6479 lines
312 KiB
Plaintext
6479 lines
312 KiB
Plaintext
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Sunlight Through The Shadows
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Volume II, Issue 7 July 1st, 1994
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Welcome........................................Joe DeRouen
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Editorial: Happy Anniversary!..................Joe DeRouen
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Staff of STTS.............................................
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Special Survey for STTS Readers...........................
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Special News Regarding STTS and the Internet! Read This!
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>> --------------- Monthly Columns -------------------- <<
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STTS Mailbag..............................................
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My View: Cultural War.......................L. Shawn Aiken
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Upcoming Issues & News....................................
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ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ Advertisement-Channel 1 BBS
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>> --------------- Feature Articles ------------------- <<
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STTS Survey Results............................Joe DeRouen
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ÿ Advertisement-Exec-PC BBS
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>> ----------------Reviews ---------------------------- <<
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(Software) Launch! v1.8 for Windows.......Louis Turbeville
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(Software) Trade Wars Utilities...........Louis Turbeville
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(Movie) The Shadow...........................Bruce Diamond
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(Movie) Blown Away...........................Bruce Diamond
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(Movie) I Love Trouble.......................Bruce Diamond
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(Books) Night Relics/James P. Blaylock.....Heather DeRouen
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ÿ Advertisement-T&J Software
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>>ÿ First Annual "Best of STTS" Awards <<
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>> --------------- Best of Fiction -------------------- <<
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The Caravan..(Dec 93/Jan 94)....................A.M.Eckard
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Lifeboat..(Mar 94)............................Robert McKay
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A Chance Meeting in the Park..(Feb 94).........Joe DeRouen
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Close Encounter of a Different Kind..(Feb 94)Sylvia Ramsey
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The Imp..(Aug 93).................................Ed Davis
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Honorable Mentions: The Other Half of the Top Ten.........
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ÿ Advertisement-Chrysalis BBS
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>> --------------- Best of Non-Fiction ---------------- <<
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[TIE] Michael Elansky: Anarchist? (Nov 93).....Gage Steele
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[TIE] Musings..(May 94)........................Joe DeRouen
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If I Had One Wish...(Oct 93)..................L.J. Herbert
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A Pancea for Cheezy Movies..(Feb 94)........L. Shawn Aiken
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Halloween: A Prequel..(Oct 93)...............Brigid Childs
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Honorable Mentions: The Other Half of the Top Ten.........
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ÿ Advertisement-Daily Horoscope BBS Door
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>> --------------- Best of Poetry --------------------- <<
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A Mushroom Dawn..(Apr 94)..................Daniel Sendecki
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Gray House Cat..(Dec 93)..........................Jim Reid
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Mi'Lord..(Dec 93)...........................Patricia Meeks
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In Time the Heart Will Wander..(Dec 93).............Tamara
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Touch Me..(Sep 93)..........................Patricia Meeks
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Honorable Mentions: The Other Half of the Top Ten.........
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ÿ Advertisement-Texas Talk BBS
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>> --------------- Top-Ten Lists ---------------------- <<
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Jul '94: Overheard at First Congress.......Heather DeRouen
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Jun '94: Enjoying the Heat in Dallas, Tx...Heather DeRouen
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May '94: Gag Mother's Day Gifts................Joe DeRouen
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Apr '94: Things Easter Bunny Does......Joe/Heather DeRouen
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Mar '94: Celebrating St. Patrick's Day.....Heather DeRouen
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Feb '94: Proposed Movie Sequels for 1994.......Joe DeRouen
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Jan '94: Returned Christmas Gifts..............Joe DeRouen
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Dec '93: Best Christmas Gifts for Holidays.....Joe DeRouen
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Nov '93: You're Having a Rough Day in BBSland..Joe DeRouen
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ÿ Advertisement-Complete Tarot BBS Door
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>> --------------- Advertisements --------------------- <<
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||
Channel 1 BBS
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Exec-PC BBS
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||
T&J Software
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||
Chrysalis BBS
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||
Texas Talk
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||
Complete Tarot BBS Door
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||
Daily Horoscope BBS Door
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||
Programmer's Mega-Source BBS
|
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>> --------------- Information ------------------------ <<
|
||
How to get STTS Magazine..................................
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** SPECIAL OFFER!! **.....................................
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Submission Information & Pay Rates........................
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Advertiser Information (Businesses & Personal)............
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Contact Points............................................
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Distribution Sites........................................
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Distribution Via Networks.................................
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ÿ Advertisement-Programmer's Mega-Source BBS
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End Notes......................................Joe DeRouen
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ú ú July, 1994
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ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ú
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ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß . S u n l i g h t T h r o u g h
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ T h e S h a d o w s (tm) ú
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ß ßßßß ú O n - L i n e
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. ú Vol II ú
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. . No.7 ú
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Special One-Year Anniversary ù
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ú "Best Of" Issue!. . ú
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ù
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. . . . . . .
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. º ú
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. º
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± ú
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||
³ . ± ú
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. ± . ± . ±
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. ± . ± . ± ±
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± ± ± ±
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Û ± Û ± ± ±
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JD'94
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Welcome
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Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
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All rights reserved
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Welcome to Sunlight Through The Shadows magazine! In this issue, as well
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as in the future, STTS will strive to bring you the best in fiction,
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poetry, reviews, article, and other assorted reading material.
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STTS Magazine has no general "theme" aside from good writing, innovative
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concepts, and the unique execution of those concepts.
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STTS wouldn't have been possible without the aid, support, and guidance
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of three women:
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Inez Harrison, publisher of Poetry In Motion newsletter. Her's was the
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first electronic magazine I ever laid eyes upon, and also the first such
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magazine to publish my work. She's given me advice, and, more
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importantly, inspiration.
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Lucia Chambers, publisher of Smoke & Mirrors Elec. Magazine and head of
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Pen & Brush Network. She gave me advice on running a magazine,
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encouragement, and hints as to the kind of people to look for in
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writers.
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Heather DeRouen, my wife. Listed last here, but always first in my
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heart. She's proofread manuscripts, inspired me, listened to me, and,
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most importantly, loved me. Never could I find a better woman to live
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life by my side, nor a better friend.
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Now that that's said and done... Again, welcome to Sunlight Through The
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Shadows Magazine! I hope you enjoy it.
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Joe DeRouen
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STTS Editorial
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Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
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All rights reserved
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Happy Anniversary to ourselves! This issue marks the one-year
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anniversary of Sunlight Through The Shadows On-line/Electronic Magazine.
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This, our 13th issue, is a milestone in electonic publishing. As far as
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I know and have been able to determine, STTS is the first magazine to
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actually pay writers for their works. True, the honorariums are small
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||
but the annual yearly awards - awarded in this issue! - are a tad bit
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better.
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The best fiction story gets $50.00 while the best in both poetry and
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non-fiction are awarded $25.00 each. This won't make you rich, to be
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||
sure, but it's certainly a worthwhile incentive.
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This issue contains the winner and four closest runner-ups in all three
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categories; fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. It also includes *all* of
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||
the previous years top-ten lists as well as some new material in the way
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||
of reviews and editorials.
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||
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Case in point is new assistant editor Shawn Aiken's "My View" article on
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political correctness. Check it out! It's Shawn's finest work yet but
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I suspect he'll just keep turning in better and better stories. It's a
|
||
surefire candidate for next year's awards.
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One year of STTS Magazine. It some ways, it seems like no time at all
|
||
has passed. In others, it seems more like *Ten* years than one!
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Enough editorializing! Go on, read the rest of the magazine!
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Sincerely yours,
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Joe DeRouen
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July 4th, 1994
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The Staff and Contributing Writers of Sunlight Through The Shadows
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------------------------------------------------------------------
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Anniversary Issue - from July 1993 to July 1994
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The Staff
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---------
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Joe DeRouen............................Publisher and Editor
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L. Shawn Aiken.........................Assistant Editor
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Heather DeRouen........................Book Reviews
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Bruce Diamond..........................Movie Reviews
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Gage Steele............................Fiction, Articles
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Tamara.................................House Poet
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Joe DeRouen publishes, edits, and writes for STTS magazine. He's had
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poetry and fiction published in several on-line magazines and a few
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||
paper publications as well. He's written exactly 1.5 novels, none of
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||
which, alas, have seen the light of publication. He attends college
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||
part-time in search of that always-elusive english degree. In his
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||
spare time, he enjoys reading, running his BBS, collecting music,
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||
playing with his five cats, singing opera, hunting pseudopods, and
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||
most importantly spending time with his beautiful wife Heather.
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L. Shawn Aiken dropped out of college when he realized that they
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couldn't teach him the two things he wanted to do; live successfully,
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||
and write. He had to find out these things all by himself on the
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||
road. Thus he became a road scholar. After spending his life hopping
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||
country to country, state to state, he now feels confident in his
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||
abilities and is working on his literary career. His main endeavor is
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||
to become successful in the speculative fiction area, but he enjoys
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writing all forms of literary art.
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Heather DeRouen writes software for the healthcare industry, CoSysOps
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||
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS, enjoys playing with her five cats,
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cross-stitching, and reading. Most of all, she enjoys spending time
|
||
with her dapper, charming, witty, and handsome (not to mention modest)
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husband Joe. Heather's help towards editing and proofreading this
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||
magazine has been immeasurable.
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Bruce Diamond, part-time pseudopod and ruler of a small island chain
|
||
off the coast of Chil‚, spends his time imitating desk lamps when he
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||
isn't watching and critiquing movies for LIGHTS OUT, his BBS movie
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||
review publication (now syndicated to over 15 boards). Bruce started
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||
reviewing movies for profit in 1978, as part of a science fiction
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||
opinion column he authored for THE BUYER'S GUIDE FOR COMICS FANDOM
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||
(now called THE COMICS BUYER'S GUIDE). LIGHTS OUT, now a year old, is
|
||
available through Bruce's distributor, Jay Gaines' BBS AMERICA
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||
(214-994-0093). Bruce is a freelance writer and video producer in the
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Dallas/Fort Worth area.
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Gage Steele, illegitimate love child of Elvis Presley and Madonna, has
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||
been calling BBS's since the early seventies. Having aspired to write
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||
for an electronic magazine all her life, Gage is now living the
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||
American dream. Aged somewhere between 21 and 43, she plans to
|
||
eventually get an english degree and teach foreign children not to
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||
dangle their participles.
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There is very little known about Tamara, and she prefers to let it
|
||
remain that way. She's a woman of mystery and prefers to remain hidden
|
||
in the shadows of the BBS world. (Enigmatic, don't you think?)
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||
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Contributing Writers (July 1993 - July 1994)
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--------------------
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(The following writers have all appeared at one time or another in STTS
|
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during the last year)
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Kurt Becker
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Wendy Bryson
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||
T. Barrett Cervenka
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||
John Chambers
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||
Lucia Chambers
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||
Brigid Childs
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||
Ed Davis
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||
A.M.Eckard
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||
Mark Denslow
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||
J. Guenther
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||
L.J. Herbert
|
||
Albert Johnston
|
||
Kathy Kemper
|
||
Franchot Lewis
|
||
Jason Malandro
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||
Robert McKay
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||
F. Edson Meade
|
||
Tricia Meeks
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||
Todd Miller
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||
Russell Mirabelli
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||
Mark Mosko
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||
Steve Powers
|
||
Sylvia Ramsey
|
||
Jim Reid
|
||
Mark Scantling
|
||
Daniel Sendecki
|
||
Liz Shelton
|
||
Randy Shipp
|
||
Michie Sidwell
|
||
Michael Slusher
|
||
Andee SoRelle
|
||
Mark D. Stucky
|
||
Shelley Suzanne
|
||
Glenda Thompson
|
||
Author Unknown
|
||
Thomas D. Van Hook
|
||
Karl Weiss
|
||
Marty Weiss
|
||
Wm. Whitney
|
||
Louis Turbeville
|
||
David M. Ziegler
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Dave Bates is an Environmental Compliance Administrator for the City
|
||
of Goshen, Indiana. He has written several short stories, many of
|
||
which deal with ecological topics. None have been published to date.
|
||
He is also working on a novel dealing with a chemical spill disaster.
|
||
He has had one article, on household hazardous waste, published in a
|
||
national journal. His hobbies include BBSing, reading, numerous
|
||
outdoor activites and, for the time being, writing. He has a Master's
|
||
Degree in Public Administration.
|
||
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||
Kurt Becker finds himself writing in his car, when gridlocked
|
||
in traffic between home, work, and college.
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||
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Wendy Bryson, the well traveled, well read, and highly exotic music
|
||
critic, (most famous for her works of the 1970's) speaks seven
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||
languages, none of which are spoken on earth. If her writings baffle
|
||
you a little, don't feel too bad; she's puzzled by them as well.
|
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T. Barrett Cervenka is a junior at Duncanville High School who
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||
immensely enjoys writing in his spare time despite the fact that
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English hasn't ever held any great fascination for him in school. He
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||
enjoys reading just about any type of book, programming, classic rock,
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||
ham radio, and swimming for his high school team. Barrett would like
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to attend college on a swimming scholarship and, as of now, has no
|
||
idea what he plans to study in college or what he wants to become in
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||
life.
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John Chambers, forty-something, shares SysOp duties of Pen & Brush BBS
|
||
with his wife Lucia. John is the information Systems Director for the
|
||
association which accredits psychotherapists in the United States. He
|
||
also runs ABEnet, a BBS devoted exclusively to the psychotherapy
|
||
community.
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||
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Lucia Chambers, thirty-something, shares SysOp duties of Pen & Brush
|
||
BBS with her husband John. Aside from running a BBS and a network of
|
||
the same name, Lucia publishes Smoke & Mirrors, an on-line/elec.
|
||
magazine which features fiction, poetry, and recipes. She works as a
|
||
consultant in the Washington D.C. area and also writes for a living.
|
||
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Brigid Childs is a practicing Wiccan solitaire in the Dallas/Ft Worth
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area. She holds a master's degree in theatre from the University of
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Houston and has worked in the entertainment field. With three
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children, ages 16 years to 15 months, she also holds a PhD in
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Motherhood. She is married to an aspiring writer of science fiction
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and horror novels. Her previous writing credentials include
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contributions to Bruce Diamond's LIGHTS OUT and a stint as copy
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editor/reporter/chief cook and bottle washer on her company
|
||
newsletter.
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Ed Davis has been scribbling seriously or has at least enjoyed the
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||
electronic equivalent, since 1981. Prior to that, his literary efforts
|
||
were confined to whatever scrap paper he could find on a work bench at
|
||
break or lunch time, since he was spending his working hours making
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||
chips and money in the guise of a Journeyman Machinist. Married to
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the same lady for 26 years and with two children still hovering
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uncomfortably close to the nest, Ed continues to write down his
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thoughts electronically. Check out the file NEWBOOK.ZIP, available
|
||
from STTS BBS, for more of his work.
|
||
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Mark Denslow is a student at Saint Chrles Borromeo Seminary in the
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Religious Studies Division in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He is
|
||
working toward his Cerificate in Religious Studies and Roman
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Chatechetical Diploma. He hopes to be admitted to their Master of Arts
|
||
Degree Program after completing the Cerificate and Diploma. He enjoys
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Poetry, Genealogy, Computing, and Religion.
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A.M.Eckard started out writing short fiction and poetry in college and
|
||
then drifted away from it for twenty years. He spent that time
|
||
enamored of becoming a "Renaissance Man". He became a generalist in a
|
||
time of specialists and is finally getting back to writing. He can be
|
||
reached through the Internet as arthur.eckard@the-spa.com.
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Grant Guenther, sometimes known as J. Guenther, confesses to be from a
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||
long-lost Martian colony, but in-depth investigations reveals that he
|
||
was born and raised in a small but well-to-do community called
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Hartland in Wisconsin. A senior, he has written several collections
|
||
of poems, and won many awards from his high school literary magazine,
|
||
including 1st place for poetry and short-short fiction. He is the
|
||
editor-in-chief of the school newspaper and writes as a humor
|
||
columnist (or at least he thinks so).
|
||
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Albert Johnston survived twenty years of indiscretion + twenty years
|
||
of trying to get my karma straight. Forty years total. He feels like
|
||
he's the same person he was at 18, he just moves a lot slower. He has
|
||
two teenage sons, which should put him in line for some sort of
|
||
citation. He and his wife have been on a joint voyage of discovery
|
||
for the last 18 years. His main means of providing for his family at
|
||
this time is supervising a rag tag band of fugitive diesel mechanics
|
||
at the Dallas Area Rapid Transit, aka DART, in Texas. He's been doing
|
||
this for about ten years, but still hasn't decided what he wants to be
|
||
when he grows up.
|
||
|
||
A trained economist, Kathy Kemper spends much of her time away from
|
||
ordinary business pursuits. It could correctly be stated that she
|
||
has 'gone to the dogs' as a great deal of her time is spent with
|
||
her Border Collies. These dogs dominate her life (or at least try
|
||
to). She is the officer of several organizations and a free-lance
|
||
writer who has actually been published and paid for her works.
|
||
Kathy is new to the world of BBSing but seems to enjoy it greatly.
|
||
She has yet to decide what she wants to be when she grows up.
|
||
|
||
Franchot Lewis lives in Washington, D.C. He is the proud owner of a
|
||
modest 386 computer and a 14.4 modem.
|
||
|
||
Jason Malandro resides in Dallas, Texas, and has for most of his 24
|
||
years on Earth. He enjoys reading, writing, bowling, fencing, and
|
||
several other unrelated activities. Jason works in the publishing
|
||
industry and runs a successful florist business part-time. Single, he
|
||
shares his apartment with Ralphie, his pet iguana.
|
||
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||
Robert McKay was born in Hawthorne, California, one of the few native
|
||
Californians in existence. He calls the area north of Goffs home,
|
||
though he currently lives in Marlow, Oklahoma, and has in fact lived
|
||
in Texas and Oklahoma since 1980. The setting for several of his
|
||
stories comes from the desert west of Needles, where he grew up. He
|
||
has one wife and two daughters, meaning he's seriously outnumbered in
|
||
any argument. He writes mostly science fiction, with some horror
|
||
thrown in - Lovecraftian horror being his favorite, followed by
|
||
non-conventional vampire stories. He's been published in three
|
||
elecmags - Sunlight Through the Shadows, Smoke & Mirrors, and Ruby's
|
||
Pearls - and is currently waiting on the publication of two science
|
||
fiction novels on disk.
|
||
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||
F. Edson Meade enjoys scotch, lends out books, and is a dangerous pool
|
||
player.
|
||
|
||
Considering herself a "closet writer" Tricia Meeks has spent most of
|
||
her life writing stories and poetry that no one ever sees ...until
|
||
now! Inspired by her friends, she has finally screwed together her
|
||
courage and let her poetry be exposed to the public realm. Outside of
|
||
writing, Tricia is a professional psychic, sings at Karaoke Clubs and
|
||
has dance for 20 years of her life. Her other interests include
|
||
camping, karate, reading, playing the keyboard occassionally, BBSing,
|
||
working in finance, and spending time with her dog and cat, Ringo &
|
||
B.J. and riding her horse Sudanna in Waxahachie. She is single and
|
||
has lived in Dallas all her life.
|
||
|
||
Todd Miller is new to this writing thing. Originally from Canton, Ohio
|
||
he now resides in Dallas, Texas. His favorite pastimes include
|
||
collecting Grateful Dead shows, watching bands play, listining to
|
||
music, and watching football. He is not currently in college but is
|
||
ready to go back. His main goal is to find the "new" music before
|
||
anyone else and become rich.
|
||
|
||
Russell Mirabelli is currently pursuing his Master of Science
|
||
degree in Information Systems at the University of Texas at Arlington.
|
||
He works for an educational software company as a multimedia programmer.
|
||
He enjoys playing bass, cycling and rollerblading. He lives in Arlington,
|
||
Texas, with his wife and two cats.
|
||
|
||
Mark Mosko, entering that timid age of twenty-something, is the Sysop
|
||
of the nifty little board called BUBBASystems One (one word). Besides
|
||
going to a tiny college somewhere in Virginia, he also edits and
|
||
publishes (writes, illustrates, etc...) an alternative zine called
|
||
"Man Demonstrating His Superiority Over Animals." He has written about
|
||
half a role-playing game (300+ pages), several short stories, and
|
||
about 350 poems. He has just released his first collection of poems,
|
||
called "Poems Collected by Mark Mosko." So what does Mark do for fun?
|
||
Currently he paints in watercolor, draws, and sings backup for a band
|
||
(and also writes songs for them). Such a busy little beaver to be a
|
||
recluse...
|
||
Harlan Pine has lived in many differant places owing to the fact that
|
||
his father was in the Air Force. He currently resides in North Texas
|
||
by choice. Besides writing romantic vignettes, he also enjoys
|
||
exploring the relms of Dark Fantasy. He is currently working on a
|
||
novel and several short stories. This is his first sale.
|
||
|
||
Steve Powers is a free-lance writer from Denton, Texas. He writes a
|
||
monthly column for Computer Currents and a weekly column for Denton
|
||
Record-Chronicle as well as book reviews in the Fort Worth
|
||
Star-Telegram and Dallas Morning News. He's currently working on a
|
||
novel that he hopes will equal Robert James Waller :) (Not really) He
|
||
has three kids who all are anxious to be computer literate but are now
|
||
keyboard enamored; they pound on it all the time when dad is not
|
||
looking. Steve has a wonderfully tolerant wife who waits patiently for
|
||
him to stop fooling with the computer and come to bed.
|
||
|
||
Jim Reid is a hard-working federal employee who lives in Virginia with
|
||
his lovely wife Kris and two equally pretty daughters. He manages
|
||
people for a living, programs shareware for the challenge, and writes
|
||
poetry to vent the stresses created by the other two activities.
|
||
|
||
Mark Scantling is a 38 year old bald mechanic, the latter by choice,
|
||
the former by genetics. He lives in a suburb of Texas with his wife,
|
||
child, and cat. Interests include photography, reading, writing, the
|
||
Zen of lawn mowing, and listening to Donald Fagen. He'd gladly trade
|
||
the suburb in Texas for a mountain in New Mexico, as long as he got to
|
||
keep all the rest.
|
||
|
||
Daniel Sendecki is a young, emerging, Canadian writer who lives
|
||
in Burlington, Ontario. Currently, Daniel is pursuing his writing
|
||
interests at home but intends to study literature at McGill
|
||
University, in Montreal, Quebec.
|
||
|
||
Liz Shelton works in an office all day, but by night she pokes around
|
||
on her computer (to include a large portion of BBSing), and practices
|
||
her guitar (she needs a LOT more practice). Liz likes to write when
|
||
she gets the notion, as long as she doesn't have to be too serious.
|
||
|
||
Randy Shipp is a sometimes-writer who specializes in half-finished works,
|
||
an idea he decided was chic and the sign of genius after hearing about
|
||
some unfinished symphony. The generous offer from Bruce Diamond to join him
|
||
in publishing (plus free movie passes!) led Randy to take up movie
|
||
criticism. When he's not picking movies apart, he's showing conservative
|
||
political thinkers the error of their ways, reading, or playing bass or the
|
||
guitar (depending on the day of the week) He occasionally works selling
|
||
computers, too. When he grows up, he expects to teach high school history.
|
||
|
||
Michie Sidwell lives with his mother about 25 miles south of
|
||
Washington, DC., in the large shopping town of Waldorf, MD. He spends
|
||
a lot of time in nightclubs in DC that cater to the gothic/alternative
|
||
music scene. Working for a art supply store, Michie spends his free
|
||
hours with his computer and writing poetry. He plans to attend college
|
||
in the near future.
|
||
|
||
Michael Slusher is not a writer. The fact that he's been published
|
||
once or twice is not his fault. Blame the editors. What he might be is
|
||
a computer geek with a weird penchant for modems and all that they get
|
||
connected to. He signs his paycheck over to America On-Line each month
|
||
and the phone company knows how to find him, despite how well he
|
||
hides. He generally can be found wherever fans of Mystery Science
|
||
Theater 3000 dwell (MSTies, they call themselves) and runs Deep 13, a
|
||
BBS devoted to fans of the cable TV show. A major change in his life,
|
||
scheduled for March '94, will cause him to be looking for a new job,
|
||
home, and life. Wish him luck at botsnak@aol.com
|
||
|
||
Andee SoRelle is a visual artist working in both paint and clay.
|
||
She lives in the Dallas, Texas area and enjoys BBSing, (of course!)
|
||
music, film, and kvetching about her day job.
|
||
|
||
Mark D. Stucky lives in Elkhart, Indiana, enjoys BBSing, and recently
|
||
upgraded from a Commodre 128 to a IBM 80486 clone. He works as a
|
||
consultant and a writer. He also saved writer Joe DeRouen's life in a
|
||
secret government espionage adventure that we can't talk about here.
|
||
|
||
Shelley Suzanne lives in the Dallas area with her rock musician
|
||
husband Tom and their three kids Ralphie, Waldo, and Gretchen.
|
||
When Shelly isn't writing poetry, she travels the globe digging up
|
||
rare artifacts and works part time modeling for Dillards.
|
||
|
||
Glenda Thompson spends most of her days sleeping, but when she's not
|
||
doing that, she's BBS'ing around the metroplex or creating ANSI
|
||
screens for STTS. Her hobbies include: writing, poetry, music, and art
|
||
done with various media. She was never sentenced to prison for a crime
|
||
she didn't commit (or even for one that she did) and someday hopes to
|
||
marry cereal king Captain Xavier Q. Crunch.
|
||
|
||
Louis Turbeville currently works as a computer analyst for the Air
|
||
Force. He's originally from Hawaii (about an 1/8 Hawaiian <everyone
|
||
seems to ask>) and has a BBA in Management Information Systems from the
|
||
University of Hawaii. Louis is married and has a two year old son who
|
||
keeps him busy, especially when he wants to sit at the computer and
|
||
write. His interest in writing was nurtured by his wife, a journalism
|
||
and english major who's yet to be published and holds this very much
|
||
against Louis. <G> He's had a couple of reviews published on
|
||
WindowsOnLine Review Magazine and hopes to broaden his base of published
|
||
media in the near future.
|
||
|
||
Author Unknown (oddly enough, his real name) has had several stories,
|
||
poems, novels, plays, and pieces of artwork published throughout the
|
||
world dating back to the dawn of man. So far, he hasn't received one
|
||
red cent in royalties.
|
||
|
||
Thomas D. Van Hook, a sargent in the Air Force, currently lives in
|
||
Germany with his wife and new baby. Although he enjoys the beautiful
|
||
countryside there, they are all looking forward to coming home for a
|
||
visit this winter. A poet for several years, Thomas delves into the
|
||
essence of his works with characteristic clarity and honesty.
|
||
|
||
Marty Weiss began his freelance writing activities after retiring from
|
||
a career as a business executive. He's had three non-fiction
|
||
(business) books published as well as some feature and Op-Ed articles
|
||
in magazines, newspapers, and Sunday supplements. He has been writing
|
||
a regular column, "Through Marty's Eyes," for a regional newspaper for
|
||
the last several years. When not writing or BBSing, he spends his time
|
||
reading, doing business consulting, and growing older with Eileen, his
|
||
wife.
|
||
|
||
Wm. Whitney, Executive Publisher for CEL\e Productions, produces
|
||
unique e-pubs for the mass market. A former small press publisher,
|
||
author, magazine journalist and overall iconoclast, his reporting from
|
||
Planet Earth struggles to achieve intersteller proportions through the
|
||
electronic medium.
|
||
|
||
David Ziegler's first poetry was a small collection that he gave away
|
||
to a few friends. He then started writing Satirical Prose and found
|
||
it a great stress reliever. He lives in Sacramento with his wife
|
||
Gloria and two cats. They spend a considerable time traveling which
|
||
gives him fodder for the keyboard. Writing to David is a kind of
|
||
cleansing it is something that when he has to do it he has no choice.
|
||
By the same token, he couldn't write on demand if you put a gun to his
|
||
head.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS Survey
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Please fill out the following survey. This article is duplicated in the
|
||
ZIP archive as SURVEY.TXT. If you're reading this on-line and haven't
|
||
access to that file, please do a screen capture of this article and
|
||
fill it out that way. If all else fails, just write your answers down
|
||
(on paper or in an ASCII file) and include the question's number beside
|
||
your answer.
|
||
|
||
Everyone who answers the survey will receive special mention in an
|
||
upcoming issue of STTS.
|
||
|
||
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
||
1. Name: _____________________________________________________________
|
||
|
||
2. Mailing address: __________________________________________________
|
||
__________________________________________________
|
||
__________________________________________________
|
||
__________________________________________________
|
||
|
||
3. Date of birth: (Mm/Dd/YYyy) _______________________________________
|
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|
||
4. Sex: ______________________________________________________________
|
||
|
||
5. Where did you read/download this copy of STTS Magazine? (Include BBS
|
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and BBS number, please)
|
||
___________________________________________________________________
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||
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|
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6. Do you prefer to read STTS while on-line or download it to read
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at your own convenience? ( ) On-Line ( ) Download
|
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|
||
7. Are you a SysOp? ( ) Yes ( ) No (if "No", skip to 10)
|
||
|
||
8. If so, what is your BBS name, number, baud rate?
|
||
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|
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9. Do you currently carry STTS Mag?
|
||
|
||
( ) Yes ( ) No ( ) I don't carry it, but I want to
|
||
|
||
I carry STTS: ( ) On-Line, ( ) For Download, ( ) or Both
|
||
|
||
10. What do you enjoy the MOST about STTS Mag?
|
||
___________________________________________________________________
|
||
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|
||
___________________________________________________________________
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||
|
||
11. What do you enjoy LEAST about STTS Mag?
|
||
___________________________________________________________________
|
||
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|
||
___________________________________________________________________
|
||
|
||
12. Please rate the following parts of STTS on a scale of 1-10, 10 being
|
||
excellent and 1 being awful. (if no opinion, X)
|
||
|
||
Fiction ___ Poetry ___ Movie reviews ___
|
||
|
||
Book reviews ___ CD Reviews ___ Feature Articles ___
|
||
|
||
Software reviews --- Humour --- My View ---
|
||
|
||
Question&Answers ___ Editorial ___ ANSI Coverart ___
|
||
|
||
MonsterBBSReview --- My View --- STTS BBS News ---
|
||
|
||
RIP Coverart ___ Misc. Info ---
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
13. What would you like to see (or see more of) in future issues
|
||
of STTS Mag?
|
||
___________________________________________________________________
|
||
___________________________________________________________________
|
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|
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___________________________________________________________________
|
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||
|
||
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
||
Return the survey to me via any of the following options:
|
||
|
||
A) Pen & Brush Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site
|
||
->5320. In any conference.
|
||
|
||
B) RIME Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site ->5320,
|
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in the COMMON conference
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|
||
C) WME Net - A PRIVATE message to JOE DEROUEN in the NET CHAT
|
||
conference.
|
||
|
||
D) Internet - Send a message containing your complete survey to
|
||
Joe.DeRouen@Chrysalis.org
|
||
|
||
E) My BBS - (214) 629-8793 24 hrs. a day 1200-14,000 baud. Upload the
|
||
file SURVEY.TXT (change the name first! Change it to something like
|
||
the first eight digits of your last name (or less, if your name
|
||
doesn't have eight digits) and the ext of .SUR) Immediate access is
|
||
gained to my system via filling out the new user questionnaire.
|
||
|
||
F) U.S. Postal Service - Send the survey either printed out or on a disk
|
||
to: Joe DeRouen
|
||
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
|
||
Dallas, Tx. 75234
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Internet Report
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Great News!! We've switched our Internet connection around and you can
|
||
now directly subscribe to STTS via the internet!
