Sometimes, it’s the shock factor that’s mild enough to offend

To address the concept of freedom, one asks oneself what is the attitude one adopts to question “the concept of freedom.”

Tonight, the one who addresses the question is the one who writes the words, thinking in broader scopes outside of one’s inner circle yet operating within one’s circle of influence.

One is.

Yet, one is not.

There is no “one” that exists outside of space and time, separate from the universe.

One chooses, therefore, to write upon subjects of personal interest to answer the question, “Who am I in this moment that constitutes who I was and who I was not a moment before?”

What are decisions I make or made that move me out of one swimming lane and into another?

What are the masks, the walls, the false identities that divide the bigger concept of me seen by myself in a mirror and seen by those sets of states of energy that clearly are not me within the timeframe of seconds/months/decades?

To be sure, a breath from another person can be inhaled by me — to whom do the molecules “belong”?

Why would someone be nice to me for no other reason than to share a moment when two male whitetail deer should be walking closeby, eating apples under a line of apple trees near the creek the same as any other dusk in the past few weeks?

I am not a complex person.  I do not compose symphonies or design planetary socioeconomic systems from scratch.

I am a person who loves the person who has been a constant part of his life for 40 years but who loves a lot of other people, too.

I test social situations, then report what I observe.

I am what some people call devious.

I am helpful, courteous, kind, cheerful, thrifty and friendly but not always obedient, trustworthy, loyal, brave, clean and reverent.

I listen in order to learn.

If people don’t mind me being devious, then I don’t mind using our connections and our friendships for good stories.

There are many new characters to introduce to our main story and I have the better part of this week to get them written down, their lives painted on this canvas for posterity, giving them a place in our Martian colony, our Moon base and our Earth support network.

Some of them coincide with the lives of people I’ve met, some people more like acquaintances I’ve bumped into and other people I’ve gotten to know better than I know myself.

I remind myself in this blog entry that writing about people I know, putting their words and actions into my thoughts so I can imagine what they’ll do in imaginary situations is not the same as my living their lives, although it might be.

I have to see how much I can stretch my imagination and how much I choose to look at the limits I’ve placed on my thoughts and actions, deciding which limits were set arbitrarily at one point in my life and no longer apply.

Is it “art” above all else, including my subcultural expectations?

What am I doing here in this blog?

As a person fully aware of his surroundings, what am I willing to say is background noise and ignore?  What of the background noise is worth my attention?  What is in my face that is masking something more important?  What needs to be in my face that isn’t?

These questions set my thought patterns in motion for this week’s stories.

The answers may or may not involve me, but they will certainly involve the characters who appear in future blog entries.

Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we blast off toward new horizons!

Kickstarter Update #2

Good afternoon, buoys and gulls!

Today is an important day here at Project Xceed Xpectations.  We’ve decided, while finishing the details on our business plan, to introduce you to the project itself.

First of all, let’s give it a name, shall we?  Here ya go!:

All Sols Day

All Sols Day is an Internet-based serial story, in the format of sitcom-meets-reality TV, about life on Mars, mixing cartoon-style graphics with live footage of the first landing, exploration and settlement of Mars.

The Kickstarter campaign will offer you different levels of participation:

  1. an email/text message “thank you”
  2. a simple postcard
  3. a variety of bumper/notebook stickers
  4. a cutout construction paper book with main characters
  5. autographs by the key players on a poster
  6. a DVD of the first season
  7. your very own kit including electronic components for building a duplicate of the spaceship, landing craft, exploration vehicle(s) and habitation modules

Those are all some of the preliminary “thanks” levels we have proposed to our Creative Arts department for completion within a reasonable waiting time by you, our patient contributors and supporters.

We’ve asked the producers and crew if any of them would be willing to travel to your home, office or event for a public speaking engagement as part of a high-donation “thanks” participation level.  We’re working on the legal details at this time.

We’re also in negotiations with a replica construction company to make a vehicle that could “launch” your child and land your child on a simulated Martian surface where your child could explore and set up a habitation module during a two-week period, but the cost — hundreds of thousands of dollars — would be hard to justify without knowing there’s full interest by at least a few parents willing to fund a Mars Exploration Camp for kids.

Well, there you have it!  Are you excited yet?

Our friends in the space business have asked us to make this project a success, putting into the minds of the people that Mars settlement is a given fact because we know there will be setbacks along the way and want them fully onboard with the good, the bad and the ugly future.

