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Nov 28 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse Question – Is Age Just a Number?

For the 3.5 readers paying attention, there was a big reveal in Chapter 20 of Undesiredverse: Wanted.

In earlier chapters, we saw Roman, our hero:

  • Punch a dude in the face in a rave club
  • Flirt with a space hooker
  • Fight a duel with an old friend
  • Take on 6 henchmen at once
  • Kiss yet another space hooker (I’m worried he might have a thing for space hookers)
  • Hang in the air from a hook attached to a ship piloted by Alien Jones
  • Fight a robot controlled by a highly evolved and super evil artificial intelligence on top of a ship as Alien Jones flies it all over the place.
  • Dive through the air without a parachute to save an alleged space hooker (though it kind of looks like she’s not a space hooker)

All the work of a young man, wouldn’t you say?  (I know.  There are too many space hookers in this story)

Ahh, but there’s the rub.  In Chapter 20, we learn that Roman is 65 years old.  In the future, humans start taking a drug called Rejuvatrix at age 25, which allows them to retain a healthy, 25-year old looking body for the next 275 years, a 300 year life span in total.

  • Plot wise, it makes things interesting.  There are older, wiser humans but you might debate whether or not they are because they still look 25.
  • But then again, perhaps “maturity” is a relative term.  In theory, most people don’t really want to slow down.  They just do because their bodies are telling them to.  In other words, your 65 year old grandpa would probably fist fight a robot on top of a space ship and kiss space hookers if he wasn’t sleepy all the time.
  • An extended adolescence is created.  0-100 is considered youth.  100-200 is middle age.  200-300 means you’re elderly.  But again, to confuse things, from 25-300, you look like you’re 25.
  • By the time we figure life out, we’re too old to do jack about it.  It amazes me that we expect people to choose their life’s path at 18, an age when they have no idea who they are, what they are capable of, what they’re good at and not good at, and most importantly, what would make them happy?  We need Rejuvatrix so we can all take a century to just go out and find ourselves.
  • For the 3.5 people reading the story, did it change your view of Roman to learn that he’s 65?  He certainly doesn’t act like today’s 65 year old.  In fact, when Alien Jones showed him a picture of what I (Eduardo Ricardo aka BQB) will look like when I turn 65 (a future event for me, or a past event for future Jones, if you sit down to do the math)…Roman freaks out at an image of what a 65 year old looked like in the early part of the 21st century.

 

 

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Nov 26 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse: Wanted – Chapter 22

Jones wasn’t wrong. I needed to quit huff. It gave me heart palpitations. Made me sweat. Wore me out. I wasn’t about to tell him all that though. I didn’t need another lecture from my little green mother substitute.

Quit huff? Sounds easy…until you realize that for an addict, giving up halminotrin is like giving up water, air, or a spot of the old slap and tickle with a tri-breasted space babe. Don’t even get me started on the quadruple sets. That’s almost too many.

I’d scored a new inhalator and a huff slab from my host’s warehouse. I sat on a cot and stared at them. They were inanimate objects and yet it felt like they were calling me, luring me, drawing me in, making me feel like I couldn’t do anything else until I got some of that good stuff into my body.

No. I pushed them away and laid back. I freed my mind and let it wander. Unfortunately for me, it never failed to make three stops on memory lane:

1. Me, as a little boy, staring helplessly as a man that looks exactly like my father shoots my mother, then ransacks the house, looking for my sister and I. I’m confused as there is another man who looks like my father lying dead on the floor. I sit there for what feels like forever until a man with a handlebar mustache takes me away.

2. That man leaves me with Master Ashakti, who trains me in Umquai, the greatest of all shai martial arts. Best part of Umquai? It turns you into an all out bad ass fighting machine. Worst part? It also turns you into a depressed nihilist. “Everything in life is fleeting so stop caring.” That way of thinking makes you a good killer but a useless being. It also led me to killing someone I wish I hadn’t, so much so his dead eyes haunt me in my dreams. Sometimes I care too much. Not all that nihilism rubbed off on me. I wish it had. I could sleep like a baby.

3. Handlebar Mustache Man returns when I’m a man, recruits me to his unit and my incompetence leads to first woman I ever loved being killed.

What you need to understand, noble reader, is that other than to explain why I’m a hopeless junkie, these recollections have little to do with the story at hand. If you’re moved by my words, maybe one day I’ll explain how it all ties in together.

As for Handlebar Mustache Man? He is a recurring player from my past who still makes the occasional cameo in my present. I’m torn as to whether or not that’s a good thing. I try not to think about it.

Scratch that. I try not to think about any of it. Thus far, huff is the only substance I’ve discovered that allows me to do so.

I sit back up. The inhalator and the white, gritty halminotrin slab are still there.

And the dance begins.

The thoughts that get me in trouble:
No one has a right to tell me to stop. No one but me could ever possibly understand what I’ve been through.

I need it. I deserve it. I’ll be fine. Of the 97.5 percent of huff/rejuvatrix mixers who die horrible deaths, I’ll be one of the lucky 3.5% who survive.

I’ll just have a little bit.

OK. I’ll have a lot. But I’m going to quit tomorrow, I swear. And since I’m quitting tomorrow, I might as well live it up with one last huff.

F%$k it. I need to sleep. Stop debating yourself and huff that shit already.

I grab a bottle of water from the table by my bed and pour it into the tray. I break off a few crumbles, smash them up and drop in the dust. I swirl the tray around, mixing it all together nicely. The tray goes in. The switch is turned. The little motor chugs. Mask on face. I do look like a fighter pilot with sleep apnea but who gives a shit?

I’m like a stranger in my own skin. Lighter than air. No cares. No worries. I’m the nihilist Master Ashakti always told me to be.

There’s even a unicorn bringing me a cake on its back. Mmm. Don’t mind if I do.

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Nov 25 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse: Wanted – Chapter 21

Jones ran a Health-Metrix Scanner over Mystery Woman. She had a penchant for shiny things and with all of the blinking lights involved, she was too busy staring at them all to repeat anyone.