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
INTERNET
|
||
|
||
To get on the STTS mailing list, do the following:
|
||
|
||
|
||
Send internet mail message to:
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS-REQUEST%textalk@egsner.cirr.com
|
||
|
||
With either the following in the body:
|
||
|
||
ADD SUBSCRIBE JOIN
|
||
|
||
To be added to the list or:
|
||
|
||
UNSUBSCRIBE DELETE REMOVE
|
||
|
||
To be removed from the list.
|
||
|
||
|
||
If you're a SysOp *Please* be sure to send me a note telling me your
|
||
BBS's name, your name, your state and city, the BBS's phone number(s)
|
||
and it's baud rate(s) so I can include you in the list issue's
|
||
distribution list.
|
||
|
||
Send the note to: Joe.DeRouen@Chryalis.ORG
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
If you wish to FTPMAIL request the magazine, please send mail to:
|
||
|
||
FTPMAIL%textalk@egsner.cirr.com
|
||
|
||
With the following in the body:
|
||
|
||
GET <filename.ext>
|
||
|
||
Where <filename.ext> would be SUN9408.ZIP or whatever issue you're
|
||
wanting to retrieve. The current issue available will correspond to
|
||
whatever month you're in. Septemeber 1994 would be SUN9409.ZIP, etc.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Many thanks to Texas Talk BBS (ad elsewhere in this issue) for the
|
||
gracious use of their system for STTS's Internet needs.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS Mailbag
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Dear Joe DeRouen,
|
||
|
||
I have not been on bbses for long and I have only recently discovered your
|
||
magazine. I really like it. I especially loved the Weasel articles in your June
|
||
issue. I rolled. Even in the short time I have been online, I have encountered
|
||
many of these weasel types. I felt like uploading your "12 Steps" each time I
|
||
came across one of these men in conference.
|
||
|
||
I am not usually a big reader of non-fiction, essay-oriented articles (tending
|
||
toward being a reader of fiction) but your sense of humour kept me reading til
|
||
the end.
|
||
|
||
Speaking of the *end*. I read to it in your mag and the unusual thing in your
|
||
end notes is wishing us a happy MAY instead of June. <giggle>
|
||
|
||
Thanks for an enjoyable read. You have earned yourself a long time fan.
|
||
|
||
Polly Harper
|
||
Long Beach, California
|
||
|
||
======================================================================
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
My View: Cultural War
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
[Each month, a reader/writer is offered the opportunity to give his or
|
||
her viewpoint on a particular topic dear to them. If you'd like the
|
||
chance to air *Your* views in this forum, please contact Joe DeRouen
|
||
via one of the many ways listed in CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this
|
||
issue]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Back in grade school we were assigned reports on different countries.
|
||
The teacher told us to write the embassies of our assigned countries to get
|
||
information and pamphlets for our reports. That night, while struggling over
|
||
my letter to the Luxembourg embassy, I came upon a quandary. Who would
|
||
receive my letter? A man or a woman? Should I write Dear Sir, or Dear
|
||
Madam, or Dear Sir or Madam? It was a big deal for me then. I didn't
|
||
want to insult somebody or seem stupid and have my letter trashed and not
|
||
receive the things I needed for my assignment.
|
||
So I asked my teacher what I should do the next day. She told me,
|
||
"Just write 'Sir', it's accepted by anybody." I had my answer, but didn't
|
||
feel comfortable with it. I got the data, anyway.
|
||
Then in junior high my English class received a start. It was a
|
||
writing manual handed down by the school board. It horrified me. The manual
|
||
told us what words we COULD NOT USE. We would actually have points deducted
|
||
from our papers if they contained words such as "stewardess" or "mailman."
|
||
They gave us proper word for such terms, saying that the old term where
|
||
discriminatory against women.
|
||
Our English teacher was delighted. She enforced the rules harshly.
|
||
But I was severely worried. Being polite was one thing, but being
|
||
totalitarian was another. A woman handing out drinks on a plane was a
|
||
"stewardess." A man handing out drinks on a plane is a "steward." Check it
|
||
out in the dictionary. Two completely appropriate words. Why invent a new
|
||
term for the same thing?
|
||
I understand the politeness aspect. If that's what they wanted to be
|
||
called, by all means, I would call them that. But to enforce such a thing in
|
||
school and punish those who do not obey? It had nothing to do with educating
|
||
children with writing skills. It was teaching - and enforcing - a political
|
||
philosophy. But at the time I didn't understand the ramification. It just
|
||
upset me.
|
||
Later that year I picked up George Orwell's novel 1984. It introduce
|
||
to me concepts I had never really thought about. How a totalitarian state
|
||
works. How it would be like to live in such a place. To have people
|
||
watching you through your television set. To be forbidden to say and think
|
||
certain things. I thought it was a wonderful exercise in speculation.
|
||
Perhaps it even described what it would be like to live behind the iron
|
||
curtain (remember that old term?) But in no way did it even vaguely
|
||
resemble life in America, did it? There was nothing to worry about.
|
||
And so finally I got to college. Sure, it was a dinky two year
|
||
college, but it was college - a place where I could relax and get down to
|
||
actually learning something. A place where filled with highly educated
|
||
teachers that could teach me what I wanted to learn - how to express myself
|
||
freely and concisely in the written word.
|
||
But there, first day in English class, I was confronted with
|
||
virtually the same writing manual that I saw in grade school. But it had
|
||
been upgraded to not only include neuter terms for women, but also correct
|
||
terms for just about every group in the universe. And yet again, these
|
||
rules would be enforced by the school board.
|
||
This time I looked carefully over it and discovered where it had
|
||
come from. It originated from a feminist professor somewhere in a New
|
||
England university. Nothing wrong with a feminist. It's a perfectly
|
||
appropriate philosophy considering our society. But what in the heck was
|
||
she doing? She was doing the same thing that the people she was fighting
|
||
against had done for thousands of years - trying to control people in a
|
||
nefarious way.
|
||
Now control is not a bad thing. Without some control, you get
|
||
anarchy. If stop signs didn't exist on roads, lots more people would end up
|
||
really flat. Politics is the game of 'who gets control'. Politics in this
|
||
country, at least in theory, is supposed to be decided by legally elected
|
||
representatives of certain regional blocks of people.
|
||
So here was a political philosophy being taught in schools and
|
||
colleges. Nothing wrong with that. We were learned about communism and
|
||
slavery in school. It's just knowledge. But the tests didn't ask questions
|
||
like "Is communism wrong?", then flunk you for answering "no". The theory
|
||
of there being proper words for things would have been a perfectly
|
||
appropriate thing to teach. But to enforce it by punishing those who used
|
||
words dreamed "inappropriate" is ALL wrong. It cuts at the heart of free
|
||
speech.
|
||
Latter, after dropping out of college and entering the 'real' world,
|
||
I was introduced to the lovely 'fake' world of computer networks. Such a
|
||
marvelous place, I thought upon taking my first step in. Ideas and thoughts
|
||
zipping about at the speed of light. You could talk to someone in Waukegan
|
||
about soap manufacturing, then turn around and talk to someone in Miami
|
||
about the abortion debate. The network I was on spanned all of the United
|
||
States, and I heard about other networks where you could talk to people in
|
||
Finland about ice fishing if you wanted to. Such a marvelous new technology.
|
||
Then I began to learn what was really going on with the network. A
|
||
covert censorship was taking place. Each note that you uploaded to the
|
||
system was screened by a computer, looking for various Anglo-Saxon words.
|
||
I understand the philosophy of keeping certain words away from the general
|
||
public. Little kids get armed with such words and cause all kind of havoc
|
||
in their kindergarten classes, causing their teachers to have all kind of
|
||
irregular heart palpitations and faint and such. And, horror of horrors,
|
||
parents might actually have to explain sex to their children if confronted
|
||
with such words. So I understand it - I don't agree with it - but if people
|
||
want to keep their own children in the dark, well, it's their right as a
|
||
parent.
|
||
But this was the tip of the elephant tusk to what was really going
|
||
on. The computer network employed a god-awful amount of people to read the
|
||
notes before they ended up being displayed on the system. They were looking
|
||
for words and concepts and phrases that seemed offensive. I'm not sure to
|
||
who, but they were looking for hem all right. And if they found one, they
|
||
would send the note back to you and give you a stiff warning.
|
||
This wasn't about calling someone something dirty. It was deeper.
|
||
More intrinsically evil. For instance, I am one sixty-fourth Cherokee,
|
||
mixed in with some other tribes, so I told someone this, stating "I got some
|
||
of that there injun blood in me." Woosh. The note was back to me in a
|
||
jiffy saying that I was using inappropriate and offensive language and I
|
||
better not do it again or I would be kicked off the system.
|
||
As a person of Native American heritage, shouldn't I have the right
|
||
to call myself whatever I damn well please? I am also mostly of white
|
||
Anglo-Saxon heritage. I can scream "honkey" until my throat is sore, and no
|
||
one takes any notice.
|
||
Actually, if anyone had taken any notice, the phrase, "I got some of
|
||
that there injun blood in me," says nothing derogatory about Native
|
||
Americans. Rather, I was making fun of my white ancestors by using improper
|
||
English grammar, in a way that they themselves actually used. What ever
|
||
happen to good-natured ribbing? Are the concepts of satire and parody
|
||
completely forgotten?
|
||
This incident, of which there were many other run-ins with the
|
||
computer service's "thought police", got me thinking back to Orwell's 1984.
|
||
In it was described one of the ways that the totalitarian state was
|
||
controlling people. It was called NEWSPEAK. This was a restructuring of
|
||
the language to conform with what the government though it should be.
|
||
Words that the government did not like were taken out. It was a crime to
|
||
say or use such words. The government slowly whittled away at the language
|
||
until the dictionary was reduced to a thin pamphlet.
|
||
It struck me that this was exactly what was going on in society
|
||
right now. The language was being whittled away. Perhaps the government
|
||
wasn't behind it, but someone was. I don't know who it may be. I'm sure
|
||
the John Birch Society has a pretty good idea, though, but I haven't called
|
||
them to check it out. Day in and day out there are words and concepts that
|
||
are being labeled as 'verboten' in our society. You can't even wear a
|
||
T-shirt with a picture of a man of Hispanic persuasion holding a bottle of
|
||
tequila. Not that I would ever think to do such a strange thing, but such
|
||
stories have hit the headlines all the same.
|
||
English is a rich and vital language. It's history is multicultural.
|
||
By it's nature, it has the ability to take on new words and phrases and
|
||
concepts. With it you can express just about anything you want, in any way
|
||
that you want. It is a marvelous language.
|
||
In it's formation, it has had some strange things happen. Before
|
||
1066 AD there were some Anglo-Saxons running around the British Isles
|
||
speaking a proto form of English. Then the Norman French invaded, taking
|
||
their language and customs with them. The two parts blended their languages,
|
||
forming the basis for the English language. This is one of the reasons why
|
||
we have so many synonyms for words.
|
||
But this transition was not smooth. The Norman's were the ruling
|
||
class. They wanted to stamp out the Anglo-Saxon influences on the Isles.
|
||
So they made it a bad thing to be Anglo-Saxon. It was not appropriate to be
|
||
of that culture. So they made their language a dirty thing. To use the
|
||
language was considered barbaric. It was against the laws to say some of
|
||
these words. Only the Norman French words could be used. Fornicate,
|
||
defecate, urinate - these were the good words - the appropriate words. The
|
||
Anglo-Saxon words were bad.
|
||
So, you see, it was not God-on-high who stamped those rather
|
||
harmless looking four-letter words with the mark of "profanity". It was a
|
||
tool in a cultural war that was waged against the inhabitants of Britain.
|
||
The war being waged right now in this country is of the same nature.
|
||
It may be a bit more sophisticated, but it is the same thing. One culture
|
||
is trying to destroy another. To make that culture dirty. To make the
|
||
concepts of that culture forbidden to say.
|
||
This war is very sophisticated. It's hard to say it is bad. It
|
||
waves the banner of the poor, mistreated peoples of the world. But who
|
||
really benefits? The liberals say it's the conservatives. The
|
||
conservatives say it's the liberals. When you have two groups fighting,
|
||
you usually have a third, hidden party stirring up the trouble. Whoever
|
||
this group is, they are reaping the benefits. Who are the losers? Anyone
|
||
who wants to use the English language to it's fullest extent possible.
|
||
Those people who revel in the joys of the written and spoken word are the
|
||
real losers.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Upcoming Issues & News
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
THIS ISSUE...
|
||
|
||
This issue, we celebrate the magazine's first-year anniversary. Check
|
||
it out, and let us know what you think!
|
||
|
||
|
||
NEXT ISSUE...
|
||
|
||
Who knows? We're starting on our second twelve issues, so anything
|
||
could be possible!
|
||
|
||
|
||
FUTURE ISSUES...
|
||
|
||
Look for more monthly columns as well as guest editorials and more
|
||
ANSI art.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ 110 Nodes * 4000 Conferences * 30.0 Gigabytes * 100,000+ Archives ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
ÛÛßßßßßß ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßßßÛÛ ÛÛßßÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßÛ ÛÛ ÛÛßßßßßß ÛÛ ßÛÛ (R)
|
||
ÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÛÛ ÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ Û ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ Ü ÛÛ
|
||
ßßßßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßß ßß ßßßß ßßßßßßßß ßßßßßßß ßßßß
|
||
°°°°°°°° * Winner, First Dvorak/Zoom "Best General BBS" Award °°°°°°°°
|
||
|
||
* INTERNET/Usenet Access * DOS/Windows/OS2/Mac/Amiga/Unix
|
||
* ILink, RIME, Smartnet * Best Files in the USA
|
||
* Pen & Brush, BASnet. * 120 Online Games
|
||
* QWKmail & Offline Readers * Multi-line Chat
|
||
|
||
Closing Stocks, Financial News, Business/Professional Software,
|
||
NewsBytes, PC-Catalog, MovieCritic, EZines, AbleData, ASP, 4DOS
|
||
Huge Windows, Graphics, Music, Programming, Education Libraries
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ Channel 1 Communications(R) * Cambridge, MA * 617-354-3230 14.4 ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
°°°úfasterúbetterúless expensiveú°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° "Best Files in US" °
|
||
|
||
|
||
Survey Results
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
The results are in from the survey in the June issue of STTS, and
|
||
tabulated below for a median score.
|
||
|
||
For those of you who've yet to respond, please do so now. Your response
|
||
will be greatly appreciated, and help shape the look, feel, and content
|
||
of the magazine in the months to come.
|
||
|
||
I'd like to thank everyone who responded. Each and every one of your
|
||
comments were read and taken into consideration.
|
||
|
||
In the survey, I asked the readers to rate the sections of the magazine
|
||
on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best and one being the worst. Here's
|
||
the averages, taken by adding all the scores for an indiviual section
|
||
(eg: fiction) and dividing it by the number of survey's received that
|
||
scored that section with something other than an "X" for no comment.
|
||
|
||
Magazine sections are ranked in order of scores, from highest to lowest:
|
||
|
||
|
||
SCORES
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
Fiction: 9.5
|
||
Poetry: 9.3
|
||
Book Reviews: 8.8
|
||
Editorial: 8.3
|
||
Feature Articles: 8.6
|
||
Humour: 8.7
|
||
Movie Reviews: 8.6
|
||
Software Reviews: 8.9
|
||
ANSI Coverart: 7.3
|
||
CD Reviews: 7.1
|
||
Question & Answers: 7.1
|
||
|
||
|
||
Summary: Fiction and poetry seemed to prove the most popular, as I was
|
||
sure it would. Nothing really received *bad* scores, though,
|
||
which is promising. Of the reviews, the book, software, and
|
||
movie reviews seemed to be neck and neck, followed lastly by
|
||
the CD reviews.
|
||
|
||
What the above scores really *don't* tell is that the surveys
|
||
seemed to be divided into camps. There were several people that
|
||
read STTS mainly for fiction and poetry, and almost as many
|
||
people who read it exclusively for the reviews. Both groups
|
||
scored their interest group high while X'ing a "No Comment"
|
||
on the other sections.
|
||
|
||
Again, many thanks to those of you who took the time to fill out and
|
||
send in your surveys. If you haven't yet filled out the survey, you
|
||
still have time to do so. Send it in to me before the end of the year,
|
||
and it'll make it into the January issue's final tabulations.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Thanks for reading and, if you haven't already, please fill out the
|
||
survey! <G>
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Þ°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±Ý
|
||
ÞúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúúÝ
|
||
Þ ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ 2400bps & (414) 789-4210 Ý
|
||
Þ ³ ÚÄÄÄÄÙ "The best connection your USR HST 9600 (414) 789-4337 Ý
|
||
Þ ³ ³ modem will ever make!!" USR HST 14400 (414) 789-4352 Ý
|
||
Þ ³ ÀÄÄÄ¿ v.32bis 14400 (414) 789-4360 Ý
|
||
Þ ³ ÚÄÄÄÙ Ü Ü ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ Compucom 9600 (414) 789-4450 Ý
|
||
Þ ³ ³ ßÜß ÛÜÜÜ Û ÜÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÛ Û Hayes V-Series (414) 789-4315 Ý
|
||
Þ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄ¿ Üß ßÜ ÛÜÜÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÜ Û ÛÜÜÜÜ v.FC 28800 (414) 789-4500 Ý
|
||
Þ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ Ý
|
||
Þ Ý
|
||
Þ þ Exec-PC BBS is the largest LAN and microcomputer based BBS in the world! Ý
|
||
Þ þ 280+ dedicated phone lines - NO busy signals - 24-Hour access Ý
|
||
Þ þ Over 650,000 files and programs - DOS, Windows, OS/2, Mac, Unix, Amiga Ý
|
||
Þ þ Lightning fast - Search 20,000 files in 2 seconds with Hyperscan feature Ý
|
||
Þ þ Over 42 CD-ROM's online - Scan all of them at 1 time for keywords Ý
|
||
Þ þ Special Apogee games, Moraffware games, and Adult file areas Ý
|
||
Þ þ Extensive message system with QWK compatability - Also, Fidonet areas! Ý
|
||
Þ þ Online Doors / Games / Job Search / PC-Catalog / Online Magazines Ý
|
||
Þ þ Over 5000 callers per day can't be wrong - 35 gig of online storage! Ý
|
||
Þ þ Low subscription rates: $25 for 3 months, $75 for a full year Ý
|
||
ÞúúúúúúúúúúúúCallútheúBBSúforúaúFREEútrialúdemo,úandúFREEúdownloadsúúúúúúúúúúúúÝ
|
||
Þ°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±°±²Û²±Ý
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Computer Software Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Louis Turbeville
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
Launch! version 1.8
|
||
Windows 3.1 Shareware Program
|
||
Rodney Savard
|
||
Internet: rodsavard@aol.com
|
||
|
||
Launch! is an ingenious program you use to easily start any program in Windows
|
||
3.1. If you are like me, you sometimes have trouble double-clicking on an
|
||
icon to get it started in Program Manager. Launch! is basically a graphical
|
||
menu system and with it you simply click once on an icon and your program is
|
||
started.
|
||
|
||
The other great benefit of Launch! is the amount of icons you can pile onto a
|
||
screen. Launch! will clear up your cluttered windows desktop. Launch! puts
|
||
all of the icons in a box just large enough to hold the icon. Then these
|
||
boxes are put together in a table format, with you specifying the amount of
|
||
rows or columns Launch! is to display and allow you to use. If you specify 3
|
||
rows and 4 columns then you can use 12 cells to launch any program. For me it
|
||
is worth the price to clear up my cluttered screen.
|
||
|
||
Using Launch! could not be simpler. You click your RIGHT mouse button on a
|
||
vacant box in the Launch! displayed table and you can input or edit the
|
||
contents of that box. Click on an icon box once with your LEFT button mouse
|
||
and the program is launched. Very simple and very effective.
|
||
|
||
Registration is quick and easy. When you register you will be mailed a code.
|
||
This code can be input anytime you start Launch!. Once this code is input you
|
||
are working with a registered version of the program, which is minus the
|
||
Opening delay screen. You do not have to load any new files and therefore
|
||
eliminate the opportunity to delete any setting you have. A growing trend for
|
||
Shareware authors is to use registration codes, which benefits the user and
|
||
the author.
|
||
|
||
A statement to it's excellence is the fact that the program rights have
|
||
recently been bought with the intent of commercializing the program. Mr
|
||
Savard stated that he will not be supporting the commercial version, but will
|
||
support any users of the shareware program. There is not much that can be
|
||
done to improve this program, without keeping it as simple to use, so don't
|
||
wait for the commercial version, go out and download the shareware version and
|
||
give it a test drive. I'm sure you'll be pleased, I know I was.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Computer Software Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Louis Turbeville
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
Trade War Utility Programs
|
||
==========================
|
||
|
||
There is a lot of excitement on many local bulletin board systems about the
|
||
upcoming upgrade release of the BBS door game Tradewars 2002. This is one of
|
||
the most popular bulletin board games around. The current version of Tradewars
|
||
has been around for many years and most players feel that the new version is
|
||
way overdue. However, with the release of the new version comes many questions
|
||
about the compatibility of game utilities that players currently use. The
|
||
good news is that since Tradewars 2002 Version 2 is now in an extended beta
|
||
release test which has allowed utility developers to make their products mostly
|
||
compatible with both versions of Tradewars. The bad news is that no one is
|
||
quite sure when the final version of TW will be released and what changes will
|
||
be in it.
|
||
|
||
I will review of several popular utilites, determining their pluses and minuses
|
||
and their compatability issues. The programs to be reviewed in this article
|
||
are TW Helper, TW Term, and TW View.
|
||
|
||
The game premise is that you are a space merchant/trader in the year 2002. You
|
||
are given a space ship to travel the universe and build your empire. Most of
|
||
the strategy in the game involves trading to build up your assets. Once your
|
||
assets are sufficiently built you can then chose a path for your future: be a
|
||
evil robber/bandit, work for the Federation and attack the evil Ferrengi and
|
||
their home world, or you could build up your planets to make yourself an
|
||
independant, powerful force in the universe. Along the way you interact with
|
||
other human traders and computer generated Federation personnel, Ferrengi
|
||
aliens and other miscellaneous alien traders.
|
||
|
||
When looking at a utility there are a couple of considerations.
|
||
For strategy planning you need strong database functions. Most programs will
|
||
allow you some way to look at your explored universe and allow you to plan
|
||
your next days business. A good utility will allow you to find any ports that
|
||
you can cross trade at (commonly called paired ports in TW). You can make the
|
||
most money quickly if you can find any cross trading ports that are only one
|
||
sector apart. Another useful ability is the use of macros on-line to take
|
||
some of the dregedry out of some of the more mundane tasks, like hagling for a
|
||
good price on a trade or colonizing your planet.
|
||
|
||
TWHELP:
|
||
=======
|
||
TWHELP81.ZIP
|
||
Mike Ingham
|
||
Just FUN Software
|
||
Internet: 71231.3727@compuserve.com
|
||
Registration Fee: $12
|
||
|
||
I feel that TWHelp is one of the best, if not the best, TW utility available.
|
||
TWHelp is easy to install and allows you to play up to 30 games at a time,
|
||
each with its own database. If you have enough RAM you can have an online
|
||
database even for universes of 5000 sectors. Some TW utilites still only
|
||
support the 1000 sector universe found in the older version of TradeWars.
|
||
|
||
TWHelp performs many of the database functions seen in most programs but also
|
||
has the added benefit of being able to use the database on-line. This is
|
||
helpful if you go exploring and are not sure where you are, TWHelp gives you
|
||
some commands that allows you to determine how far you are from certain places.
|
||
|
||
Also a great function is the built in macro abilities. TWHelp will
|
||
automatically perform every task you could possible want with simple two
|
||
keystroke command, from colonizing to trading. Also, because of its advanced
|
||
uses you can build up expierience much quicker by letting the program do many
|
||
of the more mundane fuctions for you, because the automated process is much
|
||
quicker and has more patience them most users will have.
|
||
|
||
You also have the ability to add notes to the database that you can view
|
||
online, such as where a traders planet is and what ship he is in, for future
|
||
reference. For the player that decides to turn evil, TWHelp will
|
||
automatically keep track of where and when you got busted for a crime and warn
|
||
you when you enter that sector so you do not get busted for trying to steal
|
||
from a port you were recently caught at.
|
||
|
||
TW Term:
|
||
========
|
||
TWTERM22.ZIP
|
||
Will Boyett
|
||
Registration Fee: $18
|
||
|
||
This program offers you a graphical interface into the traditional ANSI text
|
||
character based game. You are given a view of your ships cockpit and a view
|
||
out the front window. TW Term also allows for sound support. The visual and
|
||
audio enhancements may be what you need if you are tired of playing just a text
|
||
game.
|
||
|
||
However, along with the graphics and sound you also need more computer then
|
||
you would if you use other utilities. You need a graphics video card (EGA
|
||
minimum, required) and a sound card (optional, but nice to enjoy full feature
|
||
of the program) . It will run on a XT, but with the speed slow down I would
|
||
suggest at least a 16MHz 386. No matter what machine you use, TW Term will
|
||
work with either the new or old version.
|
||
|
||
One of the best beinfits of this program is that you can program your own
|
||
macros to perform functions. If you do something in your TW games that most
|
||
players don't use, then just program it in. This will require greater patience
|
||
than getting all of the function with the program, but it may suit your needs.
|
||
For an additional $5 you can purchase pre-made TW macros from the author.
|
||
|
||
One added benifit of registering this program is that you will recieve a
|
||
complimentary one-year subscription to a TW newsletter. TW Term give you more
|
||
flexibility than TW Help, in that you can program your own macros into the
|
||
program, but when you register TW Help you get most of the macros you could
|
||
ever need with the program.
|
||
|
||
TW View:
|
||
========
|
||
TWVIEW91.ZIP
|
||
Robert Weaver
|
||
Registration Fee: None
|
||
|
||
|
||
TW View is generally viewed as the premier off-line TW utilites. One thing for
|
||
sure is that you can't beat the price. If you are a Turbo Pascal programmer
|
||
then you will definitely want to check this program out since the source code
|
||
is included and you can make you own modifications.
|
||
|
||
Almost all the TW utilities programs give you the ability to make thier data
|
||
TWView compatible and have many of the database functions similar to TWView.
|
||
Most TW utilities try to make their product competitive with and comparable to
|
||
TWView.
|
||
|
||
TWView offers a slew of database functions that allow you to plan out your
|
||
next exploration into space much better. It tells you almost any information
|
||
you may need to deal with building power and resources.
|
||
|
||
If you plan on being a serious player and have a lot of competition in your
|
||
games, you will probably need to get this program to allow you the planning
|
||
edge you need. However, let the beginner beware...TWView is not the easiest
|
||
program to setup and get running. It assumes you have some knowledge of Trade
|
||
Wars and how to use your ships onboard computer. If you have the patience,
|
||
then this program will benefit you.
|
||
|
||
Conclusion:
|
||
|
||
There are many TW utilities available, with these three being the most popular.
|
||
Try them all out and pick your favorite. My personal choice is TWHelp,
|
||
especially for the beginner who values ease of use. However, whichever
|
||
program you chose to use, you will benefit immensely and give yourself the
|
||
competitive advantage you need to become a power player in every game.
|
||
|
||
Happy Trading!
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Lights Out Movie Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ THE SHADOW: Russell Mulcahy, director. David Koepp, ³
|
||
³ screenplay. Starring Alec Baldwin, John Lone, ³
|
||
³ Penelope Ann Miller, Peter Boyle, Ian McKellen, ³
|
||
³ Jonathan Winters, Joseph Maher, John Kapelos, Sab ³
|
||
³ Shimona, and Tim Curry. Universal. Rated PG-13. ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
"The weed of crime bears bitter fruit" is the lesser-known
|
||
quote associated with the radio production of THE SHADOW, and
|
||
it's refreshing to find this attention to detail in this smart-
|
||
looking big screen version of the detective's adventures. I
|
||
listened to six radio episodes (six of the Orson Welles' shows)
|
||
prior to attending the screening for this film, so I'll try not
|
||
to lapse into a "they did this wrong/they did this right" mindset
|
||
for the review. For what it's worth, I *like* what the film-
|
||
makers did with THE SHADOW, even the casting of Alec Baldwin as
|
||
Lamont Cranston, but wasn't left completely satisified. A film
|
||
like this should engage the viewer completely in the experience,
|
||
a "joy ride from hell" feeling, leaving you breathless and woozy
|
||
afterwards. Tim Burton's BATMAN (1989) tried to generate this
|
||
rush of excitement, but failed, for me at least. And while I
|
||
enjoy THE SHADOW more, it still lacks something. Bear with me
|
||
while I try to discover what that "something" is.
|
||
|
||
Expect the inevitable comparisons to BATMAN and THE CROW
|
||
from earlier this year; the film's look is very stylish and goes
|
||
a long way to creating a palpable atmosphere for the detective's
|
||
adventures. The production design reels us in from the start,
|
||
following Cranston's time as an opium lord in China to his study
|
||
with a Tibetan monk in the powers of the mind. But the design
|
||
really kicks it when Cranston, as The Shadow, begins haunting the
|
||
neighborhoods of New York City, hunting down the evil prevalent
|
||
in the late '30s/early '40s of Gotham. Hmm . . . Gotham.
|
||
There's another tie between Batman and The Shadow; New York City
|
||
served as the model for Gotham City (and for Metropolis, as well,
|
||
but that's another hero for another day), just as the pulp hero,
|
||
The Shadow, served as one of the models for the comic book hero,
|
||
Batman. Lamont Cranston, after returning from the Orient and
|
||
turning his back on his evil past, is the archetypical "wealthy
|
||
insomniac playboy," as Baldwin describes The Shadow's alter-ego
|
||
in interviews. Cranston develops "the power to cloud men's
|
||
minds" (and women's, we surmise) from his teacher, effectively
|
||
rendering himself invisible through hypnosis. THE SHADOW
|
||
develops our hero's mental powers further than originally set in
|
||
the radio series and the pulps -- Cranston can now read minds on
|
||
a limited basis and possesses a rudimentary telekinesis. At
|
||
first, the supernatural extravagances annoyed me, but I relaxed
|
||
into them as a natural extension of The Shadow's abilities.
|
||
Other divergences from the established Shadow mythos also irked
|
||
me on the surface (Margot Lane is *not* supposed to be tele-
|
||
pathic, the Commissioner -- originally Weston, not Wainwright --
|
||
is *not* his uncle, and The Shadow worked in concert with the
|
||
police, not outside of their cooperation), but they're such small
|
||
differences (as opposed to the liberties taken with BATMAN) that
|
||
it doesn't really matter. All of these elements, including the
|
||
Doc Savage-like network of associates, featuring Peter Boyle as
|
||
an affable cabbie and Sab Shimona as a scientific advisor, serve
|
||
to enhance The Shadow's aura of power.
|
||
|
||
So, THE SHADOW looks and feels right, but still contains a
|
||
problem at its core. The tension between Cranston and Shiwan
|
||
Khan (John Lone), the last descendant of Genghis Khan, provides
|
||
the action for the film, and their frequent meetings are wonder-
|
||
fully staged, from joking respect for each other's abilities
|
||
(Khan beards Cranston in the hero's hidden headquarters) to the
|
||
effects-filled mental confrontation in the villain's elaborate
|
||
lair. As a side note, the lair includes a tilting floor
|
||
reminiscent of a scene in another pulp hero's big screen excur-
|
||
sion, FLASH GORDON (1978). While Khan presents a powerful force
|
||
for The Shadow and his cohorts to overcome, the supporting
|
||
players in this slightly-campy action drama seems disappointingly
|
||
thin. Margot Lane's (Penelope Ann Miller) instant kinship and
|
||
attraction to Lamont Cranston, and vice versa, is realistically
|
||
portrayed within the confines of this "world"), but Lane lacks
|
||
depth. Cranston himself, aside from his escapades in the Orient,
|
||
lacks a background for the audience to draw on. When the leads
|
||
lack a solid foundation for their characters to stand on, it
|
||
becomes harder for the audience to understand and/or sympathize
|
||
with them. This same thinness haunted BATMAN and to a lesser
|
||
extent, THE CROW, which makes me think that, even though the
|
||
filmmakers may like and respect the characters they adapt for the
|
||
big screen, the fact that they're "comic book" or pulp heros
|
||
means they don't need to be as real as characters in other
|
||
dramas. I have to disagree, and only hope that future films in
|
||
this series (if THE SHADOW hits big, you know a sequel or several
|
||
will follow) will flesh out Cranston, Lane, and the others more
|
||
satisfyingly.
|
||
|
||
There, I told you I'd get at the core of what left me empty
|
||
about THE SHADOW. If such concerns don't bother you, then I can
|
||
recommend this picture to you without reservation. Otherwise,
|
||
consider yourself warned.
|
||
|
||
RATING: $$$
|
||
|
||
|
||
Lights Out Movie Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ BLOWN AWAY: Stephen Hopkins, director. Joe Batteer & ³
|
||
³ John Rice, screenplay. John Rice, Joe Batteer & M. Jay ³
|
||
³ Roach, story. Starring Jeff Bridges, Tommy Lee Jones, ³
|
||
³ Lloyd Bridges, Forest Whitaker, Suzy Amis, John Finn, ³
|
||
³ and Stephi Lineberg. MGM. Rated R. ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
Another mad bomber stalks the streets of America, bent on
|
||
revenge, in BLOWN AWAY, starring Jeff Bridges and Tommy Lee
|
||
Jones. Jones is Ryan Gaerity, an Irish terrorist who pulls an
|
||
ingenious jailbreak at the very beginning of the film. What's
|
||
never clear, as we learn later that he's been in prison for 20
|
||
years, is why he waited so long. The screenplay is filled with
|
||
these inconsistencies, over-intricate bombs, and a huge glaring
|
||
coincidence that all overshadow Jeff Bridges' nicely-constructed
|
||
character, Jimmy Dove, the hot-shot of a Boston Police bomb
|
||
squad. Gaerity turns up in Boston, out of all the places in
|
||
America he could have gone, and discovers that Dove has also
|
||
become a Boston resident. The ham-handed coincidence places
|
||
these men in the same city, sharing a shadowy past from Northern
|
||
Ireland. Once Gaerity makes this discovery, he embarks on a
|
||
revenge plan against Dove: he methodically picks off members of
|
||
the bomb squad in hopes of killing his former terrorist partner.
|
||
|
||
Bridges is in fine form as an action hero, more believable,
|
||
and better-developed as a character, than Keanu Reeves in the
|
||
current blockbuster SPEED. The similarities between the two
|
||
films are striking, especially having been released so close
|
||
together. Unfortunately, BLOWN AWAY suffers by comparison. Even
|
||
though, as I've already pointed out, the characters in this
|
||
picture are more well-defined, the underlying revenge plot is a
|
||
little hard to swallow, as are the elaborate explosive devices.
