back of her hand and he tilted his head to reveal his neck.  “That's a good boy”

Thryn - World Building - 1 hour timed writing

This world is so dark and grey; the sun shines through a dark filter and can’t seem to reach the lonely souls scrambling around on the ground.  It provides light without warmth and you can feel the chill creeping into your bones long before the winter actually makes its appearance.  Even fair weather days don’t seem to inspire and the people trudge along with half-vacant expressions. They are lost without their beacon.  I’ve watched them for generations on this colony, pushing their way through the landscape like ants.  Roads course through the green, ebbing and flowing like concrete rivers.  New homes and fields appear on each supply run; Entire communities rising, flourishing, and then falling into disrepair.  Husks of human ingenuity left behind to fend for themselves against the harsh elements of this foreign world.

But up here there is one season and the sun patiently waits.  In this portion of the atmosphere between the planet and outer space, it appears as it wants to all year long; reaching out to wrap you in blue sky and fluffy white clouds.  Protected by the glass on the cockpit, I can almost remember that feeling of hope most humans experience when they get above the cloud line.  That realization that one’s place in this life is so small and insignificant in the context of the universe.   But I’ve been here longer than the idea for their terraformed planet and realize I have more in common with the universe than the pestilence that crawls along the landscape below.   My people are not constrained by the element of time and we make patience an art form.

 ******

“On the eve of one’s last sunset, when one first goes to ground, there is a transformation that occurs while you sleep.  Between the soil, the blood, and the sun that has saturated them both for more than a millennia, there is a unique bond.  When we are forming our new bodies in this nutrient rich culture, the sun ingrains itself and is encoded to our very DNA.  This sun on this planet will forever hold sway over your habits and the stars surrounding other worlds will never compare.   Perhaps, when you are older, you will be able to venture as far from your home as I do, but you will always feel it calling to you.”

Notes:

Vampires cannot be created in space stations – it requires the soil and the sun of a planet

Thryn - Creative Writing#1

It was a beautiful day, the weather was starting to show its winter colors and the air held slightly more chill than it had the previous week.   Winter coats were out in the park but there were still plenty of people outside trying to squeeze as much sunshine out of the fallen leaves as they could.  If the trees had not been as bare, she probably never would have seen it huddled up under the bushes.  Her gaze had been drawn to some movement ahead of her on the path -  two eyes stared back at her.   It was some kind of animal, scared and shaking in the underbrush, not really a dog but it really wasn't anything else.  There was a mutual sense of otherness, it whimpered and cowered away from her as she reached out to it.  Somehow she managed to catch it and bundle it up in her coat before anyone else could see it.  It squirmed in her arms and nearly broke free several times.  Its cries were growing louder and a small crowd was watching as Thryn moved out of the park and back to her apartment.  She felt compelled to protect this bizarre animal, but could not be entirely sure from what.  Her head felt fuzzy as she tried to sort through the details.  There was something special about this creature, something that was important to the planet.  She heard footsteps on the roof and hid the thing only moments before someone came crashing through her window.  There were men in black masks and clothes pouring through the window and her only exits were being cut off.  She could feel the panic rising in her throat.

That's when she woke with a start, back in her bunk at SA-159.  The hum of the engines reassuring to her ears as her brain slowly came back into focus.  She wasn't used to dreaming much these days and this was the third time in the last six months she'd dreamt about this creature.  The sweat on her skin was already starting to chill and the dampness made her sheets almost icy to the touch.  She shifted until her body was on something drier and tried to go back to sleep.  Even without a clock, she knew there were only a few more hours until Earth moon-rise.  

The sun always spoke to her, it did not matter how long it had been since they had last met.  Through the thickest walls on the farthest ship, it would whisper her name and call her from sleep; an unrequited love that neither of them could forget.  It had been easy at first, catch a freighter out to the farthest star system, live most of your life within the metal walls of a ship.  A large enough colony or base and no one ever questioned the odd sickness that struck the crew.  The occasional death was even expected this far out in space.  She’d been surprised her people had not thought of it sooner and disappointed that few had followed her.  

