About my Books and Publishing company, Senesis Word
104 Leeward Court - St. Augustine, FL 32084 - 904-687-1865
Nationwide cell phone: 574-265-3386 - email: senesisword@yahoo.com
Publishing Services for Writers who choose to Self Publish
A note from Howard Johnson
In this blog, I will write about my books, describe them and provide excerpts. I will also talk a bit about my writing and the publishing company I started to help other fledgling writers. There are a number of sections, The first one is a personal description of what has become my calling. This is followed by a description of my publishing company and then descriptions of my books including excerpts so you can get the flavor of my various writings. I will try to place bookmarks so you can go directly to what you want to view.
Here’s a list of the sections and hopefully, links to each section:
Why I write - my last Hurrah!
My own, new publishing company, Senesis Word.
My books, listed in chronological order by date of publication:
Blue Shift, is a novel of adventure, intrigue and romance
Energy, Convenient Solutions, subtitled, How Americans Can Solve the Energy Crisis in Ten Years, is a non fiction book about energy. It is an overview of energy use and systems past, present and future. It was written in everyday language primarily to inform the average intelligent people who may have limited technical knowledge.
Memoirs from the Lakeside, is the latest version of my memoirs along with letters, essays, opinions, and quotes. It also includes about 500 short quotes from more than 270 mostly quite famous people.
Starring! Is a collection of my short stories, mostly SciFi. Several of my stories have won awards.
The Crystal Feather is a SciFi novel of adventure, intrigue and romance involving humans with two other related humanlike species in three different universes occupying different dimensions. It won first place in the Florida Writers Association Lighthouse novel competition in 2008.
Climate and Much Worse Dangers We Ignore is a non fiction book about the realities of Climate change including the physics, chemistry, and thermodynamics that actually drives it. It contains some detailed information about a relstively new theory about how variations in cosmic rays from nearby supernovas is the major driving force behind climate variation of the last half billion years.
Genesis 2012 is a book about science and religion. It is one of a number of small booklets I have published on a variety of sometimes controversial subjects.
The following books are at varying stages of completion. All are well past half way completed.
Sahm'Allah Comes to St Augustine is three distinctly different adventure stories, each with its own protagonist and set of characters, all dealing with the same enemies. The three come together only at the climax in the last three chapters in 2015. The story involves a plot to completely destroy the US by a well organized cadre of Islamic terrorists, many of whom have infiltrated our federal government and other institutions. Sahm'Allah is Arabic for The Arrow of Allah. The book is completed and is now under rewrite. It should be published by June, 2015
The Feudals subtitled Monkey Kings, Monkey People is a non fiction book of political commentary. It is not politically correct. Most of it was written around 2008 so it is now undergoing a major rewrite and update. Hopefully it will be finished and piblished this year.
Days of the High Morning Moon is a thriller, a novel of crime, murder and police work that takes place mostly in rural northern Indiana at the present time. It is about 70% finished.
Double Jeopardy is the second book of the Blue Shift trilogy. It picks up the story of the first book near its end and, with a slightly different set of characters. It covers about twenty six years from then until when the Ghost Star is just a few years away from its rendesvous with the solar system. It is about 80% finished.
The following books are ones I have published for other writers.
What is Life is a book by biology teacher Peggy Ciula that Senesis Word has published. It is an introduction to biology designed for grade school students to prepare them for high school biology. It is being used by a school system in Indiana.
Speak, Memory is a collection of memoirs written by twenty five members of the St Augustine River House Writers. There are 57 memoirs in the book. This group meets every Wednesday morning for about two hours to share and critique mostly memoirs, but also some fiction. We have been meeting regularly for almost five years. Our leader and guide is an accomplished journalist.
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I will try to explain what has become my passion and my last HURRAH so to speak. It has taken me more than ten years to reach where I am with this passion and it is my hope that I will continue to grow from my experiences. I also hope you will take the time to read the pages that follow this short note.
Why I write - my last Hurrah!
I am a story teller, both fiction and memoirs: fabricated and remembered. My writing dreams are bigger than I could possibly be. That alone should help keep me young at heart and always thirsting for another day, even at my age. Some time back I told everyone on my email list that I discovered I was a writer, but I didn't say why. Each story, thought, idea, or memory that I put into words brings forth from the depths of my mind and imagination, more stories, more thoughts, more ideas, and more memories. I am deliciously excited by writing these things. It has become my great passion, somewhat like this little phrase I wrote several years ago. Those in their youth who can, dream. Those in their prime who can, do. Those in their old age who can, write. For many years I was an avid reader, devouring all kinds of literature. Once I started writing, my reading time gave way to mostly writing time. Writing is so much more rewarding. Certainly I would like my words to be read, but my main pleasure lies in the writing. I would write even if I knew no one would ever read my words.
Why you should write: Each of us has stories to tell, stories that should be told that others would love to read, especially family members. We all know how to write. We write letters, emails, we tell people jokes and little stories about our experiences. Not all of us can be writers. That’s just a simple fact. However, many of you could write about things you would like to pass on to your children and grandchildren, things about you that you would like for them to know. My grandfather, George Dickinson told me many stories of his life growing up and as a young man. My father and mother did the same. I remember but a tiny portion of those stories. I would love to be able to read all of them, but they didn’t write them down. Some of theses stories are imbedded in my memoirs. I do not want to deny my grandchildren access to the stories of happenings in my life so I have written and collected many memoirs. These are the little stories I would tell people about things that happened, significant things, things my progeny might like to know about before they were born or while they were very young. Not all of these are pleasant or happy stories for there are dark times in all of our lives. Still, time helps lessen the memories of trauma, physical and emotional. I therefore urge you to write. Write the stories of your life. Tell your as yet unborn descendants about your life so they will know you.
I remember just a few stories my parents told about my dad’s parents and about my sisters before I was born. To me my paternal grandparents are virtually unknown other than those few stories and a few photos. How wonderful it would have been if they had written about their childhoods and lives. I would then at least known something of my ancestry. As it is they are merely names ad faces frozen at an advanced age. How did they meet? What about their parents? A hundred years from now, who will know anything about those ancestors just two generations back? If you write about your life, they will be able to learn at least some part of who you were, what you did, and how you lived your life. Think about it.
Should you make the decision to write, I would be pleased to offer help and instruction, mainly so you won’t have to make the mistakes I have already made. Writing memoirs can be an exciting and rewarding experience and provide your family with valuable and permanent information. Consider this quote:
"There are many who find a good alibi far more attractive than an achievement. For an achievement does not settle anything permanently. We still have to prove our worth anew each day: we have to prove that we are as good today as we were yesterday. But when we have a valid alibi for not achieving anything we are fixed, so to speak, for life. Moreover, when we have an alibi for not writing a book, painting a picture, and so on, we have an alibi for not writing the greatest book and not painting the greatest picture. Small wonder that the effort expended and the punishment endured in obtaining a good alibi often exceed the effort and grief requisite for the attainment of a most marked achievement."
—Eric Hoffer
So think about writing. If there is a story or memory in you, give it the wings of the written word. Who knows how many others you may touch.—Howard Johnson, 2011
My own, new publishing company, Senesis Word.
Struggling with several kinds of publishing companies, agents and others for ten years taught me a great deal about this rapidly changing business. Actually, I have just scratched the surface. After two very expensive lessons, I dug in and learned a lot about what makes for a successful publishing of a book. Marketing a book is an entirely different subject. If you are not an established author or a celebrity or politician of some note, making a living writing is difficult, and for the inexperienced, virtually impossible. Having been engaged in this struggle, I decided to offer my services to others starting on the path I have already trod. As a result I started my own publishing company, Senesis Word, to provide development assistance to the many unpublished and unheralded writers struggling to have their words published, if only for friends and family.
My website, www.senesisword.com, can provide much information about the services offered. The costs for these services are surprisingly low and depend on just how much the writer asks me to do. An estimate of the costs associated with any project will be provided free of charge.
As an active member of the Florida Writers Association and several other groups of writers, I know many really good writers who have never made a penny from their work. I also know a very few who have at least made some money. Still, the all say, “Don’t give up your day job until . . . .” There are, of course, those lucky, and usually hard working, writers who have cracked the best sellers lists after being noticed for any number of unfathomable reasons. Knowing someone already successful “in the business” can give you a leg up. Even then, there are a number of very necessary steps one must take to turn one’s idea onto a finished book, and that’s before a single copy is sold. Should you have any interest, I can and would love to provide you with invaluable information, books and reports on writing for both newbies and experienced writers.
I have become a prolific writer and work hard to make my writing clear, interesting and compelling. The books I have finished and those in progress are described in this piece. I have numerous other writing projects in stages from half finished to just started, and many more in the idea stage. Most, but not all of my fiction is hard science fiction. Hard science fiction is fiction in which the science behind the story is relatively accurate, possible—usually extrapolated from our current science—science pushed into the future—sometimes, far into the future. It is quite different from fantasy and there is no magic or suspension of the basic laws of physics, math, or chemistry. Sometimes fact catches up with fiction as new and real technologies replace previously fictional ones. From Jules Verne to Arthur C. Clark, SciFi imaginings have become later realities.
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The story takes us from the big island of Hawaii to a Mohawk Indian reservation in upstate New York and back. The characters are mostly from the two very different groups of native Americans found there, Hawaiians and Mohawks. Using the new Gemini telescope on the island of Hawaii, astronomer Angus Thomas, a Mohawk Indian and popular pro football player, discovers a wayward star that threatens to destroy all life when it races past the Earth in about thirty years. Discovery of this inescapable menace unleashes snowballinig events that batter the former all-pro running back, his beautiful Hawaiian assistant, Lani Namahoe, their families and friends. This determined group of people battle ignorance, internal enemies and government agents as they deal with the discovery of this irresistible, unavoidable menace that man is absolutely powerless to change or escape. Then they face the awesome responsibility of publicly announcing the probable end of life on Earth while struggling against forces that want to prevent them from doing so. Love, adventure, and intrigue heighten the anticipation of the growing threat of annihilation.
The book is still available from most popular book sources and from my website. An ebook form for the Kindle is available, with other formats coming in the near future. Also coming in the future will be the second and third books in the Blue Shift trilogy. Blue Shift II deals with the significant people and events during the twenty eight years between the conclusion of first Blue Shift and the near approach of the ghost star. Blue Shift III deals with the last two years as the star approaches and what happens as it passes through the solar system, the final conclusion of the trilogy. I hope to finish and publish Blue Shift II in 2012, and Blue Shift III in 2013.
Excerpt -
Chapter 1 — SOME EXTREMELY STRANGE DATA —
A legendary pro football running back, idolized Mohawk athlete and acclaimed role model for youths of all cultures, turned his many talents away from the gridiron to pursue his earlier dream of being an astronomer.
Angus Thomas and Pat Yamaguchi sat down in front of the desk of Dr. Ann Rivers, senior member of their working group of nine astronomers and physicists at the University of Arizona. This meeting was regarding a new procedure Dr. Thomas had developed.
Dr. Rivers greeted them warmly. “Welcome gentlemen. Let’s get right down to business.” The two nodded their heads in agreement. “Angus, we’ve put together a set of trials for your new procedure and I’ve asked Pat to help you with testing, improving and standardizing it.” She handed Angus a large envelope. “Here’s a list of nearby stars for test subjects and a tentative schedule of time on the telescope at Kitt Peak. You’ll have to confirm the schedule. Do you have any questions?”
Angus looked at Pat and back at Dr. Rivers. “Not from me until I look through the stuff in that envelope. I’m sure we’ll have questions then.”
Pat, the newest member of the group and close friend of Angus from grad school, nodded in agreement. “I have none at the moment.”
Dr. Rivers stood up in an obvious signal of dismissal. “Then let’s see how well your procedure works.”
~~~~~
Angus Thomas, who’s name in Kenienkeha, the Mohawk language, is Anias Otonwa, was thirty-one when he received his doctorate in astrophysics from the University of Arizona. The famous Mohawk had come a long way from his days as a star high school soccer player on the St. Regis Reservation in New York. Recruited by Penn State University as a place kicker, he starred in that role as a sophomore. During a mid-season game, his team behind by four points and bogged down on the opponent’s thirty-five, the burly place kicker trotted onto the field to try for three points. When the high snap bounced off the holder’s outstretched hands, Angus snatched it from in front of an onrushing lineman, tucked it instinctively in the crook of his arm and headed down the field. Running around, through and over would be tacklers and aided by blocks from his startled teammates, he scored the winning touchdown. In that famous moment a great running back emerged. This powerful and talented ex-place-kicker was soon ripping through opponents and setting records.
By the time he graduated, Angus had added his name to the college record books as a scholastic All-American and was a top pick in the NFL draft. He graduated with honors from the science school in physics with a minor in astronomy, his first love. He toyed with the idea of staying in school and getting a master’s degree but the lure of the multi-million dollar pro contract soon changed his mind. By his second season he hit his stride as a premier running back and his fame grew rapidly.
November 1995, near the end of his seventh season in the pros, he sustained a career ending knee injury. After several surgeries had rebuilt his knee, Angus could walk quite normally, but there was no chance of his return to the gridiron. While everyone expected the popular athlete to be a coach or sports commentator, Angus had other ideas. With his considerable income wisely invested, he could go anywhere and do almost anything he wanted. When he decided to pursue his earlier dream of becoming an astronomer, he enrolled at the University of Arizona in Tucson. It amazed everyone except his immediate family. He chose Arizona because of the excellent program and their nearby observatories. After earning his doctorate, he stayed in Tucson as a faculty member and researcher concentrating on searching for planets around nearby stars.
At first Angus found his colleagues had great difficulty taking a football legend as a serious researcher. When he developed a significant, new and far more accurate method of comparative spectral analysis of light from the stars, the attitude of most of his colleagues changed drastically. They realized he was serious about his new career and was a valuable member of his group at the university.
~~~~~
Early in June of 2000, more than six weeks after the meeting with Dr. Rivers that initiated the current project, Angus stalked in like a man on a mission and dropped a printout of the spectrum recorded for Barnard’s Star on Pat’s desk. He leaned over with a look of puzzlement on his face, pointed to the print and remarked, “Take a look at this. These two faint spectral emission lines don’t belong there at all, but they certainly look real. That’s gotta be an error in the equipment.. If not an error, then it’s something weird. We would run into a problem on the last test reading of the whole series.”“Lemme see.” Pat examined the print carefully, trying to match it visually with the standard he pulled from his desk. “They look real enough, like a faint image of strong lines superimposed on - you sure this isn’t a double reading? Another star on top of Barnard’s?”
“They show up on both the plot and this print. I don’t see how a double reading could give us those lines, they align perfectly. They don’t belong.”
“Let’s look over some earlier images and see what we can find,” Pat said as he swivelled his chair to retrieve the earlier images from the computer behind him.
Angus came around to Pat’s side and leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen as Pat displayed earlier images of spectra from Barnard’s star. They could find none with the errant lines. Angus stood up, a blank, questioning look painted his face. “Somehow I must have messed up, made a mistake when I took that reading. I’ll have to take another shot as soon as practical.”
“Since we finished our scheduled use of the telescope, it’ll take a while to get back in,” Pat commented, frowning up at Angus. He was not hopeful. “The schedule at Kitt Peak has been tough since they shut down the old Mt Hopkins MMT for an update. It may take a month to get a date for another spectral analysis.”
“Got no choice. I’ll go see about a time right now.” Angus hurried back to his desk to arrange to do another spectrum. A few minutes later he phoned Pat. “We’re in luck. I got a spot three weeks from tonight. Let’s pray for a clear night.”
~~~~~
“Look at these danged lines! They’re even more distinct than before,” Angus exclaimed to Pat as he walked in holding the new spectrum print from his redo. He plopped the print down in front of Pat and quickly sat in the chair at the side of the desk. “What the devil could be generating them? I still can’t find a match anywhere.”Pat picked up the print, looked at it closely, scowling, then placed it back on the desk. He paused thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “You can’t tie them into any known lines? Can’t recognize their pattern? Of course, that’s nearly impossible with only two lines. That’s weird.”
Angus leaned forward, pursing his lips and shaking his head in frustration. “One thing I know for certain. They sure don’t belong where they are.”
Pat looked perplexed. He picked up his coffee mug and fondled it for a moment, seeming to examine it closely while thinking. “If you’re as baffled as I am, why not take the whole thing to Ann. She’s done lots of work on matching spectra. Or even show it to the guys at our next group meeting. More, older, and hopefully, wiser heads should at least be able to point you in a direction. I’m completely out of ideas.”
~~~~~
At Dr. Rivers’ suggestion, Angus brought this new information before their group of nine scientists at the university. He and Pat explained the circumstances thoroughly during an open, casual discussion.
After the group had examined the spectra, group leader, Dr. Rivers, was as puzzled as Angus and Pat had been. “You’re correct! Those two lines are definitely out of place where they are. Could it be a ghost image? You know, a photographic anomaly, lines reflected from inside the instrument?”
Dave Hopkins, the jokester in the group and quite jealous of Angus, leaned back in his chair and grinned with sarcastic derision. “Yeh! You must have a ghost in that marvelous program of yours, a ghost instead of a virus. It’s making new lines for you to confound the rest of us. Can’t the famous football kid come up with an answer?”
Nonplused, Angus looked at Dave. “You’ll notice, the plots also indicate those same features. Both plots and spectra were made without benefit of my program so it can’t be the cause.”
Bernie Franks scowled at Dave. “That’ll teach you to wise off. Why don’t you get off it, Dave? This could be something new and different.” Then, with a laugh and a wink at Angus, he suggested, “Since it’s Barnard’s spectrum, let’s call it Barnard’s Ghost. I can see it now, with headlines, ‘Football star discovers ghost in the heavens.’”
“How about a headline at the checkout counter, ‘Ghost discovered in sky by running back.’ They could include one of your football pictures,” Jack Kershaw joked.
The kidding continued for several minutes, mostly good-natured, but at Angus’ expense. Finally, Dr. Rivers stood up and sought to get things back on track. “All right, you’ve had your fun. How about some serious suggestions. Are any of you capable of serious thought or are you all vying for clown of the month? Now, does anyone have any ideas?”
“Am I the only one?” Bernie asked as he looked around at the group and saw all blank faces. He turned to Angus, quite serious by the look on his face. “As you explained, it’s obvious the lines do not belong where they are. There are no known emission lines at precisely those positions. They are quite faint, so I’m suggesting they are strong lines, shifted from another part of the spectrum. Could you have focused on another object near Barnard’s? Perhaps a faint galaxy or supernova with strong emission lines? You could be dealing with a red shift. Unfortunately, with but two lines, it will be close to impossible to match.”
“If there was anything close by, it was either masked by the light of Barnard’s Star or so faint it couldn’t be resolved. Pat and I both checked at several resolutions. A distant, bright object, behind Barnard’s could be hidden, yet still contribute light to the spectrum. We found no known object Barnard’s is occluding at this time. Background light from Tucson or elsewhere nearby has been ruled out as a possible source. That leaves us nowhere. We thought you might be able to help.”
Dr. Rivers looked around the group, questioning with her eyes. “It looks as if no one has a thought other than Bernie. I would check other astronomers to see if they have any recent spectra you could use for confirmation. Keep me informed of any progress. Now, let’s get on with the next item on the agenda.”
Angus was thoroughly dejected as he and Pat left after the meeting. “So much for the idea of help from the experts. They’re as stumped as we are. This stupid thing is driving me nuts. I guess the next step is to do what Dr. Rivers suggested.”
“I guess so. We can start first thing in the morning. It’s late and Beanie’s waiting for me, so I’m buggin’ outta here right now. See you in the A. M.”
“I’m going to get on the net for a while and see what I can find. Tell Beanie I said, hi.”
After several hours of searching, Angus found no available recent spectra of Barnard’s Star. The next day they searched for similar data from other research groups. None had a duplication of the strange lines, but none of the data was recent. Angus thought this might be something new and unknown. When the third spectral analysis showed the same faint, unidentifiable lines, Angus looked for ways to get confirmation from other sources.
~~~~~
With first light of the new 6.5 meter MMT telescope on Mt Hopkins a year away, Angus needed another giant telescope to better search for the source of the lines. When Pat brought this up at a group session, he made a proposal that changed Angus’ life completely.
“With the Mt Hopkins MMT in process of being replaced, our viewing capacity here in Arizona is considerably diminished. Why don’t we help Angus get time on the new, 8 meter Gemini in Hawaii. It’s past first light and will soon be turned over to astronomers. Its near infra-red capability is outstanding and it suits Angus’ research quite well. I think it’s a great opportunity. Maybe there he can discover the cause for those crazy lines.”
After Pat’s suggestion and with his group behind him, Angus applied for and was granted research time on the giant new Gemini North telescope on Mauna Kea on the big island of Hawaii.
When the time came to leave, Pat was helping pack the instruments for the trip and harassing him about the change. “Here you go, deserting me and heading for a tropical paradise. I can see you now with all those Hawaiian beauties dressed in - what do they call those sexy, clinging Hawaiian dresses? Moo-moos or something like that. You’ll be dancing on moonlit beaches, sipping Mai-Tais, wearing Aloha shirts and -”
Angus momentarily stopped stuffing padding around the last instrument. “I suppose you expect me to feel sorry for you.”
“No, but you could take me along - at least for a while.”
Angus began stuffing again. “And how do you think your little Chiricahua sweety would like that?” He threw a handful of the packing material at Pat. “She’d do an Apache war dance on your body if you even mentioned it. I’m on her side, remember? We injuns have to stick together.”
“Alas! True love has its drawbacks.” Pat said, speaking dramatically with a flamboyant wave of his hand and a gaze skyward in parody. After standing frozen in the last pose for a moment, he returned to help Angus lift the packing crate on end.
Angus leaned on the now upright but still open crate and brought Pat back to reality. “Come on, pal. Beanie’s about the best thing that ever happened to you and you know it. You’d be lost without her.”
“How right you are. Seriously, I’m excited for you,” Pat said as he finished nailing the lid on the crate. “A new opportunity, a new challenge and maybe the chance to make a great discovery. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is and quite exciting,” Angus replied as he rested against the crate, legs crossed casually and staring thoughtfully into space. “I’ve been dreaming about discovering something really new. It would be a different excitement than when I played football, but just as heady. Maybe I can discover something important.”
Pat grabbed the dolly and brought it up to the case. “I hate to bring you down to earth, pal, but we’ve got to get this crate on the truck and you off to the airport.”
The two friends talked about the separate paths their lives were taking as they rolled the heavy crate to the waiting truck.
~~~~~
Man has been wondering about and reaching for the stars for thousands of years. For this continuing quest we demand bigger telescopes, faster computers and more commitment.
Mililani Namahoe nimbly dodged fresh rain puddles as she walked purposefully from the parking lot into the Gemini Operations Center in Hilo’s University Park. Lani, as everyone called her, a recent astronomy graduate of the University of Hawaii, worked full time for the Gemini Project. As she walked in, Jenny, the receptionist motioned for her to stop.
Jenny brightened the room with her friendly smile as Lani approached her desk. “Have I got news for you. I have your first permanent assignment. No more shuffling all over the place. This should be a good one.”
As Jenny thumbed through a stack of brown envelopes under the counter, Lani beamed and leaned over to watch. “OK! Who’s the lucky one?”
“It’s the new guy. The one coming from Arizona next month. You heard about him, didn’t you?
Not knowing whether to feel pleased or not, Lani frowned at the news. “No, I didn’t. I was hoping to work with someone I knew. I’ll wait and find out what kind of man he is.”
Jenny continued fumbling with the stack of envelopes. “He’s that famous football player, Angus Thomas.”
Lani looked puzzled. “Never heard of him, but then I’m no fan of football.” She was unimpressed.
Jenny frowned, her face showing disapproval of Lani’s lack of interest in the famous jock. She found the right envelope and handed it to Lani. “It’s the information about your new assignment. Take it to Director Carroll’s office. He’s expecting you and will give you the whole run down on Dr. Thomas and his project.”
She took the envelope, started to open it, paused and then furrowed her brow and looked knowingly at Jenny. “He’s probably some Neanderthal in a white coat with an ego as big as Mauna Kea.”
Jenny leaned forward and said earnestly and in a whisper, “Not so! I hear good things about him. He was a star player. Held all kinds of records in college and the pros. More important, he had a reputation for being a good guy both on and off the field. I didn’t realize he was an astronomer until I heard he was coming here.” Jenny sat back and crossed her arms on her chest. “That’s quite a switch, football to astronomy. I understand from at least one of our people familiar with his work that he is quite well respected professionally.”
Lani took an aloof, almost haughty stance to demonstrate indifference to the fame of her soon to be boss. “At least he has some redeeming traits. To me that’s far more important than his celebrity. Still, I’ll wait and make my own judgements about Dr. Thomas.” Lani looked at Jenny as she emphasized the last phrase, then turned and headed for John Carroll’s office.
~~~~~
When her session with Dr. Carroll was finished, Lani headed for her workstation to tackle her new assignment. Her first task was to go through the list of Angus’ requests she received in the envelope. The list included a number of items: several maps of the area - a list of references to be made available - a specific computer configuration for his network workstation - arrangements for his equipment to be transported to the observatory when it arrived in Hilo - a preferred layout for his office - and a number of minor items. She was also asked to find him a nearby, comfortable apartment with a guest room suitable to be used as a home office. That terse request left much room for question, but she would try to find what she imagined would be suitable.
One request intrigued her. It was for detailed information about the local people, their history, their customs and a dictionary or thesaurus with any native words or language still in general usage in the area. This was certainly an unusual request for a haole to make. She used her computer to access the university library for that information. It was the first thing she did before organizing his other requests and then filling them.
~~~~ Monday, September 11 ~~~~
When Lani was introduced to Angus in his new office, she was quite surprised at this burly, amber skinned man with black hair and dark eyes much like her own. His smile radiated his friendly nature. His warm handshake and cheery greeting began disarming her apprehension about working with her new boss.
“I want to thank you for the information you sent,” Angus remarked. “It gave me a good understanding of my new home.”
He stood for a moment, drinking in the vision of this rather tall, beautiful young Hawaiian who would be his assistant. He wondered, This will certainly be different than working with Pat. She could be a model, but an astronomer? I hope she works out as great as she looks. Tearing his eyes away, he walked about to familiarize himself with the layout and furnishings. Admiring the plants Lani had so carefully placed, he asked the name of each as he looked at them.
“I’m impressed with how you set up my office. If you’re that good at the technical stuff, we’ll get along fine,” he commented as he fingered through the small pile of documents on his desk.
Despite the friendly introduction, Lani remained somewhat aloof. She knew first impressions are not always accurate and that working closely with a person will eventually bring out the true nature of both. Cautious with men, she would wait a while before passing judgement on her new boss.
~~~~~
By late afternoon it became obvious to Angus that his new assistant had brains and was an excellent worker in addition to being drop-dead gorgeous. He looked admiringly at his now neat, orderly office. “We’ve had a productive day. All that new material I brought in has been organized and put where it belongs. I never thought we’d have it done before that four o’clock meeting. I have to commend you. You’re efficient and easy to work with.”
Lani sent him a controlled, mildly appreciative look. “Thank you. It did go rather well.”
“I’m sometimes a bit careless, but with what you did before I came and what we did today, things are shipshape.”
“Hopefully, we can keep it that way.” Lani’s words and manner sent a veiled message that she fully intended for him to do his part.
Angus noted, but ignored the hidden challenge and sat down for a momentary rest. “We have about fifteen minutes before our meeting. I’d like to learn a bit more about you. I know you graduated from the University of Hawaii and are hoping to achieve an advanced degree, but that’s about all. I’m certainly not prying, just interested.”
“Where would you like me to start? What would you like to know?” Lani was instantly on guard as she wondered, Oh boy, is this a come on?
“I’m particularly interested in your culture. It’s so different from my own Mohawk culture, yet I read of some similarities in the things you sent me. It’s obvious you are native Hawaiian, but are you from nearby or one of the other islands?”
Still cautious, but so far less apprehensive after working with him all day, she decided to relax her guard. Her look softened noticeably as she got up, turned her chair to face Angus and settled back into it. “I’m a local native you might say, with lots of family nearby. I grew up a bit south of Hilo in Kalapana. Do you know about Kalapana?”
“I remember reading about it in the information you sent me. It’s the city destroyed by a huge lava flow from the active volcano isn’t it? You would have been quite young then. Were you involved?”
“If you call watching your family home being devoured by the cruel, black lava involved, I certainly was,” Lani replied, as a pained expression flowed over her face.
Angus winced as he responded, “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I didn’t know you lost your home. That must have been devastating. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Reacting to the obvious compassion in his voice Lani relaxed a bit more. “No, I don’t mind. It’s been eleven years and my whole family has rebuilt their lives since then. Kalapana was the home of my family for many generations. I was eleven when I watched our home being burned and swallowed by the lava that buried most of the entire town. I will never forget that horrendous experience. The tears streaming down my father’s face as he watched his home slowly being destroyed made an indelible impression I still see in my mind. I had never seen my father in tears before. He stood there quietly watching as the house crumbled into ashes that were gradually swallowed by the slowly moving lava. He was born in that old house.”
Angus shuddered, watching her understandably pained expressions. “What a horrible experience. I can hardly imagine.”
“It happened over such a large area. Replacement of the lush green forest landscape by the stark black lava flow was the worst kind of complete devastation. It left no hope for rebuilding. Kalapana was utterly destroyed, permanently entombed by miles of black stone desert and will remain so for at least several thousand years. The profusion of tropical plants, the birds, the flowers and even the wonderful fragrances all vanished. There were palms, banyans and plumeria everywhere. Orchids and ginger grew wild and the ginger smelled so lovely when in bloom as it is here in Hilo right now. It was a lot like Hilo, but a bit wilder and less populated.
“The main highway joining the southeast section of the island with Hilo and the northern coast was buried, isolating this part of the island. It changed what had been a rather short drive through lush country into a tortuous journey of many miles around the volcano. In between two fresh green areas lay total destruction and miles of cruel black wasteland with molten rock flowing just a few feet below the hardened surface. The lava still flows to the ocean where it steadily adds to the island as it boils into the surf. The eastern part of the Big Island was cut in half changing forever the lives of thousands.
“Like many others, my father lost his business as well as his home. Our family went from comfortable affluence to a hand-to-mouth existence. I remember staying with relatives near Hilo for several months before the lava reached our house. Knowing the oncoming lava would destroy anything in its path, my parents moved into storage everything they could take. My dad removed many of the fixtures he would later use in our new house. He moved all his construction equipment and machinery from Kalapana to a rented location several miles north of the cooled lava flow on route 130. He was even able to break down his storage buildings and haul them away as well. Taking a loan on his equipment, he acquired a suitable piece of land and was back in business within less than a year.
“After more than six months that seemed like forever, we moved into a small new house my dad built on a corner of the new construction company location. It was rather stark compared to the lush greenery around our old home. I remember watching my dad reassemble his storage buildings and build an equipment shed. He set up his office in an old portable office building on our new land. We used much of the furniture from our old house, mainly some older pieces that had been in the family for many years. My folks did what they could to provide us a home that would have at least some of the flavor of our old house. We shed some tears as we moved in among the reminders of the home we lost.”
Angus could feel the pain of loss in Lani’s voice. “How is your family doing now?”
She smiled thinking about her family. “They’re doing fine. Since my sister, brother and I grew up and moved away, the little house suits my parents well. My dad’s business is flourishing and both parents enjoy good health. I worked part time here at Gemini while in college and became full time after I graduated. You’re my first permanent assignment.”
Angus thought sadly of their loss, showing it in his voice and on his face. “What an intriguing story. You must have a close, strong family. You speak of them with such - care. I think that’s the right word. You seem to have survived and adapted quite well.”
“Life moves on. You get back to the business of living. I don’t suppose the pain will ever go completely away though.”
“I find the twists and turns of people’s lives fascinating. I’m looking forward to our working together.”
Lani leaned back, crossed her legs and slipped her hand up under her hair. “What about you? You now know my life history. I’ve been told you are rather well known as a sports figure.”
“That was in another life,” he said, clasping his hands and leaning his elbows on the desk.
“I’m not a football fan and your name was unknown to me until Jenny told me about my new assignment. Sorry about that.”
“No need to be sorry. It’s refreshing to be seen as just another astronomer. I rather like that.” He glanced at the clock. “I’ll have to fill you in later. Right now, we need to leave for that meeting.”
As they walked to the meeting, Lani thought, No come on this time. Maybe he’ll be okay. That would certainly be refreshing.
~~~~ November ~~~~
Five months after Angus’ last spectral analysis of Barnard’s Star, his first observations were made. He was anxious to see what this giant, state-of-the-art telescope would show him. He was startled at the clarity of the strange spectral lines in the first analysis. They were more evident and there were more of them. There was no doubt this was something quite unusual.
While examining several recent images, Angus asked Lani to confirm his observation of another unusual item. Pointing to one of the stars in one image and then to the same one in another he asked, “See that object? Tell me what you think.”
Leaning over the desk, Lani examined the photos carefully. “That star seems to be slightly elongated in this photo, but perfectly round in the other. All the other stars in the first one look perfectly round. It couldn’t be a photo distortion or all stars would have the same shape.”
“Very good! That image is fuzzy, but it reminds me of a similar photo that led to a major discovery some years back. Do you know the discovery I mean?”
Lani sat on the chair at the right end of Angus’ desk, pleased she knew the answer. “You’re referring to the photo of the planet Pluto that lead to the discovery of Pluto’s moon, Charon, right? Could that be a planet orbiting the star? It would have to be a large one, wouldn’t it?”
Angus leaned back and changed into lecture mode. “Right discovery. Wrong conclusion. In the nineteen-sixties, one group claimed to have found two planets, bigger than Jupiter, orbiting Barnard’s Star. They used an apparent wobble in its motion as the evidence for their conclusion. Later observations with the Hubble Space Telescope could find no indication of any large planet near the star, although they did not rule out smaller ones.”
Lani sat thoughtfully for a moment. “The only other conclusion is that it is another object, probably a star, either much smaller or much farther away than Barnard’s. If it were a near-earth body, a comet or asteroid, it would have moved during the exposure and left a streak on the image.”
Angus leaned forward again. “The lady gets an A. Check the archives for some other images of that same area, several months apart and back as far as you can. Then we’ll try to find out more about that ‘lump’ on the star.
~~~~~
The “Aha” experience of finding something truly new is one of the greatest joys of being a scientist.
It took Lani a few weeks to obtain the prints from the photo archives. When she had several of them ready, she spread them out on the table in Angus’ office to view and compare. They sat down, side-by-side at the small table.
“Look at this!” Angus exclaimed, pointing to the image on a photo from a year ago. “There, see that slight distortion? It looks like a faint smear. Something is definitely there.”
“I can barely see it,” Lani remarked. Bringing the two prints as close together as possible, she stared at them and then exclaimed. “Only in this photo it’s on the north side of the star and much fainter. We know what it can’t be, but what is it?”
“It has to be a faint star or even a galaxy. The change in position is solely because Barnard’s Star has moved. It can’t be visual evidence of a new object near Barnard’s Star. I wonder why no one has seen this object before?”
Angus shuffled through the older photos. “I don’t see any evidence of that object on the photos from before that one taken a year ago. We would never have noticed that faint smear if we hadn’t been looking for it. Now we have two mysteries, this object and the strange spectral lines I showed you before. Maybe it’s a supernova in a distant galaxy. That would explain its relatively sudden appearance.”
Lani turned and looked at Angus. “Wouldn’t the spectrum tell us that? Wouldn’t it have a red shift?”
“If it’s far enough away, it should. A supernova has a definite spectral pattern. Maybe that’s why we couldn’t identify it.”
Lani’s eyes widened in realization as she stared intently at Angus with excitement. “It seems like those two mysteries are really only one.”
“A good, probable conclusion. Okay, Miss Namahoe, what is the next logical step? Where do we go from here?”
“I’d suggest we run some more spectra. We can block out the star and try to get a spectrum on the object itself. That would make it much easier to analyze.”
“Excellent! I’m impressed. It will take some time, but we are in position to get those readings right now and for several more months. I’ll check the schedule and see when we can get to it.”
Angus again checked through several newly found records of earlier spectra taken of Barnard’s Star before the strange spectral lines first appeared. Not one showed any of the strange lines.
~~~~ Thursday, December 21 ~~~~
In the relatively short few weeks since the last viewing, Barnard’s fuzzy image had elongated noticeably. Whatever it was, the object was brighter relative to the star. Using the technique Lani suggested to block most of the light from Barnard’s Star, Angus obtained several spectra of the distortion alone. He and Lani sat down to look at the spectrum on the computer display.
They gazed at the screen as Angus panned across the spectrum using a split screen. “Whatever that object is, it is definitely the source of those strange lines. I find no obvious match between the new object on the top and the supernova reference spectrum on the bottom. Of course, with this broad spectrum it would take forever to find a match visually unless we were close. I’ll run that computer comparison again with this latest data. Those line patterns must match somewhere.”
Lani sat back. “Surely your program will find us a match,” she commented as Angus set his program in motion.
They watched the display as the computer ground away and after fifteen minutes it displayed the terse words, “NO MATCH.”
Disappointed in the results, Angus’ face showed it. “I can’t believe it.”
Lani looked intently at Angus, trying to cheer him. “If it’s a distant supernova couldn’t it have a rather large red shift?”
Angus restarted the program, moving the search criteria far into the red. “Okay! Let’s see what comes from your idea.”
They were dumbfounded when again the computer proclaimed there was no match.
“This is crazy! Spectral lines have to match somewhere. What are we doing wrong?” Angus remarked, his face skewed in a quizzical expression.
Again and again, his program ran with negative results. “That’s impossible! What kind of weird object is that anyway? The lines must match some part of the spectrum. That’s the third time I’ve set up the computer and it grinds away and then reports no match.” Lani could see him becoming more and more frustrated.
Suddenly, her face brightened with realization. “Look outside the box. That’s what my father used to say whenever we were stumped by a problem. Most people box their minds into a limited view of a problem and must break outside the box to find the solution. I’m sure you experienced the old join all the dots with four straight lines problem at sometime in your life haven’t you?”
Angus chuckled to himself, remembering well that puzzle posed to him at some time in the distant past. “I know what your father meant. I was positively elated when I solved that puzzle by drawing the lines outside those imaginary limits. How do we apply that here? I’ll have to rethink how to go about solving this mystery. Why don’t you help me get out of the box. I’m so close to the problem it may be difficult for me to escape my tunnel vision. You could provide a less biased view.”
Lani was ecstatic being asked to help with a real research project. “I’d love to. Most of what I’ve been doing is what I call paper clip work: searching the files for needed records, getting photos ready for comparison studies and converting older paper documents into computer data. You know what I mean - necessary, but not truly creative research. Challenges are what turn my mind on.”
Angus was encouraged by her enthusiasm. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”
Lani thought and with that sudden insight that often leads to unexpected discovery, said out loud, “Blue! I wonder if we could find a match toward the blue end of the spectrum. We’ve been looking at the infra-red where Gemini works best. Maybe we could find a match farther up the spectrum toward the blue or even ultra-violet. We could have an object that’s got a blue shift.”
Using the same starlight blocking method as before, Angus obtained several more wide range spectra in the blue area of visible light. Again, he and Lani watched intently as the computer ground away at its task, testing match after match as it was moved farther and farther up the comparison spectrum. After what seemed like hours, it began divulging the results.
“Look at this!” He shouted to Lani. “We’ve found a match. If it’s correct, the light from that object has an incredible blue shift.”
After a quick, rough calculation, Angus sat back dumbfounded and nearlyspeechless. “Unless my calculations are off, that object is a wild star moving toward us at 90 percent of the speed of light.”
They looked at each other silently in disbelief for several seconds. Angus opened his mouth to speak, but his voice took a long time to work. “That’s impossible. Nothing that big can move that fast.”
The startled look on Lani’s face gave way to concern. “Maybe we made a mistake. Let’s do it over.”
Testing another set of data produced the same results. “Of all the unexpected surprises research at the fringes of knowledge provides, this has got to be one of the biggest,” Angus remarked, his face registering incredulity. “I know no one has ever reported such an object before. We’ll have to get someone to check and recheck both old and new data with confirming calculations. I know! I’ll call Pat right away.”
Within a few minutes Pat was on the phone. “How are things in Hula land? Met any Hawaiian beauties?”
Angus wouldn’t mention Lani at this time. “Hundreds! All over the place, but I’ve got something big to send you. Are you ready for this?”
“Yeah! So what cooks, pal.”
Angus’ voice was shaking with excitement. “I”ve found an object moving in our direction at nearlythe speed of light. I believe it’s a star.”
“Come on! You’re kidding of course.”
“Never been more serious in my life”
“Really? You’re not pulling my leg? That’s impossible!” Pat was caught between believing and being certain Angus was joking. His emotions were wavering quickly and wildly.
Angus was beginning again to be frustrated. Pat should know he wasn’t kidding. “No, I mean it. That sucker’s coming directly at us at more than 90 percent of the speed of light and I want to set up a secure method of communicating with you, so you can check out my findings.”
Pat got with the program. “You’re serious, aren’t you? Is it those crazy lines that got you to Hawaii?”
“Right on partner. That is them! We knew they had to be shifted from somewhere, but we’ve only been looking in the red. Never dreamed they could have a blue shift. Now I need confirmation. Can you do it?”
“How are we going to transfer data? Email?”
“Encrypted email would work. There are encryption programs available that even the feds can’t crack. We can use one of those. I’ll have my assistant find us the best method. She’s quite good at things like this.”
“She? You have a female assistant? I’ll bet she’s a doll.”
Angus watched Lani’s expression as he answered. “Nah! She’s an old hag. About three hundred pounds, warts, scraggly hair and missing teeth.”
Lani almost fell off her chair trying to keep from laughing out loud.
Pat was dubious. “I’ll bet!” After a pause he got back to business. “As far as the email is concerned, I know you have my personal address so let’s use that. Use you-know-who’s name as the initial password until we get the encryption in place. If what you say is true, you will want to keep this under wraps. Sometimes even the phones have ears so lets keep it light. Use email to send the details.”
