Another radical spike in Interweb/Series of Tubes viewings... thanks, fans. Nearly enough to consider the capitalistic option of 'monetizing' this puppy.
"Don't believe in fear
Don't believe in faith
Don't believe in anything
That you can't break..."
Garbage's incredibly catchy "Stupid Girl" (Not to imply anything sexist, of course. It's a great song, that's all. Get over the title.)
Let us speak of 'growth opportunities.' They come and you either take them or you don't. Life tosses them about, like dry leaves in stiff downdrafts at times, and we can just hope to make sense of them. The grey area is very thin between 'going forward' and 'riding the current.' If you're really fortunate, some of them turn into 'Bucket List 100' memories. I've had a few lucky breaks...
1. I've driven a heavy battle tank 1300+ miles in West Germany and qualified as a gunner.
2. I've climbed Mount Fuji. In October, after the first snows.
3. I've had a wild crow land on my arm. (Sonoma County, California.)
4. I've partied with an Olympic luge team, speaking German, in Nagano, Japan. (+3 randomness)
5. I've caught a piece of paper in the wind, and it was something I'd written in a college newspaper.
6. I've been to Paris, France (and I smelt someone's underpants.)
7. I've fended off a bear with a mylar survival blanket in the Grand Tetons.
8. I've had a big rattlesnake two steps away at a jobsite, Tucson. He wasn't there 2 minutes before.
9. I've crawled through a slimy old pirate's cave. (Cheung Chau, Hong Kong SAR)
10. I walked through the smoldering rubble of 9/11 in NYC, just weeks after, with my brothers.
11. I've been inside the Pentagon. More than once.
12. I've been inside the FBI's HQs in New York City. (Beyond the 8" lexan door.)
13. I've left coins in the Colosseum in Rome, and in the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Italy.
14. I've hit a hub-cap with a 22. call rifle shot at 50 yards, whilst blindfolded.
15. I've been tied off by a world record-holding high-rock climber. (Yosemite National Park.)
16. I've managed to keep most of my old friends...
SO many more to go...
"HELM, confer with NAV in order to commence landing sequence for AMHRF. WEPS, SCIENCE - on your toes. I want full data-sets on the way in. Could be useful in the future."
"Blinx, Klargen."
"XO?" I privated to him. "You're ready, I assume."
"Aye, Klargen," he winked back to me.
"XO, you have the CONN," I pushed back in public.
I wanted to see him in command for a few minutes, and it didn't fall lightly on the bridge crew that I had given him this task - I trusted him - and that direct trust is big in their estimations. Build morale if you can, I always say.
"WEPS, configure counter-stealth, SCIENCE maintain full holography, HELM confine maneuvering to 1.5 g's.
"Blinx, Klargen," they replied simultaneously, like quadrophonic music. Confidence was high.
"Klargen," the XO privated, "Perhaps non-essential deck crew can pod-up for protection?"
"Good call, XO. Certainly."
"T'ssin'lo herp derp blat s'pinto bonx."
"Blinx, Klargen."
A baker's dozen of the panel-assistant Greys filtered away to the lower decks. Their panels darkened and shut off for security's sake. We had every reason to believe they could read through our cloaking and 'know our systems.' No reason to reveal our numbers, configuration, or stored data.
Changes had to be made. Seven officers remained on the bridge with me. I'd rather we looked like a 'skeleton crew' than a disciplined, formidable force. We should look relatively weak to prevail 'downstairs.' We all understand that we can't ask for favors if we look 'too strong.'
Sensor sweeps of the approach revealed a tight net of sub-radars, EMF counter-measures, and direct observation platforms. And more than a few US military radar overlaps - they take security as seriously here as they used to at Area 51 - so we stayed cloaked.
The XO knew the way, from his studies.
"Main screen to IR/UV overlapping visuals," the XO ordered. "WEPS, heat up toroid systems, just in case."
"Blinx, Klargen," they responded, right as rain.
The heat of Dulce and its buildings was visible in this mode, as were the hidden vents on Archuleta Mesa just beyond.
We approached from the south-southwest, over Rodeo Road most of the way, at an altitude so low we could count trailers on semi-trucks and passengers in SUVs. Crossed Highway 64, then tracked over Sandhill Drive. The high school football field and track slipped under us and we pitched left and felt the g's of the climb up the raggedy side of Dulce Rock. The Rotatey Chair sucked me in tightly and I nodded at the XO, who was bracing himself against the side of the NAV panel. Another hard turn to starboard, then a jink up, past mag-rock holographic sensor positions on the ridge.
