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#Post#: 374--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: May 21, 2021, 9:27 am
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Ten Mile Road
Chapter Four
The owner pulled the roadster out of the driveway and turned
left onto Ten Mile Road. Miles away security drones rising from
rooftop hangers began scanning the ground around the Diamond
Hardware store. Claire is on duty. Responding to an alert from
the drone control software she clicks her screen letting the
drone software know she was ready. If surveillance drones see
anything unusual an alert will be sent. Claire will be quick to
take a look. At Claire's click, an amber light on the roadster
dash glowed. When surveillance drones finish looking around the
hardware store the amber light will turn green if things look
good.
The road curves gently back and forth between low hills for a
kilometer. Then it is arrow straight for five kilometers. Ten
Mile Road is a bit more than 17 Kilometers long measured
carefully. Ten Mile Road is the name. Distance on the island is
measured in kilometers. Street signs in the island town are
international. The owner decided distances would seem bigger
using kilometers. On Ten Mile Road and only on Ten Mile Road,
speed limit digits denote miles per hour. The signs say 'Speed
Limit' on the top with two large digits below. Kilometers and
miles are not mentioned. The model S speedometer reads
kilometers per hour. But if cold metal can have feelings,
classic gas guzzlers in the island garage feel right at home
when they are taken out for exercise. When classic sheet metal
was stamped, kilometers were not part of the American language.
The roadster passed a sign marked 'Speed Limit 50'. The road
straighened out. From here the speed limit signs go up steady to
ninety-nine and then as the long straightaway approaches the
opposite end. Numbers drop again to fifty. Ninety-nine is a
special sign. It really means one hundred. But one hundred needs
an extra digit. Other speed limit signs end in zero or five, not
nine. Speed limits change in five mile an hour steps. When the
roadster passed the second 'Speed Limit 60' sign it was already
going a hundred miles an hour. The sky was blue the clouds were
white. Any moisture from the morning dew cooked away by the sun.
As the only car on Ten Mile Road for miles, the speed was safe.
The owner slowed down. Even at sixty the trip could only take
ten minutes from start to finish. If there were no urgency at
all sixty miles an hour would be fast enough. Here the island
was flat for miles and beautiful. Around the plain the land
rises up on all sides, into hills which again rise to mountains
in the northwest and drop to the sea beyond the east ridge
hills. Geography made this part of the island seem like land
from the mainland. Even without the mix of forest and farm which
now make it their home blocking any possible view. From this
wide low valley sea could not be seen nor heard.
Music pulsed on the radio. Call it what you want. It was in a
car so to the owner it was a radio. AC/DC played a song. The
owner, familiar with the music jammed to the lyrics.
No stop signs - Speed limit - Nobody's gonna slow me down
Like a wheel - Gonna spin it - Nobody's gonna mess me around
Hey, Satan - Payin' my dues - Playin' in a rockin' band
Hey, mama - Look at me - I'm on the way to the promised land
I'm on the highway to hell - Highway to hell
I'm on the highway to hell - Highway to hell
Don't stop me
The owner slowed. An alarm beeped, sensors along the road had
detected animals moving. By the time the model 3 slowed to
sixty, three deer could be seen crossing the road in the
distance. Far ahead. By the time the roadster passed the deer
were lost in the woods. The AC/DC tune faded into commercial. A
Boy Band sang:
'Diamond is the place with the wonderful hardware person'
A female voice began to talk:
'This week with Armageddon approaching get a head start on
prepping with seasonal seeds. Direct from the Svalbard Global
Seed Vault we have some wonderful new exotics that ache to be
grown. So come do your part and help them out. Seeds will be
distributed on a first come first serve basis. But if you miss
these special sweet surprises remember we have standard
offerings as well.'
The message was not hype, it was true. Significantly the message
was crafted by software which could have said the same thing
using different words. The message sent did not contain any code
words, meaning the parking lot at Diamond Hardware is determined
safe by security drones. The owner needs paint, sandpaper, and
steel wool. One of the warehouses the owner passes on the way to
Diamond Hardware has an entire upper story jammed with old
furniture waiting to be refurbished. Furniture as far as an eye
can see. Another floor in the warehouse has crates, shelves and
pallets full of refinishing supplies to restore the old and
antique furniture. Todays visit to the Hardware store will
trigger a work order so warehouse stock will replace items taken
from the hardware store.