“Right you are. I’ll be sending within a day or at most two. Tell you-know-who I said hello. I wanted to hear your reaction to the news so that’s why I called. We can do the rest by email.”
“Tell that fat old hag to keep you on the ball. Okay?”
As soon as Angus cradled the phone, Lani reacted. “What was he asking? That was quite a complimentary description. I take it your friend Pat kids a lot?”
“We worked together long enough to become good friends. Used to harass each other unmercifully. He’s a good friend I can count on.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, who’s You-know-who?”
Angus laughed. “That’s Beanie. Pat’s lady friend. She’s another native American, a Chiricahua from Arizona. I wouldn’t try to pronounce her Chiricahua name. Her language is as far from Mohawk as Hawaiian.”
“How did she get the name, ‘Beanie’?”
“I think it came from her childhood when she used to wear one of those little beanie caps. The kids started calling her ‘Beanie’ and it stuck.”
Lani put on her serious face. “You want this kept under wraps until you have confirmation?”
“You bet! I don’t want to let this out until I know we’re accurate. I know of the premature announcements of other findings that were later refuted by additional work. That did great damage to the credibility of those responsible. It could even be a career ending fiasco. We must make certain this is valid. I hope you can handle that.”
Lani would still not abandon caution. “As long as you play the game fairly, I’m with you. No one will hear a word of this from me without your knowledge and okay.”
Angus became emphatic. “If our preliminary work is not flawed, we may have a monster discovery. Let’s hope we handle it properly.”
“What about someone else releasing knowledge of the discovery before you? Couldn’t that happen and wouldn’t that be a disastrous blow?”
“That’s a chance every researcher takes with every discovery. By sharing with Pat, I secure the date of discovery. It’s sort of a, who found it first situation. We’ll most likely be okay. People have been looking intently at Barnard’s Star for many years. It’s doubtful there are many looking now, if any. I was shooting Barnard’s as the last test in a series of tests to prove and refine the comparison program I developed. That’s when those crazy lines appeared.”
“Is there anyone here you could use for confirmation?”
“I need someone elsewhere in the world with different instruments and seeing conditions. Pat may soon be able to use the new 6.5 meter MMT on Mt. Hopkins. I think that’s scheduled for first light in the near future.”
Lani leaned forward to emphasize her words. “I’m a bit nervous being the only one here at Gemini, other than you, that knows about this.”
“I’ll go talk to John Carroll to get his opinion. Maybe that will help ease your mind. One more thing. We now need to take a parallax reading on that star, if it’s near enough to measure.”
Lani stood up and walked over to the large wall calendar. “You know, don’t you, the first parallax readings could be taken in a few days. You have the time scheduled for a different purpose, but this would be the time to do it. Then comes Christmas and the real millennium end. Lots of people will be gone over the holidays.”
“I almost forgot about that. We barely have time to set up for a parallax image. Maybe I’ll wait until things quiet down before talking to John. That will be two or three weeks at most.”
Lani gathered the paper strewn around the table and Angus’ desk. “Makes sense to me. I can handle three weeks okay. Now, the day’s almost over and I’ve this mess and my own desk to pick up.”
Angus started picking up papers as he started on his desk. “I guess I’d better help. I still remember that first day. What you told me, no ordered me, to do about keeping the place neat. How’ve I been doing?”
Lani had forgotten her first tense days three months ago, before Angus earned her professional respect. Since then they developed a comfortable working relationship. She was a bit embarrassed by what she had said then, but he would never know it. “I never knew that even registered on you. It worked thought, didn’t it? I must say, you’ve been helpful keeping your office clean and orderly. Was I that obvious?”
Angus laughed. “Yes you were. Stiff, cautious and quite obvious.”
__________________________________________________
In the book I say, “We can replace all fossil fuels with renewable fuels and alternative energy sources within ten years and with relatively minor disruptions to present manufacturing and distribution systems. Energy, Convenient solutions describes most of the existing and proposed energy systems, all within current technology and capabilities. Some of these proposed systems are quite unusual and recently announced. It provides many unique and workable, long-term answers to growing concerns about energy, the economy, and dwindling supplies of petroleum. Adopting these new systems would improve our balance of trade, our economy, our job opportunities, and our technological presence while eliminating the CO2 problem, regardless of its importance. We no longer have the luxury of time. The growing economic/political menace is here, now, real, and dangerous. If we don’t act immediately, the consequences could be catastrophic.”
Publication of the book was followed by publication of numerous articles in trade publications in many fields related to energy. Numerous book reviews, most quite positive have been written and published since publication early in the fall of 2010. Most of the negative reviews focused on the comments made about politics, Islam, and the lack of a single definitive answer. Obviously these reviewers failed to recognize the power politics and politicians have over energy decisions, even though most are poorly informed on the subject. Anyone who doesn’t see the danger oil-rich nations can pose, and the financial drain this causes the western world are wearing blinders. As long as petroleum remains our primary energy source, these factors must be considered. The answer is not a single system, or technology, but a combination of many, some effective in one field, others in different fields and industries. The one-size-fits-all solution so adored by politicians and the media, is completely impractical. The obvious difficulties and expensive collapse of many companies developing radical new technologies is just one of the lessons we must learn.
Excerpt, Energy, Convenient Solutions - How America Can Solve the Energy Crisis in Ten Years:
CONTENTS
SECTION I - Preliminaries
Dedication ix
Preface xi
Introduction 1
The Many Forces That Will Shape Our Energy Systems 1
Worldwide Distribution of Electricity Sources (table). 5
Why Petroleum Will not be the Answer 6
SECTION II - Some General Information
What this Book Is Really About 13
America Needs a Mission for Energy Independence 17
Existing Systems 22
Some Predictions 25
A Scenario of the Future: a Warning, Hopefully not a Prediction. 31
Another Scenario of the Future: Ten Years Into That Future 35
A Day in the Life of a PHEV (Plugin Hybrid Electric Vehicle) 37
SECTION III - Energy Systems: Old, New, and Future
I. Fuel Energy Sources 41
A. Fossil-based Power Source Fuels 41
1. Coal 41
2. Petroleum Fuels 42
a. Gasoline 43
b. Diesel Fuel 45
c. Jet Engine Fuel 45
d. Fuel Oil, for Heating 45
e. Heavy Fuel Oils 46
3. Other Mined Fuels 46
a. Natural Gas 46
b. LP Gas (propane) 46
B. Nonfossil-based Renewable Power Source Fuels 46
1. Ethanol (grain alcohol) 47
Table Comparing Various Fuels with Gasoline. 48
2. Methanol (wood alcohol) 48
3. Butanol (butyl alcohol) a New Player 49
4. Another Fuel Possibility 2,5-dimethylfuran (DMF) 50
5. Biodiesel 50
6. Methane 50
7. Wood 50
8. Plant Waste 51
9. Agni-byproducts 51
10. Ancient Fuels—Peat and Animal Dung 51
C. Manufactured Fuels 51
1. Hydrogen 51
2. A New Method to Produce Hydrogen 52
3. A New Process Could Produce Liquid Fuels 52
D. Nuclear Fuels 54
1. Uranium 54
2. Deuterium, Tritium 54
3. Exotic radioactive materials 54
4. Helium Three 54
II. Other Natural Energy Sources
A. The Sun 55
1. Direct Sunlight 55
B. Water Power 55
1. River Dams 55
2. Tidal 56
3. Wave Action 56
C. Geothermal 56
1. Volcanic 56
2. Deep Heat Energy 56
D. Wind Energy 57
III. Electric Power Plants
A. Steam Turbine Power Plants 59
1. Coal-fired Power Plants 60
2. Natural Gas-fired Power Plants 60
3. Oil-fired Power Plants 61
4. Nuclear Power Plants 61
5. Geothermal Power Plants 62
B. Water or Hydroelectric Power 63
1. River Dams 64
2. Tidal 65
3. Wave Action 65
C. Wind Turbine Power 66
D. Gas Turbine Power Plants 66
E. Solar Power 67
1. Solar Photo Voltaic Power Cells 67
2. Radiant Heat Energy 67
3. Focused Radiant Heat Energy 68
IV. The Distribution of Energy 69
A. Electricity 69
1. The Grid, Transmission Network 69
2. Batteries 70
B. Liquid Fuels 70
1. Fuels Liquid at Normal Temperatures 71
2. LP Gas (Liquified Petroleum) 71
3. LNG (Liquid Natural Gas) 71
C. Hydrogen 72
V. Fuel-powered Systems and Devices 73
A. Combustion-based Systems. 73
1. Internal Combustion Engines 73
a. Reciprocating Spark Ignition Engines 73
(1) A Special Case, LNG, Liquid Natural Gas 74
b. Diesel Engines 75
c. Turbine Engines 76
(1) The Turbojet Engine 76
(2) The Turboprop Engine 77
(3) The Turbofan Engine 77
(4) The Micro Turbine Engine 77
2. Steam Engines 77
a. Reciprocating Steam Engines 78
b. Steam Turbines 78
3. Stirling Engines 78
B. Systems Not Powered by Combustion 78
1. Nuclear Fission Reactors 78
2. Nuclear Fusion 79
3. Fuel Cells 79
4. Batteries 80
a. Lead-acid Batteries 81
b. The Firefly Battery 81
c. Zinc-carbon Batteries 81
d. Zinc-air Batteries 81
e. Alkaline Batteries 82
f. Nicad, or Nickel-cadmium Batteries 82
g. Nickel Metal Hydride Batteries (Nimh) 82
h. The Lithium-ion Battery 83
i. Nickel-ferrous Batteries 83
C. Hybrid and Combination Systems 83
1. Diesel/electric Combinations 83
2. Dual-electric Buses 84
3. Gasoline/electric Combinations 84
4. Gas Micro Turbine/electric 84
5. Nuclear/steam Turbine Power Plants 84
6. The Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle 84
VI. New Hybrid and Other Vehicles Now Available, or Soon to
Be on the Market 85
A. Hybrid Vehicles 85
List of Hybrid Cars 86
B. PHEVs or Plugin Hybrid Electric Vehicles 86
VII. Energy Systems and Devices not Powered by Fuels 89
A. EVs, or Pure Electric Vehicles 89
Toyota announces a new RAV4 EV for 2012 90
B. Battery-powered Small Vehicles and Tools 93
C. There are a Few Other Vehicles Not Powered by Fuel 94
1. All-electric Trolleys 94
2. Inertia-powered Buses 94
3. Air-powered Vehicles 94
D. Where Does All this Energy Originate? 94
VIII. Fuel Pricing and Other Factors 95
The Hydrogen-powered Vehicle, Is it a Scam? 97
IX. A Bit of Speculation 99
X. Putting it All Together, the Optimal Energy Economy 107
Recap of Energy 108
Geothermal Power Is Possibly the Best Solution 109
XI. Wish List—Things We Wish Were Available Now 113
A. A PHEV or EV Conversion for Existing Vehicles 113
B. Geothermal Energy 115
C. Then There Is Butanol 116
XII. Conclusions and Predictions 117
Why We Are in This Dangerous Situation 117
GEOENERGY 118
Go Green on a Small Scale - Homes and Businesses 119
One Final Warning. 120
SECTION IV - Politics Rears its Ugly Head
A Sad State of Affairs 121
Some Personal Experiences 122
Changes in the World Economy 123
Government Involvement 125
Politicians and Political Forces 126
The Shining Example of Ireland 127
The Political Challenges We Face 129
The Realities of the Gulf Oil Disaster 135
Why any Changes in the Fuel/Energy Industry Will be so
Difficult and Costly to Accomplish 139
Some Personal Observations 145
Islam, the Brutality of Muslim Fundamentalism 156
The Growth of Socialist/communist Power in America 157
Who Actually Pays All Those Taxes? 158
Media and Environmentalist Promoted Political Gold Mine,
global warming. 161
The Real Reason for the Furor over Global Warming 169
Bully for Global Warming and a Warmer Climate 171
Some Thoughts About Other Realities. 175
Smokescreen Hate Campaigns Against Big Oil. 175
The Advantages of Size . 177
Government Run Enterprises. 178
A Wild (and extremely unlikely) Future Scenario 181
SECTION V - References and Recommendations
Author Recommended Books 187
Bibliography 188
Internet References and Links 189
Endnotes .190
SECTION VI - Appendix
American imagination, ingenuity and determination are
still alive and well. 191
President Bush's remarks about energy in his
2006 State of the Union Address 192
Hydrogen vehicle will not be viable soon, study says 197
National Fuel Cell Research Center at UC Irvine to
test new, efficient and clean power technology—excerpt 199
An investigation of the feasibility of coal-based methanol for
application in transportation fuel cell systems 200
GM Volt Concept Car—Press Release 205
Tesla Roadster, From EP to VP—excerpt 210
Phoenix Motorcars Exhibits All-electric Mid-size SUT 211
Japan to Set up Public/private EV Program 212
Firefly Battery: a Radically New Lead-acid Battery 214
New Information on the Firefly Oasis Battery 215
Chinese Battery Firm Rolls out Hybrid Car—excerpt 216
Power Technology - Douglas Battery Relationship—excerpt 216
Back from the Dead: The Future of Electric Vehicles—excerpt 217
The Electric Vehicles of Today and Tomorrow—excerpt 218
Neighborhood Electric Vehicles, a Niche Market 219
Nickel-metal Hydride Batteries, Why Are They Not Being Used? 220
Chevy Sequel: GM Press Release—excerpt 222
Is GM Putting Too Much on Batteries? 223
Altair Nanotechnologies Achieves Breakthrough in Battery Materials 225
A123systems Receives $40 Million Investment to
Expand Manufacturing of Plugin Hybrid Batteries—excerpt 229
Why Nanotechnology Could Be the Biggest Payoff since the Advent of the
Steam Engine 230
Nanotechnology, Information Technology, Industrial Processes—excerpt 231
The Nanotechnology Revolution, Dan Linstedt 232
Buckypaper, New Nanotechnology Development with Promise 234
Ex-environmental Leaders Tout Nuclear Energy—excerpt 235
U.S. Nuclear Industry PR Campaign, by J. R. Pegg—excerpt 235
New Process Generates Hydrogen from Aluminum Alloy 237
Engineers Develop Higher-energy Liquid Fuel from Sugar 241
Ultracapacitors, the Dark Horse in the Race to Power Hybrid Cars—excerpt 243
Ethanol May Not Be Good for the Environment—excerpt 244
GM Announces New Batteries for Chevrolet Volt Plugin Hybrid—excerpt 245
Some Information and Web Sites about Electric Vehicles 246
Table - Comparisons of Tesla EV with the Bentley Arnage T 247
Table - Comparison of the ACP eBox with the Toyota Prius 248
Table - Comparison of the Phoenix SUED with Toyota 4Dr Pickup 249
Phoenix SUED Specifications and Information 250
INDEX 251
Dedication
It is with great humility I express my gratitude to all of my family and friends who have endured hearing and reading my technical rumblings about the energy crisis and what should be done about it. They have been tolerant of my passion, my techno speak, and of numerous essays on the subject that I asked them to read and critique. Thanks to my sister and brother-in-law, Bobbie and Bob Grimm, for their considerable emotional and financial support of this effort. Without that support, this book would not exist. I especially appreciate and treasure the memory of my late wife, Barbara, who was my editor, proofreader, counselor, and constant support during much of the early time spent on this book even to her last days. These pages reflect much of her effort. She is surely cheering the publication of this work from on high. Thanks also to Daphne Fox whose help and support have been invaluable for the last years of my writing. Among the many who helped me in this endeavor are two others I especially want to thank. They are John O'Renick, who sent me an invaluable critique of an earlier manuscript and Al Kalar who made several excellent suggestions about the layout of the book and some of the content. Their excellent critiques enabled me to refine and improve the book and make it easier to read.
WHY THIS BOOK NOW?
About ten years ago I started writing a book titled simply, SOLUTIONS! In it I proposed practical solutions to many of the knotty problems facing our nation and even the world. I developed solutions to serious problems like drugs, the environment, tax systems, and national security, among others. I described various practical solutions, making each a chapter in the book. Among the many problems examined were two complex and related ones—energy and fuel systems. In 2003, while working on this, I heard an interview on National Public Radio about the substantial promise of the hydrogen fuel cell. The gentleman speaking explained with enthusiasm how it was going to revolutionize the transportation industry with vehicles that only exhausted pure water. It sounded quite promising to one who had worked and done research in the petroleum and energy industries often during the previous fifty years.
On the Internet, I found his website and emailed him about my interest in his work. I asked him if he would provide access to more information about this new technology. He replied quickly thanking me for my interest and providing me with a list of references, articles, and books on the subject, many he had written. I also began looking into the realities of the entire system of which the vehicle and its source of power are but a small part. By the time I had discovered what the whole system would entail: the raw materials, manufacturing processes, distribution, storage, and dispensing of hydrogen, the infrastructure required for such an undertaking, and the new technologies required to create all these interacting systems, it looked to be more than a daunting task. It looked prohibitively expensive. When I emailed him asking about infrastructure costs, he referred me to another member of his staff saying they would answer my query. Several unanswered emails later, I received a notice from his assistant informing me that the staff member I had emailed left for other employment, for greener pastures I presumed, and that I would soon be hearing from another. Months passed during which time I repeatedly emailed his office without any response. A few months later I received a failure notice from Yahoo. His email was no longer active. So much for the touted expert on the hydrogen fuel cell vehicle. Perhaps his government grant ran out and was not renewed.
This piqued my curiosity, heightened my interest, and brought to my attention the growing public concerns about energy and the environment. I began researching energy, energy systems, fuels, transport, and all the other parts of the complex, interactive systems that comprise energy. Added to what I had learned from my education and years of experience, it became a fascinating store of information—practical data about systems from past, present, and future. I have cataloged much of this information in Energy, Convenient Solutions along with my opinions about the forces that will control how we deal with the problems, the motives of those making crucial decisions, and the technologies involved. I’m certain there is much I have missed and much waiting in the wings to be discovered and touted by those who do such things. That’s how it is with virtually every item of science and technology. By the time information is published, it has been changed or replaced by a new discovery, system, or use of technology.
The reader may notice some repetition of facts and descriptions. This is because many facts or descriptions fit into several different areas covered in the book. Rather than use cross references that could cause confusion for the reader, many of these usually small parts are simply inserted in the new position within different points of reference. Some simply have more than one place in the orderly progression where they are a necessary fit.
INTRODUCTION
This book is about energy, energy systems, energy use, fuels, and fuel use. It describes some history of energy and fuels, their sources, practicality, and uses. It also describes many new and revolutionary materials and systems that could be solutions to the current energy crisis. The best combination of the solutions described could solve our energy crisis in just a few years, a decade at most. The real problem is in enacting these solutions. Implementation will be dependent on varied systems of interacting disciplines, companies, researchers, investors, and governments.
The author recognizes and uses a number of language conventions that are now quite common with which he does not agree. For example, carbon dioxide is quite commonly referred to as a greenhouse gas, a serious misnomer. The physical processes by which all gasses, including carbon dioxide, absorb, hold, and radiate heat energy in the atmosphere is completely different from that which holds heat in an actual greenhouse, the greenhouse effect. Also and related, Global Warming has come to have a very specific meaning that the author finds is far more an emotional belief system than a provable reality. Nevertheless, these terms and others, are used in the text where they convey their now common meanings. Incidently, some individuals are now applying another term to carbon dioxide that is categorically false. That term, applied strictly for political reasons, is pollutant. Carbon dioxide is no more an air pollutant than is water, argon, or nitrogen and the term, pollutant will not be used to describe carbon dioxide in this book. There are other terms that are similarly incorrect but have crept into the language by common usage.
THE MANY FORCES THAT WILL SHAPE OUR ENERGY SYSTEMS
Energy, fuels, and all their associated products and services make for some complex and interacting systems on an immense scale. This rapidly changing, worldwide set of systems is affected by a broad range of factors and circumstances. Some of the key ones include,
1. The state of the world's economy
2. Supply/demand balance
3. World prices of crude oil
4. The politics of nations and organizations that produce and sell crude oil
5. The politics and power of the oil-importing nations
6. Supposed global warming and its effects on policy and markets
7. The global warming movement and the power it wields
8. Profitability of alternate fuels compared with petroleum products
9. Profitability of various energy use systems
10. Profitability of various energy generating systems
11. Government involvement at many levels
12. Private investment
13. Public and private research efforts
14. The news media and even the world of entertainment
There are certainly many more, but to try to list them all would be foolish and counterproductive. Suffice to say that there are enough interacting variables to tax even the expert operators of the most sophisticated super computers. What this means is that significant changes in any of these factors can affect a number of others and not always in predictable ways.
THERE ARE MANY NEW AND OLD IDEAS AND SYSTEMS DESCRIBED HEREIN.
The author makes no apologies for favoring some over others. I favor mostly those that seem to be practical, economical and especially speedy. Some of these have come to prominence recently and thus are not covered as thoroughly as others. Things are changing rapidly in this field with new ideas and products appearing almost daily. The rapidly fluctuating price of petroleum triggers many of these changes. It is my belief that an energy shortage or crunch is coming much sooner than most expect. The long-range forecast is for oil prices to spiral upward. The worldwide recession has temporarily halted the rapid rise over the previous few years, but sooner or later the recession will abate and oil prices will continue their long-range rise. Systems described in this book or new ones not yet imagined will eventually replace petroleum because of market forces.
The purpose of this book is to provide information and encouragement for the doers, movers and shakers in our nation—the entrepreneurs. The many energy systems described run from those used for several hundred years to those just discovered and in their infancy. Many of these will fall into disuse or be kept for historical or sentimental usage.
Here's a bit of old news: For all practical purposes, the horse and buggy have left the American scene. Except for the Amish and some nostalgic sight seeing uses, they have disappeared. The Stanley Steamer and the Baker Electric, once quite popular are now found only in museums or in the hands of collectors. The iron horse of the plains is but a memory with a rare few still in collections or on sightseeing railroads. A few World War I Sopwith Camels and World War II Japanese Zeros are still flying. Last fall I witnessed a Boeing B17E Flying Fortress fly by while I was walking on a popular Florida beach. It was quite a thrill watching that half a century old legend still flying. How vastly different it is from the modern B2 bomber. This illustrates the increasing speed with which technology advances. Most of what we have today would be as unrecognizable during the era of the B17 as the B17 would have been at the time of the revolutionary war.
As time passes, the evolution of technology accelerates. The sum of scientific knowledge approximately doubles every fifteen years. This has been going on since the time of Copernicus in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, Galileo and Kepler in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries and Newton in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. Western science seems to ignore the work of Muslim mathematicians and astronomers who knew that the earth was a sphere and revolved around the sun centuries earlier than Europeans. They, in turn, had learned from Greek and Persian astronomers and mathematicians after translating much knowledge into Arabic from Greek and Persian. These early scientists in turn probably learned much of their knowledge of mathematics and astronomy from the Egyptians.
What about today? With computers to record our work and the Internet to distribute it, new knowledge quickly spans the globe as the sum of knowledge continues its geometric expansion. Not only are we learning new things faster, but new, practical and sometimes serendipitous findings now spread around the world at the speed of light. Information can be distributed instantly, but the actual creation of new items, systems, procedures and processes still requires time and considerable effort to move from raw material to finished products. Most of these fall by the wayside because of unattractive appearance, lack of understanding of their actual value, lack of economic appeal, or even erroneous perceptions. If another item or system is cheaper with the same value or even more expensive but with superior value, that system will prevail. Except within government bureaucracies, profitability is the clue to the economic success of any item or system. The life of even a well-accepted technology can soon be eclipsed by a newer, better or cheaper technology. Witness the evolution in recorded music from the wax cylinder to the brittle 78, the flexible LP and 45, to reel tape, to 8-track tape, to cassette tape, to CD, to DVD, and now micro chip and Ipod. The effective life of each system lasted for a shorter period of time than its predecessor. This is the nature of accelerating technology in the music business as in many other industries.
This book is about the same kind of event happening in the energy industry, a much broader field than music, with many more variations and possibilities. A problem or need arises. Creative minds search for answers, primarily to find ways to make money, a living, even wealth. They present these many answers to the public in ways from simple word-of-mouth contacts to mass media advertising. All things being equal, the highly advertised will always prevail over the word-of-mouth simply because it reaches far more people in a shorter time. By the time widget A gets started by word of mouth, widget B has thousands of orders from its massive advertising.
So it will be with the new systems described in this book. Individuals and companies of many different sizes pursue these proposals or developments, some with patents, some without. I have some distinct opinions of the systems we can and should end up using. Time will provide the reality to my opinions. The same can be said for those interim products needed to move us from total dependence on petroleum to multiple energy systems in the next decade or so. I also have some definite opinions about those I think will not be successful. I freely share these opinions with readers throughout the book.
It makes no difference who or what is blamed for rapidly rising fuel prices, or where they go in the future. It makes no difference what your position is on environmentalism. It makes no difference what the reality is about global warming. It makes no difference how much oil companies are hated or loved. None of these change the fact that we still need alternative fuels and energy sources. They have become an absolute necessity because of diminishing supplies of petroleum.
Use of any fossil fuel will add carbon dioxide to the atmosphere. There are only two known ways to use energy without adding carbon dioxide to the atmosphere. The same two methods will apply whether or not we are forced to survive without petroleum fuels for any reason.
The first and most obvious is energy from fuels derived from plant materials—nonfossil sources. Carbon dioxide created by the burning of these fuels came originally from the atmosphere. Thus, use of fuel produced from plant sources only returns carbon dioxide to the atmosphere that was originally taken from it. These no net carbon dioxide fuels include many common materials: wood, ethanol from corn, methane recovered from landfills, methanol, butanol, DMF and ethanol from plant material fermentation, oils from plant sources including soy beans, palms, and algae, pelletized agricultural waste, and any other form of fuel from recent biological activity.
The second way is, and promises to be, far larger than no net carbon dioxide fuels both today and in the future. It includes all non combustion processes for generating energy. Those energy systems currently in use include nuclear, river water, solar, wind, tidal water, ocean wave action, and geothermal. Each of these has its own set of challenges, including practical limits, funding, new technologies, environmental impacts, site locations, weather problems, real or imagined dangers, government controls, and concerns of the public.
Any or all of these processes could be used to generate electric power for grid distribution in the optimal energy economy of the future as described in these pages. It remains for some nation or organization to take the high road to the cheap, safe, portable, no net carbon dioxide-producing energy that these processes promise. Once in use, the benefits to the economy of any nation that uses it will be unlimited.
Nuclear power, is it passé? In the past, nuclear power has been touted as the best way to produce safe, clean, energy without producing carbon dioxide. Unfortunately, a very slanted and scary movie, The China Syndrome, so frightened the American public that the entire nuclear industry was scuttled at tremendous expense and waste. Once more, perception of the American people trumped reality. This false perception was generated by a fictional story. It baffles me that the public believes a completely fictional story over the obvious reality. Hollywood must still be gloating over the destructive power wielded by their movie. It is interesting to note that it was based on an actual nuclear accident, the one at Three Mile Island. The interesting thing about that accident is that the safety features of the plant worked. The danger was contained just as the plant was designed to do. Radioactive leakage was far less than the maximum considered safe and the resulting dispersed radiation was barely detectable above normal background radiation. There was never any detectable radiation danger. Fortunately for France and China, they didn't believe or ignored the intended message of the movie, understood the reality, and are now rapidly developing and building nuclear power plants. By the way, nuclear power has been proven the safest of all types of power plants in real terms of human lives lost and bodies injured. I wonder why Hollywood and the media never acknowledge that fact?
Following are some recently released estimates showing the present distribution of the various worldwide energy sources. Also shown are two potential energy sources and how they could stack up for the future.
Hydro electric 15% 2,665 Terawatts
Nuclear 15% 2,665 Terawatts
Natural Gas 20% 3,481 Terawatts
Oil 7% 1,218 Terawatts
Coal 40% 6,963 Terawatts
Renewable fuels 2% 348 Terawatts
Geothermal 1.25% 268 Terawatts
Wave Potential 200% 34,816 Terawatts
Geothermal Potential 1000+% 160,000+ Terawatts
The last two on the list could turn out to be the best in all ways including economic. Geothermal power could be the real winner in an all-out competition given that useable geothermal energy is available in about 60 percent of the area of North America, and similarly throughout the world. This is covered in sections II C and III A 5 on geothermal power. I wonder if Hollywood will mount a new attack on progress with The China Syndrome II about a cataclysmic geothermal volcanic explosion. Do not put it past them. Right now in California, several geothermal plants have been supplying power for some time. Though still a tiny part of the overall mix, geothermal power has the most long term potential of any system, including wave energy power.
The marine energy sector is in its infancy compared with all the other energy sources we use today, including geothermal. It's only now starting to gain a lot more attention, and what is more important, the large influx of investment capital it needs to expand. Wave action power generation of the ocean is a recent technology with great promise. Like geothermal, it is already in use for a tiny portion of our electric power. While wave energy is only a possibility to many people, the truth is it is now a practical reality. Several ocean energy companies are not only producing power right now, but they are landing power purchase agreements with the major utilities. No better proof exists that this power generation system is viable than a power purchase agreement. A small Canadian firm that few people even know exists recently picked up a long-term deal with a major utility in California to deliver power to the grid.
Here's what we are facing: Pundits now report that the coming change in energy is certain to be the most drastic and overwhelming disruption the energy markets will ever see. Besides water, there is nothing more critical for the entire world than adequate supplies of cheap energy. We rely upon it for our transportation, our food, our medicine, our clothing, our agriculture. It's the underlying force that keeps the world moving. As we've already begun to see with oil, it is also the one thing that can bring the global community to its knees, if there is not enough of it. So needless to say, an energy resource that is immeasurable and inexpensive is an energy resource that will drive the next evolution of our energy economy. There are not many proven technologies to choose from right now.
Why Petroleum Will not be the Answer
Back in March of 2005 I read a dire prediction about petroleum. It was a confirmation of what I and many in the oil industry have known and studied for as long as 50 years. We have known and predicted the growing, rapid decline in world oil production between the year 2000 and 2025 even that long ago. The March 2005 prediction said we were about to run out of oil. Actually, that is not true. It should have said the discovery and extraction of new crude combined with existing supplies was not keeping up with demand. It correctly reported the price of oil was about to go through the roof. Oil was predicted to reach $80 a barrel within the next two years and go as high as $185 a barrel.
Steve Forbes couldn't resist ridiculing this prediction. He made his own prediction, “In 12 months, you're going to see oil down to $35 to $40 a barrel. It's a huge bubble, I don't know what's going to pop it but eventually it will pop. You cannot go against supply and demand, you cannot go against the fundamentals forever.”
The last part of his statement was right on the money. You cannot go against supply and demand forever. That was more than three years ago and now it's reality. Crude oil passed $130 a barrel in May of 2008, and everybody from President Bush to OPEC to the CEOs of Big Oil now say exactly what that prediction was saying in 2005. The world's supply of easy oil is quickly running out. In spite of this, the current economic down turn quickly brought crude oil prices down dramatically. Strange how the recession made Steve Forbes’ prediction come true. A quick economic turnaround and oil prices will return to the stratosphere. This pause in rising prices could provide us the time to convert to alternatives, but that is not likely to happen. Besides the human nature to put things off, venture capital required to develop alternative energy has suddenly dried up. The increase in taxes promised by our new government will further inhibit investment.
Little has changed even though all of these seem to have gotten the message: government officials, oil company CEOs, even consultants to the petroleum industry worldwide. They have responded with statements like,
“Growth in global demand for oil is accelerating and the supply is not.”
“The era of cheap energy is over, permanently.”
“Access to oil and gas can no longer keep up with the demand.”
“Prices of all petroleum products are poised to go through the roof.”
Then there is my own prediction made early in 2007 in the manuscript for this book of $200 per barrel petroleum and $8 a gallon gasoline for the U.S. in 2010. When I first included that full page prediction, I wrote it as a scare tactic, an attention getter, a way to capture the imagination of the reader. Little did I realize it would be a fairly accurate prediction. It is still there in the middle of Section II of the book along with a new prediction of what will happen with low oil prices. The recession of 2008 brought about a short, two to four year delay of the inevitable.
As the world's oil production slows and the demand for oil rises, the results could be catastrophic. Prices were rising precipitously, not only on oil and oil products, but on virtually every other product or commodity. The first indicators of the looming disaster, rising prices for food and then other items are already evident. Grain prices doubled in the years before the 2008 recession as grain was taken from the food supply to make biofuels. The ripple effect of this switch began creating shortages in poor areas of the world where starvation is a major problem. The world recession of 2008 temporarily reversed these price increases, but by early 2010 they were rising once more. The rapid drop of petroleum prices and the cost of fuel at the pump pleased most Americans. Of course, the job losses and business failures that accompany these dropping prices are not very pleasing. When and if economic stability and economic growth return, oil prices will once again head for the stratosphere. This will only get worse until and unless we develop the new energy systems described herein. The long-range prospects remain for less and less oil at higher and higher prices.
In their edition of May 12, 2008, The Maine Sentinel reported, “The modern world needs cheap oil like the human body needs oxygen; remove it, and we could be headed for economic decline, resource wars and social chaos.” To me, if cheap oil is like oxygen then even more so is the broader term, cheap energy. Cheap alternative fuels and cheap and plentiful energy are both essential to the health of the world's economies. To prevent monumental economic disasters for the whole world, some individual or group must come up with viable solutions to cheap fuels and energy. Viable energy alternatives are certainly within our grasp. It is vital that we develop these into practical, working systems.
High prices for virtually everything could lead to lower demand, but this could spiral into a very bad depression. In view of the rapidly increasing demand for oil in China followed closely by India and several other nations, economic disaster could be upon us soon and will be the most serious challenge the modern world has ever faced. Hungry and angry people lead to desperate people which in turn can lead to horrible consequences. Should the price of oil and energy continue to escalate it will eventually be priced beyond the ability of ordinary people to pay for it. At this point the economic collapse will be sudden and catastrophic. No developed nation is equipped to handle such a collapse. That's why we must act now—immediately and decisively. Delaying will lead to widespread conflict and even war—war unlike any we have ever seen.
Although most people still believe we have plenty of oil and natural gas and that the prices will soon return to previous levels, others are beginning to realize that is just not true. Left leaning politicians and the talking heads on TV are still saying how we can solve the problem with conservation and new technologies. Reducing our consumption of oil, it will fall back to less than fifty dollars a barrel. That places them firmly among the glue-sniffers. In all seriousness, how can they possibly believe this will happen? This is especially true for the pundits and analysts who regularly appear on television to talk about how improved technology will continue to lower energy costs and bring as much energy to market as we demand. This will force the price of oil back down to $35 a barrel. It will never happen in that way. Market forces will always control the price of oil even as it has dropped the price precipitously because of the deepening recession of 2008. Even if we opened up all the fields in and around our nation to drilling, it would only delay the problem and not for long at that.
Again, remember Steve Forbes' infamous prediction in 2005 that higher oil prices would cause supply to increase and outpace demand. But, according to Matthew Simmons, the world's top oil investment banker and an energy adviser to President George W. Bush, the idea that cheap oil would last forever is a 21st-century myth: “The religion was faith-based, not fact-based! It was an illusion!” At the first Association for the Study of Peak Oil and Gas (ASPO) conference in 2005, Simmons observed that the peak oil problem had started to look like a theological debate, and quoted Dr. Herman Franssen, saying, “It is time to leave ‘I believe’ inside a church.” The facts are that our largest oil reservoirs are running out of oil and their production is falling. Most of the world's current oil production is from fields that are past their prime and are now declining. These fields include most of the world's biggest and most productive.
Kuwait's Burgan Oil Field—In an incredible revelation early in May of 2008 it was reported by the Kuwait Oil Company that its Burgan field, the world's second largest oil field, is tapped out and has passed peak output.
Cantarell, The Third Largest Oil Field in the World, Petroleos Mexicanos (Pemex), Mexico's state oil monopoly, expects its production at the Cantarell oil field to slow earlier than previously forecast. Their chief executive said the decline is now expected to average 14% a year starting in 2007 and go down soon after.
Most of the other known reserves of petroleum are in fields that are at least beginning to decline. New fields are getting smaller and harder (read more expensive) to find and bring into production. This has been going on for at least ten or fifteen years. Even the latest oil recovery technologies have had less than dramatic results. Instead of increasing the amount of oil available, these techniques have brought about the more rapid depletion of the existing reserves. The future for cheap oil looks even grimmer as these technologies have hastened the demise of existing oil reserves and reduced the promise of future production. This is already a factor in the rapid rise of the cost of crude.
Add to this, the enormous oil deposits offshore and in Alaska that have been removed from exploration and production almost exclusively by over zealous environmentalists. Then there are those proven fields in our country where the cost of drilling and extraction is between $20 and $30 a barrel. These fields, including one in North Dakota that holds as much as a fifty-year supply of sweet crude, were never tapped when crude could be purchased for $10 a barrel. Now that crude prices have gone so high and it becomes economically feasible to mine, it will take several years to drill, reach, and pump enough of this oil to make any impact. Drilling will take a sizeable investment which comes only from the profits of the oil companies. Should the government, as suggested, increase the taxes on those oil companies, this oil will take just that much longer to be made available. Those politicians and media talking heads never mention that while whipping up public animosity toward Big Oil, do they? They do not want you to know their efforts are the largest contributors to the high prices you must pay for fuel and those efforts are the chief reason we are sending trillions to despotic states that plot our destruction.
Many oil experts both in and outside of the industry correctly predicted the rising prices of crude almost to the dollar as long ago as early 2005. What amplifies the problem is the fact that for every calorie of food consumed in the United States, there were 10 calories of fossil fuel consumed to make the fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides; fuel to run the machines that plant, tend, harvest, transport, and process the goods; and fuel to deliver them and refrigerate them. That is without considering the energy you use going to and from the stores and then to cook your food. This means that as fuel prices rise, everything that includes a cost of fuel in their mix will rise along with fuel. The extensive use of cheap fossil fuels in food production is what has enabled the world population to multiply by four and a half times in the last century to around 6.7 billion people at the present.
It's quite simple; food is fuel and energy. Food travels an average of 1,300 miles from the farm to the plate in North America, leading critics such as James Howard Kunstler to decry the 3,000-mile Caesar salad that travels from California's breadbasket, the San Joaquin Valley, to his table in Scranton, Pennsylvania. We need oil for nearly everything we do, and our entire infrastructure is built on the assumption that there will always be lots of it. Serious problems and expensive shortages are no longer coming. They are already here.
“A Saudi oil-output hike would not solve U.S. problems.” George Bush 10:04 A.M. May 17, 2008.
U.S. President George W. Bush said that a hike in oil output by Saudi Arabia would not solve American energy problems. “It's not enough, it's something but it doesn't solve our problem,” Bush told reporters in Egypt's Red Sea resort of Sharm el-Sheikh. Bush said he was pleased with a Saudi decision taken on May 10 to increase its oil production by 300,000 barrels per day in response to customers, but said that he was also realistic about what the Americans should do.
“Our problem in America gets solved when we aggressively go for domestic exploration. Our problem in America gets solved if we expand our refining capacity, promote nuclear energy and continue our strategy for the advancing of alternative energies as well as conservation,” he said. “It is divided into three comprehensive parts The Crisis in a Barrel, Making Money from the Fossil Fuels That Are Left, and Energy after Oil.”
The first two are only band-aids on the problem and merely delay our eventual succumbing to depletion of crude supplies, and not for long. The third is the only option we have and that is what this book is about.
A dangerous reality most politicians, the media, and the public seem to ignore is that the billions of dollars of investment required to power the twofold answer to the energy crises—new oil and alternative energy—must come from oil company profits. Increasing taxes on business will lower this amount substantially and discourage exploration, research and development. Substantial profits of American business are essential to our economic health and to finding solutions to the real energy crisis. The economic explosion of China and other countries will cause the price of crude to keep right on growing past $130 per barrel and heading for $200. Witness the following news report:
China's crude demand is expanding at 11% a year. China has already passed the U.S. as the emitter of the most carbon dioxide in the world and will soon replace the U.S. as the world's biggest oil importer. The growth of India's oil demand is not far behind. These two nations account for a third of humanity. As their breakneck development continues, the energy needs of their factories and construction firms along with those in Brazil, Mexico and other populous emerging markets can only escalate.
Specifically, as these countries get richer, and their citizens can afford more, the number of cars in the world, now around 625 million, is set to double in less than 20 years. Think of the impact of that on global oil demand, seeing as around 70% of current crude output is used to fuel cars.
Above quoted from the UK Telegraph, April 2008 (before the economic crisis broke)
But wait just a minute! The imminence of peak oil may not be as threatening as we’ve been warned. In an article in the October 2009 issue of Scientific American, author Leonard Maugeri reports on advanced technologies that offer ways to economically extract nearly as much oil known to be underground as has already been delivered. This could extend the actual supply available well into the next century at around current crude prices that fluctuate between $50 and $80 per barrel in 2009 dollars. This means that competitive fuels and energy systems will of necessity need to be in the same or lower range of cost or they will simply not be viable for a very long time. Steve Forbes’ price predictions may not have been so far off the mark after all. Such information is certain to frighten away some investors now considering alternative fuels and energy systems. It will cause others to become nervous and cautious about investing their money in new energy. It will also displease the gurus of global warming.
* * *
SECTION II - Some General Information
What this Book Is Really About
Perhaps the best way to explain what this book is about is to tell what it is NOT about.
It is definitely not a hand wringing message of doom, gloom and contempt for America.
We have far too many of these messages of doom and gloom given to us daily in the media and by politicians. These vitriolic elitists have nothing good to say or predict about America or Americans. They seem to be doing everything they can to discredit, take away, and destroy all the things most Americans—actually most people in the world—want for themselves and their families. Mostly the availability of everything people want boils down to E-N-E-R-G-Y and what it costs—energy to light our cities and our homes, power our factories, move our vehicles, operate our computers, fly our airplanes, power our medical technology, grow our crops, and build our buildings—energy that does so much for us every day. Of course, fuel is but one part of the energy equation.