You or your child may one day be part of the real Mars exploration team.  Today is the day to find out how you can make that dream a reality!

A new character enters the picture

Eoj was hired by the Mars Tourist Bureau to train travelers who would spend a few weeks in a space capsule, their bodies confined to not much more than a water closet there-and-back on their Moon-to-Mars holiday.

Eoj, half-Greek, half-Egyptian, had survived wars and skirmishes his whole childhood and jumped at the chance to serve aboard the ISS Dionysius, the flagship vessel that traveled from the Moon to Mars, packed full of tourists and their supplies needed to feed and care for them during their whole time traveling through space, in acclimation facilities orbiting Mars and on the Red Planet itself.

During the offseason, when Earth and Mars alignment made the trip prohibitively expensive, Eoj took martial arts and dance lessons which he in turn was able to share with tourists during their spaceflight, using a small corridor between their living quarters to exercise tourists in small groups of two or three.

Before his Mars Tourist Bureau job, Eoj had met Guin at an Earth dance studio when Guin was first brought in for physical therapy.  They had become dance partners because they shared the love of dance over many of their other hobbies and interests.

As Guin was finishing her PhD in rocket propulsion, she accepted the assignment to become an integral part of the ISSA Net, allowing her body to be monitored in realtime, accelerating her physical conditioning, with a bonus network interface that gave her the ability to simply think her thoughts to members of the ISSA Net without talking or using archaic input devices like phones or computers.

Eoj had opted not to accept full ISSA Net interfacing, believing that a “real” man kept himself in reserve.

Eoj and Guin excelled in their dance training and soon become part-time instructors at the studio, each taking on a small number of students, sometimes passing one student to the other when their regular work schedules conflicted with the students’ availability for lessons.

From this perspective, Eoj was able to observe more about Guin.

Eoj saw that he was not the only one who wanted to dance with her.

He had taken on Lee and Lee’s wife, Karen, as dance students early in Eoj’s dance instructor days so the three of them were guinea pigs for the dance studio owner, Disdry, a veteran of the World Peasant War, a set of military skirmishes that spread around Earth, wiping out whole sections of the peasant population desperate for food and a meaning for their miserable existence, including jobs or positive views of them in the mainstream press.

Thus, Disdry, although a smooth dancer, was a stern taskmaster with his instructors, a little rough around the edges.

Vulnerable during their first few months on the job, Eoj trying to get back on his feet after a tough job loss and Guin during the mental recovery associated with her physical therapy, Eoj and Guin gave Disdry more leeway to control them than had they been stronger socioeconomically.

Eoj worked with Lee and Karen under Disdry’s watchful eye.  Sometimes, after a particular tough time getting Lee or Karen to learn what should have been a simple dance move, Eoj would sigh and plop down in Disdry’s office.  Disdry would frequently offer constructive criticism but sometimes he would lash out, using cold, cruel humour to knock Eoj’s ego to the ground, which didn’t help Eoj at all for the next lesson with Lee and Karen, conditioned to expect verbal abuse from Disdry if Eoj was unable to show progress with a couple who sometimes just didn’t get it, regardless of Eoj’s instructing ability.

One day, Eoj was out of town and asked Guin to teach Lee and Karen.

Although Lee and Guin already knew each other, they walked into the dance lesson as newbies.

Guin had her own problems with Disdry’s treatment of her but had not yet received beratement in relation to training Lee and Karen so she was able to look at them without fear or trepidation.

Guin spent most of the lesson showing Lee the leader part of the waltz and foxtrot moves he had learned the week before, the two of them moving more easily as one than Lee had been dancing with his wife.  Karen spent most of the lesson watching and feeling ignored, not wanting another lesson with Guin because she felt that all Guin had done was teach Lee had to dance with her rather than with his wife.

The next week, Eoj noticed a change in Karen, sensing that she was more interested in him as an instructor and devoted his time to teaching them, getting more progress in that lesson than in the previous two months, even showing them a few fun moves that were not part of their official curriculum.  Although they had fun, Eoj was scolded by Disdry for going outside of the syllabus, dampening any enthusiasm Eoj had for seeing Lee and Karen the next week.