Restoring furniture takes skill and it is one of the things the
owner figured to be good if done responsibly. Restoring
furnituyre is one of the many skill teaching arts practiced on
the island. It also provides furniture to the island while
exotic hardwood forests grow in mountain valleys.
The Roman philosopher Seneca said. 'Growth is slow, the road to
ruin is fast.' Hardwood forests had been planted before the
world stopped moving. But the island wood shops would practice
on stored logs for a long time before an island harvest could be
made. Forests grow slow. The island was Arctic only decades
before, the tallest tropical trees on the island are only forty
feet tall.
Picking up steel wool, sandpaper, paint and a couple of Svalbard
seed packets at Diamond Hardware the owner drove into town. The
seeds he picked were from the Mesoamerican basket. Cucamelon and
Chayote seeds. Cucamelons resemble miniature watermelons the
size of a grape and have a sour cucumber taste. But the owner
did not know that yet. He had seen them but had never eaten one.
Chayotes are an edible gourd with a mild sweet flavor. The owner
knew them as Mirlitons and had eaten them in New Orleans.
Remembering the Mirlitons and pleasant memories of New Orleans.
The owner hoped both vines would be a success in his garden.
The sound of waves is part of opening a car door when you park
at the Cliff House. The Cliff House is along Shore Drive past
the Coral Reef Aquarium and Marine Center. A kilometer from town
along the shore, the Cliff House is built atop a tall cliff. The
cliff where the Reef Aquarium sits below the Marine Center is
only three meters. The Cliff House sits nearly sixty meters
above the waves. Through large picture windows large offshore
rocks can be seen covered in birds.
John and Anton were already at a table. They waved him over as
soon as he walked through the door. John spoke first.
'The TI Africa * is 10 days overdue. She could sail only 80%
full. The first grain shipment will stall for lack of bunker
fuel in about sixty days. Shipments after that will be hit and
miss as refined product is stored for harvest.'
Nodding with understanding the owner replied.
'How is Helter Skelter Going?'
John answered.
'Everything is going fine.'
Turning to Anton the owner spoke.
'I am sorry your wife had to interrupt her packing and evacuate
early. If none of your furniture gets here I have plenty.'
Before Anton could reply the owner spoke to them both.
'As soon as we go off grid we tell everyone what the score is
and what Helter Skelter was all about. I expect things will
happen quickly. The world will panic and we can't have our
people in a panic at the same time everyone else is in one. Our
panic has to happen now. We need to get our panic over with. But
right now I need coffee.'
* The TI Africa is an oil supertanker.
to be continued
#Post#: 375--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: Phil Potts Date: May 21, 2021, 4:27 pm
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But if cold metal can have feelings, classic gas guzzlers in
the island garage feel right at home when they are taken out for
exercise."
This put a smile on my dial, you have to let the ponies run.
#Post#: 376--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: May 21, 2021, 5:13 pm
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[quote]This put a smile on my dial.[/quote]
[quote]You have to let the ponies run.[/quote]
Those are both good. I'll try and work them in next week.
#Post#: 416--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: May 28, 2021, 2:24 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Five
The dust storm stopped them from going further. A sudden flash
of wind hid the river bank under a blanket of sand and soot.
Overhead lights down the center isle turned on. They had to wait
the storm out a while. A dust storm blocked out the sun and the
boat could not go on.
A sensor on the roof mistaking day for night controlled the
overhead lights. A small green light which had started out as
the power-on indicator on a computer desktop speaker 100 years
ago lit up on the pilot dashboard.
Félix Vásquez reached down. With a flick of a switch he turned
the overhead lights and green indicator off. Another flick of a
switch released the bow anchor. The screws had already been
stopped from turning. Sliding chain could be heard and
vibrations felt as the bow anchor plunked and plunged into river
muck. Félix expected the storm to last all afternoon. The start
was always the worst, and it had just started. Soon the air
would clear enough, so Félix could see the baked grass along the
riverbank. Pull up anchor and get going again.
Every year was like this now. Rains would make grasses grow a
few years and then a summer drought would kill it all off. Fires
would rage across dead Amazon grasslands in firestorms so large
weather would change, creating wind and storm. Howling winds
tumbled dust and smoke across barren land for hundreds of
kilometers. Every year grew a new patch of grass ready to burn.
Other spots slowly recovered from already being burned. The
Amazon was not what it used to be.