|
||
As an example, the first bomb, not even set by Gaerity, is rigged
|
||
to a computer. The computer operator has to keep typing or else
|
||
the bomb goes off -- as it's rigged, however, once the hard drive
|
||
fills up, the bomb also explodes. I'll ignore the writing
|
||
directly to the hard drive, byte-by-byte, and just deal with the
|
||
unreality of such a detailed bomb. Sure, we're in a movie and
|
||
the filmmakers are allowed some license with their explosive
|
||
devices, but let's face it, BLOWN AWAY is *not* a James Bond
|
||
flick. Nor is it a straight-ahead, no-holds-barred actioner like
|
||
SPEED. This picture takes time to develop its characters (Lloyd
|
||
Bridges, Jeff's real-life father, has some great scenes as an Old
|
||
World Irishman who advises Jimmy Dove), but the gadgets, imagina-
|
||
tive as they are, rob the characters and the screenplay of any
|
||
semblance to reality. Even the internal reality within its own
|
||
fictional events.
|
||
|
||
Tommy Lee Jones always makes a captivating bad guy, and
|
||
though he's as engaging here as he was in UNDER SIEGE (1992), he
|
||
lacks depth and a believable motivation. Revenge after 20 years
|
||
wears thin, and if Gaerity spent that much time in prison, he
|
||
makes an amazing adjustment to life in the '90s. The only
|
||
concession we get to his isolation is his ignorance of the Irish
|
||
band U2, as though prisons don't have radios. The Rube Goldberg
|
||
device that caps the film's finale doesn't make sense for such a
|
||
practical villain, and neither does the device that endangers one
|
||
of Dove's closest confidantes about 2/3 of the way into the
|
||
picture. Suzy Amis has a nice turn as Bridges' wife, and Forest
|
||
Whitaker is compelling as the cop who takes over Jimmy Dove's
|
||
place on the bomb squad and later discovers the tie between
|
||
Gaerity and Dove. Overall, though, BLOWN AWAY is too muddled and
|
||
gimmicky to really convince.
|
||
|
||
RATING: $$
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Lights Out Movie Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ I LOVE TROUBLE: Charles Shyer, director. Nancy Meyers ³
|
||
³ & Charles Shyer, screenplay. Starring Julia Roberts, ³
|
||
³ Nick Nolte, Saul Rubinek, Robert Loggia, James Rebhorn, ³
|
||
³ Kelly Rutherford, Olympia Dukakis, Marsha Mason, Eugene ³
|
||
³ Levy, Charles Martin Smith, Dan Butler, Paul Gleason, ³
|
||
³ Jane Adams, Lisa Lu, and Nora Dunn. Touchstone. ³
|
||
³ Rated PG. ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
Structured to play like a romantic thriller from the '30s
|
||
and '40s, I LOVE TROUBLE stars Julia Roberts and Nick Nolte as
|
||
rival newspaper reporters in Chicago. Nolte is Peter Brackett,
|
||
an old-hound columnist who gets assigned to a commuter train
|
||
derailing just because he's the only one available. Roberts is
|
||
the young hot-shot Sabrina Peterson, eager to make a name for
|
||
herself in the big city. The beginning stages of their rivalry
|
||
is the most interesting aspect of the story, but after they team
|
||
up to solve the mystery of the crash, the picture heads for a
|
||
head-on collision of its own.
|
||
|
||
Pairing Roberts and Nolte should have made for a better
|
||
movie. Their potential chemistry and natural rivalry (for on
|
||
screen time, if not for the story they're "reporting" on) could
|
||
have made for heady stuff, but Charles Shryer's leaden direction
|
||
and the mickey-mouse script co-written with long-time partner
|
||
Nancy Meyers (mickey-mouse script, Touchstone Pictures, Buena
|
||
Vista distribution, it all adds up to a cheap shot, but what the
|
||
hey) take the focus off the budding relationship and involve us
|
||
in an over-complicated plot that we really don't care about.
|
||
Assigning a columnist and novelist of Brackett's stature to a
|
||
routine train accident is a waste of resources and would result
|
||
in the firing of the paper's editor in any other newspaper-
|
||
centered movie, but Shryer & Meyers stretch their creative
|
||
license just to bring their protagonists together. Somewhere in
|
||
the mess that becomes Brackett's and Peterson's professional
|
||
rivalry is mired a roll of missing microfilm, predictable bad
|
||
guys that are easy to pick out the first time you see them, a
|
||
bovine growth hormone, and a fictional chemical company located
|
||
in Wisconsin. Big business is to blame again (see THE PELICAN
|
||
BRIEF, see THE FUGITIVE), blessed with powers to circumvent the
|
||
law whenever they see fit. Gotta love them conspiracy nuts.
|
||
|
||
I LOVE TROUBLE really is a film that doesn't know what it is
|
||
or where to focus. Boosters would argue that such a criticism
|
||
indicates a multi-layered film (e.g., WOLF, THE CRYING GAME), but
|
||
that contention is not true for the current picture. The story
|
||
wanders all over the map and throws in a couple of red herrings,
|
||
in a plot that crosses the line from romantic comedy to romantic
|
||
thriller to caper comedy and back again, with no thought given to
|
||
consistency. I LOVE TROUBLE is aptly titled, and an sad disap-
|
||
pointment.
|
||
|
||
RATING: $
|
||
|
||
|
||
Book Reviews
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Heather DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
NIGHT RELICS
|
||
James P. Blaylock
|
||
ACE Fantasy
|
||
$18.95 US, $23.75 CAN
|
||
|
||
|
||
James P. Blaylock is the author of such delightful books as "The Paper Grail"
|
||
and "The Last Coin". So, of course, I was very happy when I found that he'd
|
||
come out with a new book. But, about 10 pages into the book, I realized that
|
||
he'd made what I consider to be a tremendous error in judgement - he'd decided
|
||
that, instead of a whimsical fantasy writer, he wanted to write horror. This
|
||
book was one of the most disappointing books I've read this decade. Imagine,
|
||
if you can, the writing style of H.P. Lovecraft combined with the imagination
|
||
for horror of, let's say, Barney the Dinosaur.
|
||
|
||
This is only about a 300 or so page book, but it took me almost a week of
|
||
dedicated trudging to finish it. I don't know if Blaylock just decided that
|
||
horror novels would be more lucrative, or he's just going through a bleak
|
||
period of his life. I do know that, before this novel, I would have bought the
|
||
hardback version of any book he wrote. After this book, I'll read the jacket
|
||
before buying any of his work again.
|
||
|
||
My score (of a possible 10) - 2
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
|
||
ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ "Bringing our software to your home"
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
ßßßßßßÛÛßßßßßßßÛßßßßßßßßßÛÛßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßß
|
||
ÍÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍßÛÛÛßÍÍÍÜÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ
|
||
ÛÛ Û ÛÛÜÜÛÛ (717)325-9481 14.4
|
||
ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß 2 NODES
|
||
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜ Ü Ü ÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜ
|
||
ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛ ÜÛ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÛÛÛÛÜ
|
||
ÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÛÛÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ
|
||
ÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
|
||
ÄÄßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÜÄÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÄÄÄÄÛÛÄÜÜÄÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÛÛÛÛÛÛÄÄÄÛÛÛÜÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÜ ÛÛ
|
||
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛÜÜÜÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÜÛÛÜÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛ ÛÛÜ ÛÛÜÜÜÜ
|
||
ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛ ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß ßÛ ßÛ ßÛ ßÛ ßÛÛÛÛß
|
||
|
||
Prize Vault Lemonade Scramble Dollarmania ANSI Voting Booth
|
||
Studs! Studette BadUser Convince! OnLine!
|
||
GoodUser T&J Lotto T&JStat TJTop30 Environmental QT
|
||
Video Poker Announce Bordello! Money Market Bordello
|
||
T&J Raffle RIP Lemonade AgeCheck Strip Poker RIP Voting Booth
|
||
...and more coming!
|
||
|
||
|
||
Best of STTS Awards
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
In July of 1993, Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine began. It's
|
||
been a dream of publisher Joe DeRouen to start an electronic magazine,
|
||
one he'd managed to put off and ignore for years. Finally, he could
|
||
take it no more. The dream had to be released.
|
||
|
||
Several months after the introduction of Joe's BBS Sunlight Through The
|
||
Shadows, the magazine was born. But what to call it?
|
||
|
||
Several names were suggested. Joe's favorite was "Intergalactic
|
||
Fiction, News, and Review". In fact, the magazine almost went to press
|
||
bearing that title until Bruce Diamond (erstwhile movie reviewer,
|
||
fiction writer, STTS staff member, and friend of Joe's) managed to
|
||
convince him to simply use the name of his BBS instead. Thus, Sunlight
|
||
Through The Shadows International Electronic Magazine was born.
|
||
|
||
Of course, back then it wasn't exactly international. Texas was pretty
|
||
much it's limits. During the course of a year, though, STTS has managed
|
||
to worm it's way into the hearts of over 10,000 readers worldwide in at
|
||
least eight different countries.
|
||
|
||
In it's year-long run, the magazine has managed to bring a few "firsts"
|
||
to the world of on-line publishing. It was the first to offer writers
|
||
honorariums for their work. It was the first to offer yearly cash
|
||
awards for the "best of" prize winners. STTS plans on having many more
|
||
firsts in the months and years to come.
|
||
|
||
This month, STTS Magazine celebrates it's first one-year anniversary.
|
||
To help celebrate, we've picked the best stories, poems, and non-fiction
|
||
pieces (five in each category) of the last year and reprinted them here
|
||
today.
|
||
|
||
The top piece in each category will receive $50.00 (fiction), $25.00
|
||
(non-fiction) and $25.00 (poetry). Everyone else (2nd place through
|
||
5th, and five honorable mentions) will receive certificates of merit
|
||
suitable for framing. Of course, the winner will also receive a
|
||
certificate.
|
||
|
||
Winners were chosen via a anonymous voting process from the members of
|
||
the staff of STTS. Each staff member voted for his or her top stories
|
||
of the last year and each place in the ranks was assigned a point value.
|
||
A "number-one" story got four points, a "number-two" story got three
|
||
points, etc. Everything was tabulated in a very scientific way (Joe and
|
||
his little calculator) and the results were decided just a day before
|
||
publication.
|
||
|
||
Initially, staff members couldn't win the prize. We decided that that
|
||
was silly. A rule was instituted that you couldn't vote for yourself
|
||
but that a staff member *could* win, and that was that. Everything was
|
||
fair, and the votes were ready to be tallied.
|
||
|
||
Thus, the winners. The winners, top four runners-up, and honorable
|
||
mentions are:
|
||
|
||
|
||
Fiction
|
||
-------
|
||
1. The Caravan by A.M.Eckard (Jan 94)
|
||
2. Lifeboat by Robert McKay (Mar 94)
|
||
3. A Chance Meeting in the Park by Joe DeRouen (Feb 94)
|
||
4. A Close Encounter of a Different Kind by Sylvia Ramsey (Feb 94)
|
||
5. The Imp by Ed Davis (Aug 93)
|
||
6. It's All Greek to Uncle Thaddeus by Joe DeRouen (Nov 93)
|
||
7. A Cold Montreal Winter by Daniel Sendecki (Jun 94)
|
||
8. Wally, Beware the Cybermaster by Franchot Lewis (Oct 93)
|
||
9. The Squirrels by L. Shawn Aiken (Dec 93)
|
||
10. Djinn, I Win! by Joe DeRouen (Aug 93)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Non-Fiction
|
||
-----------
|
||
1. [TIE] Michael Elansky: Anarchist? by Gage Steele (Nov 93)
|
||
1. [TIE] Musings by Joe DeRouen (May 94)
|
||
3. If I Had One Wish... by L.J. Herbert (Oct 93)
|
||
4. A Pancea for Cheezy Movies by L. Shawn Aiken (Feb 94)
|
||
5. Halloween: A Prequel by Brigid Childs (Oct 93)
|
||
6. A Plausible Model for Space Combat by Robert McKay (Jan 94)
|
||
7. From the Journals of... (Pt.2) by Gage Steele (Sep 93)
|
||
8. Cancer: Surviving the Fear by Joe DeRouen (Jul 93)
|
||
9. Interview: Dr. Kenneth Matsumura, M.D. by L. Shawn Aiken (Feb 94)
|
||
10. Animal Rights and Wrongs by Kathy Kemper (Mar 94)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Poetry
|
||
------
|
||
1. A Mushroom Dawn by Daniel Sendecki (Apr 94)
|
||
1. Gray House Cat by Jim Reid (Dec 93)
|
||
3. Mi'Lord by Patricia Meeks (Dec 93)
|
||
4. In Time the Heart Will Wander by Tamara (Dec 93)
|
||
5. Touch Me by Patricia Meeks (Sep 93)
|
||
6. The Real Inheritan by Jim Reid (Jan 94)
|
||
7. Bumper Sticker Beliefs by J. Guenther (Apr 94)
|
||
8. Young Man On a Fence, 1967 by Daniel Sendecki (Oct 93)
|
||
9. A Christmas Trilogy by Joe DeRouen (Dec 93)
|
||
10. Mom by David M. Ziegler (May 94)
|
||
|
||
|
||
The winner and the next four runner-ups are featured in this issue of
|
||
STTS. If you're interested in reading any of the other stories,
|
||
articles, or poems, please look for the old issues of the magazine. If
|
||
all else fails, call STTS BBS at 214/620-8793 and download away!
|
||
|
||
A few comments about the voting: Gage Steele's MICHAEL ELANSKY:
|
||
ANARCHIST? and Joe DeRouen's (that's me!) MUSINGS tied for top honours
|
||
in the non-fiction category. We'll split the prize, and my share
|
||
($12.50) will go to the American Cancer Society.
|
||
|
||
Patricia Meeks scored impressive marks as being the only candidate to
|
||
place two entries into the top five. She did this in the poetry
|
||
category, securing both 3rd and 5th place. Another of her poems, THE
|
||
DOVE, while not cracking the top ten, gained quite a few votes. If
|
||
everyone had consolidated their votes for Ms. Meeks into one poem,
|
||
there's a good chance she would have scored the top honour. Likewise,
|
||
Jim Reid placed 2nd and 6th. He, too, came close to the top.
|
||
|
||
In the end, however, Canadian Daniel Sendecki's A MUSHROOM DAWN grabbed
|
||
the top prize. Congratulations, Daniel!
|
||
|
||
A.M.Eckard's THE CARAVAN won the fiction competition hands-down, beating
|
||
out the next closest entry (Robert McKay's LIFEBOAT by just about a
|
||
third more votes. Congratulations A.M., and we'll be expecting more
|
||
great fiction from you in the months to come!
|
||
|
||
All in all, the first year of STTS has been great. We had literally
|
||
hundreds of entries to choose from for the top prizes, and just about
|
||
all of the entries were good enough to win. Our only regret is that we
|
||
can't honour each and every one of the writers who's work has graced the
|
||
electronic pages of STTS.
|
||
|
||
Without the writers, and, just as importantly if not more so, the
|
||
readers, STTS could not be what it is today. We'd like to thank the
|
||
over fifty writers who've appeared in these electronic pages, the
|
||
hundreds of BBS's that carry us, and the over 10,000 readers out there
|
||
for helping to make all this possible. You're the greatest!
|
||
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
July 5th, 1994
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ Winners: Please contact me! If you're in the top ten in any ³
|
||
³ of the categories, I need to get your address so I can send ³
|
||
³ you your awards/certificates. You can reach me through ³
|
||
³ RIME, Pen & Brush Net, WME, the internet ³
|
||
³ (Joe.DeRouen@Chryasalis.ORG) or via my BBS at 214/620-9793. ³
|
||
³ ³
|
||
³ If all else fails, write to me at: Joe DeRouen, 14232 Marsh Ln.³
|
||
³ #51, Dallas Texas, 75244. ³
|
||
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Caravan
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, A.M.Eckard
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Caravan by A.M.Eckard
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
I like the veld. What choice do I have? There is nothing but
|
||
the veld. It is mostly brown with a little green. It smells of
|
||
sage and sand. It is hot in the day and cold at night. The
|
||
lexicon in the Feed calls it the Gaia. The lexicon I got from
|
||
Dad calls it the veld.
|
||
|
||
Dad said I should name things according to the Feed when I'm
|
||
talking to the people of the clans. Since no one will see this,
|
||
I'll call it the veld. That's what Dad always called it before
|
||
he left. Dad showed me how to change the lexicon in the Feed,
|
||
but he said I shouldn't do it. He taught me a lot of neat things
|
||
before he left. I still come across new messages to me in his
|
||
lexicon. He was very good with computers.
|
||
|
||
This is the time of the Winding-Down. That's what both lexicons
|
||
call it. This is the time of desert and wind. This is the time
|
||
of scarcity and drought. This is the time of hunger and thirst.
|
||
The Feed says that this was not always so, but it does not say
|
||
what was before. There's a lot in Dad's lexicon about it, but I
|
||
find it hard to believe. I've thought of editing it out. I don't
|
||
because Dad said that was definitely a bad thing to do.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I spend my time traveling the veld. I scavenge in the veld.
|
||
Collecting and fixing things is my trade. I trade with the
|
||
clans. Dad showed me my JobDesc in the Feed. It said I was a
|
||
fixer. I looked up my JobDesc in Dad's lexicon. That said I was
|
||
a maker. There was an attachment from Dad with it saying I
|
||
should never call myself a maker when I was with the clans. He
|
||
said the clans don't have makers anymore. The clans don't want
|
||
makers.
|
||
|
||
According to Dad's lexicon the clans had traders that did what
|
||
I do. The makers would make, the fixers would fix, and the
|
||
traders would trade. I guess with fewer people there are fewer
|
||
JobDescs. That is all part of the Winding-Down.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
In the veld I have seen the skeletons of many people. There
|
||
were a lot more clans once. They say there were so many clans
|
||
that they lived side-by-side. Things have changed. In my own
|
||
traveling I have seen fewer and fewer clans.
|
||
|
||
The clans don't move around very much. I make my living by
|
||
traveling to them. I bury my needs, take my wares, and join them
|
||
for a day. I trade what I have to trade and fix what needs
|
||
fixing. By nightfall I must leave. That is the clan way. Usually
|
||
I camp nearby. I like watching the clans. I have tools to watch
|
||
them with that are better than their guards. I can spot Rovers
|
||
many klicks away.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I spend most of my time on my own. Before Dad left we stayed
|
||
together most of the time. It was like we were a clan of two. We
|
||
were the only clan of two I have ever seen. Dad said we were a
|
||
family. I really don't know what that means. It's not in either
|
||
of the lexicons.
|
||
|
||
Dad and I would grow our own food and make our own water. Dad
|
||
would visit the clans and trade. I would stay behind and study
|
||
the lexicons. Sometimes we would hunt the Rovers when they got
|
||
too close. Dad said they had their purpose, too, but not too
|
||
close to camp. We would protect the clans from the rovers, too.
|
||
|
||
For a long time Dad wouldn't let me visit the clans. He said
|
||
that it was because I was small and this was the time of the
|
||
Winding-Down. He said the clans wouldn't accept me. I don't
|
||
remember everything he said and the lexicons don't really help
|
||
much.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
There are things in Dad's lexicon that he added. He said he was
|
||
the last one who could work on the lexicon. There are some
|
||
things in Dad's lexicon that don't exist anymore. In the Feed
|
||
they are Deletes. In Dad's lexicon they are Obsoletes. Dad said
|
||
they were important because they didn't exist anymore.
|
||
|
||
The best I can figure is that I was an Obsolete. I was a kinder
|
||
in a time when there were no more kinder. I changed in a time
|
||
when there was no change. I was a begat in a time when there
|
||
were no more begats.
|
||
|
||
Dad said that there was a Golden Age when mankind tried to stop
|
||
change. He said it didn't work and I was part of the proof.
|
||
|
||
I'm not a kinder anymore, so I can visit the clans.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
There is a part of the Feed and Dad's lexicon that are almost
|
||
exactly the same. It concerns the Mystics. It says that after
|
||
the Golden Age comes the Winding-Down. It says that women are
|
||
barren and men are sterile. It says that all the new souls are
|
||
maxed-out. The Bodhis say that no more souls are becoming
|
||
incarnate. The Xians say that Judgment is here. The Pagas say
|
||
that Gaia seeds men no more. It goes on and on. I guess each
|
||
clan has its own way of saying it. But it never really explains
|
||
what it is. It just says that it is the Winding-Down and it
|
||
doesn't sound good. Dad said that it was not strictly true. He
|
||
never said what was strictly true.
|
||
|
||
I talked about it with some of the teachers in the clans. The
|
||
ones that didn't show me the Feed all said something different.
|
||
Some said the Winding-Down was a coming whimper. Some said it
|
||
was a coming roar. Most just changed the subject and told me to
|
||
be out by nightfall.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
Dad taught me studying. He taught me to study the veld. He
|
||
taught me to study the clans. He taught me to study the
|
||
lexicons. He studied with me. He studied me. He never told me
|
||
what he saw. There is a section in his lexicon about me, but it
|
||
is Access Denied. There is an attachment that is only for me. It
|
||
says that I should travel the veld as a fixer. It says that I
|
||
will really know myself by what I do. He said that no one should
|
||
tell me what I am. He said that I should tell them what I am by
|
||
being what I am. Dad spoke that way a lot.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I have encountered more traveling clans. They travel, they
|
||
said, because the Winding-Down was getting faster and faster.
|
||
Some of the clans that didn't travel said that the Winding-Down
|
||
was getting faster and faster because of the traveling clans.
|
||
Sometimes when I would go back to those clans I would find that
|
||
they had picked up and started traveling.
|
||
|
||
The traveling clans were good for business. Traveling always
|
||
makes things break down faster. There was always a need for my
|
||
services. I can always find ways to make something work for
|
||
another day.
|
||
|
||
I came to realize that I no longer had to make my rounds. I
|
||
could travel North and South along the last of the hills. I
|
||
would always come across a clan traveling from East to West. I
|
||
had more work than I needed. Sometimes I would sit in the hills
|
||
for days and watch the clans go by.
|
||
|
||
I spent a long time in the hills. It gave me a feeling of
|
||
peace, so I kept it for a while.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
There came a time when out of the East there raised a cloud of
|
||
dust so large I thought I would finally see a storm. It
|
||
approached very slowly. I used a spy and saw that it was a group
|
||
of people traveling in a line. It was more than a clan. It was a
|
||
clan of clans. It was like nothing that has ever been. Instead
|
||
of camos they traveled with their colors and flags. I moved in
|
||
line with them and waited. Finally they circled in the valley
|
||
and stopped. I went down to them.
|
||
|
||
The guards waved as I approached. I asked them what kind of
|
||
clan they were. They said they were not a clan. They were the
|
||
Caravan. Clans were joining them from far and wide. They said
|
||
they were passing through. They asked me if I would like to come
|
||
along.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
I had never seen anything like the Caravan. There was nothing
|
||
in the lexicons. They spent everything they had on color and
|
||
sound and movement. People were actually dancing. Hawkers sold
|
||
food and it was very cheap. They had a converter and gave water
|
||
away for free. I spent the rest of the first day fixing and
|
||
mixing, in awe of their ways. These were not hoarders. These
|
||
were not scrabblers in the veld. They were just making their way
|
||
through. They were the Caravan.
|
||
|
||
I made three trips to the veld to bury my needs. They just
|
||
laughed and shook their heads at me.
|
||
|
||
I was fixing things that were a delight, but were of no use.
|
||
There were bells on wagon wheels. There were chimes on wagons.
|
||
There were little colored windmills that turned no wheels. There
|
||
were bellows that sounded horns.
|
||
|
||
As the evening approached, I helped to raise great tents and
|
||
small. When the sun touched the hills I cleaned myself off and
|
||
began gathering my things. I would not go far, I thought. I
|
||
might follow this group a while.
|
||
|
||
I was making for the nearest cover when someone asked me if I
|
||
would stay. I just laughed. What else could I do? But they meant
|
||
it. They said that I could stay the night. They would be off in
|
||
the morning and, if I wanted to, I could travel with them. I
|
||
just shook my head no and hurried away. I dug my camp and buried
|
||
my wares and watched them.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The word Carnival was in Dad's lexicon. It seemed to be close
|
||
to what I saw. They danced and played. There were jugglers and
|
||
clowns and acrobats. They cooked food in the open and the smells
|
||
drifted to my camp. They sang and chanted. It went on for hours
|
||
and hours. They burned lights all night long that could be seen
|
||
across the veld. When I grew tired I slept, listening to their
|
||
music.
|
||
|
||
In the morning I helped strike the tents. When the first were
|
||
off I stood aside. They all called me friend although I was a
|
||
member of none of the clans. They said that clans meant nothing
|
||
now. They were members of the Caravan. It was Winding-Down time
|
||
and the clans were gone for them. They asked me if I would come
|
||
along, if only for just a while. I did.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The Caravan traveled and made good time. I helped when things
|
||
needed fixing. Everyone called me friend. They said that I
|
||
should see the Queen at the next halt and join them. Throughout
|
||
the day I considered it. Before this my clan had been only Dad
|
||
and me. Dad had been gone for a long time. I decided I liked the
|
||
idea.
|
||
|
||
As on the previous day, the halt was called in the afternoon.
|
||
The Caravan circled. The tents went up. The fires were lit. The
|
||
music and the play began. I was sent to see the Queen.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The Queen's tent was the largest tent of all. It was decorated
|
||
with the colors of all the clans. Everywhere I looked there were
|
||
the symbols of the clans and the symbols of all the workers. It
|
||
was so fine it made my eyes water.
|
||
|
||
The Queen's consorts were all women. They brought me food and
|
||
water and welcomed me to the Caravan. They brought me a robe of
|
||
Caravan colors and asked me for my sign. I asked them where the
|
||
Caravan was going. They told me it was going to the end.
|
||
|
||
"This is the Caravan," they said. "We are traveling on the
|
||
journey of the Winding-Down and we are traveling to the end."
|
||
|
||
They coached me on the form of my formal petition to the Queen.
|
||
They laughed and joked and said that I was the first clan of one
|
||
to join. Finally they led me to an inner chamber of the tent
|
||
where I was brought before the Queen.
|
||
|
||
She was a handsome woman with hair slightly touched by gray. I
|
||
was taken by her air of knowledge and wisdom. When I looked in
|
||
her eyes I was reminded of dad. There seemed to be a similar
|
||
light of intelligence and humor and sadness. When I found my
|
||
voice I introduced myself to her as her consorts had instructed
|
||
me to.
|
||
|
||
"I have no clan," I said. "I am a helper and a fixer. I would
|
||
be honored if you would allow me to join your Caravan. I will
|
||
offer my services freely, and ask only that my needs be met."
|
||
|
||
It was at this point in my speech that I had been instructed to
|
||
stop. I had been told that the Queen would nod to accept me or
|
||
shake her head. I had been told that she never shook her head. I
|
||
had been told that I should then bow and leave.
|
||
|
||
But I did not. Perhaps it was that she reminded me of Dad.
|
||
Perhaps it was that the Caravan was like nothing I had ever seen
|
||
and I wanted so badly to become a part of it. Perhaps it was the
|
||
curious way she seemed to look into me and see more of me than
|
||
anyone ever had. Whatever the reason, I could not contain myself
|
||
and I continued on.
|
||
|
||
Against my Dad's wishes, I said, "I am a maker. I also can make
|
||
things new."
|
||
|
||
I could hear a few of the consorts gasp. I looked at the shock
|
||
on their faces as they covered their mouths and knew that I had
|
||
made a mistake.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
The Queen stood from her chair and approached me. All eyes were
|
||
upon her as she put her finger to my lips and said "Shhhh." Her
|
||
hand smelled of sage and balsam. To the amazement of myself and
|
||
everyone there, she took my hand and led me into her inner
|
||
chambers.
|
||
|
||
The others were told to remain outside. She lay down on her bed
|
||
and bid me bring a table and chair to her side. Every time I
|
||
tried to speak she would touch my lips. She would shake her head
|
||
with a frown, but her mouth would barely smile. She brought out
|
||
a deck of cards with colors and pictures I'd never seen before.
|
||
There were more than in a deck of chance, she explained.
|
||
|
||
"I fear the others may have been too eager to invite you to
|
||
join our ranks, but we will see," she said. "These are cards of
|
||
old. They were called future cards before the Winding-Down. Now
|
||
they are the cards that guide us on the path to the end. I use
|
||
them to know the way and set our course for each new day. They
|
||
once had another use."
|
||
|
||
She extinguished the lamps and set four candles down, one on
|
||
each corner of the table. The chamber was cool and smelled of
|
||
anise and patchouli. Not a breeze stirred the candle flames as
|
||
they burned.
|
||
|
||
"Come and shuffle the cards as if they were a deck of chance,"
|
||
she said, "then cut them three times to your left."
|
||
|
||
I did as I was told.
|
||
|
||
She spread the cards on the table in a strange pattern and took
|
||
a deep breath. She shook her head, but still smiled at me.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
"Here is the Queen," she said. "I've seen her many times. She
|
||
is my card and she sits before you."
|
||
|
||
"Here is the Mage, though not the one I've known."
|
||
|
||
When she looked at me I thought of Dad, but said nothing. I was
|
||
in awe of her and could not interrupt her words.
|
||
|
||
"Here is the ending," she said, "fruits of the seeds our
|
||
forebears have sown. There is nothing new here. This is the way
|
||
we have come."
|
||
|
||
She paused as she turned the next card, then turned a few more.
|
||
I believe her hand shook a little as she turned the last. Her
|
||
voice had been quiet, but now came even quieter than before.
|
||
|
||
"Here is the maker, and here is the crone. Here is a girl-child
|
||
and here a boy. Here is a birthing and here a joy. And here is a
|
||
soul-star." She started to cry.
|
||
|
||
I tried to speak, but again she silenced me. She sat for a long
|
||
time with her palms together in front of her face. Tears
|
||
streamed from her eyes and she breathed in small gasps. Finally
|
||
she blew out three of the candles and took me to her bed.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
First we made love with a quiet ferocity I had never known.
|
||
Then we were tender and savored the moments that seemed like
|
||
hours. I told her I loved her and I would travel with the
|
||
Caravan forever. She cried then, and shook her head no.
|
||
|
||
"We don't have forever, anymore."
|
||
|
||
She sat before the single candle and spoke, looking older than
|
||
any of the people ever looked.
|
||
|
||
"There were makers and fixers once that worked on people
|
||
instead of things. It was decided that the people would never
|
||
grow old, would never sicken and die. It was decided that
|
||
children would not be born and man and woman would live simply
|
||
with Gaia. The makers and fixers had their way and planned their
|
||
way with Gaia, too. Everything was changed according to a grand
|
||
plan."
|
||
|
||
"But they hadn't planned well. The Gaia cannot be fixed. Man
|
||
cannot be made and fixed. The Winding-Down began."
|
||
|
||
"What kind of man are you, maker? How have you come here?"
|
||
|
||
I told her what Dad had told me. I told her the secret that I
|
||
had been a kinder and I had grown. I told her of Dad's lexicon,
|
||
the lessons he had taught me and the lessons that waited for me
|
||
still.
|
||
|
||
She blew out the last candle, held me close, and told me to
|
||
sleep. It was a long time before I could.