There were drawbacks, of course. The meals eaten by the crew members, though chock full of all the nutrients she required in their blood, lacked a certain flavor that made it especially enjoyable.  On the positive side, she was able to commiserate with them wholeheartedly whenever they would complain about the rations they received and how they longed for the grain-fed cows of home.  Even though most humans on the ships were paler than Earth Humans could ever be, she was more so and the lighting in the ships did little to downplay that fact.  On Earth, she would have been relegated to the shadows and her marble skin would have been easier to hide.  However, some of the lesser stars out here were barely a threat through the solar glass of these newer models; leaving one with a mild sunburn at most and tanning the skin for a significant period of time at best.  

Lately, though, she found herself picking routes closer and closer to Earth.  There were stars of equal and greater power throughout the universe, but the Earth’s Sun still controlled the ebb and flow of her appetite in these far reaches.  And now, it was beckoning her home for some purpose she had yet to puzzle out.  She had passed countless systems in her years and none of their stars ever pulled at her the way her own had.  Its golden bands were woven deeply into her veins and she served at its pleasure.  

Thryn tossed and turned in her bunk but sleep had completely receded from her and left her mind wondering along the shores of reality.  Most humans could adjust their sleeping schedules to fit wherever they happened to be; they would fall into harmony with the nearest system and rely on those foreign stars to govern their days and nights.  This was easier, of course, in the colonies where the planets or moons turned on an axis and there were more viewing portals for natural light.  The space stations were a little trickier  with the humans experiencing about 15 sunrises on average in a single day, depending on the system and the station’s proximity to the central star, of course.  The ones most affected by these excessive dawns were the crew members who had access to viewing stations or the control deck.  Their bodies never seemed to find the right rhythm and they walked around with perpetual dark circles under their eyes.  Only the officers and those employed doing menial tasks in the belly of the stations found a proper rest on a regular basis.  The officers because they were provided with everything and the others because they were provided with nothing.  She had never been able to break free of the Earth’s dictations and could pass herself off in the lower levels more easily.

Thryn’s existence in space relied on her ability to appear as uninteresting as possible and pass amongst the lower level crew members as an equal.  She learned years ago that the key to living in public was to be as inconspicuous as possible or to go completely overboard and demand every one’s attention by adopting a certain celebrity.  She had tried them both over the course of her time in this existence and found  fame was too time consuming to maintain as a pretense.  Even when the humans latched on and perpetuated the myth for her, it required too much energy  and came with too little freedom to be the least bit enjoyable.  

In this incarnation she had taken up the role of bar owner of one of the pubs in the lower sector  of SA-159.  It allowed her to work when she wanted and still keep the appearance of having to make a living. She was back on schedule with the ship’s clocks and should make an appearance when the patrons would notice her.  Once the decision had been made there really was no point in trying to sleep any longer, so she finally crawled out of bed.  It immediately retracted back into the wall of her room and the overhead lights came on.

“Good Evening, Thryn,” the computer’s voice greeted her.  “Would you like to hear the evening news?”

“Can you just give me the highlights, computer?”

“There is one item pertaining to the taxation of liquor, that might be of interest to you.”

“Save that item for me to review later.  Anything else?”  Thryn had started the water in the shower.  It would be a few minutes before she stepped into the glass enclosure, the showers were never warm enough on this station and started out practically ice cold.  The humans complained about it every morning, but she mourned this inconvenience even more.  Generating the pretense of body heat was necessary at times, but she could only send out the sensation to others through mental trickery.  A hot shower was the closest she ever came to replicating the sensation for herself without the aid of blood.   It was not just the appetite that drove her to hunt, it was also the warmth their blood carried.  A full meal could keep her warm for days, but those were rare in such close quarters.  The cold did not bother her and her body let her live in conditions most humans could never bare, but she longed to feel the warmth coursing through her.   

“Joshua McSuperstar, has arrived on board this afternoon for a benefit performance this Friday.”  Thryn stopped deader than usual.