Two opposing views of how to manage energy come from differing political viewpoints. One is to utilize the systems proposed in this book to expand energy systems and grow our domestic economy. The other is the way of those who would limit its use, and reduce consumption. Mostly they would use government to enforce stricter and stricter limits, often by levying taxes to artificially raise the price and so reduce use. These people and the power they wield is covered in a later section titled, Politics Rears its Ugly Head, starting on page 121 and going through page 159.
It is Not about Solutions in the Distant Future
This book proposes solutions in years, instead of decades, with little infrastructure changes using existing technologies. These solutions are based on total energy systems including creation, storage, distribution, use, power grid stations, fuel manufacture, waste disposal, local power generators, vehicles and vehicle power systems. Not to examine and develop these alternative energy sources is economic suicide.
It Is Not Just about the Growing Demand for Oil
It is interesting to note that the rapidly expanding economies of India, China, and some other third world nations are demanding increasing amounts of petroleum and will continue to do so for years into the immediate future. China is currently on a binge of building power plants and developing sources for petroleum, even near our Gulf Coast. Since the Florida legislature had the wisdom to prohibit American companies from drilling for oil in the Gulf of Mexico near the coast of Florida, our friends, the Chinese, in cooperation with our friends, the Cubans, are now drilling for that oil a few miles off our coast. By using slant drilling techniques, they will be able to extract oil from beneath our continental shelf off Florida and Louisiana. They are not restricted by the safety and environmental rules American companies must abide by, so they can do it the cheap and dirty way. So much for the wisdom of our politicians in protecting our Gulf Coast from oil spills. See The Realities of the Gulf Oil Disaster on page 134 and then on page 150 for more information about this major environmental disaster. It seems even with our government controls, disasters still happen.
It Is Not Just about Alternative Fuels
The only real question is, can we convert to alternative fuels fast enough to avert economic disaster? These fuels alone may not provide the solution as they bring about problems of their own, like competition with food. What we actually need is new and more practical energy systems for generating electricity.
It Is Not Just about New Types of Vehicles
The part of the energy use system that the public most responds to and the media most reports about are snazzy new cars. They are also among the last essential parts needed for our overall energy systems. Without a complete operational system to distribute energy from source to vehicle, those cars are merely a useless hunk of unmovable metal and plastic.
It Is Not Just about Reducing Global Warming
There are several overwhelming reasons why we must quickly develop new, innovative energy systems to create and distribute energy. Ideally, these systems will not require fossil fuels or new and expensive infrastructure. Supposed global warming caused by carbon dioxide is the least of these reasons. Even without this consideration, we desperately need an alternative to petroleum products. Thanks in large part to limits imposed by our over zealous and intrusive government, they are becoming more difficult and expensive to find and recover. A sudden, major disruption of the oil supply would wreak havoc with the world economy. It could create a depression that would make the one in the thirties look mild in comparison. This is not an American problem, but a worldwide one.
It's Not about Waiting for a Major Catastrophe
Many of the concepts and systems described are already in existence. We have started to design, build and even use some of these advanced nonfossil fuel systems. This major shift away from petroleum fuels must be made quickly enough to avert the catastrophic economic menace that rising prices for petroleum fuels promise. Those accelerating prices are even now beginning to bring serious economic problems down on the entire world. An adequate solution could probably be found within the systems described in these pages.
It Is Not Just about an Economic Bonanza
Should we develop programs using these systems, the benefits to our nation and the world would be substantial and almost immediate. The optimal energy system would provide far more material benefits than just economic growth and prosperity.
It IS about Preventing Economic Collapse and War
Make no mistake, the real threat of new kinds of war looms larger each day. This tension is fueled by the growing demand for energy from those large nations now experiencing explosive economic growth and demanding more oil as their economies accelerate. The dangerous conflict in The Republic of Georgia was most likely one of these over control of energy. This is compounded by an accelerating food shortage that is possibly even more dangerous than the fuel shortage. As the prosperity of these large nations grows, the demand for fuel and food is far outstripping the supply. The result can be hungry people running amuck in killing frenzies as has happened in much of Africa. Add Islamic fundamentalist terrorists from nations awash in oil money and we have two easily recognizable groups that care nothing about human lives and would not hesitate to snuff out a few hundred million. They would also cheer loudly at the murder of virtually every person in the West. That we find new, nonpetroleum-based systems for energy generation, transport and use is essential to help prevent this from happening. The answer to this can certainly be found by pursuing some of the avenues laid out in these pages. Hopefully, an abundance of cheap energy that does not interfere with the food supply will relieve some of that danger, as well.
It's Not about Words and Emotional Reactions
We always have plenty of that from politicians and the world of entertainment including the media whose stock in trade is the use of words to stir emotions. These voices, frequently of doom and gloom, often falsely condemn many who could be instrumental in solving problems. In fact, they can be causing considerable damage by dividing us and generating discouragement and conflict. They use class envy and contrived figures to entice anger and distrust among the people for the very organizations that are best equipped to solve our many, growing problems.
What we need is positive action—actually many actions by creative people who do much more than talk—and the leadership to help guide and inspire us all. We desperately need people who design and build, the men and women with creative minds and laboring hands who are willing to work hard to provide us both the ideas and the actuality of new energy technology. We need those skilled and hard-working hands that till the soil, build the infrastructure, and operate the computers and machinery, and yes even those who manage and invest. These are what drive the productive engine that has been and hopefully will continue to be America.
Those people are there, now, hard at work trying to solve our problems in the old-fashioned way, American ingenuity and drive. Spurred on by the promise of tremendous rewards if their efforts are successful, those who participate are many, often unknown. The promise of profits—a dirty word to the ignorant and those who would control them—is the fuel that drives the creative human engine that could solve most of our problems if given the chance. It is these free entrepreneurs and investors who will solve the energy crisis if only those posturing and strutting politicians and government officials would stay out of their way.
This book tries to describe the wonders entrepreneurs have created and the ones that will solve our energy problems.
For those who think I am a bit over critical of our government let me say that I appreciate and applaud the effort of those few dedicated public servants who work hard within the burdensome bureaucracy and help our nation. My criticisms of government are of the indolent, make-work leeches in the bureaucracy created by self-serving politicians, and those many self-serving politicians themselves.
I have gained much information from DOE web sites:
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The third one of my books, Memloirs from the Lakeside, has just been released in a second edition. This edition has a greatly expanded number of significant quotes that are now distributed throughout the book in what were white spaces at the ends of chapters or stories.
Memoirs from the Lakeside is a combination anthology and collection of quotes, quips, poems, essays, letters, and memoirs. Many of my contributions were written as early as 1960. Some of the quotes are from earlier times, dating as far back as before the Common Era.
Over many years I have collected a wide variety of sayings, letters, poems, essays and memoirs. All of the essays, letters, and memoirs, are my own work as are many of the sayings and other writings. In any case, the sources and authors are acknowledged except for those marked, unknown or anonymous. Many of the memoirs are from my childhood and youth years around Lake Tippecanoe in Northern Indiana. Because of the variety from one liners to complete stories, Memoirs from the Lakeside is an ideal read for a few minutes or for a relaxed hour. Many of the true stories are actually memoirs recalling memorable happenings from a very full life. I have had a blast for a life with many contacts with wonderful and fascinating people—friends, relatives, lovers, and those sharing but a single moment. Many of these often haunting experiences are shared within the pages of this book.
Parts of the memoirs are very personal revelations. Most are fond memories of treasured experiences, often with loved ones. Some are memories that carry some unpleasantness, but that is just the way life happens.
I am a member of a group of memoir writers who meet for an hour and a half every Wednesday morning. Several members read their work during each meeting, then we all can comment. It is interesting to note that often one memoir will trigger a memory of a similar or related story in one or more of our minds. Almost every meeting, one reading will trigger a memory in my mind and prompt me to write a new memoir. The number of memoirs I have written as part of this group are now a part of this new book.
I’m sure I have enough more memories to fill at least one more book of memoirs. It seems that each memoir I write prompts memories of other happenings worth writing about.
Excerpts: Parts of several sections of the book
DEDICATION
This book is who I am, what I think, what I believe, what I imagine, what I dream of, why and whom I love . . . in short, it is a collection of bits and pieces of my life—of me. It is also a testimonial to all those beautiful human beings who, through love and some blunt trauma, helped me become the person I am. Therefore, I dedicate this book with great love and affection to all of my family and friends, those persons whose actions helped create, guide, inspire, stimulate, and mold my life into the person I am today. My passionate desire to please and never to displease them has guided me in positive directions throughout my lifetime. The family members, lovers, friends, mentors and teachers who have left this earth are greatly appreciated and sorely missed. I have been so blessed by these wonderful people and many friends and acquaintances.
It includes a number of memoirs first published in my first anthology, Words from the Lakeside. My passionate desire to please and never to displease them has guided me in positive directions throughout my lifetime. The family members, lovers, friends, mentors, and teachers who have left this earth are profoundly appreciated and sorely missed. I have been blessed to have known all of these incredible people, family, friends and acquaintances.
I have decided to list in this dedication as many of those people as I can without creating an entire new book. They are remembered in roughly chronological order. Many of these important people have roles in stories and essays in this book. I have been blessed with a close, loving relationship with members of my family, unique to each one. Those described as special were not loved any more than others. There was something different, maybe magic, about the two of us together. It defies definition. There were those, other than family, with which I felt a special connection as well. In this book, there is a description of a conversation with one of my grandparents that clearly illustrates my meaning. Those that are not listed are no less loved or appreciated. If I listed all of them, there would be no pages left for the burgeoning content already in place.
The first was of course, my mother, Ethel Johnson. A tiny woman, she was still a powerful and loving presence to all who knew her. Mom was a dedicated Christian with all of the best that can mean. She was a loving mother, in the best sense of that calling. She was also a shining example of a truly decent person to everyone she met for the entire 96 years she was alive on this planet. To my knowledge, every organization she joined in her life elected her president. She was loved by all family and friends who knew her.
My father, Howard R. Johnson, was a decent, honorable, Christian man. He was as terrific and faithful a father as a boy, then a young man could have. Our close, extended relationship continued when we were in business together for nearly twenty years. A stable, dependable man, he taught me that tears were a manly expression saying only brave and secure men cry openly. Many of the most joyous moments in my life were when I made him proud of me. I will never forget the countless happy hours we spent together, or the experiences we shared.
My grandparents, Eva May and George Dickinson, were the only grandparents I knew. My father’s parents both died before I was old enough to remember. Grandma Dick was a strong and loving woman who taught me a great deal. Granddad Dick and I had a special, close relationship that was reinforced during numerous fishing trips. Granddad Dick was a master story teller and wove his magic on me frequently, when I was quite young. He taught me much about the realities of life, and how to deal with them.
Many a time when one of his stories was being woven on their porch I would hear Grandma Dick calling from elsewhere in the house, “George! You quit filling that boy’s head with your nonsense.”
Granddad would grow silent for a moment then resume with a much softer voice.
My sisters, one a virtual second mother, the other, my nemesis during my childhood, added their individual, loving touches to whom I am. Both, like our mother and father, were deeply Christian women, but quite different in their passions and how they practiced their religion. Lois, twelve years my senior was much like our father, even being born on his birthday. A strong willed yet gentle and loving force, she and I were extremely close. Roberta or Bobbie, six years older than I, had a temperament different from Lois’s. We fought constantly when we were young, typical sibling battles, but often quite passionate. As adults we still battle occasionally over differences of opinions, but those differences have no effect on the strong bonds, of love and respect, we have for each other.
My two brothers-in-law, Lois’s husband Harold, and Bobbie’s Robert were as fine a set of brothers as a man could have. As different as my two sisters, they were a positive influence on others and especially on their little brother or Bro.
There were aunts, uncles, and cousins, who brought joy and companionship to early days. Though most are now passed away, they are all remembered fondly. Of those few remaining, several are still kept in contact if only with Christmas cards.
There are nephews and nieces and their families in almost countless numbers, the next generation now carrying the torch of family. They are also loved and treasured. There are many among the group with whom I have a special relationship. You know who you are and what I mean.
The lovers in my life have had a staggering emotional impact on the person I am. There are stories about most of them herein. I will not provide the details, some of which could be painful to many people involved. Needless to say, each of them was loved deeply and passionately. I still care deeply for each of them and know the love shared with each diminishes in no way the love for any of the others.
Dolores was my first love, professed at 17, who became my wife and the mother of five of my children. A dedicated and devoted mother, she sacrificed many times for our children. After many happy years with our large brood, our marriage fell apart, and we were divorced. With the well being of our children foremost in each of our minds, we kept our difficulties hidden as best we could. Neither of us ever said a bad or harmful thing about the other to any of our brood. Time softened our feelings and buried our differences. We enjoyed a friendly relationship until her death.
Caroline rescued me from the depths of depression and helped me regain my lost self esteem. Her love and compassion were the most powerful forces in turning my life from the angry, damaging path I had chosen. She presented me with a beautiful daughter in 1968. For several reasons and in spite of our great affection for each other, we parted company when Kristen was three. To my boundless joy, we have been reconciled and are now friends.
Iola came into my life a few years after I left Cleveland and moved to Chicago to try to put my life back in some kind of order. Once more I stumbled into a truly exceptional woman who helped me restore my devastated self respect. Iola has two delightful daughters who became, and remain to this day, as two of my own. After a number of years together, we drifted apart when I moved to Indiana.
Barbara, my wife and companion for the golden years, brought joy and her two delightful grown sons into our marriage. She also filled my life with love and spirited activity. When I began writing seriously, she became my editor and critic. She was positively brutal with a red pen. Her efforts contributed a great deal directly to this book.
After we were married, she became a Methodist pastor and led a small country congregation in a church “in the middle of three cornfields” as she always said.
A committed Christian, she took to the ministry with a vigor and determination that grew the small church considerably. With both of us far from any family, the congregation became our family, warts and all as she frequently remarked. I was so proud of her accomplishments in the pulpit and with the many members who loved her dearly and showed it. It was devastating to us both when she had to step down because of failing health. The outpouring of accolades and tears from the congregation on her last day in the pulpit was overwhelming. She left us at far too early an age and is now missed terribly, and will continue to be.
Daphne, who came into my life possibly through the efforts of my guardian angel (story in the book) is now my passion, my lover, and my dearest friend. It is our sincere hope we can enjoy many of the golden years together and then go peacefully. She brought her own large and loving family with her along with a bevy of dear friends. They have now become my family and friends as well. Sadly, one of us will mourn the other when the time comes.
My children and grandchildren are a precious legacy of deep and everlasting love. Again, there is much about each of them in the book. I am so proud of what they have accomplished, and the individuals they have become.
Deborah, Debby, or Deb, is a delightful and energetic woman, the mother of two grown sons and grandmother of my first great-grandchild, Kelan. A dedicate career educator, she is a hard worker, leader, and friend to others. The winter I spent with her after losing Barb was a precious time of remembering, healing, and getting on with my life. It was a joyful, lifting experience at a time when I needed to be lifted.
Howard Michael, Mike, or Noward to his siblings, is the kind of son many men dream of having. He has three accomplished sons of his own. The oldest, Russ, and his wife presented me with my second great grand child, a girl named Jameson.
Roberta, Robbie, Rob is a full-time mother to three teenage girls. The quiet one of her siblings, she is a softly loving woman with deep emotions.
Diana, or Dee Dee is a vivacious bundle of energy and love. The Aunty Mame of our family, there is never a dull moment when she is around.
Melinda, or Mindy, is the delightful, loving mother to an active young son and a daughter who is a dynamo of loving energy. We have a particularly close and uniquely loving relationship.
Kristen, Caroline’s daughter, came back into my life in the summer of 2009 after a long absence to my utter amazement, boundless joy, and incomparable loving delight. Mother of two adorable little girls I met for the first time a few months later, she, her husband Vince, and those two little girls have fulfilled my long-held fond dreams of reunion with buckets of tears of sheer joy.
To the various spouses and children of my children I am especially indebted and enamored. I could write pages about each of you and your spouses or significant others, but Words from the Lakeside would then take several volumes. Let it be known you are all treasures of my heart and enjoyable to be with. Sadly, our times shared together are far too few.
To the many friends I have enjoyed during each of the passages of my life I say, thanks for the memories. Though many of you from the early years have lost touch, I remember you fondly. I especially treasure the memories and renewed contact enjoyed at our fiftieth Heights High reunion in 1996. There are many friends from the forty-five years of membership in the Euclid Avenue Christian Church now in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Then there are the new friends brought into my life by moves and relationships. My membership in the Leesburg United Methodist Church brought new friends. My marriage to Barbara and the church she served, Morris Chapel United Methodist Church, brought more new and dear friends. Many of those I mentioned are close and cherished to this day.
Since the latest passage of my life has taken me to St. Augustine, I have garnered many new and close friends. I have become a member of two singing groups here, Singers by the Sea, and the St Augustine Community Chorus. These and the Socrates discussion group I joined have each brought new friendships. I am actively involved in The Florida Writers Association as well as several critique groups of writers. I am pursuing my thespian activities in a drama group at the Council on Aging. Also, at the Council on Aging I offer lectures on energy and global warming. These are all important new parts of my life.
Last, but certainly not least my lady, Daphne, brought her large family into my life as well as her circle of friends. With four daughters, two sons, and thirteen grandchildren, they are an impressive group. I feel a special bond with her children and their spouses who have each treated me with grace and warm affection. Those of her grandchildren I have had the opportunity to get to know have treated me in the same gracious manner. Each is now a vital part of my life. Her many friends have become my friends as well.
I close this dedication with a repeat of the true words with which I started.
This book is who I am, what I think, what I believe, what I imagine, what I dream of, why and whom I love . . . in short, it is a collection of bits and pieces of me—of my life. It is also a testimonial to all those beautiful human beings who, through love and some blunt trauma, helped me become the person I am. Therefore, I dedicate this book with great love and affection to all of my family and friends, those persons whose actions helped create, guide, inspire, stimulate, and mold my life into the person I am today. My passionate desire to please and never to displease them has guided me in positive directions throughout my lifetime. The family members, lovers, friends, mentors and teachers who have left this earth are greatly appreciated and sorely missed. I have been so blessed by these wonderful people and many friends and acquaintances.
PREFACE
Over the years, I have collected, written, and saved many stories, quotes, comments, letters, and poems. These include facts, ideas, thoughts, hypotheses, or theories from my mind and soul. My purpose in writing this book is to share these with others. I designed it to be a book one can pick up and read for a few minutes or for hours. Its content runs from single lines to multi-page stories, memoirs from my life. My own opinions on numerous subjects are sprinkled liberally throughout the book. Like every other human mind, I may be right or wrong. I try to think and also to write in a rational way, rather than emotional, especially about those subjects that require or could use serious, thoughtful effort. It is quite difficult to keep those emotions from breaking into even serious, rational discourse, but at least I make the effort. Things of the heart and soul, however, are tied much more to feelings and emotions. I hope the reader will feel my emotions as they have a powerful effect on this work in virtually every part of life where feelings participate.
Much of the first section of this book describes concepts that make sense to me and feelings I have personally experienced. I believe one’s personal belief system will determine their religious and political beliefs, their relationships with others, the kind of life they lead, and ultimately, the person they are at any given time. The first page has two short pieces about my personal belief systems. They describe the most significant of my guiding principles. The next page describes how I try to relate to my children, a most salient part of who I am.
My freely expressed opinions may or may not be in accord with the thinking of those who read my words. This especially includes my views on both of the no, nos of human verbal interaction, religion and politics. Because both areas can be so emotionally charged and can be quite devoid of rational thoughts, there is an opportunity to offend, bring to anger, and damage feelings. Those from many emotional persuasions will surely find themselves pricked by barbs from many directions. I am no respecter of political correctness and pride myself in being an equal-opportunity offender though it is certainly not my intent to do so.
I have much respect for the knowledge and wisdom found in the words of virtually every human being. I even include those deemed foolish and unwise by the multitudes, those whom elitists and intellectuals see as far beneath them in intellect, brainpower. This applies especially to those who populate flyover country. Genius or mentally challenged, corporate president or ditch digger, priest or sinner, person of any age, sex, culture, race, wealth or education—each of these and others have their own set of knowledge from which can be gleaned words of wisdom and truth if one listens.
I do not judge the worth of a person by any of these criteria. To do so is among the greatest faults of those who shut off all sources of knowledge and understanding that could be gained from those with whom they do not see eye to eye. It extends to even the lowliest among us. This fault is usually exhibited by political or religious elitists who refuse to be involved in communications of any kind that does not agree with or conform to their personal belief system. As a result, their inbred concepts shut out more and more good, even profound knowledge because it does not fall within the limits of their beliefs, or confirm them. This is why political correctness is the political equivalent of fundamentalist beliefs in the broad field of religion including atheism. All of these are belief systems driven by emotion, and not necessarily based in reality. Simply stated, one man’s belief is another man’s anathema.
In 1969, I gave a talk on personal communication at the American Dental Trade Association annual meeting in Chicago. The following comment is from that talk. I was using one of my own strong beliefs to illustrate the often hidden but possibly immense value of listening to what even the lowliest among us has to say.
“My measure of a man or woman is not how much they agree with me, but rather, how logical and persuasive are their arguments when they disagree. I also consider what kind of emotions play in these arguments. Do they lash out in anger with words of resentment and condemnation, or do they listen and make rational judgements?”
—Howard Johnson, from a talk on communication in 1969
Especially in the areas of human thoughts and ideas, I much prefer to choose my own belief systems based on knowledge, experience, and logical thought processes, rather than adopt those of others. This does not mean I shun the wisdom or counsel of others. It means I accept such only after checking it through my own understanding of how the universe works. That may seem crazy to some. I address the following saying to them:
Those who dance are thought insane by those who can’t hear the music.
—Angela Monet
Hopefully, you will hear and enjoy some of the music of my heart, soul, and imagination which has been liberally poured into these pages. There is one other particular quote that I find describes quite beautifully how I have tried to approach life, at least for the last fifty years. It has been attributed to a number of people including Alfred D. Souza whose name appears as the author on a cup I have had for some time. Some research I conducted attributes it to Mark Twain who preceded Souza by a hundred years. The cup displays the last four lines of the words that follow:
Work like you don't need the money.
Dance as though no one is watching you.
Love as though you have never been hurt before.
Sing as though no one can hear you.
Live as though heaven is on earth.
—Mark Twain (Samuel Clemmons)
Why I Write
I am a story teller mostly, both fiction and memoirs: fabricated and remembered. I have three finished books published and three more that will be published this year. At least I am hopeful they will be finished this year. I have five more writing projects in stages from half finished to just started. There are many more in the idea stage. My writing dreams are far too big for me to accomplish in one lifetime. That alone should help keep me young at heart and always thirsting for another day, even at my advanced age. Some time back I told everyone on my email list that I discovered I was a writer, but I didn't say why. Then I read the following words of Samuel Taylor Coleridge:
"Poetry has been to me its own exceeding great reward; it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good and beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me."
His words prompted thoughts reminding me how impossible it is for me to write all I have to say that I would like to write. Each story, thought, idea, or memory that I put into words brings forth from the depths of my mind and imagination, more stories, more thoughts, more ideas, and more memories. I am deliciously excited by writing these things. I have difficulty deserting my writing to take the time to do much else. This passion moves me so strongly that at night in bed, I often stay awake, planning how best to word this story, thought or idea.
I was an avid reader for many years devouring all kinds of literature. Once I started writingat age seventy, my reading time gave way to mostly writing time. It has been this way ever since. To me, writing is so much more rewarding. Certainly I would like my words to be read, but my main pleasure lies in the writing. I would write even if I knew no one would ever read my words.
So think about writing. If there is a story or memory in you, give it the wings of the written word. Who knows how many others you may touch.
—Howard Johnson, 2011
Section I - Quotes, Comments, Letters, and Poetry
This section is from my private store of quotes, comments, and poems. Authors of quotes are acknowledged if known. HJ indicates my own writing.
I believe there are no more fitting words with which to begin this work than those of Saint Francis of Assisi. They have been a guiding light for many decent lives and a beacon of peace and love for centuries.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much
seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
—Saint Francis of Assisi
Hold yourself responsible for a higher standard than anybody expects of you. Never excuse yourself. Never pity yourself. Be a hard taskmaster to yourself and be lenient with everybody else.
—Henry Ward Beecher
Truth and Belief
When truth and belief come to conflict,
it is better to change one’s belief to fit the truth
than to change the truth to fit one’s belief.
Beliefs are the creations of men
while Truths are the creations of God!
—HJ, July 7, 1986
New Serenity Prayer
Lord, grant me . . .
The serenity
to accept that there are those things I will not know,
The comfort
of reasonable beliefs to fill these voids of knowledge,
The courage
to change these beliefs when truth so dictates, and
The wisdom
to know the difference between belief and truth.
—as modified by HJ, March 1999
It makes no sense, but to the easily led masses, Getting even seems preferable to the status quo even when those who do so know they are certain to be rewarded with severe loss, pain, or even death. They become one of Eric Hoffer’s True Believers.
—from, Energy, Convenient Solutions II by HJ, 2012
To all my dearly beloved children
Your kind of father? I think only maybe. I will always try to be the best I can be for you while remaining my own kind of man. As a father, my kind of man will always try to realize his children are not his possessions, but are growing, separate human beings with their own lives to lead. He is, therefore, responsible for doing the best job he can to teach his children how to cope with the world. He does not have the right to impose his own will on them, but must protect them from danger. He must not be a pal, a dictator, a friend, a slave, or a slave-master to his children. Yet as occasions and situations dictate, he must be each of these and still more.
His relationship must be multidirectional and fluid in all respects. As the child grows, he must constantly adjust to the proper degree of control for both the child’s education and protection. He must have the strength to let his charges be hurt so they learn some cautions are in order. He must carefully protect and gauge the amount of hurt to be allowed to both the child’s age and constitution.
Likewise, in life’s decisions he must grant more and more autonomy as the child gains the experience to handle it. He must maintain a benevolent dictatorship until his charges are on their own. Democracy is suitable for a nation or group of adult equals, but it is a disaster in a family of growing children. He must also recognize it is best to loosen the reigns too early than too late since this teaches the child responsibility for his or her actions. Above all, he must know love is not possession, but sharing.
A wise man was asked how to hold love, to which he replied, “Like a small bird in the hand. Hold it too tightly and it dies; hold it too loosely and it flies away.”
I know not how you view your father now, but when you are a full person at whatever age, invite me into your life as you would a friend. If it comes to pass in a comfortable and loving fashion, I will have been the father I intended to be.
—HJ, 1965
The judgements of men are formed not from facts as they are, but as they wish them to be. They root through tons of good wheat to find three pieces of chaff if the chaff lends weight to their beliefs and argument. It is not that they want others to know the truth, but to have those others believe as they do. Beyond this, they do not care. The conceit of man ordinarily forms his criterion of truth.
—Anonymous
The best things are the most difficult
—Dartnell
To my dearly beloved grandchildren
Your kind of grandfather? Well, maybe! I wrote the previous message to your parents. Now it’s your turn. Being a grandfather is a different experience and challenge. There is no choice, little direct responsibility, some commitment and yet, still more mixed blessings. Also, there is far more good than bad. For me, one of the hardest and most necessary things to do is to keep my mouth shut when I feel like spouting volumes, at least during the years before your maturity and independence. I hereby give notice, once you’ve left the nest and become fully adult, I no longer feel constrained and will freely share opinions about most everything. I urge you to pore through this book, Memoirs from the Lakeside, or my earlier similar book, Words from the Lakeside, in which this letter appears. There is far more of whom I am in these books than I could include in any letter.
Note especially those words which urge you to be independent, self-reliant, your own person, and to make your own way in life. Don’t be a second edition of anyone; be who you are. The comfortable nest, once abandoned, can never be regained. Make your own nest where and when you choose. The silver umbilical cord must be discarded, or you and your parents will never share an adult relationship. I take great pleasure in my relationship with your parents. It is one independent human with another. I would only hope you will some day enjoy the same kind of unfettered relationship with your parents and, of course, with your grandfather.
My maternal grandfather, Granddad Dick (for Dickinson) was a marvelous companion and teacher for me when I was small. We spent many hours together, often fishing as described in one of the stories. One incident when I was quite young, six or seven probably, had a lasting and positive effect on my life. He and grandma were at our house for dinner, and mom was serving stewed turnips. When they were passed my way, I turned up my nose announcing, “I hate stewed turnips.”
Granddad turned to me and said, “Howard, you should never say you hate anything. Say, ‘I love stewed turnips,’ and you’d be surprised how good they taste. It works Howard. Try it.”
That won’t work, I thought to myself, but since I held my granddad in such respect, and even awe, I decided to try it. I then bravely announced, “I love stewed turnips” while smiling at Granddad and at the same time helping myself to a large spoonful of turnips.
I could hardly believe it. They tasted delicious! I looked at Granddad and announced incredulously, “I do love stewed turnips.”
“You see?” Granddads said smiling knowingly. “It does work, like I said it would.”
To this day I love stewed turnips and a whole lot of other things I tried the same trick on. I have always believed my grandfather’s dinner table lesson is the reason why I like so many foods to this day. There is almost nothing I am served I don’t eat with relish—if it is well prepared.
This carried over onto all parts of my life, enforced by my natural tendency to go against the crowd—to resist peer pressure. Many boys repeat the mantra, I hate school, and then feel bound to prove it. I went against strong peer pressure saying repeatedly, “I love school.”
Well, guess what? I always loved school and learning. There is no doubt in my mind I have used this principle to good effect on many other situations in my life. It is a powerful motivational force. I suggest you try it. No, don’t try it, DO IT!
There are several memoirs in this book about Granddad Dick. You may gain some valuable insight from these stories from a man who taught me many worthwhile lessons about life. He was your great-great-granddad so you carry some of his genes.
To the youngest and the next generation, even though you don’t know me or maybe never even met me, I will live on in the pages of this book as long as there are those who read it. Hopefully someone in the family will give you a copy. It’s the legacy I am leaving for you. My hope is it will live on long after I’m gone.
—HJ 2009
He who knows not and knows not that he knows not is a fool.
Shun him!
He who knows not and knows that he knows not is a child.
Teach him!
He who knows, and knows not that he knows is blind.
Lead him!
He who knows and knows that he knows is wise.
Follow him!
—Many versions and sources, Persian saying, Sanscrit, Confucius
Time goes, you say? ... ... ... ... Ah no! Alas, Time stays, we go.
— Henry Austin Dobson
Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.
—John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton
I found solace in nursing a pervasive sense of grievance and animosity against my mother’s race. There was something about her that made me wary, a little too sure of herself, maybe and white.
—From Dreams of my Father - Barack Hussein Obama
Enigma
We place the pieces in the puzzle randomly,
Fitting each together with the one before it.
One doesn’t fit. It is taken out,
Turned around. Replaced,
Only to find that it doesn’t fit again.
Can the pieces be altered?
Or the puzzle changed?
Or is the only solution in
Putting the pieces into a different maze?
—Deb Archer to her father, HJ, 1972
Epilog to Enigma
The puzzle is nearly complete. The picture almost whole.
Only a few random spaces remain.
Too many pieces are left over and none of them fit
And we keep finding more pieces
And more pieces and still more pieces!
Another puzzle? Another picture?
More pieces, more puzzles, more pictures!
The puzzles that were wholes
Become pieces, small random pieces
That seem to fit still greater puzzles.
We find more puzzles that are pieces
And few fit . . . and the enigma starts over . . .
Full cycle . . . at another level . . . ?
—Reply to “Enigma” sent to Deb Archer by her father, HJ, 1972
Remembering Easter Sunday, 1945 - 67 years ago today
I awakened early to what was to be a busy day. It was still dark, but the birds were announcing the day was about to begin. The first thing on my schedule was the big, downtown sunrise service at the Cleveland Public Auditorium. The Cleveland Heights High a capella choir was to sing, and I was in the second tenor section. The service was to begin at 6:30 and we were to be there no later than 6:00. I was granted the use of the family car as my parents were to be taken to our church services by some church members who were also neighbors. That meant I would have to leave home by about five in order to have time to pick up a couple of other choir members, get downtown, park, and walk to the auditorium by 6:00.
I would have picked up my steady girl, Dolores, who also sang in the choir, but her parents were attending the service and she was to go with them. The drive downtown was brightened by the clear, blue sky of a warm and gorgeous spring day. Daffodils and narcissi were blooming everywhere. Even a few early tulips were showing off their colors. One spectacular passage, Cedar Hill, was down a small gorge through the Euclid Escarpment. It was ablaze with bright yellow forsythia clinging to the sides of the gorge. The air was filled with the fresh fragrance of spring. I don’t remember, but I know the birds were singing their hearts out as we drove down town.
We parked the car, walked to the auditorium, and to our dressing room in good time. After we donned our choir robes, I had the chance to talk to my sweetie. We made arrangements to meet with her and her parents when the performance was over. Soon Strick, our choir director, George F. Strickling, lined us up for a warm up before our stage entrance. I don’t remember much about the concert, or even any of the songs we sang. As a teen, deeply in love, I was probably too busy trying to catch Dee’s eye while we were singing. From my position in the back row on the extreme left of the semicircular arrangement of the choir, I was in her line-of-sight from where she stood in the first row on the extreme right.
I was to meet Dee and her folks after we finished and changed back into our Easter finery. We were to meet outside the side entrance. We actually ended up meeting in the hallway on our way out. One look at her in her Easter outfit and I was overwhelmed. Her bright yellow dress was set off by a spectacular, dark blue, wide-brimmed, straw hat. She was positively the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and she was my girl. I couldn’t get over looking at her. To use some of today’s vernacular, she was drop-dead gorgeous. To make it even better, we were about to walk up Euclid Avenue in Cleveland’s Easter Parade, me, walking with the most beautiful girl in the world. I was walking on air, proud as a young man could possibly be.
The aura of her in that gorgeous yellow dress and that spectacular hat, spun a magic spell that held me all day long. I cannot remember another thing about the middle of that day other than watching her. After her folks headed for home, Dee joined me while I took my two passengers home. Soon after we dropped the second one off, Dee carefully removed her hat as I pulled to the curb. Soon we were wrapped in an embrace and a lingering kiss. We just couldn’t wait until we could park in front of her house. I remember later events clearly, sitting with her in front of 2705 Saybrook Road, sharing tender love words, and kiss after kiss until she had to go inside. Tomorrow was a school day and her curfew was 10:00.
As I drove home down Meadowbrook Boulevard, visions of the days events flashed through my mind. I was totally and deliriously in the grasp of young love, and loving every minute of it. All I could think was, how could I possibly be so lucky?
—HJ - Easter Sunday, 2012
Sunrises and Related Experiences
I don’t remember my first magical sunrise experience as a single one, but rather a series of many over time that morphed into a mingled memory. My merged memory was certainly of fishing trips with my father and possibly my grandfather as well, over a number of different times. It was on Tippecanoe Lake in Indiana during repeated early morning fishing trips. These trips happened frequently during warm, lazy summer mornings starting when I was as young as five.
The scene before my wide expectant eyes is emblazoned on my memory like a motion picture or video. I see the pervasive grayness of a misty or foggy first light over the mirror smooth waters of the lake. The ghostly, barely visible black of forest trees at the water’s edge is outlined by the pale first light of approaching dawn. The stillness, the cool dampness, the relative quiet save the voices of awakening birds, was intoxicating. I can see the gentle bow wave, hear the rhythmic splashes of the oars in time with the slow surging of our small rowboat as I feel my father’s repeated strong pull and return of the oars. I can sense the boat reaching for a favorite fishing place as I peer from my perch on the front seat.
The unmistakable cry of a loon adds an almost mystical aura to the serene scene. The quiet magic is soon broken by the raucous crow of a rooster, then the barking of a far away dog. As we move past Pierce’s Point toward the wider expanse of the east end of the lake, even the shadowy ghosts of the forest trees at the shore on our left fade into the grayness and disappear. We glide in silence over the shimmering surface, making a V of small waves. The oars create pairs of expanding circles of waves punctuated by sets of small whirlpools on each side. These regularly spaced disturbances reach off behind the boat in parallel rows, dissipating slowly as they fade away stretching out behind the boat and into the smooth surface.
A sudden splash gives evidence of hungry fish as they chase minnows at the surface. After nearly an hour rowing to the best fishing spot, my father peers deep into the clear water to watch for the sight of ghostly green water weeds barely visible in the depths. When he spots the first of the weeds, he reverses the oars and backs the boat a few lengths into slightly deeper water, there to drop the anchors. He lifts the length of concrete filled two inch pipe serving as the front anchor, checks to see if I have a secure hold on the rope and am prepared before he lets it go. I control the rope until it reaches the bottom, then snub the rope and wind it around the front davit. Meanwhile, he places and secures the rear anchor.
About this time, a bit of gold showing through the fog announces to the world the sun is winning its morning battle with the fog. Directly overhead the center of the dome of gray is slowly turning blue.
The repeated barking of dogs, the voices of children, and other morning sounds carry crisply across the still waters, announcing to us and the world that people ashore are starting their day. The gray dawn fog is no longer. A brilliant sun rises higher in a clear blue sky and takes control. A slight breeze begins ruffling the satin smooth surface of the lake. All the activities of a summer day on the lake are about to burst forth. As water activities liven the lake, I know our fishing trip will soon be over.
I can recall many similar dawns, stretching back to the time before memories. I hope to enjoy many more dawns of different kinds over many years to come. I love dawns and sunrises. The pastel, reserved and quiet colors of sunrise are so different from the bold displays of sunsets. In similar fashion, there are vast differences in lake activities between the quiet mornings and the busy afternoons and evenings with all types of water activities in full swing. Pale sunrise colors are in stark contrast to the bright pinks, brilliant oranges, and deep crimson colors of sunsets as are displayed on the cover of this book.
Another memorable sunrise, a specific single event, happened in the summer of 1943. My sister, Bobbie, and I worked at the same Howard Johnson restaurant in Shaker Heights, Ohio. At twenty-one, she was a waitress and could serve drinks from the bar. I started as a bus boy, then graduated to the ice cream, counter, and finally to the sandwich table where I learned all manner of sandwich building from hamburgers and BLTs to westerns and clubs.
Frequently I rode the four miles to work on my bicycle with my sister seated on the cross bar. We kept to the side streets rather than chance busy Lee Road with all its traffic. One late Saturday night—actually early Sunday morning after closing and after we had performed all of our clean up chores—we headed for home on my bike. First light was beginning to show in the east as we wound through deserted side streets. By the time we reached the dam on the upper Shaker Lake, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. Enthralled by such a gorgeous setting, we stopped, got off of the bike, sat on the grass, and watched the sunrise. We sat—and talked—and marveled—and drank in all the magical sights, sounds, smells, and other sensations of an awakening and thoroughly fascinating world. I clearly remember a robin perched on a high branch, giving voice to his morning song with great enthusiasm. We must have stayed there mesmerized for half an hour or more. Then reality snapped down on me. I had a hundred plus Sunday papers to deliver before breakfast and getting ready for church. I don’t remember for sure, but I think Bobbie helped me with my Sunday paper route.
Another magical dawn, also at Lake Tippecanoe, happened in late October of 1945, before I entered Purdue University. I am fascinated by wildness and go to wild places whenever I can. The swamp and woods at the east end of the lake, near where my first recounting of sunrises occurred, was the wildest place I could get to easily. For more than a week I lived on my own, off of the land in the high ground woods and the nearly dry swamp in an area of several hundred acres. I packed an arctic sleeping bag, a boy scout cooking kit, a few utensils, matches, some crackers, salt, and butter. On my belt was a hand ax and a sheath knife. In my jacket I had my emergency rations, a large bag of peanuts and several Baby Ruth candy bars. I dumped everything into the same little boat used in the first sunrise story. It now sported a tiny outboard that powered it as I headed for my adventure in the wild.
Living off of the land is another story for another time, but I learned about finding and cooking edible water plants, mostly their roots. An accomplished fisherman, I had no trouble getting adequate protein from the fish I caught with my tiny pole and hand line. About the fourth night, a fierce fall storm blew in from the northwest. I was prepared, or thought so. I located my camp for the night on the eastern side of the high ground. Knowing a storm was coming, I picked a spot of dry sloping ground with good drainage. It was beside the downed trunk of a large tree. I spread my waterproof ground cloth and rolled my sleeping bag out, the head almost against the tree trunk. I rigged the rain guard over the head of the sleeping bag before fixing my supper.
The first blast of wind and rain hit suddenly, before I finished cleaning up from supper. I scurried inside my sleeping bag putting my boots under the rain guard near my head. I was wet, but not soaked. From beneath the rain guard I saw my view of the woods to the east disappear in a fury of wind, water, and leaves. I knew I was in for a rough night. Branches of different sizes fell all around me. The woods to the west gave some protection, but in return contributed hazardous missiles in the form of wind-blown branches and pieces of branches. After the first furious blast of wind, the storm slowly died down. By this time, my sleeping bag was covered with leaves and wood debris. Fortunately, though several large branches crashed down nearby, none of them hit me. After the violent storm front passed, it was followed by steady rain. The sound of the rain lulled me to sleep, probably around eight or nine.
I awoke suddenly, a bit wet and cold. My rain guard gone, I was looking at a clear, starry sky overhead. I found the rain guard draped over the log above my head. The pegs holding it had pulled out of the now soaked ground when a swirl of wind had flipped it over the log as I slept. It was cold, probably below freezing, but I was still warm inside my now damp sleeping bag. I checked on my spare clothes, mostly socks and underwear, wrapped in a towel inside the foot of the sleeping bag. I was happy to find my feet, socks, and all my clothes were quite dry. I decided to stay put until daylight.
First light of a clear, crisp October day crept slowly through the trees to the east. I watched the telltale pale blue sky turn pink, then orange, then yellow, all pastels. Then a sparkle of sunlight burst through the forest. The billions of insects silenced weeks before by the first frost left the woods deathly still. An occasional bird call gave some comfort. Then the raucous quacking of a nearby flock of ducks rent the silence. A scuffling sound startled me as a squirrel ran frantically past a few feet away. Hot on the squirrel’s trail was a black fisher intent on making the squirrel its next meal. The world was awake to a new day.