As smooth as can be.
Ahead of us, after confirmation of codes, a 1/2 acre rectangular piece of living pine forest began moving from it's closed position. Mean altitude was 2300 meters.
I privated to the XO about popping a local hatch, to sniff around. SMMMMip! Cold-evening mountain air - glistening with the tang of pinon pine, faintly-sweet Ponderosa pine, and a barest whiff of juniper - rapidly filled the space above the Rotatey Chair.
"WEPS, arm toroid systems to subdue only," the XO ordered. He wasn't gambling with historical issues, I mused to myself. We all knew what happened way down on Level 6 long ago. "NAV, Nopo pert lipon smat trem'o tinx." (Rough translation: slow, clockwise spin, like a skillet on a stove burner.)
"Lipon smat trem'o tinx, blinx Klargen."
"Good idea," I privated to him. He already knew that, of course.
The Tinglev dropped in smartly, and we cautiously descended several hundred meters into the glassified rock cavity. The diameter of this vertical shaft increased as we dropped, and our holographics revealed that 1/2 acre above to be the tip of a deep, cone-shaped hollow space, nearly a thousand meters deep, rimmed with a mix of conformal and/or retractable landing platforms, dozens of them on the way down. The walls were smoothly polished, reflecting much of our IR landing light right back at us. No other ships of any sort. No movements below. I popped my ears a few times as the pressure dropped. Above us, the 'door' closed. The air coming in was vaguely metallic, like welding fumes.
"HELM, Main to IR visual. WEPS, disengage cloaking at your discretion. NAV, set us down."
"Blinx, Klargen." Holographics showed a landing bottom of approximately 14 acres, nearly flat and ringed with wiring, piping, and assorted 'base paraphrenalia.' Still and lifeless.
And then, with a kiss, we were soft-down, safe and quiet on a southern orientation. The Rotatey Chair eased up.
"HELM, de-grav."
"Blinx, Klargen."
The ship fell several inches onto the hard struts with a tri-part jolt and a big-metal shudder. Crewman began filtering onto the bridge as we began to shut down now-unneeded propulsion and flux lines. Several things quit whirring - the relative silence unfamiliar to me - I'd grown used to those latent sounds of the ship's physical forms and systems, even the echoes when I actually spoke aloud.
But it was so eerily quiet. Greys don't fuss about noisily.
We all knew what had to be done. Level 5 awaited outside, and WEPS made us re-appear.
"Cloaking is de-energized, Klargen." There was a faint, arhythmic 'tinking' noise as the thermal shock of this low, cold place met the hull of the Tinglev directly.
"Very well," the XO replied. We all knew they all saw us at that moment. Wasn't the same ship or Grey captain that left here long ago... This empty dock was our new place for a bit.
My excitement was sheer. (Humans aren't allowed below this level. That never ends well.)
"COMMS, send repair requests." This was rolling the dice, as it were. They didn't have to even let us in, let alone help us repair our dampener system. But they had let us in, so maybe they would aid us in our quest. Then the XO was breaking in... pushing me for an answer.
"Klargen, would you like the CONN back?" The XO queried privately as he glanced back.
"You keep it for a bit, Number One. I'm gonna look around."
"Blinx, Klargen. Is there a plan?" He privated again.
"Makin' this up as I go along. Aren't we all?"
"Tinglev Crew, XO still has the CONN," I said, in my forgotten voice. They all slightly twisted to hear me speak. With the normal, subtle push, it was probably overly loud to them.
I stood from the Rotatey Chair and walked back to my quarters to get dressed for whatever was to follow. That meant making unobtrusive armor, concealable weapons, and adroit diplomacy into an outfit that DIDN'T look bad-ass, I thought. I could feel my muscles in my abdomen tense up. So much to choose from.
"Aye, Klargen."
"WEPS, ready a security detail..."
"I'm not giving in to security under pressure,
I'm not missing out on the promise of adventure,
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams,
Experience to extremes..."
Rush, "The Enemy Within" released 1984.
Real segues? Who needs 'em? Over-rated. Let's play a game!