“What is the benefit for?”  

“The Red and Magenta Cross joint benefit concert tour.  The performance will be at the SA-159 Amphitheatre.  Should I reserve tickets for you, Thryn?”

“No, computer, thank you. That’s all for now.”

Here was a prime example of the vampire living his life out loud.  Joshua McSuperstar had been on the fame circuit for the last ten years.  He’d reached super stardom with his passion for helping charities, specifically those with a large supply of blood in their vaults, and was often depicted as an Angel of mercy in the media.  They’d met once about a century ago and it had left a bad taste in Thryn’s mouth.  If it was coincidence, it was better that she stayed out of the luxury levels until after the concert.  If it wasn’t, he’d find her no matter where she was.  She weighed her odds, it could be a coincidence that he was this far out, but she had never really been that lucky.  She opened the door to the shower and waited for the steam to greet her, but the water had already run back to cold.  

“Okay,” she thought to herself, “he’s already starting to piss in my cornflakes.”  First things, first.  She would pick up a quick snack, and allow herself to feel human for at least a few moments,  and then she would have to hunt down Josh before he found her.  

Out in the thoroughfare the humans brushed past her; they were preoccupied with their minuscule lives and did not notice the monster within their midst.  Really they saw what they wanted to see and nothing more.  Thryn felt intoxicated with the scent of them and the warm caresses as they flowed around her.  

“Which one, which one?” she thought to herself as they skittered here and there.  It had to be someone healthy, someone strong enough to lose a pint or two and not draw medical attention to her habits.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall specimen staring her down.  He was muscular and rugged, probably a freighter worker stopping over.  He looked older, but she guessed he was about 35.  It was a decent length of time for the body to mature and gave a richness to the blood provided they made an effort to take care of themselves.  There was no need to open up a psychic link between them, his intentions were painted across his face and the hunger in his eyes mirrored her own.  It really was not polite to play with one’s food, but he radiated arrogance as he sauntered over to the post she had taken up against the corner of a shop and that made it all the more irresistible.  He leaned into her and rested his forearm above her head on the building.  

“Hey,” he started, “my name is Kyle.  I am about to say something incredibly cliche and slightly creepy.”   Kyle played with the collar on her shirt before finally asking, “What is your name?”  

“Does it really matter?”  

“No, I guess it really doesn't,” he agreed letting his hand roam lower to graze her breast.  Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the alley.  He pushed her up against the wall and began to fumble at her clothing, “come on, I don't bite.”

“I do, ” she purred as she pulled him closer to her.  Their eyes met and she opened the part of herself that let her control the humans.  Some called it glamour, some called it mind control, the result was still the same.  All the tension in his muscles released and she could feel his mind open to her. There was so much floating around in there.  He had come in this afternoon, as she had suspected, though not on a freighter.  A transport ship was a little fancier than she had expected but what surprised her was that Joshua McSuperstar had been on the same transport.  Kyle was not part of the entourage, but his memories were offering a huge head start for her.   She stroked the side of his face with the back of her hand and he tilted his head to reveal his neck.  “That's a good boy”

 

It's the Final Countdown...

Thirty years ago, 1 month and 16 days after I was born, the first Space Shuttle was sent into orbit.  Though it wasn't until 1982 that NASA began using the Space Shuttle on actual operational flights, I can't help but feel a kinship with it.  Today, the last Space Shuttle flight occurred.  I've written before about the space program and what a shame it is that, as a country, we don't have the drive we once had in this arena.

image from wikipedia

 "Just four astronauts—Christopher Ferguson (Commander) , Douglas Hurley (Pilot), Sandra Magnus (Mission Specialist 1), and Rex Walheim (Mission Specialist 2)—are conducting the 135th and last space shuttle mission on board Atlantis."  Listening to NPR, I learned that this is one of the smallest crews in the history of the Space Shuttle and there is a very good reason for this.  Since Atlantis is the last of the Space Shuttles, there isn't an emergency back-up in case something were to go wrong during the mission.  So the astronauts would have to move into the International Space Station until the Russian Soyuz Spacecraft can bring them home.   As you can see from the photo to the right, there is a big size difference between the Soyuz Spacecraft and the Space Shuttle we're retiring.  The Space Shuttle was used to transport the different modules of the ISS into space and the Soyuz has a limit of four people.  I also learned on NPR that the Soyuz Spacecraft will be the only way to travel to and from the ISS for now.   