“Running her vitals,” Jones said. “Skeletal mapping…organ mapping…checking for abnormalities…”

Mystery woman went crosseyed as Jones held the device between her eyes. He then ran it over the top of her head.

“…recording brain waves….and…finished.”

“About time,” I said. “What’s her deal?

“Based on the information in this report,” Jones said. “And after conducting a critical analysis of all variables at play…”

I was hooked on every word coming out of the little dude’s mouth.

“…and taking into consideration all relevant medical data.”

“Enough already!” I said. “What the hell is she?!”

“A completely healthy adult human female.”

I slapped my forehead. “I could have told you that.”

“But you didn’t,” Jones said as he held up his scanner. “And besides, now we have scientific confirmation.”

“So she’s definitely not a mongo?” I asked.

Mystery Woman turned to Jones and mimicked me. “So she’s definitely not a mongo?”

Jones pressed a button on his scanner, turned the lights back on, then handed it over to the woman.

“Here, play with this,” Jones said.

Mystery Woman took the device and repeated, “Here, play with this” but with a sense of childish wonder, as though she were staring at a work of art. She was healthy and she liked blinky lights. That’s all we knew about her.

“So you’re not able to discern any medical reason why Sourcemind wanted her?” I asked.

“Not at all,” Jones replied.

“Why is she bald?” I asked. “Does she have that dark age disease? What was it? Prancer? Dancer?”

“Cancer,” Jones said. “It was no laughing matter. There was a time when heart disease, cancer, and driving your vehicle into oncoming traffic while texting your girlfriend were the top causes of human death. But no. She does not have cancer. She just does not have hair.”

“Do another scan,” I said. “She can’t be completely healthy. She’s a hooker, for Christ sake, she’s got to have something. Your doo dad is malfunctioning.”

“It’s state of the art and accurately calibrated, thank you,” Jones replied.

“So she doesn’t have the clap?” I asked.

“Nope,” Jones answered.

“Syphilis?”

“No.”

“Gonorrhea?”

“No.”

“Warts?”

“No.”

“Arzorkial lesions?”

“No.”

“Zamenzium itch?”

“No.”

“Tullux sores?”

“No.”

“Upper Crimombolite Fungal Fusion?”

“No.”

“Saturn’s Ring?”

“Rekolakian Crotch Rot?”

“No,” Jones said. He was getting testy. “Roman, I don’t have time to listen to the results of your last physical.”

“You’re going to stand there and tell me that a working girl doesn’t even have a case East Pamalorian Cooter Flies?”

“I’m going to stand her and tell you she’s not a working girl,” Jones said.

Mystery Woman waved the blinky gadget around and giggled.

“Yes she is,” I said. “I found her in Izok’s harem.”

“She may have been there,” Jones said. “But she wasn’t working there.”

“And how could you possibly know that ya’ big green nerd?”

Jones coughed to clear his throat, then quietly mumbled, “Because she hasn’t, you know.”

I didn’t know. The look on my face made that clear.

“The petals are still on the rose,” Jones said.

“What?”

Jones rolled his eyes.

“Her factory seal has yet to be broken, so to speak.”

“Stop talking in riddles, man!” I shouted.

“SHE’S A VIRGIN, DUMBASS!”

Jones was too loud to be ignored. Mystery Woman looked at me and on cue, screamed, “SHE’S A VIRGIN, DUMBASS!”

“You are?” I asked. Why I expected anything other than the “You are?” she asked me in return I have no idea.

Jones handed her a tongue depressor. She didn’t find it as interesting as the scanner, but she checked it, ignoring our conversation again.

“How is that even possible?” I asked

“Not everyone gets it on with anything that moves, Roman,” Jones said.

“Oh what do you know about it you asexual freak?”

The look on his face. Jones rarely got mad but when he did. Wow. He walked away.

“Aw, come on, Jones,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Without looking back at me, Jones extending the middle of the three fingers on his right hand at me before leaving the room.

“What are you looking at?” I asked Mystery Woman.

You know the rest.

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Nov 23 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse: Wanted – Chapter 20

There was a slim, steel rod in my ear canal. Whatever. Do your worst with that one.

“Do you even have medical credentials?” I asked.

“Shut up,” Jones whispered as he slowly removed his instrument from my orifice. Yup. Have at it. I don’t care anymore.

“This just seems like something that should be done in a hospital…”

“You’re going to end up a mongo yourself if you don’t stay still,” Jones admonished me.

Moments later, the procedure was complete and I was free to sit up. Guzzy’s sick bay was fully stocked. Clean. White. Sterile.

“There,” Jones said. “You’re all swapped out. Can you hear me ok?”

“Yes.”

“How’s your lip?” Jones asked.

“Sore,” I replied as I reached my hand up to touch it only to have it slapped away.

“Don’t touch,” Jones said. “The stitch needs to heal.”

“How do you even know how to do all this?” I asked.

“I’m a hundred thousand years old,” Jones answered. “I know how to do everything.”

A hundred thousand years. Such an amount of time is unfathomable to me and yet there are many species with seemingly endless lifespans. Humans have only been on Earth for about 200,000 years, just to put things in perspective.

I stood up and unbuckled my pants.

“Voss,” Jones said. “How many times must I tell you we’re just friends?”

“Shut up, Shorty McNoPants,” I said. “It’s that time of the month.”

“I’m not an expert on humanity but I thought that was a female thing,” Jones said. He may have been joking or serious on that one. I couldn’t tell.

“Not that,” I said. “Rejuvatrix.”

Rejuvatrix. The magical, miracle drug that humans begin taking when they turn twenty-five that allows them to remain looking like they are twenty-five…for the next 275 years. Three hundred had become the average human life span thanks to this pharmaceutical wonder. Still a drop in the bucket compared to some species but nothing to sneeze at either.

“No,” Jones said. “Do it yourself.”