One of the following Tales is true:
I. "The Mutilation of the Hermae: A Brief Synopsis For 'Weird History' Buffs"
(I first heard about this at an Honor Student Invitational at UW, circa summer 1981.)
Long ago, far away, there was intermittent war between the city-states of Greece, and a few foreign entities as well. 415 BCE. A constant of the times was the Greek devotion to their numerous Gods. In Athens, statues of Hermes - the God of travelers and thieves alike - graced the temples, crossroads and porch entrances of many a family home, proudly displaying a turgid weenis, for luck. (And if history and Loverboy have taught us anything, it is that an erect member means someone's trying to 'get lucky.') Collectively, these statues were known as the Hermae. There were listless thousands of these encouraging pieces ornamenting the city. A veritable Bonerville.
Tensions still abounded with Sparta. Prominent citizen Alcibiades had turn-coated from his Athenian lineage to the 'enemy' in Sparta, then he allied himself with Athens once more. (Indecisive prick that he was, apparently.) War with Sicily also loomed, and the fleet had readied to sail. One night remained before Bad-ass Team Athens, with Alcibiades as Fleet Admiral, sailed west, outfitted for sea/land war and certain glory.
Then, as dawn broke, disaster. Or close enough.
Imagine the horror of emerging from your home to find that the proud phalluses of your local Hermae had been chipped away in the night. Marble schlongers littering crossroads. Some statues were completely dashed to bits. An earthquake wouldn't have been as alarming, as Athens was mythically castrated.
Hermes himself was probably deeply offended, they knew. The Athenians, ever superstitious, surging with mass hysteria, awaited total calamity. Metaphorically 'dickless.' They may have even dabbled with pacifism for a spell.
The Sicily naval attack, the ongoing conflicts with Sparta - all this was nearly forgotten in the midst of such sacrilegious debasement - the sailors, soldiers and men of Athens backed down, this sudden impotence having descended. Alcibiades, becoming a popular suspect in the 'mutilations,' returned to Sparta. A few years later, Sparta attacked Athens. The Peloponnesian Wars raged on. (That's a whole 'nother story.)
Some historians make the argument that this instance was the first effective use of psychological warfare. The enemies of Athens beat them before they could even leave home. The Chinese military scholar Sun-Tzu also mentions - in several ways - the potential ability of a general to end the battle before the field has been taken.
A. "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."
B. "If you are far from the enemy, make him believe you are near."
C. "The greatest victory is that which requires no battle."
A. "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."
B. "If you are far from the enemy, make him believe you are near."
C. "The greatest victory is that which requires no battle."
II. I knew this really weird guy who could camouflage himself rather adeptly. He had some military experiences and took that skill-set to heart. The crude simplicity of hiding was codified: Break up your outline, Use multi-fractal layers, Don't clash, Move slowly yet naturally. He could crawl across a college campus in broad daylight and not be seen, moving with the leaves and the wind in a slightly fluid way... Colors and patterns picked to match the immediate scenery. Maybe someone saw a fleeting blur, but lost focus on it almost as quickly. Some say this guy could 'suppress his presence' so much that you could just walk by him and not know he was there, even up to two feet away. One tale goes about the time a massive party was spilling onto his brother's property, way out in the tall woods. He became a sword-fern bush ringed by cedar fronds, and nearly got peed on twice. He even foiled some would-be car-thievery with an abrupt admonishment from 'nowhere.' One of his brother's dogs, upon his return to the house, knew he was there scant feet away, but couldn't see him and got rather perplexed. Don't know what happened to that guy.
III. On a really OCD weird side-note, someone who reads this blog...
...is making, has made - or thought about making - a 'sweet Kesar rice' dish known as 'beenaj.' (It looks tasty, by the way, except the green raisins cooked in, ewwww.)
...is surfing through 'Kallery' taking art history quizzes.
...is perusing 'Stumbleupon' for inspirational New Age photos and memes...
"?" I say.
We already know, don't we all?
If anyone's paying attention, ALL three are true. From a certain point of view. Roman numeral two is autobiographical, just wanted to refer to myself in the 3rd person for a spell.
Here's to AFGO. My Bucket List involves settling all my scores. Workin' on that. Some are elusive.
Here's to AFGO. My Bucket List involves settling all my scores. Workin' on that. Some are elusive.
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