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
In the morning I awoke to the sound of her shuffling the cards.
|
||
When she saw I was awake she called her ladies with a little
|
||
bell and bid them bring me food and water and clothes the colors
|
||
of the Caravan. My heart swelled with hope, but her head shook
|
||
no. She studied the cards while I dressed and ate.
|
||
|
||
"You cannot come with us," she sighed. "We are the Caravan of
|
||
the Winding-Down. You must stay here in the veld and wait.
|
||
Others will come the way we have come. These are the stragglers,
|
||
the lost, the late."
|
||
|
||
"You will show them my sign. They will give you what you need,
|
||
and you will help them with their needs. They will be like us
|
||
and you will show them the way we have gone and send them along."
|
||
|
||
"But what about me?" I asked. "What of this Caravan? What about
|
||
us?"
|
||
|
||
"This is the Winding-Down. Eventually no more will come from
|
||
the East. But you must stay. We are not meant to travel the same
|
||
path."
|
||
|
||
"One day someone will come from the West. Just one, or two, or
|
||
a few. You must wait for that day. They will bring you my sign.
|
||
Then you must make your own way."
|
||
|
||
* * *
|
||
|
||
She turned from me then, and was gone. The camp was struck. I
|
||
watched her Caravan travel out of sight as I have watched
|
||
others. With each that has come and gone I have sent a note:
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Will this be the last time, my love?
|
||
|
||
The crowds depart.
|
||
|
||
All the songs are songs of farewell.
|
||
|
||
Everyone seems to have gathered here to leave.
|
||
|
||
I am a pilgrim in this land
|
||
|
||
and there are things you have not told me;
|
||
|
||
things I should have known.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
It has been a long time now. The pain that I felt on her
|
||
leaving somehow does not hurt as much anymore. Somehow things
|
||
seem to be as they should be. I look to the West and there is
|
||
hope. In Dad's lexicon hope is something that hurts but feels
|
||
good. Hope is something that grows amidst loss.
|
||
|
||
Hope is something I've added to the lexicon of the Feed.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Lifeboat
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Robert McKay
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Lifeboat
|
||
by Robert McKay
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The shuttle lifted off from the surface in the midst of a
|
||
blizzard. The snow whirled about the black craft, nearly hiding it
|
||
from view as the gusts whipped the heavy stuff into frozen fists. To
|
||
depart in such weather was not unusual; on Tush… blizzards happened as
|
||
often as not in winter, and the Kar‡ had long ago learned to construct
|
||
craft and train pilots to handle the stress. Besides, battling a
|
||
blizzard was a joy to a race that delighted in combat - against the
|
||
weather, if nothing else.
|
||
As the shuttle rose, the two occupants eyed each other. One, a
|
||
native of Tush…, was bundled in what was for a Kar‡ heavy clothing -
|
||
over his knee-length vest he had wrapped a heavy cloak that was just
|
||
now beginning to lose its slowly melting shroud of snow. Out of the
|
||
loosened cloak a head reared, ears twitching as they searched for the
|
||
smallest sound. The eyebrows bristled black over deep-set eyes, the
|
||
mouth and nose were blended into a near-muzzle, and the whole was
|
||
clothed in a reddish hair that was very close to being fur. The cloak
|
||
only slightly covered the broad shoulders, and the arms which hung
|
||
loosely across the native's knees were only a little less hairy than
|
||
his head, with strong, big hands at the ends. The legs were much the
|
||
same, with the merest tips of claws showing as they gripped the wet and
|
||
slippery floor. The body, revealed inside the cloak and vest, was
|
||
huge, also covered with a mat of yet thinner hair, and relaxed in a way
|
||
the implied immense physical strength ready to be unleashed.
|
||
The other occupant was quite a contrast. This was a human, his
|
||
head covered with a crop of brown, wavy hair that touched ears and
|
||
collar. The hair on his hands was only about as thick as on the palms
|
||
of his Kar‡ companion, and he was wrapped in pants, boots, shirt, and
|
||
parka. A pair of gloves and a woolen ski cap rested beside him. While
|
||
not small for a human, his six feet and 180 pounds were not impressive
|
||
as he sat in a chair made for a race much larger, and examined the
|
||
specimen of that race with which he happened to share the shuttle.
|
||
The passengers were headed for a Kar‡ vessel outbound to the Outer
|
||
Orbit Station jointly owned and operated by the governments of the
|
||
human Unified System and the native Tush… and the Kar‡ Worlds. This
|
||
station, built at immense expense by the two governments, had been
|
||
designed to facilitate contact between them. While the third treaty
|
||
between the System and the Kar‡ provided for lenient customs and
|
||
immigration policies, it was easier to funnel the traffic through one
|
||
point than through the many that otherwise would have sprung up all
|
||
through the Kar‡ system. And since most of the sentient traffic was,
|
||
thus far at least, from the System to Tush…, it made sense to establish
|
||
the entry port in the Kar‡ solar system.
|
||
The human was the first to break the silence. "Do you speak
|
||
System?" he asked, rather nervously.
|
||
"I speak," was the reply, the guttural Kar‡ accent making his
|
||
voice raspy and deep.
|
||
"That's good," answered the human with a nervous laugh. "I want
|
||
to practice my Kar‡l…, but I need to do it with someone who can correct
|
||
me in my own language."
|
||
"I agree," rumbled the native, throwing his cloak back off his
|
||
shoulders. "You vronounce the language name wrong." He seemed not to
|
||
notice that his language's lack of a P rendered his own System
|
||
pronunciation less than correct. "You say Karkl…. Not so. You should
|
||
say, Kar‡l…," and on the ‡ he rasped down in his throat as if he were
|
||
hawking to spit, prolonging the sound until the human thought the
|
||
alien's throat would burst.
|
||
"I see," was the weak reply. "I never can get that sound right.
|
||
That and your other harsh consonant--"
|
||
"you mean '," and at the ' the Kar‡ produced a shorter rasp.
|
||
"Yes, that one. I can never get them right. System isn't a harsh
|
||
language, and our throats can't take it."
|
||
The Kar‡ nodded. As with all humans who had read of the
|
||
_Jordan_'s voyage into this system, the visitor to the system wondered
|
||
if this gesture had been copied from the battleship's crew, or had
|
||
existed in the native culture before human contact.
|
||
Silence fell for a moment. Then the Kar‡ roused himself and
|
||
displayed his race's remarkable adaptability. The Kar‡ were by nature
|
||
and long experience inclined to treat any stranger as an enemy, yet
|
||
this native conformed to human customs.
|
||
"I not introduce myself yet. Kanjar Digush So*ek."
|
||
"I'm Rindell Wood," replied the human. "Might I ask the meaning
|
||
of your warrior name?"
|
||
"'Claw.' But Digush old. Today only warrior name. Kar‡l… has
|
||
another word for claw in talking."
|
||
Wood knew that some archaic words had retained their meaning, yet
|
||
were only used for "warrior names." The warrior name was the middle
|
||
name taken by a Kar‡ when he had proved himself in combat. Few adults
|
||
were without a warrior name in a culture where the legal age was 15,
|
||
and the only acceptable motive for suicide among the Kar‡ was failure
|
||
to reach adulthood without being able to take such a name.
|
||
The speaker set in the ceiling burst forth in a spate of harsh
|
||
Kar‡l…. Immediately afterward a human voice came over the speaker;
|
||
since the pilot was Kar‡, Wood reasoned that the message must be
|
||
recorded in both languages to accommodate the fairly heavy flow of
|
||
humans to and from Tush…. Obeying the directions given, Wood and
|
||
Digush So*ek secured their belts. A few moments later, they felt power
|
||
go off as the shuttle went into coast mode, and their bodies lightened
|
||
in their seats. Both Kar‡ and humans had developed artificial gravity,
|
||
but few Kar‡ ships kept it on full time. Even in a Kar‡ war ship, it
|
||
had been learned, only the bridge and other areas with critical
|
||
response times maintained a constant normal gravity.
|
||
Looking out the side window by his seat, Wood scanned for the Kar‡
|
||
ship. He didn't really expect to see it; like System Fleet vessels,
|
||
Kar‡ ships of all kinds were painted a flat black that made visual
|
||
detection difficult. A holdover from centuries of nearly-constant war,
|
||
this enabled even merchant ships, which were lightly armed by Kar‡
|
||
standards, to stand a better chance of surviving an interplanetary run.
|
||
Wood was roused from his contemplation of the stars by his fellow
|
||
traveler's grunt. "Why you on Tush…?"
|
||
"I'm on a fact-finding tour for my company. We manufacture
|
||
refrigerated food storage units - reefers, they're called in the System
|
||
- and my company wants to know if there is a market for our product on
|
||
your world. We don't want to put your companies out of business--"
|
||
such an attempt could be dangerous, since the Kar‡ tended to settle
|
||
insults with knife and fang and claw "--but if we can establish
|
||
ourselves as a reliable source of a good product at a reasonable price,
|
||
we'll be happy to set up shop here."
|
||
And now the massive Kar‡ surprised the human. "Today no need
|
||
'reefer,' you think?"
|
||
Looking back toward the planet, or where it would have been had
|
||
not the shuttle's orientation blocked the view, Wood grinned. "No, not
|
||
with that blizzard going. Days like this, you put the meat in the
|
||
reefer to warm it up." He went through the standard joke mechanically;
|
||
inside, his mind was in shock over the sudden eruption of the Kar‡
|
||
sense of humor. Rumor had it back in the System that Ras Tanura, who
|
||
had himself been known for a quirky turn of mind, had been equally
|
||
surprised at how the Kar‡ could suddenly come up with a joke from
|
||
nowhere, seemingly at odds with their fierce culture and menacing
|
||
exterior.
|
||
The shuttle maneuvered, was still, then maneuvered again. The
|
||
speaker blared again, this time warning in the two languages that
|
||
passengers needed to be secured for docking. In spite of this warning,
|
||
the actual docking was only a slight jolt, although in the zero-gee
|
||
environment it might have sent Wood and Digush So*ek floating through
|
||
the cabin. The latches clanged home, another warning came - this time
|
||
alerting passengers to the fact that the ship had its artificial
|
||
gravity engaged, and the access hatch in the nose opened. The control
|
||
cabin was set in a blister on top of the hull, to facilitate passenger
|
||
egress, which was accomplished by moving through the cabin, out through
|
||
the nose of the shuttle, and into the ship.
|
||
A sign painted on the bulkhead just inside the Kar‡ ship's airlock
|
||
in System and Kar‡l… informed boarding passengers that they were now on
|
||
the Tush… Trading Company's cargo ship #473. The Kar‡ never named
|
||
their ships. During their interminable wars they'd learned that
|
||
regarding objects as "he" or "she" and giving them names tended to make
|
||
them too important; while a war ship was certainly of value in space
|
||
combat, it was detrimental to the effort if the crew were so
|
||
emotionally attached to the vessel that they refused to abandon it when
|
||
the situation couldn't be redeemed. While there were few chances to
|
||
leave a ship in space - destruction was usually simultaneous with the
|
||
first serious breach of the shields - when the time came the Kar‡
|
||
didn't want crews remaining behind because they couldn't persuade their
|
||
emotions. Dead warriors don't fight.
|
||
This was a small ship, used for passengers and miscellaneous
|
||
cargo. It was typical of the age-old "tramp" vessel, traveling from
|
||
port to port as the cargo dictated, without a fixed route or schedule.
|
||
A single voyage might see it delivering 20 different kinds of cargo at
|
||
as many different ports, while the larger ships, which were too
|
||
valuable to bother with three cases of paper, handled the bulk cargos
|
||
of the system. Its hull was dented, scratched, and worn from long
|
||
service, and in the brief interval between docking and passing through
|
||
the airlock Wood thought he'd seen repaired battle damage. The
|
||
corridors were, however, brightly lit in Kar‡ fashion, and while the
|
||
whole interior was very plainly a used one, it was also clean to the
|
||
point of being antiseptic. The perpetual animal odor of the Kar‡
|
||
filtered faintly through the air ducts, and assorted bangs, clangs,
|
||
thumps, and hummings worked their way through the ship's fabric as
|
||
cargo was loaded and stowed, gear was secured, and systems were tested.
|
||
Wood found his cabin with relative ease, since directions had been
|
||
posted in System as well as Kar‡l…. In the process he became separated
|
||
from his erstwhile traveling companion, not to his entire distress.
|
||
He'd spent the past three months on Tush…, and by now wasn't
|
||
immediately frightened by the sight of a Kar‡, but at the same time
|
||
they made him uneasy. They seemed entirely too ready to pull a knife
|
||
or extend their claws and do physical damage, and though he hadn't seen
|
||
a single Kar‡ in a bad temper during his visit, he also knew that the
|
||
natives of Tush… and the Kar‡ Worlds put on their best behavior around
|
||
humans, simply to avoid killing their allies. Wood ruefully reflected
|
||
that if such an attitude had prevailed during the many Kar‡ wars, there
|
||
would have been fewer wars.
|
||
^ ^ ^
|
||
Rindell Wood awoke with a loud blaring in his ears. The sound
|
||
must be an alarm - nothing else could possibly justify the atrocious
|
||
noise that assaulted him. But what alarm?
|
||
Wood swung his feet out of the bed and stumbled over to the status
|
||
readout on the wall. Unfortunately, this device did not provide System
|
||
equivalents for the Kar‡ script that flashed on its screen. Wood was
|
||
beginning to think he'd been forgotten, and to wonder what he ought to
|
||
do, when the alarm broke off and a voice began shouting in Kar‡l…. He
|
||
waited while the phrase was repeated three times: "_Drut…*
|
||
har'trulta‡zo!_" Wood puzzled over the meaning of this harsh sentence,
|
||
until a heavily accented Kar‡ voice bellowed the System translation -
|
||
"Abandon ship!"
|
||
The human was galvanized into action. He had unpacked little, and
|
||
it was the work of a mere moment to throw on some clothing, toss the
|
||
few articles he'd taken out back into the suitcase, and heaving the
|
||
case off the bed dash through the door. Glancing hurriedly both ways,
|
||
he saw figures moving in a cross corridor to his right. He ran that
|
||
way, the small suitcase banging against his leg. He skidded into the
|
||
traffic, nearly running into a massive, one-eyed Kar‡.
|
||
The human gasped out one System word. "Lifeboats!"
|
||
The Kar‡ seemed to consider a moment; while most members of his
|
||
race spoke System more or less well, few actually thought in the
|
||
language, and had to laboriously translate back and forth in
|
||
conversation with humans. The blunt finger pointed to Wood's left.
|
||
"Go there. One, two hallway, go right. End of hallway." The native,
|
||
having given these remarkably clear directions, moved on his way, in
|
||
the opposite direction from where he had steered Wood.
|
||
The human, wasting no time, followed the directions he'd been
|
||
given. At the end of the final corridor, he came up against a Kar‡
|
||
with a very recent burn across his chest. The ubiquitous Kar‡ vest was
|
||
lying nearby on the floor; it was burned nearly in two, and Wood
|
||
surmised that this member of the crew had been injured in whatever
|
||
calamity had befallen the ship, and had been stationed here to perform
|
||
a duty that he could do, and needed to be done. Wood again spoke his
|
||
word, "Lifeboats."
|
||
The Kar‡ nodded and pointed, the movement seeming to produce only
|
||
slight pain. Wood knew, however, that the small wince he had observed
|
||
would have been a cry of agony in a human; the skin was blistered and
|
||
cracked, and already clear fluid was seeping out. This Kar‡ would
|
||
quite likely die unless medical attention were soon made available, and
|
||
no matter what was done he would be horribly scarred for the rest of
|
||
his life.
|
||
As he considered these facts, Wood followed the pointing finger
|
||
thorough an airlock. On the far side, he found himself in a small
|
||
craft, with two passenger seats side by side behind what was obviously
|
||
a pilot's seat. In front of the seat a console came to life even as
|
||
Wood entered the craft, with two beeps and various flickerings to
|
||
herald the introduction of power to the circuits.
|
||
A native was already in the pilot's seat, observing readouts and
|
||
flicking switches as he noticed systems coming on line. As Wood threw
|
||
his suitcase in a compartment and fell into a seat, the native turned.
|
||
It was Kanjar Digush So*ek. Nodding to the breathless human, he turned
|
||
to the controls again. He reached to push a button, and the lifeboat
|
||
lurched crazily. For a moment the floor seemed almost to be a wall,
|
||
and Wood felt as though he were falling to his left, towards the port
|
||
bulkhead. Then the perspective righted, but half the displays on the
|
||
control panel were dark again. A rumble rattled Wood's teeth, and the
|
||
Kar‡ growled - making the human think of an angry tiger. He muttered
|
||
something in Kar‡l… that didn't sound pleasant, and smashed his fist
|
||
down on a bright red panel. The plastic shattered, revealing a broad
|
||
flat button of the same vivid red. Again the fist smashed down, and
|
||
the lifeboat jerked forward, the gravity again taking a beating. A
|
||
hatch at the end of what was clearly a launching bay blew off - Wood
|
||
noted with concern that it didn't open - and the lifeboat sped out into
|
||
the vacuum on the breast of an enormous exhalation of frozen
|
||
atmosphere.
|
||
Wood rose from his seat as the motion steadied. He noticed for
|
||
the first time that the hatch through which he'd come was closed and
|
||
sealed; apparently it had done so when Digush So*ek had hit the
|
||
emergency launch button. Wood was just opening his mouth when a great
|
||
flare of white light burst upon the small vessel. Although the
|
||
lifeboat possessed windows only in its bow, and although those windows
|
||
were facing away from the explosion, the brilliant glare still made him
|
||
blink several times to clear his vision again.
|
||
The human moved closer to the half-dead control panel. "What was
|
||
that?" he asked.
|
||
"Anti-matter explosion," growled the Kar‡.
|
||
"I guess we're lucky we got away when we did," returned Wood,
|
||
literally loosening with relief.
|
||
"Not really. Controls dead. Can't maneuver lifeboat. And
|
||
present course far away from planets or trade routes."
|
||
^ ^ ^
|
||
Rindell Wood was totally unprepared for the situation he now
|
||
faced. In all his life he'd never had to deal with ships blowing up
|
||
very nearly around him, or the necessity of survival in a lifeboat so
|
||
damaged by the death spasms of its mother ship that it was
|
||
unmaneuverable and heading away from where it needed to be.
|
||
Nevertheless he maintained at least the facade of calm.
|
||
"What happened to the ship?" he asked, after sitting rather
|
||
abruptly upon hearing the unwelcome news of his predicament.
|
||
"Don't know for sure. I just passenger. But something made
|
||
matter and antimatter bunkers lose integrity. After that - no hope for
|
||
ship." The Kar‡ was still running through a checklist - at least it
|
||
appeared to be such - trying out one system after another, ascertaining
|
||
just what did and did not function aboard the lifeboat. He did not
|
||
slacken his activity for Wood's questions.
|
||
"So what do we do now?" continued the human, a little fright
|
||
creeping into his voice now.
|
||
"We do everything we can," growled the Kar‡. Under his breath he
|
||
muttered, "_Muvat_," which Wood recognized as the native word for
|
||
"idiot."
|
||
Stung by the insult to his intelligence, and provoked beyond his
|
||
normal respect for Kar‡ power and ferocity, Wood rose and shrieked at
|
||
Digush So*ek. "What gives you the right to call me an idiot?"
|
||
Now the tigerish Kar‡ stopped his work, half turning in his seat.
|
||
Even seated, his head was on a level with Wood's; not only were Kar‡
|
||
taller than humans, but their seats were higher to accommodate their
|
||
great size. "I call you truth, _vurm…stha_." This was merely the
|
||
generic word for alien, which had gained a specific use in referring to
|
||
humans. "Anyone with brain understand we have to do everything we
|
||
can."
|
||
The shaking human came to a screeching mental halt. It was true
|
||
that all efforts toward attracting rescue or, if possible, turning
|
||
toward help, had to be made. And it was also true that antagonizing
|
||
this big native could result in fewer to be rescued when and if the
|
||
time came.
|
||
Sitting back down, Wood collected his thoughts, which were
|
||
becoming increasingly chaotic as the shock of the ship's sudden
|
||
destruction wore off and the impact became correspondingly more vivid.
|
||
He spoke again, shakily this time. "You'll have to forgive me, Digush
|
||
So*ek. We humans often react irrationally in the first moments of
|
||
reaction after intense excitement. And I've never gone through
|
||
anything like this before."
|
||
The Kar‡ grunted, once again flipping switches and pushing
|
||
buttons. Wood watched in fascination as the massive hands punched and
|
||
flicked with surprising precision. He noted that on occasion, to make
|
||
it easier to hit the right switch or button with a wide, blunt finger,
|
||
a claw would emerge partway and the needle-point would make the actual
|
||
contact. Looking at a test panel on the bulkhead to his left, Wood saw
|
||
the pinprick marks left by other claws used in just such a fashion.
|
||
Finally Digush So*ek cleared his screen, the lines of Kar‡ script,
|
||
which reminded Wood of native American petroglyphs in some ways,
|
||
disappearing and the screen going to a faintly glowing orange. The
|
||
Kar‡ swiveled his seat around, staring at the human.
|
||
Wood cleared his throat. "What's our situation?"
|
||
"Unh." Digush So*ek sat a moment longer, his eyes withdrawn,
|
||
apparently considering. "Main power good. Life support good. Food
|
||
supply good. Maneuvering power 50 percent, maneuvering hardware
|
||
completely destroyed. Emergency beacon damaged, power 63 percent. Not
|
||
good."
|
||
"What can we do?" asked Wood, his new-found calm withering under
|
||
this blunt recital.
|
||
"I don't know," rumbled the other.
|
||
"You don't know!" Wood's calm was gone again. He rose from his
|
||
seat, although he took care to make no threatening moves toward the
|
||
Kar‡. "You're supposed to know how to run this boat! You're the
|
||
native here! You're supposed to know what to do!"
|
||
Digush So*ek shook his head, puzzled. "I will do everything I
|
||
can. This is combat, human. You don't think I give up, do you?"
|
||
Wood stopped in mid-breath. No, he didn't think the Kar‡ would
|
||
give up. He'd never even heard of a Kar‡ willingly surrendering; whole
|
||
formations had been slaughtered in Kar‡ wars rather than surrender, and
|
||
on an individual basis the natives were equally tenacious. Again
|
||
forcing calm, he said, "No, I guess not. But I'm lost here. I've got
|
||
to depend on you for my own survival. And to hear that you don't know
|
||
what to do isn't exactly reassuring."
|
||
"Not meant to be," the Kar‡ ground out in disgust. "I tell
|
||
truth. If you don't like truth, I can't help it. I don't like truth
|
||
either, but I don't hide it."
|
||
"All right," said Wood, throwing up his hands. "Enough with the
|
||
lecture already. What can we start trying to do?"
|
||
"We try to repair maneuvering hardware."
|
||
"But you just said it's been destroyed."
|
||
"I know what I said," Digush So*ek roared. "I no need lesson from
|
||
you! _Nuf vurm…sthadul sejtar'lo‡ har'vr•kela‡ vrel mirtest!_"
|
||
Wood couldn't translate the last sentence; he knew only that it
|
||
was a question, from the interrogatory _nuf_ began it; that it had
|
||
something to do with humans, for he recognized the word _vurm…stha_
|
||
with the plural suffix -_dul_ attached; and that it was not a pleased
|
||
question, for the tone was clearly exasperated. As with all questions
|
||
in Kar‡l…, it would have sounded like any other exclamation without the
|
||
interrogatory that invariably introduced queries. With these
|
||
ruminations in his head, Wood retreated to his seat again, determined
|
||
to keep out of the way of the Kar‡. His attempts to carry on a
|
||
conversation were only maddening the native, and given Digush So*ek's
|
||
size, strength, and quick temper, the human didn't care to get involved
|
||
in a slugging match. Although the Kar‡ rarely punched - why use a
|
||
fist, when claws were so much more damaging?
|
||
As Wood watched, the native left the control console and stomped
|
||
toward the rear of the lifeboat. Kneeling near the rear bulkhead, he
|
||
snatched at two rings lying in recesses in the deck. Jerking on the
|
||
rings, he lifted a plate from the deck and slung it, crashing, to lean
|
||
against the wall. He reached out with his left hand and smacked a
|
||
control on the rear wall - light sprang up from the opening disclosed
|
||
by the removal of the deck plate. Whirling on his knees, Digush So*ek
|
||
inserted his feet in the opening and flung himself down. He
|
||
disappeared from sight with a resounding thump of heavy feet on another
|
||
deck below.
|
||
Wood, curious, padded toward the hole in the deck. Looking down,
|
||
he saw a typical equipment room - no esthetic concessions, but a lot of
|
||
controls packed into a little space. There was a ladder leading down
|
||
to the lower deck, designed for the longer Kar‡ legs. Negotiating it
|
||
with some difficulty, Wood descended; he suddenly preferred the company
|
||
of an angry Kar‡ to being alone in the main cabin.
|
||
Here in the equipment space the air was chill; the environmental
|
||
controls compensated for the heat produced by electric components and
|
||
abhorred by computer equipment. The lighting was bare fluorescent.
|
||
Unadorned metal abounded, studded with switches, dials, panels, and
|
||
what appeared to be black box modules. Digush So*ek was working in the
|
||
forward part of the space, a subdued growling testifying to the fact
|
||
that his temper was still up.
|
||
Wood advanced cautiously. He knew the Kar‡ could hear him with
|
||
ease - indeed, had probably followed his progress across the floor
|
||
above and down the hatch. But he figured that if he took it easy, he
|
||
might be able to at least see what was happening without further
|
||
arousing the ferocious native.
|
||
As Wood got to where he could look over Digush So*ek's shoulder,
|
||
the Kar‡ slammed down a tool and grabbed hold of some sort of black
|
||
box. His massive right shoulder bunched, and he ripped the box out by
|
||
main strength and flung it against the wall. The box shattered as it
|
||
hit, plastic shards spraying around and barely missing the two forms at
|
||
the forward bulkhead. Still unappeased, the Kar‡'s bare hands fastened
|
||
on a metal edge and the native heaved back. With a faint screech of
|
||
metal, the flange straightened, the steel bending as if it had been
|
||
handled by machine. Moving with incredible swiftness, the Kar‡
|
||
snatched open a cabinet door, jerked another, newer, black box out, and
|
||
rammed it home in the offending slot, the corrected flange giving no
|
||
further trouble. Wood had heard of the extraordinary strength and
|
||
speed of a Kar‡ in an adrenaline-fueled rage, and had doubted the
|
||
veracity of the reporters. Now he was prepared to credit anything.
|
||
Digush So*ek's hand smashed down near Wood's feet, the fingers
|
||
closing around the tool he had hurled away moments before. Thrusting
|
||
it at the new black box, he performed some sort of operation that to
|
||
the human resembled a cross between tightening screws and chiseling
|
||
metal. Whatever the work being done, it took only a few seconds, and
|
||
then the Kar‡ punched a button.
|
||
Above the black box, a light glowed green - bad in this case,
|
||
since Kar‡ culture used green for "no go" and white for "go." The
|
||
native, enraged beyond all previous anger, cocked his hand, claws
|
||
extended and fingers rigidly arched, at the offending panel. But he
|
||
did not strike, instead forcing his fist closed and, with a quick rise
|
||
and turn, smashing it into the starboard bulkhead. The wall boomed,
|
||
and incredibly a dent appeared where the Kar‡'s hairy hand struck.
|
||
As with humans, the pain appeared to clear Digush So*ek's head.
|
||
He flexed his hand, seeming to find no serious damage from what would
|
||
have shattered a human fist, and glared at Wood with less anger than
|
||
had been the case just moments before. He had not recovered from his
|
||
emotional turmoil enough, however, to remember to speak in System; what
|
||
he said was, "_*u mirtest sutak har'zŠtale‡i kla‡ har'yult…rnati_."
|
||
Seeing Wood's blank look, the native shook his head, and spoke again.
|
||
"This stupid thing no work."
|
||
"What is it?" Wood asked cautiously.
|
||
"Guidance module for maneuvering hardware. Module no work."
|
||
"Why not?"
|
||
"Don't know. Even if hardware completely destroyed, module should
|
||
work."
|
||
"Maybe," suggested Wood, "something's wrong with the wiring that
|
||
connects the module with the engines."
|
||
"Unh." The Kar‡ thought for a moment. "I no can fix electric
|
||
problem. I not electrician. Maybe problem in hardware." He turned,
|
||
brushing past Wood to the port bulkhead. As he reached it he snarled
|
||
in what sounded like frustration, and returning to his scattered tools,
|
||
snatched one from the floor. Back at the bulkhead, he applied the tool
|
||
to the four corners of a cover plate, and when the fastenings were
|
||
loosened jerked the cover off and let it clang to the floor.
|
||
Wood came up behind the Kar‡, and peering under instead of over
|
||
the great shoulder, watched at the massive hands poked at buttons and
|
||
the slitted eyes studied readouts. Several lights were white, but none
|
||
of them were connected in any obvious way with the buttons Digush So*ek
|
||
was working. A growl rose from the Kar‡'s throat, and he slammed his
|
||
palm into the wall beside the uncovered panel.
|
||
Wood backed off to what seemed a safer distance. "What's the
|
||
matter?" he asked, without confidence in the native's ability to come
|
||
up with a pleasing answer.
|
||
"All connections to engines from here severed. Only way to access
|
||
them is by hand."
|
||
"And how can you do that?"
|
||
"Go outside, open hull inspection plate, work from there."
|
||
"And . . .?"
|
||
"No vacuum suit."
|
||
Wood was stunned. Surely, he thought, a race as used to war as
|
||
the Kar‡ would know how to prepare for emergencies. He couldn't
|
||
believe that there were no pressure suits on the lifeboat.
|
||
The Kar‡ turned and looked at his companion, a fierce glow dying
|
||
out in his eyes. "Usually suits available in lifeboat. But not this
|
||
one. I see maintenance crew doing checklist on suits last night. Not
|
||
yet replaced when ship destroyed."
|
||
The human stepped to a wall and leaned against it, stunned. As
|
||
the impact of this news penetrated, Wood's legs weakened, and he sank
|
||
to the floor. The cold steel penetrated his pants, but he didn't
|
||
notice. All he could think of was the fact that he was stuck on a
|
||
damaged lifeboat with an angry, seven-foot tall approximation of a
|
||
tiger turned sentient, and without any way of performing the necessary
|
||
work to see if the boat could even be repaired.
|
||
Wood was dimly aware of Digush So*ek striding past and climbing
|
||
lithely up the ladder. He sat for minutes - he didn't know exactly how
|
||
many - surrendered to despair. He could see no way out. Even if he
|
||
had possessed the necessary engineering skills, he could never work in
|
||
a suit designed for the Kar‡, and there were no suits anyway. The only
|
||
question was whether the two unwilling companions would die of
|
||
starvation first, or asphyxiation as the life support system lost its
|
||
ability to reclaim oxygen.
|
||
Finally Wood rose from the floor. Looking around rather blankly,
|
||
he recollected that Digush So*ek had returned to the cabin. Shuffling
|
||
to the ladder, the human worked his way slowly up the widely spaced
|
||
rungs and onto the carpeted main deck. The warmer air recalled him a
|
||
little more to reality, and he stood with a semblance of his usual
|
||
vigor.
|
||
The Kar‡ was seated in the pilot's seat, forearms resting on the
|
||
darkened control panel and eyes staring out at the stars. The system's
|
||
sun was somewhere behind them - Wood didn't know exactly where - and
|
||
with its glare blocked out by the hull of the lifeboat the stars looked
|
||
like diamond chips spangled on the darkest velvet. Red, blue, yellow,
|
||
white - even one green star were visible. The colors were undimmed and
|
||
the sharpness was unsoftened by atmosphere.
|
||
Wood flopped into his seat, muscles slack with letdown. Any fear
|
||
of Digush So*ek was drained from him, driven out by the greater fear of
|
||
death, and the despair of life that followed that. He thought that
|
||
even if the Kar‡ killed him, it wouldn't be a thing to worry about;
|
||
death would come one way or another no matter what.
|
||
Digush So*ek turned, his ears pricked. Wood apathetically
|
||
remembered that this was a sign of interest among the Kar‡. "I have
|
||
idea," declared the native, rising from his seat. Wood watched as he
|
||
strode to the open hatch and dropped down into it again.
|
||
The human turned his gaze to the stars again. There was no
|
||
apparent motion; the lifeboat was on a steady course, and at sublight
|
||
speeds it took generations for any appreciable change in the stars'
|
||
positions to occur. Wood was no philosopher, but he dimly recognized
|
||
that the stars, in their permanence, would be there unchanged long
|
||
after he was gone, and was made uneasy by the realization.
|
||
Rising from his seat, Wood walked slowly to the hatch. Listening,
|
||
he heard the bangings and scrapings of a Kar‡ at work. And then he
|
||
heard a sound he couldn't place at first, and then couldn't understand
|
||
- the noise of a power saw cutting metal.
|
||
Scrambling down the ladder, Wood saw the Kar‡ on his knees, the
|
||
portable tool grasped in his hands. He was cutting through the
|
||
deckplates, for what reason the human couldn't fathom. The blade
|
||
screeked through the steel of the deck, metal dust and sparks flying.
|
||
Although the sparks landed in Digush So*ek's fur as often as not, he
|
||
seemed not to notice, and no fire broke out.
|
||
Finally a square about four feet each way was nearly severed.
|
||
Digush So*ek tossed the saw against the wall and grabbed a metal bar.
|
||
Inserting the bar in the aperture made by the saw, he pried the flap of
|
||
deck up a few inches, enough to get his hands under it. Wrapping his
|
||
palms in some sort of stiff cloth for protection, the Kar‡ stood on the
|
||
attached side of the metal, bent down and grabbed the other edge, and
|
||
heaved. The steel resisted at first, then came up with a scream of
|
||
bending metal.
|
||
After a moment the newly-formed lid was bent back almost to the
|
||
deck. Digush So*ek knelt down again, his eyes glittering with the new
|
||
rush of adrenaline the activity was providing. Wood, for lack of
|
||
anything better to do, wandered over and stood looking down into the
|
||
space revealed by the lifted flap.
|
||
The space was crammed with gear the human couldn't even guess at
|
||
the purpose of. Perhaps an engineer could have figured out what that
|
||
item resembling a discus did, or why three black wires emanated from an
|
||
assembly that looked like an angel food cake pan, but he hadn't a clue.
|
||
The Kar‡, on the other hand, appeared to have some inkling of what he
|
||
was doing, for he poked and prodded at various bits of equipment,
|
||
wiggling wires and in one case smacking a cubical metal casing with the
|
||
edge of his hand.
|
||
Wood cleared his throat. "What are you doing?" he asked, without
|
||
a whole lot of real interest.
|
||
"I can't get to inspection hatch. So I make hole in deck and try
|
||
this way. But I don't know if I can reach proper things from here."
|
||
"So we're still stuck here." The prospect, having already
|
||
terrified Wood beyond fear, didn't seem to affect him further.
|
||
"Yes," ground out the native, his frustration rising quickly to
|
||
the surface again. He slammed his fist against the same piece of
|
||
equipment he'd already struck once, and it shifted out of position a
|
||
bit.
|
||
Wood got down on his own knees and peered into the cramped space.
|
||
"It looks like maybe I could crawl around in there," he muttered
|
||
without any real anticipation of doing so.
|
||
"Unh." Digush So*ek seemed to like that noncommittal sound. He
|
||
lay prone, sending his eyes around the space. "Pretty small."
|
||
"Yeah," replied the human, his faint interest fading already.
|
||
"Well, we tried," he added, rising.
|
||
The Kar‡ rose quickly beside him. "This is chance to try again."
|
||
Wood didn't get it. "But we already tried. We can't fix the
|
||
engines."
|
||
"No," growled Digush So*ek. "You say you maybe fit inside. We
|
||
try again."