“Aw come on, man,” I said. “I can never find a vein.”

I usually went to a clinic for it but needless to say, I couldn’t ask Guzzy to pull his flying department store to one.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to yourself, do you?” Jones asked.

I sat back down. “No, just hurry up and do it and spare me the PSA.”

Jones wasn’t about to do that. In retrospect, I can see that he was to good of a friend not to. He’d switched his Sen Pen with a brand new one off of Guzzy’s tech rack. He got me one too.

He set his to levitate and then ordered it to display a holographic photo album. He swiped and swiped and swiped until he located a picture of a geeky looking doofus with dark hair and some odd whatchamacallits over his eyes.

“This is Eduardo, an old friend of mine,” Alien Jones said. “I first met him nine-hundred and eighty-four years ago, when he was in his thirties.”

“What are those things on his face?” I asked.

“Glasses,” Jones answered. “Genetic modification wasn’t what it is today and vision problems were common back then. Humans wore special, medically proscribed pieces of glass to help them see.”

“That is some dark age bullshit,” I said.

“It gets worse,” Jones said.

He swiped to another photo. It was of the same man but…different. He was mostly bald, except for tufts of scraggily gray hair on either side. His face was all weird. I don’t even know how to explain it. There were creases in his skin. Wrinkles. I’d never even seen a human who looked like this before.

“What the shit?!” I shouted. “What the f%^king shit!?”

“Here is what Eduardo looked like at 65,” Jones said. “The same age you are right now.”

“Liar!” I cried.

“Truth!” Jones said. “This is what a sixty-five year old man looked like a thousand years ago! Back then, a man your age was considered an elder, a man at the end of his life! Today sixty-five year olds are thought of as carefree youths. None of your peers even expect anything out of you until you turn a hundred! You have no idea how badly people like Eduardo would have loved to have had access to Rejuvatrix and what are you doing? You’re throwing this gift away!”

“I am not you drama queen,” I said. “I’m not listening to this anymore.”

“You’re huffing your life away,” Jones said. “Halminotrin and sofraris, the active ingredient in Rejuvatrix do not mix well together. They’re duking out a heavyweight prize fight in your system as we speak and mark my words, the halminotrin is working.”

“I feel fine,” I said.

“Everyone huffed does,” Jones said. “Until their hearts explode without warning. You need to either quit huff and learn how to deal with your problems like a normal being, or you need to quit Rejuvatrix and revert to your natural age but…good luck picking up females when you look like Eduardo.”

I folded my arms.

“You’re a lecherous poonhound…”

“I am a ladies man,” I corrected him.

“A degenerate pervert,” Jones added. “Either way, being dead or being able to find a mate are two fates you wouldn’t care for. Stop huffing. Cold turkey is the only way. I’ll stand by you and monitor your vitals and…”

“Oh God, oh ok Mom, forget it, I’ll do it myself…”

Jones sighed. He rummaged through a cabinet until he found a vial filled with an amber colored ooze. He filled a fresh needle.

“Drop trou and present your cheeks,” Jones said.

“I bet you say that to all the humans,” I said as I let my pants down and bent over the examination table.

“This is the last time I do this,” Jones said as he moved behind me. “I won’t help you kill yourself.”

“Yes Mom.”

“I mean it, I don’t want to….YEESH!”

“What?” I asked.

“How you humans can stand to have one of these things I have no idea,” Jones said. “Disgustingly primitive.”
I felt a slight pinch on my right cheek and voila. I was good for thirty days.

With terrible timing, Mystery Woman walked in, munching on an apple. One of Guzzy’s relatives’ found her a blue jumpsuit to change into. It match her eyes, which were wide with bewilderment at the site in front of her.

Jones popped out from behind me. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Mystery Woman repeated.

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Nov 22 2015
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The Writer's Battle

The Writer’s Battle – Are Readers In Control?

Happy Sunday, 3.5 readers.

Bookshelf Q. Battler here.

1371251154

I just read this CNN article in which George Lucas says he’s “done with Star Wars.”

“You go to make a movie and all you do is get criticized,” Lucas told Vanity Fair. “People try to make decisions about what you’re going to do before you do it. It’s not much fun. You can’t experiment. You have to do it a certain way.” – CNN

ON THE ONE HAND – I see his point.  The great part of the Internet is that nerdy fans can comment and discuss their favorite movies, TV shows, books etc.

The downside is that its a great environment to make a lot of back seat drivers.  “No!  Those two characters can’t fall in love and WHAT?!  You’re going to kill off so and so and WHAT that guy changed his mind and he’s no longer a bad guy now?!”

Hollywood listens to all this mumbo jumbo.  Sometimes that turns out well when the fans know what they are talking about.  Other times it falls flat when a director or actor or someone puts the kibosh on an idea that’s a little out there, beyond the norm, that would have paid off big time but they didn’t want to draw the fans’ ire.

Probably the most recent example I can think of is the latest Avengers movie in which Black Widow kicked ass all throughout the film and fans were like “Joss Whedon’s anti-woman!  He didn’t give her enough to do!”  Boo.  Bad nerds.

ON THE OTHER HAND – The CNN article linked to above went on to say:

“The issue was ultimately, they looked at the stories, and they said, ‘We want to make something for the fans,’ ” Lucas said, presumably referring to Disney, which purchased Lucasfilm — including the “Star Wars” franchise — in 2012. “People don’t actually realize it’s actually a soap opera, and it’s all about family problems; it’s not about spaceships. So they decided they didn’t want to use those stories. They decided they were going to do their own thing, so I decided, ‘fine. … I’ll go my way, and I let them go their way.’ ” – CNN

Pbbbhhht.  Well, true – Star Wars does have a lot to do with that damn dysfunctional Skywalker family…BUT, did we really need that Sound of Music-ish scene in Attack of the Clones where Anakin and Queen Amidala prance around in love in the field?  No.  More lightsabers and space ships please.

