Jan21.2007

Kristi slept. Mike didn't wake her up. He went down to the bar to get breakfast. Thats why he liked this inn, The Flying Nutria. "The usual", he said. The bartender looked dubious but gave him Hecate Prime whiskey with scrambled eggs and nutria sausage. The whiskey arrived in a .5 dl glass. The cup of coffee didn't need mentioning as it was best unmentioned. What passed for coffee was a charred herbal mix sorta like coffee. yeah. 2 dl glass. The glass was the typical red brown glass made from the ubiquitous regolith. The scrambled eggs were genuine eggs though, from iguanas probably.

Dec06.2006

- The story continues - discovered in the present, notes from the future - Mike predicted liquid water on Mars a long time ago. Mike looked at the images from the orbiters and saw oceans and seas and rivers.
liquidwater1.jpg
And liquid water did flow on Mars. Of course, now everyone knew it. The seeps were small towns because where water flowed, the peroxide soil gave up oxygen. Where there was water and oxygen, people could live. On Mars it was easy. Maybe easier than on an ice moon. Mike smiled, because at one time the flatlanders thought ice moons were uninhabitable. Oh well. Stupid sheep. Mike was older than the most of the colonists, but you wouldnt know it to look at him. Mike knew Kristi was older too, maybe 25 years his junior, but both were now over a century old.

Oct25.2006

Mike wrote in his journal while kristi slept beside him. "Its midnight and Im waiting for something. I dont know what it is, maybe a pony. Maybe christine crinkle will slide down the chimney. I found some old champaigne. I might share it with an imaginary friend. But I dont want to sleep. I might miss something."
Mike sipped the old champaigne and looked at kristi. the only time she seemed at peace was when she slept. Drummer Boy by echoing green - the dance mix played on the holopod. The soft music seemed to help kristi sleep. That and the usual from the bar.

Oct21.2006

Okay, I know its been a while, but I have been out of body for a while. And busy geting single again. And moving from Georgia to Maryland. and Getting a new job. Story continues soon I hope. oh, hi kristi, hope you're well. call or write me soon okay?

May28.2006

Mike told Kristi about the pavilion, the desolate waste and an idea he had. The canyon where the pavilion was looked familiar. The resemblance to a place he'ed seen on Mars was uncanny. Going there would require transportation. Wether or not they would wasnt a question.

May11.2006

converging storyline at http://www.geocities.com/xxx5ft6in170lb/bloodtype.html

April17.2006

Gotha said to mike "Call me Kristi from now on, ok?" Mike shrugged and said "ok"
While they talked about the weather, they wrote notes that contained the real conversation. Mike began in dagger runes. Kristi thought about making it a game of obscure script by replying in the script of the magi, but responded in new dagger. The two differed enough a casual observer might think both were merely doodling.

February03.2006

Wi didn't look at Gotha, she never did. "He's a good man, you know. Not that it matters. He's the one they chose to tell the story to, and good or bad, he will know it in about 5 minutes your time. The first half anyway. He doesn't know what caused the desolation in the first place. He doesn't know about you and I. He will want to know more, and you will take him to Cydonia. Me, I'm leaving. There'a a colony on the minor planet Jura, and another linked one there. He's just gotten pair-bonded, and getting to talk to him might be interesting. The third linked person is outside our timeslip, but you will meet her later. I've got to go now." She turned and walked into the night, to who knows where. The words had burst out, like water on Mars and now they were gone, leaving the landscape changed. Gotha didn't remember the minor planets well, and... Sound again. Movement. Mike came up to her. "I thought you were asleep" he said, "but you're here before me." He eyed the eggs and whiskey and said "I'll have the same." The bartender looked more dubious but gave him the hecate prime whiskey and scrambled eggs too. He shook his head. What was Mars coming to, he wondered. Mike wrote on the napkin while Gotha watched him. He thought she was Wi, and Wi she would have to be. He wrote in dagger runes, "I had a vision". They ate breakfast and she rested her head on his shoulder while the sun came up over the Valles and threw long shadows over Tharsis.