A favorite James Whitcomb Riley quote describes the scene, “Suns and skies and clouds of June, and flowers of June together, you cannot rival for one hour, October’s bright blue weather.” This would prove to be just such a day.
It was December of 1955 when my wife, Dolores, and I together with our daughter, Deb, five, and son, Mike, two, were camping in the Florida Keys in our new Plymouth station wagon. We were in Bahia Honda State Park camped right at the shore. Deb was sleeping in the front seat while Mike and Dee were in the back of the wagon on a twin sized mattress. I was outside in a sleeping bag atop an air mattress on the ground near the car. It was quite cold, probably near forty, when I woke up to an early beginning dawn. Not yet prepared to get out of the warmth of the sleeping bag and face the day, I repositioned my body, so I could watch the sun rise over the Florida Straight. As it grew lighter, the scene appeared virtually colorless. The water and the fog above the water blended seamlessly into the gray of a haze-filled sky. Water, haze, and sky were all the same brightening gray with a slight blue cast. When the sun began to burn through the haze, it was colorless as well, virtually white against the gray.
The only sound early was of the waves lapping against the seawall. As the dawn light brightened, sea gulls began calling as they flew overhead. The world was waking up. The full sun was shining silvery through breaks in the clouds. Still the scene was almost colorless. The haze gave way to a bright, crisp, cool, colorful day with blue sky and white pillows of clouds drifting past green trees and above a blue and white ocean. I pulled my clothes on and ventured out of the sleeping bag. It wasn’t long before I had a fire going to warm my hands and later cook our breakfast. By the time I had baited and cast our fishing lines out into the water hoping to catch mangrove snapper, my crew began tumbling out of the car. Today would be a new adventure for our little family from far away Ohio.
It was 1981, and I was on the beach of Grande Isle about ten miles out from Olongapo in the Philippines. I had sailed out to this R&R island on a Hobie 16 with Jingo, the Lieutenant Commander and XO of the US Carrier Coral Sea. We had with us the bathing suits and boat shoes we were wearing, two large beach towels, a waterproof bag containing our billfolds, socks, and a few pocket items, and a fifth of Chivas Regal provided by the XO. We spent the day exploring the island where we found the remains of the American fort built after the Spanish American war. We climbed over two long six inch guns still mounted in their emplacements and dated 1906. When finally we stumbled out of the forest into the beach area, we were tired, hungry and a bit woozy from the portion of scotch no longer in the bottle.
We stopped at the beach restaurant and had a hearty meal, the contents of which I have no memory. When we had finished our meal, and much of the remaining scotch, we were in no condition to sail the fifteen miles back to the mainland. It was either take the motor launch back and return in the morning for the Hobie, or sleep on the beach. There are no sleeping quarters on the island, and everyone including workers are supposed to leave for the naval base on the last launch at 11:30pm. With the only option being sleeping on the beach during a warm Philippine night, we said in unison, “The beach.”
We had to sneak off and find a comfortable place to hide from the Shore Patrol who searched for and herded the last stragglers onto the launch. They paid no attention to the bright white sailboat pulled up on the sandy beach not far from the pier where the launch tied up. After the launch had pulled away, we found a smooth area of soft sand, spread our beach towels out, polished off the remaining scotch, and promptly fell asleep.
Very early the next morning, Jingo woke me and said, “Do you hear that noise? Something’s on the beach, and I think it’s coming toward us.”
At first I couldn’t hear a thing. Then I heard it, a soft, scraping sound as if something was being dragged across the sand in short spurts, scrape - scrape - scrape.
“Yea, I hear it, but you can’t see a damned thing on this beach on a moonless night. What do you suppose it is?”
“Are there salt water crocodiles around here? I’ve heard they come out of the water at night and eat people.”
“Thanks a lot, Jingo. That’s a comforting thought. I’ve not heard anyone mention crocs. Lots about pythons, monkeys and wild pigs, but no mention of crocs.”
The rhythmic sound continued and seemed to be coming closer. With no flashlight or matches, we were locked in place by the blackness. We couldn’t even see to move our sleeping quarters. Unable to see our watches, we had no idea what time it was.
“I seem to remember crocs have excellent night vision.”
“Damn, Jingo, That’s encouraging. You really know how to cheer a fellow up.”
“Let’s be prepared to run. Both of us in the same direction toward the water. Don’t head up the beach or we could run into those trees we passed on our way here.”
In fun, I said, “I can see the headlines now, ‘Two Americans disappear from Grande Island. Local authorities suspect crocs got them.’ I wonder if they’ll send out a rescue party?”
“Now who’s telling the scary stuff?”
“Shit! There are no crocs out here. They’re all in Australia.” As I finished my tease, I noticed the sky in the east was barely starting to show light. “Look! It’s morning and will be light soon. You know how quickly the sun rises in the tropics.”
It can’t be too soon for me.” Jingo said.
As he spoke the sound changed. Each scrape was now accompanied by a rustling sound like papers being ruffled about, and it was quite close by.
“What in the hell is making that noise?” I said sharply.
“I don’t know, but it is definitely quite close. Damn I wish I could see.”
In the pinking blue light of a rapidly expanding dawn, faint silhouettes of shapes were becoming visible. Before long we could see those indistinct shapes on the beach more clearly. Then we both saw something move a few feet away. It became obvious the rustling sound was caused by a creature moving through the dried palm fronds littering the sand near the tree line. Whatever it was, it was not a crocodile. It was oval shaped and about three feet long. In the rapidly increasing light, we saw and recognized a huge sea turtle moving away from the water.
“That damned critter must be mixed up. It shouldn’t be heading away from the water at this time. It will dry up and die in the heat of the day,” Jingo remarked. “Let’s carry her back to the water. She must have gotten turned around in the dark on her way back from laying eggs.”
It turned out to be a monumental task. I have no idea how much it weighed, but we couldn’t lift it, especially with amazingly powerful legs and flippers flailing away. We managed to turn it around and head it toward the water. We watched for nearly an hour as the exhausted critter flopped its way down the beach and into the safety of the sea. During its journey, we watched the pinkish, sea-gray dawn morph into a bright, clear, sunny day. We stayed out of sight while the first launch arrived, then picked up our belongings and headed for the restaurant to fill our empty, growling stomachs. No, we were not hung over, the advantage of drinking high quality scotch over an entire day. The sail back to Subic was fast and fun now that we could see where we were going.
How to Find a Wife
I had been single for nearly fifteen years after a short, disastrous second marriage. It had been a serious mistake from the day we spoke our vows. Past sixty, I was happy living alone on a lake in Northern Indiana. A year before, I had broken up with a wonderful lady after a five-year relationship. We discussed marriage, but when she was ready, I wasn’t, and when I was ready, she wasn’t. We remained dear friends even after we broke off our relationship. Perfectly happy living alone, I rarely experienced feelings of loneliness. With many friends, I attended the nearby Leesburg United Methodist Church regularly, and sang in the choir. Living alone and being lonely are very different things. I certainly enjoy being among people, but have also experienced many pleasant and quite comfortable times being alone. A few times I had felt the terrible loneliness that sometimes strikes one among people, even in a crowd.
One morning, early in July, I sauntered into the offices of The Paper in the nearby town of Milford. I was there to place an ad for a salesman for the personal computer business I had started a few months before. A scruffy-looking man of about thirty stood at the counter talking to a lady I assumed to be an ad taker. He wrestled a crumpled scrap of lined yellow paper from his pocket, carefully flattened it on the counter, and spread a crumpled five-dollar bill atop the yellow paper. Paying no attention to their conversation, I waited until the lady behind the counter turned to me when the young man left.
She smiled as she spoke, “Can I help you?”
I unfolded the ad copy produced on my computer and handed it to her. “I’d like to place this ad for a computer salesman.”
“If you’ll wait a few moments, I’ll have a want-ad taker speak to you.”
I was a bit mystified. “Aren’t you an ad taker? What was the bit with the guy who spoke to you?”
She laughed, “I run the singles column. He was giving me his requirements for a lady friend. Hang on a sec. I’ll get someone for you.”
“Wait a minute. Tell me about it,” I sputtered as she turned to go. After all, I was single and unencumbered. I wanted to know what it was all about.
She turned and grabbed a paper from a stack behind the counter. Shuffling through until she found the right page, she spread it out on the counter in front of me. “Here’s last week’s column. You can get an idea by looking at these. Do you think you might want to place an ad?”
After skimming through the ads I commented, “I’ve never even considered anything like this. How does it work?”
“As you can see, there are no addresses or phone numbers in the ads. We provide a PO box number here at the bottom of the page. An interested party simply sends a letter to that PO box with the ID number in the ad. You come and pick up those letters, and then it’s up to you. The usual first meeting place is a restaurant or other safe public place. We suggest a lunch as the first meeting. Then if you both want to pursue further contact, a date can be set.”
“That seems simple enough.”
“This month we’re having a promotional special, two weekly ads for five dollars.”
My curiosity was instantly piqued. “I think I’ll take you up on your special.” I then wrote out the following brief ad:
D/W/M, 62, 5'10", self-employed computer engineer/scientist/poet. I love the outdoors, sailing, fishing, waterskiing, biking, fall colors, fresh snow, the smell of spring, moonlight on the water, singing, and my large, loving family. I’d like to share an active life with a like-minded, independent woman. I’m not looking for a subordinate. Write Single No. 5653 in care of The Paper.
After paying my five dollars and also placing my ad for a salesman to the correct person, I headed for home wondering what this momentary lapse in my usual conservative nature would bring.
About two weeks later, I picked up more than thirty letters, to be followed several weeks later by another bundle of nearly thirty more. I couldn’t believe there would be so many responses to an old coot. They had a wide range of both quality and content. One was written on a single page of lined paper, in pencil, with terrible grammar, and many misspelled words. The other extreme was one of two pages, impeccably composed with near-perfect grammar and spelling, and in beautiful handwriting. The engineer in me prompted the organization of the letters, rating them from one to ten based on my impressions of the writers. Naturally, I started at the top of the list with the only one that rated above an eight. Here is the text of that letter:
July 18, 1990
Hi,
I’m Barbara. I’m a forty-nine-year-young legal secretary who’s still going to school. Just finished my first of two years at IUSB in the paralegal program.
My first love has to be music (big band) and ballroom dancing. I do enjoy light classical, and I sing in my church choir.
I’m a nature lover beyond a doubt and especially enjoy listening to and watching the birds at my feeder. Needless to say, I love flowers and have them everywhere, especially those that will attract God’s critters! I look forward to being out of doors as much as is possible. And really enjoy camping and don’t do enough traveling! Being near or on the water gives me my tranquility.
I enjoy gourmet cooking (and preparing and eating it). I like to try new dishes and make dining an experience rather than just something one must do.
To sum up, I’m an incurable romantic and a cockeyed optimist! I have blond hair (with some silver for highlight, of course) and blue eyes. I’m 4' 11 ½” tall and weigh 107 lbs., and I meet life head-on!
If you think we might have some things in common and could be friends, I can be reached at 848-5780.
When I called the writer of this letter, her mother answered and said that Barbara was out. I gave her my name and phone number and asked her to return my call. I continued down the list until I made several dates for lunch. As a result, I met several ladies resulting in a number of interesting experiences. The first was a quite timid, longtime secretary, several years younger than I. She spoke meekly when I could get her to speak. Tall and slender, she was pleasant but had never married and was definitely not my type.
The next lady was the opposite. By the time we finished lunch, she was planning our winters in Arizona. About sixty, this farmer’s widow was small, muscular, and sported a blonde beehive hairdo that added at least four inches to her height and could probably have withstood a tornado. Her years on the farm showed in her local speech idioms and calloused hands. She was a formidable presence despite her diminutive size. That lunch was our first and last contact.
I then met a pleasant, plump, attractive lady almost my age. Her clothes, the car she drove, and her general demeanor showed at least the trappings of wealth. It soon was apparent to me that she was lonely and still seriously mourned her husband who died a few years earlier. Near the end of our lunch, I realized how vulnerable she was and became concerned she might fall prey to an unscrupulous man after her money. I asked if she was active in a church or other women’s group.
Her negative response prompted these words I recall exactly, “To me, you seem a pleasant but vulnerable lady. I don’t think you are ready for the dating game. Why don’t you join a church or other organization and become active with a group of women? When you feel secure in the fellowship of those women, then you might reconsider entering the dating game.”
Nearly a year later, I received a phone call from her. She said my words had been some of the best advice she’d ever received and thanked me repeatedly. She had done what I suggested and was now active in a group of church women who had become dear friends. “I don’t know if I’ll ever look for a man again, but thanks to your advice, my life is now much fuller and more rewarding.” That was a marvelous reward for speaking to a near stranger of a genuine concern.
During this time, Barbara, the lady with the letter I placed atop my list, had been playing phone tag with me. I discovered later that, during that time, she was in the hospital having sinus surgery. It was mid-August before we connected after exchanging many phone calls for at least three weeks. We set a Sunday afternoon dinner date at the Holiday Inn in Goshen. I arrived before the appointed time and waited in the lobby. After waiting and waiting and waiting, I was wondering if I had been stood up. About half an hour after I arrived, a young lady came over from the check-in counter.
“I hope this is not a prank, but would you happen to be Howard Johnson?”
When I replied in the affirmative, she said, “There’s a lady on the phone who wants to speak to you.” The ensuing phone conversation went something like this:
“Hello?”
“How’s your patience quotient? I’m terribly sorry, but I got lost. I’m calling you from a filling station in New Paris.”
New Paris is eight or ten miles from where I was waiting. “How’d you end up in New Paris? That’s not even near US 33.”
“I’m not familiar with Goshen and must have taken the wrong road.”
I laughed. “You probably went straight where US 33 turns left. That’s why you ended up on Indiana 15.”
“How far away am I?”
“My guess is about ten or twelve miles.”
“I’m so sorry. It will take at least twenty minutes to get there. Do you want to cancel?”
“No, I’ve plenty of time. Come on over.” I then gave her directions to the Holiday Inn and sat down to wait.
Nearly a half hour later, a diminutive female walked swiftly and with determination across the parking lot and into the lobby. I knew it was Barbara as soon as she stepped out of her car.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” she said as soon as we met. “You must be a patient and understanding man.”
After our introductory conversation, we entered the nearly deserted dining room and sat down for dinner. I don’t remember much of the conversation, but we hit it off right away and our dinner stretched out for several hours. We were definitely kindred souls, delighting in each other’s company. We parted reluctantly after making arrangements to see each other again.
During the next few years, we were frequent companions and met each other’s families and friends. Barbara soon started attending the Leesburg UM Church with me, joining me in the choir. We became deeply committed to each other. Friendship Sunday at church, in October of 1992, I stood up in the choir loft during the “Joys and Concerns” part of the service. After a short preamble, I bravely uttered the words, “I would like to ask the little lady seated in front of me if she will marry me.”
No one including the minister, my friends, or Barb knew this was coming. Don Shanks, our pleasant but often tongue-twisted minister, blurted out, “I don’t know if this is a joy or a concern.” Turning to Barb he added, “Is there an answer?”
Caught a bit off guard, Barb replied, “What could I say In front of all these people but yes.”
With her reply, the entire congregation applauded.
Wallace Huffman, a member of the congregation, was videotaping the service that Sunday and captured the entire thing, including the proposal and acceptance. The following May 29, 1993, we were married in an unusually emotional ceremony fashioned after the Quaker wedding of my grand niece, Deanna, that we experienced and loved a few months before. Another member of the church videotaped our wedding, and, in cooperation with Wally, presented us with a tape of both events as a wedding present. In the years since then, we have often viewed that video and relived those delight filled moments.
____________________________________________________
From the text on the back of the book:
This collection of mostly SciFi stories is taken partially from the collection, Words from the Lakeside, recently released by the author. There are a number of new stories included as well. Howard Johnson says, “Hard science fiction is basically all fictional writing that uses extrapolation of real science—or actual science and technology expanded by the writer’s vision—as far into the future, or past, as his or her creative imagination can take us. It is based on what we can imagine technology of the future to be. Jules Verne was a pioneer in this type of fiction. Look at all the things he imagined that have actually come to pass.
“Several of these stories deal with not only our own advanced technology, but with that of alien species from other worlds, other galaxies, even other universes. Yet all stories deal with mostly very human foibles, problems, interactions with others, sometimes even alien intelligent species. Many of the settings are on other planets where things like the atmosphere, gravity, the native flora and fauna, can be quite different from here on our small planet. While many of the writers of science fiction are scientists, enjoyable SciFi stories should be written so those not based in the sciences can understand and enjoy the action. Much of what we use every day would have been far out science fiction 50, 30, or even 20 years ago, the iphone for example. For instance, when I was young, I knew man would some day go to the moon. I never dreamed then that it would be in my lifetime.”
Excerpts:
DEDICATION
I DEDICATE THIS COLLECTION TO ALL OF THOSE WITH VIVID AND UNLIMITED IMAGINATIONS, AND ESPECIALLY THOSE WHOSE MINDS ARE LIMITED ONLY BY THE POSSIBLE REALITIES OF EXTRAPOLATED SCIENCE.
I ESPECIALLY APPRECIATE THE WORKS OF JULES VERNE AND ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WHOSE WRITINGS FIRST TURNED ME ONTO THE POSSIBILITIES OF THOUGHTS AND IDEAS UNFETTERED BY REALITY YET STILL CONCEIVABLE AND SCIENTIFICALLY POSSIBLE.
PREFACE
Most of what I write when I write fiction, is hard science fiction. Hard science fiction is that written which is limited to scientific possibilities—extrapolative science—the unknown technologies of the future. It is quite the opposite of fantasy which has no limits, and uses magic and the stuff of mythology, defying natural laws. If it is inconceivable by natural laws, those of physics, math and chemistry, it is not hard science fiction. Of course, those limits are sometimes stretched a bit as it is fiction we are writing.
I am no respecter of political correctness which I see as use of peer pressure by a few elitists trying to control the many, the common folk. I pride myself on being an equal-opportunity supporter or offender though it is not my actual intent to offend anyone. I have great respect for wisdom that can be found in the words of virtually every human being. I include those deemed foolish and unwise by the nose-in-the-air, European style, intellectual elitists who see so many individuals as far beneath them in intellectual capacity. They are especially disdainful of those who populate flyover country. Genius or mentally challenged, corporate president or ditch digger, priest or sinner, politician or honorable person, regardless of age, sex, wealth or education, each of these and all others including media personalities, have their own sets of knowledge from which can be gleaned words of wisdom and truth if one truly listens and considers the agenda of the individual or group. I have low tolerance of those with closed minds, regardless of their particular persuasion.
I do not judge the worth of a person by any of these criteria. To do so I see as among the greatest faults of those who shut off all sources of knowledge and understanding that could be gained from those with whom we do not see eye-to-eye. It extends to the lowliest among us. This fault is usually exhibited by political or religious elitists who refuse to be involved in communications of any kind that does not agree with or conform to their personal belief system. As a result, their inbred concepts shut out more and more good, even profound knowledge because it does not fall within the limits of their beliefs, or confirm them. This is why I see political correctness as the political equivalent of fundamentalist beliefs in the broad field of religion including atheism. All of these are belief systems driven by emotion, and not necessarily based in reality. Simply stated, one man’s belief is another man’s anathema.
In 1969 I gave a talk on personal communication at the American Dental Trade Association annual meeting in Chicago. The following comment is from that talk. I was using one of my own strong beliefs to illustrate the often hidden but possibly immense value of listening to what even the lowliest among us has to say.
“My measure of a man or woman is not how much they agree with me, but rather, how logical and persuasive are their arguments when they disagree. I also consider the agenda promoted by their particular belief system and what kinds of emotions play in these arguments. Do they repeat the mantra of one of the isms, (following the follower) or does their position come from their own inner thoughts? Do they lash out emotionally in anger with words of resentment and condemnation, or do they listen, really listen, and make rational judgements?”
—Howard Johnson, from a talk on communication in 1969
Especially in the areas of human thoughts and ideas, I much prefer to choose my own belief systems based on knowledge, experience, and logical thought processes, rather than adopt those of others. This does not mean I shun the wisdom or counsel of others. It means I accept such comments only after checking them through my own understanding of how the universe works. That may seem crazy to some, but to them I address the following saying:
Those who dance are thought insane by those who can’t hear the music.
—Angela Monet
Hopefully, you will hear and enjoy some of the music of my heart, soul, and imagination which I poured liberally into these pages. There is one other particular quote that I find describes quite beautifully how I have tried to approach life, at least for the last fifty years. It has been attributed to a number of people including Alfred D. Souza whose name appears as the author on a cup I have had for some time. Some research I conducted attributes it to Mark Twain who preceded Souza by a hundred years. The cup displays the last four lines of the words that follow:
Work like you don't need the money.
Dance as though no one is watching you.
Love as though you have never been hurt before.
Sing as though no one can hear you.
Live as though heaven is on earth.
—Mark Twain (Samuel Clemmons)
The Loop
Shaar slowly became more and more aware of herself. “What’s happening?” She thought as a wave of unease flowed through her mind just as she realized she had arms and legs. Her mind was so sluggish, like trying to run in a dense gravity field.
Shaar tried to move, but couldn’t quite remember how to make a limb respond, or why she should. This whole experience was starting to feel familiar, which was comforting. “It’ll be all right,” she thought. “I’ll figure this out in a moment or two.” If only she could remember where she was, or who she was. Then it all came back with a flash, and she screamed.
As the scream died in her throat, and her mind climbed back into sanity, Shaar once more evaluated her circumstances and options. She had lived this same déjà vu so many times. Fear-filled thoughts of insanity again flashed through her mind and were gone. Furiously, she fought for control and immediate action. Her hands scrambled for the computer console as plans and actions found order and demands in her mind.
The time loop reconstituted her body and ship to exactly what and where it was when she began the test. Her memory alone continued in linear time, each rerun starting where the last one had completed. No matter how many physical records she made during a loop, they were all gone when the next one started. Computer memory, logbook, notepads, camera images, voice recordings, even computer programs, all returned to the precise condition they were in when she first reached the point of no escape. The only thing that did not return to the starting point was her memory. Each loop lasted two hours, thirteen minutes, and twelve seconds—the exact time it first took her ship to go from the point of no escape to the event horizon of the black hole.
By this time, she knew the drill. She would be mentally alert until about thirty seconds before the end. During those thirty seconds, her senses would grow duller and her mind would fuzz out until she lost all mental faculties. She became a consciousness with no input, no memory, and no senses—a mental black hole. The reverse of the process at the start of the next loop brought on a massive surge of incredible fear as her senses and memory returned. Each time, her hands whitened as the surge of fear closed her grip on the console a bit harder. Immortality in an unending cycle of a bit more than two hours at a time promised a maddening future. She often thought of suicide, but feared the outcome when she would be reconstituted in the next cycle.
It was not the same experience each time, just the same point of restart. She tried countless strategies to break out of the loop using the main jump drives in every conceivable configuration. Frustration gripped her a bit more at each failure. It was frustrating to realize that no matter how much power she used, the fuel charge was always back to 89 percent when a new loop began. She wondered if she was cycling in universal time, and if each new start was the same as the last. If so, how could her memory be linear? Her mind crawled with questions of how and why she could remember actions she took in twenty, fifty, or several hundred previous loops.
She tried sleeping once, but it had been an emotional disaster. It was both maddening and frustrating wondering why her memory continued for all of the 274-time circles since the first. Shaar finally decided she didn’t need sleep, being in effect rejuvenated every few hours.
She thought about Kiaho and their daughter Minia’i and cried. For Shaar, volunteering for this dangerous mission was her response to the emotional pain of their tragic deaths. The engineers and physicists who designed this entire black hole research project gave her a fifty-fifty chance of survival. Theoretically, she was to slingshot around the black hole right at the point of no escape, and then enter a return trajectory to make it back. Things do not always go as planned. In the few minutes the calculated path of the ship took to slingshot around the black hole while avoiding the event horizon, disaster took control. Unexpected forces overwhelmed everything she did to maintain the calculated trajectory. Instead, she spiraled from the point of no return and into the event horizon in an almost infinite number of circumnavigations, each one a bit faster than the last. The hopelessness of her efforts in this gravity maelstrom ate at her mental control as she spiraled into what she knew would be her doom. The cycle first repeated, and started a growing mix of wonder, incredulity, frustration, fear, and a thousand other emotional blasts which, by this time, ricocheted through her brain, creating stabs of pain at each impact.
At the current moment she fought to control her mind. She had to train herself in setting up the computer to try ways to break the loop. Each time, she managed to be a bit faster, to get a bit farther. Infinitesimal hope grew and overpowered the demons of failure that dogged her as she drove her mind faster and faster. Maybe this next time she would succeed. Hope was all she had along with a generous dose of determination and grit. Holding all this information in her memory and planning for the next cycle was all she could do. She was learning and gaining, but the damning fear of impossibility clawed at her vitals.
She was now working at a frenetic pace, knowing the end of the current loop would soon engulf her in the unknown. She was memorizing what she was doing so her effort would go faster and farther next time. Still, fear stalked her every step, no matter how she tried to empty it from her mind. The gnawing fear of continuing in this loop forever was a real terror hiding just below the surface, ready to engulf her. She would prefer death, but that might prove impossible.
Thoughts of what she might find if ever she broke out of the loop also plagued her. Would her world still exist? Maybe she would come out in a distant time and place. The death that type of scenario ensured would be preferable to living forever in an infinite time trap.
She was making gradual headway with her programming and training. If she could time a strong blast from the main control thrusters close to the start of the loop, maybe it would move the ship far enough out from the event horizon that the main jump drive would work into the originally planned trajectory. Unfortunately, she would have to complete the entire sequence extremely close to the beginning of a loop. This meant coming out of that state of bare consciousness quick enough to enter the program from memory and execute it within the first minute or so. Each time she missed, she spent the two-plus hours driving herself, training her mind and body to enter the program quickly and without mistakes. She was practicing entering the program when a slight fuzziness heralded the end of the current loop. Shaar wasn’t ready for that yet. “Damn!” she cursed as she faded into nothingness and became a bare consciousness once more.
Shaar slowly became more and more aware of herself. “What’s happening?” She thought as a wave of unease flowed through her mind just as she realized she had arms and legs. Her mind was so sluggish, like trying to run in a dense gravity field.
Shaar tried to move, but couldn’t quite remember how to make a limb respond, or why she should. This whole experience was starting to feel familiar which was comforting. “It’ll be all right,” she thought. “I’ll figure this out in a moment or two.” If only she could remember where she was, or who she was. Then it all came back with a flash and she screamed.
The Hygienist
I later found out her name was Barbara LeFang. I met her last week in—well, you know—one of those bars. Business had been great, and I wanted to celebrate. Honestly, I had only had a couple of drinks when she walked by my table. Little did I know she would drastically alter my life when she sat down at the bar near me.
Most of the women in this remote outpost on Apodia 5 were missing a tooth or two from fights in bars like this one. I oughta know, I’m the only dentist in this section of the galaxy and I’ve seen some horrible mouths—especially on women. Why women get into so many bar fights here is a mystery, but they do, at least ten times as many as men, according to the stats. The news junkies here are big on stats. Go figure!
And yes, I was celebrating. Lately I’d had a run of major rebuilds on mouths busted up in local bar fights and my cash box was overflowing. Yes, cash! Mostly hard cash at that. No CCs or DCs here, no credit or credits of any kind, and no checks or IOUs. Paper money, registered Centars, are discounted by at least 50 percent. Coin of the realm, gold, platinum, or diamonds for major purchases is the rule. Sure, it’s a bit archaic, but this far from civilization, no one trusts anyone. Everyone carries a Waxtal analyzer to check on coin quality and value, a small price to pay to prevent being cheated.
My little sign, “Dentist, Reasonable Fees,” sat on the table in front of me. It was about the best way I had found to advertise my services. After I saw her eye my sign, she took her fresh drink from the bar and ambled over to my table. Barbara was different. Her revealing blouse competed for my focus with her perfectly formed face framed with lots of tousled black hair in that just-hopped-out-of-bed look. I noticed her pearly whites were neat and straight.
“May I join you?”
“Of course. Any particular reason?”
“I saw your sign and thought you might be interested in what I do.”
“Yea? What’s that?”
“Let’s say I’m a dental hygienist looking for a dentist to hire me.”
“A dental hygienist? Lady, most of my clients are lucky to have teeth, especially the females. About all I do is rebuild busted mouths. My operating room hasn’t seen a prophy in fifteen years.”
“I’m a special kind of dental hygienist. Do preventive care, you might say. I can help your clients keep their teeth, bright and straight in the first place.”
“If my clients don’t lose their teeth, I’m out of business. Right off the top, I don’t like your preventive care.”
“How much do you think you could charge if you promised—no, guaranteed—their teeth would be perfect permanently and you would never have to rebuild their mouth again?”
“Aw, c’mon. No one would believe that.”
“Even if we could prove it to them . . . convincingly?”
“How in hell could you do that?”
“Easily! I can do it right away if you’re game.”
“Lady, I have no idea what kind of con you’re trying to pull, but I’m not buying.”
“Even if I took one of your patients and made their smile beautiful and indestructible?”
By this time I was getting tired of her little game, yet I was still curious. “What’s it gonna cost me?”
“You provide me with your worst patient in your office, and I will do a single demo for absolutely nothing. Free!”
“If I fall for it . . . and if it actually works?”
“I want 50 percent of all your fees my services provide.”
I couldn’t believe I was going to let her work on one of my patients. “Okay! I’ll let you do a demonstration, and if I like it, we have a deal.”
“How soon can we get started?”
“How about tomorrow morning at nine? I have a patient in mind, Lowiece Grenby. She has already had three rebuilds and needs a fourth scheduled for that time. She only has about five real teeth in her mouth. The rest are all bridges and crowns, a shaky situation.”
“I’ll be at your office at seven as it will take me some time to set up my equipment. Is that okay?”
“No problem!”
I’m not a bad looking guy, but when I propositioned her she laughed. It didn’t take long for me to find out she liked sex, but with the same gender I did so it was back to the dental business. As soon as we agreed, she left. I was wondering what kind of scam I had gotten myself into. I had to find out. Curiosity killed more than cats.
Next morning at seven, she was at my office with a small truck and a large black piece of equipment that looked ominous. It took us fifteen minutes to muscle it into the building and into my spare treatment room.
“What do we do now? Where’s the power cord?”
“It has its own power supply. Doesn’t need a cord.”
“Okay! How do we work this thing?”
“We don’t! . . . I do!”
“Okay! So how do you work it?”
When she opened the front bottom-hinged panel a chair appeared. There was also a gadget that looked like a space helmet with a large cable attached to the rear of the device. The cable led to a box under the chair.
“Now! All we need is your patient.”
“I figure the helmet thing goes over the patient’s head, but what’s inside?”
She picked it up, turned it over, and pulled out what looked like one of those form-fitting mouth guards attached to the back of the helmet with another stout cable. She smiled as she told me, “This is the business end of my system. The patient places it in their mouth and holds it firmly. I place the helmet over their head, fasten the straps, and turn it on. In about half an hour, they have a nice new set of indestructible teeth in place.”
“That’s all there is to it? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“That’s it! . . . Job over . . . I get paid. Once this demo is finished and I use my machine . . . I get paid. Every time.”
“How do I know it will work?”
“Simple! . . . Try to damage or remove one of her new teeth.”
“Ha! One crunch with my forceps and your job will be wrecked.”
“Ha yourself. More likely your forceps will be wrecked.”
“We’ll find out soon enough. Ms. Grenby should be here shortly.”
I introduced Barbara to Ms. Grenby as my new hygienist. Lowiece’s answering smile showed that about half of her teeth were missing. When we ushered her into the room, she looked a bit apprehensively at the strange chair we asked her to occupy.
“Don’t worry! It’s a new technique I’m sure you will like . . . a lot!” I assured her.
Barbara explained, “Here! Put this piece in your mouth and bite down hard. It will reshape to fit your mouth and existing teeth. And don’t worry! This will not hurt a bit . . . Really!”
“Go ahead, Lowiece! It’s okay!”
Once she bit down on the mouth piece, she relaxed noticeably. She did not move or utter a sound as Barbara placed the helmet over her head and fastened the straps. She sat motionless and uncomplaining, without exhibiting her usual stream of nonstop questions and idle chatter.
“The system uses a powerful tranquilizing system,” Barbara explained as she stepped back. “Now, let’s leave the room. Consider that as an X-ray machine and stay away from it as it does its job.”
“What about Lowiece? Isn’t it dangerous to her?”
“Like X-rays, emanations from the machine are perfectly harmless at low doses, but can accumulate and do considerable damage during repeated and long-term exposure.”
“That I can understand, but what kind of emanations?”
“If you were a particle physicist, I would still have a hard time explaining it to you. Let’s say it’s doing some serious quantum gyrations and leave it at that. It’s called quantum repolarization.”
With that, I began to worry a bit. What in hell was I putting my patient through?
“You’re sure, absolutely sure, that this will not harm Ms. Grenby?”
“Not in the least. In fact, she will feel better than she has in her entire life.”
“I’m still quite skeptical, you know.”
“In about half an hour, you will be both surprised and reassured. Why don’t we just sit back and relax ’til it’s over? just remember our bargain.”
The emphasis she placed on those last words concerned me a bit. In fact, I was getting more nervous as each minute ticked by. By time the treatment was over I was almost a basket case.
As Barbara headed for the patient, she grinned broadly and remarked “Bargain time!” as she pressed the remote control and turned the machine off.
Lowiece began to move in the chair as Barbara lifted the helmet off. She was bright eyed and animated as the cable was unplugged from the mouthpiece.
Barbara explained, “The mouthpiece has formed closely around her teeth as you can see. I will peel it off , and you will see a new and indestructible set of teeth.”
I was amazed as was Lowiece when she looked in the mirror. “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed with a broad smile. “My teeth have never looked so great!”
I shared several minutes of disbelief with Ms. Granby before I checked her mouth. It was flawless.
“Now for the acid test,” Barbara said, smiling as she led us into the other treatment room and motioned for Lowiece to sit in the chair. “Dr. Dunning will demonstrate the indestructibility of your teeth.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Forceps, you idiot. Try to pull one of her teeth.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“You will, or I will. Take your pick. I said this was a demo, so try to prove me wrong.”
Reluctantly I took out a set of forceps and proceeded to try to remove an upper central. I was gentle at first, but when Lowiece said she was feeling no pain, I tried harder and harder. I have done literally thousands of extractions, and when I braced my other arm against her forehead and wrenched with all my might, not only did it not budge, but Lowiece said it didn’t hurt a bit.
“Now, do you believe me?” Barbara said with a smile. “Let me show you something.”
With that she took the forceps from my hand and belted Lowiece directly in the mouth with all the force in her considerably strong arms. Other than her head snapping back a bit from the blow, and Barbara’s hand holding the forceps bouncing back like a rubber ball, it was as if nothing happened. No blood! No broken teeth! No pain! This was far more than I had bargained for. Lowiece was delighted as she began realizing what this meant.
“Wow! Doc, your new machine is a marvel. I can’t wait to tell everyone of my friends. My enemies will find out about it soon enough.”
“Now, Lowiece, don’t be too hasty,” I said, sounding like an old-school teacher.
“It will take some time for you to get used to your new mouth, so be cautious,” Barbara warned.
Several days later and after we had repolarized numerous other patients, we learned that Lowiece had nearly killed a woman in a bar fight when the woman hit her in the mouth with a beer bottle. The news announcer expressed amazement at her lack of injury from the bottle and the fight that ensued. When interviewed, Lowiece gave me a plug.
With that publicity, my practice grew by leaps and bounds. Although I raised my fees to triple what I had been charging, my office was overwhelmed with new patients. Or should I say Barbara was overwhelmed. All I had to do was rake in the loot. When a patient asked her last name, I realized I had never done so. I was not surprised by LeFang, the big tooth, as she made it big in the tooth business.
Six months later, most of the personnel at the outpost on Apodia 5, about nine hundred individuals, had been made indestructible. Oh yes, once treated, their entire bodies became indestructible, not just their mouths. I, of course, was among those treated. Barbara finally admitted to me that her machine not only regenerated mouth and tooth tissue, nerves, dentin, enamel, and all, but also changed the atomic structure of each atom in the body. Quantum repolarization, she called it. Roughly the energy expended in a blow is reversed or bounced back into the matter of the striking object. That’s about all I could fathom, but the result is obvious—indestructibility.
Then the ship arrived. It was a small ship, with room for no more than a few hundred individuals, and a crew of five. When they disembarked, we received a shock. The five armed crew members reported to Barbara, saluted (at least that’s what it looked like), and proceeded with her to Outpost Commander Quelter’s quarters. We were all escorted by the armed crew to the Commander’s quarters for an announcement. The announcement was made by Commander Quelter, who was obviously under duress.
“To every member of Apodia 5. All but a few of us have been repolarized as you know. The rest will soon be given the same treatment. I have been informed that in spite of what it may seem, we are not indestructible. I repeat, we are not indestructible. The weapon each of the crew of the ship Freedom holds will instantly depolarize anyone struck by its Q-ray. The repaired parts of our bodies will remain, but they will no longer be indestructible. We are all to be trained as an armed force that will, according to the crew, begin systematically conquering the entire galaxy. Those who are willing to join this force will be accepted as comrades. Those who do not will be eliminated. Do I make myself clear?”
Commander Quelter was visibly shaken as he spoke. The resounding yes throughout the compound was obviously driven by fear, not enthusiasm.
“Great!” Quelter continued. “About half of us will board Freedom in ten hours. The rest will remain here for the second ship which will arrive a few days after the first one leaves. Don’t take anything with you as everything needed will be provided aboard ship. Now, those of you who are notified to be in the first group, do what you will, but be at the ship at 0200 sharp. We intend to leave at 0300 on the dot. See you aboard.”
It took me almost an hour, but I managed to get to talk to Barbara.
“Can you tell me what this is all about?”
“Well, I suppose since you were so helpful, I’ll give you a special job. You can repolarize the remaining members of the outpost. That means you’ll be on the second ship.”
“But why? What’s it all about, conquering the entire galaxy?”
“Doc, don’t concern yourself about it. Being indestructible, I doubt we’ll see much real combat. It should be a piece of cake.”
“But your guys have those depolarizing weapons. Suppose some other have them as well?”
“Impossible! I’ve got to go. Conquests to plan and all that rot. You understand.”
“I guess.” was all I got out before she turned and hurried off toward the commander’s building.
By the time I had finished repolarizing the rest of our little army—these were for free—it was a half hour before Freedom was to lift off. I walked around my office and looked longingly one final time at the store of precious metals in my safe. I could have lived like a king, passed through my wistful mind. Oh well, easy come, easy go. I locked my safe—yea, stupid, useless effort that it was—and stepped out my door for the last time to head for the launch pad where I was to board the second ship with the remainder of our group. As I walked down the deserted street, a shadow fell over me. It was far too early for the second ship, and the first one wasn’t to leave for at least fifteen minutes, but that shadow was definitely caused by something big—something very big.
One blinding, silent red flash then another, and I stumbled to the ground. My knee started bleeding. For me at least, physical normalcy had returned.
* * *
It was about six months later, and I was entertaining friends at that same bar—I was the new owner, all that gold and platinum, you know. We were discussing how wrong Barbara had been about the invincibility of depolarization. It seems the commander of the federation starship was an old girlfriend Barbara had dumped. Hell hath no fury, remember? The crew of the federation starship turned us all back to normal, destroyed the repolarization machine, and hauled Barbara and her buddies off to the hoosegow—all without a single fatality. I defended my being the only one to have profited from the venture by reminding them that the whole incident had put Apodia 5 on the galactic map. The resulting inundation of tourists meant huge profits for the locals. We even got a federation bank and useable credit cards. The bar fights between women ceased, and the new dentist—I sold him my practice—wasn’t making out so well. Civilization had tamed Apodia 5. There went the neighborhood.
A Matter of Dedication
Onas awoke to the warmth of sunlight on his face and animal noises some distance away. He was half-hanging, half-lying, and almost upside down in a tree, about twenty feet above the ground. He had no memory of how he had gotten there, but imagined it was painful. Trailing away from him up into the higher branches were several parallel lines of nanocord, and far above him in the forest canopy, the remnants of his gliderchute.
A drop of sweat formed at his chin and ran the length of his jaw toward his ear. His right cheek burned, which was not a good sign, and his right eye was half-stuck shut. His right foot was tangled in the cord, and when he exerted himself to free his leg, an intense pain shot up his back and he nearly blacked out. It was coming back to him: the sharp crack, the look up at the collapsing wing, and then his GC folded and helicoptered him down to a soft crash into the forest. He was at least two miles from the long river sandbar he and Eyalon were supposed to land on and set up the geo-research station.
A sudden lurch downward and Onas realized the GC was beginning to slip from its hold in the branches of the canopy. He watched fascinated and unable to do anything as the branch holding the GC bent and then finally broke, dropping him the last few feet to the ground. Before he could move, the GC broke free and headed straight down at him from at least a hundred feet up. He raised his arms instinctively to ward off the blow and watched as the broken wing caught the air and spun away from him at the last minute.
Damn! That was close! he remarked to himself as he tried to get up. When it didn’t hurt too much, he rolled over and got to his hands and knees. The GC wreckage was right in front of him and what he saw was a shocker. The main composite member had been cut apart neatly, like with a knife. The secondary member had unexploded red primer cord wrapped around it. Some son of a bitch tried to kill me! He thought as he traced the primer cord to a tiny device taped to the composite brace. About three inches of the broken primer cord dangled nearby, broken away from the switch before it could be fired. That had doubtless saved his life. The device was a simple pressure switch set to fire the primer cord well below the drop height and at least half a mile above the jungle. If all the primer cord had fired, the GC would have blown apart and he would have plunged to his death. The loud crack was the primer cord going off and cutting the main member in half. All things considered, the gods had been kind to Onas.