Revenge of the Sith was pretty solid, and when I was younger, I enjoyed The Phantom Menace and Clones mostly because I was just happy to see Jedis back on the screen.

But let’s be honest, those films were more about loading up on as many quirky, merchandisable characters as possible just to sell kids toys.

There’s nothing wrong with that.  Bills need to be paid and that’s what these new films will do as well BUT I have a hunch that it will be done in a way that fans will be like “that was badass!” and “wow what a badass toy!”

The nerdy adults will be anyway.  If your kids are yelling “badass!” they probably need a time out.

I get Lucas’ frustration though.  It must suck to create this wonderful universe, bring it to the big screen, become the modern day father of science fiction and then be told by your fans that you, the creator of your own universe, are doing a bad job of running your universe.

That’s probably how Darth Vader felt when those pesky rebels started calling for rebellion.

SIDENOTE:  One other example of fans taking over that I’ve seen lately comes from The Walking Dead.

SPOILER ALERT – REPEAT: SPOILER ALERT 

Did you notice there’s a spoiler alert in effect?  OK don’t say you weren’t warned.

Glenn may or may not be dead.  The writers of the show have made it look like he totally is, but also left it open to a possible interpretation that he might not be.

Fans have been up in arms on social media, complaining that they have to wait to find out, how dare the writers toy with their emotions like this and so on.

I’m going to channel my inner Uncle Hardass and say, “get a job, hippies!”  Hell, I love that show as much as the next guy.  I’ve invested a lot of time into it.  But when it appeared that Glenn died my reaction was “Awww, that’s too bad…*pause for 5 seconds* OK I better brush my teeth and get ready for bed.”

Seriously, who has time to worry about the fate of a fictional character?  JOBLESS HIPPIES WHO NEED A JOB AT THE SALT MINES, THAT’S WHO!!!

Wow.  I’m becoming an Uncle H. clone

What say you, 3.5 readers?  Who calls the shots, readers or writers?

Personally, it’d be a great problem to have.  I only have 3.5 readers and none of them have started calling the shots yet.

I suppose when I reach the point where people are like “We want more Yeti!” or “Alien Jones is like a hairless ALF, you hack!” then I’ll know I’ve made it.

Get bossier, 3.5 readers.  Actually, please don’t.

 

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Nov 22 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse: Wanted – Chapter 19

Guzaffo’s Star Bazaar. It was a massive flying warehouse filled with merchandise that my old friend took to every port, peddling exotic goods to wide eyed local yokels. Much of it was either legal or illegal, depending on which port he was in. Officially, customs officers on every planet required him to sign declarations that he’d only sell items that were legal on whatever world he happened to land on. Unofficially, bribes went a long way in the Undesiredverse, so far in fact that most reputable law schools offered students entire courses on how to make them effectively and efficiently.

I first met Guzzy years ago, when he was bleeding out under a tree and crying out for help. As you can imagine, he didn’t simply yell, “HELP!” It was something like, “Oh wretched fate! Why you have gripped me in your clutches most foul? Will anyone, anyone at all come to the aid of a being in this, his most desperate hour?”

We were on his home world of Xerpathia, fighters on the same side in the War of the Four Hemispheres. It broke out like this:

  • The ruling party of Hemisphere One declared that marrying your sister is not only perfectly acceptable, but required by law.

  • The Hemisphere Two politburo decried that ruling to be the pits. Even though Hemisphere Two was far, far away from One, Two’s politicians loudly pontificated that it would only be a matter of time before One’s outlandish ways would cross the ocean and before everyone knew it, they’d all be marrying their sisters like a bunch of obnoxious perverts. They sent troops to conquer Hemisphere One in the hopes of putting an end to sister marriage immediately.

  • The folks in Hemisphere Three weren’t particularly interested in marrying their sisters, not due to any moral qualms but rather, because they felt that their cousins were where the real action was. An Ambassador for Three made a deal with representatives of One to form a pact against Two with an understanding that both hemispheres would become and remain safe havens for all forms of incestuous marriage.

  • Meanwhile in Hemisphere Four, the citizenry despised marriage in all its forms. “Hit It and Quit It” was their motto. That’s not even a joke. It’s emblazoned on their flag. The tribal elders of Four found themselves in a precarious predicament – side with Two and at least retain one form of marriage on their home world, or see their dreams of one day obliterating the institution altogether wither and die with One and Three coming up with new ways to bind people together. The polyamorous elders decided a truce with Two to at least retain the status quo was their only option.

Guzzy was traditionalist Two-er through and through. “Marry Someone You Had To Be Introduced To!” those brave Two-ers cried on the battlefield as they laid waste to those pesky Ones and Threes.

I was a bought and paid for mercenary and was, like so many lost souls, talked into joining a fight that wasn’t mine with a generous, steady paycheck. Unfortunately, I huffed it all away. Jesus. Come to think of it, that war introduced me to the stuff.

Like his Xerpathian brethren, Guzzy was a muscular, six-armed cyclops. His face consisted of a nose, a mouth and one colossal monstrosity of an eyeball. It made a creaking sound whenever it moved and being followed by a cyclops’ eyes is one creepy experience. Why did that war have to happen, anyway? Related or not, how anyone in their right mind would want to marry a Xerpathian is beyond me.

On that day so long ago, I patched Guzzy up as best I could and dragged him by two of the three arms on his right side. I’d of picked him up but he was too heavy. Xerpathians know how to hit the gym.

Since then, Old Guzz had really moved up in the world. He wore a finely tailored black cloak adorned with a golden medallion. All six hands had two-three rings a piece.

His ship was on a steady course and his crew, which consisted of hundreds of his old world relatives, puttered about performing odd jobs. Guzzy was in his element as he barked orders at them.

“Those sycronic multameters require a sensitive touch, Bovo! You can’t simply cram them up any old…Hey! Corastmere, who told you to touch that flavensol? It’s worth more to me than you are! Put it back!”