February02.2006

Gotha watched the man as she ate her food, and drank. He stopped dead still just then, and his eyes glazed over. No one seemed to notice. Good. Bad. No one else was moving either. Worse. One person was moving. The guitar shaped woman with angelic black tresses walked toward Gotha. She sat down next to her and lit a cigarette. Gotha watched her. She was the embodiment of all her fears and frailty. Literally. To become a death angel, Gotha had split part of herself, the weak part, off. Normally the two never met. Something profound had caused this. She had to know what.

February02.2005

"The Usual" said Gotha.
The bartender looked dubious but gave her her hecate prime whiskey and scrambled eggs.
just then half the couple she had been watching walked in.
I went down to the cantina with a grin on my face good whiskey coulnd't have washed on, thinking about how much brighter it was than when I'd first gotten into my life, without really stringing too many coherent ramblings together. The smell of good food and freshly washed people and good drink was a nice change from the normal unwashed dunerats that made up my pressure suited day to day.
my vision bent. The Pavilion of the Spring Pink Rose.
The sky was a shade of eggshell, if eggs were black and candled with sooty hands against a new moon. Lightning from the purpetual rainless thunderstorm cracked the shell with brilliant blue and gold that faded and made no difference in the endless labor of the stillborn night. The thunder boomed along the long vanished oceans floor like the memory of surf. On the ground the sooty effervescent afterglow of hellfire static electric and bioluminescent, swirled making the unlit more ill tempered and surly.
The canyons and canals of the dead ocean channeled the hellfire, combining and growing, so that the large canyons were almost bright. Here too the gas vents when breaking the surface were most likely to be lit, lending a hellish ambiance to an otherwise wholly darker place.
On a canyon wall, near the head of a larger canyon, was a place. Some blame the whole dark emptiness on this place believing it existed because the pavilion had been built. Other more discerning minds realized the dark emptiness had been truly dark and it was only the coming of the Pavilion of the Spring Pink Rose that had brought light giving things to this region.
The pavilion was surrounded by a flat expanse of sandstone through which water seeped. The small amount that made it to the surface of the stone evaporated leaving beautiful deposits behind. Benches of the same stone surrounded the flat space, and behind each bench, a small gnarled tree grew slowly. Grasses waved thinly.
The pavilion itself was of a redder stone. Octagonal in plan, there were eight columns, eight sides, and eight half arches that joined the central spire. There were eight double doors, each with multifaceted panels cut from large transparent crystals whose origin was beyond knowing. The door frames were polished bone and silver flashing was used against the stone.
Once past the stone lintle, the floor was a cool green marble. It might have looked like a pond, but here idea would not have occured. Fossilized fish swam just below the surface of the marble floor. In the center of the cool green marble floor was a circular island of a smooth cool rock. Mounted at third points around the island rock were a bench, another bench, and a pedestal, all of bronze. There was a bell jar on the pedestal, and this was the source of light for the pavilion or rather the thing inside it was. Here on the pedestal under the bell jar was the spring pink rose, forever a part of it blooming, while other parts took there turns at various stages. And as the spring pink rose bloomed, with the light of spring in each bit of dew on each petal, glowing dew drops ran off and watered the rock. The dew of the spring pink rose eventually made its way outside the pavilion to the trees and benches to begin the slow transformation of a world. The light had already brought change. And perhaps healing.

December15.2004

"Hecate Prime straight up" said Gotha.

December8.2004

Wi sat on the bed, looking straight ahead, but looking at nothing too. "I wanna know what it means when you take a pain pill and wash it down with hecate prime whiskey and you feel more normal than you have in years." I looked at her and knew i hadnt seen her. I thought about how much I didn't know about this person I'd learned to take for granted in almost no time at all. "I wanna know Roy, don't wimp out on me now, not when I need you". "What do you see when you look at me Roy". I wanted to say all the right things and make it all better right away. I didn't want to feel her hurt or her pain any more. Because now I could feel it. It cut me like a bad knife on a good day. I wanted it to stop. And I didn't know what to say. So I said what I felt without worrying what I thought. "Wi, I feel stupid and guilty at the same time. I no more know you than the man in earth's moon, and Ive taken you for granted because you fell into my life and seemed to fit like a missing piece." If two coins find themselves in the same pocket, do they make change? Wi shook her head like clearing a daydream. "sometimes". I've heard you mutter crazy stuff in your sleep and I thought it was interesting maybe or cool and didnt pay attention and maybe its what I should have listened to. Wi looked puzzled "what do you mean?" I said "I've tasted your backwash in the whiskey we shared, and never realized I was kissing you". She wrinkled her nose a bit and smiled and said "nice image cowboy". "you don't have to figure it all out now. just keep it in the back of your mind. youll get it. you're good that way".