|
||
"Look," burst out the human, his frustration, fear, apathy, and
|
||
shock suddenly combining into one irrational burst of anger, "we're
|
||
stuck! We're going to die out here! There just isn't anything we can
|
||
do, don't you see that?"
|
||
"We try again," stubbornly repeated the Kar‡.
|
||
"No!" shouted Wood. "_You_ can try it, but I won't, and _we_
|
||
won't!" Digush So*ek rose to his feet, Wood following him. "We try
|
||
again, vurm…stha. You don't like it, I don't care. But we try again."
|
||
"No!" screamed the human, despair rendering him incapable of
|
||
coherent thought or speech. He bunched his fist and swung at the Kar‡,
|
||
and Digush So*ek, taken completely by surprise, was unable to block the
|
||
blow. His reaction was quick, however; he swung a backhanded blow that
|
||
sent Wood flying the length of the chill compartment to smack into the
|
||
rear bulkhead.
|
||
Wood lay glassy-eyed on the floor. The Kar‡ advanced on the balls
|
||
of his feet, the extended claws clicking and scraping on the metal
|
||
deck. His fingers were hooked, and the wicked talons were fully
|
||
exposed. Wood, faintly terrified at this approaching fiend, scrambled
|
||
to his feet up the ladder, which he had just missed in his involuntary
|
||
flight. He fled to the farthest point from the open hatch, and fell
|
||
shaking into the pilot's seat.
|
||
Digush So*ek emerged from the hatch a moment later. But his eyes
|
||
didn't blaze with their former fire, and as he clambered to the main
|
||
deck and walked forward Wood could see that the Kar‡'s claws were once
|
||
again retracted. He seemed bewildered as he asked, "_Nuf sejvr•kela‡
|
||
le‡ vurm…sthadul roge* grati‡lodul_."
|
||
Again Wood only recognized the sentence as a question because of
|
||
the interrogatory _nuf_ which introduced it; Kar‡l… inflection didn't
|
||
help in telling questions from statements. He stared blankly at Digush
|
||
So*ek, and the native realized that once again he'd spoken without
|
||
thinking in his mother tongue.
|
||
"Are all humans such cowards?" the Kar‡ asked again, this time in
|
||
System.
|
||
"Cowards?" repeated Wood.
|
||
"Yes." The Kar‡ sat in the chair that Wood had been using. "You
|
||
give up easy."
|
||
"It's not cowardice to recognize the hopelessness of a situation.
|
||
It's just common sense. When you're beaten, why keep on fighting?"
|
||
"I not beaten," declared the Kar‡, his fangs showing. "I not
|
||
beaten until I dead."
|
||
"But that's just it," responded the human. "We are dead, our
|
||
bodies just don't know enough to quit working. There's no way we can
|
||
survive without food and water, and this lifeboat is too badly damaged
|
||
to get us to safety."
|
||
"That's why I want to fix lifeboat," said Digush So*ek. "If we
|
||
fix, maybe we make to safety."
|
||
"Don't you get it?" asked Wood, his earlier anger fizzled out in
|
||
the depression that was more strongly than ever claiming him. "We
|
||
can't fix the thing. It's worthless. We're stuck out here. We can't
|
||
get at the hardware to perform the necessary repairs, and anyway you
|
||
said earlier that they're beyond fixing."
|
||
"Instruments say that. I try anyway. Maybe I find way to fix."
|
||
"Are you an engineer?" Wood asked.
|
||
"No. I warrior. I fight."
|
||
"Then you can't fix the engines. You've tinkered around and
|
||
you've tried this and that, and I respect your guts and ingenuity. But
|
||
you can't fix the engines. You might as well accept that."
|
||
Digush So*ek shook his head. "I accept my responsibility to
|
||
fight."
|
||
"Fight?" asked Wood. "But why? What is there to gain?"
|
||
"Don't know all. But some I know. One thing, I don't fight, I
|
||
coward. I run away from challenge, I give up, I no have courage.
|
||
Another thing, I fight, maybe I fix engines after all; for sure, I
|
||
don't fight, I no fix engines. Another thing, I fight, maybe I find
|
||
way to prolong survival. And if we live long enough, maybe rescue ship
|
||
find us. And last thing, I fight, I know I do my best, no matter what
|
||
happens. But I don't fight, I quit without doing my best."
|
||
Wood shook his own head. He'd seen from the outside the
|
||
differences between human culture and Kar‡ ways, but this gave him, for
|
||
the first time, some sort of real understanding. He, as a human,
|
||
reacted with a mixture of irrational emotionalism and quite logical
|
||
fatalism. He first panicked, inside at least even if he didn't show it
|
||
outwardly, and then, when the adrenaline rush of the terror had
|
||
subsided, resigned himself to the fate that was made inevitable by his
|
||
inability to do anything about his situation.
|
||
But the Kar‡ refused to give in to either panic or despair. If
|
||
Digush So*ek felt any fear, it didn't show. He grew angry at each new
|
||
frustration - angry enough to destroy offending components, dent a
|
||
steel bulkhead with his fist, and smack Wood across the room with a
|
||
rather indifferent backhand. His temper warmed and cooled by turns,
|
||
but anger was the only emotional reaction he displayed; fear and
|
||
resignation were foreign to his nature.
|
||
Fired by this realization, Wood began to rethink his decision to
|
||
surrender to hopelessness. So what if they died anyway? Why not do
|
||
doing something useful? What did death mean, if it came to an
|
||
apathetic lump whimpering in a corner? Surely for his death to have
|
||
meaning, it must come when he was striving with all his strength to
|
||
stave it off.
|
||
The human raised his head and look at his alien companion. "Okay,
|
||
let's try. It can't hurt, after all, and like I said, I just may be
|
||
able to crawl around down there."
|
||
Digush So*ek nodded sharply and rose from his seat. Wood stood
|
||
and followed the Kar‡ down the ladder and across the cold deck to the
|
||
crude hatch. As they stood by the opening in the steel plating, Digush
|
||
So*ek thought aloud, as much for Wood's benefit as for his own. I say
|
||
before, maneuvering hardware destroyed. We no can replace all; no have
|
||
components, and some is outside hull. But maybe we can replace some
|
||
important components, and repair some others.
|
||
"We have to do this way. First, you go down hole. Then I hand
|
||
down things you probably need. Then you move toward hardware area,
|
||
taking tools and parts with you. Not easy, but only way."
|
||
"Yes." Wood was musing. "Is all the stuff I'll have to work on
|
||
in the same place?"
|
||
"Yes, mostly. We do that first. If we can fix, then we go to
|
||
two, three other things. If no can fix, no use trying other things."
|
||
"True." Wood found a clear spot on the deck of the equipment
|
||
space and dropped through the hole. Standing now on what was actually
|
||
the skin of the vessel - though well insulated and very strong - Wood
|
||
found the actual deck hit him just below the waist. Careful to avoid
|
||
the sharp, jagged edges of the hole, he crouched, then lay on his side
|
||
in the equipment space. He could see that while thee was plenty of
|
||
distance between what would soon become his floor and ceiling, much of
|
||
the space was crammed with equipment and conduits that filled the space
|
||
with blockages and created narrow holes. It would be difficult to get
|
||
anywhere without having to haul anything with him.
|
||
Looking up, Wood saw that Digush So*ek had already created a
|
||
small pile of gear by the edge of the hole. Reaching up a hand as he
|
||
lay on his side, Wood began transferring the pile down to his level.
|
||
The tool box was heavy; the Kar‡, with their more powerful muscles, had
|
||
never worried much about the weight of their tools, which tended to be
|
||
made of solid steel.
|
||
^ ^ ^
|
||
After two hours crammed into the confined space, Wood was a mass
|
||
of aches and cramps. As he worked the screws out of the brackets that
|
||
held a burned out module to the deck, his hand shook with fatigue and
|
||
his legs quivered in pain. Only the knowledge of death in space kept
|
||
him in the cramped equipment space; that, and the realization that he
|
||
might not be able to get out in his condition before his conscience
|
||
drove him back to work.
|
||
The last screw finally came out, and the module slid easily out of
|
||
its slot. The replacement slid in just as easily, and Wood began the
|
||
torturous task of replacing the screws. He didn't try to make them as
|
||
tight as he had found them; the goal just now was a jury-rigged repair,
|
||
not professional quality work. If everything worked, thee wouldn't be
|
||
time enough for loose screws to be a problem, and if they did cause
|
||
trouble, he could retighten them later.
|
||
With the screws in place, Wood looked down at his pile, only to
|
||
find that there was nothing in it but tools and ruined and replaced
|
||
parts. He gazed dumbly at the mess for a moment, unable to grasp the
|
||
meaning. Then, raising his voice to carry up through the hole in the
|
||
deck above, he shouted, "Try the engines!"
|
||
Without waiting for an acknowledgment, he began working himself
|
||
around to crawl back out. It was difficult, for the space had never
|
||
been meant for occupancy, but he made it. Shoving the toolbox ahead of
|
||
him, he began his painful progress toward the make-shift hatch.
|
||
Crawling over boxes that held electrical components, squeezing through
|
||
gaps between equipment or holes where conduits met, he scraped more
|
||
skin and broke out into a fresh sweat, in spite of the chill air that
|
||
poured down from above. It took him 15 minutes to reach the hole and
|
||
pull himself into a sitting position.
|
||
He glanced toward the ladder at the rear of the space. Digush
|
||
So*ek stood there, his fangs bared in the wide, fearsome Kar‡ smile.
|
||
Wood felt his pulse quicken. "You're not smiling because I failed."
|
||
"No. Not perfect, but we can move. I turn around already. We
|
||
headed for Tush…. Soon we be in shipping lanes. Even if maneuvering
|
||
hardware fails again, we no die. Soon ship will find us."
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Chance Meeting in the Park
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Chance Meeting in the Park
|
||
by Joe DeRouen
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Sam fed the pigeons every day, without fail. Today was no
|
||
exception. The sun shone down through the trees in accompaniment to the
|
||
warm gentle breeze of summer, but all Sam noticed were the pigeons.
|
||
A large stone dolphin spat water into the sky, some of it splashing
|
||
out of the fountain onto the grass surrounding it. None of it mattered
|
||
to Sam. He continued to feed the birds, the world around him but a
|
||
foggy, meaningless haze.
|
||
At least until SHE came into view. She sat on the park bench across
|
||
from Sam, reading Newsweek magazine. She crossed her long legs and Sam
|
||
could almost hear the rustle of silk underthings. Her tight red dress
|
||
clung to her like a hungry pigeon to popcorn, and her long, delicate red
|
||
hair brushed across her face in the wind. Cool eyes of blue gazed out,
|
||
taking in her surroundings. She couldn't be a day over thirty. Her skin
|
||
was a light creamy peach, unblemished by the ravages of the world.
|
||
A moment later, her surveillance finished, she went back to the magazine.
|
||
|
||
Sam was forty. He'd been married once, but his wife had left him
|
||
some ten years earlier. He'd been BORING, she said. She'd wanted
|
||
adventure, and Sam couldn't give her that. Good old Sam, she'd said.
|
||
Good old Sam was good for sitting around the house, going to church on
|
||
Sundays, taking in a movie now and then. She'd wanted something more, so
|
||
she'd left.
|
||
He'd dated sporadically since then, though no one ever really
|
||
piqued his interest. He'd had his career, and that was that. He'd been
|
||
at Miller Accounting firm for nearly twenty years, and had managed to
|
||
rise to assistant manager. He didn't need a woman.
|
||
Didn't need a woman? Who was he trying to fool? He'd managed to
|
||
fool himself for years, but deep inside he knew he didn't want to be
|
||
alone.
|
||
|
||
She turned her head away from the magazine, laughing as a pigeon
|
||
pecked Sam's grey loafers as if to say "Hey, we're hungry!" Politely
|
||
ignoring the moment's indiscretion, she went back to her magazine.
|
||
|
||
Sam tossed a bit of seed to the pigeon, enough to get it to give up
|
||
it's assault on his feet. Sam's hair was turning grey, almost matching
|
||
his loafers. He was getting old. He really wasn't happy at Miller
|
||
Accounting, but what else did he have? He didn't have a wife, and he
|
||
probably never would. Certainly no one would ever go out with HIM.
|
||
Definitely no one like the lady in the red dress across from him. He
|
||
couldn't help his gaze as it wandered to her, caressing her form like
|
||
the gentle rays of the sun touching the morning dew.
|
||
|
||
He could imagine how she saw him: old, out of shape, short brown
|
||
hair starting to grey, his lusterless blue eyes paling in comparison to
|
||
her own. Why, she probably wouldn't have noticed him at all were it not
|
||
for that hungry pigeon.
|
||
If he asked her out (now THERE was a laugh!) he'd get turned down
|
||
flat. He imagined it would go something like this . . .
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Er . . . excuse me, ma'am. I couldn't help noticing you, and . . ."
|
||
"Yes?"
|
||
"Er.. It's awfully nice weather we're having today, isn't it?" Sam
|
||
shuffled his feet, feeling more nervous than he had in years.
|
||
"I suppose it is. Did you need something, mister?" The woman in red
|
||
asked, looking annoyed.
|
||
"Well, as a matter of fact yes. Do you come here often? I've been
|
||
in this park every day for over ten years, and I've never seen
|
||
you here before."
|
||
"Look, mister - If you need something, ask it. I'm on my lunch
|
||
break, and I haven't got long. I have to be back to the office in about
|
||
fifteen minutes, and I really want to get a start on this new Dean
|
||
Koontz novel. Do you need something or not?" She gazed cooly up at him,
|
||
icy eyes with a hint of danger.
|
||
"Well . . . Would you like to go out sometime?" He asked in a rush,
|
||
the words coming out between ragged breaths.
|
||
"With YOU?" The woman laughed, then turned her attention to her
|
||
novel.
|
||
|
||
|
||
And that's where the fantasy ended. At that point, she'd laugh,
|
||
rise to her feet, and stalk out of his life forever.
|
||
If there was even a chance she'd say yes, he might do it. Might
|
||
actually ask her out. There wasn't a point to doing something that would
|
||
only cause you heartache, was there?
|
||
|
||
His thoughts were interrupted by her movements. She folded the
|
||
Newsweek magazine into her purse, stretching languidly across the green
|
||
metal park bench. Soaking in the sun's warm breath, she sighed, smiling
|
||
up to the sky. Reaching in her purse, she pulled a shiny-covered
|
||
paperback book out. Dean Koontz's TWILIGHT'S LAST GLEAMING.
|
||
|
||
Sam's mouth dropped in shock. He couldn't be psychic, could he? He
|
||
didn't believe in that sort of thing. She must have had the book out
|
||
before, and his subconscious had picked up on it and used it in his
|
||
fantasy. Makes sense.
|
||
He was spending far more time than he should thinking about this
|
||
woman. He'd have to get back to the office soon himself, and why ponder
|
||
over what you can't have? Besides, even if she DID agree to go out with
|
||
him - and that would never happen - he'd find some way to bungle it up.
|
||
His thoughts seemed to lose focus, as he fantasized about how his dream
|
||
date might go . . .
|
||
|
||
|
||
"I'm glad you agreed to go out with me, Kelly. I've been going to
|
||
this restaurant for years, and they serve the best pasta I've ever
|
||
eaten."
|
||
"I'll do anything once, I suppose." Kelly yawned, surveying the
|
||
restaurant. It was dimly lit, and looked as if it hadn't changed in the
|
||
last ten years. She instantly hated the place.
|
||
"Umm . . . Well, would you like to order now?"
|
||
"We might as well. I have to wash my hair tonight, so let's order
|
||
something quick."
|
||
"The linguini in red clam sauce is really great!" Intoned Sam, with
|
||
an exuberance he didn't feel. This wasn't going at all well.
|
||
"Well . . . Great. I'll have that, then."
|
||
"Would you like some wine? This red wine is delicious." Maybe this
|
||
was going somewhere after all. Maybe the wine would relax her. He tried
|
||
to steady his shaking hands as he began to fill her glass.
|
||
"Sure, I'd love some . . ." She smiled for the first time at Sam.
|
||
The wine sloshed over the edge of the glass as Sam's attention
|
||
wavered to her smile.
|
||
"Oops!" He yelled, loud enough to draw the attention of half the
|
||
room. "Let me . . ." Reaching for a napkin, he managed to knock the full
|
||
glass of red wine into her lap.
|
||
"Eeek!" She screamed, leaping to her feet. "All over my new silk
|
||
dress! dammit, I KNEW I shouldn't have come!"
|
||
|
||
|
||
Yes, he'd bungle it up for sure. There was no doubt in his mind.
|
||
He hadn't been on a date in longer than he could remember. Why, he'd
|
||
probably forgotten how! If it wasn't the wine, he'd say something wrong
|
||
or forget to hold her chair for her, or something.
|
||
|
||
The rest of the world lost to the novel, her eyes danced through
|
||
the pages as Sam's eyes once again fell upon hers. She shifted in the
|
||
bench, as if sensing her admirer's gaze. Her black leather purse tumbled
|
||
from her lap to the ground below, revealing gold-embossed initials: KM.
|
||
In one swift motion, the purse was recovered and she was once again
|
||
buried in Koontz's prose.
|
||
|
||
Sam's eyes popped out of his head. KM? Her name was Kelly in his
|
||
fantasy. He couldn't have seen the purse; the initials had been facing
|
||
away from him. He shook himself, as if to force some sense back into his
|
||
tired frame. His imagination was working overtime. He must have seen the
|
||
purse after all, or just had a lucky guess. Besides, even if he WAS
|
||
blessed with a premonition of some sort, what did it matter? The
|
||
premonition was bad. His fantasies ended up with him wearing a liberal
|
||
amount of egg on his face. What good was that?
|
||
|
||
She placed the book face down on the bench, then rose to her
|
||
feet. Stretching, her form pushed fully against the confines of her
|
||
dress. Her black pumps showed off her well-developed calf muscles, as
|
||
she smiled into the distance. Taking a deep breath, she found the bench
|
||
again and went back to her book.
|
||
|
||
Sam's eyes caressed her body longingly. She was the most
|
||
beautiful woman he'd ever seen, even more so than his ex-wife.
|
||
Almost imperceptibly, his surroundings once again seemed to fall away
|
||
and his mind was elsewhere . . .
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Kelly, will you marry me?"
|
||
"Sam . . ." She looked away from his eyes, focusing on a point
|
||
beyond him.
|
||
They'd been dating for two years. He'd asked her out and she'd
|
||
actually gone, and, even more amazing, enjoyed herself. They'd continued
|
||
to date off and on, never committing, but growing closer.
|
||
"Kelly, I love you."
|
||
"You know, that's the first time you've said that."
|
||
"Well, I DO. I've loved you since I first saw you. You are my
|
||
heart." He started to cry, swept away by the emotions he felt inside
|
||
him.
|
||
"Why did you take so long to tell me?" She found his eyes,
|
||
reaching out to touch his cheek. "I knew you cared for me. Dating anyone
|
||
this long has to mean something. But you've only kissed me a handful of
|
||
times. You've never come into my house. You've never made love to me."
|
||
"Kelly!" Sam blurted, looking away. "I've wanted to, lord knows
|
||
I've wanted to. Kelly, I've been so scared. I didn't want to scare you
|
||
off. I didn't want to lose you like I lost Sara . . ."
|
||
"I'm not her! I'm me, dammit! Never once have you held me, never
|
||
once have you taken me away for the weekend. Two years, Sam! I kept
|
||
waiting for you to do something - anything! - but you wouldn't."
|
||
"I was scared!" His tears fell freely now. "You're so beautiful. I
|
||
wanted you so much, I was afraid I'd lose you. That day I met you in the
|
||
park, I was terrified to ask you out. I managed to do that, somehow, but
|
||
I've been scared ever since. It took me so long to find you, I didn't
|
||
want to lose you."
|
||
"Sam . . ." Tears came to her eyes. "Sam, if you'd only said
|
||
something sooner. All this time . . . I've loved you, I've wanted you to
|
||
love me. You wouldn't even commit to dating exclusive."
|
||
"I haven't dated anyone." He said stiffly. "I've never looked at
|
||
another woman since I met you. I haven't wanted to."
|
||
"Why didn't you SAY something, Sam?"
|
||
"Kelly . . . If you don't want to marry me, we can wait. We'll
|
||
take it slow . . ."
|
||
"Sam, there's someone else. I didn't want to wait! He asked me to
|
||
marry him. Yes, Sam, he ASKED. And I accepted! That's why I asked you to
|
||
meet me here. To tell you."
|
||
He felt as though his heart had just died. "It's Gary, from your
|
||
office. Isn't it? I knew he had his eye on you . . ."
|
||
|
||
The world seemed to snap back in place, and Sam was on the park
|
||
bench again, pigeons all around him. The fountain was pumping water into
|
||
the air, creating little rainbows in the sun. Kelly - No, he reminded
|
||
himself, the woman in red - was still reading. His thoughts were his own
|
||
again.
|
||
"Kelly!" Shouted a thirtysomething man in a grey pinstriped
|
||
business suit, about thirty feet from the center of the park. His blonde
|
||
wavy hair didn't blow in the wind, as he walked briskly towards the
|
||
woman in red.
|
||
|
||
Kelly? His thoughts raced, his heart pounded. The world around
|
||
him seemed to come into focus, defining, gaining a crystal clear edge.
|
||
The fog was gone, replaced by a sharp awareness. He felt his muscles act
|
||
of their own accord, as he rose from his bench.
|
||
|
||
"Hey, Gary." She called, a voice so sweet it sent chills through
|
||
Sam's soul. "How was the business trip?"
|
||
|
||
He'd lost so much already. Sam stepped away from his bench, as
|
||
thoughts and images raced through his mind. Thoughts of his wife
|
||
pleading with him, of a childhood lost, years at a dead end job. Chances
|
||
not lost, but never taken. Decisions sidestepped in favor of fear. In an
|
||
instant, he made a decision.
|
||
|
||
"Kelly?" Asked Gary, nearly upon them. "I was wondering,
|
||
if you're not busy . . ."
|
||
|
||
"Excuse me." Smiled Sam, quickly putting himself between Kelly
|
||
and her advancing officemate. "Kelly, could we . . . talk?"
|
||
|
||
"Sam?" She asked, finding his eyes. She smiled.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Close Encounter of a Different Kind
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Sylvia L. Ramsey
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Close Encounter of a Different Kind
|
||
|
||
by Sylvia L. Ramsey
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
You hear stories about people having encounters during the
|
||
nighttime with strange flying objects. These people tell how
|
||
overwhelmed they were by the experience. I can't say that
|
||
this story has anything quite so glamorous as UFO's; but,
|
||
sometimes things happen that are very much a part of our very
|
||
own world that are just as overwhelming as visitors from
|
||
outer space. This is a true story and none of the names have
|
||
been changed to protect the innocent or the guilty.
|
||
|
||
If you are going to fully understand and appreciate this
|
||
strange encounter that happened in our present day advanced
|
||
technological society, a little background is needed. There
|
||
are still places (a few sprinkled here and there) in our
|
||
country that have retained all the flavor of an age many have
|
||
never experienced. I often feel like a time traveler in
|
||
today's society because of my background.
|
||
|
||
I'm not "old" (however, my granddaughter may disagree) and
|
||
many of the people my age never experienced the same world as
|
||
I. I guess you might say I'm an oddball in my own
|
||
generation. The reasons for it were quite beyond my control.
|
||
My parents were married for twenty-two years before I was
|
||
born (and I was the first and last)! Talk about a generation
|
||
gap, it was like being raised by grandparents! Now, I marvel
|
||
at all the things my father experienced throughout his
|
||
lifetime and taught me. Imagine being born in the late
|
||
1800's and living until 1986. Think of all the things that
|
||
man created during that time that has become part of our
|
||
daily lives. When I do, it almost boggles my mind. Anyway,
|
||
you get the picture of my parents. The next image you need
|
||
to set the scene for this encounter is where it happened.
|
||
|
||
Imagine a small, quaint house resting, nestled among the pine
|
||
of a secluded valley in the foothills of the Ozarks. It's a
|
||
simple house, not designed by a architect or built by a
|
||
contractor; but, the trees for the lumber were cut, the
|
||
boards were sawed, and it was built with the owner's hands.
|
||
It began its humble life as a home with only one room without
|
||
windows or doors in November of 1932. The spot it sat on was
|
||
carved out of the wilderness far from roads or neighbors. It
|
||
was a symbol of hope and faith for a future during the dreary
|
||
days of the depression.
|
||
|
||
It was built by two young people who believed in themselves
|
||
and each other. People who had traveled and explored their
|
||
world for the first ten years of marriage. They had seen the
|
||
world and decided it was time to return to the place they had
|
||
known as children, settle down, and begin to invest in their
|
||
future. They had accumulated very little material
|
||
possessions during their days of exploration. They began
|
||
their new adventure with very few of the things we take for
|
||
granted in today's world. But, they believed enough in
|
||
themselves to start building a house and begin a new business
|
||
when their world was in a state of darkness. The dreary days
|
||
of the depression ended. The house grew room by room and the
|
||
business grew to be a very successful one. The two were
|
||
happy and content; but, eventually the two young people
|
||
became three. This was when I enter their lives, just when
|
||
they had grown accustomed to being a couple without children.
|
||
|
||
My father always wanted a son; but, that was not in his
|
||
future, he got me instead. However, I may as well have been
|
||
a boy while I was growing up. I became the son he had always
|
||
wanted, and I was his buddy. Instead, he taught me all the
|
||
things he had hoped to teach to a son. He knew the forest
|
||
and the land, and he taught me what he knew. We fished the
|
||
numerous streams located near our home, hunted together, and
|
||
did what most father's and sons usually do. My father taught
|
||
me to respect the land, and its creatures. He taught me to
|
||
hunt for food and not kill for the sake of killing. He
|
||
taught me to "see", "hear", and appreciate the beauty that
|
||
surrounded me.
|
||
|
||
My father saw a day coming when a haven such as ours would be
|
||
as valued as a rich man's mansion. He chose to preserve a
|
||
small area of his land as a refuge for his family and all the
|
||
living things that depended on just such a refuge. This
|
||
place would be a legacy to his grandchildren and his great-
|
||
grandchildren. They would be able to know a little part of
|
||
the world that existed when he was young.
|
||
|
||
I inherited this small mecca and I have made sure that his
|
||
wishes have been carried out. It will go to my son and then
|
||
to my eldest granddaughter. It has been a haven for us to
|
||
escape the fast paced world we live in today. A few years
|
||
ago, when my husband became disabled, we lived in the house
|
||
for about six years.
|
||
|
||
The back of the house faces a small brook with a hillside
|
||
full of pine, maple, wild cherry and dogwood trees. My
|
||
husband loved the outdoors; but, because of his illness was
|
||
limited in how much he could get out. We decided to build a
|
||
screened in porch on the back of the house so he be outside
|
||
during the daytime when I was at work. The back porch became
|
||
a place to spend the early evenings. We would watch the
|
||
little valley change from a bright cheery haven to a
|
||
mysterious realm of sight and sound as the shades of dusk
|
||
encircled it in its arms. We soon discovered that the back
|
||
porch was a place for a variety of activities. We enjoyed it
|
||
so much we decided it was a good place for our exercise bike.
|
||
|
||
|
||
It wasn't long before we, also, discovered that the hillside
|
||
in front of us was a source of entertainment. Almost every
|
||
evening we watched deer casually stroll across the hillside
|
||
as they nibbled at tender leaves and grass. Sometimes there
|
||
would be four or five deer together. On other evenings, wild
|
||
turkey would be spotted. It seemed as if our little valley
|
||
had become a refuge for a variety of wild animals that were
|
||
being pushed out by the growing population that had cleared
|
||
away the forest that has once covered the area. The presence
|
||
of all the animals prompted us to put grain and other treats
|
||
out for them to eat.
|
||
|
||
The next summer, we began to notice that the wildlife
|
||
population was increasing in number and variety. The animals
|
||
quickly learned they had nothing to fear from the two humans
|
||
who shared their sanctuary, and they began to visit our
|
||
backyard. We were invaded by deer, turkey, opossum, wild
|
||
duck, and a variety of other animals and birds.
|
||
|
||
We took the invasion in stride, enjoying the chance to
|
||
observe all the wild creatures. However, one morning after I
|
||
arose from my bed and took my morning coffee to the back
|
||
porch to enjoy the sights and sounds, I walked into a
|
||
disaster area. Something, or someone, had invaded our back
|
||
porch and played havoc with everything. It had been
|
||
vandalized. I disposed of the things that had been destroyed
|
||
and straightened the rest. I couldn't imagine who or what
|
||
had committed the dreadful deed. The next morning, the porch
|
||
was in the same condition. I cleaned it up again. This
|
||
became a pattern, and needless to say, I was beginning to get
|
||
tired of it. There wasn't a lock on the door to the porch;
|
||
but, the door had to be opened to get in. Who or what was
|
||
doing it was a puzzle. The first time it happened, I could
|
||
believe it to be the results of a prank; but, not every
|
||
night! It had to be an animal.
|
||
|
||
How an animal could open the back door and come in, I didn't
|
||
know. My husband and I became determined to find out. We
|
||
began our quest by leaving the porch light on at night. It
|
||
didn't help. Whatever was getting on the porch wasn't afraid
|
||
of it and the destruction continued. We decided to set guard
|
||
and solve the mystery.
|
||
|
||
One evening, after we had grown too tired to watch the porch
|
||
anymore, my husband thought he heard a noise. He got out of
|
||
bed and very carefully went to the door that led to the
|
||
porch. He was gone only a few seconds when he returned and
|
||
motioned for me to accompany him. I started to ask why; but,
|
||
he shushed me to silence. We tiptoed together like cat
|
||
burglars as we made our way to the back door. We very
|
||
carefully peeped out. I couldn't believe my eyes! I saw one
|
||
of the strangest and most amusing sights I had ever
|
||
witnessed. Sitting on the seat of the exercise bike with
|
||
paws on the handlebars was a raccoon that looked big enough
|
||
to be a small bear. He wasn't only nice and fat, he was
|
||
long. He had to be large to reach the handle bars of that
|
||
bicycle.
|
||
|
||
The raccoon looked as if he were contemplating how to reach
|
||
the pedals so he could ride it. We simply stood frozen,
|
||
staring in amazement. Then, the humor of the sight began to
|
||
take hold of us. He didn't see us watching him until we
|
||
began to shake with silent laughter that was about to erupt
|
||
into loud guffaws. When he realized that he was not only
|
||
being watched by two strange creatures who were obviously
|
||
laughing at him, he calmly, arrogantly, climbed down off the
|
||
bicycle. He took his time as he sauntered to the door. He
|
||
walked with a haughty air seeming to be aware that his
|
||
privacy had not only been invaded; but, he appeared to be
|
||
insulted by the behavior of the two creatures who were so
|
||
rudely laughing at him. Once out the door, he paused, looked
|
||
back at us as if to let us know what he thought, and slowly
|
||
disappeared into the darkness. By this time, my husband and
|
||
I were reduced to tears of laughter.
|
||
|
||
|
||
For some strange reason, I was fascinated with this bold
|
||
creature and became obsessed with the idea of seeing him
|
||
again. So, for several nights after the event, I sat on
|
||
the bench in our back yard, located just outside the porch
|
||
door, and watched for the raccoon to return. I just knew he
|
||
would be back and I was going to make sure I saw him. I had
|
||
no idea what I was going to do when I did, I hadn't thought
|
||
beyond just seeing him again. Three nights passed and there
|
||
was no sign of the creature. I was beginning to think our
|
||
laughter had either scared him off for good, or, had insulted
|
||
his sense of dignity far too much for him to chance a return.
|
||
|
||
But, I didn't give up. Finally, my vigil was rewarded. One
|
||
evening as I sat quietly watching, I caught a glimpse of
|
||
something moving in the shadows off to my far left. I knew
|
||
instinctively that it was the same raccoon. He didn't look
|
||
nearly as large in the shadows as he had that evening he was
|
||
on our porch. I waited patiently, watching the small figure
|
||
circle around until he was directly in front of me and was
|
||
only about fifteen feet away. I watched as he checked out an
|
||
old trash can we kept to use when we cleaned out our car. It
|
||
didn't take him long to decide that he would find nothing to
|
||
eat in the can. He turned and began walking straight toward
|
||
the door of our back porch . . . and . . . me.
|
||
|
||
I sat still, frozen by fascination combined with a growing
|
||
sense of apprehension that began to overtake me. All the
|
||
things my father had taught me about the dangers of wild
|
||
animals came flooding back into my consciousness. I had time
|
||
to move, to run; but, I didn't. My obsession to observe this
|
||
creature overrode all caution and I sat like a statue where I
|
||
was, tempting fate. The animal kept advancing closer and
|
||
closer. The tension and the thrill I felt grew with each
|
||
step he took toward me. I was beginning to feel a need to
|
||
bolt for cover. He was no more than five feet away, it
|
||
seemed like two. He stopped. He raised his head, our eyes
|
||
locked for a moment. Then, he slowly, very deliberately
|
||
walked directly at me as he maintained eye contact. The
|
||
tension within me was growing with each step he took. He
|
||
began to look bigger and bigger the nearer he came. I felt I
|
||
could stand the tension no longer as he moved within no more
|
||
than three feet of where I sat. I felt the urge to move, to
|
||
speak, to do something. Again, the need to watch this
|
||
fascinating creature kept me from running or yelling. I had
|
||
to watch him. I didn't want to scare him away, so, to
|
||
relieve some of the tension, I merely changed the position of
|
||
my feet.