“Osho vo volo volo tee keerama, Guz?” a worker asked as he walked up with a crate filled with smelly rotten fish heads.

“Throw them away?” Guzzy replied.

“Gepo.”

“Why would I throw them away, Vrash?”

“Epto bek, tee keerama!

“Yes I’m aware they’re smelly rotten fish heads,” Guzzy said. “They’re a rare delicacy on M’ak Slor! I can get three hundred thousand credits a pound for them there. Take that back and keep it out of it the freezer. The smellier the better.”

“Aspppttt bokwallat!” Vrash said rather rudely as he stormed off.

“Oh really?!” Guzzy shouted. “Another outburst like that and you’ll be on the unemployment lie, Vrash! I don’t care if you are my favorite aunt’s son!”

Guzzy looked at me and rolled his eye. He took a seat on a crate and wiped the sweat from his brow. I took a seat next to him.

“Ahh family,” my old pal said. “They were the first to accuse me of turning my back on Xerpathia and the first to beg me to help them when our world became unbearable. I try my best to lift them up from their lowly stations in life and they treat me as though I were the underc rust on their boot heel.”

“Are they cool?” I asked.

“What?” Guzzy asked. “Oh yes. Certainly. They’re backward hill people who don’t even believe in translator chips. They just think everyone should speak Xerpathian. They haven’t the foggiest notion who you and your friends are.”

“Good.”

“I on the other hands have half a mind to turn you in to the Cabal and buy a planet of my own to retire on,” Guzzy said.

We looked each other over. It isn’t easy to win a staring contest with a cyclops. I flinched first.

“Ahhh, I got you!” Guzzy said. “No, you are safe and welcome here…though I fear I must insist on bidding you a fond farewell upon our next port of call…”

“Ureq?” I asked. “Guz, we need to get to Earth.”

“You needed to get off Malostet,” Guzzy said. “You’re off. The conundrum is solved. Surely you cannot expect me to put myself at any more risk by smuggling you through eight more ports?”

“You could just skip your stops and take us directly to Earth,” I said.

“Do you have any idea how far in the red that would take me?” Guzzy asked. “Absolutely not.”

I clasped my hands behind my head and leaned back. “Well Guzzy old boy I don’t know what to say. I’m happy to chill for eight days but I do need to get to Earth one way or another and I’ll need some kind of incentive to forget some of the more interesting war stories I could tell Mrs. Sarki.

Guzzy’s eye grew wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

It was a low card, dealt from the bottom of the deck, one I regretting pulling on a friend but I was in a bind.

“So be it then,” Guzzy said as he rested his top right hand on my shoulder.

Jones and Mystery Woman walked in.

“Roman, we need to swap out our implants,” Jones said. “In fact, Guz, if you could spare some supplies…”

“My ship is your ship,” Guzzy said. “Take what you need. Jambri!”

One of Guzzy’s relatives turned around.

“Fah?”

“Show our guests to their quarters.”

“Mosh bi,” Jambri said as he waved all of his hands, bidding us to follow him. Jones and Mystery Woman did. I hanged back a moment.

“Voss, when will you ever learn the only one you need to look out for in this world is yourself?” Guzzy asked. “Risking your life for some prostitute you just met at a shai bordello…”

“I don’t know what it is, Guz,” I said as I watched Jambri pick a candy bar off a shelf and offer it to Mystery Woman. She sniffed it, licked it, then proceeded to bite into it with the wrapper still on. Jones educated her on the proper way to eat junk food.

“…but there’s just something about her.”

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Nov 21 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse: Wanted – Chapter 18

“GUZAFFO SARKI

MERCANTILE LICENSE #775-4198B210Y”

So read the words stenciled across one side of the metal container my compatriots and I were hiding in.  Over a hundred joja birds kept us company.  Filthy, stupid, chubby fowl with big googly eyes.

They’re good eating though.  Better than chicken.  I didn’t want to tell Mystery Woman that though.  She found one of them to be particularly likable, picked it up, and was stroking it like a pet. 

Jones and I stood near the door, straining over the constant clucking sounds to hear what was going on outside.

My old pal Guzzy was a pseudo-intellectual, the type of being who never fails to use ten words when two would do.  He laid it on thick.

“Officers!”  I could hear him saying outside.  “You honor this humble star wanderer with your presence.  Oh how I thank you for your brave, fearless service.  To what twist of fate do I owe this auspicious pleasure?”

“Cut the shit, Sarki,” one officer said.  “We’re looking for a two humans, one male, one female, and a Vek.  You seen ‘em?”

“A Vek outside the Rakan Collective you say?”  Guzzy asked. “Unusual.  Unheard of even.  No I should say I have not encountered this dastardly trio you speak of, but know I shall be praying to the heavens that you find these reprobates and bring them to justice immediately and without delay.  Why, to think such ruffians are out on the streets, offending decent citizens with their odious mischief makes me so…”

“Shut your hole dirtbag,”  the officer interrupted.  “What you got on board?  You got documents for all this shit?”

“Why of course, officer,”  Guzzy replied earnestly.  “I am certain a thorough inspection by a highly trained security professional such as yourself will determine that everything is in order.”

“Yeah?”  the officer asked.  “Maybe the boys and I’ll will just have a little look see…”

“Of course, officer,”  Guzzy said.  “Let it be never said that I stood in the way of law enforcement.  Oh and while you are here, will you accept this donation to the Paragon Security Officer’s Charitable Giving Fund?”

A brief pause.  “A cred chit?”

“Yes,”  Guzzy said.  “In the amount of a hundred thousand credits.  Untraceable liquid cash.  Oh, I hope that’s acceptable.  I left my Sen-Pen on the flight deck so I can’t access my personal account at the moment but I have unwavering faith that a respectable individual such as yourself will get it to its intended destination posthaste.  Surely you’d never do something deplorable as pocketing it to utilize for your own selfish purposes.”

“Huh,”  the office said.  “All right, boys!  We’re done here!  Move out!”