Because of this up-and-down treatment at the studio, Eoj built up expectations for the weekly social dance on Fridays when the students had the opportunity to try out their newly-learned moves in an actual social setting, the instructors available for advice and social dancing.  Eoj anticipated dancing with Guin and she with him, so they could practice moves they wanted to perfect for other venues.

As much as Eoj liked dancing with Guin, and noticed she did, too, he also observed that he was not the only one.

There seemed to be a virtual line of guys waiting to dance with Guin, including single and married men willing to leave their women alone in order to get a dance with Guin.

Added to that, Disdry informed Eoj that one of the students, a single women in her early 40s named Eternia, desired to dance with Eoj but Eoj always seemed to dance with Guin just when Eternia got up the nerve to ask Eoj to dance with her, or just felt outright ignored by him altogether, complaining that Eoj and Guin spent the whole Friday night dancing with each other rather than with their students.

Eoj accepted his “punishment” and reduced his dancing time with Guin, asking students, both his and those taught by Guin or Disdry, for individual dances.

Guin followed Eoj’s example and danced with students, including her boyfriend, Kirby, who showed up occasionally but had a problem with large crowds so he tended to avoid coming unless he had to.  Guin found herself dancing more often with Jersey, a shy man who had started social dancing lessons in order to look and feel more comfortable when he ventured out to nightclubs.

Guin was an encouraging instructor and boosted Jersey’s confidence, taking him with her to a dance competition in New Orleans.  Even though they didn’t win, it gave Jersey the impetus he needed to try other things, such as volunteering at the local youth symphony and competing in mountain bike races, eventually leaving Guin without a competitive dance partner once again.

When, with guidance from her new friend, Bai, Guin got the assignment to go to Mars, Eoj began questioning why he was stuck at the dance studio “alone” with Disdry.  Guin wanted to help Bai so she convinced him to get a job working with Kirby transporting blood products to hospitals and clinics in the area.

Eoj enjoyed his transportation job as the “Blood Man,” every now and then running into a former student or someone who knew who he had to be because of his unique rugged look as a GrecoEgyptian, shorter than average but built like a football player — broad shoulders, large chest and muscular arms — able to lift and throw a woman like Guin, several inches taller than him, with ease and grace.

A member of the board of directors for the Mars Tourist Bureau, Minten Kyun, badly injured in a helicopter crash and in critical need of blood transfusions, later heard, during excruciating recovery, that the well-thought-out, timely-but-safe driving by Eoj of blood from one hospital to the one where Minten was being pieced together, saved Minten’s life.

As soon as he could, Minten sent the word to Eoj to see him.

Eoj had never heard of the Mars Tourist Bureau so he was surprised that a complete stranger would offer him a job in such a specialised field as space travel.

“Welcome, Eoj Cappernopolus.  I’m Minten Kyun.  Please have a seat.”

Eoj plopped down into a plush red leather chair beside Minten, whose eyes flicked back-and-forth every now and then, a sign that he was communicating over the ISSA Net using the visual neurons of his brain.

“Thanks for asking me here.  So, your voicemail said you want to hire me for the Mars Tourist Bureau?  You know I don’t have any astronaut training, I assume.”

“Yes, Eoj, I do.  But not every job at the MTB requires a specialised pilot’s license.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If you knew nothing else about the job, would you take it?”

“Umm…”

“I mean, how would you describe what you think about a job like this?”

“Well, that’s the thing.  I don’t know what the job is.”

“Good point.  What have you heard about the MTB?”

“Not much, frankly.  I’m sure I’ve heard of it in the news but I haven’t been focused on it, if you know what I mean, my financial situation not geared toward exotic space travel.”

“Of course.  So you’re not a fanboy of space exploration?  You don’t fantasize about a life on the Moon or Mars?”

“Not really.  Does that mean you aren’t interested in me, then?”

“Quite the contrary!  I want someone for this job who wants a challenge but doesn’t go into it with starry eyes wearing rose-coloured glasses, or who holds high hopes for a job and makes a mistake because he was so disappointed by reality he lost focus.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s the other thing about you.  You follow orders from others without letting your questioning authority get in the way of the whole organisation achieving its goals.  Do you know how hard it is to get someone who thinks independently outside the box but knows there are larger issues at stake?  I believe you are the man for this job.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t you want to know when you’re going to start?”

“Haha.  Isn’t there paperwork I’m supposed to fill out, a personality profile and physical fitness test I’m supposed to take or something?”