He sat there for a while amidst his scattered test equipment and tried to decide who would want him dead. Mentally he replayed the last crew meeting aboard Mother, looking for clues. Captain Fogarty, the flight commander in charge of everything except the research station itself, was nearing retirement, and their relationship had been jovial from the start. Kropa, the young flight engineer and second in command of the ship, was on his first deep-space assignment. Reserved and seeming a bit self-absorbed, he still didn’t impress Onas as the kind to indulge in any intrigue. He was too intent on furthering his career at this point. Greg, the data manager, about fifty, was rather a geeky, reserved man. Like most people who manage and record numbers, he could be curt in conversation and strongly opinionated when on a subject he knew. He knew numbers and data tracking. Arrianna, the assistant data tracker, was not friendly with anyone. A plain and introverted woman of about thirty-five, she rarely spoke to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. She made it plain that anything other than business in which she was involved was strictly off-limits. During the meeting, her only participation was to ask for direct authority to download and record all data from the research station once it was in place. At that meeting, everyone else had lots to say, even Greg.
Eyalon was the only one who had crossed swords with Onas. They had often been at odds since the project began. Second in command of the research station to Onas, Eyalon was overtly envious. They had several clashes over minor things in the configuration and operation of the research station, the last was an angry exchange about the division of actions and responsibilities during the two-month operation of the station on the sandbar. It ended with Onas putting his leadership stamp on the situation by telling Eyalon, “That’s the way it is going to be.” Eyalon stomped out of the meeting, grumbling unintelligibly. That was less than two hours before their scheduled drop. There were two more in the crew of eight, Salus, a grumpy old guy in charge of ship maintenance and Pirie, the steward, cook, and comedian of the group, also handled communications. Pirie always had something to say, usually a joke, but his cooking was definitely first-class. He didn’t get on too well with Salus, but then Salus didn’t get on too well with anyone.
Onas knew Eyalon had the time, the knowledge, and maybe the anger to rig the GC for his demise. Since neither he nor Eyalon knew which GC they would be taking until drop time, he could have rigged both GCs and easily disabled the one he was using long before the pressure switch fired the primer cord. Onas thought since Eyalon needed to retrieve his part of the equipment to set up the geo-station, he was probably looking for his body right now.
Before standing, Onas took out the emergency medical kit and applied self-sealing aid packs to his hip and his cheek. A cold crush-pack relieved his swollen right eye, but it would be a while before he would be able to see clearly. When standing didn’t bring on any searing pain, he decided he was okay to gather the equipment for the geo-station and head for the sandbar.
He had been walking for about an hour when he saw the unmistakable yellow and red of Eyalon’s GC wing on the ground up ahead. Before he got to the wing, he had to take back his suspicions about Eyalon whose crumpled body lay on the ground still attached by nanocord to the remains of the GC. It was obvious from the wreckage that the primer cord on his GC had all fired and ripped it apart.
“Sorry for the bad things I thought about you, old man,” he said quietly. “Whoever did you is still alive and aboard Mother. They also think I’m dead, and that’s to our advantage. I promise to make that bastard pay.”
Onas changed plans. He began setting up the research station and rain canopy on the bank of the river under the trees, not out on the sandbar. He wasn’t about to let anyone on Mother know he was still alive. He could conduct the experiments and take all the readings just as well in safety from prying eyes. Onas grinned as he mused, The first com reports are due in two hours, before sunset. I wonder what will happen when their call goes unanswered.
Onas began thinking about the planet and the project. Raza three was an unusual planet. About 20 percent larger than Earth, it nonetheless had only about 80 percent of the Earth’s mass and gravity. This was because it had a tiny iron core inside a huge mass of much lighter rocky material. There was no evidence of tectonic movements of the surface. It was smooth and quite level. About 90 percent of the surface was covered with a shallow ocean at most a few hundred feet deep. The land was flat as well, and because of the warm temperatures, it was very wet. Broken rain clouds moved, constantly bringing alternating rain and sunshine in irregular periods. It rained constantly at the highest elevations—about five hundred feet above sea level. The only thing that sculpted the landscape were huge slow-moving rivers running from the highlands to the sea. Their flood plains were the only land not covered with a dense jungle canopy of trees. Virtually no sunlight reached the jungle floor, so it was smooth and easily traversed on foot.
Raza three rotated once every twenty-seven hours and thirteen minutes, approximately. For this reason, the program clock reset every twenty-seven hours and thirteen minutes at about midnight, Raza 3 time. This kept ground station time in sync with the planet’s natural rhythm. The ship’s clock remained on Earth time, so there were two reference clocks on the bridge, one for each kind of time. The planet had a huge moon about a third its size. The two rotated around a point somewhere between them but much closer to Raza three. The research project was to determine if gravitational distortion—tides in the rocks—was generating the heat that kept the planet warm. It was much warmer than it should have been, considering its atmosphere, surface conditions, and distance from the star, Raza.
Its atmosphere, twice the depth of Earth’s, held a much higher percentage of carbon dioxide, 2.5%, and oxygen, 23.2%. Nitrogen, argon, and the other rarer gases were each a lower percentage of the total than Earth’s. There was also a sizeable portion of methane. The carbon dioxide was strong enough to make it noticeable with a slight, sharp stinging sensation when one breathed in. The surface air pressure was a bit more than Earth’s at sea level. He had to know all this to properly set up the instruments. By the time for check in, Onas had everything up and running and plugged into the data storage banks. He did not connect the data relay as that would have given him away.
Suddenly the speaker on the com unit barked out, “Baby one, are you there? This is Mother. Come in.”
The message was repeated several times, each repeat a bit more urgent than the last. The voice on the other end was that of Pirie, the com guy. Finally, almost pleading, he said, “You guys aren’t fooling around, are you? Please respond.”
“Onas? . . . Eyalon? . . . This is your captain speaking. Report back . . . now!”
Onas would liked to have seen their faces at that moment. The guilty party would have stood out like a neon sign on a dark night. They would have to send someone down to find out what was going on, but that couldn’t be done until morning. Onas wondered if the killer would be the one to come down. He settled down in his sleeper for the night, knowing he would be ready in the morning.
Almost hourly through the night, the com unit broke the silence with, “Baby 1, are you okay? This is Mother. Please respond.” Onas couldn’t shut it off as that would be a dead giveaway that someone was alive. He did turn the volume all the way down.
At eight in the morning, the message changed. “We’re dropping out of orbit and will fly by and release a rescue party to see what’s been going on. He should be on the sandbar in about two hours. Make sure your com units are on so we can find you.” Onas wondered if this flight would be blown apart as were the first two. only now, everyone would be watching. Also, this would be a military GC, not a civilian one and launched from a secure spot on the ship. He checked his com unit, carried it back into the forest, and set it on the ground some distance away. He wondered about the rescue mission. Would the killer be on it? Surely they would bring a new pickup rig, balloon and all, to lift the nanocord to where Mother could catch it as she flew by and lift whatever was attached to the end of the cord up into her belly as she flew away.
He camouflaged the research setup with branches and leaves as best he could and waited, hidden from sight in a small hollow of an old tree stump. He watched as Mother flew slowly by, wings fully extended at about twenty thou and released the GC. He followed the mottled green glider as it circled and descended to the sandbar. Who was piloting the craft but Lieutenant By-the-Book Kropa himself. Well, of course. That would be his job. He tied down the GC and spoke on his com unit. It came through soft, but clear on his unit, “I’m on the sandbar, and there is absolutely nothing here. What do I do now?”
“Start a search pattern of semicircles on the windward side of the river, you idiot! just like I explained before we dropped you,” Captain Fogarty always said it like it was.
“Yes, sir!” Kropa clipped off as he turned and waded through the shallow river to the shore about two hundred yards downstream from where the setup was hidden.
About forty minutes, his voice came on the com a bit unsteady. “I found Eyalon, sir. He’s dead!”
“Dead? Where? How’d it happen?” Fogarty was obviously quite shocked, at least as shocked as one with so many years of military service can become.
“I don’t know, sir! It looks like he crashed into the treetops and fell to his death from there. It’s a hundred-foot drop at least.”
“Is there anything strange or out of place at the crash site?”
“I’m examining the wreckage right now. I’ll send images . . . It looks awfully broken up.”
Damn! Please don’t look at those broken members too closely.
“He must have hit the trees going fast,” Kropa told him. “I can’t believe how broken up the GC is.”
As Onas was congratulating myself, Kropa added, “There is something strange though.”
“What’s that?” the captain queried.
“It’s just that I can’t find the research equipment, or his com unit. It’s all gone.”
Damn! Damn! Damn! Onas cursed under his breath, realizing his mistake.
“I know it was attached to his GC right on the main member. Wait a minute. Most of that piece was destroyed in the crash. That stuff’s likely to be anywhere within a few hundred feet.”
“Well, find it. Damn it, and let me know when you do.”
“Yes, sir!”
Now much relieved, Onas worked his way to near where Kropa stood examining the wreckage. Setting his LK on stun, he placed his finger on his lips to indicate silence and stepped into view, leveling the weapon. Kropa froze, started to speak, and then stopped as Onas waved his weapon at his lips with the universal sign for silence.
“Turn off the mike on your com unit—carefully and moving slowly,” Onas whispered.
A slight click on his unit and Onas knew he had complied. He then stepped over to Kropa and relieved him of both of his weapons, holstered his LK, and said, “Welcome to the deadly forest.”
“What in hell is going on here?” Kropa asked when he felt free to speak.
“That’s what I would like to know. Let me tell you what I do know.”
As he led Kropa back to the setup, Onas explained most of what happened. When he finished, Kropa sat dumbfounded.
“Who in hell would want both of you dead?”
“That’s precisely what I’d like to know, and I hope it isn’t you. Incidentally, you’d better call in and report you found the missing equipment in working order and my dead body like Eyalon’s. I don’t want anyone on Mother to know I’m alive yet. That would be too helpful to our killer. So far it looks like an accident. only you, me, and the killer know otherwise. That should be a great help in catching him.”
After Kropa’s report, the captain asked him, “Do you think you could set up that station and take those readings? The instructions are all there in the computer.”
“I don’t know, sir.” After Onas’ emphatic affirmative head shaking, he added, “But I’d like to give it a try.”
“Good boy!” Onas muttered softly.
“I’ll give you all the help I can from here, Lieutenant. I’m sure we can pull it off and make this mission a success. I’d hate to lose two of my crew and go home with nothing for it,” Captain Fogarty said before clicking off the com unit.
Kropa was at least sharp enough to understand the realities of the situation. Now they had to take and record all the readings while finding and catching a murderer who, for all, they knew was fully capable of killing both of them, maybe by leaving them to starve to death.
At this point Onas returned the weapons to Kropa who looked at them curiously then to him, and said, “Sir?”
“Hell, Kropa, that wasn’t being too risky. I shorted out the charge on both weapons before giving them to you. If you were the killer, you would have tried to use at least one of them and I would have known.”
“Maybe I suspected that and am waiting for them to be recharged to use later,” he remarked with a broad grin.
“Not a chance! Your eyes would have betrayed you to this old one-time psychologist. I watched them when I handed you your weapons. I’d have known instantly. Let’s give Eyalon a proper burial due a dedicated man killed doing his job.”
Kropa heaved a sigh of relief as they returned from Eyalon’s burial. Onas was beginning to genuinely like this young man. Something about him struck a chord.
“How about we do a little rundown on the five remaining crew? Let’s rate them as possible murderers and look for motive,” Onas suggested.
An hour later, they had made little progress but had the following list of facts:
1. It was not personal, but rather was directed at the project. This was quite obvious from the fact that both science officers were to be killed.
2. Captain Fogarty was placed at the bottom of the suspect list for lack of motive. The other four were equal possibilities, but nowhere was there a shred of evidence as to a motive.
3. All had roughly equal ability to obtain the primer cord, pressure gauge, and tape used on both GCs.
4. All had equal access to the staging area where the GCs were fixed to crash and kill their fliers.
5. No one of the suspects knew Onas was alive. That was their greatest asset.
“It’s not much to go on, sir,” Kropa said, looking dejected.
“No, but it is a start. Now we’ll have to develop a plan. We scheduled almost sixty days to finish the project and can use all that time to do that and find our killer.”
The first few weeks went without incident. When it came time to send the collected data, Onas coached Kropa. “You’ll have to convert the data to a transmission format on your own. If I did it, I’m sure those data geeks would realize it was not the work of a junior military officer.”
“How am I going to do that?”
“Tell me what you’re doing and I’ll let you know if it will be okay.”
“It seems kinda like an inventory report. I’ve done lots of those.”
“You’ll do fine.” Onas smiled as he kept to himself that he was storing all the raw data on digicards just in case. If one or both of the data geeks wanted to sabotage the project, he had a backup.
* * *
The end of the seventh week, Onas called Kropa over. “We’re almost done here, so we’d better get things ready for pickup. It’s fortunate that the balloon pickup systems on the badly damaged GCs were intact. That means we will have to get Mother to make three runs, each one protected against sabotage. As we decided, you’ll go up on the first lift. It’s definitely the safest. You’ll tell them you are sending the instruments up first along with some fragile samples. Call for the pickup now.”
“Won’t they be suspicious when I show up in place of the equipment?” Kropa asked as he contacted Mother on the com unit.
“I’m counting on you disrupting their plans. If we sent the equipment up first I’m sure there would be a fatal failure on your lift. Make sure you note as much as you can how everyone reacts. Tell them you have to make a military report to Captain Fogarty and then get Fogarty to take you to his cabin for a private talk. You know what to tell him.”
The com unit barked, “Are you ready for pickup?”
“Soon as I get the balloon up,” Kropa replied. “This will be the equipment and some fragile samples, so treat them gently.”
“We’ll be there in about forty minutes. We’re already out of orbit and flying.”
“Wasn’t that Greg, the data geek?” Kropa asked.
“Wonder why he’s manning the com?” Onas questioned. “I thought Pirie would be doing that.”
“He should be, especially during flight operations. I hope this isn’t an indicator of trouble.”
“Too late to worry about that now. Be sure you get to the captain as soon as you’re aboard.”
“What about the others while I’m talking to the captain?”
“There’s not much they could do at that point. Fogarty will be conducting a wide circle to make the second pickup pass. Ask him to secure the rest of the crew in quarters so you and he can make the pickups without interruption. We don’t want any of them to have access to any part of the pickup system or loading bay until I’m aboard.”
With the balloon carrying the pickup line high above him, Kropa got ready to crouch into lift position in the pickup capsule while Onas stood behind the equipment, ready to duck under the cover as Mother flew by.
As the hum of Mother’s air drives picked up, she showed up above the horizon over the river. As Kropa crouched for pickup, Onas shouted, “Pray man! Pray the lift gets you to Mother.”
The catcher fork extending from Mother’s belly picked up the balloon line which stretched, drew tight, and then snatched the capsule containing Kropa up into the air to be retrieved by the recovery winch. Onas was pleased to see the capsule taken aboard without incident before Mother flew out of sight.
Aboard Mother, Greg and Arrianna were manning the retrieval equipment. When Kropa stepped out of the capsule, both registered extreme surprise.
“I thought you were sending the equipment up first,” Greg remarked. “Why the switch?”
“Last-minute change of plans,” Kropa reported. “Right now I have to report to Captain Fogarty. Military protocol, you know.”
“This is a scientific expedition, Kropa,” Greg remarked. “First order of business is the data. Where is it?”
“Coming on the next pickup.”
“How can there be another pickup? You’re up here!” Adriana asked in her most sarcastic tone of voice.
“I rigged the other pickup balloons to deploy as soon as the previous one is picked up. It was quite simple. now I must report to the captain.” That said, he stepped into the lift before they could complain and headed for the bridge.
Captain Fogarty was incredulous at the tale Kropa unfolded. “That Onas is both lucky and resourceful. I don’t know that I can confine everyone to quarters without a known emergency. In the mean time, let’s get Mother into another pickup turn.”
“Why were the two data processors manning the catch lift? Where is the rest of the crew?” Kropa was puzzled.
“They offered to do it, and I saw no reason not to allow it. now it is an obviously different situation. My bet is on those two as the culprits. That Adriana will do about anything Greg orders, so he’s got to be the man behind the plot. I’d sure like to know what it’s all about. Makes no sense to me.”
“Me either, but Eyalon’s death was definitely murder, so it must be serious.”
“We’ll be lined up to recover the equipment in about ten minutes. I’ll send Salus down with you to the recovery bay and try locking the others in quarters. Get moving!”
“Yes, sir!”
When Salus arrived at the bay, they were about two minutes out. Kropa moved one of the mobile cargo cranes against the lift door just in case.
“What the hell’s that about?” Salus asked.
“We don’t need any unwanted company. I’ll explain after this pickup.”
“Okay, Lieutenant.”
“Drop the catcher now,” Kropa ordered.
Salus pulled down the lever, and the winch lowered the catcher.
Kropa tapped his com unit and said, “Captain, the catcher is down and locked.”
Some ten minutes later, the captain said, “Got it! . . . Raise it up . . . I’ll start a new circle and the third capsule should be picked up in about twenty minutes.”
It took about five minutes for the winch to bring the equipment capsule aboard. As soon as it was tied down, Salus lowered the pickup cable catch for the next pass.
Once more Kropa used his com to speak to the captain. “The catcher is down and locked.”
And again after ten minutes, the captain said, “Got him! Pull him aboard and then all of you report to the bridge. We still have a serious problem to deal with.”
“Roger, Captain. We’ll have him aboard in about three minutes.”
Before Onas was up, the door to the lift opened and Greg and Adriana tried to move the crane that blocked them. Somehow they managed to release the lock on the crane wheels, push the crane aside, and step into the recovery bay.
“What’s going on here?” Greg asked curtly. “Why were you trying to keep us out?”
“Captain’s orders!” Kropa answered lamely, positioning himself between Greg and the winch controls as the two moved between him and the lift winch. “This is now a military project and you are to return to your quarters.”
Greg replied, “Not while I’m here. This is a scientific project, and in the absence of the leader and his second in command, I am in charge.”
Kropa tapped his com unit on and hoped Onas could hear him. “You Greg, are no longer in charge. There’s been a murder, and until that is solved, military law prevails and you are under the captain’s command.”
With that Adriana pulled out a Galbo blaster and leveled it at Kropa.
Greg looked surprised. “Adriana! Put that away! That’s a dangerous weapon.”
“Shut up, Greg. This is a whole lot bigger than any of your petty little data thefts. I’m running this show and don’t you forget it.”
Kropa inched his hand toward his LK holster, but she could cut him in two before he could raise it, and he was quite sure she would. “What the hell are you two up to?” he asked. Behind them, the capsule holding Onas was coming aboard.
“Saving our planet,” Adriana shouted. “Saving our planet from alien invasion. Our organization is dedicated to preventing any material from any alien planet from reaching Earth. My assignment was to scuttle this project by any means possible.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Greg asked, a bewildered look on his face.
Salus grabbed for his weapon, but before he could aim it, Adriana cut him in half with a blast from her Galbo. Kropa took this opportunity to dive behind a bulkhead. The last thing he saw before he dropped to the floor was Onas stepping out of the capsule, holding an LK at the ready.
Onas stepped out of the capsule as Salas was blown apart. He was out in the open with no cover nearby. He hit both data geeks with a wide spread from his LK, knowing that would stun them for only a moment. In that moment, he ran and dove behind the loading dock bulkhead, putting three feet of steel between he and the deadly Galbo. Finding one of the round barrel covers, he hurled it toward the opening in the bulkhead where it was vaporized by a blast from Adriana’s Galbo. In that same instant, Kropa rose and knocked Adriana down with his LK. Her Galbo clattered to the floor. Before he could get off another shot, she rolled over, grabbed the Galbo, and grabbed Greg, holding the Galbo against his neck.
“Drop your weapons and step out or I’ll blast Greg,” she shouted.
Onas called out, “We’re not that stupid, you damned bitch. Go ahead, kill him. While you’re doing that, we’ll both hit you with our LKs—at full power.”
After a short silence, Adriana began moving toward the door to the lift. Kropa was out of her line of sight, and Onas couldn’t fire without hitting Greg. He tapped his com. “Captain! Arriana killed Salus and is using Greg as a shield so she can get to the lift. She’s not inside yet. Can you do a complete lockdown—right now!”
Almost instantly the lock down siren went off, and all doors locked and the lift was immobilized. Unfortunately Arriana and Greg got inside the lift before lock down occurred. The lift doors were not blaster proof. Thinking quickly, Kropa rolled a heavy mobile cargo crane up against the lift door and locked it in place. It left enough room for a thin person to squeeze between the crane and the door frame. He positioned himself right beside the door.
Onas ran over to the other side, took the same position there, and asked, “Captain, reverse the lock down—right now and be prepared to lock it again on my word. Now!”
As the door opened, Arriana pushed Greg out in front of her. Onas shouted “now!” grabbed Greg, and jerked him through the narrow space. Adriana burned a hole in the crane, but missed Greg then pulled back inside the lift. The door closed with her inside.
“Captain? I got Greg and Arriana’s back locked inside the lift.”
Behind the crane, the door to the lift began to turn red, then yellow, and almost white. Arriana’s Galbo was at work. Then the door melted away. A badly burned Adriana fell through the doorway, incinerated by the intense heat from the Galbo in such a confined space. She was dead before she hit the floor.
A few minutes later they informed the captain what happened. They heard the captain say resignedly, “Use the walkway and both of you get up here right away and tell me what in the hell is going on. I hate being totally ignorant about what’s happening on my ship.”
Onas replied, “Right away, Captain, but first let me say you have one helluva second in command. I’d recommend a promotion for this man, and I plan to put that in writing.”
Kropa blushed!
_____________________________________________________
This is my second full hard science novel and is very different from the first one, Blue Shift. In 2008 an early manuscript of The Crystal Feather, was submitted in the FWA Lighthouse novel contest. The first several chapters and a synopsis were the submission requirements. I was surprised when The Crystal Feather, entry came in first among a number of submissions. It has taken me three years to finish the novel which is now published and available in both print and ebook versions.
The story: Dr. Draxel Syl has a wild, off-Earth adventure with a drop-dead gorgeous lady named Leura Clauson. Reeling from this experience, he wanders about trying to learn what really happened, who Leura actually is, and what these strange happenings are about. This leads to his learning of and interacting with other humanoids from universes in other dimensions, actually other, parallel universes. In the process, he is abducted and transferred by “portal” to another part of our galaxy by a Segwah star ship captain. The Segwah are a humanoid species closely related to Humans, but from a different universe in a different dimension of space-time. The Scentar, another humanoid species, are from yet another universe in another dimension. The Scentar and Segwah have been at war with each other for millennia, invading each other’s universes and killing each other.
Drax, a principal gravity scientist of the Eegis project in Pasadena has inadvertently created a slowly growing rift or tear in the space-time fabric between the Human and Scentar universes. This tear, caused by one of his research projects at Eegis, could cause the two universes to fold into each other, annihilating both. While the Segwah are virtually identical to Earth’s Neanderthals, the Scentar are quite the opposite, slender and physically very beautiful by human standards. Both Scentar and Segwah have cultures very different from each other and from Humans as well. The Scentar are quite different in another way. There are twice as many females as males because each female birth is identical twins, while male births are always single. This makes their culture and morality based on two female twins bonding with a single male, a very unusual family structure and related sexual morality.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this story to my five marvelous daughters and their wonderful mothers. The inspiration for this book comes from these beautiful, intelligent, and incredibly fascinating women who shared parts of their lives with me. They taught me much of what I know about women and the workings of the female heart and mind. Of course, as a male, most of that is still a mystery to be explored in stories like this one, but never understood by mere men.
Much of what the women in this book are, is derived from my interactions with these lovely ladies. Each of them is or was a unique human being, seldom predictable, often surprising, and always beguiling. There is seldom a dull moment around any of them, and put a few or all of them together, and . . . well . . . they're a hoot!
PROLOGUE
Scentar Archon, Leandra Gordon called a meeting of the six highest ranking Scentar on their Vega Five base in the alien universe where Humans were the only indigenous intelligent species. After the preliminaries of the meeting were over, she spoke about the looming crisis they were suddenly facing.
"Humans have begun to conduct experiments in gravitational wave to EMF energy conversions. Their first crude experiment created a small tear in the space time fabric that separates our two universes. They do not realize the danger they are generating. I would like our chief physicist, Dr. Laura Claiborne, to explain what this could mean for our future."
Laura rose. "First of all, this is a menace, an extremely dangerous menace. It could result in the total annihilation of both our universe and theirs. We must do what we can to prevent that from happening. Our efforts will be limited because of our law of non interference with other cultures. We have contacted the highest Scentar officials on the other side asking for the authority to abrogate some parts of the law in this dire circumstance."
General Lairn Straglo, military commander of the base commented, "The military can take no steps other than defense without direct orders from the high command. Within those limits we will do what we can."
"Thank you, General. I understand that your actions have limits as do ours. We will have to operate under those restraints until and unless we hear differently from the high command. If the danger becomes imminent and real, I will authorize actions outside of our law. Dr. Claiborne, please continue with your evaluation of the situation."
"Thank you, Archon. The Humans have no idea how dangerous their gravitational wave experiments could be. The tear in the space time fabric their first test brought about has dampened out after a month of frightening reverberations. They are planning to conduct a second and more powerful test in the near future. Physically, the gravitons emitted by their tests could start another, larger self propagating rift or tear. Should this rift reach sufficient size, the different dimensions of space/time that hold our two universes apart could fold into each other through the rift. The eventual result would be the annihilation of both universes. This would take several years of Human time, so we do have the opportunity of time enough to work on and solve this before it gets out of hand."
Doorla Mark, head gravity scientist/engineer on Vega Five, asked, "What have Humans done that was different from the initial Scentar forays into gravity/EMF conversions? Why did that create such a problem? We had no such problems with our earliest research, at least none I can remember from our studies of its history. Maybe the best solution would be to get them to modify their equipment and test procedures. Is there a possibility of our doing so within the law's restrictions?"
"We will be pursuing some questionable actions whatever we do. Any interference at all is strictly against our laws of contact," Archon Gordon reminded them. "However, we must take whatever steps we can reasonably take, or those laws will be meaningless. I believe we should develop several plans within and outside of the law, in case we do get authorization to act in ways the law now specifically prohibits. As a last resort, I will authorize any corrective action regardless of the law should such a rift pose an immediate and serious threat."
"Our information is that they are planning another test using more power than the first." Dr. Claiborne continued, "We should direct our first efforts at preventing or changing that test. If that doesn't work and the test creates a bigger problem, we will have to deal with that when it presents itself."
Chapter 1 - Trip to Stentor 7
From force of habit I carefully studied each passenger who came through security and into the waiting area for the shuttle. The years as undercover security for various highly sensitive projects taught and trained me to look for anything unusual. On my first vacation in years, I was headed back to my favorite place in this quadrant of the galaxy. Officially “on vacation” I remained, as always, an active though currently relaxed agent for the Eegis project.
My mind sprung to attention when a tall, exotic redhead strode catlike into the waiting area and flowed into a seat. From the feline way she moved, I was sure she was a Scentar, a rare, variant of homo sapiens from the old earth. I’d heard about this advanced human subspecies, but had never seen one. Her simple, dark, reddish-amber dress clung to her like a second skin, moving flawlessly, enough to show it was not attached.
As she sat, our eyes met and locked for a moment. A sudden, intense feeling of pleasure ran through my body as I imagined her moving sinuously against me. It was more emotion than thought and caught me off guard. I am never caught off guard. The thought, something is not right, sent a chill through me for an instant and was gone.
When they called my group to board, she stood and walked toward the gate right in front of me. She appeared slender, almost fragile, as she stepped fluidly up the ramp and into the shuttle. I have never seen anyone whose body flexed so smoothly with such sensual, liquid movement.
This is my lucky day. I thought to myself as she slithered into the seat next to me. She turned and looked into my eyes.
“I’m Leura Clauson. Who are you please?”
Her directness and musical voice surprised me even more than her exotic appearance. “Uh Draxel, Draxel Syl—call me Drax.” I was uncomfortable and quite ill at ease, sure my words betrayed my discomfort.
“Have you been to Stentor Seven before?” her silky voice chanted softly. “This is my first visit to the Vegan star system.”
“Been there several times,” I struggled to say.
Her breath was like warm milk. She wore a fragrance that hung on the edge of awareness. It was there, but as soon as I thought how delicious it was, the scent was gone, returning only when the thought died. I had never experienced such a woman. In unfamiliar territory, I struggled desperately to find a mental footing.
“I’m going on my first vacation in years, and this is my favorite place to visit. Are you on vacation?”
“No, I’m a botanist on a research project. I plan to study plants growing in the low gravity and artificially controlled atmosphere.”
The lilt of her speech was enthralling. It wasn’t an accent, simply different and quite musical. “A scientist! I’m impressed!” I smiled as I spoke, thinking that was a vast understatement. “How long will you stay? On your project, I mean.”
“At least one stellar year. My grant may be renewed for an additional year. It’s my first major assignment. What was that little smile about?”
Her perception was unbelievable. “Just a little private joke—on me.”
“A secret?”
“No, just a laugh at myself.” Her directness, too, was a surprise.
“Tell me.”
Now I was getting a bit irritated. “Let’s say it’s something I’d rather not tell someone I’ve just met.”
Completely disregarding my irritation, she switched the subject smoothly. “What’s your profession?”
“I’m a gravity propulsion engineer. Do design work on the propulsion systems on craft like this one we’re on.” I was merely repeating my usual cover story. Suddenly, another uneasy feeling hit me out of the blue, like a deja vu experience. I have met this lady before, I thought to myself, but that’s impossible. My mind scurried to find something to say. “This vacation is long overdue, and Stentor Seven is my favorite place to visit.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve seen the digirecords, but those are quite bland. No beauty or poetry. You said you’ve been there?”
“Yes, and it is beautiful, spectacularly beautiful.”
The hum of the shuttle’s engine increased as the craft rose slowly from the pad to start the two-hour trip. The motion was noticeable, but would disappear as soon as we cleared the atmosphere and the main drive kicked in.
“How did it come to be? The records were sketchy about the planet’s origins; they merely mention that it was artificially created with no explanation. What does that mean?”
I was becoming more comfortable, since I was now on familiar territory. “Originally it was a small, sterile planet a bit smaller than the planet Mars and about half its mass. It lies precisely the right distance from the red dwarf star, Stentor, for a life supporting environment. Focused gravity beams were used to tow huge ice planetesimals in from the nearby ring. They melted and became the oceans and created the atmosphere, mostly carbon dioxide. Special vegetation was introduced to consume the Carbon dioxide and add oxygen to the atmosphere. A wide spectrum of biota from earth-like environments were also introduced. It took six hundred years of a great chaotic profusion of these plants on the land and plankton in the seas to bring the atmosphere to its present mixture, much like earth’s except for a bit lower content of nitrogen and a much larger argon component. Temperatures, pressures and many other properties were adjusted for human habitation and the biota thrived. Since then, many larger life forms were introduced and soon flourished. The combination of optimal rotation rate and distance from Stentor, along with lots of work over the years gave us a semitropical paradise covering the entire surface.”
“It sounds wonderful.”
“Because of the low gravity, plants grow to immense size and spectacular proportions, but you know all about that. Right? That, I trust will be the focus of your research project.”
“You are correct. Please tell me more.”
“Stentor Seven is so different it must be experienced. No description can do it justice. I wouldn’t want to clutter that discovery experience with inadequate descriptions. A little patience and you will have this surprising experience for yourself.”
“I will have to take your word for that. It sounds exciting,” she said as the main drive took over, and the hum and vibrations ceased. We had cleared the atmosphere and were on our way.
Over the next hour I relaxed as we spoke about families and friends. She drew pleasant experiences out of my memory and shared her experiences as a child and about growing up. There was an unusual quality to her stories. They were softly emotional. Incredibly, I could feel her joys and pains as she described them.
After a rather long pause in our conversation, I realized she had fallen asleep. Her head against my shoulder brought on pleasurable sensations, as did her snuggling down against me several times during the flight. I examined her closely. Her hair was extremely fine with individual hairs growing unusually close together. It was dark red with no hint of a color change near the roots. If it was dyed, it was a perfect job. She turned a bit and put her hand gently on my right arm. Her pale amber skin was baby soft and unflawed. When I touched her hand, it felt like satin, nearly frictionless. By now I knew she was too perfect to be a normal human. The “Scentar,” as those rare advanced humans were called by some, were reported to have unusual emotional abilities. She seemed to possess those.
I noticed a crystal pin high on her dress, the only adornment she wore of any kind. It appeared to be a feather, about an inch long and fragile. It looked like a real feather, but was tiny and crystal clear. When it moved, it sparkled with the many colors of the spectrum. It seemed one moment to be clear, another to flash color, and another to catch and reflect or refract any light source. It was so vibrant it seemed alive.
Chapter 2 - We Arrive on Stentor 7
A slight bump was followed by vibrations and the hum of the landing drive. Leura sat upright without the slightest hint she had been asleep. “We must be arriving.”
I looked blankly at her. “You slept the last hour without moving. I wish I could do that.”
“Concentrate on pleasant thoughts and close your eyes. You’ll go right to sleep.”
I smiled at her easy answer, still concentrating on the lovely crystal feather pin. “What’s that pin your wearing? It’s beautiful.”
“A gift. My mother gave it to me when I completed my studies. It’s the only jewelry I ever wear. It’s supposed to signify fidelity.”
“That’s one I never heard before.”
“It’s a special kind of fidelity. Fidelity to a common, usually treasured experience with someone you love. My mother loved me very much, as I loved her. It’s about the wonderful life we spent together before I left home. Specifically, it’s commemorating our last day together. That experience will never happen again.”
“That’s beautiful, sad, but beautiful.” My unhappy feelings were intense and undeniable for a moment as those words were said.
“Yes, my twin sister and I gave her a similar pin. It’s a family custom. We both knew we would never see our mother again.”
I’m sure my shock showed. “Why not?”
Her voice was full of pain. “It’s a bit complicated. We knew our paths would never cross again.”
The sorrow within me became overpowering. “How can you be so sure?”
Leura had the tiniest hint of melancholy for an instant. “Please, I’d rather not talk about it anymore.”
Suddenly, I experienced an intense change to terrible anxiety. It was overwhelming. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone. I felt fine. “What was that all about?” I said out loud in reaction.
“What was what all about?” her clear, silky voice had returned.
“Sorry. I had a strange feeling for an instant and it startled me.”
Once more Leura shifted mental gears without hesitation. “Would you be able to help me to my hotel? This is all so new to me and I’m a bit nervous about going there alone.”
With my luggage scheduled to be delivered, I was free to go where I wished. “I’d be pleased to.”
“You’re sure it won’t be an inconvenience?”
“Positively. I’d love to see you to your hotel.” Once again I could hardly believe my good fortune.
* * *
The air car dropped us at level 196 of the hotel. It landed smoothly on the cantilevered plaza. Leura picked up the one small bag she carried and danced across the plaza right to the edge. She was a little girl running with excitement from one side of the outside walkway to the other as I led her to her room.
“I’ve never been up this high in the hotel. How’d you manage such a room? I thought the upper floors were reserved for foreign dignitaries?”
“And foreign botanists,” she quipped as she flipped her hair and, with a flourish, hand-printed the door which slid soundlessly into the wall and then closed silently behind us after we walked inside.
I was dumbfounded. The room was decorated in shades of the same color as Leura’s dress and hair. “This can’t be an accident. How’d you get your room decorated to match—you?”
Her look and demeanor changed. She laughed in that sensuous, lyrical way, no longer the little girl. Her voice had the timbre of a flute or muted violin.
“I plan on being here for at least a year, so they let me have my choice of decoration. Do you like it?”
“It takes some getting used to, but it certainly is beautiful.” Once more, an intense feeling of warmth and pleasure flowed through my entire body. A soft “Wow!” escaped my lips.
After stowing her luggage, she pranced out of the bedroom and walked up to me. “Now, Mr. Syl, since you wouldn’t tell about the wonders of this place, how about showing me? Is it possible you have the time to help me to experience Stentor Seven as you said I should?”
Once more that delicious, warm sensation flowed through me. “I’d be delighted to do so, even if I didn’t have the time. How about a little mountain climbing for starters?”
“Isn’t that a bit strenuous for starters?”
“There’s an elevator at the end of your floor. It will take us to the roof. Come on,” I said as I guided her out her door, around the corner of the building, and to a glass enclosed elevator doorway.
“Oh my,” she exclaimed when she spotted the huge mountain hovering over the hotel. “Is that the one we are going to climb?”
“Positively! In this gravity, those stable mountains rise seventy thousand feet with sheer cliffs you can see from here. Step into the elevator and we’ll start our climb.”
“In the elevator? We go up in an elevator?”
“No,” I said with a gentle laugh. “The elevator takes us to the roof where we catch a cable car for the ride to the top and an inconceivable view.”
Once in the cable car she reverted to the wide-eyed little girl once more. “This view is amazing. I can see all the way to the seashore. Look at those waves breaking. They seem to take forever to cover the beach.”
“Do you realize that beach is at least thirty kilometers away . . . and down below us at least a dozen?”
“It is so beautiful . . . It looks much closer.” The cable car reached the summit and we got off. “I thought it would be much colder up here,” she said.
“That’s another result of the low gravity and the depth of the atmosphere. The air mixes vertically and doesn’t form layers. You must go extremely high to reach cooler air.”
We walked over to an open air restaurant, ordered drinks, and took a table with a panoramic view. After sitting and discussing the spectacular scenery, I pointed to another cable car on the other side of the peak.
“Would you like a ride down to that beach? That cable car goes there nonstop.”
“All the way to the beach?”
“Yes, all the way to the beach. It’s an open car, so you can hear and feel as well as see.”
“Let’s go!”
As the open car dropped, the sounds of the unbelievable, mountain waterfalls were all around us. A wide-eyed Leura skipped from one side of the car to the other. “I know now what you meant about experiencing it, and that words would be inadequate. The muted sounds of those slow waterfalls and of the unusual rivers are a chorus of musical mumbles. And look . . . there is no spray. The water forms huge drops, balls of water, why is that?”
“That’s because they fall so slowly air doesn’t blow them apart. Rain falls the same way, in huge mushroom-shaped drops, just like those. The warm rain is unbelievable. Because of the low gravity, raindrops fall slowly, congealing into those large blobs. Eventually they are blown apart by the air as they fall through it, only to coalesce into blobs once more. It’s a most delightful feeling to be softly pelted by the big blobs of warm water.”
“I heard about the rain. I can hardly wait to experience it. I want to run through it freely, without clothes.”
I would surely like to see that, ran through my mind, but I didn’t mention it. Her next comment drew vivid, erotic mental pictures in my mind.
“If the chance comes up, could we run through the rain together? I’d like that.”
It was said so innocently, so matter-of-factly, that she caught me speechless. I was struggling for composure. “Uh - yeah - sure. That sounds like a great idea.”
By this time the car reached the beach station. As soon as the car stopped, Leura bounded out and raced onto the beach. She froze as a huge wave rose up then slowly crumpled onto the beach. She outran the slowly moving surf to where I stood.
She kicked off her shoes and grabbed my hand. “Come on. Dive into the surf with me.”
“Can’t! I’d ruin my clothes.”
“Waterproof,” she shouted, grabbing her dress to demonstrate as she ran down the beach and dove into the next huge wave.
My momentary fears for her safety were soon relieved when I saw her body surf right up to the beach. After doing this several times, she walked up to me a bit breathless, peeled off her dress, squeezed the excess water out of it and then slipped back into it. This was all done with complete abandon and innocence.
“Take off your clothes and dive in. It’s so exhilarating.”
“This public beach is not clothing optional.”
“How parochial,” she said as she picked up her shoes. “I suppose I should get back to my room and unpack. How do we get back?”
“We can walk, call an air car, or climb the lift.”
“What’s the lift?”
“It’s a hand ladder used to climb straight up in the atrium of your hotel. The light gravity makes it practical. It’s easy for most people.”
“Oh! Let’s do that. It sounds like fun.”
Chapter 3 - Soft Music, Soft lights, Surprise
When we entered the hotel, I showed her the lift. It’s a simple knotted rope that slopes across the atrium from the first floor to the tenth and from there, crisscrosses the atrium, ten floors at a time all the way up.
“Isn’t it dangerous? I mean, what if you accidentally let go? The gravity may be low, but a fall would still do some damage.”
I laughed and showed her the safety strap. “Slip your hand through one loop, pass the strap over the lift and then do the same to the other hand. Should you let go or get tired, the strap will hold you as you dangle from the lift until you start climbing once more. Go ahead, try it.”
Soon Leura was scampering up the rope like a monkey with me in close pursuit. Watching her unusual body flexing as she climbed was pure pleasure.
“This is fun,” she said as she vaulted onto the fiftieth floor landing. “Some time I’d like to try to make it all the way, but I see that would take quite a while. How about we catch the elevator from the next landing?”
“Good idea. I’m beginning to get a bit winded,” came from me through breaths that were laboring a bit. She didn’t seem winded in the least.
“I’ll bet you would soon be conditioned to it if you climbed this every day for a while.”
“Probably, but that will never happen,” I said as we headed for the elevator.
“And why not? I thought you said you were on vacation.”
“Well, it’s a sort of working vacation. There are a few things I must do while I’m here.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s supposed to be confidential.”
“Secrets?”
“Proprietary technical information. It would bore you to death,” I said, hoping to be vague and not answer.
“Now you have my curiosity piqued.”
“Trade secrets we are not to divulge to anyone. You could be a spy for a competitor. After all, I know nothing about you.”
“Well, I’m not a spy,” she said as we arrived at her room. “Can you come in for a while? I have some lovely music I know you’ve never heard.”
Good fortune was still smiling on me. “I’d love to hear some of your music.”
Leura stepped lightly to the entertainment console and turned it on. She was right. It was music I had never experienced. In its unique tones and mixed rhythms I sensed more than heard, the plaintive cry of a loon, the rustle of pine trees in the wind and the crashing of waves on a rocky shore. It bordered on being visual and somewhat dreamy. Leura smiled as she switched the glass outside wall from clear to one way. We could see the beauty of Stentor Seven stretched out before us, but no one outside could see in. Once more I became aware of her delicate perfume. It stimulated all of my senses when she walked over and looked straight into my eyes. The warm-milk-like fragrance of her breath caressed my sense of smell. It was intoxicating. She reached up and gently placed her wrists on my shoulders. Her hands hung loosely, touching my back. I hated the shirt that lay between her hands and my skin.