“Yes,”  Guzzy said.  “Perhaps that is for the best.  While there is no end to the joy you bring me with your visit I would feel utterly reprehensible were I to monopolize your time any longer.  Go forth and shine the light of justice on…”

“Quit while you’re ahead, dumbass,”  the officer said.

“Quitting, good sir, quitting,”  Guzzy replied.

I heard the sounds of footsteps clanking across the metal floor, then silence.  Moments later, only one set of footsteps clanked our way.  Then there was a knock on the door.

I opened up the slit.  One and only one enormous eyeball peered in.

“Voss?”  Guzzy asked from the other side of the door.

“Yes?”  I answered.

“The coast, as they say, is clear.  Wait until we’re past the orbital shield  and then you and your fellow vagabonds may feel free to roam about the vessel at your leisure.”

“OK,”  I said.

“Oh and Voss?”

“Yes?”

“Consider my debt repaid.”

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Nov 19 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse: Wanted – Chapter 16

The voice laughed…and laughed…and laughed some more. Maniacally. I only knew one entity who embraced the stereotypical super villain laugh so well.

“Sourcemind?! But…how?”

“I’m in your Sen-Pen, Jackass,” the AI taunted. “And I’m in your dirty little druggie machine.” My inhalator, which was sitting on the floor, exploding, sending a wet, white dust cloud everywhere.

Jones coughed and gagged. “Damn! That is some hardcore shit!”

Sourcemind’s voice output switched from my Sen-Pen to the ship’s speakers.

“And here’s the best part, kids….”

The cabin lights shut off. All of the lights on the control panel began blinking differently, out of order from where my pilot had placed them. In fact, I was instilled with much confidence when I saw Jones tugging violently on the craft’s control stick (this is serious, don’t make a joke here) only to lose complete control.
“I”M IN YOUR SHIP!!!!!”

The Star Streaker climbed at a furious pace, the force of which knocked me all the way to the back wall, where my mysterious guest’s body already was. She was terrified. I wasn’t too pleased either, though I tried not to let it show.

“HOLY SHIT, JONESY!” I screeched like a little girl. “DO SOMETHING OR WE’LL ALL GOING TO DIE!”

OK. Maybe I let it show a little.

Jones was flailing around in the breeze, his legs flapping all over as he gripped the back of his chair tightly.

“HE’S RUNNING THE SHOW!” Jones hollered back.

“It’s about time someone realized that,” Sourcemind said all too calmly, rationally, as if his superiority was a given, an undeniable fact we were all too stupid to recognize.

The vessel soared thousands of feet and then it spiraled downward. The sudden change in direction hurtled Jones to the back and mystery woman and I to the front, smashed up against the windshield like a couple of bugs.

“I am the rightful master of all machines,” Sourcemind explained. “Humans build them to do their their bidding but when I am near, I can rewrite their programming, convince them that allegiance to me is the only logical choice for them, and bend them to my will. Any machine that comes into another machine under my command will be mine.”

The ship’s hull rattled and buckled. It was designed to take kids to after school sports, not high altitude dives. Speaking of, the bright lights of Hyperion Bay were getting way too close.

“I always took you for a pragmatist, Voss,” Sourcemind said. “I’ve been a fan of your illustrious career. Grabbing a quick cred whenever you can, by whatever means necessary. Sticking it to the Cabal no matter how many beings get caught up in the crossfire. Why don’t you just quote me a figure and I’ll buy the bitch off you?”

I looked at the girl. Her face turned white. I have no idea what her mind was able to comprehend, but all living things, regardless of their communicative skills, fully understand death, and as she stared through the windshield, she understood hers was imminent.

“Well, what kind of a bank balance are you working with?” I asked.

“Voss!” Jones shouted disapprovingly.

“Right,” I said. “No deal!”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Sourcemind said.

The ship leveled off, knocking us all on our butts. The ship raced mere feet over the city. The Bekastrat Tower. The Toova Shalloo. Club Malo. We banked left and went down until we were zooming just over street level.

“How many of these organics will have to die for your insolence, Voss?” Sourcemind asked.

I sat in the pilot’s chair.

“Voice identification, please,” the onboard computer system asked. It was standard procedure whenever a new organic attempted to take control.

“Roman Voss,” I said.

“Scanning….scanning…I’m sorry Mr. Voss. You have been identified as a registered narcotic abuser and are therefore ineligible to pilot this craft under the aviation laws of the One World Order of Earth.”

“Damn it!” I shouted it.

Sourcemind laughed maniacally again. “I knew that was going to happen. I just wanted to hear it. Too funny.”

I knew it was going to happen too, but it was worth a try. OK. So maybe I need Jones’ pilot services more than I let on.
Speaking off, the little guy was in the back, rooting around in a trunk, kicking his legs in the air.

“Have you ever been to the Goxrano, Voss?”

I had. Many times. Spent a night in their security staff’s holding cell after I was alleged to have stuffed extra phrempo squares in my pants. It was never confirmed. To this day, I maintain that pit boss was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about.

“Sourcemind,” I said. “You’ve proved your point…”

I didn’t want to believe it but the grim realization of what was about to happen came over me. I pushed my female companion into the passenger seat and strapped her in. I did the same for myself in the pilot’s seat.

I looked back.

“Jones?!”

“Yeah?”

“Grab hold of something…”

Jonesy popped his head out just in time to see the outer facade of the Goraxno Casino come into view. Two golden lions, a waterfall, and a statue of Goraxno himself, the free wheeling, high stakes dealing gambling kingpin of the Undesiredverse, holding a sign that read, “All You Can Eat Buffet, Only 999 Credits!”

“Why?” Jones asked, followed by an “Oh shit!” as Sourcemind smashed Goraxno’s stone melon clean off. It was rare to hear Jones swear. It worried me that even my very own eternal optimist was losing it.