“Yeah, yeah.  We’ll put you through the formal wringer but I’m assured you’ve already passed.”

“So, when do I start?”

“That’s what I wanted to hear!  You start right now.  Welcome aboard, Eoj!”

“Thank you, Mister?  Misses?”

“Ah, I appreciate you not assuming anything about me.  Just call me Minten.  If you don’t mind, I’m going to hand you over to my assistant, Naad, who will get you started on a career that only two other people have been offered and accepted.  Eoj, you are an exclusive club member now.  I hope you know that.”

“Thanks.  I’m sure if you say it’s as good as it sounds, it probably is, being who you are and all that, a megabillionaire they say.”

“Don’t let money fool you, Eoj.  Wealth does not make you wise.  I hope I’m richer in wisdom than the rest.  But let’s get you on the road to your own riches, shall we?  Once you’re part of the MTB, you get shares in the corporation just like me and everyone else.  Here’s Naad.  Best wishes, my friend.  I’ll see you soon, perhaps on a trip to the Moon or Mars, if not sooner!”

Months passed before Eoj saw Guin again, his training schedule filling his days, simulating the space trip several times in a row so that Eoj was fully capable of handling both calculated emergencies and unanticipated calamities as well as integrating his personality traits into the ISSA Net for processing and compatibility training for the other crew members as they were hired and put through the simulator training.

Entering the simulator phase of the MTB “boot camp,” Eoj had resisted being wholly integrated into the ISSA Net so his trainers had offered him a track of gradual sensory input connectivity enhancements, showing him how his body became more alive and alert with the aid of ISSA Net body monitoring, holding off on full mental connectivity until Eoj convinced himself it was for not just the betterment of society but also his personal gain.

If time does not exist, why do I write as if I pretend it does?

Jogging in my neighbourhood is an adventure encountering wild nocturnal animals.

Last night, an armadillo literally scurried under me, going perpendicular to my path as I was in mid-running stride, its claws clickety-clacking on the asphalt pavement — the scene triggers a funny phrase in my thoughts: macadam, I’m Mac, Adam, and I’m having a Big Mac attack.

Tonight it was a juvenile raccoon I scared up a tree.

I’ve almost run over a possum more than once.

Tonight, a young woman walking her dog in the darkness almost ran over me, the dog’s bark scaring me out of my shoes and sending me light on my feet at a fast jogging pace away from woman, leash and territorially protective canine companion.

“Territorially” is not the best adverb in that last sentence is it?  I’ve gotten sloppy in my writing lately, haven’t I, giving too much weight to the thoughts behind the written words than to the grammatical deconstructionismalarianisms.

Interjecting an exclamation!  Yes I am!  Declarative statement!  Maybe?

In any case, it’s nice to relax my thought patterns, if not my core (head, torso and arms) just yet.

In a few hours, it will be the day of the 27th wedding anniversary of me and my first wife.

Yes, that’s right, I’m not counting the girlfriends who’ve filled my dreams with fancy holidays on the Riviera (that’s the 1969 Buick Riviera rusting in the backyard — you knew that, though, didn’t you?).

Ahh…deja vu all over again, deja vu all over again…we’re sorry that we didn’t have time to include Matt Damon in this sketch.  However, we have time to plug a few holes in the plots of films, including any good Bollywood movie that puts the beautiful love interest and well-timed dancing scenes ahead of a logical storyline.

A shoutout to Bill Neiland, president of Haul Couture; Rainy, Dream, Ferdie and kitchen at Thai Garden (Rainy, my dear, we’ve got to take you on a spontaneous weekend getaway with whomever you want to make the trip the most fun!); John Carroll’s new self checkout configuration at Walmart; Mapco; the Iafrate construction crew and their state trooper support; Peyton Powell and his new job at Volvo equipment rental; the Toyota repair shop, which is having fun quickly fixing all the small items that keep breaking on our 2013 Avalon; anyone I’ve met lately, such as Amber at Rebath, whom I haven’t named.

Even though two Thai teas usually keep me awake, tonight I’m tired enough to sleep, my conscious conscience cleared of old thoughts and ready to tackle a new project at the light of day tomorrow.

Mars needs my attention!

Dragging the people along for a ride

Ever looked at our planet?

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Lots of blue with some greens, browns and whites thrown in for contrast, is’nt it?