It makes me wonder at the future for the ISS.  I know that it has only recently been reprieved through 2020 and I was reading on Wikipedia that the United States doesn't currently have the means to de-orbit the part of the ISS for which it is responsible until a replacement is found for the Space Shuttle.  So will the ISS continue to be maintained after 2020 via the Soyuz and commercial space flights or will it linger in space until our government decides what to do with it.  If the current battle over our debt ceiling is any indicator, I have a feeling that it will remain in space until it becomes a problem we're not prepared to handle.

Stories from Ireland

So my dad has this habit of telling stories for entertainment value.  The problem is that he is likely to change a detail or two for "entertainment" purposes, or to make a story better, thus resulting in a twisting of events the likes of which haven't been seen by those other than History textbook editors.  Last night, while out for dinner with Dad, StepDad and Stepdad's high school friends, my dad starts to tell a story about my most drunken night in Ireland.  Most of the events were the same, and I'll admit I've had my fun getting a little mileage out of the story myself, but it's always awkward to hear about one's own antics.

The Real Story, as I tell it:

It starts with a couple of beers at a local pub in Cork.  Dad's friend, H, who lived there was determined to send us back to Dublin with a raging hangover.  Some time after my third beer, Dad comes back from the bathroom and tells me that there is a 29 year old girl from Chicago and she had two guys buying her drinks.  He comments that I am prettier than this girl and I could certainly get those guys to buy me drinks instead.  I laugh, but think nothing more of it.  Then H brings us all a shot of Whiskey, after which my dad says, "I bet you could."  And I started thinking, "I bet I could."

So I go over to the bar area, under the pretense of buying a round for the table.  I hear the girl talking to the guys and at first I think twice about embarking on this bet.  But then I hear her using the, what I call, "stupid girl" routine.  You know the one.  Anything and everything they said she knew absolutely nothing about and would they please tell her everything because they were absolutely the most interesting people in the entire world.  They asked her what type of drink she would like and she asked them for an "Irish Car Bomb." First of all, that is just rude.  Second of all, they don't drink those in Ireland.  She has to explain to the bartender and the guys exactly what it is.

I take that opportunity to interrupt the conversation and tell her that I couldn't help but notice she was American. She tells me she's from Chicago and I immediately ask her about Devil In The White City. She had heard of it but hadn't read it yet.  So I launch into my respect for Landscape Architects and how it's akin to the Space Progam, etc.  The guys say, "you're very passionate."  I say "About Landscape Architecture?  Naw, I just read the book.  Now what I'm really passionate about is...."  They ask me what kind of drink I want and refer to Chicago's "Car Bomb."  I say I can drink anything they can and if they wanted to test it they should pick a whiskey off the shelf.  They did and were amazed that I could drink it with relative ease.

Dad interrupts the story at this point to say that he was returning from yet another bathroom trip and he sees the girl furiously text message someone while I'm conversing.  She eventually excuses herself and leaves for the evening. It's then that I realize not only have I won, but I have the full attention of these two Irish gents.  So it would have been rude to go sit down with my friends and ignore them the rest of the night.  I talk to both of them and then the one I didn't find particularly attractive asks me, "How strong are your hands?"

My mind thinks of all sorts of answers and reasons why he would ask this, none of them I would repeat to my father.  So instead I say, "Why do you need to know?"

"Because I have 70 cows to milk in the morning," he says.  This is by far the worst pick-up line I've ever heard.