This was the bad part of the river. Nobody had been able to live
here for years. Where people could grow a few crops in
headwaters far upstream, trees were able to grow along the
riverbank. Here burning grass burned any new trees away. In the
headwaters mountains to the west kept things from getting as
dry.
The riverboat was named the Granma. Félix did not know why. It
had been built half a world away in an Aleutian warehouse of the
world museum. In the far north. Dashboard instruments were set
in Pernambuco hardwood. The lumber in the dash and the wood
paneling of the walls and ceiling had been grown and harvested
on Aleutia. Second generation wood grown from cuttings taken
near the exact spot where the Granma lay at anchor.
Wood cuttings had been taken to Alutia a century ago when the
owner created the museum. All that is known now is that the wood
harvested for the Granma had originally come from cuttings taken
in Brazil. But nobody knew exactly where in Brazil the cuttings
had come from. Along its home river for hundreds of kilometers,
Pernambuco is extinct.
The original Granma had started a revolution and the hope was
this Granma would start one too. People upstream needed one and
this revolution could give them more land. Biomes across the
world were in sorry shape. Feeding a world population of half a
billion was difficult even in years when weather cooperated.
So little topsoil remained. Natural areas were collections of
invasive species and strange monocultures as one species after
another rose to dominate environments scoured of competition and
predators by global heating.
Humans had begun extinctions. But changed weather and fractured
biomes wipe out more species than humans do now. A tipping point
was crossed. Once the idea to leave nature alone was sacred and
introduced species were considered a bad thing. But that was
when there had been intact biomes to ruin. With so much global
heating, legacy species are the species who do not belong now.
In most places plants and animals are strangers in their own
land. Better suited for parts of the world where climate has
changed to match the original home environment.
The Granma carried seed. The grass on the plains around the
Granma should not die every few years. The grass died because it
was not adapted to the environment the Amazon had changed into.
Native grass was not the right kind for the changed Amazon.
Local grass did not have deep roots. It grew sickly on the new
dirt plain. Native grass could not tolerate drought. None of the
plants which had grown here were the right kind for the new
Amazon environment.
The Granma carried grasses native to the Great Pains of North
America and the African Savanna. Grasses which have a better
chance to grow. The Squid, the only submarine ever made to carry
cargo, brought the grass to what had once been Brazil. The Squid
was a one of a kind vessel. It is the way people from Alutia
travel the world. Built to swim beneath pirates in lawless seas.
Its stainless hull does not betray its age and keeping the
nuclear reactor charged with fresh fuel rods is what Alutian
people do.
Félix had been born in what had once been the Ecuadorian Amazon.
He was educated in Alutia. His mother is Alutian and his father
is from Quito. A specialist in biodiversity, Félix's father had
met his mother when the Squid had visited Guayaquil on the
Pacific coast, looking for amphibians to take back to Alutia.
Alutia was a tropical paradise now with canopies of rain forest.
But efforts to increase biodiversity on the island never
stopped. The fight against extinction never ended and Amphibians
on Alutia had a bad habit of dying out.
Civilization survived in the Andes. City people died off quickly
when the methane bomb went off. This took pressure off the
Ecuadorian countryside which was able to feed itself. Other
parts of the world had not been so fortunate and devastation was
complete in both city and country. In the Andes mountains
geography trapped people in cities to starve. Now generations
later cities empty of people are being resettled by a growing
population from the country. Shipyards in New Guayaquil are
building sailing ships. Ships to carry sugar, coffee, and cocoa
to a world that has forgotten such delights. Guayaquil was
vacant for many decades.
The methane bomb did not leave the west coast of South America
alone. Die-off and devastation was huge. But micro-climates in
mountain valleys and on mountain slopes kept remnants of rain
forest and other biomes alive. Devastated areas are seeded with
life appropriate to the new climate with plants taken from the
mountain sanctuaries now. With help from humans flora and fauna
climbed with heat and is taken to where it can grow. Now with
more human help this life will be spread across the world to
bring back some lost biodiversity. Finding plants that would
survive in a particular climate is a new science.
Carrying grass seed across the Andes is easy. There are more
than enough donkeys to carry bags of seed. Animal power is
common in South America again. Other parts of the world have yet
to breed enough beasts of burden to free women from bondage. The
return trip is the problem. The Granma unlike a donkey is built
to carry tropical plants and critters unharmed. The Granma is
Félix's arc. His traveling zoo. If asked what he was doing he
would say: 'Call me Noah, I sail the arc.'