“Now, Dr. Syl, I want us to dance together. Is that all right?”
I was now out of my league and rapidly losing any hint of control. What the hell is happening? I wondered to myself as she slipped her silky fingers around my neck, took my hand and moved to the music. As I looked into her eyes, I realized they were a dark blue with a hint of red to the black of her large pupils.
“Pull the little ring at the back of my collar,” her soft voice commanded.
With a slight pull, her dress changed from the amber-red to an iridescent blue-green. She began moving rhythmically against me to the hypnotic beat and sound of the strange music. The sensation penetrated my whole body which flushed with warmth.
“Now, dear Drax, I want to show you my appreciation for what you are going to do for me.”
She pulled me gently into the bed where cool satin sheets caressed my skin. I could hardly tell the difference between those sheets and her silky dress. Something akin to an adrenaline rush of fear surged through my being. I was perceiving everything with intensely heightened senses and enjoying every delicious moment.
“Lie on your stomach. I want to give you a massage,” she urged.
Ecstatic, I complied. Her long, slender fingers were soon working up and down my spine, around my shoulder blades and neck and down the back of my legs. I had never felt so sensually stimulated, so aware, in my entire life. When my body turned to jelly, she stopped the massage and began dragging her fingers lightly over my bare arms. Suddenly I felt her lips moving up and down the back of my neck. The stimulation to my skin was electrifying. Finally, she stopped and lay down on her stomach beside me.
“My turn.”
I was overcome with passion and amazement. “What do you want me to do?”
“Do to me what I did to you. Don’t you think that’s fair?”
I remembered a line from the distant past and uttered it under my breath, “Resistance is futile.”
I began in the middle of her back. The fabric of her dress seemed like a second skin. Unbelievably soft and satiny, it moved smoothly to my touch. She had no taut muscles. I continued to massage her for a while until she rolled over on her back and looked up at me. Those dark eyes bore into my essence.
“Tickle me, please. Slide your fingertips slowly and gently over my skin. Barely touch me, like I did to you. You liked that didn’t you?”
“I prayed you’d never stop.”
“Do it until I can’t stand it anymore. Then we can weep together.”
“Weep? What do you mean, weep?”
“Weep for joy. Ultimate joy.”
“I have no idea what you mean, but I’m game. Joy sounds good right now.”
“You’re doing wonderfully. When both of us are out of our minds with joy, then we will weep.”
I felt as if I would explode. Every touch of my fingertips on her skin drove me to new heights of ecstatic pressure. After what seemed like hours Leura rose slowly, slid over beside me and began brushing my hands and arms with her fingers as I continued touching her. Finally, because I could stand it no longer, I stopped moving my hands.
Leura sensed the change and rolled ever so slowly onto her back pulling me down with her.
Those dark blue eyes continued to bore into my soul while her soft voice hummed quietly, “Weep my love. Weep for all time.” Her voice trailed off into silence.
My mind and senses virtually exploded, a long, delicious explosion of complete abandon. I lost my sense of gravity and seemed to float in the midst of the continuing soundless explosion. I had never before felt such intense pleasure. The center of my being separated from my head and floated through my body. I was in my arm, then hand, foot, leg, abdomen and back to my head in rapid succession. Intense feelings ricocheted between joy and melancholy, pleasure and despondency, never remaining for long in any single state.
After what felt like an eternity, Leura’s near whisper floated through my head. “Thank you, dear Drax. Thanks for life and love.” I opened my eyes and looked at her for an instant. I was surprised to see a narrow stream of tears flowing from the corners of her eyes. My eyes again closed, and I drifted once more in complete, all-engulfing, feeling-filled silence.
Suddenly things changed, drastically. Normal gravity had returned. When I reached for her, all my grasping hands found was a slightly damp, rumpled cotton sheet. What the . . . I thought as I opened my eyes to the shock of a bright, sunlit window in a beige room. I was alone and in a different bed in a different hotel. Outside, the sun was rising over the unmistakable skyline of Cleveland, Ohio. “My God!” I said out loud. I was incredulous! “I never—almost forgot who I was,” came stumbling out of my mouth as reality crept back into my senses.
A flash of realization brought me to check my watch. I saw there was barely enough time to get to my breakfast meeting with Arlo Trippy, the engineer who was my NASA counterpart, working with me on the Eegis project. I dressed quickly, grabbed my suit coat and headed for the dining room. Arlo was waiting as I walked in.
“Right on time. I like people who are punctual.”
“I nearly wasn’t. You wouldn’t believe the wild dream I had last night, or maybe this morning. At least, I think it was a dream. It seemed so unbelievably . . . alive.”
“Sometimes dreams can seem quite real.”
“This one sure was.” I shook my head, still bewildered. “Well, let’s get down to business. That’s reality.”
“Certainly,” Arlo paused and gazed intently at my coat lapel. “What’s that pin you have on? You weren’t wearing it yesterday.”
I glanced at my lapel. Firmly attached was a tiny crystal feather.
________________________________________________
“Those who dance are thought insane by those who can’t hear the music.”
The Feudals, is a collection of political essays: It is mainly about those I call “Feudals” because of their desire for a political system similar to the Feudal system of the middle ages in Europe. Please note: This book is not “politically correct.” Some of my words will probably offend people with widely varying viewpoints. I’m certain I have written something to offend everyone. Let’s say I am an equal opportunity offender. These words represent many viewpoints, some quite controversial. They are not written deliberately to offend or insult, but to stimulate debate and interest in some cases, in things we often choose to ignore. Closed minds beware! The final edition of the book is planned for release late in 2012.
This book is a collection of my own ideas, thoughts and concepts in the arena of politics. The conclusions and projections are based on frequently cited evidence. I refuse to believe or trust any person considered to be a politician. I believe their actions, not their words. What they do is what they are, not what they say or promise.
The book explores the motives of those who mostly ignore the realities of rational people, finance, and the marketplace, and use the emotions of class envy, hatred and racial tension to gain supporters. The ones who ran our country for most of the last sixty years, and are now running our country into financial disaster. Their use of hate rhetoric and class envy seems to far outweigh realistic, rational thought in the minds of the masses of voters. This book seeks to examine and explain this irrational phenomenon. In these words are descriptions of those things I distrust: hypocrisy, ignorance, snobbery, elitist intellectualism, closed minds, dependence, propaganda, political slavery and irresponsibility. I favor rational thought over emotion for making life decisions. I say, “Use emotions to enjoy love, the arts, people, and successes of any size. However, use logic based on realities to make decisions, especially political ones. Observe what politicians do and ignore what they say, for their words are seldom sheeted close to the winds of truth.”
DEDICATION
I lovingly dedicate this book to those family and friends who take such strong issue with my political opinions as well as those who agree with them. Some of these usually kind, considerate, and thoughtful people are so terribly misguided in their thinking, so emotionally driven, that they turn into fire-breathing monsters when faced with people or ideas that do not support their fundamentalist political beliefs. I especially appreciate those who, because of an opinion or idea I have expressed, have cursed and ridiculed me, called me stupid, racist, white male (isn’t that racism?) and every other name they deem demeaning.
I consider all these attacks as badges of honor. I might add these attacks, from mild to extreme, have come at me from each end of the political spectrum—left and right. To those a bit left of center, I am a right wing extremist. To those a bit right of center, I am a flaming liberal. The expressions run from mild disapprovals to angry personal attacks often laced with profanity. Mostly and privately I have to chuckle at these disapprovals. Considering the prejudices of their expressions, I consider these attacks as compliments. I have developed an extremely thick and resilient political skin that is exceedingly difficult to get under. While emotional diatribes are profuse, one thing I never hear in any of these arguments is a rational approach, suggestion, or solution to any of the problems or subjects of any argument. I actually feel sorry for the great distress they must feel when they are unable to sway me from my opinions they must know are so wrong. Be sure to read the first paragraph of the preface to understand why. To them, and especially those on the left, I dedicate this work.
PREFACE
I would like to make my position, my political and moral guide, and my personal beliefs about what is good for Americans and for humanity as clear as I can, so the reader will better understand what I have written in these pages. I am a believer in myself and those individuals I trust. I trust no politician I do not know personally, and very few of those I do. I am not a follower of or beholden to any ism, group belief system (religious, political or other), political party, union, peer group, grant committee, dean or head of faculty, political or other boss, or corporate officer at any level. For this reason, I am free to speak my mind and express my own opinions, mistakes and all, without apology to anyone or any group. I consider myself an equal opportunity supporter or offender, a truly independent and quite liberal individual, and a realist who knows what it means to conserve. No, that is not a contradiction. I will not accept as a fact, any words, concepts or ideas that do not meet the tests of logic, reason and/or hard science as I understand them. My opinions and beliefs are subject to change when and if new information makes a change necessary. I also firmly believe that all political parties considered left of center will lead their nations eventually to totalitarian forms of government. I believe that liberalism, socialism, communism, marxism, Islam and fascism all lead to forms of totalitarian government where a relatively small, elitist corps of individuals impose their will on the vast majority of common folks, the serfs of medieval times. These individuals, these serfs, have virtually nothing to say about or to their elitist masters that will make even a tiny bit of difference in their own lives. They gave little personal freedom and virtually no economic freedom at all. I lump all these together under the label, Feudals, after the feudal systems of medieval Europe, Japan, China, Greece, Rome, Egypt and many others where kings, emperors, caesars, kaisers, czars, pharaohs, imams, and rulers of many other names held the power of life and death over their subjects, the common folk. These common folk are and will remain virtual slaves to those in power, even if they elect them. The biggest myth, the biggest lie these elitist masters perpetrate on the masses is that they are governing for “the good of the people.”
A totalitarian system, no matter what size, ideology, religion, or belief system followed, is still a totalitarian system. The only system of government that is not totalitarian is a democratic republic where the people are superior to the government. That is the only system where people are at all free. Our Constitution was designed to insure that reality and to protect the people from a controlling and abusive government.
Where we are now economically and politically is exemplified powerfully by the words of our current President, Obama. “America is the greatest nation on the earth, and we are going to change all that.” All the ideologies of the left and the right are totalitarian systems where an elite few control the government and the people are beholden to them for everything. That is a pretty accurate description of slavery.
Very few times in my long life have I voted for a candidate. In almost any election, I have to make a choice between the lesser of two evils. I firmly believe that Mark Twain and Eric Hoffer have made the most accurate observations about people, especially politicians. I will quote just two of them here of the countless ones they each wrote.
Mark Twain said, “A trained flea can do most things a Congressman does.”
Eric Hoffer said, “There are many who find a good alibi far more attractive than an achievement. For an achievement does not settle anything permanently. We still have to prove our worth anew each day: we have to prove that we are as good today as we were yesterday. But when we have a valid alibi for not achieving anything we are fixed, so to speak, for life. Moreover, when we have an alibi for not writing a book, painting a picture, and so on, we have an alibi for not writing the greatest book and not painting the greatest picture. Small wonder that the effort expended and the punishment endured in obtaining a good alibi often exceed the effort and grief requisite for the attainment of a most marked achievement.”
The left seems to have far more alibis than ideas. All of the ideas they do have, seem to cost four times as much as their estimates. Also, it is so obvious that most of the money they spend, taxpayer money, goes into the coffers of leftist political organizations and supporters, and almost always without positive results. I challenge all of those liberal Democrats who may accidentally read this, to cite for me any political division, any state, city, or county that is or has been controlled for very long by Democrats and labor unions, that is not—I repeat—not in financial trouble, extreme financial trouble. These petty tyrants are totally dependent on money forcefully taken from private sector business and individuals. As a result, private sector businesses and the jobs they provide, move to places more favorable to private sector business and jobs. I might add that they are also riddled with corruption and graft. I also defy you to cite any Republican equivalents to the corruption and financial devastation found in Cook County Illinois, Detroit Michigan, or California. And during the past four years, Washington DC.
When I select a candidate to support it is usually the one I believe will do the least damage to the nation, to freedom, to the well being of the masses. Sadly, it is getting harder to discover any candidate who is not a potential disaster. Usually this is because there is so little difference between their dedicated self service. The best political situation I can think of at present is total gridlock.
Then, at least, crooked self-serving politicians can do little legislative damage.
Getting back to celebrity worship, kings and leaders, I believe this self subjugation to a charismatic leader is a genetic trait we share with our simian cousins and maybe all primates who live in troops or packs. For this reason, the original title of this book was Monkey Kings, Monkey people. There is considerable evidence for this tendency being genetic from many university studies of primates.
So, the belief in and energy to achieve freedom, individual enterprise, and voluntary cooperative effort goes against our instincts. Those instincts tend to drive us toward royalty or celebrity worship and away from individual effort no matter how good or positive it is. Just look at how the media fawns and swoons over the total anachronism that is British royalty. This is probably one example of why so many individuals would rather have a single monolithic power structure than many independent power structures in competition with each other.
Please note that competition does not mean war although it can come to that unless it is deterred. Free competition means individuals and groups compete with each other where it provides an advantage and cooperate when cooperation holds an advantage. In free enterprise capitalism, thousands and even tens of thousands of individuals and groups cooperate under laws that prevent warfare and other destructive activities. These members of independent groups will automatically work to find the best and most efficient ways of producing valuable goods and services at the lowest costs. This is because inefficient and or costly operations will be at a disadvantage in the marketplace. They will either improve their efficiency and lower their costs, or go out of business.
Government, on the other hand, has no such limits on wastefulness, sloth, or inefficiency. There is no built-in regulatory system in government. Poorly organized and wasteful practices never deter any government department from continuing to operate. This fosters a make work attitude in managers whose status and often pay scale is completely separated from performance and is dependent solely on how big they can make their portion of the budget. The more employees, the more work, the more status, the more gain. Status means money and power. Add to this the power of government unions and you have a recipe for huge costs far out of proportion to the worth of any accomplishments. The number one goal of any labor union is to gain political power and secondly to get the most money and benefits for the least amount of effort or work, the exact opposite of any private enterprise. These are some of the reasons why private enterprises are so much more efficient and financially sound than comparable government departments or, if you will, businesses. The Postal Service compared with UPS, Fedex, or any number of other private businesses in the same arena. The entities, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac have no private counterparts. They are a unique haven for greedy men who would be considered the lowest of thieves in the private sector. There are countless other examples, many completely hidden from the public eye.
Corruption in government run systems is rampant and extremely expensive. That is because of all the money available in huge bureaucratic operations with little oversight. Medicare fraud has become a huge source of money for criminal; enterprises. So much so that international criminal organizations are operating nationwide rings defrauding Medicare of billions of dollars. One organization alone accounted for nearly $12 million in a single year. The total fraud loss is estimated by the government to run as high as $60 billion a year. Other independent groups estimate the losses at more than $200 billion a year. Those criminals must be salivating over the bonanza they see coming with Obamacare.
This is absolute madness driven by people who constantly denigrate private business, capitalism, profits—preach class envy and incite hatred for those who are successful and provide most of the real wealth of America. There are a multitude of examples which the masses seem to ignore completely. Maybe they see it as more satisfying to do harm to those terrible wealthy people even if that costs them their job, their home, and their well being.
As far as I am concerned, our federal government has become the enemy of free men even as King George III was the enemy of the original tea party patriots. The end result of the efforts of those early American patriots was a Constitution designed specifically to protect the citizenry from their government. Now, clever and subversive groups are trying to destroy that protection with an all powerful government that will tell you how to run your affairs down to when you can turn on the lights in your home. Obama actually said that in one of his speeches. In another speech on July 2, 2008 in Colorado Springs he also said, “We cannot continue to rely on our military in order to achieve the national security objectives that we've set. We've got to have a civilian national security force that's just as powerful, just as strong, just as well-funded.” Now why would he say or even want that? I wonder if they would be wearing brown shirts?
These are not the words of a man who would be leading a nation of free and responsible people. They are the words of a power grasping despot planning on holding on to that power for himself with an iron fist. This same man is about to take the most expensive trip any person in the entire history of the world has taken, all on the backs of American taxpayers who have been decimated financially by his leadership. He will be taking his family and hundreds of loyal disciples with him. One objector commented, “This trip will cost more than all the trips taken by the last two Presidents put together.” This trip has no purpose whatsoever other than the personal aggrandizement and show of personal power by one Barack Hussein Obama.
Eric Hoffer described the differences in the lives of these kinds of individuals in many recorded quotes. Here is one of them.
“The real haves are they who can acquire freedom, self-confidence, and even riches without depriving others of them. They acquire all of these by developing and applying their potentialities. On the other hand, the real have nots are they who cannot have aught except by depriving others of it. They can feel free only by diminishing the freedom of others, self-confident by spreading fear and dependence among others, and rich by making others poor.”
In my opinion, those last two sentences describe those on the left, extremely accurately. These are those who would destroy producers and turn the entire nation into a Detroit by and for the same reasons.
I also understand why not a single individual from either extreme position will ever propose or outline a rational solution to any of the ills they so loudly denounce. Obviously these people are only about blame and not about solutions. They are strictly problem users, not the problem solvers we so desperately need. It is clear that solving any of the multitude of their complaints would simply remove a weapon from their arsenal of control, hate and condemnation. The one use they do make of problems is to elevate them to the status of movements and then use them as tools with which to gain money and power for themselves.
The big difference between capitalists and socialists is that capitalists seek to gain for themselves by providing opportunity (jobs) for others (even socialists) to gain as well. Socialists seek all of their gains by taking away from successful capitalists. The difference between government and private enterprises is that while private entities must have rules and provide incentives for people to voluntarily work for them or buy their products and services, government has no such limitation. In fact, government has and uses the power of law enforced by men with guns, handcuffs and prisons to impose their rules, products, and services on everyone, whether or not they are wanted or needed.
“It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest.”
—Adam Smith
So to all you ideologues of the right and left, I thank you for the tolerance of ridiculous ideas and emotional clap-trap—the purely human foibles—that I have learned to understand from your words and actions. Indulge me in merely one classic example which will never be repeated by the New York Times or any of the talking heads on TV. You can deny it, blame it on George Bush, or any other conservative or Republican, but a drive through the once vibrant American city of Detroit is far more dramatic testimony than any words I could use.
Remember King Lyndon’s Great Society programs? Part of that was his Model Cities program which cost billions of taxpayer dollars and was not only a total failure if measured against its stated goals, but it literally destroyed at least one of America’s most vibrant and productive cities. I need only quote one of King Lyndon’s pronounced promises:
“Detroit will be a shining example of the benefits of our Model Cities program.” Little did he realize just how prophetic those words would be. Detroit certainly has become an example of the results of the policies of his Great Society programs now being greatly expanded by Obama and his cronies. These policies have become political payoffs for the efforts of mostly government unions and are a clear demonstration of the corruption rampant in Democrat politics. There are countless others available, even a few within the pages of this book. Consider the financial plight of the states of California, New York, Michigan, and several others dominated by Democrats, and paralyzed and pillaged by union thugs. These are the undeniable realities that are the basis for my political writing.
Can anyone name a single area (city, county, or state) dominated by unions and liberal Democrat politicians that is not in desperately bad financial condition (that means bankrupt or nearly so) and where business is not fleeing to locations friendlier to business and commercial enterprise as of this moment? The possible exception being those businesses that financially support the liberal agenda and are substantially rewarded with exemptions from many controls and taxes. (GE who paid virtually no federal income taxes in 2010 or Goldman-Sachs who received billions in taxpayer’s money to bail out their excesses.) Do any of you understand the reality of this situation, or are your heads firmly buried in the blinding sands of liberalism, socialism, communism, facism, marxism, feudalism or other collectivist political system? Are you all a bit clearer now on where I stand?
HoJo’s Predictions - Some Personal Reactions and Responses - updated to 6-03-2012
Since the late 1990s I have made a number of predictions based on what I saw coming in the business and political environments. Few people paid any attention to my predictions. Subsequent events proved my predictions amazingly accurate, at least in a general sense. Still, this seemed not to impress anyone or at least very few. This little booklet, and the BLOG with the same title, were written with the same content. It recounts some of those predictions and when they were made. At the time they were made, each was documented in my HJRants blog and by providing written copies to several groups of people and emails to my contacts. I’ll wager few people paid any attention to them at the time. Most will probably ignore or reject my latest predictions like they did the earlier ones.
At least two years ago I began noticing what to me seemed to be obvious warnings of another kind, ominous warnings linked by a common denominator. These warnings came from all over the world, not just from the United States. The most obvious were:
1) The financial collapse of Greece and Iceland, and the declining financial condition of many other European nations.
2) Our government debt was suddenly accelerating to vast amounts with no end in sight.
3) Our government was printing money at an accelerating pace, far beyond our ability to back up the promises paper money represented.
4) The mortgage disaster transferred by far the largest amount of wealth away from middle class Americans in both dollars and as a percent. The actual wealth was transferred to the banking industry.
5) The skyrocketing price of gold and plunging value of the dollar.
6) China was profiting from vast amounts of exports to the US, and turning those profits into gold at an unprecedented rate.
7) Growth of our GDP had become stagnant.
8) New investment in US plants and equipment had virtually halted.
9) Many wealthy companies and individuals were switching the bulk of their investments from stocks in corporations to commodities like precious metals. Gold and silver mining companies were the main exceptions and to a lesser extent, energy and food companies.
NOTE: The total dollar loss of America’s personal wealth from 2006 to 2011 is estimated to be in excess of 29 trillion dollars. While the wealthy and those who had full equity in their homes (about 30% of homes) were able to weather the storm, most middle class Americans lost almost all of their savings and investment. (Their house represented their largest investment, usually all of their wealth) Put another way, the actual loss was substantially greater than the entire savings the 78 million baby boomers had put aside for their retirement. With 24% of home mortgages being under water (larger than equity), a huge portion of mostly middle class Americans were penniless—really.
One easily drawn conclusion was that this debacle was orchestrated by an administration and Congress obviously dedicated to the destruction of the wealth and independence of the middle class and ultimately, our economy. There is no way they could have done this by accident. No one could be that stupid. It had to be deliberate.
All of these facts were readily available to anyone looking for the information with an open mind.
The most common measure of the decline in the value of a dollar is the Consumer Price Index (CPI). The COLA (cost-of-living adjustment) is a very different number from the CPI since 1994 when the Clinton Administration, backed by a liberal Democrat Congress, removed food and fuel from the calculation of the COLA. Many employment contracts, pension benefits, and government entitlements (such as Social Security) are tied to the COLA as defined by Congress, not the cost-of-living index. Apparently liberals think the poor and elderly don’t need food or fuel. That change in the COLA, put into law by liberal Democrats, brought about the only reduction in Social Security payments ever. They scream a warning at seniors, “Republicans are going to cut your Social Security checks.” The truth is Democrats reduced SS checks by about 30%, several hundred dollars for most on Social Security. Why don’t you hear about that from the media? Hmmmmm?
In spite of media misinformation, most consumers are no longer fooled by government saying inflation is under control. They know that even the CPI does not accurately reflects the prices they are paying in such crucial areas as energy, food or medical care. (This disbelief is particularly strong among those living on a fixed income.) Indeed, when inflation is measured using the same statistical methods of past decades, it is far above 10%. Our government regularly releases numbers supporting their contentions about the economy, numbers bearing little relation to the realities the citizens now understand. You can only hoodwink the people for a short time. They are a lot smarter than government lackeys imagine them to be.
Democrats and the media have a new mantra of misinformation. They keep saying, “Obama’s policies have turned the economy around. We are now having a growing recovery.” Nothing could be farther from the truth. It's one more scam that some people are either too ignorant to see or are so hungry for good news of a recovery they want to believe such baloney. The media are certainly being dishonest about it. There is a growing consensus among thinking individuals that the media and Democrats are touting a recovery that doesn't exist. It is all being done for political gain for the left.
Most people in power will do absolutely anything they can get away with to stay in power, legal or not.
Government spokespersons support their pronouncements with their doctored numbers, but the real truth cannot be hidden for very long. Employment numbers for example: While unemployment numbers are easily manipulated, the government regularly publishes the number of those employed in the private sector. That number. the number employed in the private sector, has gone down every month since Obama took the oath of office and through January of 2012.
Are things really getting better? Are the prices for food and gasoline coming down? Are there gobs of new jobs? Is housing in a recovery? Are foreclosures down? Are wages going up? Are businesses expanding? Where are the statistics that say a recovery is underway?
My predictions for the future? They are not rosy. I have written about some of them as long as four years ago when I predicted Obama would be nominated and then elected in a Democrat landslide. At the same time I predicted a continuing depression (not recession) fueled and driven by government excesses and animosity toward business, the middle class, and any one successful in business or industry. In particular, class hatred would be used selectively against the "wealthy." Interestingly, those who gained their wealth in ways other than business or investment would be exempt from this class warfare. That included entertainers, sports figures, most of the professions, and of course, liberal politicians. Anyone who could be considered as a capitalist would be painted as an evil monster and placed in the cross hairs of leftists including the media.
Actually all this class warfare is a smoke screen to take the public's attention away from the real and present danger about to overtake our nation. Rather than try to explain it in my own words, I ran across a website that does a far better job than I could ever do. It has a video of a talk by Porter Stansberry, head of Stansberry & Associates Investment Research. It takes about ten minutes so be prepared. If you'd rather hide from a rather bad reality than learn how to prepare for it, don't bother looking. Of course, he’s trying to sell books so keep that in mind in judging his comments.
http://www.stansberryresearch.com/pro/1202CHINAPSI/LOILN228/PR
✸ ✸ ✸
Back to my predictions. To show clearly the new sections added in this update since my previous release of predictions, they are in verdana font, as is this line.
On Jan 14, 2011, at 8:39 PM, Howard Johnson wrote and sent the following email:
Dear family and friends:
In October of 2004 I emailed the following warning to most of you.
“Is a national mortgage collapse imminent? I am certainly no financial wizard and few people pay attention to my predictions, but I very accurately predicted the collapse of the PC market that led to the dot com debacle. I made some very accurate observations that were as plain as the nose on my face to me. Few people paid me any attention.
_______________________________________________
A NOTE, not in the original email: Among the few that did listen to my words was one gentleman in particular. He purchased a custom PC from me, and stopped in often to talk with me about the computer business. Some time after the dot com bust, when the economy was again on the upswing, he walked into my little PC store and handed me a check for $1,000.
“What’s this for?” I asked, wondering what he was going to buy.
“He smiled. “Because of the accurate information you gave me about the computer industry, I made several hundred thousand dollars in the stock market. That was some of the best financial advice I have ever received. That check is a small thank you for what your information did for me.”
____________________________________________________
Well, here I am again with a new prediction that to me is just as obvious. Some time ago, liberal Democrats in our government managed to remove all reasonable controls on mortgages in order to “make home ownership easier for all people.” As a result, the government’s Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac mortgage banks began providing mortgage money to finance increasingly risky mortgages. In addition, they started bringing pressures to bear on other banks to engage in the same practices. This resulted in a substantial run up in the price of housing and many new mortgage gimmicks like sub-prime and adjustable rate mortgages. Many of those home buyers planned to flip these homes in a rising market and make a profit. A rather large percentage of these buyers would not be able to pay their mortgages, especially when the second tier rates go up in a year or so. It was a risky process with the absolute certainty of dire consequences in the near future.
_____________________________________________________
Another NOTE, not in the original email: The banks knew this, government mortgage guarantors knew this, and those that ran Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac knew this. The powers behind these government entities as well as Countrywide Financial, Goldman Sachs, the Federal Reserve, HUD, Congress and the biggest players on Wall Street all knew this, but were motivated by pure greed. With the blessings, support, and complicity of liberals in Congress, most of the media, and a deliberately misinformed public, these self-serving men—and some women I’m sure—paid themselves huge fortunes and fleeced the soon-to-flounder mortgage industry of millions of dollars while causing losses for millions of people that totaled in the hundreds of billions, that’s billions with a “b.” They did this by changing the banking laws that policed the mortgage banks and prevented for a while just what happened when the laws were changed or not enforced at all. They did not care a bit about the damage they were causing the American people, mostly middle income citizens. These politicians brought about the largest loss of real wealth ever recorded. Ironically, their actions caused the movement of more wealth out of the possession of the 99% and into the possession of those in the 1% than had ever moved in either direction in all of American history. The occupy whatever movement should be targeting liberal Democrats who are directly responsible for this debacle. Their actions were certainly more criminal than what the officers of Enron did, yet incredibly, none were even called on the carpet. Should you want to learn the truth about this monstrous swindle, backed by legal records and undeniable facts, read Reckless Endangerment by Gretchen Morgenson and Joshua Rosner.
Here’s what Bill Moyers said of this book, “Gretchen Morgenson, my nominee for Reporter of the Decade and the equally talented Joshua Rosner, show how American taxpayers were suckered by the shenanigans, greed, egos, back-scratching, and guile of financial and political elites who swarmed like vultures around Fannie Mae, picking it clean of oversight and accountability while its executives gorged themselves on the spoils. Naming names and taking no prisoners, they drill deep into one of the most disturbing scandals of our time, perpetrated in the name of helping ‘the little guy.’ Read it and weep.
Read it and vow: Never again!”
Under the mantra, “Expanding the American dream of home ownership,” these liberal thieves doled out millions to their co-conspirators while pocketing millions for themselves. Jim Johnson arranged bonuses for himself of several hundred millions while president of Fannie Mae. His successor, Bill Clinton protégée, Franklin Raines, took bonuses of $90,000,000 as Johnson’s successor even as Fannie Mae was going bankrupt. The sycophant media reported, “He graciously agreed to return the $90,000,000.” They never reported that not a red cent of that money was ever actually returned. I wonder why? Hmmmmm?
Another update January, 2015:
In case you hadn't noticed, just a few days ago Obama issued another dictatorial presidential order that lowered the requirements for home loans, "So everyone will be able to buy a home." The paraphrased words of Obama.
That is exactly what precipitated the mortgage collapse of 2008 and cost middle class Americans almost everything they had. "Doesn't any one remember that?"
- End of update note insert.
“I believe that because of these practices, housing prices will eventually stop rising and start going down. This will begin accelerating as people begin defaulting on their high risk loans. When this happens, prices of homes will begin dropping precipitously. The mortgage market will very quickly begin to collapse as home owners suddenly find their mortgages are much larger than the new, declining value of their houses, and buyers will be few, even at lower prices..This will then cause the economy to begin shrinking as construction will almost stop. The resulting job losses will then expand, the stock market will crash, and we will be in a major recession. It could even be worse than the great depression that began with the crash of 1929. Consider yourselves forewarned.” - End of 2004 prediction.
2015 comment: In a few years the same collapse will happen again unless somehow Obama's executive order is reversed. Another frightening scenario, in the last quarter of the year, and for the first time since the depression of the thirties, more businesses have gone out of existence, ceased operations, than were started. That doesn't sound much like we are in a recovery to me. I think the so-called recovery is a myth, an euphemism foisted off on the ignorant public by a less than honest administration.
HoJo’s Predictions - Some Personal Reactions and Responses - updated to 6-03-2012
Since the late 1990s I have made a number of predictions based on what I saw coming in the business and political environments. Few people paid any attention to my predictions. Subsequent events proved my predictions amazingly accurate, at least in a general sense. Still, this seemed not to impress anyone or at least very few. This little booklet, and the BLOG with the same title, were written with the same content. It recounts some of those predictions and when they were made. At the time they were made, each was documented in my HJRants blog and by providing written copies to several groups of people and emails to my contacts. I’ll wager few people paid any attention to them at the time. Most will probably ignore or reject my latest predictions like they did the earlier ones.
At least two years ago I began noticing what to me seemed to be obvious warnings of another kind, ominous warnings linked by a common denominator. These warnings came from all over the world, not just from the United States. The most obvious were:
1) The financial collapse of Greece and Iceland, and the declining financial condition of many other European nations.
2) Our government debt was suddenly accelerating to vast amounts with no end in sight.
3) Our government was printing money at an accelerating pace, far beyond our ability to back up the promises paper money represented.
4) The mortgage disaster transferred by far the largest amount of wealth away from middle class Americans in both dollars and as a percent. The actual wealth was transferred to the banking industry.
5) The skyrocketing price of gold and plunging value of the dollar.
6) China was profiting from vast amounts of exports to the US, and turning those profits into gold at an unprecedented rate.
7) Growth of our GDP had become stagnant.
8) New investment in US plants and equipment had virtually halted.
9) Many wealthy companies and individuals were switching the bulk of their investments from stocks in corporations to commodities like precious metals. Gold and silver mining companies were the main exceptions and to a lesser extent, energy and food companies.
NOTE: The total dollar loss of America’s personal wealth from 2006 to 2011 is estimated to be in excess of 29 trillion dollars. While the wealthy and those who had full equity in their homes (about 30% of homes) were able to weather the storm, most middle class Americans lost almost all of their savings and investment. (Their house represented their largest investment, usually all of their wealth) Put another way, the actual loss was substantially greater than the entire savings the 78 million baby boomers had put aside for their retirement. With 24% of home mortgages being under water (larger than equity), a huge portion of mostly middle class Americans were penniless—really.
One easily drawn conclusion was that this debacle was orchestrated by an administration and Congress obviously dedicated to the destruction of the wealth and independence of the middle class and ultimately, our economy. There is no way they could have done this by accident. No one could be that stupid. It had to be deliberate.
All of these facts were readily available to anyone looking for the information with an open mind.
The most common measure of the decline in the value of a dollar is the Consumer Price Index (CPI). The COLA (cost-of-living adjustment) is a very different number from the CPI since 1994 when the Clinton Administration, backed by a liberal Democrat Congress, removed food and fuel from the calculation of the COLA. Many employment contracts, pension benefits, and government entitlements (such as Social Security) are tied to the COLA as defined by Congress, not the cost-of-living index. Apparently liberals think the poor and elderly don’t need food or fuel. That change in the COLA, put into law by liberal Democrats, brought about the only reduction in Social Security payments ever. They scream a warning at seniors, “Republicans are going to cut your Social Security checks.” The truth is Democrats reduced SS checks by about 30%, several hundred dollars for most on Social Security. Why don’t you hear about that from the media? Hmmmmm?
In spite of media misinformation, most consumers are no longer fooled by government saying inflation is under control. They know that even the CPI does not accurately reflects the prices they are paying in such crucial areas as energy, food or medical care. (This disbelief is particularly strong among those living on a fixed income.) Indeed, when inflation is measured using the same statistical methods of past decades, it is far above 10%. Our government regularly releases numbers supporting their contentions about the economy, numbers bearing little relation to the realities the citizens now understand. You can only hoodwink the people for a short time. They are a lot smarter than government lackeys imagine them to be.
Democrats and the media have a new mantra of misinformation. They keep saying, “Obama’s policies have turned the economy around. We are now having a growing recovery.” Nothing could be farther from the truth. It's one more scam that some people are either too ignorant to see or are so hungry for good news of a recovery they want to believe such baloney. The media are certainly being dishonest about it. There is a growing consensus among thinking individuals that the media and Democrats are touting a recovery that doesn't exist. It is all being done for political gain for the left.
Most people in power will do absolutely anything they can get away with to stay in power, legal or not.
They support their pronouncements with their doctored numbers, but the real truth cannot be hidden for very long. Employment numbers for example: While unemployment numbers are easily manipulated, the government regularly publishes the number of those employed in the private sector. That number. the number employed in the private sector, has gone down every month since Obama took the oath of office and through January of 2012. Are things really getting better? Are the prices for food and gasoline coming down? Are there gobs of new jobs? Is housing in a recovery? Are foreclosures down? Are wages going up? Are businesses expanding? Where are the statistics that say a recovery is underway?
My predictions for the future? They are not rosy. I have written about some of them as long as four years ago when I predicted Obama would be nominated and then elected in a Democrat landslide. At the same time I predicted a continuing depression (not recession) fueled and driven by government excesses and animosity toward business, the middle class, and any one successful in business or industry. In particular, class hatred would be used selectively against the "wealthy." Interestingly, those who gained their wealth in ways other than business or investment would be exempt from this class warfare. That included entertainers, sports figures, most of the professions, and of course, liberal politicians. Anyone who could be considered as a capitalist would be painted as an evil monster and placed in the cross hairs of leftists including the media.
Actually all this class warfare is a smoke screen to take the public's attention away from the real and present danger about to overtake our nation. Rather than try to explain it in my own words, I ran across a website that does a far better job than I could ever do. It has a video of a talk by Porter Stansberry, head of Stansberry & Associates Investment Research. It takes about ten minutes so be prepared. If you'd rather hide from a rather bad reality than learn how to prepare for it, don't bother looking. Of course, he’s trying to sell books so keep that in mind in judging his comments.
http://www.stansberryresearch.com/pro/1202CHINAPSI/LOILN228/PR
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Back to my predictions. To show clearly the new sections added in this update since my previous release of predictions, they are in verdana font, as is this line.
On Jan 14, 2011, at 8:39 PM, Howard Johnson wrote and sent the following email:
Dear family and friends:
In October of 2004 I emailed the following warning to most of you.
“Is a national mortgage collapse imminent? I am certainly no financial wizard and few people pay attention to my predictions, but I very accurately predicted the collapse of the PC market that led to the dot com debacle. I made some very accurate observations that were as plain as the nose on my face to me. Few people paid me any attention.
A NOTE, not in the original email: Among the few that did listen to my words was one gentleman in particular. He purchased a custom PC from me, and stopped in often to talk with me about the computer business. Some time after the dot com bust, when the economy was again on the upswing, he walked into my little PC store and handed me a check for $1,000.
“What’s this for?” I asked, wondering what he was going to buy.
“He smiled. “Because of the accurate information you gave me about the computer industry, I made several hundred thousand dollars in the stock market. That was some of the best financial advice I have ever received. That check is a small thank you for what your information did for me.”
Well, here I am again with a new prediction that to me is just as obvious. Some time ago, liberal Democrats in our government managed to remove all reasonable controls on mortgages in order to “make home ownership easier for all people.” As a result, the government’s Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac mortgage banks began providing mortgage money to finance increasingly risky mortgages. In addition, they started bringing pressures to bear on other banks to engage in the same practices. This resulted in a substantial run up in the price of housing and many new mortgage gimmicks like sub-prime and adjustable rate mortgages. Many of those home buyers planned to flip these homes in a rising market and make a profit. A rather large percentage of these buyers would not be able to pay their mortgages, especially when the second tier rates go up in a year or so. It was a risky process with the absolute certainty of dire consequences in the near future.
Another NOTE, not in the original email: The banks knew this, government mortgage guarantors knew this, and those that ran Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac knew this. The powers behind these government entities as well as Countrywide Financial, Goldman Sachs, the Federal Reserve, HUD, Congress and the biggest players on Wall Street all knew this, but were motivated by pure greed. With the blessings, support, and complicity of liberals in Congress, most of the media, and a deliberately misinformed public, these self-serving men—and some women I’m sure—paid themselves huge fortunes and fleeced the soon-to-flounder mortgage industry of millions of dollars while causing losses for millions of people that totaled in the hundreds of billions, that’s billions with a “b.” They did this by changing the banking laws that policed the mortgage banks and prevented for a while just what happened when the laws were changed or not enforced at all. They did not care a bit about the damage they were causing the American people, mostly middle income citizens. These politicians brought about the largest loss of real wealth ever recorded. Ironically, their actions caused the movement of more wealth out of the possession of the 99% and into the possession of those in the 1% than had ever moved in either direction in all of American history. The occupy whatever movement should be targeting liberal Democrats who are directly responsible for this debacle. Their actions were certainly more criminal than what the officers of Enron did, yet incredibly, none were even called on the carpet. Should you want to learn the truth about this monstrous swindle, backed by legal records and undeniable facts, read Reckless Endangerment by Gretchen Morgenson and Joshua Rosner.
Here’s what Bill Moyers said of this book, “Gretchen Morgenson, my nominee for Reporter of the Decade and the equally talented Joshua Rosner, show how American taxpayers were suckered by the shenanigans, greed, egos, back-scratching, and guile of financial and political elites who swarmed like vultures around Fannie Mae, picking it clean of oversight and accountability while its executives gorged themselves on the spoils. Naming names and taking no prisoners, they drill deep into one of the most disturbing scandals of our time, perpetrated in the name of helping ‘the little guy.’ Read it and weep. Read it and vow: Never again!”
Under the mantra, “Expanding the American dream of home ownership,” these liberal thieves doled out millions to their co-conspirators while pocketing millions for themselves. Jim Johnson arranged bonuses for himself of several hundred millions while president of Fannie Mae. His successor, Bill Clinton protégée, Franklin Raines, took bonuses of $90,000,000 as Johnson’s successor even as Fannie Mae was going bankrupt. The sycophant media reported, “He graciously agreed to return the $90,000,000.” They never reported that not a red cent of that money was ever actually returned. I wonder why? Hmmmmm?
Oh yes, who were the politicians that most benefitted from support and money from those arranging this grossly damaging debacle? Try Barney Frank, Chris Dodd, and then Senator, Barack Obama. I wonder why the main stream media reported almost none of this huge rip off of the American tax payer? Hmmmmm? - End of update note insert.
“I believe that because of these practices, housing prices will eventually stop rising and start going down. This will begin accelerating as people begin defaulting on their high risk loans. When this happens, prices of homes will begin dropping precipitously. The mortgage market will very quickly begin to collapse as home owners suddenly find their mortgages are much larger than the new, declining value of their houses, and buyers will be few, even at lower prices..This will then cause the economy to begin shrinking as construction will almost stop. The resulting job losses will then expand, the stock market will crash, and we will be in a major recession. It could even be worse than the great depression that began with the crash of 1929. Consider yourselves forewarned.” - End of 2004 prediction.
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January 2011 comments: Few people paid attention to my warning because, who am I to have the audacity to predict such things. I have no string of letters after my name or other accomplishments to back up my predictions. (I do have a proven record of accurate predictions.) Despite this, I am now warning you of another financial disaster I see in our future—our very near future. Once more, the media, the pundits, politicians, and especially the government, are not talking about it. I think this is a deliberate deception for reasons only known to those who refuse to tell the truth of the situation.