What about the pyramids of little creatures who tend to bond into tribes?

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Imaginary pyramids that intersect, a few so much larger than the others that they dominate many, many pyramids all at once (freely use your imagination here).

They blend, in other words.

The people at the top of the pyramid are constantly communicating pyramid-to-pyramid by the blended actions and opinions of their minions mixed into multiple pyramid intersections.

We may say that Obama, Hollande, Cameron and Putin are not talking to each other but there’s plenty of communication between their organisations, officially outside the public view.

That is why Mars decided to eliminate the pyramids and implement a peer-to-peer network, a meshing of independent nodes having full access to competitive data to reduce communication issues.

We’ll get back to that history lesson later.  Let’s show you what used to happen on the old home planet, via a demonstration.  Case in point: the proposed international military action in the geographical region of Earth called Syria.

Decisions were made months in advance at lower echelon levels of the pyramids but official announcements are designed to make it look like decisions are made in realtime news.

Watch and learn!

Scrum with rum on the run in the rain

Tonight I will sleep.

How much can two (or more) people synchronise their states of energy?

Bai floated across the room, feeling ill, tired from her travels across the planet’s surface, to-and-from the Orbiter Entertainment Conference Centre circling Mars.

An ancient, well-preserved copy of the Oxford Multilingual Dictionary suspended in a stationary position above Lee’s desk.

“Are you okay?”

Bai shrugged.  “I didn’t sleep well last night, got maybe 2 marshours’ sleep, same the night before.”

“Do you want to practice our dance?”

Bai attempted a weak smile.  “That’s why I’m here.  Let’s do it.”

As they stepped through the first 40 marsecs of their routine repeatedly, they stopped occasionally for a break.

Bai stopped and looked Lee in the eyes.  “Look at this.”

In his thoughts, Lee watched a conversation between Bai and a man whose identity was left blank.

The man walked up to Bai in the conference centre bar.  “I know everything about you.”

“You do.”

“Yeah.  You got that tattoo within the last few weeks, didn’t you?”

“Nope.  Had it for over two years.”

“No you didn’t.  I said I know you.  You just got it.”

“Sorry, but you’re wrong.”

“I missed you.  Where have you been the last two weeks?”

“I was out of town.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was working.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“I thought you knew everything about me.”

[The sound of crickets chirping had been inserted from Bai’s longterm memory.]

Bai stopped showing her memory to Lee.  “What do you think of that?”

“That guy…he…”

“He’s the chief of police, that’s who he is.  Thinks his orbiter privileges give him some sort of special abilities.”

“Did you give him that look of yours?”

Bai made a face that said ‘Are you talking to me?’

Lee smiled.  He responded to everyone differently, some making him laugh uncontrollably.  Bai gave him a warm feeling inside just by being herself, cracking her jokes that were so funny to Lee he was embarrassed to let himself let his boyish guffaw snort out loud.  “Did that turn him off?”

“I wish.  He even said he had a special friendship with my boyfriend, said that my boyfriend, being military, was going to leave me.  I told his he was wrong.  My boyfriend is French — French boyfriends have to go on to the next woman — it’s in their DNA.”

Bai sat down, exhausted.  She took a few sips of energy water and a few drops of baby food formula.  “This is the best stuff, no matter what they say.”

Lee nodded.

After their dance showcase practice, they worked on a few moves from a historic dance form called Lindy Hop.

Bai described the best she could how the dance moves should appear in engineering terms, which Lee quickly absorbed.

They cut their practice short because Bai was feeling too weak to go on.

Later that day, Guin met Lee for more dance practice.  They reviewed their previous dance lesson stored on the ISSA Net, seeing where they needed improvement and went from there.

Lee’s empathetic neuron net was extra sensitive to people who triggered his proximity sensor array, most notably Bai and Guin in the last few days.  His brain circuitry surged with pulsating neurochemical signals, flooding his thoughts with old, broken memories, incomplete images and uncategorised emotions, all at the same time.

After the lesson review, Lee allowed his thoughts to relax, leaving unanswered questions from earlier in the week to fade into the background.

However, as they warmed up, Guin sensed Lee’s tense shoulders and arms.  She told him to relax, let their arms connected to their hands form a smiley face.

Lee’s conscious thoughts understood the word “relax” but after a terrible car smashup on Earth when he was a teenager, Lee had forgotten how to translate the word into action for the nerves, muscles, ligaments and tendons of his left arm and shoulder.