"Does that usually work with local girls?" I ask.  The the attractive one backs him up and say that he is indeed a dairy farmer.  But the unattractive one has already moved on to greener pastures.  Pretty much that is the meat of the story.  I stayed and talked a little bit with the attractive guy and even exchanged e-mail addresses.  I had no fear of drinking anything because I knew I had three people who would make sure I didn't leave without them.  (And H is pretty scary at 6 feet.)  Dad came over eventually and told me it was time to go, by that point I'd already had another two beers and one more shot of whiskey so I was ready to leave.

I stumbled back to the hotel somehow and then realized walking up stairs was not going to work.  So I ended up crawling up the carpeted stairs on my hands and knees.  I know it wasn't pretty, but it was better than falling down.

The Difference of A Decade

I came across this posting, "The Difference A Decade Can Make" on my Google Reader yesterday and it got me thinking.  I have been down on technology recently and didn't really have a perspective for how far we've come in the last decade.  I kept thinking about the power of flight being harnessed in 1908 and then landing on the moon about 60 years later.  I wondered why we hadn't colonized the moon at this point or seen that type of advancement in a similar amount of time.

from http://dangreenblatt.com/blog/2008/08/04/our-parents-wrote-letters/

But this post really gave me a very different perspective on the technological advances we take for granted every day.  It's very easy to see the difference between flying and landing on the moon.  But how much thought have I really given to the cell phone I didn't have ten years ago to the one I have now.  The first cell phone I had, the Nokia 5110, was a small brick with very basic functions.  The screen wasn't color, but the faceplate was interchangeable.  Compare this with my new iPhone 3GS, or even the HTC Fuze I had previously, and you'll see that there is a huge difference.

Space Debris

My company had a meeting a few months ago about the amount of satellites in space and what this means for information security.  It was the picture they showed that caught my attention more than anything they actually had to say.   Then today, I came across an interesting article and it brought up all those thoughts again.

The picture here is merely an artist's rendition of the objects in space around our planet, but it is a striking one.  Whenever we see the Earth on television shows or movies it's always a clear sky without anything obstructing the view.  This article and picture make me wonder how true that is.  Obviously, this picture is a little dramatic in its depiction of  space junk, but how far off is it really?  Seeing the damage that has been done to the actual planet over the years I am not surprised at the state of the space around us.

Life, the universe, and everything

 I came across an interesting article on Google Reader today, Voyager and the Will to Explore.  It's talking about how amazing it is that there are still working components on the Voyager 1 and Voyager 2.  It goes on to talk about the estimated decay of the current components and how 50 years after its launch into space it will still function.  They were originally intended for a 3-10 year mission, to Jupiter and Saturn, but are currently in what is called an extended mission, for over 20 years.  They've both been in space for over 33 years and traveled about 8.452 billion miles, a little over What amazes me is the amount of time involved in a project like this.  Not just the time involved in designing and testing the materials and components before the actual launch into space, but the scope of the entire project.  Certainly there were short-term goals for the mission, but they had to think about possible benefits of the extended mission.  According to the article, there are only two members of the original team still alive.  Can you imagine beginning work on a project that you may never see to completion?  Not because of funding or lack of interest in the project.  Just something that will simply outlive  you.

The only other type of job I can think of, offhand, where one will not see the finished product of one's work is landscaping.  I'm not talking about simple bushes and trees around someone's home.  In Devil in the White City by Erik Larson, he talks about Frederick Law Olmstead.  Olmstead designed several public park areas around the country, most notably Central Park in New York City, and his biggest complaint in Devil in the White City was that people weren't patient enough to see his designs to fruition.  Larson details how Olmstead would create a plan for a space and then return a year later to find the owners had modified it on their own and completely ruined the design that would take 10-20 years to develop.  Larson even states that the plan used for Central Park was one Olmstead would never have seen completed as it was designed for 50-100 years of development.  Of course, with Landscape Architecture on that scale one has to think not only 20-50 years, but hundreds of years, in the future and even then it's always going to grow and change.

Both of these jobs require a tremendous amount of forethought and knowledge of the materials at hand.  I can't even conceive of that amount of time, let alone plan an entire project to extend that long.  It gives me a different perspective on life.