More than 100 cities in the US are now bankrupt. Six states are in even worse condition and 27 others may be bankrupt this year. The federal government cannot bail them out because the federal government is virtually bankrupt as well. The government is printing money as fast as the presses will run. All that does is dilute the value of the existing dollars and scare hell out of our creditors.
I’m certain you all notice the rapidly rising cost of food and fuel, the lifeblood of our economy. With deficits in the trillions, we will soon reach the place where if all of us were taxed at 100% of income it would not be enough to balance our budget. During the last sixty years, the US has moved from the world’s largest creditor nation to become the world’s largest debtor.
The Chinese and the Arabs are about to pull the plug. Both have slowed their buying of US treasury notes and are talking of switching to another currency. When, not if, that happens, it will yank the rug out from under our economy as the cost of imports will skyrocket. This collapse has already started as evidenced by the accelerating rises in the prices of precious metals and oil. Today (February 2012) oil passed $105 per barrel, up from $91 earlier in the month. At that rate it will reach $125 soon. The price of gasoline at the pump flew by $3 per gallon months ago and will probably reach $5 by the end of the coming summer. It was about $1.65 a few years ago so it has almost tripled in that time. Food prices are following a similar accelerating pace. Look for cereal to cost $5-$6 a box in six to eight months. (Some long past $5 are already pushing $6 a box.) Everything else will do much the same.
It is interesting to note that Bill Clinton, aided by his first liberal Democrat Congress, removed food and fuel prices from the federal COLA (cost of living allowance) used to calculate Social Security payments. Had this been left as it was, most Social Security payments would today be almost 30% more than they are now. Democrats reduced Social Security substantially, while at the same time warning the elderly that “Republicans are planning to reduce your Social Security checks.” I wonder why the MSM (Main Stream Media) never mentioned that fact? Hmmmm!
Also in recent years, unemployment has been estimated by counting those receiving unemployment checks. Real unemployment, the way it was counted before 1970 is the number who can work, but don’t have a job. Today this is about double the number the government reports. 18% would be a far more accurate number than what we get from Washington. True unemployment can be calculated by by comparing the number of employed (a number readily available) with the available workforce. (another number readily available) Incidentally, the number of private sector employees has dropped steadily all during Obama’s presidency, This means that in spite of all the claims of job creation, more private sector jobs have disappeared than new ones were created almost every month since Obama took office. To me, it verges on criminal that the main stream media does not inform the public of these facts. I wonder why? Hmmmmm!
I suggest you try to find ways to protect yourself from the mayhem that will follow the economic collapse of our federal government. There could be food riots in many major cities as merchants begin refusing food stamps and credit cards, knowing they will never be paid. As the government runs out of money and the value of the dollar plummets, it will make the “great depression” look like a cake walk. These things are already happening in Europe. Greece. Ireland, and Iceland have already collapsed and six other European nations will soon follow. All of these things are the direct result of the growth of liberal socialist policies foisted on us by the extreme left that now controls the Democrat party.
Be prepared for your government to take over your retirement account. Some members of Congress are already considering this. Then there are your bank accounts, your investments, your home. If they can take your IRA (in exchange for soon to be worthless government notes) they can also take anything else you own. Until Republicans became a majority in the House and put a stop to it, Congress was writing the laws and regulations that would have given them the right to do so. Who says might doesn’t make right? They continue to try to abrogate our “right to bear arms” while they have the guns and handcuffs to enforce their laws. As Robert Heinlin said, “When only the police have guns it’s called a police state.”
I am sure that many of you will say, “That can’t happen here.” How many of you thought that when I accurately predicted the dot com bust? Or how about the mortgage meltdown? Did my predictions even register with you? I’d really like to hear from you regarding my predictions. Don’t say it won’t happen simply because it hasn’t happened before. If you don’t like my prediction and choose a rebuttal, please do not use platitudes, euphemisms, and emotional clap-trap. Use facts and figures—real figures. While you are at it, look at the lessons of history. You might also tell me how the Greeks are going to solve their economic problems, or the Icelanders, or Spanish, or Californians.
I have the answer, but I doubt the short-sighted among our voters will ever let it happen here.
Ho
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On Fri, Jan 14, 2011 at 11:40 PM, One of my very dear friends responded:
Ho,
You are so interesting. Below is not the person I have in my mind. Doom and gloom. What's your point? Does this help? Liberals versus conservatives. If there were no liberals, would it be the perfect world? If conservatives ran the world, our economy would be great and our future bright? It is greed that gets us into these sorts of problems. I wish it were so simple as being conservative or liberal. And I can't help but to get the feeling that you enjoy being right about your predictions and would take a certain amount of satisfaction watching our country's demise as you describe below. How does this letter help me? What should I do? My day was not so good. Thanks for making it worse.
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Dear friend,
I’m quite sorry I messed up your day. But why castigate me? I'm merely a messenger
I want you to know how I treasure your responses to my rants. I read them carefully and try to digest what you have to say. You are one of those few people who question me and work to keep me on track and I appreciate it. I think you may have missed my point. Possibly because I didn't make it clear enough. Besides, I am actually an optimist.
The dichotomous and emotional positions of liberal vs conservative ignores reality and removes most rational conclusions about what is happening to our nation and what should be done about it. And yes, for a multitude of reasons I believe that application of liberal, socialist ideas, the proven destructive policies of the left, are responsible for much of the mess we are now in and for the coming, even more damaging debacle. I hear few ideas from liberal Democrats that address the real problems either. It is always my hope that the public, even all humanity, will see what's coming and take the necessary steps to either correct for it, or adapt to it. Sadly, those steps often come too late or are never taken. If I remember, I will attach a little thing I wrote about problems and how they are used. It sort if relates to this whole thing.
No, I certainly do not hope that this will happen. I will certainly take no joy in my predictions being correct. Unfortunately there are many sound reasons I make this prediction. I do not think our politicians on either side have a clue what to do. If they do, they are ignoring their own knowledge. I believe that as a people, Americans have become so luxury loving, self serving, irresponsible, and real work hating that we will not make the hard decisions necessary to stop the train wrecks such as the one we are already in the midst of. I certainly take no joy in my predictions being correct. I hope and pray that I am very mistaken.
Several people profited greatly from my earlier warnings by taking actions based on my predictions. One person sold most of his investments in computer companies when I told him of the coming PC business crash. He told me that my comments saved him from losing hundreds of thousands. Instead, he made money by changing his investment strategy. Even though he was just an acquaintance, he handed me a check for a thousand dollars in appreciation saying, "That's the cheapest good financial advice I have ever received." I was amazed. I know of no other such dramatic beneficiary.
Another friend, who had just sold his house for a handsome price and huge profit, was negotiating the purchase of a larger home when he read my prediction about the mortgage market. After looking further into what was happening, he decided not to buy right away and moved into a rental house. He called me several years later to tell me he just bought a home for around $200,000 that would have cost nearly twice that amount had he bought right after selling. He thanked me for warning him. I’m sure he didn't do that on my say so alone. He probably studied the situation and sought advice of several people in the mortgage business before making his decision to wait. He saw my words not as gloom and doom, but as a positive—a valid warning. Oh, and several of those in the real estate and mortgage business laughed when he told them of my predictions. (They were probably trying to sell him a big expensive house.)
My point is to warn people of the menace that is coming their way so they can prepare. It is far better to prepare for a calamity and not have it happen than not to prepare. There are some relatively simple and inexpensive precautions one can take to minimize the damage in any calamity. I assume you have insurance of several types and that your car has seat belts and even airbags. How about considering a little insurance against this probable catastrophe. Oh, I am not selling such insurance so my motive is not to profit.
If I warned you about a train coming loudly down the tracks where you were sitting—if you then noticed the great noise it was making and heard its loud horn, would you consider my words as doom and gloom? If you lived in tornado country and someone warned you of an approaching tornado would you call that doom and gloom? I think not.
Well, the noise from the coming disaster is deafening, if you listen for it. There is a great deal a person can do to prepare. There are even books written about it. A six month supply of staple foods is a good way to start, as long as you tell no one about it. A batch of candles or a stash of flashlight batteries would not be a bad idea should the electric grid fail. There are even flashlights you can crank to charge their batteries. I would even suggest a quantity of bottled water if you don’t have a well These inexpensive preparations are minimal and will not go to waste. Necessary medicines are another thing that a six month supply would not be prohibitively expensive and wouldn’t take up much room. A cache of silver or gold might be another, just in case paper money becomes useless. Just think about it. These are preparations you would not lose as you could use them from your supply and then replenish as you go along until things go bad. Some of these things we already have as part of our preparations for a possible hurricane here in Florida..
I warn people because I care about them. I want them to be able to prepare, not wring their hands in despair after a disaster happens. Do you think it would be better if I kept silent?
Ho
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Hello, NOTE: I have inserted some of my own comments in italics.
Sorry for my delay in responding. We are in the midst of a blizzard warning and it made me realize I had not responded. Below makes me feel a little better but I still don't see the person that I met in your writings. Your predictions remind me so much of my own mother who is talking about a revolution (by black folks) etc. Plus all one has to do is listen to Fox radio and hear the same predictions so nothing new in these predictions.
1 (Actually, my predictions are quite different in detail from those on Fox. Similar in the main, but the devil is in the details.)
I am surprised that you describe the problems so simply and without nuances. You blame everything on liberals.
2 (No, I merely look at the results, the actual realities. Places where liberals and unions, (in particular government employee unions) have the most power, are always in the most financial difficulty. It was certainly not conservative efforts that drove textiles, then steel, then autos overseas, or bankrupted California, Michigan, New York and other states.)
A remark that changed my outlook forever was a statement made by a German man who gave tours at Dachau (sp?). A young American guy told him that he had heard that the Nazi women were even more vicious than the Nazi men and wanted to know if this was true. This tour guide looked at this young man and told him that the reason he took the 7AM train every morning and did these tours in his retirement was that he wanted people to realize that all of us are capable of the atrocities that were done by the Germans in that era. That in the right circumstances we all have the capability to behave so poorly. In that tour I learned what I never learned in the history lessons in the USA.....that Germany had never recovered after WW1 and there was extreme poverty in the country.
3 (In high school history, we studied the Weimar republic and what happened to Germany after WWI along with many other parts of history that describe exactly what you say our dumbed-down schools of later years did not teach. I wonder what group was responsible for that change?)
I find it so interesting that Americans living in their fancy homes and driving their fancy cars can make so many judgments of people that live in conditions that they cannot possibly even imagine. Instead of being grateful we are judgmental.
4 (Maybe your generation, but not mine. You don’t know or forget that I grew up during the depression when our “fancy” car was a five year old Nash, we had several dirt streets in our neighborhood and I learned to eat quickly if I hoped to get any of the meager seconds Mom put on the table. Christmas was the only time we had oranges, tangerines, or candy, and I was nine the first time we could afford to have a turkey for Thanksgiving. My buddies and I regularly prowled the trash cans in the neighborhood looking for discarded things we could fix and play with. My first and only real bicycle was one I rescued from the trash. It took me at least three months to earn enough from my paper route to buy the parts to fix it up so it was useable. I rode that bike for five years, constantly fixing and repainting it until it looked really good. I sold it for $15 when I graduated from high school. Thanks to my father’s hard work and realistic appraisal of what was happening, we were far better off than most. That’s my reality and we were very grateful for what we had.)
Having digressed a bit I guess my point is this. WE are the reason for the problems. There were so many layers to the mortgage problems that had nothing to do with being liberal or conservative.
5 (I’m assuming by “WE” you mean your relatively “liberal” or “middle of the road” generation. It wasn’t conservatives that forced banks to write mortgages to folks they knew would never be able to pay for. It wasn’t conservatives that ran Fannie May and Freddie Mac into bankruptcy. It wasn’t conservatives that paid Clinton protégé and Fannie May President, Franklin Raines $90 million in bonuses even as this government entity was going bankrupt. It wasn’t conservatives who were given large amounts of cash for their campaigns by Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac.)
The common denominator was greed and denial. And we all benefitted from the stupidity that was going on. (No, all of us didn’t, and the common denominator of greed and denial at the top was almost exclusively liberal Democrats buying votes and power with tax payers’ money.) In my case, it was the great returns that I was getting from the stock market and the low interest rates that allowed us to buy a nicer home than we would have been able to buy in the 80's. Thankfully we were experienced consumers and did not end up like a lot of folks did. But I wonder. Had I been buying my first home at the ripe age of 23 (as was the case in 1983) would I have done the right thing? We looked to the bank and the realtor to tell us what sort of home we could afford. Also in 1990 when we bought our second home we were guided by the realtor and bank as to what we could afford. When we bought homes in 2001 and 2007 we were shown homes that were valued at more than 100,000 dollars more than the value of the homes that we eventually bought. And the hint that was given by the realtors......that other people in our salary range were living in much nicer homes. Now, because we humans could not do the right thing, the government will step in with more regulations. And many of those regulations will be just plain stupid. But the people working in the industry nor the consumers were capable of guiding themselves. (They would have been capable if parents and government schools and labor unions taught responsibility and self reliance, but no, they taught greed, self service, irresponsibility, and victimhood.)
My predictions for the future are not the same as yours. I predict that health care and education will be the next "crisis". And why? (Those are both way past crisis stages already. Education has been going downhill for at least the last fifty years. Obamacare will devastate the best and most comprehensive health care system in the world and probably double the total cost of the system.) Because the so called professionals that work in those fields have let greed and denial guide them also. Take my profession. Hospitals have made money from PT's and abused situations where therapy gets involved. Many times I am just pushing an IV pole as someone walks down the hallway. This could easily be done by an aide. So instead of aides walking patients, physical therapy is ordered. This drove up the need for therapists and thus salaries and in the end more expensive for hospitals. Now the government has stepped in with regulations which limits this activity. There has also has been extensive fraud of therapy in various settings which has had to be limited also.
6. (I’ll wager the total of that fraud pales in comparison to proven Medicare fraud. Criminal Medicare fraud in Florida alone was in the billions with statewide criminal organizations taking most of the money in highly organized schemes. When the newly elected Republican Governor, backed by the legislature, clamped down on this fraud, liberals in the legislature and some media jerks did everything they could to thwart these efforts. One can’t help but wonder, were they recipients of some of this illegal money from these criminal organizations?)
Some of the regs are absolutely ridiculous and actually hurt the patient more than help. However, it was just human nature that created this whole mess and we were unable to guide ourselves. (Is human nature a new name for deliberate thievery?) And there are so many other areas of waste in healthcare especially with end of life care. People will lose a dignified death if too many doctors become involved in a case. I have a friend who is a pediatric oncologist. She told me her nickname is Dr. Death. She has the highest number of patients die on her shift. The reason........she explains exactly what is involved with a lot of care and the eventual outcome. She says that many doctors view death as failure and will go to extremes to prevent a patient from dying on their shift. Ironically, she takes her nickname as Dr. Death as a compliment. All of this talk of death panels killed the conversation that needed to be had in this area. I think we are just starting to see the beginning in Arizona where the governor stopped all transplants for it's Medicaid recipients as the state can no longer afford it. And what do most people think? Well those people are on Medicaid/State aid. It won't happen to me. Well guess what? It will happen to everyone. Health care will have to be "rationed". Our technology is too expensive and our ability to keep dying people alive is too good. And now add obesity to the problem. We simply cannot afford it. There will be an adjustment. And we will probably blame each other and it will be very political. In the end I think it may be better. I think it will make people live a healthier lifestyle. That obese patient who is denied dialysis because of her poor prognosis related to her weight will make people take note of their own weight. But there will be lots of outcry first. And people in the USA get so many unnecessary medical treatments that only make the quality of their life worse. This waste will have to stop and the patient will be better off.
7. (A lot of this would take care of itself if it wasn’t completely free! A small local hospital near my home in Indiana cut the waste and abuses of their emergency room by charging each patient a $5 cash fee for every patient who used the emergency room. Of course, some people refused to pay and were treated anyway, but the hassle helped cut useless ER visits down to almost none and the hospital made much better use of its ER. Oh yes, all that free stuff the government provides? We’ve already reached the point where those who pay for that free stuff will not be able to pay for it all even if taxed at 100%.)
As far as education goes, I can't explain it like my husband can who was in the field from the mid 80's to 2007. (You can very easily see the effect the teachers union has had on education by what’s happening in Wisconsin and elsewhere. The union bosses would rather have half their members laid off than give up a tiny part of their income to keep them all working. They also hate to give up the millions they reap from overpriced services provided to school systems by their exclusive control of the purchase of these services that Republicans have now opened to competition.)
But back to your emails. I can appreciate the entertainment in provoking people. But there are some difficult issues ahead of us. And when people of your intellect only add to the problem, well, I lose my patience. Your emails mostly promote blame. (Do you call looking at the causes of a problem promoting blame? Letting those who are the direct cause of the problems continue to direct solutions is insanity, but isn’t that what you are proposing?) And yes, I can hear you say that you offer solutions but they start off with a lot of blame and putting people on the defense. Problems will not be solved with this strategy. Your emails also many times just address one side to an issue. Again, someone of your intellect should be able to see both sides and the nuances. Makes me think of an article that I read that promoted staying involved in Afghanistan. Then I read another article that discussed all the reasons to leave Afghanistan. Both had very good points. Big problems are complex. My concern now is that there is so much negative communication out there. Yours and my generation did not grow up with all the negativity and inflamed news stories that run 24/7 now. Someone with you age, experience, intellect, and most importantly, the ability to articulate should be offering encouragement to the next generation. Assuring them they have the ability to solve these problems. That we have faced many problems in the past and overcame them. It doesn't matter if there is a black, yellow. or purple president, or that Congress is liberal or conservative. (Eau contraire!) What matters is us. And talking about people taking up their guns and taking your money just does not help us. Those worries are better kept from the written word and forwarded to lots of people.
8. (The first step in finding a solution to any problem is to define the problem. Once the problem is defined, the next step is to use that definition to find a solution. If you interpret defining a problem as placing blame, you own the problem. I can’t help it if the truth puts people on the defensive. That’s one of the realities of life.
I do not buy that there are two sides to every problem. There is only one side to a person who is drowning. Get them out of the water and give them air to breathe. There is only one side to any organization, group or whatever when they are drowning in debt, stop spending more than they take in. There is much more in my full response after the end of your message.)
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Among the folklore of some native American Algonkians, there is a belief that the five days when the moon is high in the sky near mid morning, are days of big troubles. This moon is called Wakiapah Tibik-kìzis in the local Algonquian dialect. This translates roughly into High Morning Moon. The danger rises with the gibbous moon, two days before the half moon of the third quarter and continues for the two days after. During this period, the worst day is the middle one when the half moon stands at the zenith at sunrise. Many researchers think this belief originated around women’s menstrual period. During these days, believers will not plant any crops, hunt, fight wars, or conduct any business. They will, however, defend themselves if attacked.
The story takes place around labor day in modern times during these days when the morning moon rides high. Its locale is in an area of Indiana rich in the lore and history of the Algonquian tribes, mainly Miami and Potawatomi. An unlikely mix of characters lead a retired Chicago homicide detective on a confusing set of activities. Ragan Yoder grew up on the lake as did I. He returned to his boyhood home when he retired, but was soon the principal homicide detective in Kosciusko County where much of the action takes place. His home is the home my parents built in 1958 where I lived for more than twenty-five years. That makes it easy for me to describe in the book.
As of this moment, the book is partially written, having about a hundred pages. I started it on a whim when Daphne and I were in Hawaii. That’s where I took the photo that is the cover. If history is any indicator, it will take me two years to write and polish the story. I must say that so far it has been a great pleasure writing such a different and plausible story so unlike the hard science fiction I usually write. Also, it seems to be progressing much quicker than my previous works. Maybe I’ll finish it in a single year. Only time will tell.
Prologue - A Serious Happening
Deputy Gordon Genoa of the Kosciusko County Sheriff’s Department was headed north on State Road 15 toward Milford when the call came in from his dispatcher, Ellen Cross.
“What? . . . A badly injured woman . . . . On the beach at the Tippy Dance Hall . . . . I should be there in less than eight minutes.”
He flipped on his lights, took a right at the funeral home on 900 N and headed for the dance hall some eight miles away. It was a cool clear Labor Day, just before dawn with a waning moon rising high in the eastern sky. Ellen reported that an EMS vehicle was also en route, but that he would get there first. The Indiana State Police had been notified, but their nearest available unit was nearly half an hour away. She then continued giving him the information she had. Early in the morning, two young boys going out fishing found her near their boat.
A run east on E 900N, a hard right turn on 300 E, a run due south, the curvy road through woods past Lake Oswego, a sharp left over the Tippecanoe River onto Armstrong Road and through the sleepy little town of Oswego, another left through the old brick gateway that used to be called Cripplegate, down the short narrow road to the dance hall parking lot and he was there. Driving as fast as was safe, he made the trip in a bit over six minutes.
There was a small group of people and one car with headlights turned on at the edge of the lake at the far northwest corner of the lot. He drove right up to the shore with headlights illuminating the scene, stepped out and trotted over to the group surrounding the woman. She was lying on a blanket and covered with another that someone had provided. A woman was kneeling, holding a bloody compress against her head and trying to comfort the injured woman. The victim’s face was a bloody mess. She had been badly beaten and cut up some. A quick examination and he determined all the blood was coming from her face. Most of it from a nasty slice extending from the right side of her chin, up in front of her ear and then clear across her head. The cut across her head was quite deep and bleeding profusely. He found no other deep wounds or heavy bleeding elsewhere. He contacted Ellen and reported his findings.
“What’s your name?” he asked the woman kneeling by the injured woman.
“Annabel, Annabel Rheem. I’m the mother of the boys who found her. They were frightened to death, but ran right home and got us. My husband immediately called 911.”
“You all certainly did the right thing. They are good boys. Did they tell you what they saw when they found her?”
“They were headed out fishing. That’s our boat right there on the beach. She was crawling up the beach on her hands and knees. Stark naked she was, and so bloody. Both boys were crying and terribly frightened. I called the neighbors here and we brought some blankets for her to lie on and to cover her up and keep her warm. Lois, our neighbor brought us this compress we used to try to stop the bleeding.”
“You did good. There’s an EMS coming within the next few minutes. Since she doesn’t seem to have any other serious wounds, we’ll just try to stop the bleeding as much as we can until EMS gets here. Did she say anything? Anything at all?”
“The poor thing mumbled something we couldn’t understand when we moved her onto the blanket and covered her up. She was shivering so terribly, shaking so hard we could hardly keep that blanket on her. Harold went in to fix something warm for her to drink. She’s so young, Will she be OK?”
The siren of the ambulance announced it would soon be on the scene with the emergency medical team. “That’s the EMS now. Maybe they can answer that question.”
Deputy Genoa marked off the crime scene and shooed everyone away from it. He let Annabel stay with the injured woman. “Everyone move back please. Could someone move that car so the EMS can have room to do their work?”
He had parked his cruiser so there was plenty of room. The car was moved almost immediately. Within a few minutes the medics were doing their thing. Once they determined she could be moved, two of them brought out the Gurney, placed her on it and put her into the ambulance. The medics would do what they could to stabilize her on the way to Kosciusko Community Hospital twelve miles away. A deputy would be at the hospital to question her when the doctors would allow it.
As Deputy Genoa finished securing the area around where she was found, he turned to the group of seven neighbors. “Did any of you hear or see anything?”
One man stepped forward. “I heard the motor of a powerboat, a loud, powerful V8 motor. Woke me up. It is unusual to hear that kind of boat so early in the day, and taking off fast too. No one is suppose to go fast at this time of day. It was still dark. Without that moon just rising, you can’t see nothin’ on the lake.”
“I heard it too.” Annabel said. “Just about the time I was waking the boys up to go fishing. They do love to fish. I hope this doesn’t make them afraid to go fishing. I need to go tend to them. Is it alright, officer?”
“Go ahead. I will talk with you and your boys later. Please try to remember what she mumbled to you. It could be important.”
Deputy Genoa talked to the rest of the neighbors, but other than the motor, no one heard or saw anything. They were all asleep. He examined and photographed the area. The only thing he found was the path in the sand and gravel where the young lady had crawled out of the lake, up the beach and onto the parking lot. There was a lot of blood. Once he had marked off the area with yellow, crime-scene tape, he headed over to the Rheem’s house.
”Mr. Rheem? I’m Kosciusko Sheriff’s Deputy, Gordon Genoa. May I come in?”
“Certainly, deputy. We’ve been expecting you. That poor girl. Is she going to be alright? She looked so badly beaten, and that cut, it looked really bad. Who could have done such a thing?”
“I hope she will be OK. That’s in the good hands of the doctors at KCH now. My job is to find out what happened and who might be responsible.”
“We’ll help any way we can.” Harold Rheem offered.
“I’m going to have to talk to your boys soon. How are they doing?”
“They’re still frightened and upset. I’ll try to get them to talk to you.”
“Before you do, I want you to tell me everything they said to you—everything—every word. I’ll be asking your wife the same thing. What you remember and tell me could be significant.”
“I’ll do my best, but Annabel heard a lot more than I did. She was awake when they came in. I was sound asleep. All I remember was Donnie screaming, ‘There’s a hurt lady on the beach. She’s got no clothes on.’ over and over. That woke me up. Timmie, the older boy was so scared he couldn’t talk, just pointed to the beach. I grabbed my robe as did Annabel, and we ran out to the beach and found her. Annabel wrapped her in a blanket she grabbed off our bed as we ran out. That’s when I ran back in the house and called 911. On the way I saw our neighbor and asked her to take out something to try to stop all that bleeding. One of the neighbors moved his car so his head lights let us see. Annabel was trying to talk to her while I ran in to fix something hot for her. She was shivering, shaking terribly, even after we put that heavy blanket on her, and so much blood. I was afraid she’d bleed to death. While I was fixing cocoa, you drove up. That’s about it.”
“Did you hear her say anything?”
“No. I wasn’t there long before I ran inside to fix the cocoa. She never got a chance to drink it.”
Annabel could add little to what she told him earlier. She thought what she heard her mumble sounded like “wall” or “mall” and that she repeated it several times.
Deputy Genoa was gentle with the boys. His own son was six and he was a good father, a gentle man. Timmie was so traumatized by the event he couldn’t speak of it. He seemed to be in shock. Donnie was another story. He had lots to say, mostly about all the blood and that she was “Totally naked.”
Donnie also said. “She kept saying ‘Water, water.’ and never even looked at me when I asked her what was wrong. She just kept crawling up the beach saying, ‘Water, water.’ Then I ran to get Mom.”
When Deputy Genoa learned all he thought he was going to learn and had recorded the names, addresses, and phone numbers of all the people who had gathered there, he prepared to leave. His radio stopped him. It was Eric Blanding the deputy at the hospital.
“Gordy, I’ve called Captain Yoder. He lives close by.”
“Then I’ll have to hold down the fort until he gets here.” He knew why immediately. “She’s that bad?”
“Looks like it. The girl has not regained consciousness. The doctors found she lost a great deal of blood. That was definitely a knife inflicted wound. Doc says it looks like someone tried to cut her throat, but missed, possibly because she tried to get away. That cut is deep enough that she has lost a lot of blood. The examining physicians discovered she is pregnant, about six weeks. Why she has not aborted because of the beating is nothing short of a miracle. Of course, she still could. They also found she had sex recently. There was a lot of semen in her vagina. It is possible her assailant also raped her. She is in critical condition in the intensive care section of the hospital. The doctor in charge told me they doubted she would make it. If that happens it’s a murder case.”
“That’s why they called Ragan. They want him on the case as early as possible.”
“How right you are. As soon as I reported that the doctors didn’t expect her to live, they asked me to call Ragan. He said he would be at the scene in fifteen minutes. If the doctors decide Jane Doe might make it, they will consider an air transfer to a hospital in Indianapolis where she could receive more specific treatment. Otherwise she will probably go to the coroner and it will be a homicide. Oh yes, we have no hint as to her identity.”
“Thanks Eric. I know you’ll contact me if anything changes. I hope she makes it. She’s so young, no more than seventeen or eighteen is my guess. I especially hate it when we have to deal with young kids like her.”
He walked back to the Rheem’s house and spoke to them. “Our homicide investigator, Captain Ragan Yoder will be here shortly. He will examine the crime scene and probably ask you some of the same questions I have. Ragan is a retired Chicago homicide detective who moved back here where he grew up after he retired from the Chicago police. He helps us out on especially tough cases, loves a challenge. This one’s right up his alley. I’ll be in my car ‘til Ragan gets here in case you think of anything you forgot to mention to me. While we’re waiting, please rethink about what happened. See if you can remember anything you might have forgotten to mention. Even the smallest thing could be important.”
CHAPTER ONE
I was just about to head out on the lake with my fly rod for a couple of hours of relaxation when the damned phone rang. At this time of day it couldn’t be a social call so I anticipated a problem when I answered the phone.
“That you, Ragan?” a familiar male voice asked.
“Yes, Eric, it’s me. I don’t suppose this is a social call. It probably means my bass fishing will now be out for the morning.”
“Only if you decide to follow up.”
“And just what would I be following up?
“A young woman crawled up on the beach at the Tippy dance hall about an hour ago. She was stark naked and had been beaten and cut badly. She’s at KCH and the doctors don’t seem to think she will make it. She is comatose and had no ID of any kind, so she’s a Jane Doe.”
“Damn. I was going to try out a new bass fly I just tied. Today is perfect for it, quiet and bright. Oh well, I suppose I can amble over to the dance hall. I assume there is an officer there now?”
“Gordy’s there, waiting for you. I told him I was going to call you since it will probably end up as a homicide. I know you would rather get on it early.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, and then give me all you have about the girl.”
“OK, Ragan.”
When Eric finished giving me all he knew about the girl, I checked the clock. It was six-thirty. I replaced my bass rod on the hooks above the door, and dropped my fly box with my new bass flies into the pocket of my fishing jacket. Taking one last regret-filled look at the glassy surface of the lake, I noticed several circles where my finny adversaries were chasing minnows at the surface. You guys will just have to wait ‘til I get back, I said under my breath as I gazed longingly at the mirror reflection of the opposite shore. I turned, grabbed my camera, my netbook, my case of forensic magic, and headed for my old pickup. I knew the sun wouldn’t be peeking through the trees on the eastern horizon for at least the next half hour. Still, the early light was just enough to see by. The high morning moon was almost at the zenith as I rolled my little, red pickup out to Kalorama Road. My Algonkian ancestors believed that moon indicated an evil time for five days. It looks like this time that was right on the mark.
My pickup was not an ordinary Chevy S10. The original engine, transmission, rear end, and suspension are long gone along with several other items. In their place is a state-of-the-art, small block V8 from a Camaro. This engine was coupled with a five speed manual transmission, a sturdier rear end, a GM S-truck Extreme Sport Suspension, and all the necessary cooling and exhaust additions. This nearly triples the horsepower and makes this S10 a completely different vehicle—a fire breathing little monster in disguise. Another Chicago cop, a good friend, joined his brother in a hot rod shop in Hammond Indiana after he retired. They did the swap for me. Their shop specializes in engine swaps and are among the tops in the business. Except for the power, the handling, and the sound you would take it as an ordinary S10.
I revel driving this machine as I head north on Kalorama Road, climb the hill and traverse the usually busy space between the country club building and the pro shop. The winding road takes me right through the golf course where I caddied as a kid. In the dim first light of dawn there are already a few early birds heading for the first tee.
At the top of the hill between the 18th and the 13th tee, I head left onto 750 N where I can finally loosen the reigns a bit on my frisky truck. A left onto 300 E, a drive through the woods past Oswego Lake, and I follow the same route Gordy took a bit earlier. He’s waiting as I pull up next to his car.
“Hello, you old fart,” he says holding out his hand. I’ve known Gordy since he was a baby, literally. Many years ago, his dad and I played on the same Warsaw high basketball team that made it to the state finals.
I took his hand and grinned as we headed down to the beach. “That’s not a very professional greeting for an officer of the law, kid.”
“And just when did you become a stickler on protocol between us?”
“Touché. What do we have here, anything at all that Eric didn’t fill me in on?”
“Probably nothing. No ID of any kind. No clothing, not even panty hose. No jewelry. She crawled out of that lake carrying just what she came into the world with. It’s far too early for there to be a missing person report. She’s a real Jane Doe. I talked with everyone I saw here including the boys who found her. None of them recognized her”
“Eric told me the doctors put her age as between seventeen and twenty. Also, she’s about two months pregnant and was probably sexually assaulted by the same man or men who beat and cut her. They found fresh semen in her vagina. It will go to the lab for DNA testing.”
“Yeah, Eric gave me the same report.”
“I’ve seen some nasty murders over the years, but something about teen age girls being savaged really boils my blood. I hope we can catch the slob who did this.”
“I know just what you mean.”
“After I check out the spot where she crawled ashore I’d like to speak to the people who found and helped her.”
“I told them you would be talking with them, asked them to try and remember anything they could no matter how trivial. The boys that found her are special cases. The older boy, Timmie is ten. He was so traumatized he can’t even talk, or couldn’t at the time. Donnie, eight, will talk your arm off. I think those are simply their individual ways of dealing with the situation.”
“I’m sure. . . . I can see where she crawled up on the shore. Look at that trail of blood. She certainly lost a lot considering she probably lost most of it in the water. I wonder how long she was swimming?”
Although there wasn’t much to photograph I took several photos of her path out of the water, and of the bloody spot where she stopped. Then I wondered, “Has anyone gone into the water where she came out?”
“No. We’ll have to get a diver for that. The bottom drops off steeply about twenty feet from shore. Should I call Skip?”
“Might as well, just in case she dropped something. It’s not likely, but you never know.”
While Gordy was calling Skip, I tried to put together a scenario from the few bits of information we had. Obviously it was a man who had sex with her, probably rape. He must have beaten her badly before raping her. It took place out in the lake on a power boat with a big V8 engine. At first the strange cut made no sense. At first I couldn’t figure why it was inflicted the way it was. A shallow cut on her chin and up past her ear, then a much deeper cut clear across her skull. It would have been extremely difficult to inflict such a wound. Then, in one of those wonderful aha moments, I knew how it happened, why the cut was so strange.
“Skip’s over on Chapman Lake, looking for a lost outboard motor. He says he can be here in about an hour.”
“Good. Let’s go talk to the folks you spoke to. Maybe they will remember something they didn’t earlier. I’m not questioning your interviews. It’s just that a new face, a slightly different approach, might trigger a new memory.”
“Come on, Ragan, You should know I understand that.. Have you forgotten I’ve been a law officer for the last ten years?”
“Yes, I should, shouldn’t I? Consider that a senior moment.”
Gordy guided us to the porch of a nearby white cottage and knocked on the door. “The Rheems live here, Harold, Annabel, and their boys, the ones who found her.”
Harold came to the door. “Come in officers. I assume you are Captain Yoder. Deputy Genoa explained you would be coming to see us.”
Ragan was good at putting people at ease in tense situations. He made an obvious effort at looking around the place. “You have a lovely home here. I see it’s more than a summer place.”
Annabel smiled with pride. “Yes, It was a summer place my parents bought many years ago. When the boys were just babies, Harold took a job with Da-Lite in Warsaw. We bought it from them and converted it into a year round home. We love living on the lake.”
“I do as well. All my years in Chicago I visited Tippy when I could, took many vacations here. Then, when I retired, I bought a place across the lake on Kalorama Road about a mile from the country club. That was about the same time as when you moved in here. . . . Why don’t we all sit, if that’s OK with you folks.”
We men were soon seated around an old, well preserved table in the front room. Annabel stood by the doorway to the back of the house and instantly became a hostess. “I’m sorry. I should have offered you seats. Would you like a cup of coffee, or something else to drink?”
I looked at Annabel. “A cup of coffee would be wonderful. I like mine black.”
After everyone expressed their preferences, she disappeared into the kitchen.
“Harold, are you a fisherman?” I asked.
“Used to be, but I’ve been so busy at work and with taking care of the place, I haven’t done much fishing for several years. My boys are though. They were heading out fishing when they found that poor girl.”
“That may be something I could use to get through to the older boy. Officer Gordon briefed me on all you told him. After we are through with our initial talk, I’d like to try talking to your boys. I understand Timmie is terribly upset about what he saw. That’s certainly understandable. I’d like to try getting through to him. Being in civilian clothes, especially in my fishin’ clothes, may make me a bit less intimidating than those in uniforms, especially Sheriff’s uniforms.”
“I’ll get him for you.”
“Not just yet. I have a few questions for the two of you, just to confirm what Deputy Genoa told me. Incidentally, Deputy Genoa has known me all of his life. His dad and I were friends from high school. We never lost touch over the years.”
I could see Harold was relaxing as Annabel brought our coffee. We talked for about fifteen minutes, confirming what Gordy told me. I didn’t learn anything new.
“Where are your boys now?”
Annabel stiffened in her chair. “They’re back in their room playing computer games. I thought it a good idea to try getting their minds off of that terrible scene.”
I sat back in the chair and tried looking as relaxed as possible. “I’d like to speak to them in their rooms if it’s OK with you. I would like you not to mention that I am a policeman. Tell them I’m a fisherman who lives on the lake and want to talk to them, fisherman to fisherman., and show them something, something they will like. That is true, you know.” I drew the box of bass flies out of my jacket pocket and set it on the label. “Tied these myself, mostly out of deer hair. Do either of the boys use a fly rod?”
“We bought Timmie one for last Christmas, but he hasn’t learned how to use it yet. Not as far as I know. I never learned how so I couldn’t teach him.”
“Well now, maybe that will provide the opening I need to get through to him.”
I turned to Gordon. “Do you suppose you and your cruiser could disappear for a while? I’d like to lower the level of tension on the boys.”
Gordy grinned broadly. “Sure, Captain. I will leave the scene in your capable hands and resume my usual duties.”
“Come on, Gordy. Aren’t you being a bit over dramatic? Don’t take him too seriously, folks. He’s been poking fun at me since he was a kid.”
As Gordy drove off, I turned to the Rheems. “I’d like to talk to your boys now. As I said, introduce me as a fishermen from the lake.”
Annable stood up. “That may seem a bit strange to them right now. They might be suspicious.”
“Just let me handle that, Mrs. Rheem. I can dispell their suspicions quite easily, just as long as they don’t know I’m a policeman.”
“If you’re sure. Right this way.”
As I entered the room with their mother, both boys stood. “This is Mr. Yoder, boys. He’s been fishing Tippy for many years and wants to talk with you.” I sat down on the bed, mainly so I would be closer to their eye level.
“What do you boys usually fish for? Also, which one of you is the best fisherman?”
That brought a couple of guarded giggles from the boys, but no conversation.
“Timmie, I understand from your Dad that you have a new fly rod. Have you tried it out yet?”
Donnie answered for him. “He hasn’t used it once. He’s afraid he’ll break it and upset Dad.”
“I am not afraid and I won’t break it.” Timmie said sharply to his brother, then turned to me. “He’s upset because he didn’t get one.”
“I am not.”
“How old are you, Donnie?”
“Eight.”
“And, how old is Timmie?”
“Ten.”
“It’s usual for parents to give a gift to an older child first. Gifts like fly rods require levels of skill and training. I’ll bet your folks will give you a fly rod if your brother starts using his, and likes it. I’ll also bet they won’t if Timmie never uses his. It will just stay stored where it is now. By the way, where is your fly rod?”
“In a tube on the porch with the other fishing rods.” Timmie said. “The reel and line are still in the box they came in along with an assortment of flies. Dad told me he would try to find someone to teach me how to use it. Is that you, Mr. Yoder?”
“You bet. Timmie. Let me show you something.” I reached into my jacket pocket and took out my box of bass flies. “Take a look at these bass flies. Tied everyone of them my self. It’s one of my hobbies. I’ve been tying flies since I was about your age.”
“Wow, you made those? How’d you learn to do that?”
I went through the flies with both boys showing them the difference between wet and dry flies, and explaining the different techniques of fishing them. Within an hour we were fishing buddies.
“Now, how about we put your fly rod together, load the line, and go out and see how it works?”
Both boys jumped up, smiling and enthusiastic. “Lets go.” they said.
Half an hour later, we were all out on their pier. I held Timmie’s flyrod, now with reel, line and tiny dry fly in my right hand. Several overhead swings of the rod and the tiny fly dropped lightly on the surface fifty feet out.
“You try it, Timmie.” I said.
Fly fishing is quite easy once you get the knack of lifting the rod sharply and smoothly rolling the line back over your head and then guiding it forward and dropping it softly on the surface in front of you. In less than an hour of practice with instructions, Timmie was laying the fly quite smoothly onto the surface. I even let Donnie try, but the two years difference in their ages showed in Donnie’s impatience. It would take time before he would be ready.
I sent Timmie out near the end of the pier. “Now, let’s see if you can catch some fish.”
I explained and demonstrated how to make that dry fly move in the surface just like a real insect. I had Timmie drop the fly near some lilly pads. Two small flicks of the tip, a swirl of the surface, and the fly disappeared. Instinctively Timmie set the hook. After a short furious battle, a beautiful sunfish was taken, unhooked, and released. One look at Timmie’s face and I knew a new fly fisherman was being born. Timmie was hooked.
By eight o’clock we were back on the porch and I was finishing teaching a few more of the basics of fly fishing. I promised I would introduce Timmie to fly fishing for bass when he had mastered catching pan fish. I also promised Donnie I would do the same for him when he was ready if he would just be patient. The boys were both relaxed and talking freely with me. I decided to try to speak with them about the incident with the young lady.
“Boys, I would like for you to help me out with a problem I have to work on. Would you do that, help me?”
They looked at each other. Timmie spoke. “Sure, Mr. Yoder. How can we help?”
Donnie agreed. “What can we do?”
“First of all, I want you to know that I have been a fisherman for at least fifty years. It’s my favorite hobby. I also have a job. Are you clear about the difference between a hobby and a job?”
“You get paid for a job.” Timmie answered. “A hobby is something you do for fun, right?”
“Very good. Donnie, do you understand the difference?”
“My Dad works for Da-Lite Screen. That’s his job. My mom makes quilts. That’s her hobby. She doesn’t get a pay check.”