December6.2004

( Gotha went in thru the main gate, her Death Angel credentials drawing the same mix of fear, distrust and awe they usually did. She had followed the pair she'ed saved an hour or so after they had entered. She knew with an instinct honed by the martian winds there was something important here. )
I took the lead at the main gate and Wi took my arm. We looked like Honeymoon on Barzoom to the casual observer and there wasn't any other kind at the gate, at least as far as I could see. Bored guys with better things to do manned the gates, wishing they were home or working or watching the game or anywhere other that at the gate. The settlement militia act required their service but it couldn't command their hearts, and their hearts were home. I hoped they'd be up to it if the dustorm hit the ventilators. Wi and I breezed through. We headed for the Krcma (inn/pub) district. Usually the inns ringed the central lake and this town was no different.

November21.2004

Chapter 2
Gotha Krist crouched on top of the wall that served as a dune break near the gate of Angeli di Nerezza. A sleepy little border town by day, Angeli di Nerezza lived up to its name after the sun set. Gotha slid thru this greasy little part of the world about three times a year on her rounds. Two very dead very bad men lay at the base of the wall. They had been planning to shoot the somewhat odd pair headed toward the gate. Still a mile off, they had no idea how lucky they were.

November16.2004

Sometime you have to push boundaries. I'm working on redefining the concept of immaturity. I'm relearning how to act like a kid, and a badly behaved one as well. Some doors, you find when you open them, they cannot be closed. Be careful what you open. This seems to have happend with Wi. No Reason. But sharing the wide empty marscape with someone is better than seeing only by myself. Alone, I forget the visions almost as soon as they cross my eyes. With Wi, I see them repeated in curves and gestures, driving the beauty of the land into my soul. Shes like a bad kid too. Yesterday we got to a little town in the shadow of Olympus. The first signs were the tombstones we walked thru the graveyard. Actually Wi danced. She danced for the dead, and I watched the beautiful death angle at her work. She dance off, and I followed. I found her resting against a stone. "Hi." I said. She said "Nope, Sober as a judge." We went into town.

September29.2004

Desolate doesnt play well in the lands of plenty, but here in the beautiful desolation of Mars, it fit like anodized on aluminum. I hadn't planned on having more than myself for company, but here I was with a stranger I'd met a month ago. She called me Roy as often as she called me Mike, and she acted as if we'ed always been together. She said her name was Winona and I doubted it but called her that anyway. Actually I called her Wi because multisylabic names just seem to be excessive to me. I'd say Wi, she'd say "no reason" and smile. It was dumb but it passed the time while we put as many miles between us and the valles. I looked at Wi and the way her black hair broke on her shoulders like basalt breakers on the rocks. Slow motion ocean Mars and Wi all rolled into one enigmatic mystery with no way to see through the dust.

August17.2004

A guitar shaped woman with angelic black tresses was into subsistance flirting and she knew I knew it. So I bought her a beer anyway.And she said theres a guy over there who was looking for you but I said you'd left. -Thanks.- I thought you had, I didnt expect you to stroll back in. Her eyes fell like a drop shipment from LMO as she avoided his gaze swinging past my back and taking in the room before heading out into the same desert I'd left an hour ago. The door clanged and she looked up, sized up and figured I wasnt good for a meal but I said You hungry? Her sweet mercenary face lit up like olympus ice and she followed me to a table like we were litter mates. Maybe it was the custom here since the local joncarters kept 2 or 3 dejas as often as 1. We set the beers in the dust on the table and she told me all about a childhood she'd read about.