The Granma is equipped to carry plants and critters in climate
controlled cages without killing them. Something donkeys are
less able to do. Solar panels cover the long roof of the Granma
from stem to stern. As long as two buses, but as wide as only
one, the Granma is made to travel the Amazon. Traveling along
the river she looks like a long thin bus with a pointed bow. If
danger threatens and speed is needed a diesel engine will boost
electric power for high speed cruising.
Félix likes to know he can go fast if needed. But there is
little to fear. The diesel is not used. Where dust storms rage,
the river can not keep a pirate alive. There was not a human
being or other large mammal for a hundred kilometers in any
direction of the Granma when she was stopped for the blackout.
In the river monster fish lurked oblivious to the storm above.
Fishermen had not worked those waters for decades.
Félix was moving again. Dust and smoke had cleared enough to see
the riverbank. Solar panels gave power to push the boat forward.
The trip to Tena would take many days. Then seed farms around
Tena would multiply the seed. In a few years cultivated seed
from those farms would allow the barren ground now around the
Granma to grow a proper savanna. A savanna with grass suited to
a dry season. In time that new grass could restore the
hydrologic cycle enough for the climate to be stable from year
to year.
Stable enough for farms and a few trees and new kinds of
grasses. But that was a long way away. Progress on the other end
would also be slow. After the Squid meets the Grandma when it
comes back down the river loaded with rain forest plant and
animal treasures. The squid will travel to new hardwood forests
in Maine. Forests that are, for the time being, devoid of life
and in desperate need of critters.
#Post#: 417--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: May 28, 2021, 2:29 am
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[quote author=K-Dog link=topic=18.msg376#msg376 date=1621635230]
[quote]This put a smile on my dial.[/quote]
[quote]You have to let the ponies run.[/quote]
Those are both good. I'll try and work them in next week.
[/quote]
I almost got the ponies in when I had the donkeys going on. I
got in over my head and had to stay with donkeys and move on to
other details. I had to have Google Earth open to write this so
I did not get myself in an impossible situation.
#Post#: 450--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: June 4, 2021, 6:04 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Six
Coffee was brought to the table. Left to grow on their own,
island coffee bean bushes would be among the tallest trees on
Alutia when this coffee was brewed. Instead, coffee trees were
trimmed short for easy harvest. The first trees were planted
shortly after the methane bomb warmed things up. It was in the
second year without snow that the first plantation trees were
planted. Coffee independence was achieved. Two separate
plantations grew coffee in the island mountains. It was roasted
at the Cliff House.
The owner sipped coffee, satisfied. It was exactly right. Not
too hot. This put a smile on his dial. The owner masqueraded as
an employee in his company town. A citizen of Alutia the owner
accepted work assignments. Working a day a week as a barista had
put him on the coffee planning committee in a previous job
rotation. The CPC worked on getting temperature right. Guests
survey of Cliff House visitors showed visitors wanted training
to get serving temperature right. The owner wanted to get a
classless society right. Part of Helter Skelter was an
abandonment of royalty in his new deal. Only island surgeons are
excused from shifts of manual labor. Preserving surgeon hands is
considered very important.
Alutia is no town of Pullman. Before Helter Skelter replaced
paychecks by citizenship, any comparison with George Pullman's
two square miles of wage-slave plantation on Lake Calumet was
frivolous. They have nothing in common. People who had left the
island before Helter Skelter were always well compensated.
Before Helter Skelter there was no such thing as rent. Money
could only be saved for use in the outside world. After Helter
Skelter money had no meaning.
One hundred and fifty years ago give or take a few years, back
in 1880. George Mortimer Pullman built a town next to a new rail
car factory he owned. The town had housing, shopping areas, a
church, theaters, and parks for wage slaves in his factory. The
hotel in Pullman's town was off limits to his employees. They
could not eat in the restaurant. Alcohol was served to hotel
guests in the bar and Pullman was a feudal lord who knew
nondrinkers made better and cheaper employees. Making the church
he built in his town rent-free to attract a congregation would
have been a smart way to promote non-drinking. Keeping the
church empty by charging rent for the space, like rent charged
for the other 1300 buildings in his town, seemed smarter to
George. The church steeple gave good show and the automatic
assumption the space would be used someday was the first
impression in anyones' mind on first seeing it. But a 19th
century clergy uncontrolled might criticize inequity. The town
was built to separate workers from ideas of dissent and dampen
ideas of labor unrest. Better to charge rent and keep the church
empty if you are a feudal lord.