He did not have the knowledge to ask Guin what “relax” meant.  He wanted to learn but his thoughts were still disconnected from the past few days of rewiring habitual pathways.

Guin kept working on the dance steps with Lee, slowly working with him to forget what he was doing, no longer thinking but dancing the steps, closing the gap between them and fading Lee’s personal space into nothingness.

Lee could have let the ISSA Net get rid of the annoying brain-muscle connection problems but he was “old skoowuhl” as Shadowgrass called him and liked the challenge of the personal struggle of his current self forming around and against the previous versions of himself left in deadends and byways of his central nervous system.

They knocked out the steps.

Next on Lee’s list was working through the unexplored feelings he had for Guin and Bai, decades old, just as Bai could recall an old man named Marcus she remembered training when the man was a teenager.

There was so much more to learn about them and their shared connections.

But what’s a lifetime for if one can’t return to Earth in one’s thoughts and go wakeboarding every now and then?

Guin and Lee checked in on Shadowgrass to see how his homework was coming along.  Shadowgrass was studying the history of the extinct social system called politics, trying to understand the need for hierarchical bureaucratic layers of society once called government.  “Dad, did we really used to waste so much energy on superfluous levels of managing our species’ resource needs?”

“Yes, son, we did.  That’s why Earth’s climate changed so drastically over a short period of time.  Mismanaged priorities.”

“I’m glad we’re not like that.”

Me, too, son.  Me, too.”

Guin turned to go.  “Sorry, guys, but I’ve got a rover’s load of work to do at the lab.  Lee, please practice the apache move we went over.  I want you to have it down to a science when I get back next sol.”

“Sure thing.  Don’t work too hard.”

“‘Work’?  You mean, don’t have too much fun!”

The three of them laughed at Lee’s slip.  ‘Work’ had almost completely left the common language of Mars, replaced by Martian society’s ability to shift colonisation needs according to the abilities and desires of the nonrobotic inhabitants such as humans.

As Lee rolled into bed alone, he found himself crying, a memory of his father passing through his thoughts.  He still loved his father after all these years, having forgiven his father for unknowingly mistreating his son in his attempt to raise his son the best way he knew how in the moment and based on his personality shaped by his own father’s mistreatment of him.

Living longer didn’t make old memories go away, just more memories to choose from, the earliest ones gaining or fading in strength as memories accumulated and cross-referenced themselves.

His mother didn’t raise a fool, just watched him often make a fool of himself as he grew up.

Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart meet the Mad Hatter in the Victorian era

Historians have never paid attention to one fact: our history was written by our parents before we were born.

Their actions, just like ours for our children, set the stage for their direct descendants.

You must have a clear understanding of that solid principle, that unwritten immutable law of the universe, before going on with this story.

For you see, before they were born, two famous aviators met Lewis Carroll’s inspiration for a memorable fictional character whilst Queen Victoria reigned.

While the middle-class prudes proved their noble worth, the threesome of Earhart, Lindbergh and the Mad Hatter went off on an adventure.

Ever had a three-wheeled vehicle in which all three wheels steered independently?  Most likely not.  Either one wheel turns and the other two point permanently in one direction, or two wheels turn in synch with each other and the third wheel points permanently in one direction.

So it was with our flyers and their eccentric co-conspirator who set out on an unpublished expedition.

Unpublished until now, that is.

Ground into a pulp and turned into a felt hat were the notes, diaries and maps used by the explorers.  It wasn’t until a new computer deciphering program was invented by a retired secret agent to ferret out the hidden codes in the city maps of foreign countries that the threads and fibers of the felt hat were pulled apart and reassembled in their original form.

The hat sat in a hat box as hats are wont to do, taking up space in the attic of one Hegrapevinucus Forvell, the famous daguerreotypist who had documented the lives of both the famous and notorious across two centuries.

M. H. Forvell died and left his fortune to a geographic feature named Pilot Knob in middle Tennessee, not far from Readyville, where his belongings were carted and stored in caves carved out of the rock.

Using an aeroplane-engined dirigible, Earhart navigated her two companions over the knob, spotting the secret caves one early dawn morning.

They tethered their lighter-than-air craft to an old pine tree and descended a rope ladder to the caves.