|
||
|
||
My movement, caused the raccoon to come to a sudden halt. By
|
||
the time he stopped, he was close enough that I could have
|
||
reached out and touch him. He stood up on his hind legs and
|
||
looked me straight in the eye. Standing, he was nose to nose
|
||
with me. He looked bigger than ever. I became the object of
|
||
observation as he tilted his head side to side looking me
|
||
over. There was look in his eyes telling me that he was
|
||
planning to analyze this strange creature at an even closer
|
||
distance. I had no idea what he might do if he got closer.
|
||
I thought about us laughing at him and thinking he may want
|
||
revenge. As he stood there in the soft light I could almost
|
||
hear him thinking. I observed a change of expression in his
|
||
eyes from one of curiosity to one of determination. I didn't
|
||
know what he was going to do, and I didn't want to find out.
|
||
The hairs on the back of my neck were tingling as fear began
|
||
to creep over me.
|
||
|
||
The fear grew and the knowledge that I didn't want the
|
||
raccoon any closer overwhelmed me. I wasn't sure what to do.
|
||
If I were attacked, my husband would never hear because he
|
||
was watching the ballgame on the television. Visions of
|
||
a headline in our local paper flashed across my mind, "Local
|
||
Woman Attacked by Large Raccoon." Still, I didn't run or
|
||
yell. Instead, I did one of the craziest things I have ever
|
||
done in my life, I addressed the raccoon as if he were a
|
||
person and said, "Hello, there! What are you doing?"
|
||
|
||
Again, he looked into my eyes, turned his head this way and
|
||
that as if he were trying to understand my words. For a
|
||
moment, I thought he was going to come at me and my body
|
||
stiffened again. Instead, he lowered himself on all fours,
|
||
slowly turned his back to me, and majestically strolled into
|
||
the night without ever looking back. In my mind, I could
|
||
almost hear him chuckle. The raccoon had gotten his revenge.
|
||
|
||
I waited and watched several nights after our encounter for
|
||
him to return. He never did. I think he had experienced all
|
||
the contact with humans that he ever wanted. I still wonder
|
||
what would have happened if I could have remained still and
|
||
quiet. I guess I'll never know; but, it's an experience I'll
|
||
never forget, and somehow, I don't think he will either.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Imp
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Ed Davis
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"She did it again, Sir."
|
||
"Which she, Fred. We have a rather large selection of shes around
|
||
here. And what did she do?"
|
||
"The Imp, sir. She snuck out again, with that last group."
|
||
"Good Lord!"
|
||
"He's here, sir. In Emergency Receiving. A bus load of Seventh Day
|
||
Adventist's missed a curve. Seems there were several decks of playing
|
||
cards, two very raunchy books and a fifth of scotch whiskey in the
|
||
luggage. Some of the folks wanted assurance that they had passed
|
||
through the correct gates."
|
||
The tall man ran his fingers through his wavy blonde hair and
|
||
smiled. "Boys will be boys. At least they weren't Church of God.
|
||
They would have insisted on sending the poor man elsewhere."
|
||
"It seems the luggage belonged to one of the women, sir."
|
||
"Well... I hope he's not too rough on her. He's begun to let all
|
||
the things people say about him go to his head. But then, he's young.
|
||
Maybe I'll send him back again. He could stand a bit more humility.
|
||
Do we have an opening in Watts, or Iran, or Lebanon?"
|
||
"Certainly, sir. New born or fully developed?"
|
||
"Neither, right now. But if he keeps getting a big head..."
|
||
"Yes, sir."
|
||
"In a woman's bag, you say?"
|
||
"Yes, sir."
|
||
The amused smile faded and was replaced with a more pensive look.
|
||
Fred could see that The Boss, as everyone called Him, was still
|
||
thinking about the Imp. She had done this sort of thing before and had
|
||
generated all sorts of disruptions. She had caused friction between a
|
||
king and his most trusted knight, led an army into battle, and
|
||
generally raised hob with carefully laid plans for thousands of years.
|
||
Now, in her fully actualized state, there was no telling what trouble
|
||
she would get into. Fred sat quietly, fully expecting one of the rages
|
||
that make oceans dry up and continents vanish.
|
||
The Boss frowned once and turned to leave. "She certainly is living
|
||
up to her name. This must be her ninth or tenth trip this millennia."
|
||
The frown evaporated and the world was spared.
|
||
"Did anyone get wind of her intentions before she left?"
|
||
"Her roommate said she was talking about kicking butts and taking
|
||
names, what ever that means."
|
||
"She's been reading those shoot-em-up police stories again. Well...
|
||
Don't we have a group who need a strong lesson in morality?"
|
||
"Yes, sir. We have what is called The United States of America.
|
||
They have slipped a little, here lately."
|
||
"Well, let her get settled, and remind me in a while. Maybe I can
|
||
nudge her in their direction. She takes instructions rather poorly."
|
||
"How long, before I remind you, sir?"
|
||
"Oh... a year will do. She'll be acclimated by then. What does
|
||
she look like, this time?"
|
||
"Her roommate said she was a twenty year old female, and what they
|
||
presently call a fox. In my day it was a flapper. Strange isn't it
|
||
sir, how they use such unusual names to signify beauty?"
|
||
"Just a phase, Fred. Just a phase. You certainly didn't look like
|
||
anything that flapped."
|
||
Fred flushed slightly, recalling his last trip. He had always
|
||
thought he had been a Hot Mama or at least a Tootsie. Oh well, if he
|
||
just hadn't gotten involved with that bunch of ruffians he might still
|
||
be there. Not to worry, he chided himself. You can go back, someday.
|
||
Fred ended his remembrances when The Boss turned again to leave. He
|
||
stopped at the entrance to the Dispatch and Acceptance area and
|
||
addressed the chief dispatcher again.
|
||
"Keep me posted, Fred. We don't need her shot full of holes like
|
||
you were."
|
||
Fred blushed furiously. "Only one hole, sir." He was very
|
||
sensitive about the way he had returned.
|
||
"Yes, Fred. But what good is a beautiful young woman with a big
|
||
bullet hole in her tit? You really need to be more careful."
|
||
Fred nodded. He had been so ashamed of his wounded body he had
|
||
asked for and received a complete change. The other body had been left
|
||
behind. Ashes to ashes... Fred mused.
|
||
He watched as The Boss left the area, but failed to see the
|
||
transition from handsome blonde man to rotund, dark skinned man with a
|
||
nose to rival Jimmy Durante's. The Boss took the corridor leading to
|
||
the Jewish pavilion. He didn't mind changing forms, and thankfully
|
||
these were not Orthodox Jews. Then, He would have had to put up with
|
||
an itchy beard and one of those scratchy black suits. The many
|
||
faces... and all that.
|
||
Fred was amazed as usual with The Boss's ability to juggle thousands
|
||
of problems at the same time. He had a feeling, however, that this
|
||
most recent expedition of the Imp's would try even His patience. He
|
||
returned to his work, managing the incoming and outgoing souls. The
|
||
pages of the thick book of records turned easily at his mental command.
|
||
Fred smiled his pleasure with the new system. Turning pages by hand
|
||
became a real strain after two or three hundred years. The only thing
|
||
better would require occasional service, and IBM was still only world
|
||
wide. Something for the future.
|
||
|
||
Darkness greeted The Imp. The sliver of moon did nothing to
|
||
brighten the velvet blackness of the western Maryland forest. She knew
|
||
she was standing less than a hundred yards from a major highway but was
|
||
hidden from any passing motorists. Wouldn't do, she grinned, to drop
|
||
in on these folks suddenly. They tended to group such arrivals under
|
||
the broad umbrella of Visitors From Outer Space. She smiled and
|
||
brushed a few autumn leaves from her short, auburn hair. She was
|
||
impatient to begin and strode purposefully toward the highway.
|
||
Baltimore was waiting, two hundred miles to the east.
|
||
|
||
Ronald Hall, one of the few remaining independent truckers after the
|
||
most recent round of fuel cost increases, eased his big Kenworth into a
|
||
lower gear and sat back in his seat for the slow descent of the long
|
||
grade. He didn't mind complying with the Maryland law requiring slow
|
||
speeds on mountain slopes. He had no urge to ride a sixty thousand
|
||
pound roller coaster down an eight mile plunge to disaster. He liked
|
||
living too much. His constant concern was the rising cost of fuel. He
|
||
was slowly being forced out of the trucking business. His wife,
|
||
Jennette, held a steady job and they made ends meet. They both enjoyed
|
||
the times they had together, but both wished they could travel together
|
||
all the time. Their children were grown and they had planned a life of
|
||
contented wandering wherever the loads took them. His frustration grew
|
||
with each passing month, as the cost of fuel crept ever higher.
|
||
"Be thankful we're healthy and the kids are doing well. Our time
|
||
will come." Jennette would say. Her words soothed him, but each time
|
||
he refueled he cursed the circumstances that kept them apart.
|
||
The high beams probed the darkness and suddenly illuminated the form
|
||
of a young woman standing alongside the road. She was waving, as if
|
||
she knew his truck.
|
||
"Where did you come from, little lady?" Ron asked the distant
|
||
figure, as he applied his air brakes and eased onto the shoulder of the
|
||
road.
|
||
The Imp climbed onto the big truck and smiled through the open
|
||
window. "Thanks for stopping. I got dropped a little way back and
|
||
need a lift."
|
||
"Come on in. I'm goin' to Hagerstown. Where you headed?"
|
||
"Baltimore, but I can catch a bus out of Hagerstown."
|
||
Conversation flowed easily, as miles slid under the truck. The Imp
|
||
learned first hand that Ron Hall was a good man. He had not ignored
|
||
the fact that her jump suit fit like a second skin, or that she was a
|
||
well developed woman. Her good looks and deeply exposed cleavage
|
||
simply did not tempt him. The thought crossed his mind and The Imp
|
||
almost blushed when she read his thoughts. He decided that he wouldn't
|
||
risk hurting Jennette over a quickie on a Maryland mountainside. She
|
||
sure looked good, though.
|
||
Hagerstown, nearly as dark at two in the morning as the forest she
|
||
had left three hours before, marked their reluctant parting. He shook
|
||
her hand and wished her well.
|
||
"Thanks for the lift, Ron. And for the good wishes. I'm sure
|
||
you'll find a way to start traveling with your wife, real soon."
|
||
"Well, that's real sweet. You just be careful in Baltimore. There
|
||
are some mighty ugly people there."
|
||
"I'll be fine. My Father taught me some special tricks."
|
||
The young woman smiled and stepped down from the truck. The middle
|
||
aged man felt his smile lingering longer than he expected. She was
|
||
that kind of person, made people want to smile.
|
||
From his driver's seat, Ron could not see the tiny trickle coming
|
||
from the passenger side fuel tank. The Imp had been a little careless
|
||
when she ordered the tank to keep itself full from now on. It was her
|
||
first effort at interference in many years. The Kenworth seemed to
|
||
sparkle, as it passed under a street lamp and two small dents in the
|
||
left fender popped out. The Imp smiled at her handiwork and waved to
|
||
the man and his air horn. She knew he would accept her gift and begin
|
||
to travel with his wife. She was glad. They would only have three
|
||
years. The Boss had plans for them. They had discussed the idea of
|
||
giving the two good people a short period of mortal pleasure, when they
|
||
had planned her trip. Everyone knew He worked in many mysterious ways,
|
||
they just did not know how well planned the mysteries were.
|
||
A teenager, cruising the darkened streets way beyond what should
|
||
have been his bed time, honked his horn at the image of feminine
|
||
abundance. His horn relay fused and within minutes a police officer
|
||
had him pulled over and answering some very pointed questions about his
|
||
breath and the late hour.
|
||
The Imp walked the three blocks to the small Greyhound station and
|
||
bought a ticket. She rested on one of the wooden benches and feigned
|
||
sleep, hoping to snare a mugger or purse snatcher. Her efforts were
|
||
wasted. Hagerstown was too small for a full-time mugger.
|
||
Baltimore, like all large cities, was both modern and aged. The
|
||
wealthy lived in the new and shining parts, while the poor eked out
|
||
their existences in the battered sections. There was a common ground,
|
||
however, based on a white powder, pills of various colors, and a green
|
||
weed like substance.
|
||
Vincent Cararro, one time supplicant to J. Edgar Hoover's
|
||
organization, was the pivot point around which the major sales of
|
||
certain substances were hinged. He had decided years earlier that
|
||
being on one side of the law was the only way to live. He had simply
|
||
changed sides. He gave up his quest to be an agent for the F.B.I.,
|
||
when he discovered the wealth waiting in the sale of certain powders,
|
||
tablets, and grasses. His beginnings were humble but he soon became
|
||
another American success story.
|
||
Vinny worked the streets for two years while building his customer
|
||
list and the staff he needed to feed their demands. He risked
|
||
everything on one gigantic purchase, betting on the greed of his
|
||
suppliers. His demand to meet The Man was eased by the size of the
|
||
purchase. Besides, The Man liked to see youngsters with the courage to
|
||
improve themselves. The initial meeting led to more encounters and
|
||
eventually to Vinny meeting The Man's family. Marriage into the Family
|
||
was almost predetermined. Margerete was attractive and undemanding.
|
||
Vinny still had the freedom to visit his girls. He stayed away from
|
||
the house her father had given them, for days at a time. Life was
|
||
good. Vinny bought his drugs at a fraction of the street price and
|
||
sold them to local businessmen for thousands of dollars. The quality
|
||
of the women he visited improved and his clothes reflected the latest
|
||
fashion. He never missed a Sunday in church. He and Margerete were
|
||
front row Catholics, she constantly and he at least on Sundays and
|
||
holidays. Vinny was content.
|
||
|
||
Outside the Greyhound station, a pimp, black of skin and slow of
|
||
wit, invited The Imp to "See Baltimore with Me, Baby." She agreed,
|
||
needing time to get accustomed to the streets and the feel of the city
|
||
after having just arrived. The glossy Cadillac, its chrome sparkling
|
||
in overabundance, moved through the streets like a well fed lion.
|
||
The Imp listened to the ages old pitch the pimp was making and
|
||
nodded at the appropriate places. He was practically beaming at his
|
||
good fortune. With this one he moved out of the twenty dollar a toss
|
||
bracket, into the world of three or four hundred dollar tricks. She
|
||
was a smooth piece of material and looked green as grass. She was
|
||
speechless with all the big city wonders he was flashing on her. Now
|
||
all he needed was a good meal inside her belly and him in her drawers.
|
||
Tomorrow or the next day she would be anxious to help him. His fantasy
|
||
knew no limits.
|
||
"How about if we eat, Baby?"
|
||
"Certainly."
|
||
"You gonna' need a place to stay, got enough bread?"
|
||
The Imp nodded.
|
||
The pimp flinched. He liked the ones who showed up broke. They
|
||
were easier. This one might be tougher, but she was worth the effort.
|
||
"Why not save your cash, Baby, and spend the night with me?"
|
||
"I wouldn't want to put you out. You might not have room for the
|
||
two of us."
|
||
"No Baby. I got lots of room. You can have your own room, even. I
|
||
got anything else you might need, too."
|
||
"Well...O.K. But, only if your sure you are ready for what might
|
||
happen."
|
||
"Baby, you won't be no problem at all and what ever you wanna' do is
|
||
fine with me."
|
||
The Cadillac swerved into the left hand lane and the pimp rushed
|
||
toward his apartment. He would eat after he had a chance to get this
|
||
one in bed. She seemed more than ready. The screech of tires signaled
|
||
their arrival.
|
||
The apartment was small and contained one bedroom.
|
||
"Where is the room you promised me?"
|
||
"Right there, with me to keep away the cold."
|
||
The air in the shabby room seemed to crackle for an instant and the
|
||
pimp wondered what was going on. He could smell the ozone in the air,
|
||
as he moved his hands to his ears, against the sudden noise. He felt
|
||
much more hair than he should have. He looked into the cracked mirror
|
||
over the mantle and nearly fainted. The face of a woman looked back,
|
||
an unbelievably ugly woman. The face followed all the moves he made.
|
||
That ugly broad in the mirror was him. He jerked his head back toward
|
||
the woman he was planning to seduce and found the room empty. He
|
||
searched the apartment. He was alone. He stripped, having difficulty
|
||
with the unfamiliar buttons and snaps. He looked down toward his toes
|
||
and saw breasts, if anything that baggy and small could count as
|
||
breasts. The belly below the first discovery was fully rounded, in
|
||
fact looked uncomfortably pregnant. But pregnancy bulged a woman's
|
||
belly and this mass of wrinkles was far from smooth. The legs holding
|
||
the hideous mass erect were like black pipe cleaners. The pimp rushed
|
||
to the bath room to view the entire mess in the full length mirror.
|
||
He recognized the lunch he had eaten earlier, as he flushed the
|
||
results of his sudden sickness. He was still himself, inside.
|
||
Whatever the hell that meant. Except now he looked like a fifty cent
|
||
chippy from the Grey Panther gatherings in the park. "Oh God, what did
|
||
I do?"
|
||
"It wasn't me. Ask The Imp."
|
||
The pimp didn't hear the reply, she was busy being sick again.
|
||
|
||
The Imp walked down the street smiling and singing a line from Peace
|
||
In The Valley. "...and I'll be changed, changed from this fool that I
|
||
am."
|
||
|
||
Monday dawned soft and warm. Vincent Cararro drive his burgundy
|
||
Lincoln Continental carefully and headed for his office. He nodded and
|
||
waved to his neighbors and friends in the plush suburb where his wife
|
||
and children lived. He still preferred the spicier flavor of the
|
||
streets. He disliked the tiny tit and tight ass attitude of the people
|
||
who lived behind the stone walls of their palatial estates. He slowed
|
||
for the light at the corner of Barthalemew and Walden and watched with
|
||
mild interest as the sleek looking woman walked across Walden. Her
|
||
full figure was accentuated by the plunging neckline of her shimmering
|
||
jumpsuit. No tiny tits there. Her full breasts moved with a
|
||
sensuousness that turned his mild interest into the beginnings of an
|
||
erection. He was startled, when the car behind him honked with
|
||
impatience. He jerked forward awkwardly and raced down Walden to the
|
||
first turnaround. Tires screeched and several people wondered why Mr.
|
||
Cararro would behave in such an uncouth manner. The Lincoln dashed
|
||
back to the intersection to find the startling vision of femininity
|
||
walking down Walden. Vinny muttered a silent prayer that no one else
|
||
would pick her up, and waited impatiently for the light to allow him
|
||
access to the road he had just traversed.
|
||
"Need a ride, Miss?"
|
||
The Imp looked him over, she wanted to be sure she had the right
|
||
man. Lots of people in the area drove maroon Lincolns. He looked like
|
||
the images she had seen yesterday and his sleek smile looked like he
|
||
needed a lesson even if he were the wrong one. She was not, after all,
|
||
on a strict schedule. She smiled and leaned down, affording Vinny an
|
||
even better view of her unzipped cleavage.
|
||
"I wouldn't want to put you out of your way."
|
||
"No problem, where are you headed?"
|
||
"Downtown. I'm looking for work."
|
||
"Climb in, I'll have you there in no time."
|
||
The Imp opened the door and slid into the plush interior. Her arm
|
||
touched his on the armrest and neither of them moved to break the
|
||
contact.
|
||
"What sort of work do you do?"
|
||
"Model. At least that's what I did back in Omaha."
|
||
"You been in town long?"
|
||
"Just got in. Haven't even found a place to stay yet."
|
||
Vinny smiled like an undertaker who was witnessing a seventeen car
|
||
pile up. He knew this was going to be a good day.
|
||
"I might be able to help you with both problems. I have friends in
|
||
the modeling world and my company manages a lot of apartments. Why
|
||
don't you come along with me and let me see what I can do?"
|
||
"That sounds like a lot of bother for you. I don't want to put you
|
||
to all the trouble."
|
||
"No trouble. In fact, I insist. You can rent one of the apartments
|
||
we manage and if you find a job, we can celebrate together. Unless, of
|
||
course, you have friends in town."
|
||
"No. No friends here. In fact, you are only the second person I've
|
||
met in this big place. The first was not the best experience for me.
|
||
I hope you're more sincere and more of a gentleman then he was."
|
||
"My intentions are nothing but honorable. An apartment and a job
|
||
and you can go your own way. Unless, of course, you decide to let me
|
||
help you celebrate."
|
||
Traffic built and driving took Vinny out of the conversation mood.
|
||
He despised the traffic and would have worked at home, if his wife
|
||
hadn't been there. He went into the office only to keep up a front for
|
||
neighbors and the Internal Revenue Service. He also had three
|
||
secretaries who helped distract him when he was bored.
|
||
Like a roller coaster, the streamlined Lincoln dove into the
|
||
darkness that signaled a parking garage. The narrow passageway led to
|
||
a stall marked V. Cararro. Vinny pulled smoothly into the parking
|
||
place and switched off the engine. He turned to the young woman and
|
||
smiled. "Shall we go up?"
|
||
"I suppose so, I really don't want you to be put out."
|
||
"That is silly. I'm glad to help a stranger to town."
|
||
|
||
Three hours later, with only a small nudge from Vinny, two modeling
|
||
agencies wanted to use her and one apartment house had a new resident.
|
||
The Cararro's approval was enough to get her started. The apartment
|
||
manager had taken Vinny's word for a deposit and she was ready to move
|
||
into a furnished apartment. Suddenly, Vincent was the focus of her
|
||
life.
|
||
Lunch time became a celebration that he promised was only the
|
||
beginning. They ate and drank and laughed. They were both pleased
|
||
with the way things were moving.
|
||
|
||
The Imp, Madeline Warren to the apartment manager, looked down on
|
||
the bed and the boxes she had just dropped there. Vinny had insisted
|
||
that she buy some clothes so they could dress in style for their up
|
||
coming evening. He escorted her to several very posh shops and helped
|
||
her select a red dress that looked like spray paint on her full figured
|
||
body. The underthings and the shoes were quite ordinary, expensive but
|
||
normal. She would be dressed in the height of fashion and be escorted
|
||
by a man who was as handsome as he was rotten.
|
||
|
||
The Imp walked out of the bathroom and was confronted by a huge
|
||
bottle of champagne and Vinny. Wrapped in a towel, she was a vision of
|
||
feminine abundance. The small sprinkling of freckles across her
|
||
shoulders and the tops of her full breasts were frosting on the
|
||
delicate paleness of her skin.
|
||
Unflustered, she continued drying her hair with one corner of her
|
||
towel. "Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Cararro. We had a date for
|
||
eight and it can't be later than six thirty. As you can see, I'm not
|
||
ready to leave."
|
||
Vincent smiled. "I was hoping we were beyond Mr. Cararro. My
|
||
friends call me Vinny. I wish you would."
|
||
"Perhaps later. Right now I want to get dressed and fix my hair.
|
||
You will have to leave."
|
||
"I could wait out there," Vinny nodded toward the living room.
|
||
The Imp shook her head.
|
||
Vinny left, the apartment door slamming.
|
||
|
||
The evening was a whirl of pleasant sensations. Excellent food and
|
||
drink, followed by three nightclubs with animated dancers, breath
|
||
stealing comedy, and a sensuous stage show to close the evening. The
|
||
stage show would have been pornographic in Omaha, but in Baltimore it
|
||
was only stimulating. The Imp knew Vinny was much more stimulated than
|
||
she, despite his hope that the opposite would be true.
|
||
The Imp accepted a kiss at her door and would allow no further
|
||
imprecations from the aroused man. She wanted him thinking about
|
||
nothing but his passion.
|
||
|
||
With two weeks of modeling in daylight and fending off Vinny's
|
||
advances during the dark hours, The Imp brought Vincent Cararro to a
|
||
full boil.
|
||
She knew that this was the night. She dressed with special care and
|
||
waited for his distinctive knock. A soft smile marked her face. She
|
||
was enjoying the tenseness she had watched growing along with the
|
||
passion.
|
||
On the mark of eight, Vinny rapped his knuckles on the white painted
|
||
panel of her door. He stood admiring the new manicure he had just
|
||
gotten and waiting for her to answer. Tonight, he promised to himself.
|
||
Tonight you loose those fancy drawers, Babe. Better get ready to
|
||
enjoy. His visions of the evening's pleasures brought a sinister smile
|
||
to his lips.
|
||
The Imp opened the door and smiled to her ardent suitor.
|
||
"Good to see you, Vinny."
|
||
Vincent stalked into the apartment, deciding in that instant to try
|
||
the strong man routine since his gentle approach had failed. He fitted
|
||
a look of restrained fury on his face and turned to the wonderfully
|
||
sexy creature before him.
|
||
"You've driven me to a difficult situation. I have been patient and
|
||
waited for you. Tonight we will be together, or I'll be obliged to
|
||
make some phone calls and withdraw my support for your modeling work
|
||
and this apartment."
|
||
Vinny waited for her reply. He knew she liked the good life they
|
||
had been sampling so fully for the last weeks.
|
||
Wordlessly, The Imp reached behind her and slowly unzipped her
|
||
dress. The hiss of the zipper erased the lines of ferocity from the
|
||
angry man's face and magically replaced them with a smile. Vinny began
|
||
removing his jacket and never took his eyes from the fantastic form
|
||
being revealed before him. His excitement swelled the front of his
|
||
trousers. That reaction seemed to stimulate him even more.
|
||
The Imp had indeed dressed with special care. She stood before the
|
||
man clad only in a skimpy pair of panties, a pair of almost transparent
|
||
hose and a garter belt that matched her panties. Her swelling breasts
|
||
were the focus of the now perspiring man before her.
|
||
"Is this what you want, Vincent Cararro?"
|
||
"Yes. Dear God, yes. I want you more than anything in the world."
|
||
"Well, at least get out of that ruffled shirt."
|
||
Vinny peeled the shirt from his sweating body so swiftly that
|
||
several buttons popped off onto the floor and rolled under a chair.
|
||
"I've waited for you, ever since I met you."
|
||
"Well, before you get me I want something too."
|
||
"What? What do you want, money?"
|
||
"Of course not. I want the list of people you sell drugs to."
|
||
Vincent felt his erection stop growing, he felt his slacks relax
|
||
back down to their normal drape. This was a bizarre situation, one
|
||
that should have no place between a woman who was nearly naked and a
|
||
man who was swelling with desire. What the hell did she need with a
|
||
list of his customers? Forget her list, what she needed was a few
|
||
hours in a big bed.
|
||
"Why don't we talk about that later?"
|
||
Vinny felt himself leave the floor. He hadn't jumped, the floor had
|
||
simply moved out from under his feet. The woman was still on the
|
||
floor. He was several feet above the carpeting, in a room that smelled
|
||
faintly like there had been a rainstorm inside the apartment.
|
||
"What the hell... What's going on?"
|
||
"When I get the list you can come back down."
|
||
"Why?"
|
||
"My business. Are you ready to give me the list.?"
|
||
"Not this life time."
|
||
The words were the last thing to pass through his lips, going out or
|
||
coming in. He grasped his throat and began writhing almost instantly.
|
||
Within a minute his actions were frantic. His supply of oxygen was
|
||
gone and what little he had held in his lungs was nearly used up.
|
||
The Imp waited patiently.
|
||
Frantically, Vinny nodded his wordless willingness.
|
||
The Imp allowed him to breathe and restated her demand.
|
||
"There is a book, in my jacket pocket. The names are there. But
|
||
they are all untouchable."
|
||
"Not from me. You'll descend in ten minutes. Do not endeavor to
|
||
follow me or find me. If you do I'll make you the most miserable man
|
||
since Job. I would advise you to find a more respectable occupation,
|
||
Mr. Cararro. I'll be watching."
|
||
Speechless, Vinny watched while the sultry looking woman slipped
|
||
into the skin tight jumpsuit she had been wearing when he first met
|
||
her. She left the front zipper enticingly low and left the room.
|
||
Vinny watched the clock on the mantle click off the minutes and was
|
||
waiting as his feet gently returned to the floor. He dashed to the
|
||
telephone and began calling his drug customers.
|
||
After the third call, Vinny realized his mistake. He had told the
|
||
people that someone, possibly connected with the law, had the names of
|
||
all his customers. Two of the customers were suddenly terse in their
|
||
replies and hung up. The third one promised to get Vinny and left the
|
||
phone off the hook.
|
||
|
||
Vincent Cararro died in a fiery explosion two weeks later. The
|
||
police bomb experts said that there must have been twenty sticks of
|
||
dynamite planted in the car. They were confused, however; they could
|
||
not figure why the second and third bomb had not detonated. The
|
||
investigation was narrowing the list of suspects and they expected an
|
||
arrest shortly. None of the reporters believed a thing about the press
|
||
release, except the part about the other bombs.
|
||
|
||
Nearly two hundred doctors, lawyers and prominent business men left
|
||
Baltimore, committed suicide, or died from natural causes in the weeks
|
||
following Vinny's death. Life insurance company computers discarded
|
||
the data of these deaths, they all seemed unnatural, despite the police
|
||
reports. Claims went unpaid and unchallenged in the courts. Drug
|
||
addicts in Baltimore are still having difficulty getting drugs. Many
|
||
moved away, some reformed, and some died from the agonies of
|
||
withdrawal. White powder, other than Domino sugar, was very scarce at
|
||
the parties of the affluent.
|
||
|
||
The only person who noticed The Imp when she left was a trucker who
|
||
picked up a beautiful woman on The Beltway. She needed a lift to
|
||
Washington. He carried her to the outskirts of the capital city and
|
||
continued toward Virginia and the son whom he discovered was suddenly
|
||
cured of the leukemia that had been eating him alive. The trucker was
|
||
already one of the faithful at his small church and credited the
|
||
recovery with his prayers. He may have been right.
|
||
|
||
The Imp was last seen walking into Washington, D.C. smiling and
|
||
humming. She was obviously looking forward to her next tasks.
|
||
|
||
Fred looked up from his book and noticed that The Boss seemed
|
||
happier than usual. He was pleased that The Boss derived joy from the
|
||
few glimmers of hope coming from Earth. There seemed to be a few more
|
||
souls returning as well. No matter, Fred mused. There's room for
|
||
everyone.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Honorable Mentions: The Other Half of the Top Ten
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All Rights Reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Fiction
|
||
-------
|
||
|
||
6. It's All Greek to Uncle Thaddeus by Joe DeRouen (Nov 93)
|
||
7. A Cold Montreal Winter by Daniel Sendecki (Jun 94)
|
||
8. Wally, Beware the Cybermaster by Franchot Lewis (Oct 93)
|
||
9. The Squirrels by L. Shawn Aiken (Dec 93)
|
||
10. Djinn, I Win! by Joe DeRouen (Aug 93)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
³ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ÚË Ë¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ Ú» É¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ÚÉ ÚÍÑËÑÍ¿ ÚËÍÍÍË¿ ³
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³ ³º ÃÎÍÍÍδ ³ÌÍÍËÊÙ ÀÊÑËѼ٠ÀÊÍÍÍË¿ ÃÎÍÍÍδ ³º ³º³ ÀÊÍÍÍË¿ ³
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³ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ÀÊ ÊÙ ÀÊ ÈÍÙ ÀÊÙ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ÀÊ ÊÙ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ÀÍÏÊÏÍÙ ÀÊÍÍÍÊÙ ³
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³ Dallas/Ft Worth's First & Longest Running Multi-User BBS ³
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³ (214) 690-9295 Dallas (817) 540-5565 Ft. Worth ³
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³ 64 Telephone Lines ³
|
||
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|
||
³ NO File Upload or File Ratio Requirements ³
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||
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|
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³ High Speed: (214) 690-9296 Dallas (817) 540-5569 Ft. Worth ³
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ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Michael Elansky: Anarchist?