Pullman's town was a way to control slaves. A place for a man to
attempt royalty and a money making enterprise at the same time.
Alutia is nothing like that. The Island was a moneymaker only
when the modular Thorium nuclear reactor, now mothballed, was
being built. Alutia is built as a living time capsule. Reactor
profits filled and built many island warehouses. But that was a
happy accident. Enough money gathered in one place always finds
a way to grow. But the expectation was the island would never
produce profit. Building Alutia was a money sink. Profit from
the island was reinvested on the island. American military
bases, the few that remained while America still remained. All
had working Thorium reactors, exactly like what Alutia keeps in
mothballs.
When George Pullman died, his body was buried underneath a meter
of concrete and steel. This was done to prevent a desecration of
Pullman's body. Pullman was hated that much. Lying at rest in a
lead lined mahogany casket, plate tectonics will eventually
desecrate George Pullman and snap his bones. His enemies will be
long gone when that happens. They already are. Yet the joke is
on George. The socialists who actually wanted to desecrate
George Pullman's body were only a figment of his own guilt. His
own imagination. Socialists usually have better things to do
than desecrate bodies.
Witnesses said concrete was poured to keep George Pullman from
coming back from the dead. Poured by his own family.
Money exploits. Money is exchanged using rules. Rules in the
presence of flowing energy will generate complexity. The
universe works this way. Desire to acquire money is an energy.
Greed is a stove burner of an energy flow with the knob turned
on high. A red-hot energy flow that can start a fire. Doing what
it takes to survive. Responding to hot, cold, and hunger, is
another energy flow that makes money move. A simmering energy
flow. A stove burner set low. But set to high or low, something
is cooked.
The money to build the island had grown itself into billions
long ago. Generational money, which by a quirk of fate and an
accidental plane crash had unexpectedly put billions of dollars
of money in very capable and free hands. At a reasonably young,
but mature age a torch was passed. But billions of dollars by
itself was not enough to build the island.
It was enough money to build a new complicated structure that
kept the money pile of billions growing automatically. At the
center of the new structure was a machine which found government
contracts involving new technology. This machine managed
industries which exploited these government contracts. Obscene
profits were generated.
By the time the federal contract machine was growing money
faster than hail dropping in a hailstorm, the owner was dropping
out of sight. Living far from the public eye, he could hike the
Appalachian trail for a new perspective. The same time would
bring his FCM Inc. profits of hundreds of millions of dollars.
More than enough money to build sand foothills near Alutias'
airport to feed the beaches of a rising sea. All the north and
west of the island is sheer cliff. Seabirds live on the cliffs
and seals lounge unmolested on rocky beaches beneath. Beaches
below cliffs are short and steep. In places cliffs dive directly
into sea. Rising sea buried the beach were cliff meets sea.
The lagoon beach and sandy shores of the south and east sides of
Alutia are for human use. The motel at the beach ending ten mile
road rises on jackscrews when new sand is added to the beach.
Behind sand beaches hills rise to a plateau which keeps the
island dry. Rising seas will not bury Alutia. The Island was
picked for its ability to resist sea level rise.
The ocean rose, but most of that was yet to be when the TI
Africa docked at Banks island with a light load of oil. Siberian
and Banks Island grain shipments would start to slow a month
after she delivered her cargo 20% short and 12 days late. Silos
along the Aulavik River filled with seed while India and
Pakistan began to starve when shipments slowed. Not enough oil
could be found to grow and ship Arctic grain. There was little
easy access oil left in the world.
In the sands of new southern deserts, almost nothing grows. In
the now barren and hungry south, war was not far away. India and
Pakistan began to squabble over slowed grain shipments. Each
claimed the other side was getting more than their fair share. A
Russian grain ship blew up. Grain shipments to both countries
were stopped. All this happened a year after Helter Skelter
locked Alutia down. Grain shipments to India and Pakistan did
not start again until there was a cease fire. Hundreds of
millions of people in India had already starved to death by
then. In Alutia the time of long seclusion began.
#Post#: 481--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: June 12, 2021, 2:24 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Seven
Thousands of miles of sea kept him from the pain of the dying
world. Life on his time capsule was good. After his Helter
Skelter speech he established a routine. In the morning he woke
early before the sun. By sunrise he would have an general idea
if he was going to call a morning meeting.