July18.2004

Town ahead. Should stop until the weather improves.

July17.2004

Scrolling, insistant, green. Letters scrolling across my visor. I should ack and save. Weather coming up. Msgs in txt 2 sv bandwidth.
SURFACE EXPLORATION FORECAST
PLANETARY WEATHER SERVICE ZUBRIN STATION
VALLES PREDICTION CENTER/VALLES FORECAST BRANCH
1030 AM EDT SAT 17 JUL 2004

W CENTRAL N THARSIS SHELF AND SLOPE SURFACE BEYOND 20(M)NM TO 250 (M)NM OFFSHELF...INCLUDING S OF OLYMPUS MONS FROM 1000 FMS TO 250 (M)NM OFFSHELF.

GALE WARNING
THIS AFTERNOON
S TO SW WINDS 55 TO 90 (M)KT. SOIL TRANSP 1 TO 2 M. SCATTERED SAND SHOWERS AND DSTMS.
TONIGHT
S TO SW WINDS INCREASING TO 90 TO 130 (M)KT. SOIL TRANSP BUILDING TO 2 TO 3 M. SAND SHOWERS AND SCATTERED DSTMS.
SUN
SW WINDS DECREASING TO 55 TO 90 (M)KT. SOIL TRANSP 2 TO 3 M...HIGHEST E. SCATTERED SAND SHOWERS AND DSTMS.
SUN NIGHT
S TO SW WINDS 75 TO 110 (M)KT...EXCEPT W TO SW 35 TO 75 (M)KT W OF 78W. SOIL TRANSP 2 TO 3 M...HIGHEST E. SAND SHOWERS AND SCATTERED DSTMS.
Looks like the weekend is shot. The Soil Transport layer of a dust storm is not where I like to be. I looks beautiful if your high enough up, but I wasn't going to be. Time to go indoors. (M)KT (mars knots) and (M)NM mars nautical miles gave me a headache when I first arrived. There was a move on to rename them LKT and LNM, local knots and local nautical miles respectively. Maybe I could catch up on the debate this weekend. I was part of the group pushing Nautical Seconds or Local Nautical Seconds as a standard. In my suit I stood about 0.11 LNS tall. The decimalists hated the idea. The decimalists are so backward, they can only count to ten on their fingers. I used binary and counted to 1023.

June16.04

Foot prints disapeared within hours. Tyre tracks within days. Tracks because the compressed the soil more uniformly could be followed for weeks. Beyond that, nothing, usually. Our presence here was undiscoverable. We came and went, unnoticed, unremarked.

June11.04

Black basalt sand rolled slowly across the seas surface, waves breaking on boulders, splashing up on my toes. The sand sea rolled where the water used to be, before we were imagined. Stark white pillars rose near me, remnants of geology looking like remnants of a jainist mars of marmoreal minarets. I was a pilgrim to this Barzoomian Banares. In the wind on my helmet I heard the distant temple horns.

May23.04

I loved Mars. I loved Mars the way I had loved a beautiful woman a long time ago. I was superman, devoid of any need to regard the opinions of others. Here there was no past, no future, no right, no wrong, just the now, and me, unchained. And she came surfing in on a memory. She washed over me and blended with the Mars in front of my eyes. The illusory past melted as fast as it appeared, a wave breaking. But as a wave changes the beach, so Mars and I were changed. But I remained superman, just as the beach remained the beach. Mars was a beach.

May11.04

And maybe its not like anyplace on earth. Maybe Mars was like that long car trip between the beers, thirsty and dry. Mars was like the beers at the endpoints too. Cold. And you could pour Mars in and keep pouring and never get filled up.

April26.04

Someone asked me what place on earth was like Mars. I think they expected an answer like "Antarctica" or "The Tibetan Plateau". But Mars was like Africa, only bigger. The dust was something of a killer too. Dune rats rarely lived past fifty. Of course fifty Mars is pretty friggin old by earth standards. Like Africa how? Huge. Endless horizons. A landmass equal to the land area of earth. And wealth beyond imagining. And death around every corner. Yup, Mars was like Africa.

April24.04

A Story in blog Chapter1- What Mars was Like