I had to laugh at that. “Well, my job, my real job for the last forty years has been to search out and find bad people, some of them are really bad. I’ve been an investigator. Do you know what that word means?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen investigators on some of those TV programs. Aren’t they policemen?”
“Not always, and not like ordinary policemen. Investigators try to solve crimes, major crimes, and put really bad people in jail. They are part of many teams who work hard to protect people like you and your parents. Protect them from those few really bad people, criminals, who do terrible things. Do you understand that?”
I could see Timmie was beginning to tense up. “Timmie, if I asked you to help me find a bad person if all you had to do was answer some questions, would you answer my questions?”
I could tell he was fidgeting and getting apprehensive. “I don’t know. Are you talking about what happened this morning?”
“Yes. Can we talk about what happened this morning? I really need your help. Someone did terrible things to that lady, they hurt her seriously. Did you realize she is just a few years older than you are? Would you talk to me about what you saw and heard? One little word could help me find those people who hurt her. We could talk in a closed room with no one else present if you want.”
I waited as Timmie wrestled with his fears. Finally, he spoke. “Didn’t Donnie tell you everything? We were there together.”
“Timmie, over years of experience, I have learned that different people usually see the same event differently, even those in the same family. Yes, Donnie told us what he saw and heard. I would certainly appreciate hearing what you saw and heard, in your words. It could be helpful.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I tell you man to man that one thing I have learned through the years deals with exactly how you are feeling. Those who are most troubled by any experience, as you are, often feel much better, are much relieved, once they open up and talk about it. It won’t bother you nearly as much when you’ve shared with someone you trust. That I can guarantee.”
“One thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Donnie’s wrong about what she was saying. It wasn’t water, it was a name, Walter. I heard her say it several times. Clear as a bell. I also heard her say help me a couple of times.”
“Timmie, that’s a huge help. It gives us a name, a man’s name.”
Once Timmie started, his fears seemed to subside. I talked to him for nearly an hour, but didn’t learn much else.
When we were finished and I was about to leave, Timmie took hold of my hand and looked up at me. “Mr. Yoder?”
“Yes, Timmie.”
“You were right. I feel much better since we talked. I saw terrible things, but now I can think about them without being so scared. I hope that poor lady recovers.”
“Thanks, Timmie. I too hope she recovers. Don’t forget. When you learn more how to use that fly rod, we’ll go bass fishing. I’ll take you in my boat.” The smile I received was worth all the effort and then some.
I was quite certain I had learned all I was going to from the Rheems. I had a few more words with them and then headed outside. Skip Miller and his crew were there, looking at the marked off location. He was still in his wet suit
“Mornin’ Captain Yoder.”
“Good morning, Skip. I see you’re all ready.”
“I had just suited up and was checking my gear when Gordy called. I hadn’t entered the water because it was still too dark to see anything. I can go back to search for the motor later. What you have here is a much higher priority.”
“Are you familiar with this part of Tippy?”
“I haven’t dived here for a number of years, but things don’t change much under water. I know it’s quite deep, at least sixty feet between this bank and the point over there.”
“You see where she came ashore. My guess is she swam to the nearest shore so you should probably concentrate your search straight out from this spot.”
“Anything in particular I should look for? I’ll bet there’s lots of junk down there. This is a busy part of the lake.”
“Anything any out of the ordinary. It would also have to be fresh—dropped early this morning.”
“That makes it easy. Anything that recent would have no dirt settled out on it. By the way, this will take some time. I’m guessing at least a couple of hours so I’ll need to come up for another air bottle at least once, maybe twice.”
“I think I’ll head over to KCH and see if I can find out anything that might have been missed. I’ll be back here around eleven.”
“We should be finished by then. Oh yes. I will photograph everything that looks like it might be relevant before I pick it up.”
“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” I said with a broad grin.
Skip chuckled. “Naw! This is my first try. . . . I should be finished no later than eleven, unless we run into a problem
CHAPTER TWO
Ray Walters and Al Jonas were seated at the table in Al’s trailer in a trailer park just east of Indianapolis. It was early evening on Saturday before Labor Day. Several boxes containing the remains of their Chinese dinner were on the sink. A map of Kosciusko County a hundred and twenty miles north of their location was spread out on the table.
Ray had been in trouble most of his life, from getting into fights with other boys, as an adult he grew into strong arm robberies, mostly of women. He spent three years of jail time for beating and robbing a fifty-six-year-old woman in a shopping center parking lot. He was drunk at the time and claims he remembered none of what he was charged with. All the woman had was $36. Ray was not a nice person, especially when he was drunk which was often
. Al was in many ways the opposite of Ray. He was a smaller, skinner, much less physically violent man than Ray. A conniver, he used wits rather than brawn to get out of difficult situations. He was the balancing brains of the pair to Ray’s often unthinking brawn. Al had rescued Ray from difficulty several times by smoothly talking him into backing off from a potential conflict. Once he talked a cop into releasing him when he was being arrested.
Al was pointing out the route to their destination.
“We leave tomorrow afternoon about two and end up taking SR 13 from Wabash to just past US 30 and Pierceton. Then we go about eight miles further and turn left here at the second traffic signal after US 30. That’s Armstrong Road. We drive west about eight miles and then, well, then we make lots of money. I used the Internet to check out the place we’re gonna hit. It’s a huge brick house, the biggest and only yellow brick house on the southwest side of the lake.”
“How can you be sure they’ll be gone?”
“That’s easy. My connection with an old buddy who works for an international travel company. For a price, he gives me tips on which wealthy people are going on long trips and leaving their homes empty. That’s how I knew when and how to hit those two small jobs we did recently. The folks that own this house will be in Spain for three weeks. The place will be deserted.”
“No guests or house sitters?”
“He says not.”
“How about the alarm system?”
“I’ll take care of that first off when we get there. That’s my specialty. I got a job with an alarm company for six months. I learned all the ways to get around alarms. If you know how, it’s easy.”
“I don’t know about that. I heard they have all kinds of new security technologies, motion detectors, heat sensors, things like that, hi tech stuff.”
“I know how to shut off or avoid all that stuff. Besides, my friends in the security business tell me the system in this house is old, unreliable, and easy to shut down.”
“How the hell do you get all that information?”
“My friend, I have been working on just such a project, actually a whole lot of projects, for years. I got jobs that would give me access to people and information I could use later on. I’m a long range planner. This one came up months ago when I learned the owners would be out of the country over Labor Day. That’s an ideal time for a job like this. Lots of people moving around makes it easier for us to get in, clean the place out, and get out without anyone noticing us.”
“You make it sound so easy. I’ll bet it won’t work out that way.”
“Every job like this has risks. I have plans for almost any unexpected problem that could arise, and at least two plans for every problem we know of. No, it’s not fool proof, but nothing in life ever is.”
“Isn’t Labor Day a risky time to be doing this? There will be lots of people around.”
“My contact told me to hit it the week after, but I think he’s wrong. There will be gobs of people on the lake and around the place. That makes my plan ideal since we’ll be unnoticed, invisible in all the confusion among all those people. Trust me, Labor Day weekend will be the ideal time.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“It’s part of my planning. Let me give you an example. Their security system is powered primarily from their main circuit. Should that be cut or the main switch thrown, a battery operated system cuts in. At the same time, an alarm signal is sent out to the security people that a breach has occurred. The police and private security people are notified immediately, and will be on their way.”
“Then if you throw the main switch to shut down the system we’ll be screwed.”
Al picked up a small metal box with five wires tipped with alligator clips. “See this little beauty? When I attach these wires to the correct posts in the main circuit box, I can open the main switch without the system sending that signal. The rest of the security system will then be without power, and nothing will happen. The box simulates the load from the house circuits and the security system. The system thinks everything is OK. No warning signal is sent. Next, I switch off all the circuit breakers except for the outlet we’ll need for the cutter.”
“How in hell will you know which one?”
“If they’re not marked, and I’ll bet they are, I will just have to test them one at a time. That will take a few minutes, but we’ll have plenty of time. After that, we can go about our business in complete safety. Should we trip any other sensor, the lights and alarm that would normally be turned on, will have no power and so will not turn on. In their system, those lights include dozens of bright floodlights all over the property that would light up the entire place, inside and out.”
“How in hell are we going to be able to find anything in the dark and in a strange house?”
“First of all, I have two pair of night vision goggles we can use to see in the dark.” Al reached over and rolled out a set of plans on the table. “Here’s a complete floor plan of the house. You can examine and memorize it while we’re driving there.”
“How the crap did you ever get hold of that?”
“I told you I began researching this job as soon as I learned the owners would be gone. I found out the guy built the house using plans for another house, plans that were in an architectural magazine. I bought this set of plans directly from the magazine. Pretty slick, eh?”
“Even with all that, how do you know that they have stuff we can turn into cash, and how do you know it will be there while they’re gone? They surely wouldn’t go away and leave cash and jewelry laying about.”
“I doubt there will be any cash and jewelry there at all, other than a few items they may have forgotten about. What we will go after is the stuff they can’t take with them or put in a safe. Big things worth lots of moolah, things difficult to haul away and almost impossible to fence.”
“If they are so hard to steal and fence, why bother?”
“Because I have figured a way to haul them off and sell them, stupid. The harder things are to steal and fence, the less protections the owners place around them.”
“Like what for instance?
“Like a solid silver fountain on his patio, for instance. He paid nearly half a million for it twenty years ago when he brought it from Greece. It’s worth at least twice that much in silver alone at today’s prices. That fountain sits right here,” he said pointing to a spot on the plans. “We take it, melt it down and sell the silver. Melted and recast, it would be untraceable. If we sell it a bar at a time to different buyers, we’ll be millionaires in just a few weeks and no one would be suspicious.”
“It must be heavy. How will we be able to carry it out?”
“Hell, you’re the metal worker. Can’t you think of a way it could be carted away in pieces small enough for us to carry easily.”
“Of course. Cut it up. That’s what you wanted that portable diamond disk cutter for.”
“Right. That’s the single main piece, but there are expensive paintings and other stuff all over the place. They may even have sterling silverware. Once we sell that silver, we’ll be able to buy our way into the secret sales channels for stolen art. From what I’ve learned, that could net us as much as another million.”
“We’ll need a truck to haul all that stuff. How in hell can we load up a truck in his driveway? Someone’s bound to see us and call the cops.”
“A boat.”
“A what?”
“A big open fishing boat. In fact, that’s how we get to the house without being seen. I rented this boat, trailer and a truck to tow it, for the whole time. It’s sitting out back, already hitched up and ready to go. We load our tools in the boat, launch it from the trailer on a public boat ramp up a river called Grassy Creek. While it’s still light out and before it gets dark, we negotiate this creek all the way to the lake. We take the boat down the lake, spot the house, and then stay out in the lake with all the other boats until it is completely dark. Next we go in and tie up at his pier. Then we clean the place out and dump all the stuff from the house into the boat. We take the boat back to the boat ramp, pull it out, cover the stuff with the boat cover so no one will see it and be on our way home. It will be weeks before anyone discovers the house has been robbed. By that time we will be long gone. Neat, eh?”
“I gotta hand it to ya, that sounds like a great plan. I just hope nothing goes wrong. What will we do if they come home early, or if some friend comes by to check on the house for them?”
“That’s why I planned it for Labor Day Sunday, and at night. We can wait in the boat out in the lake. We’ll be just one boat among lots of others on the water. After it gets completely dark we tie up at their pier and wait, just to make sure no one’s around. When we’re sure the coast is clear, we break in. Those sliding glass doors in the front are easy to get open. Then we’ll put on those night vision goggles I bought and be able to see everything without any lights. The entire front of the house is glass so anyone on the lake in front of the house would see any lights. I figure at least four hours to strip the place, load the boat, and be on our way. That should give us plenty of time to find our way back to the boat ramp before it gets light. Those goggles will help us there too, if the batteries last long enough.”
“What about the batteries?”
“They are rechargeable but last only about four hours on a charge. We will have two fully charged batteries and a charger with us just in case. Should either one of them run down, we will switch and drop it into the charger. We’ll only need one for the trip back to the boat ramp.”
“I don’t know, Al. It sounds complicated to me. Lots of things could go wrong. I don’t know nothin’ about that area.”
“Damn it Ray, I’ve spent months of planning on this job. If I had any suspicion you would develop cold feet, I’d have gotten another partner. You can’t back out now.”
“I’m not backing out. I’m just nervous, that’s all.”
“Well, get over it. It’ll be a piece of cake.”
_________________________________________________
Dr Charlie Botkin, from Cal Tech, one of the worlds top authorities on high energy physics is asked for help in determining just what the effects of the star’s passing so close to the Earth might be. Shortly after the mysterious disappearance of his uncle C he becomes deeply involved in the ongoing task of predicting how close the star will pass, and what damage it might do. Working with the original group from Gemini, Crazy Charlie helps in their effort to keep the public calm. Armed with increasingly accurate projections of the path and possible effects of the ghost star, Charlie predicts there is a good chance it will pass with little or no effect on the Earth. The story follows the original group including the two daughters of Angus and Lani, and others who join them as they live through the years from the end of the first book to just before the star will pass through the solar system.
The book ends six months before the star is scheduled to pass and with a ray of new hope. Blue Shift III will tell about those last six months, what happens as the star flashes by, and the aftermath. It answers the question, does the Earth or life still exist?
PROLOGUE:
A menace and a threat are not the same thing.. A threat is the mere possibility of danger or something without danger that may have the appearance of danger for a time. It can usually be dealt with or avoided by clever counter action. A menace, on the other hand, is a real danger that must be dealt with. Its occurrence is as certain as the rising of the sun.
As the jet rumbled down the LAX runway toward its scheduled path to Hawaii, Dr. Charles Botkin’s mind raced through the multitude of new questions triggered by recent events at the Gemini Observatory in Hawaii. Crazy Charley, as he was known to his friends, was drawn into the inner circle of those with knowledge of the menacing star when the director of the Gemini Project, John Carroll, asked him for help. He was asked to provide computer simulations of the effects of a star passing through the solar system at 90% of the speed of light. What began as a simple theoretical question became a terrifying reality when Gemini astronomer, Angus Thomas, admitted the reality of the situation. It then turned into a search at the very edges of current science into application of relativity, quantum physics, and quantum cosmology theory to this unusual star. Just the concept of such an object: half the mass of our sun, moving at such a phenomenal velocity, was mind boggling. To consider it might plow right through the solar system in 2031 was beyond that and fearfully menacing as well.
What would be the result should this unusual star named, The Ghost, pass through the solar system as current projections of its path indicate? At its unprecedented velocity, would the star’s gravity disrupt the orbits of the planets possibly flinging the earth out into the oblivion of interstellar space? How did this star attain such an unprecedented speed in the first place? This was a speed attained by only the tiniest of objects such as those particles Dr. Botkin researched and taught about at Cal Tech in Pasadena. Initially, understanding this phenomenon defied even his brilliant mind. He would be witnessing real events never before considered by any scientist. A whole new field of theory, together with the possibility of practical experience, was opening before his very eyes. Would powerful gravitational waves be generated by the rapid movement of the mass of the star? Would these powerful waves tear apart the planets, including earth, or would they pass without effect because of their speed? Would the inertia of the planets resist the gravitational effects because of the rapid movement of the star? These questions were completely unknown and not even speculated about before, because they were outside the realm of possibility before the discovery. As his plane hurtled through the sky, his mind continued swimming through the morass of ever expanding unanswered questions. Finally he began remembering his first visit to the Gemini telescope on the big island of Hawaii and of all the new people now so deeply involved in his life.
————
Using the new Gemini telescope on the island of Hawaii, astronomer Angus Thomas discovers a wayward star that could threaten to destroy all life when it races past the earth in about thirty years. Discovery of this inescapable menace unleashes snowballing events that batter the former all-pro running back, his beautiful assistant, Lani Namahoe, their families and friends. This determined group of people battle ignorance, internal enemies, and government agents as they deal with the discovery of this irresistible, unavoidable menace that man is absolutely powerless to change or escape. Then they face the awesome responsibility of publicly announcing the possible end of life on the earth while struggling against powerful forces that want to prevent them from doing so. After the initial shock and reaction to such unnerving news quieted down, people throughtout the world settled back to very much the same life activities as before with a few exceptions. Most of these exceptions centered around those who would try to determine what would actually happen, and those who would use the knowledge and the associated emotional reactions for their own benefit. These people and organizations often acted against the welfare of the general population.
Chapter 1 - A Search for New Knowledge Begins
Tuesday, July31, John Carroll, director of the Gemini telescope on the big island of Hawaii, called Dr. Angus Thomas, an astronomer working at Gemini, with some important news. Charlie Botkin had called to say he had prepared some preliminary results of the simulations of the effects of the ghost star passing near or through the solar system, and wanted to deliver them personally. Charley told him he needed to unwind for a few days and was taking him up on his earlier invitation. He would arrive in Hilo Wednesday afternoon and at Gemini by three. He declined to answer any questions about the simulations over the phone.
By three o’clock the next day Angus and John were in the lobby of the Gemini ZZZtech center, nervously awaiting Charlie’s arrival. He called to say his plane landed a bit early so he would take a cab there. As they watched, a cab drove up and disgorged a tall, thin man in tattered jeans and a ponytail. He wore a garish Hawaiian shirt and carried a stuffed duffel bag. No one would ever expect this character to be a serious, world famous scientist.
As soon as John introduced Angus, Charlie commented, “You worked with Pat Yamaguchi at Arizona, didn’t you? I understand you found an unusual new star.”
Surprised, Angus took a moment to answer, “Why . . . yes I have, but how do you know my work . . . and Pat?”
Charlie laughed. “Pat worked with me at Caltech during our graduate studies before he moved to the University of Arizona. We still get together occasionally. I called him for some input on the problem you gave me. He was very helpful.”
John and Angus glanced at each other in dismay, their minds racing. This was an unexpected development. “What did he have to say about the problem?” John asked, quickly regaining his composure.
“He said it was impossible. Nothing could cause a star to reach that speed.” Charlie answered in a matter-of-fact voice. Then he asked, “Is that girl at the reception desk Jenny?”
“Yes, do you know her?” John Asked.
“Not really. I asked her to marry me once, and now I’d like to meet her.”
John and Angus looked at each other as John explained, “See now why they call him Crazy Charlie?”
Charlie sauntered over to the reception desk smiling brightly. “Are you Jenny?”
“Why yes. How can I help you?”
“I spoke to you on the phone a while back, Charlie Botkin from Cal-Tech. Do you remember?”
“How could I forget a man who proposed to me over the phone the first time we talked. You are crazy.”
“That’s me. Crazy Charlie, my friends call me I just wanted to meet you in person. Incidently, you are even prettier than you sounded over the phone.”
Jenny tried desperately to maintain a professional attitude under this onslaught of complimentary mremarks. “What can I do for you?” she struggled to say.
Mmmm“Nothing right now, but I may have a question or two for you later, so be forewarned.” Charlie said as he turned to rejoin John and Angus.
Just before noon on Thursday. August 2, 2002, Dr. Charles Botkin drove up in a newly rented car and walked into the lobby of the Gemini Op Center in Hilo. Crazy Charlie, as his colleagues at Cal Tech called him, was dressed neatly in slacks and a conservative shirt, obviously new. He stopped at the desk and spoke to Jenny, the receptionist, in his most proper fashion. “I’ve kidded you a bit before, but I’d like to ask a serious question. Do you have a steady boyfriend?”
Jenny, who had recently terminated a relationship, was wary. She picked up a pencil from the desk and drummed it steadily. “You call asking me to marry you the first time we spoke on the phone a little kidding? And now you’re being quite nosey.”
Charlie conjured up his most innocent look. “That was for laughs. This is serious. I was wondering if you could possibly show me around after you finish work. That wouldn’t be appropriate if you had a steady boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, but still, I don’t know you at all. I’m a bit wary about going out with you.” Jenny continued drumming the pencil nervously. She still didn’t know quite how to take him.
“I’ll provide references. How about Dr. Angus Thomas or his assistant, Lani? Or maybe your chief honcho, Dr. Carroll? You know them.” He placed his extended thumbs in the armpits of his shirt. “I even bought a new outfit this morning so you would know I don’t always dress as casually as I did yesterday when I arrived from LA.”
“I don’t usually date men I meet here at Gemini. It’s not a good idea.” Her coy smile betrayed her.
Charlie smiled as he caught the encouraging contradiction. “This is my first time here and will most likely be my last. I don’t really have business here. I’m just an old friend of Dr. Carroll’s who came for a visit. I promise you fun, companionship and no wrestling matches. I’d like to see this place with someone younger than my parents and you’re the only one I know. Please?” Charlie was using all his considerable boyish charm.
Jenny smiled, hesitated, then carefully placed the pencil on the desktop. “I suppose it will be okay,”
“Then how’s six o’clock? You pick the place to eat. I’ll rely entirely on your judgement, but remember, I like expensive food.”
Jenny pulled a Hilo map from her desk, placed it on the counter and marked a spot on the map. “Right here’s where I live. I’ll write the address and phone number on the map. Think you can find your way?”
Charlie broke into a wide grin. “No problem. See you at six. And thanks.”
§§§
At exactly six Jenny bounced through her apartment to answer the door for Charlie. “Are you always so on time?”
“Are you always so ready? You seem all set to go.”
Jenny spun once around. Her pleated pale blue skirt flounced jauntily. “How do you like the dress? My sis bought it for me. She said it just looked like me.”
“It’s very pretty.”
“I know it’s not very Hawaiian, but I like it” She led him across the room and pointed to a chair. “We have time to sit for a while.”
Charlie was silent for a moment, searching for something to say. “You’re obviously not from the islands, I’d say somewhere in the Southwest.”
“How clever. I grew up in Albuquerque. Do I detect a slight mid-western tinge to your words?”
“Right on. I’m an Indiana farm boy.”
“Right! And with a BS from Purdue at age 17, a PhD from Cal Tech, and a string of awards and achievements as long as your arm. The top dog in the USA in particle physics. Just a humble farm boy? Ha!”
“How’d you know all that?” Charlie looked genuinely puzzled.
Jenny laughed. “It’s part of my job, silly. I have a detailed rundown on almost every VIP that comes to my desk. As soon as I know one is coming, I look up all I can find on them in our visitor’s book. What I don’t have there, I find on the internet. You’d be surprised at how much you can find out about a person in just a few minutes on the net.”
Charlie leaned back in his chair, grinned broadly, hands behind his head. “In other words, you have me at a distinct disadvantage. All I know about you is you are a very pleasant, pretty-as-a-picture, young lady from Albuquerque.”
“Thank you kind sir.” Jenny transformed from coy to matter-of-fact as she stood up. “Now I think it’s about time we headed out for dinner. We can trade personal histories over dinner.”
“Where we goin’?”
“You suggested expensive. That would also mean stuffy, formal atmosphere. I would suggest we concentrate on good food and a lively place. What d’ya say?”
“Not one of those places where you can’t hear yourself think?”
Jenny laughed. “Of course not. My favorite eatery is a great place to talk and listen to quiet music.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“Good food, pleasant atmosphere, but not really very romantic. The ambiance is encouraging to pleasant conversation.”
“Sounds okay! Let’s do it.”
As they stepped into the car Jenny pointed in the general direction of the university. “Head over in that direction. I’ll show you a few things on our way.”
After a short instructive tour of the university grounds, Jenny guided them to a low building almost hidden with huge plants.”
“It’s popular with university faculty and many professionals. Few frills, but great food and service.”
Charlie stepped around the car and opened the door for her. “Sounds like it fits us to a tee.”
Jenny beamed as they walked toward the restaurant. “My goodness. That’s the first time I’ve had a car door opened for me by a man - ever.”
“Seriously? You’re not offended are you.”
“Absolutely not. I’m pleasantly surprised. To quote from an old song, I enjoy being a girl.”
They stepped inside and were seated almost immediately. Tables surrounded central islands, one was a large grille with a copper hood, the other a very Hawaiian salad and desert bar.
Jenny pointed to the grille. “That’s Pele’s Pit. I’m sure you know about Pele.”
“Goddess of the volcano’s fire, right?”
“So, you’ve done your homework.” Jenny smiled, looked around, pointed out several people, and provided their names.
“I don’t know a soul here and you’ve brought me among all you friends?”
Jenny laughed. “I know them just like I knew about you. They each visited Gemini at one time or another. They haven’t the foggiest idea who I am.”
“Okay then, tell me about yourself. I’d like to know more about this pleasant person with whom I’m spending the evening.”
“I’m afraid there’s not much that’s exciting about me.”
“Let me guess. You’ve been to the hot air balloon festival. You have at least some college behind you. Your interest in astronomy led to your job at Gemini. You ran away from home after high school, met a man who brought you to Hawaii and then dumped you penniless, and you work nights as a stripper to make money to further your education and pay for your way back home.”
Jenny howled with laughter. “Okay, I get the message, but how’d you know I worked as a stripper?”
It was Charlie’s turn to laugh. “Touché! I see I’d better watch my step.”
“Just keeping you on your toes.” Jenny’s face shifted gears. Actually, your description hit on some realities. I did leave home after high school and came here with a man.”
“I knew there had to be something wild and crazy about you.”
“The man was my father.”
“Oh!”
“My dad is a specialist on weird concrete buildings and foundations. He was involved in the construction of the foundations for several of the telescopes on Mauna Kea. He brought me along when he was working on the Keck and then the Gemini foundations. I enrolled in Hilo University and decided to stay when his work on the Gemini project was finished and he went off to another project. I needed a job so when Gemini started I applied for the job I have right now. I still go to the university part time and should finish my degree next year.”
“What’s your major?”
“What fits? Astronomy of course.”
“I should have guessed.”
After they ordered dinner, Jenny told him about her family and the home where she grew up. “Other than having a world traveler father and a wonderfully creative mother, I’ve had an uneventful life so far.”
“You mentioned a sister. Were there others?”
“A younger brother, Max, and an older sister, Eileen. My sister Susan gave me this dress. She’s just a year older than I and we’re very close. We look so much alike we often pass for twins. Actually we’re all quite close, but Max is five years younger and still in high school and Eileen is four years older then Susan. She’s married and already has two little guys. They’re adorable and full of mischief. I don’t see them nearly enough since they moved east to Philadelphia.”
“That happens when children grow up and move away.”
“I know, but I still miss seeing them.”
“I know just what you mean.”
“Susan even came out here for a year at the university. We had some wonderful times. Even roomed together. Then she decided to go back to Stanford to get her degree. She won a scholarship she just couldn’t pass up. That was two years ago and though we see each other quite often, I still miss her.”
“Sounds like you have a great family.”
“Yeah. They’re really wonderful. We were very close when we lived at home. Except for Max when he was younger.”
“Your brother? Why was he an exception?”
“Max and I fought almost as far back as I remember. He was always such a pain, the typical mean little brother. I wasn’t very nice to him either. Then an incident changed our relationship. It’s kinda interesting how it happened. Several of my high school girl friends were over after school. We were standing talking in our yard when two boys from school showed up. They were not very nice so I asked them to leave. During the ensuing argument, one boy pushed me to the ground. Suddenly, thirteen year old Max came from nowhere and flew into that boy, fists flying, and bloodied his nose. In spite of their larger size and that there were two of them, they ran out of the yard. They wanted nothing to do with that small fury.”
“He was protecting his family. That’s a very strong instinct.”
“True, but that was very special, to me at least. It completely changed the way I saw Max and our relationship changed dramatically for the better. He turned out to be a great brother.”
“See, he wasn’t so bad after all.”
“It improved his standing in the whole family. Maybe it was just me and my attitude, but the family certainly benefitted. Now we’ve all pretty much gone our separate ways. It’s kinda sad. I hate to think of it, but my folks are probably going to sell that big house and move into an apartment. They really won’t need it after next year when Max goes off to college.”
Charlie stared silently into space for a moment.“Passages - Life is filled with passages.”
“I kinda know what you mean. You spend several years in the same place with the same people, then suddenly, you find yourself in an entirely new place with a whole new group of people. Sometimes they’re your friends. Sometimes not. I remember when I went from middle school to high school it was like that.”
“Exactly. My big one was from military school to the university. That was really traumatic.”
“Tell me about that. I’d like to know more about the real person behind all those big letters.”
“Surely you don’t want my entire life history.”
“Graduating from any university with two degrees at age seventeen says you had a very unusual childhood. Tell me about that and about your family.”
Charlie shook his head. “You really mean it?”
“Positively.”
“Well, okay, but please stop me if I get too boring.”
“Don’t worry, I will. Did you really grow up on a farm?”
“Yep. It was a small family farm in northern Indiana. My mom, a schoolteacher, noted my insatiable curiosity and began tutoring me very early. Probably right from the gitgo she knew I was different. When I started public school at age six, they hardly knew what to do with me. Finally, I was tested and placed at the fifth grade level. Within a few months, Mom and my fifth grade teacher decided the public schools in our rural area couldn’t provide what I needed. After a search of a few weeks they found a boy’s military school with a program for gifted children. Fortunately, I qualified for a grant from a wealthy family who provided money for the education of kids like me. Otherwise it would have cost much more than my parents could afford.
“I remember how scared I was to be going away from home so young. Mom decided to come and stay with me while I started at the school. Fortunately, I soon fit in well with my classmates and it wasn’t long before Mom was able to leave and return home. I went home only during holidays and spent each summer helping on the family farm. I really came to treasure those summers at home. Other than my schooling, I was a relatively normal kid. I enjoyed playing with other children my age. I certainly didn’t see myself as different.”
“I’d say you were most fortunate. So many prodigies become little monsters.”
“Between my parents and the military training by teachers at the school, there was no chance of that. Another thing, those teachers let me learn at my own pace. They moved me ahead and provided advanced assignments as soon as I mastered the subjects. I loved math and physics and during my last two years I was taking courses in those two subjects at a nearby college. I really enjoyed those college courses in spite of the occasional kidding from much older classmates at the university. The military discipline was the hardest thing I had to handle. I followed what I had to, but remained a maverick until graduation from high school. I had just turned thirteen.”
“I can’t see you squelching that independent spirit. It sticks out like a sore thumb in all I’ve seen of you.”
Charlie grinned and looked straight at her. “Believe it or not, I can be very conventional. I just can’t be conventional when it makes no sense to be that way. If that makes me a maverick, so be it.”
Their meal interrupted Charley’s tale. “How about I park my life story tour-bus so we can concentrate on dinner?”
Jenny smiled in agreement. “Sounds like a plan.”
As he finished the last of his steak, Charlie leaned back, shook his head slowly and expressed satisfaction. “Mmmmm . . . You were quite right about the food. It’s fantastic. Now I have that comfortable, not-quite-stuffed feeling. I think I’ll pass on desert.”
“How about a little fresh pineapple, fried? That won’t stuff you and it’s supposed to aid digestion.”
“I’ll bet that’s propaganda started by the pineapple growers, but I’ll go along with your suggestion.”
Jenny looked intently at Charlie as the waitress took the order for the pineapple. “It’s positively scrumptious. You’ll see.” Charlie noticed how Jenny’s eyes crinkled at the corners and sparkled with excitement when she spoke.
“I think I was a senior before I became aware of good restaurant food. Good old fashioned Indiana farm fare was all I ever wanted, until I was taken to a really great Chicago restaurant by one of our professors. It was during a visit to the University of Chicago. I think that was the first time I tasted rare meat and French sauces. I was definitely hooked.”
“That must have been a heady experience for a teen age farm boy. To back up a bit and get back to your story, why Purdue? Surely there must have been some high-powered eastern schools after you.”
“You’re right about that. There were several that pursued my family relentlessly. We jointly decided on Purdue University because they had an excellent Math and Physics program. The fact that it was only a couple of hours from home was another reason. In spite of entering at the sophomore level I spent a full four years there. With her schoolteacher instincts, my mom convinced me to take many courses outside my major subjects. I really have her to thank for that wonderful advice.”
“You were very lucky to have such a fantastic mother. I’ll bet she was very supportive.”
“And loving and caring and dependable. My dad is very quiet, the strong silent type, not very demonstrative. Still, he cared in his own way. I am extremely lucky.”
“Me too. Unfortunately, my dad’s work took him away from home for long periods, but he would be home for weeks at a time between projects. He was very special to me those times he was home.” The sparkle momentarily left Jenny’s eyes when she changed the subject. “I read that you graduated with honors and degrees in both math and physics.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t read what I did with my summers while I was at Purdue.”
“Research at the university?”
Charlie grinned. “Nope. I went home and worked on the farm every summer, just as I did before. There’s something almost spiritual about working the land. I treasured those days in the heat, dust and dirt. The last summer I worked on the farm was the one after I graduated. I savored each and every sight, smell, and experience of that summer, knowing it would be my last. The work was sheer pleasure, deliciously intoxicating. I truly love the land and knew I would never return for another summer’s work. I’ve missed it terribly ever since.”
Jenny’s face slacked into a pensive expression. Her shoulders drooped slightly as she sighed. “Sadly, that’s the way with life. It moves on, often away from things we value.”
Charlie looked at his hands, wistfully. “You never stop caring for those people, places or experiences you truly love. You remember often and sometimes you cry.”
They exchanged sad, knowing looks and sat silent for a moment. Now in full melancholia, Charlie told of the sad parting when the family drove him to the airport in Chicago as he left for Cal Tech and grad school. “I think that was the saddest trip I ever took. Hardly anyone spoke a word during the three hour trip. Even my uncle Charlie, Mom’s older brother, was quiet. He always had something to say. Mom wanted to go to Pasadena with me, but I wouldn’t let her. I wanted to break the silver cord and start my new life on my own. C - the whole family called my uncle Charlie, ‘C.’ C told her, ‘Let the bird try his new wings. He’ll do just fine.’ I’ll have to tell you about C some time.”
“Partings can be so emotional.”
“I don’t think my father understood the pain. All he could do was say, ‘I’ll miss you.’ My mother did understand and hugged me for a long time at the gate. I think I cried more during that flight than ever before or since. I was a sorry sight when I finally arrived in Pasadena. It was three years before I could face going home.”
“You didn’t mention any brothers or sisters.”
“No, I was a spoiled only child.”
“I don’t think you were spoiled.”
“I suppose you’re right. I was lucky on that count as well. My family gave me lots of love and the opportunity to be my own person. I still had to do chores and toe the line my parents set. Farm work teaches lots of self discipline. I was taught to respect and to earn respect as well.”
“What happened at Cal Tech?”
“I always say I came to Cal Tech a neat, clean short-haired mid-western boy in pressed slacks and left a long-haired, rock musician in tattered jeans. I call that progress.”
“That’s some transition.”
“Actually, it wasn’t long after my arrival that my roommate gave me an old guitar that opened up the world of music for me. I always enjoyed music, but that old guitar turned me into a madman. After playing for friends at parties for a few months I started with a local rock group. After a year, I started my own rock band which stayed together until I finished my doctoral thesis. I also worked hard at my studies. The music was an outlet for frustrations and provided balance to my life. The kids we played for began calling me ‘Crazy Charlie’ and our band became ‘Crazy Charlie’s.’ Even my friends at Cal Tech began calling me ‘Crazy Charlie.’ I doubt anyone in our audiences would have believed I was a serious physicist.”
“I can certainly see you in that role. So you stayed on at Cal Tech.”
“Yeh. I mixed rock music and teaching with doing research in particle physics.”
Jenny smiled as she finished her pineapple and pushed back her plate. “Do you still play your guitar?”
“I love my work, my family, my independence, and my rock band. Unfortunately, that results in some weird conflicts. The recognition has its good and bad sides. I tend to downplay it as much as I can. Except for uncle C, my entire family was shocked when I showed up for Christmas with my long hair, jeans and guitar. I had been gone almost three years and it took them a while to get used to the new me. They soon found I was the same Charlie beneath the vastly changed appearance. My music shocked them as well, but when they really listened they heard a highly moral message in the words. I feel strongly about personal morals, drugs, alcohol and tobacco and my music screams out against them and against what I call ‘moral stupidity.’”
“I think I understand what you’re saying, but what does that mean to you?”
“I’m lukewarm about religion and not much of a church goer, but I feel very strongly about morality. To me, all this peer promotion of drugs, alcohol and sex goes against common sense. They call it ‘moral freedom.’ I call it ‘moral stupidity.’ It destroys character, will and personal futures along with individuals, marriages and families. It’s all kinda like smoking cigarettes. The few benefits are so far outweighed by the deadly dangers, it just makes no sense.”
“That is certainly a unique viewpoint.”
“It’s just that I hate stupidity. I feel sorry for those injured, but I really despise the stupid, easily avoidable actions that cause those injuries.”
“Wow, you really feel strongly about that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Maybe it’s because it’s so remote from my work. My music with those messages on morality brought me more and more concerts sponsored by churches and religious organizations. At one of these performances, a woman from a detention home for troubled youths came to me and asked if I would play, sing and then talk to these youths. She thought I could be a very positive role model and might be able to reach some of the youths.”
“And did you?”
“I certainly hope so. That first one was quite an experience. After my concert and talk were finished, one young man challenged my stand on about everything from drugs to sex. I remember the verbal exchange quite well, along with what happened after.
“Why should I give up girls, booze and getting’ high on dope? I really like bein’ bad with them all. Might as well be dead if I quit.” His fellow prisoners laughed and repeated his comment.
That started things and I replied, “Well, for one thing, being ‘bad’ as you say, got you in here in the first place. I don’t call that bad, just stupid! Do you like being in this place?”
“Course not. Anyway, I won’t get caught next time,” he replied to a chorus of “yeahs” from his friends.
“You don’t have to be caught to be punished. If you’re that stupid, you’ll punish yourself. Have you ever visited the drug rehab section at a prison hospital? It’s filled with guys like you just a few years older. No one should have to go through the hell they put themselves through and that’s right where you’re headed. How about the drunk tank at the local jail? Does the smell of vomit and pee please you? You guys are trapped by your own ignorance. Pleasure and then pain, pleasure and more pain, over and over again until you die. If you like getting high, try something that will help you, not harm you, something that you can never “OD” on.”
“What the hell is that? I’ll try some,” came from one voice from the group.
Then I really let them have it. “I call it getting smart, being your own man, being in control of yourself and not being a patsy for guys making a fortune from your stupidity. You guys are like pigs being led to the slaughterhouse. You don’t know where you’re going, but everybody else is headed in the same direction, so you’ll just go with the flow. You’ve given up on leading your own lives and doing your own thinking. You let the guys with the drugs and booze tell you what to do and then you do it. They used to call that slavery and fought a war to abolish it!
After an angry response from the young inmates, I kept it up. “Good! You should be angry! Ask yourselves if you’re angry at the truth and at me for speaking the truth, which is what I just gave you. Or are you really angry at yourselves for being so stupid as to obey the controls of those making money on your stupidity? Go look at the face in your mirror. Do you see a pig on the way to slaughter or a man who can think for himself? Think about it! Your life depends entirely on your choices. Are you a pig or a man? Only you can answer that and you will, one way or another!
“After the confrontation and the angry comments were over, I challenged them to consider their future. Soon, I was talking to the young men about the highs of learning about new things. Then and there I decided if I ever had the chance to talk to a group like this again, I would polish my presentation to get a less angry response. I envisioned a larger group losing control of their anger. Not a pretty picture.
“As I was leaving, the woman who invited me said she thought my message went over quite well. I explained that, for a while, I was afraid I stepped on their toes a little too hard.
“She replied, ‘I think they needed that jolt to get their attention. They were not as close to losing control as you might think. A lot of that anger was posturing to impress fellow inmates. We keep a fairly tight lid on things here. I’d like to have you back in a few months. Their response will tell us a lot about the effectiveness of your message.’
“I agreed to return. I saw those boys as such a waste. It’s a shame to waste even one human life that way. I was invited to many other youth groups, detention homes and prisons in the years to follow. It was very rewarding to hear that my music and talks were credited with turning quite a few lives around.”
Jenny shook her head in amazement. “That information wasn’t included in my notes about you, but it certainly should be. You really are a very special person.”
Charlie stood up as they started to leave. “You’re a pretty special person yourself.”
Warm thoughts and feelings toward this pretty little lady in the pale blue dress coursed through the young man from Indiana. A significant silence followed them as they walked to the car. Soft images occupied both their minds. When Charlie opened the door, he managed a few intelligible words through the warm fuzzy fog that clouded his thoughts.
“Well, where to now little tour guide?”
Jenny sat down and stared straight ahead. Her mind just refused to function normally. Her voice simply would not respond. Charlie started the car and sat there without moving. Suddenly their eyes met and locked for a moment that seemed to go on endlessly. A bright flash from the lights of a car turning in front of them finally broke their common trance and reality returned. Jenny snapped back to action.
“Wow, what - oh yes, where are we going?”
“I think that’s what I just asked. - Did we just go through a time warp or something?
“I don’t know, but let’s head out before it hits us again.”
“Which way?”
“I think we’d better call it a night. If I’m to show you much of the island we’ll have to head out early, say seven?”
Charley headed for Jenny’s apartment just a few minutes away. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I’m still functioning partially on California time so seven won’t be too early for me.”
“I’ll have breakfast ready when you get here. That way we can hit the road right away.”
“Great!”
“Have any preferences for breakfast?”
“I’m sure whatever you fix will be fine.”
Just then they pulled up to Jenny’s door. “You don’t have to get out.”
“Ah, but I do. If my mom ever heard I didn’t walk a young lady to her door, she’d never speak to me again.”
A walk to the door, a courteous good night, and Charlie headed for his hotel.
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This book is one example of a number of 7" by 8½" and 5½" by 8½" booklets of 50 to 100 pages on a number of subjects. This one, Genesis 2012, is the companion booklet to my lecture, Science and Religion, a Reconciliation. There are at least a dozen others covering a wide range of subjects including, A new Way to Look at the Universe, a very different theory of how the universe works: SOLUTIONS, a set of realistic solutions to many of our most serious problems: Anthropogenic Global Warming and Other Myths, the realities of climate change relative to man’s efforts: Bully for Global Warming, The positive effects of a warming Earth and increased atmospheric carbon dioxide: Predictions, of several times and subjects: The Publications of Senesis Word, a description of all Senesis Word publications with excerpts.HoJo’s Calling and SW info http://hjcalling.blogspot.com