The world was dying. Fuel to move goods an overpopulated society
needs to live on had run out. No longer could everyone eat.
Arctic and Antarctic farms had compensated as the tropics moved
north. For more than a decade food grown at the poles shipped
south. But farms had not had to grow energy. Only food. Now they
would have to grow both. Across the globe riots raged. He feared
a nuclear winter. That would ruin island crops. That would bring
trouble home.
Dim blue light filled the air. The sky would glow in the east
soon. Dark outlines of forest trees would show themselves below
the red glow of the rising sun. The report from Island Central
only contained bad news. Typical news for a world adjusting to
food shortage. Good news was impossible. Farms could now only
support a fraction of existing population. 58 degree C heat
along the west coast of India fueled violence at night. Domestic
chaos kept international tensions at bay as local pain dominated
attention. With each passing day a night of crime made the
number of people to feed fewer. Misery had not resulted in wars
yet, and nothing in the news feed suggested a war would start
today. Death spread across the globe evenly. Misery continued to
be local and contained. The though of breakfast in town came to
mind.
Driving into town the vague line of pale sky became solid. The
buildings threw unequal reflections of the sun at him as he
drove closer. Bright shards of brilliance from high windows
caught the sun. Lower windows held onto shadows of night. In
places an electric light pierced the shadows. In places someone
else was beginning their day.
The Tesla parked in front of the 'Good Egg'. He was the Eggs'
first customer of the morning. Orange clouds reflected in the
window glass as he walked to the door. Suspended in the
motionless morning air, the clouds soaked up the rising sun.
Hash-browns toast and coffee with a side of facon (fake bacon)
was going to be good. Everything in a Good Egg breakfast was
island grown. Before Helter Skelter the staff had all been
students at the Vegan Institute. Specialists in nutritious plant
based gourmet foods. He liked having the Good Egg staffed by
island labor instead of foreign students now. Distracted and
serious students. Most of the time music was off when the
students worked. With Island staff things had changed.
'Rock Your Baby' played in the background. The atmosphere was
warm and inviting. Island staff knew part of the job was to
communicate with people and see what they needed besides food.
Asking how people are doing is as important as serving
breakfast. Working at the Egg is a nice work assignment to have.
The job is not to teach people how to eat like the former staff
of students had naively assumed and been told. Perceptive
students pondered how people on the island seemed to know as
much about meat substitutes as they did. People who seemed, they
thought, not to have any connection with the Vegan Institute at
all.
The Vegan Institute, now without foreign students is the Island
Culinary School. The Institute is folded into the Island
Cooperative. All Island residents work for and own the Island
Co-Op. It is equivalent to citizenship. Giving over island
ownership to the Island Cooperative was part of Helter Skelter.
The Vegan Institute was administered separately under the owner
corporate umbrella before Helter Skelter stopped travel to the
island. The Vegan Institute is part of the outside world. There
still is virtual connection to the outside world where
civilization remains. Island central has green screen studios
and emails to the Vegan Institute are answered.
The Vegan Institute is reduced to a single office. An office
managed by the security staff of the Island Co-Op. Ten years
after the emails stopped the office was re-purposed. Emails had
become a thing of the past by then. But that was yet to come.
Grabbing the 'Island Daily' by the door he sat down. The Island
Daily is printed most days of the week and has been since Helter
Skelter was called. Days off are always announced ahead of time
and there are never more than two days with no publication of
the Daily at once. Sometimes news happens slow on the island.
Collecting island news for the large single page of hand pressed
newsprint can take more than a day.
Currently the Daily misses no days. International wires are
still active. The world does not yet know that no new
communication satellites will launch for at least 100 years.
Empty space on the Daily can still be filled with headlines like
and stories about - '500.000 dead in Brazil' -. He noted the
headlines were about two hours old this morning. The last
headline he saw before leaving home announced Brazil deaths at
over a million. A thermogeddon event had killed them. The
wet-bulb temperature had been above 34 degrees C for four days
in a row and the electrical grid failed from the heat. Only
generators could power air conditioning. Before anyone without a
generator became incapacitated, gunfire disputed generator
ownership. Near the Arctic where the Daily is read the tropical
climate is pleasant and not wet-bulb deadly.