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Gage Steele
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
MICHAEL ELANSKY: ANARCHIST?
|
||
by Gage Steele
|
||
|
||
|
||
When does the "long arm of the law" extend too far? Michael Elansky,
|
||
of West Hartford, Connecticut, found out this summer.
|
||
|
||
22 year-old Michael (aka "The Ionizer") ran a BBS called The
|
||
Warehouse. He was also a member of the International Information
|
||
Retrieval Guild, a computer group very much concerned with freedom of
|
||
speech and freedom of information. Like the group with which he was
|
||
affiliated, Michael felt strongly about our First Amendment rights, and
|
||
it was this belief that ultimately led him to trouble.
|
||
Michael is currently in jail, unable to post his $500,000 bail. Says
|
||
the prosecutor, he created risk or injury to a minor and advocated
|
||
violence against law enforcement agents. Those are some mighty hefty
|
||
infringements, true, and carry a maximum of 10 years imprisonment if
|
||
convicted.
|
||
Police say a file found on Michael's system gave instructions on how
|
||
to build bombs and other explosives, and that having it on his BBS was in
|
||
conflict with the law. The text itself was written 4 years ago by "Deth
|
||
Vegetable" (who was a teen at the time of writing, and unable to be
|
||
reached for comment). It contained information similar to what you might
|
||
find in numerous publications, including highschool- and college-level
|
||
chemistry textbooks, and the infamous _Anarchists Cookbook_. All can be
|
||
purchased in many bookstores, as well as borrowed from most local
|
||
libraries, without fear of breaking the law. In fact, minors are able to
|
||
purchase or borrow the _Anarchists Cookbook_ itself, from numerous venues.
|
||
So, why, then, was it illegal for Michael to make a similar,
|
||
electronic version available to his users? This remains unanswered, as
|
||
do many aspects of this case. While researching, I came to numerous
|
||
inconclusive pieces of evidence, some possibly fact, some possibly
|
||
fiction.
|
||
|
||
In Detective Richard Aniolowsky's unsworn officer's report, he
|
||
states:
|
||
|
||
" That I, Richard Aniolowsky, am a member of the West
|
||
Hartford Police Department and have been for ten years
|
||
and 7 months and was promoted to Detective in September
|
||
1990.
|
||
[...]
|
||
That it was on May 28, 1993 that Detective Goodrow of
|
||
the Hartford Police Department gained access to the
|
||
"Warehouse", a modem accessible computer
|
||
[...]
|
||
That Goodrow said the "Anarchy'" [sic] file he obtained
|
||
access to the Warehouse bulletin board through one of
|
||
the users systems. "
|
||
|
||
Although Detective Aniolowsky's writing is somewhat difficult to
|
||
follow at times, mixed with typos and grammatical errors, this last
|
||
sentence does seem to read that Detective Goodrow used someone else's
|
||
account to log onto The Warehouse. This would be classified as a class
|
||
C felony under Connecticut General Statute 54-41 ("...Unauthorised or
|
||
illegal inception of wire communication of any person...").
|
||
Also, when Michael's BBS LOG file was made available for inspection,
|
||
only two incidents were found of the file ever having been downloaded.
|
||
Neither incidents occured on May 28th, 1993, the date which Detectives
|
||
Aniolowsky and Goodrow contend they acquired it through download from The
|
||
Warehouse BBS. Both accesses of the file in question were made previous
|
||
to the May date.
|
||
Did the detectives investigating the case commit a crime?
|
||
Unfortunately, I was unable to reach either Aniolowsky or Goodrow for
|
||
comment.
|
||
|
||
"Misguided Youth" (whose true name I cannot divulge, upon his
|
||
request), a user of The Warehouse BBS, had this to say when I spoke with
|
||
him on the telephone:
|
||
|
||
" Detective Aniolowsky came to my house and made me sign
|
||
a statement saying I had seen anarchy and bomb-making
|
||
files on Warehouse and that I had spoken on the phone
|
||
with 'Ionizer' many times.
|
||
My parents only witnessed me signing.
|
||
But later it got changed to '...I had spoken on the
|
||
phone with 'Ionizer' many times about making bombs.'
|
||
I have never had an interest in anarchy files. I never
|
||
got any from 'Ionizer.' I have never cared to download
|
||
them. "
|
||
|
||
Neither I, nor "Misguided Youth" could grasp the reasoning behind the
|
||
later alteration of the statement he had signed. He also seemed to feel
|
||
that the police pressured him in the situation. I found "Misguided Youth"
|
||
very pleasant to speak with, and do not understand why such apparent
|
||
"strongarm" tactics were used to ensure his signing of the statement.
|
||
|
||
When I spoke with Michael Elansky on the telephone, he was sincere,
|
||
at ease, and very willing to talk with me. He did, however, have a bit of
|
||
information to add to the complexity of it all:
|
||
|
||
" I was supposed to be arraigned in Hartford Court.
|
||
My lawyer was present when we went down. The
|
||
arrest warrant had the bond set at $20,000. But,
|
||
Detective Aniolowsky said that I needed to be
|
||
taken to the WEST Hartford Court to be booked.
|
||
So, my lawyer said 'okay,' and he waited at
|
||
Hartford.
|
||
So, Aniolowsky [took me to West Hartford Court] and
|
||
rushed through booking, prints, photo. Then he
|
||
took me upstairs where they proceeded to arraign me
|
||
- without my lawyer present! Aniolowsky made a
|
||
motion to set my bond at $500,000, which it was.
|
||
Of course it was! My lawyer wasn't even there to
|
||
say anything, and Aniolowsky knew he wasn't there
|
||
and knew he was waiting for us back at Hartford
|
||
Court. "
|
||
|
||
From the way Michael was treated, it looks as though his right to
|
||
counsel was compleatly ignored. I don't want to pass judgement, but isn't
|
||
that... unjust?
|
||
I asked Michael about minors on his BBS, and what sort of files they
|
||
had access to. He assured me that no-one under 18 could look at the adult
|
||
areas. When I asked specifically about the text in question, he said:
|
||
|
||
" No, no-one under 16 could even see that stuff.
|
||
Only one guy under 18 had access to it, he's 17,
|
||
but he's a member of the International Information
|
||
Retrieval Guild, and had to have access to it. "
|
||
|
||
For clarity, that means this 17 year old had clout over Michael in
|
||
the hierarchy of the computer group. It was rather like part of the 17
|
||
year-old's job description to ensure that Michael ran his system within
|
||
the guidelines of the group, and therefor required a very high level of
|
||
access to The Warehouse BBS.
|
||
Ever-optimistic, Michael also added this:
|
||
|
||
" [There's] no way in hell I'd ever plead guilty to
|
||
these two charges, nor would I ever cop a deal
|
||
forcing me to plead guilty to these two charges.
|
||
I did nothing wrong. I am confident that the two
|
||
charges will be dismissed. "
|
||
|
||
Meanwhile, pretrial hearings are filled with deliberation, and some
|
||
headway. And - Michael remains behind bars, waiting.
|
||
|
||
The Elansky case could have staggering effects on electronic-based
|
||
media and publication. If the prosecutor finds Elansky guilty as charged,
|
||
maintains that the file is illegal and worthy of felony prosecution with
|
||
possible imprisonment, then the basis for attacking a BBS, but not a
|
||
bookstore or local library, is not defined. In fact, were Elansky to be
|
||
found guilty, it would seem that the prosecutor reneged all First
|
||
Amendment rights and protection under such simply because the text was
|
||
electronically bound and not paper bound.
|
||
|
||
The Internationl Information Retrieval Guild and Michael Elansky
|
||
asked, as a favour, that I also include the following. The Elansky Family
|
||
is having a terrible time assuaging the cost of legal fees. Because of
|
||
this, a fund has been set up, and they are asking that anyone able, donate
|
||
whatever he/she can afford to his legal defense.
|
||
|
||
Send what you can to:
|
||
|
||
Free Ionizer
|
||
c/o David Elansky
|
||
25 Maiden Lane
|
||
West Hartford, CT 06117
|
||
|
||
Make cheques or money orders payable to Michael Elansky. This way,
|
||
you are assured that all funds go directly to his defense. The bank's
|
||
account number for the fund should also be written on the cheque or money
|
||
order: 02-060-573652
|
||
|
||
|
||
My thanks to: Dan, International Information Retrieval Guild;
|
||
David Elansky; "Misguided Youth;" and Michael Elansky. If it weren't
|
||
for them, this article could not have been written.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Musings
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
[This article originally appeared in Lucia Chamber's Electronic magazine
|
||
Smoke & Mirrors]
|
||
|
||
|
||
Where do I get my Muse? Interesting question, and one I thought I'd be
|
||
able to answer easily. When Lucia Chambers asked me to write this
|
||
article I never even dreamed that it would remain unwritten til just a
|
||
few days before the deadline.
|
||
|
||
I guess my Muse is hiding.
|
||
|
||
Where do I get my muse? That's a hard question. It's not like "Where do
|
||
you get your socks?" You can answer that one easily enough, and still
|
||
have time for brunch. My muse doesn't come often enough for me to know
|
||
when she'll be paying her respects again, let alone where she came from
|
||
in the first place.
|
||
|
||
Ah, but when she does come - my muse is most definitely of the female
|
||
persuasion - she strikes hard and fast. She hides in many guises,
|
||
preferring to offer inspiration when it's least expected. Often, too,
|
||
when it's least convenient.
|
||
|
||
She comes to me in different forms, in different ways, whispering sweet
|
||
hints of a long-forgotten song, or dancing across my mind's eye in the
|
||
flash of an instant. Unfortunately, she's usually whispering in Greek
|
||
and often whilst dancing across my mind's eye, she steps on my nose.
|
||
|
||
More than once, in a fit of uncontrollable sneezing, I've scared my muse
|
||
away. It's just as well, anyway; my Greek phrasebook rarely if ever
|
||
is of any help, and by the time I *do* manage to decipher exactly what
|
||
it is she's saying, she's off doing other things.
|
||
|
||
And how do I know that my muse is a she, you might ask? Simple: who else
|
||
but a woman could tantalize you by revealing only bits and pieces of
|
||
herself, yank it all away in an instant, and leave you wanting for more?
|
||
Who else could drive you to stay up half the night putting words to an
|
||
electronic screen, just waiting for the ones that work? Indeed, I have
|
||
no doubt that my Muse is of the fairer sex. For a final bit of proof, I
|
||
offer you this: who but a woman could take you to the edge, make you
|
||
think that she's finally come, only to leave you with the knowledge that
|
||
it was all a fake?
|
||
|
||
Talk about my Muse coming when it's least convenient. She just came,
|
||
inspiring me to write the chauvinistic, risque' bit of drivel you just
|
||
read. But what else can I do? To paraphrase an old saying, "My Muse made
|
||
me do it."
|
||
|
||
Whatever problems she causes - she's caused several near wrecks, for
|
||
example, as I searched furtively for a pad and paper and failed to
|
||
remember that I was in my car at the time - I wouldn't trade her for
|
||
anything. Without her.. I couldn't be me.
|
||
|
||
But that still doesn't explain where my Muse actually comes from, does
|
||
it? I suppose that's because I don't really know. She's told me so many
|
||
conflicting stories that I can't even begin to sort out the truth. For
|
||
all I know, she really *could* be the reincarnation of Elvis.
|
||
Stranger things have happened, for my Muse and me.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
[Note: Mr. Herbert responded to THE QUESTION & ANSWERS SESSION question
|
||
I posed in the Aug. issue of STTS about three days too late. His entry
|
||
was so well written and, more importantly, insightful that I decided to
|
||
give his reply article space in the Oct. issue. Thus, here is Mr.
|
||
Herbert's reply to the question: "If you had one wish, what would you
|
||
wish for and why?"]
|
||
|
||
|
||
If I Had One Wish...
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, L.J. Herbert
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The falbed wish is something that has thrilled humankind throughout the
|
||
ages, inspiring many myths wherin hapless men succumb to the follies the
|
||
human mind is so capable of producing when it is offered such a tempting
|
||
lure as "anything your heart desires". Through their fumblings we learn
|
||
what NOT to wish for: wealth, status, the love of another, the death of
|
||
another, more wishes, etc., but the mind always refuses be tethered and
|
||
presses forward with yet more fantasic explorations of how this
|
||
perplexing riddle might finally be solved by the wise man with "The
|
||
Answer".
|
||
|
||
Without claiming to be such a wise man, I'd like to establish for the
|
||
criticism of others the conclusion my own mind comes to. My solution
|
||
stems from a practice (made easier by this question's hypothetical
|
||
nature, to be sure!) of resisting all initial urges to grab at pretty
|
||
baubles so that I can attempt to trly answer the question in all its
|
||
implications by pinpointing the ONE thing I desire above all other
|
||
objects. The frequent context of this question--a myth--will be my
|
||
guide in this pursuit.
|
||
|
||
In exposing the eternal frailty of human beings, this myth reminds me
|
||
that I too am human, hinting at universal implications. Thus, a spark
|
||
of insight tells me that I must search for a universal wish, one which
|
||
all men and women would agree with. This seems difficult only if I
|
||
forget the frame of myth, for what is myth if it is not the ultimate
|
||
expression of human solidarity? To be sure, myths are particular in
|
||
detail, but their underlying purpose, from Gilgamesh to Star Wars, is
|
||
always the same: the search for an enlightened understanding of our
|
||
confusing existence; in other words, a knowledge of how to LIVE.
|
||
|
||
When this is understood, what else is there to wish for but the ability
|
||
to interperate Nature with wisdom and so to live well in this hostile
|
||
world? This is what all of we homo sapiens would wish for if we merely
|
||
reflected on our innermost longings. The proof is in the very origin of
|
||
this question: the myth.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Panacea for Cheezy Movies
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Panacea for Cheezy Movies
|
||
by L. Shawn Aiken
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
As a child in the 70's I would drag myself out of bed on Saturday
|
||
mornings and watch Scooby Doo, Pebbles and Bam Bam, and the Grape Ape. But
|
||
the real fun came after the cartoons. Saturday Sci Fi Theater it was called,
|
||
and once a week I would revel in the sights of Godzilla smashing Tokyo,
|
||
vampires turning into bats, and brave astronauts shooting at martians in deep
|
||
space. It was my favorite form of entertainment.
|
||
Then Star Wars came out. My world shattered. I realized that science
|
||
fiction movies could have plots. They could have good dialogue. They could
|
||
have special effects where you could swear you were seeing the real thing. I
|
||
realized Godzilla was nothing but a Japanese guy in a rubber suit. I saw the
|
||
strings holding up the fake looking vampire bat. I understood that you could
|
||
not fire a revolver in a vacuum. Depressed and embittered, I turned my back
|
||
on b-movies.
|
||
One day in early 1992 while I was channel surfing, I came upon one of
|
||
these old movies. It was "The Amazing Colossal Man", the story of a man named
|
||
Glen, who, through a nuclear accident, grows to tremendous proportions. But
|
||
something was wrong. There was a silhouette of theater seats across the
|
||
bottom, with three figures sitting there. But they were not just sitting
|
||
there, they were cracking jokes about the movie. But more than that - they
|
||
were fighting back. I was intrigued.
|
||
Later I found out its name - Mystery Science Theatre 3000. My mother
|
||
had told me about it. She thought she had inadvertently turned the television
|
||
to a religious channel and stumbled upon Christians pointing out evil things
|
||
in movies. What she had thought was the silhouette of a devil was in fact
|
||
Crow T. Robot, one of the stars of the show. The devil's horns turned out to
|
||
be a lacrosse mask, Crow's "ear devices".
|
||
The premise of the show is this: Two mad scientists, Dr. Forrester
|
||
and TV's Frank, become angry with their janitor, Joel Robinson, so they shoot
|
||
him into space. Aboard the "Satellite of Love", Joel is forced to watch
|
||
cheesy movies while the Mads monitor his mind and try to break him. To help
|
||
him keep his sanity, Joel builds two robots, Crow and Tom Servo, and together
|
||
they assault the movie of the week with their lightning comebacks and
|
||
scimitar wit. In fact, in a two hour episode, they come up average of 700
|
||
comebacks. That's over five a minute.
|
||
But It's not just the sheer volume of jokes in each episode - it's the
|
||
quality. Whether dealing with bad monster flicks to 50's beatnik movies,
|
||
they're always loaded with ammunition. During the wonderful gem Rocket Attack
|
||
USA, Joel notes, "I never thought the end of the world would be so annoying."
|
||
While watching the film Rocketship XM, Crow makes a log entry for the stars,
|
||
saying, "Dear Diary: Well, we're all going to die and it's my fault. Our
|
||
fiery demise is imminent, but at least I have my health, knock on wood." And
|
||
in the stinkburger Earth vs. the Spider, Tom Servo lets us know that "no
|
||
spiders were squished, stepped on, flushed, or made to suffer any emotional
|
||
distress during the making of this film. One spider did die of old age; we
|
||
have two letters from doctors confirming this."
|
||
Joel Hodgson created the show back in 1988 for KTMA, a UHF station in
|
||
Minneapolis. He also played the Mad's victim, Joel Robinson, from it's
|
||
beginning until late 1993. After 22 shows had been made the concept was sold
|
||
to HBO, who put it on their fledgling network, Comedy Central. The staff left
|
||
KTMA and formed an MST3K production company called Best Brains. The show has
|
||
become so popular that the network airs it every day for almost 24 hours a
|
||
week. Joel recently left the show to pursue other things. Mike Nelson, the
|
||
head writer for the show, replaced Joel as the Mad Scientists' new victim.
|
||
One MST3K fixtures is Turkey Day. The first episode of MST3K was
|
||
aired on Thanksgiving, 1988, and it has become an annual event. Each
|
||
Thanksgiving, Comedy Central airs 30 or more hours of the show in a row, to
|
||
the delight of the fans and to the scourge of their football spectating
|
||
relatives.
|
||
Above all, the high point of the show is it's fans, commonly referred
|
||
to as Misties. There are some 50,000 "official" fans. They have a tool that
|
||
Trekkers of the 70s could only have dreamed of - computer networks, allowing
|
||
them to range far and wide in their quest for like-minded people. Mike
|
||
Slusher, known as Bot Snak and the Sysop of the Deep 13 BBS, describes them
|
||
thus, "MSTies are the greatest people I know. I know that sounds trite, but
|
||
it's true. they seem to be very warm and loyal to each other and have
|
||
boundless enthusiasm for everything MST."
|
||
Misties can be found on many networks throughout the country and the
|
||
world. CompuServe has perhaps the most Misty activity, but there are Misties
|
||
on America On-Line, GEnie, NVN, Internet, Prodigy, and the burgeoning People
|
||
Together Network. Many Misties were scattered to the wind when Prodigy raised
|
||
its rates in the summer of 1993, and as Mike Slusher said, "Prodigy was good
|
||
for it's sheer number of messages, but it was ruled by evil dictators that
|
||
would always ruin the fun." Misties can also be found on many local BBSes,
|
||
their messages being echoed through nets such as RIME and WME.
|
||
Why do people "become" Misties? Perhaps Chris Cornell, a Misty know
|
||
as Sampo, explain it best. "I'm a MSTie, and unafraid to admit it, for two
|
||
reasons. First, because in more than 30 years of watching TV, and 10 years of
|
||
reviewing it professionally, MST3K is the single most intelligent, thoughtful,
|
||
positive, elegant and side-splittingly funny comedy series I have ever
|
||
encountered. Period. Second, because the more I meet and talk to other MSTies,
|
||
the more I discover what an utterly charming group of people they are. I have
|
||
a saying: "I never met a MSTie I didn't like." And when I do meet somebody
|
||
irritating who claims to be a MSTie, I'm not surprised to discover, later,
|
||
that they really could care less about the show and are just a hanger-on.
|
||
It's happened over and over. The show attracts the nicest class of people:
|
||
intelligent, sweet, polite and always very funny."
|
||
These "on-line" Misties have always yearned to know their pals behind
|
||
the computer screen better. They've exchanged photos, they've had small Misty
|
||
parties, but as of yet, nothing has compared to the MSTieWeen party of 1992.
|
||
Rockclimber, also know as Laura Kelley, described to me how it came about in
|
||
an interview. There were some plans for a convention in the late fall of 92,
|
||
but those plans petered out. Then Debbie Tobin, know as Kim C. on Prodigy,
|
||
decided to have a MST Halloween Party at her home in Edina, Minnesota. A
|
||
Comedy Central employee named Naomi who frequents some of the computer
|
||
networks was contacted about it. Laura said that they were "hoping for maybe
|
||
a bag of Doritos, or maybe a party platter," but Naomi said that they might be
|
||
able to do more. Best Brains had not made any intros for the upcoming Turkey
|
||
Day Marathon, so they decided to film the party instead, and let the party be
|
||
the intro. And they catered the event. There the Misties were, dressed up in
|
||
Halloween garb, meeting face to face and being broadcast to America at the
|
||
same time. It was a sight few will forget.
|
||
So, I have found goodness in b-movies after all. Well, perhaps not
|
||
goodness, but a good way to look at the badness, and make it good. Isn't that
|
||
what life's all about. If they hand you lemons, just make lemonade.
|
||
|
||
MST3K BBSES
|
||
Deep 13 - (215) 943-9526 (Levittown, PA) Sysop, Mike Slusher
|
||
Satellite Of Love BBS - (513) 563-0759 (Cincinnati, OH) Sysop, Bob Poirier
|
||
Satellite Of Love BBS - (619) 487-0690 (San Diego, CA)
|
||
|
||
MST3K Publications
|
||
BrainFood - BrainFood, C/O Rock Climber, 2252 S.E. Holland St., Port St. Lucie,
|
||
FL 34952
|
||
Crow's Nest - Crow's Nest, PO Box 3825, Evansville, IN 47736-3825
|
||
Digest Digest - Digest Digest, 953 Rose Arbor Dr., San Marcos, CA 92069-4584
|
||
MST3K Manifesto - C/O #12888, 6216 N. 23rd Street, Arlington, VA 22205
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Halloween - The Prequel
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Brigid Childs
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
HALLOWEEN - THE PREQUEL
|
||
|
||
|
||
Halloween - the word conjures up memories of twilight shivers, running
|
||
through the piles of carefully raked leaves to knock timorously at the
|
||
neighbors' doors, squeaking out "Trick or treat", and waiting to see which
|
||
would be chosen. Eerie faces glowed and glared, guarding window after window
|
||
with candle flame in wildly carved pumpkin. Tales of terror passed from oldest
|
||
to youngest evoked chills on that special night we'd anticipated for weeks.
|
||
Halloween was ghosts and goblins and ghoul - and most of all, Halloween was the
|
||
season of the witch; silhouetted against the full autumn moon, straddling her
|
||
broom this queen of the night rode the darkness of our dreams. But where did
|
||
Halloween come from?
|
||
|
||
To the modern witch, Halloween is a serious religious holiday, its roots
|
||
reaching back in to shamanistic tradition. Called Hallows by some pagan
|
||
traditions, this is the Celtic New Year, Samhain (pronounced something ike
|
||
"sahw-in). On this night, the Celts and their Druid priests lit bonfires upon
|
||
which they symbolically burned the ills and frustrations of the past year. At
|
||
Samhain, which translates from the Celtic as "Summer's End", the Druids counted
|
||
their herds and mated their breeding stock for the coming spring. And Samhain
|
||
was the night when the veil between the worlds would part briefly to allow
|
||
contract between the living and their dead.
|
||
|
||
Many cultures have continued this recognition of their dead. The Japanese
|
||
hang paper lanterns on their gates to welcome home the spirits of their
|
||
ancestors; similarly the Irish leave candles in their windows toward the same
|
||
purpose. The Egyptians light candles in their cemetaries to guide the dead
|
||
back from the City of Osiris. The Jack o'Lantern of modern Hallows revels was
|
||
once a carved turnip used to light both live and dead celebrants to Samhain
|
||
rites. This is a night to honour and remember those who'd gone before. While
|
||
modern Pagans do not believe in disturbing the departed, on Hallows the spirits
|
||
are invited to share our ritual gatherings and whatever voluntary messages may
|
||
be communicated are welcomed. It's also a night when witches traditionally
|
||
practice divination to anticipate the events of the coming year. Runes, tarot
|
||
cards, scrying mirrors, even nuts and apples are Hallows' tools of foreseeing.
|
||
(Apples and nuts???)
|
||
|
||
Samhain; (Summer's End, remember?) represents the Third Harvest as well.
|
||
The Celts pressed cider in this season and collected nuts and the last fruits
|
||
and grains for winter; indeed, it was considered unwise to eat foods that had
|
||
remained unharvested past Halloween. Feasting appropriate to the season
|
||
included pumpkin, corn, nuts and apples, and servings were offered to the
|
||
departed to let them share in this celebration. The apple is particularly
|
||
associated with Samhain and Wicca; cut in half horizontally, it reveals at its
|
||
core the five pointed star. Its flesh nourishes us, yet its seeds contain
|
||
deadly cyanide. Apples were sacred to Hel, the Norse goddes of the Underworld,
|
||
and in Celtic myth, Avalon, the Isle of the Blessed, and Tir-Na-Nog, the
|
||
Summerland, both homes of the dead, are both depicted as beautiful islands
|
||
where apple trees bear fruit all year. Bobbing for apples, a modern Halloween
|
||
game, recalls the pagan traditions associated with the holiday. The hazel nut
|
||
also has long been noted as sacred to the gods as a source of wisdom. Hazel
|
||
nuts are tossed on the Hallows fire by young women attempting to see their
|
||
future husbands in the flames.
|
||
|
||
Pagans still observe the Old Ways, harming none in their practice of a
|
||
religion that interprets the agricultural cycles of the earth for an urbanized
|
||
industrial society. Modern Samhain rituals allow our love for nature and
|
||
respect for our ancestors and traditions to surface in a world where such
|
||
values are in short supply. The maske and merriment of Halloween echo the
|
||
original festival of harvest and spirits, gently accepting the joy of earlier
|
||
times.
|
||
|
||
Blessed be and peace be with you - Brigid
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Honorable Mentions: The Other Half of the Top Ten
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All Rights Reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Non-Fiction
|
||
-----------
|
||
|
||
6. A Plausible Model for Space Combat by Robert McKay (Jan 94)
|
||
7. From the Journals of... (Pt.2) by Gage Steele (Sep 93)
|
||
8. Cancer: Surviving the Fear by Joe DeRouen (Jul 93)
|
||
9. Interview: Dr. Kenneth Matsumura, M.D. by L. Shawn Aiken (Feb 94)
|
||
10. Animal Rights and Wrongs by Kathy Kemper (Mar 94)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Ú¿
|
||
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|
||
ÃÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜ ÅÅÅÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
|
||
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|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÁÁÁÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÁÁÁÅ The Most Complete Daily Horoscope! ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÛÛÛ ÜÜÜÛÛÛ ÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ´ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜ ÅÅÅÅÅ´ÜÜÜ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÜÜÜ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜ Å´
|
||
ÃÅÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÂÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜ´
|
||
ÃÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÂÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ´ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÛßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßÛ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ¿
|
||
±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±ÂÛÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÛ±±±±±±±±Âű±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±Â´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
Ãþ Full Astrological ForecastÅÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÅÅÅþ Run as a Door or Bulletin´
|
||
Ãþ Personalized HoroscopesÅÅÅÅÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÅÅÅÅÅGenerator!ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
Ãþ Birthday CountdownÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÁÁÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÁÁÁþ Works with Any BBS or asÅ´
|
||
Ãþ ASCII, ANSI, and PCBÅÅÅÅÛßßß ßßß ßßß ßßßÛ ÅÅa Normal User Program!ÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÅÅColor BulletinsÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛ þ Gives LUCKY LOTTO Numbers´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Available at the Programmer's Mega-Source BBS! - 516-737-4637 ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÀÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÝ Home of DavisWARE and the one and only GameNET! ÞÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÙ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Mushroom Dawn
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Daniel Sendecki
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Mushroom Dawn
|
||
---------------
|
||
|
||
On the eve of the Great Pacific War,
|
||
King huddled against Roosevelt like a sleeping child
|
||
dreams of an enemy that never was
|
||
dreams of sleeping with his member in his mouth
|
||
quickened orations - dying gasps
|
||
ejaculation renders an atomic cloud
|
||
(In disgust, King awakens to dank, soiled
|
||
sheets and the death of thousands of Japanese)
|
||
|
||
Guilty and satisfied, he falls quickly to sleep
|
||
only to awaken to a mushroom dawn.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Gray House Cat
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Jim Reid
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Gray house cat standing at the sliding glass door
|
||
looks out, then at me.
|
||
Repeating until I catch the hint.
|
||
|
||
I let her out. A moment later
|
||
her nose and paws press the glass.
|
||
In and out, out and in
|
||
|
||
until I scowl and leave the door ajar.
|
||
She sits inside, nose at the door jam,
|
||
smiling. I am slow.
|
||
|
||
What she wanted was neither in nor out,
|
||
but the freedom to choose.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Mi'Lord
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Patricia Meeks
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Mi'LORD
|
||
|
||
When I first saw your face,
|
||
I looked and saw another hiding in your soul,
|
||
he smiled at me,
|
||
as he looked through your eyes,
|
||
recognition hit me like a blow,
|
||
I knew him from times long past,
|
||
though where and when I could not tell,
|
||
His laugh came out your lips,
|
||
and gave me goosebumps and warning bells.
|
||
|
||
Then one night I had a dream,
|
||
I was in a long flowing dress,
|
||
Waiting on Mi'Lord to come,
|
||
and ringing my hands in distress,
|
||
Concern flowed through me for his welfare,
|
||
For the night was pitch and dark with storm,
|
||
Fearing of what could befell him,
|
||
On that early winter morn.
|
||
|
||
A cry came from the sentry on watch,
|
||
A horse and rider tore down the lane,
|
||
The sleet and snow came down so hard,
|
||
Friend or foe he could not name,
|
||
Booted feet stomped up the steps,
|
||
To crash open the heavy oak door,
|
||
A form loomed out of swirling ice,
|
||
And with a cry I knew him as Mi'Lord.
|
||
|
||
I ran and threw my arms around him,
|
||
Shaking with my joy and relief,
|
||
He clasped me to him in surprise,
|
||
As tears streamed down my cheeks,
|
||
"Were you afraid, Lass?" he said,
|
||
Ashamed I nodded yes,
|
||
You see,
|
||
In my dream I looked in his eyes,
|
||
and saw you instead.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
In Time The Heart Will Wander
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Tamara
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Poetry is to the soul, what music is
|
||
to life - intrinsic without force"
|
||
|
||
Tamara
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
In Time The Heart Will Wander
|
||
|
||
In time the heart will wander
|
||
through passages unknown.
|
||
Words that bring us thunder
|
||
for silences have grown.
|
||
To love and then to lose
|
||
a brother and a friend
|
||
makes deep and lasting blues
|
||
the kind that never end.
|
||
Going out together
|
||
to reach the new horizon
|
||
casting out the feathers
|
||
that always keep surprisin'.
|
||
A love so strong it strengthens
|
||
the heart and soul for more
|
||
in spite of time that lengthens
|
||
through infinity - the door.
|
||
Death has taken many
|
||
but none were quite so near
|
||
For thoughts are just a penny
|
||
for those who wish to hear.
|
||
|
||
Written 6/15/88 (c) by Tamara
|
||
|
||
A poem in memory of my brother Kristofer Jon
|
||
who died June 6, 1988. Kris - I love you.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Touch Me
|
||
Copyright (c) 1991, Patricia Meeks
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
TOUCH ME
|
||
|
||
To touch me is to heal me.
|
||
Just reach out your hand,
|
||
and I'll meet you half way,
|
||
One little soft-whisper touch,
|
||
and I'm free.
|
||
|
||
To touch me is to trust me.
|
||
One little touch can mean so much,
|
||
One hand reaching through the darkness,
|
||
to another in time,
|
||
One little soft-whisper brush,
|
||
of your hand on mine,
|
||
and I'm strong.
|
||
|
||
To touch me is to make love with me.
|
||
Is is so hard to touch me?
|
||
The finger-brush of your body touching mine,
|
||
The tempation almost too much,
|
||
Yearning to reach out,
|
||
but pulling back in time,
|
||
I feel you touching me,
|
||
in my mind.
|
||
|
||
I know you want to touch me,
|
||
One little soft-whisper touch,
|
||
and you are healed.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Honorable Mentions: The Other Half of the Top Ten
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All Rights Reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Poetry
|
||
------
|
||
|
||
6. The Real Inheritan by Jim Reid (Jan 94)
|
||
7. Bumper Sticker Beliefs by J. Guenther (Apr 94)
|
||
8. Young Man On a Fence, 1967 by Daniel Sendecki (Oct 93)
|
||
9. A Christmas Trilogy by Joe DeRouen (Dec 93)
|
||
10. Mom by David M. Ziegler (May 94)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
THE RATES HAVE GONE DOWN! THE RATES HAVE GONE DOWN! IT'S CHEAPER NOW!
|
||
|
||
ÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄ
|
||
ÖÄÄÒÄÄ¿ ÒÄÄ¿ Ä· Ú ÖÄÄ¿ ÖÄ¿ ÖÄÄÒÄÄ¿ ÖÄÄ¿ Ò Ò Ú ÒÄÄÄÄ¿ ÒÄÄÄÄ¿ ÖÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
º ÇÄ ÖÐÂÙ ÇÄÄ´ ÓÄ¿ º ÇÄÄ´ º ÇÄÁ¿ º ³ º ³ º
|
||
º ÐÄÄÙ ½ ÀÄ Ð Á ÓÄÄÙ º Ð Á ÐÄÄÙ Ð Á ÇÄÄÄÄÁ¿ ÇÄÄÄÄÁ¿ ÓÄÄÄÄÄ¿
|
||
º (2400) º (14.4k) º ³ º ³ ³
|
||
Ð (214) 497-9100 Ð (214) 680-4330 ÐÄÄÄÄÄÙ ÐÄÄÄÄÄÙ ÓÄÄÄÄÄÙ
|
||
ÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄÍÄ
|
||
1:124/5122 (Fidonet) <userid>%textalk@egsner.cirr.com
|
||
|
||
28 Lines, Five 14.4k modems, 6 CDROMs, Fidonet, Internet, UltraChat
|
||
|
||
Legends 5.0, Lotsa Games, Live Trivia, Social Gatherings,
|
||
|
||
Friendly Atmosphere, Over 30,000 new messages daily, Expanding Gay Area
|
||
|
||
2400 baud D/FW Metro phone lines: (817) 424-1037 (817) 424-1978
|
||
|
||
Everyone online is 18 or over. NO EXCEPTIONS.
|
||
|
||
Call TODAY for your free two-week trial offer.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Heather DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top 10 Things Overheard at the First Continental Congress
|
||
---------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
||
10. "I came for the liberty, but I'm staying for the beer & pretzels!!!"
|
||
9. "Where's this wench, 'Happiness', that I'm guaranteed the right to pursue?"
|
||
8. "King George is a weinie."
|
||
7. "Pass the cream cheese."
|
||
6. "Let's call it the Paul... no... the Frank... no... the *BILL* of Rights."
|
||
5. "Would you like fries with that?"
|
||
4. "Do you really think that arming bears is a good idea?"
|
||
3. "A man is innocent until proven guilty, unless his name is O.J. Simpson."
|
||
2. "C'mon, now everybody. GROUP HUG!!!"
|
||
1. "Hey, everybody, watch me turn George Washington into a mushroom!!!"