Stored in giant clay jars sealed with impenetrable tar and humongous glass jars sealed with water-resistant wax were the life’s work of Forvell.

Much of the information was repetitious — farm harvest records and stock market buys/sales/trades, for instance.

But one container held a series of inventions, some patented and some stamped “For My Eyes Only,” including one for converting printed paper or paper covered with handwriting into articles of clothing, wallpaper glue or, to the interest of M. Hatter, a felt top hat.

From then on, when one of the three had finished a logbook or diary, the Hatter would use Forvell’s secret formula to reconstitute the water-dissolved and shredded logbook or diary pages, forming hat shapes.

None of them was a more prolific writer than the other.  However, multiplying their output by three meant quite a few journals were filling up on a weekly basis, driving the Hatter mad with desire to create as many new styles of hats as he could — tall, skinny, fat, short, see-through, invisible, and everything in-between.

Eventually the Hatter ran out of ideas for new hats and the two pilots realised they needed to return to public life.

Before they did, their records show they had more fun in a short period of time than should be legal (and some of it wasn’t!).

While they were tethered to Pilot Knob, they overheard some old-timey mountain music, the good stuff, hypnotic, said to turn you inside out, stop the motion of the planets and move you and the world around you over to the parallel train track of alternate universes.

Little did they know that they had changed their timeline.

They also had inadvertently invented a new social period called Steampunk.

The song they heard that changed history?  Well, you already know what it is: “Keep My Skillet Good and Greasy,” written so far back up in the hills, no one had heard of sheet music or sound recording devices, so no one knows exactly when the song was first created or by whom.

And by changing history, Lindbergh, Earhart and the Hatter changed everything, including the style of dancing the local people performed to their mountain music.

No longer did they buck or clog dance.  They started a new craze, a dance sensation called the Lindy Hop and their clothing style became the name of the new era — Steampunk.

To get back to that time, Guin and Lee adopted the Steampunk clothing style and started learning a Lindy Hop dance routine that would induce a hypnotic trance and send them out of one spacetime continuum into another.

They had also found some of Forvell’s writings and wanted to create their own electromechanical wonders based on Forvell’s notes scribbled on incomplete inventions.

But which would you rather read about — how Guin and Lee invented a new form of space travel or what Earhart, Lindbergh and the Mad Hatter discovered but had told no one because it was so earth-shakingly stupendous?

Don’t answer flippantly.

The answer you receive will shift history again, maybe by only the slightest change but also maybe by large changes all jumbled up together.

Be willing to accept the changes your answer causes.

Alice may never return from Wonderland and you don’t want that, I can tell you!

Wally Gee Willacres

Sometimes I forget the simple phrase like “a member of Congress who threatens sanctions will now be designated an official international economic terrorist and subject to prosecution to the full extent of the law” is more than the sum of the numerology values of its words.

I forget a lot of things.

I forgot that I left a bunch of scientists stranded in a subsubsubbasement corridor during reconstruction and then got their last laugh by posting a satirical blog entry called “My selfie.”

And here I thought I was hacked.  Hacked off is more like it.

They also got their next-to-last laugh by rigging a Leap Motion device in front of my neglected Robosapien, connecting its movements to the RS Media mechs in the streets of your town such that, sometime in the next few days, there will be a worldwide flash mob dance performed by what you always ignored as homeless alcoholic beggars.

The scientists promise complete chaos as it will appear they have hacked the minds of ordinary citizens, turning regular people into dance-happy zombies.

I mean, what’s next?  An uncontrollable orgy covering every home, school, office, hospital and farm?

If humans can be overtly convinced that they’re under the influence of hidden forces, dancing to the beat of invisible choreographers as seen on global TV/Internet channels…well, what’s to stop them from thinking about the subtle, subliminal, subversive influences that control their lives?

Remind me never to lose track of my scientists again.

The head of an ISP I recently talked with said she is thinking about running a background check on all her customers.  Instead of turning over email and account information to the government, she plans to delete the accounts of customers who work for the government, turning the power back over to the people.

I wished her luck.  “Live Free or Die” is a great motto but so is “United We Stand, Divided We Fall.”

Others worth considering:

Thanks to Abi at Madison Ballroom; Harold at KCDC; the head cowboy and his cowpokes (congrats to the one whose wife just had a 6-lb baby girl named Chloe) at Chuck Wagon BBQ.