Further down the Daily page local news begins. A lumber display
is being put up at the Island Store. The first island lumber
harvest is finished and processed. Due to small tree size the
largest piece of lumber offered is a 2x4 eight feet long. Later
years will bring full size lumber. The trees cut for this lumber
are temperate forest trees and were the first to grow in the
subarctic grass. They sheltered tropical trees that need a
canopy to get started growing. The tropical trees will grow
better on their own now. Selective logging produced a small
harvest which was dried and cut. The only way to find out about
the lumber display at the store without going to the store, is
to read the Daily.
Two people came through the door together. He recognized her as
Felicity, a nurse at the hospital. The man with her was part of
the Squid crew. his name was Andy. An expert in martial arts
among other things. He smiled at the pair. He did not care if
they were a thing or not. He knew Felicity but only casually.
She smiled back at him. Andy, suddenly realizing who he was
reacted as if something loud had fallen over. For a moment he
froze. Felicity noticed Andy's reaction and chuckled, 'Relax
baby it is all good'. Embarrassed, Andy feigned like nothing
happened. A return chuckle might have been a better response,
but it did not matter.
Andy slid into the first booth across from the door next to
Felicity. Soon the Egg filled with customers anxious for society
and some coffee. Before heading off to work assignments.
Pretending to read a book in the corner booth he soaked up the
atmosphere. As copies of the Daily were picked up he noticed
where attention went first. Local news exclusive to the Daily in
the lower half of the page, or did eyes start at the top looking
at international news? The page is big enough to tell. As weeks
passed he noticed interest in the outside world fell off. This
was a good thing. Preserving the past would work out better if
the pain of the dying world was kept at a distance. The Island
Security Force and the Government Council is aware of what is
happening in the rest of the world. This is enough. Just about
every way you can find out about international news is faster
than reading the Daily. The paper is hand pressed on an 18th
century printing press on one huge sheet. The moveable type is
hand set. Two people pull the screw to print a page. Everything
is at least two hours old in the Daily when it reaches the Egg.
Current headlines are only a swipe away on an island phone.
A look at the top of the Daily Sheet first is normal for
everyone. Pausing at the top to check headlines more than a
brief moment shows a reader suffering from fear. The path of a
relaxed eye travels to content exclusive to the Daily quickly.
That is where island news is.
Nobody knew why he laid out the Daily the way he did. The layout
had been his idea and it was a good layout. Nothing to question
and there is no reason to change. Changing the page layout to be
less conducive to his experiment was possible. He is no longer
the owner of the island. But going against the wishes of the
Island Censor is a bad idea. Not dangerous in itself as the
Censor is a nice well balanced guy. But changing the layout
would be embarrassingly clueless.
#Post#: 482--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: Cam Date: June 12, 2021, 4:26 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Finally sat down to read this. Fantastic work K-Dog. I read the
Great Derangement a few months ago, and it's all about why
contemporary fiction has avoided the topic of climate change
even though it is one the biggest issues facing us today. I
really enjoyed it.
I think a climate changed world is an extremely rich topic to
write about, and somewhat eerie to read as it is based on a
plausible scenario for the future and not some fantasy. Thank
you for helping to fill the huge gap in current fiction! Now
you've got me thinking I want to write some sort of short story.
#Post#: 483--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: Phil Potts Date: June 13, 2021, 4:15 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Is it possible the real reason you don't look at the main news
headline outside is; you're afraid of hearing the unthinkable
has happened and capitalism has failed?
#Post#: 486--------------------------------------------------
Re: Doom Fiction
By: K-Dog Date: June 14, 2021, 12:34 am
---------------------------------------------------------
[spoiler][quote author=Cam link=topic=18.msg482#msg482
date=1623533190]
Finally sat down to read this. Fantastic work K-Dog. I read the
Great Derangement a few months ago, and it's all about why
contemporary fiction has avoided the topic of climate change
even though it is one the biggest issues facing us today. I
really enjoyed it.
I think a climate changed world is an extremely rich topic to
write about, and somewhat eerie to read as it is based on a
plausible scenario for the future and not some fantasy. Thank
you for helping to fill the huge gap in current fiction! Now
you've got me thinking I want to write some sort of short story.
[/quote][/spoiler]
Thanks, good to hear it has an eerie feeling.
As a commercial success I am sure it would fail so if you write
something, do it for fun. I'm sure I actually don't have to
tell you that. I say it to make a point. The eerie feeling
would push away most people. Having a few zombies would make
everyone feel better because then they would feel the story
can't possibly be real.
I hope you write a story. If you are thinking of it writing one
then it is only a matter of time before you do.
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