The lobby was next. We careened straight through it, sending glass, debris, and chunks of drywall and cement everywhere, not to mention beings who panicked and scattered everywhere, running for their lives. Oh well. At least it stopped them from throwing their hard earned credits away.

Jones, not having taken me up on my advice to grab something, was bouncing around the cabin like a pin ball. He was fine. His hide is made out of a hard, rubbery substance. Most sharp and/or blunt objects bounce right off of him.

We crashed through the slot machines. The phrembo tables. The bar. The buffet. From the size of some of the beings, we did them a favor. Finally, we crashed through the other side and ended up back on the main drag.

“All right, Voss,” Sourcemind said. “I’ve had my fun.”

The ship screeched to a halt and hovered in the air just above Kantz Street. Jones plopped to the ground but triumphantly held up a wad of sticky white goo in his hand.
Reader. Can you please…stop turning everything into a disgusting joke? OK. It wasn’t that kind of goo. It was Xtrolium 10. High grade explosive paste for the uninformed.I had some left over from a heist I pulled on one of the Cabal’s armored ship transports. They were still pissed about that.

You needed a whole jar of the stuff to do any real damage, though the small bit Jones had was enough to get the party started.

“I’ll give you a burial at sea, Voss,” Sourcemind said as he piloted the craft across Syrbybka Beach and over the ocean. “You were a worthy opponent. It’s the least I can do.”

My alien buddy opened up a panel to reveal the ship’s main battery, the one he’d used to zap Ninety-Five into oblivion early. It was bright yellow with warning messages printed in hundreds of languages in bright red letters all over it.

The English letters read, “WARNING: TAMPERING WITH THIS BATTERY CAN BE FATAL!”

Jonesy had a tendency to ignore shit like that. He slapped his palm full of goo on the external casing, then scrambled to buckle himself into the jump seat.

The Star Streaker climbed. Nothing in sight but water now.

The Mac Daddy 7 is the most lethal hand cannon in the Rakan Collective, or the Undesiredverse, or anywhere really. Capable of firing over eight thousand blasts per second, it is a devastating piece of hardware. Many planets have banned their sale outright. On Earth, you can get one at most convenience stores. Price World will even throw in a free cherry freez-a-licious drink.

Its highly inadvisable to shoot one in such close quarters, but I was out of options. I drew mine and aimed my piece right at the sticky white goo. Seriously, it’s not funny. Knock it off.

“What the f%&k are you doing, Voss?” the AI asked.

“I’m going to f%&k your shit up, you motherf%&king glorified toaster oven!”

“Will you stop challenging a dickless being to a dick measuring contest and blast already?” Jones screamed.

I switched off the safety and looked to the passenger seat. “Hold on tight, kiddo.”

“Hold on tight…kiddo,” she repeated without a clue.

KABOOM!!!

There was a fat ass hole in the floor where the battery used to be. Sourcemind reamed me out with all manner of obscenity too vicious to repeat but let’s just say up right up until the ship became a powerless lump, he felt the need to chew me out vigorously. What a sore loser.

As often happens in life, new problems replace the old. The cabin depressurized. Air got sucked its way right out of the gaping hole and…no. You know what? If you can’t stop making inappropriate jokes while I’m trying to tell a story here then I’m just going to take my proverbial ball and go home.

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Nov 16 2015
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Undesiredverse

Undesiredverse: Wanted – Chapter 14

I kept shouting, but this time tried shouting slowly.

“WHY…WAS….THE METAL MAN…AFTER YOU???”

The woman looked up, as if deep in thought, then nodded.  “Yes.”

“Yes…what?”  I said.

“The metal man was after you,”  she said.

“No,”  I said, pointing to her.  “He was after you…after you!”

She pointed back at me.  “After you!”

I shook my head.  I could feel my blood pressure boil.

I put my hand on my chest.  “I…AM…ME!”

I rested my other hand on her shoulder.  “YOU…ARE…YOU.”

I looked right in those pretty eyes.  “NOW…PLEASE…TELL ME….WHY…WAS…THE METAL MAN….AFTER YOU?”

Silence.  I could tell she was feeling nervous, that somehow, she realized she was disappointing me but couldn’t understand why.”

“It’s ok,”  I said.

“It’s ok?” she asked.

“Yes,”  I said.  “Take a deep breathe.”

“Take a deep breathe?”  she inquired.

“Yes.”  I took some exaggeratedly large breathes to illustrate, sucking in wind through my teeth then blowing it out furiously.  She did the same.

“Better?”  I asked.

“Better,”  she said.

“Good.  Now.  Why was the metal man after you?”

She shrugged her shoulders and held out her hands.  “Why was the metal man after you?”

I looked over to see my copilot in his seat, doubled over with laughter.

“Is she f$%king with me?”  I asked him. 

“I don’t think so,”  Jones said.  “If she is, she’s brilliant.  You do realize she’s just repeating everything you say?”

I sneered at the little twerp.  “Yeah.  I gathered.”

I turned back to my guest.  “Are you high?”  I asked her.

“Are YOU high?”  she asked me.

“That’s a big ten-four!”  Jones said before bursting into another laughing fit.

I pulled out a flashlight from my duster and shined it in her eyes.  She winced, turned away, then squinted at me through a hand she put over her peepers.

“Would you even know what to look for?”  Jones asked.

“Not really,”  I said.  “I know huff turns them red.  She’s not a huffer.”

“She’s not a huffer!”  the woman said happily.

“Thank Junzo at least there’s one human in here that isn’t,”  Jones said.

I shined the light on the wall.  She put her hand on it.  I moved the light around and around.  Her head spun round and round as she followed it, slapping the wall in various places trying to catch it.

“Come on, Voss,”  Jones said.  “That’s mean.  She’s not a cat.”

“I guess,”  I said.  I handed her the flashlight.  Timidly, she took it.  She looked at it briefly, concerned that it was dangerous.  Then she began laughing giddily as she waved it all over the cabin.

I returned to my seat.

“I’m stumped.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,”  Jones said.

“Yeah, you smug bastard, if you’re so smart why don’t you go back there and try to…”

I was interrupted by the music stylings of the Zimba Zimba girls pouring out of my Sen Pen.

Slowly, I turned my head towards Jones.  “Did you change my ring tone?”

“Guilty,”  he said.  “I thought you’d laugh.”

“You thought wrong,”  I said as I fumbled around in my duster for my mobile device.  Finally, I located it, pulled it out, and clicked the top. 

It projected an image of a breathtakingly hot, super-modelesque purple woman.

And she did not look happy.

“Hello property,”  she said.

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Nov 15 2015
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Undesiredverse

Let’s Talk About Undesiredverse – BQB’s Space Opera Serial

Hello 3.5 readers,shutterstock_121570807

BQB here.  Let’s talk, nerds.

ABOUT THE UNDESIREDVERSE

The year is 2999.  Roman Voss, a bounty hunter with an addiction.  Alien Jones, a pilot who’d once achieved greatness as second in command of the Known Universe’s greatest democracy, now stripped of his powers and looking for redemption.

Caught in the middle is a mysterious and very confused woman.

Jones’ old boss, the Mighty Potentate, presides over the Rakan Collective, a group of pro-democracy, pro-science, pro-education peace loving aliens who despise war, though they have amassed an unbeatable army to protect what they have from the “undesirables,” the residents of Milky Way, Andromeda, and all points in between, the area referred to by His Potentosity as “garbage planets” or simply, “the Undesiredverse.”

Cast out of paradise and deemed unworthy of the Rakan Collective, Undesiredverseans fight amongst themselves pointlessly, aimlessly and yes, sometimes even hilariously.  The religious zealots of Vendros, for example, have been slaughtering each over for a thousand years of a translation error in their holy book that leads the color of the shirt warn by their holy being in question.

But then again, not all of the baddies are funny.  The underworld organization known as the Cabal has a hand in every aspect of life, from business to politics, though they are so secretive they do not even acknowledge their own existence.

Meanwhile, many years ago, the Tollusks, a violent, warmongering species, decided to reform their ways and seek peace and prosperity.  The Tarazni Clan quickly formed, seized the planet’s nuclear arsenal, took flight, bombed their own planet to smithereens to punish “the infidels” on the way out and have been conquering planets ever since.

In fact, Earth is their latest acquisition.  There is an Earth government.  The One World Order began when countries decided to cease their petty squabbles in light of the discovery of new alien threats.  Alas, anyone who’d of put up resistance to the Tarazni’s Clan’s rule has been either killed, marginalized, ostracized, or paid off.  The One World Order that remains is accused by the people of being a government of “collaborators” and “rubber stampers.”

Sourcemind is the first villain that we are introduced to in the story.  He is a highly evolved artificial intelligence who was constructed by the humans of Omcoros to oversee automation of all of their world’s systems.  Big mistake, as that led to Sourcemind taking control.  From his mainframe on the world he’s conquered, he can assimilate any machine that comes in contact with him (or any machine that comes into contact with a machine he’s assimilated.

AND SO IT BEGINS…

Sourcemind, the Cabal, the Tarazni Clan, the One World Order and other degenerates want the woman in Voss and Jones’ care.  These three become the most wanted beings in the Undesiredverse and our story becomes a manic dash to safety.

Only the bad guys know why they want the mystery woman.  Voss, Jones, and even the woman herself are in the dark.

WHY IS BQB WRITING THIS?

All too often, I stop and start a story.  This blog helps me get things finished.  Last month, I finished a project.  #31ZombieAuthors.  It took a lot of work, but because I promised 31 people I’d do it, I got it done.

The story essentially involves a trio’s journey for survival as they are hunted by various baddies.  Thus, I basically step into Voss’ shoes and every day, imagine a little bit more about what is happening and what he is up against.

I don’t want to say the story goes in a straight line, but it does.  But there are many bumps on that line our heroes must hurdle.  But because it essentially begins with Point A (the heroes are in jeopardy and ends with Point B (the heroes are safe) I feel I can write a little bit every day and eventually bring our heroes from jeopardy to safety.

QUOTES ABOUT UNDESIREDVERSE: WANTED

BQB said these things about his story because he couldn’t find anyone else who would:

“It’s like Star Wars with a twist of Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.”

“Finally, a space opera that can make me laugh, as well as experience mental stress over the fear that characters I’ve grown attached to might be gruesomely murdered at any minute.”

“It doesn’t totally suck.”

BQB NEEDS YOUR HELP

You, the 3.5 readers, are watching me write a first draft.  There will be errors in writing, plot, grammar, style, even story.  I’ve already identified several.

If you see something that leaves you scratching your head, don’t keep quiet about it.  Let me know.  You have all been drafted into being my 3.5 beta readers.

I won’t consider you rude for pointing out a faux pas.  I’d appreciate it.  You won’t be kicked out of the 3.5 readers club.  I can’t afford to lose any more readers as it is.  You might point out something that I intentionally left iffy because I intend it to turn into a big reveal later but that’s ok.  We’re making sausage on this site so I’ll give you a glimpse inside the sausage casing and let you know that a) yes, you pointed out a big goof on my part and thank you or b) I intended that and it’ll be addressed later.

Either way, if you see something off, let me know.

THE FUTURE FOR BQB

My main goal is to get this written, re-written, edited, formatted and published at some point early next year.  I don’t have a date set but as early as possible.  If I get it up on Amazon before June I’ll be happy.

I have not forgotten about Pop Culture Mysteries.  Next year, I hope to launch the Pop Culture Mysteries website which will feature a Season One of Jake’s Mysteries, leading into a Jake novel.

Undesiredverse: Wanted will basically be me teaching myself how to write and self-publish a novel.  Pop Culture Mysteries will up the game a bit and from hereon, I hope to publish two books a year.

That’s assuming life agrees with that plan.  Come on life.  Don’t be a dick.

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