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Heather DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top 10 Ways to Enjoy the Summer in Dallas, TX
|
||
---------------------------------------------
|
||
|
||
10. Practice flipping off motorists that cut you off on the interstate,
|
||
then ducking to dodge flying bullets.
|
||
|
||
9. Join a gang. See if you can instigate a gang war.
|
||
|
||
8. Spend as much time outdoors as possible. Admire all the pretty colors
|
||
as dementia caused by heat prostration sets in.
|
||
|
||
7. Stare at the sky and see if you can spot any new holes in the ozone before
|
||
going blind.
|
||
|
||
6. Bet on which major political figure will be indicted next.
|
||
|
||
5. LEAVE. Go somewhere that's more temperate in the summertime, like Hell.
|
||
|
||
4. Go swimming once at Lake Dallas. Spend rest of summer trying to clear
|
||
up rash caused by toxic substances in the water.
|
||
|
||
3. Say "Hot enough for ya'?" to every passing stranger. Spend 3/4 of
|
||
summer at emergency room from injuries sustained.
|
||
|
||
2. Go to a Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) bus stop and spend all of
|
||
summer waiting for a bus.
|
||
|
||
1. Stay in the air-conditioned comfort of your home and BBS, BBS, BBS!!!
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top 10 Gag Mother's Day Gifts
|
||
_____________________________
|
||
|
||
10. Hot Pepper-flavored denture gel
|
||
9. Fake photo of you and your new live-in lover "Ron"
|
||
8. Professionally edited family videos with Friday the 13th's
|
||
Jason's head superimposed over your own
|
||
7. Revealing photos of Dad and the office secretary
|
||
6. Phony headline about you shooting 30 nuns from the bell tower before
|
||
turning the gun on yourself
|
||
5. Sexy Lingerie and powerful electric "foot massage" tool
|
||
4. Revealing photos of *Mom* and the office secretary
|
||
3. Trick support hose that keep falling down
|
||
2. Two-million dollar insurance policy on Mom with you as the
|
||
benificiary
|
||
1. "Congratulations, it's a Girl!" greeting card announcing your
|
||
recent sex change operation.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe & Heather DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top 10 Things The Easter Bunny Does The Rest of the Year
|
||
________________________________________________________
|
||
|
||
|
||
10. Multiply, multiply, multiply
|
||
9. Remove dye from unused eggs, try to get refund at market
|
||
8. Taunt, cajole, and bewilder Elmer Fudd
|
||
7. Tend to his marshmallow chicken farm
|
||
6. Hang out at the Playboy bunny club
|
||
5. Pick fights with San Diego Chicken
|
||
4. Goes around telling kids that Santa Claus isn't real
|
||
3. Work on formula to render rabbit feet unlucky
|
||
2. Consult Internet Oracle as to whether he's a Christian
|
||
or Pagan religious symbol
|
||
1. Spend quality time with "longtime companion" The Tooth Fairy
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Heather DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top 10 Ways to Celebrate St. Patrick's Day
|
||
__________________________________________
|
||
|
||
|
||
10. Drink enough green beer to make vomit look like antifreeze.
|
||
9. Load up back seat of car with fake rubber snakes, then drive them
|
||
out of town.
|
||
8. Go to Keystone Kops revival festival.
|
||
7. Roll me over in the clover!!!
|
||
6. Fill up car with gas at Shamrock service station.
|
||
5. Watch "The Crying Game". See if you can figure out which one's
|
||
not really a woman without having to be told.
|
||
4. Rant loudly about those obnoxious Catholics/Protestants (depending
|
||
on personal preference).
|
||
3. Listen to newest Siouxsie and the Banshees CD until your ears bleed.
|
||
2. Tear up picture of pope (only allowed if you're a guest host on
|
||
Saturday Night Live).
|
||
1. Go braughless.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten Proposed Movie Sequels For 1994
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
10. Remains of the Day II: Aww Mom, Leftovers Again?
|
||
9. Free Willy II: Sorry, We're All Out - Come Back Tomorrow
|
||
8. Sequel to The Firm - The Slightly Out of Shape
|
||
7. Wayne's World III: The End of The World Is Nigh
|
||
6. Sequel to The Man Without a Face: The Man Without a Penis -
|
||
The John Wayne Bobbit Story
|
||
5. Indecent Proposal II: For a Million Dollars, I'll Do It Twice!
|
||
4. The Last Action Hero II: Well, Maybe Not The LAST Action Hero . . .
|
||
3. Sleepless in Seattle II: Abusing the Tranqualizers
|
||
2. Sequel to The Pelican Brief - Porcupine Panties
|
||
1. Honey, I Ate the Kids
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten Returned Christmas Gifts
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
10. Chia Pet Marital Aid
|
||
9. Complete Boxed Set of Chevy Chase Show (1 VHS Tape)
|
||
8. Jurassic Pork Cutlets Gift Set
|
||
7. Michael Bolton & Barry Manilow: White Boys In the 'Hood Rap CD
|
||
6. Rush Limbaugh's "Let's Get Naked and Sweat" Exercise Video
|
||
5. John Wayne Bobbit Doll (returned for non-working Parts)
|
||
4. Playboy "Girls of 7-11" Christmas Calendar
|
||
3. New Domino's Pizza T-Shirt: "30 Min. Or, Well, It's Late."
|
||
2. Michael Jackson's Li'l Tykes Playhouse
|
||
1. Crotchless Trousers
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten Best Christmas Gifts This Holiday Season
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
10. John Wayne Bobbit doll (some assembly may be required)
|
||
9. For Collectors: Rare footage of Infomercial *Not* starring Cher!
|
||
8. Ted Danson remake of "The Jazz Singer"
|
||
7. Ross Perot CD (manufacturing error - skips and keeps
|
||
repeating the same thing over and over)
|
||
6. Senator Robert Packwood's Guide to Gettin' The Babes
|
||
5. Three words: Gifs, Gifs, Gifs!
|
||
4. Michael Jackson's Around-The-World Getaway tour
|
||
(Kids fly free!)
|
||
3. Find Fabio kid's activity book
|
||
2. 28.8k Modem/Fax/food dehydrator (from Ronco)
|
||
1. Beavis and Butthead's Book of Social Etiquette
|
||
(fire damage sale - 50% off)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten List
|
||
Copyright (c) 1993, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Top Ten Ways To Tell You're Having a Really Rough Day In BBS Land
|
||
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
|
||
|
||
|
||
10. SysOp changes your handle to "Ima Leech"
|
||
9. Microsoft releases Windows NT, and you're happy
|
||
8. Psych 101 paper gets juxtaposed with alt.sex file from Internet
|
||
7. President of local computer user group marries your sister
|
||
6. FIDO doesn't like your front-end mailer - and neither does Spot
|
||
5. Your wife finds your GIF collection
|
||
4. National debt pales in comparison to your upload/download ratio
|
||
3. You find your *wife's* GIF collection
|
||
2. Chastised by angry RIME conference host for being off topic
|
||
1. Artificial Intelligence program won't hot chat you
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÞÛ ÛÛÞÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÞÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛÛ
|
||
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|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜ ÅÅÅÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
|
||
ñ±±±±±±±±±±±± ű±± ÅÅű±± ű±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±¿
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÁÁÁÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÁÁÁÅ The Most Complete Daily Horoscope! ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÛÛÛ ÜÜÜÛÛÛ ÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ´ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÜÜÜ ÅÜÜÜ ÅÅÅÅÅ´ÜÜÜ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÜÜÜ ÅÅÛÛÛ ÅÜÜÜÜÜÜ Å´
|
||
ÃÅÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÂÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜ´
|
||
ÃÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÂÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ´ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÂÅÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÛÛÛÂÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÛßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßÛ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÂÅÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ¿
|
||
±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±ÂÛÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÛ±±±±±±±±Âű±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±Â´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
Ãþ Full Astrological ForecastÅÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÅÅÅþ Run as a Door or Bulletin´
|
||
Ãþ Personalized HoroscopesÅÅÅÅÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÅÅÅÅÅGenerator!ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
Ãþ Birthday CountdownÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÁÁÛ Û Û Û Û Û ÁÁÁþ Works with Any BBS or asÅ´
|
||
Ãþ ASCII, ANSI, and PCBÅÅÅÅÛßßß ßßß ßßß ßßßÛ ÅÅa Normal User Program!ÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÅÅColor BulletinsÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛ þ Gives LUCKY LOTTO Numbers´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÃÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ Available at the Programmer's Mega-Source BBS! - 516-737-4637 ÅÅÅÅÅÅÅ´
|
||
ÀÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÝ Home of DavisWARE and the one and only GameNET! ÞÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÁÙ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÝÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛßÜ ÜÜßßÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛßÛÛÛßßÜÜÜßßÝ ÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
Þ ßßÜÜßßÛÛÛÛÛÛßßß ßÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÜÜÜ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÞÝ ßÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
Ý ÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛ The Programmer's Mega-Source! Û
|
||
Û ÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛ Home of DavisWARE and Û
|
||
Þ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝßÞÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßßßßÜÛÛÛ The one and only GameNET! Û
|
||
ÞÝÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÜÛÜßßßßßßÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ßÛÛ Call today!! Û
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜßßßßßÛÛÛÛÛßßßßÜÛÛÛÛÛÝÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛ 516-737-4637 Û
|
||
ÞÛßßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜßßßßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛ 14.4kbd/24hrs/Lots of files! Û
|
||
ÜÛÛÛÛÜÜÜßßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßÜßÛÛ Approved by BartMan! Û
|
||
ÛÞÛß ÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÜßßßßßßßßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜ
|
||
ÝÞÛÞÛÝßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛ ÜÜ
|
||
Û ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛ ÜÜÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛ ÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÞÝÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßßÜÜÜ ÜÜßßßßßßÜÜÜÜ ßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÜÛÜÜÞÜÜÛÝÜÛÛÜÜÞÜÜÝÜÛÛÛÝßÛÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÛÛÛÛÛÝÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛß ßßß ßÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜßßß ßßÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÜÜßÛÛßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ þ ÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
There are several different ways to get STTS magazine.
|
||
|
||
|
||
SysOps:
|
||
|
||
Contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS listed
|
||
elsewhere in this issue. Just drop me a note telling me your name,
|
||
city, state, your BBS's name, it's phone number and it's baud rate, and
|
||
where you'll be getting STTS from each month. If your BBS carries RIME,
|
||
Pen & Brush Network, or you have access to the InterNet, I can put you
|
||
on the STTS mailing list to receive the magazine free of charge each
|
||
month. If you have access to FIDO, you can file request the magazine.
|
||
If you don't have access to any of these services - or do but don't
|
||
wish to use this option - you can call any of the BBS's listed in
|
||
DISTRIBUTION SITES and download the new issue each month. In either
|
||
case contact me so that I can put your BBS in the dist. site list for
|
||
the next issue of the magazine.
|
||
|
||
(Refer to DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more detailed information about
|
||
the nets)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Users:
|
||
|
||
You can download STTS each month from any of the BBS's mentioned in
|
||
DISTRIBUTION SITES elsewhere in this issue. If your local BBS isn't
|
||
listed, pester and cajole your SysOp to "subscribe" to STTS for you.
|
||
(the subscription, of course, is free)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
If you haven't any other way of receiving the magazine each month, a
|
||
monthly disk subscription (sent out via US Mail) is available for
|
||
$ 20.00 per year. Foreign subscriptions are $ 25.00 (american dollars).
|
||
|
||
Subscriptions should be mailed to:
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Addison, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
* Special Offer *
|
||
|
||
[ Idea stolen from Dave Bealer's RaH Magazine. So sue me. <G> ]
|
||
|
||
Having trouble finding back issues of STTS Magazine? (This is only the
|
||
eighth issue, but you never know..)
|
||
|
||
For only $ 5.00 (count 'em - five dollars!) I'll send you all the back
|
||
issues of STTS Mag as well as current issues of other magazines, and
|
||
whatever other current, new shareware will fit onto a disk.
|
||
|
||
Just send your $ 5.00 (money order or check please, US funds only, made
|
||
payable to: Joe DeRouen) to:
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Dallas, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
Tell me if you want a high density 5 1/4" disk or a high density 3 1/2"
|
||
disk, please.
|
||
|
||
(The following form is duplicated in the text file FORM.TXT, included
|
||
with this archive)
|
||
|
||
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
||
|
||
Enclosed is a check or money order (US funds only!) for $ 5.00. Please
|
||
send me the back issues of STTS, the registered version of Quote!, and
|
||
whatever else you can cram onto the disk.
|
||
|
||
I want: [ ] 5.25" HD disk [ ] 3.5" HD disk
|
||
|
||
Send to:
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
________________________________________
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Submission Information
|
||
----------------------
|
||
|
||
|
||
We're looking for a few good writers.
|
||
|
||
Actually, we're looking for as many good writers as we can find. We're
|
||
interested in fiction, poetry, reviews, feature articles (about most
|
||
anything, as long as it's well-written), humour, essays, ANSI art,
|
||
and RIP art.
|
||
|
||
STTS is dedicated to showcasing as many talents as it can, in all forms
|
||
and genres. We have no general "theme" aside from good writing,
|
||
innovative concepts, and unique execution of those concepts.
|
||
|
||
As of January 1st 1994, we've been PAYING for accepted submissions!
|
||
|
||
In a bold move, STTS has decided to offer an incentive for writers to
|
||
submit their works. For each accepted submission, an honorarium fee
|
||
will be paid upon publication. Premium access to STTS BBS is also
|
||
given to staff and contributing writers.
|
||
|
||
In addition to the monthly payments, STTS will hold a twice-yearly
|
||
"best of" contest, where the best published stories and articles in
|
||
three categories will receive substantial cash prizes.
|
||
|
||
These changes took effect in January of 1994, and the first
|
||
twice-yearly awards will be presented in the July 1994 issue.
|
||
|
||
Honorariums, twice-yearly cash awards, award winners selection
|
||
processes, and Contributor BBS access is explained below:
|
||
|
||
|
||
HONORARIUM
|
||
|
||
Each and every article and story accepted for publication in STTS will
|
||
received a cash honorarium. The payment is small and is meant as more
|
||
of a token than something to reflect the value of the submission.
|
||
|
||
As the magazine grows and brings in more money, the honorariums will
|
||
increase, as will the twice-yearly award amounts.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Fiction pieces pay an honorarium of $2.00 each.
|
||
Poetry pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
|
||
Non-fiction* pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
|
||
|
||
|
||
You have the option of refusing your honorarium. Refused funds will be
|
||
donated to the American Cancer Society.
|
||
|
||
Staff members ARE eligible for honorariums.
|
||
|
||
* Non-fiction includes any feature articles, humor, reviews, and
|
||
anything else that doesn't fit into the fiction or poetry category.
|
||
|
||
|
||
TWICE-YEARLY CASH AWARD
|
||
|
||
Twice a year (every six months) the staff of STTS magazine will meet
|
||
and vote on the stories, poems, and articles that have appeared in the
|
||
last six issues of the magazine. Each staff member (the publisher
|
||
included) gets one vote, and can use that vote on only one entry in
|
||
each category.
|
||
|
||
In the unlikely event of a tie, the winners will split the cash award.
|
||
|
||
Winners will be announced in the July and January issues of the
|
||
magazine.
|
||
|
||
Anyone serving on the staff of STTS magazine is NOT eligible for the
|
||
twice-yearly awards.
|
||
|
||
Twice-Yearly prize amounts
|
||
--------------------------
|
||
|
||
Fiction $50.00
|
||
Non-fiction 25.00
|
||
Poetry 25.00
|
||
|
||
|
||
The winner in each category does have the option of refusing his cash
|
||
award. In the event of such a refusal, the entire sum of the refused
|
||
cash awards will be donated to the American Cancer Society.
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS BBS
|
||
|
||
Staff members and contributing writers will also receive level 40
|
||
access on Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. Such access consists of 2
|
||
hrs. a day, unlimited download bytes per day, and no download/upload
|
||
ratio. A regular user receives 1 hr. a day and has an download/upload
|
||
ratio of 10:1.
|
||
|
||
Staff and contributing writers also receive access to a special
|
||
private STTS Staff conference on the BBS.
|
||
|
||
|
||
LIMITATIONS
|
||
|
||
STTS will still accept previously published stories and articles for
|
||
publication. However, previously published submissions do NOT qualify
|
||
for contention in the twice-yearly awards.
|
||
|
||
Furthermore, previously published stories and articles will be paid at
|
||
a 50% honorarium of the normal honorarium fee.
|
||
|
||
|
||
RIGHTS
|
||
|
||
The copyright of said material, of course, remains the sole property
|
||
of the author. STTS has the right to present it once in a "showcase"
|
||
format and in an annual "best of" issue. (a paper version as well
|
||
as the elec. version)
|
||
|
||
Acceptance of submitted material does NOT necessarily mean that it
|
||
will appear in STTS.
|
||
|
||
Submissions should be in 100% pure ASCII format, formatted for 80
|
||
columns. There are no limitations in terms of lengths of articles, but
|
||
keep in mind it's a magazine, not a novel. <Grin>
|
||
|
||
Fiction and poetry will be handled on a pure submission basis, except
|
||
in the case of any round-robin stories or continuing stories that might
|
||
develop.
|
||
|
||
Reviews will also be handled on a submission basis. If you're
|
||
interested in doing a particular review medium (ie: books) on a
|
||
full-time basis, let me know and we'll talk.
|
||
|
||
ANSI art should be under 10k and can be about any subject as long as
|
||
it's not pornographic. We'll feature ANSI art from time to time,
|
||
as well as featuring a different ANSI "cover" for our magazine each
|
||
month.
|
||
|
||
In terms of articles, we're looking for just about anything that's
|
||
of fairly general interest to the BBSing world at large. An article
|
||
comparing several new high-speed modems would be appropriate, for
|
||
example, whereas an article describing in detail how to build your
|
||
own such modem really wouldn't be.
|
||
|
||
Articles needn't be contained to the world of computing, either.
|
||
Movies, politics, ecology, literature, entertainment, fiction,
|
||
non-fiction, reviews - it's all fair game for STTS.
|
||
|
||
Articles, again, will be handled on a submission basis. If anyone has
|
||
an idea or two for a regular column, let me know. If it works, we'll
|
||
incorporate it into STTS.
|
||
|
||
Writers interested in contributing to Sunlight Through The Shadows can
|
||
reach me through any of the following methods:
|
||
|
||
|
||
Contact Points
|
||
--------------
|
||
|
||
CompuServe - My E_Mail address is: 73654,1732
|
||
|
||
The Internet - My E_Mail address is: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
|
||
|
||
RIME - My NODE ID is SUNLIGHT or 5320. Send all files to
|
||
this address. (you'll have to ask your SysOp who's
|
||
carrying RIME to send it for you) Alternately, you
|
||
can simply post it in either the Sunlight Through
|
||
The Shadows Magazine, Common, Writers, or Poetry
|
||
Corner conference to: Joe Derouen. If you put a
|
||
->5320 or ->SUNLIGHT in the top-most upper left-hand
|
||
corner, it'll be routed directly to my BBS.
|
||
|
||
Pen & Brush Net - Leave me a note or submission in either the Sunlight
|
||
Through The Shadows Magazine conference, the Poetry
|
||
Corner conference, or the Writers Conference. If
|
||
your P&BNet contact is using PostLink, you can route
|
||
the message to me automatically via the same way as
|
||
described above for RIME. In either case, address
|
||
all correspondence to: Joe derouen.
|
||
|
||
WME Net - Leave me a note or submission in the Net Chat
|
||
conference. Address all correspondence to:
|
||
Joe Derouen.
|
||
|
||
My BBS - Sunlight Through The Shadows. 12/24/96/14.4k baud.
|
||
(214) 620-8793. You can upload submissions to the
|
||
STTS Magazine file area, comment to the SysOp, or
|
||
just about any other method you choose. Address all
|
||
correspondence to: Joe Derouen.
|
||
|
||
US Mail - Send disks (any size, IBM format ONLY) containing
|
||
submissions to:
|
||
|
||
Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Dallas, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Advertising
|
||
-----------
|
||
|
||
Currently, STTS Mag is being "officially" carried by over 90 BBS's
|
||
across the United States. It's also being carried by BBS's in the
|
||
United Kingdom, Canada, Portugal, and Finland.
|
||
|
||
Unofficially (which means that the SysOps haven't yet notifed me that
|
||
they carry it) it's popped up on literally hundreds of BBS's across the
|
||
USA as well as in other countries including the UK, Canada, Portugal,
|
||
Ireland, Japan, The Netherlands, Scotland, and Saudi Arabia.
|
||
|
||
It's also available via Internet, FIDO, RIME, and
|
||
Pen & Brush Networks.
|
||
|
||
Currently, STTS has about 10,000 readers worldwide and is available
|
||
to literally millions of BBSers through the internet and other
|
||
networks and BBS's.
|
||
|
||
If you or your company want to expose your product to a variety of
|
||
people all across the world, this is your opportunity!
|
||
|
||
Advertising in Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available
|
||
in four different formats:
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
1) Personal Advertisements (NON-Business)
|
||
-----------------------
|
||
|
||
Personal advertisements run $5.00 for 4 lines of advertising, with each
|
||
additional line $1.00. Five lines is the minimum length. Your ad can be
|
||
as little as one line, but the cost is still $5.00.
|
||
|
||
Advertisements should be in ASCII and formatted for 80 columns. They
|
||
should include whatever you're trying to sell (or buy) as well as a
|
||
price and a method of contacting you.
|
||
|
||
ANSI or RIP ads at this level will NOT be accepted.
|
||
|
||
Business ads will NOT be accepted here. These ads are for non-business
|
||
readers to advertise something they wish to sell or buy, or to
|
||
advertise a non-profit event.
|
||
|
||
BBS ads are considered business ads.
|
||
|
||
|
||
2) Regular Advertisement (Business or Personal)
|
||
---------------------
|
||
|
||
We're accepting business advertisements in STTS. If you're interested
|
||
in advertising in STTS, a full-page (ASCII or ASCII and ANSI) is
|
||
$25.00/issue. Those interested can contact me by any of the means
|
||
listed under Contact Points.
|
||
|
||
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($125.00) the sixth month is
|
||
free.
|
||
|
||
|
||
3) Feature Advertisement (Business or Personal)
|
||
---------------------
|
||
|
||
We'll include one feature ad per issue. The feature ad will pop up
|
||
right after the magazine's ANSI cover, when the user first begins to
|
||
read the magazine. This ad will also appear within the body of the
|
||
magazine, for further perusement by the reader.
|
||
|
||
A feature ad will run $50.00 per issue, and should be created in
|
||
both ANSI and ASCII formats.
|
||
|
||
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($250.00) the sixth month is
|
||
free.
|
||
|
||
|
||
4) BBS Advertisement (Business or Personal)
|
||
-----------------
|
||
|
||
Many BBS SysOps and users call STTS BBS each month to get the current
|
||
issue of STTS Magazine. These callers are from all over the USA as well
|
||
as Canada, Portugal, the UK, and various other countries.
|
||
|
||
Advertising is now available for the logoff screen of the BBS. The
|
||
rates are $100.00 per month. Ads should be in both ASCII and ANSI
|
||
format. We're accepting RIP ads as well, but only for the this
|
||
advertising option.
|
||
|
||
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($500.00) the sixth month is
|
||
free.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Advertisement Specifications
|
||
----------------------------
|
||
|
||
Ads may be in as many as three formats. They MUST be in ascii text and
|
||
may also be in ANSI and/or RIP Graphics formats.
|
||
|
||
Ads should be no larger than 24 lines (ie: one screen/page) and ANSI
|
||
ads should not use extensive animation.
|
||
|
||
If you cannot make your own ad or do not have the time to make your
|
||
own ad, we can make it for you. However, there is a one-time charge of
|
||
$10.00 for this service. We will create ads in ASCII and ANSI only. If
|
||
you absolutely need RIP ads and cannot create your own, we'll attempt
|
||
to put you into contact with someone who can.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Contact Points
|
||
--------------
|
||
|
||
|
||
You can contact me through any of the following addresses.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS
|
||
(214) 620-8793 12/24/96/14,400 Baud
|
||
|
||
CompuServe: 73654,1732
|
||
|
||
InterNet: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
|
||
|
||
Pen & Brush Net: ->SUNLIGHT
|
||
P&BNet Conferences: Sunlight Through The Shadows Conference
|
||
or any other conference
|
||
|
||
WME Net: Net Chat conference
|
||
|
||
PcRelay/RIME: ->SUNLIGHT
|
||
RIME Conferences: Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner
|
||
|
||
US Mail: Joe DeRouen
|
||
14232 Marsh Ln. # 51
|
||
Dallas, Tx. 75234
|
||
U.S.A.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
You can always find STTS Magazine on the following BBS's.
|
||
BBS's have STTS available for both on-line viewing and
|
||
downloading unless otherwise marked.
|
||
|
||
* = On-Line Only
|
||
# = Download Only
|
||
|
||
|
||
United States
|
||
-------------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Sunlight Through The Shadows
|
||
Location ........... Addison, Texas (in the Dallas area)
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Joe and Heather DeRouen
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 620-8793 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
(Sorted by area code, then alphabetically)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... ModemNews
|
||
Location ........... Stamford, Connecticut
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jeff Green
|
||
Phone ........... (203) 359-2299 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Party Line, The
|
||
Location ........... Birmingham, Alabama
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Anita Abney
|
||
Phone ........... (205) 856-1336 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Left-Hand Path, The
|
||
Location ........... Seattle, Washington
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Pruitt
|
||
Phone ........... (206) 783-4668 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Lobster Buoy
|
||
Location ........... Bangor, Maine
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Goodwin
|
||
Phone ........... (207) 941-0805 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (207) 945-9346 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Northern Maine BBS
|
||
Location ........... Caribou, Maine
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Collins
|
||
Phone ........... (207) 496-2391 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... File-Link BBS
|
||
Location ........... Manhattan, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Marcy
|
||
Phone ........... (212) 777-8282 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Poetry In Motion
|
||
Location ........... New York, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Inez Harrison
|
||
Phone ........... (212) 666-6927 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Wamblyville
|
||
Location ........... Los Angeles, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... John Borowski
|
||
Phone ........... (213) 380-8090 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Aaron's Beard BBS
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Troy Wade
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 557-2642 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Archives On-line
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Pellecchia
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 247-6512 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 406-8394 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... BBS America
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jay Gaines
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 680-3406 (9600 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 680-1451 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Blue Banner BBS
|
||
Location ........... Rowlett, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Richard Bacon
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 475-8393 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Blue Moon
|
||
Location ........... Plano, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Roger Koppang
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 985-1453 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Bucket Bored!
|
||
Location ........... Sachse, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Bellomy
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 414-6913 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Chrysalis BBS
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Garry Grosse
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 690-9295 (2400 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 783-5477 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Collector's Edition
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Len Hult
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Foreplay Online
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Sean Goldsberry
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 306-7493 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... New Age Visions
|
||
Location ........... Grand Prairie, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Joe Reynolds
|
||
Phone ........... <Temporarily Down>
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Old Poop's World
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Sonny Grissom
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 613-6900 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Online Syndication Services BBS
|
||
Location ........... Plano, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Don Lokke
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 424-8425 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Opa's Mini-BBS (open 11pm-7am CST)
|
||
Location ........... Plano, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Marshall
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 424-0153 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Texas Talk
|
||
Location ........... Richardson, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Sunnie Blair
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 497-9100 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... User-2-User
|
||
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... William Pendergast and Kevin Carr
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 393-4768 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (214) 393-4736 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Deep 13 - MST3K
|
||
Location ........... Levittown, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Slusher
|
||
Phone ........... (215) 943-9526 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Beta Connection, The
|
||
Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Reynolds
|
||
Phone ........... (219) 293-6465 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Bill & Hilary's BBS
|
||
Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Nancy VanWormer
|
||
Phone ........... (219) 295-6206 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... FTB's Passport BBS
|
||
Location ........... Frederick, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Karina Wright
|
||
Phone ........... (301) 662-9134 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... The "us" Project
|
||
Location ........... Wilmington, Delaware
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Walt Mateja, PhD
|
||
Phone ........... (302) 529-1650 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Hole In the Wall, The
|
||
Location ........... Parker, Colorado
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Fergione
|
||
Phone ........... (303) 841-5515 (16.8k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Right Angle BBS
|
||
Location ........... Aurora, Colorado
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Roark
|
||
Phone ........... (303) 337-0219 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Ruby's Joint
|
||
Location ........... Miami, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David and Del Freeman
|
||
Phone ........... (305) 856-4897 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... PUB Desktop Publishing BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Chicago, Illinois
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Gjondla
|
||
Phone ........... (312) 767-5787 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... O & E Online
|
||
Location ........... Livoign, Michigan
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Greg Day
|
||
Phone ........... (313) 591-0903 (14.4 k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Family Connection, The
|
||
Location ........... St. Louis, Missouri
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... John Askew
|
||
Phone ........... (314) 544-4628 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Pegasus BBS
|
||
Location ........... Owensboro, Kentucky
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Raymond Clements
|
||
Phone ........... (317) 651-0234 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Puma Wildcat BBS
|
||
Location ........... Alexandria, Louisiana
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck McMillin
|
||
Phone ........... (318) 443-1065 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Badger's "BYTE", The
|
||
Location ........... Valentine, Nebraska
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dick Roosa
|
||
Phone ........... (402) 376-3120 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Megabyte Mansion, The
|
||
Location ........... Omaha, Nebraska
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Todd Robbins
|
||
Phone ........... (402) 551-8681 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... College Board, The
|
||
Location ........... West Palm Beach, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Charles Bell
|
||
Phone ........... (407) 731-1675 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Treasures
|
||
Location ........... Longwood, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jim Daly
|
||
Phone ........... (407) 831-9130 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Flying Dutchman, The
|
||
Location ........... San Jose, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Chris Von Motz
|
||
Phone ........... (408) 294-3065 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Matrix Online Service
|
||
Location ........... San Jose, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Daryl Perry
|
||
Phone ........... (408) 265-4660 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Aries Knowledge Systems
|
||
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Waddell Robey
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 625-0109 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Doppler Base BBS
|
||
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Myers
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 922-1352 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Port EINSTEIN
|
||
Location ........... Catonsville, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... John P. Lynch
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 744-4692 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Puffin's Nest, The
|
||
Location ........... Pasadena, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Bealer
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 437-3463 (16.8k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Robin's Nest BBS
|
||
Location ........... Glen Burnie, Maryland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Robin Kirkey
|
||
Phone ........... (410) 766-9756 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Chatterbox Lounge and Hotel, The
|
||
Location ........... Penn Hills, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... James Robert Lunsford
|
||
Phone ........... (412) 795-4454 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Signal Hill BBS
|
||
Location ........... Springfield, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Edwin Thompson
|
||
Phone ........... (413) 782-2158 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Exec-PC
|
||
Location ........... Elm Grove, Wisconsin
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Mahoney
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 789-4210 (2400 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 789-4315 (9600 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 789-4360 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... First Step BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Green Bay, Wisconsin
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Phillips
|
||
Phone ........... (414) 499-7471 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Lincoln's Cabin BBS
|
||
Location ........... San Francisco, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Pomerantz
|
||
Phone ........... (415) 752-4490 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Uncle "D"s Discovery
|
||
Location ........... Redwood City, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Spensley
|
||
Phone ........... (415) 364-3001 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... File Cabinet BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... White Hall, Arkansas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Harmon
|
||
Phone ........... (501) 247-1141 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Starting Gate, The
|
||
Location ........... Louisville, Kentucky
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Ed Clifford
|
||
Phone ........... (502) 423-9629 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Darkside BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Independence, Oregon
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Seth Able Robinson
|
||
Phone ........... (503) 838-6171 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Last Byte, The
|
||
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Robert Sheffield
|
||
Phone ........... (505) 437-0060 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Leisure Time BBS
|
||
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Riddell
|
||
Phone ........... (505) 434-6940 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Base Line BBS
|
||
Location ........... Peabody, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Keith
|
||
Phone ........... (508) 535-0446 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... High Society BBS
|
||
Location ........... Beverly, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck Frieser
|
||
Phone ........... (508) 927-3757 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... High Water Mark, The
|
||
Location ........... Wareham, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Joseph Leggett
|
||
Phone ........... (508) 295-6557 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... PandA's Den BBS
|
||
Location ........... Danvers, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Patrick Rosenheim
|
||
Phone ........... (508) 750-0250 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... SoftWare Creations
|
||
Location ........... Clinton, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Linton
|
||
Phone ........... (508) 368-7036 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Extreme OnLine
|
||
Location ........... Spokane, Washington
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jim Holderman
|
||
Phone ........... (509) 487-5303 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Silicon Garden, The
|
||
Location ........... Selden, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Andy Keeves
|
||
Phone ........... (516) 736-6662 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Appomattox BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... New Lebanon, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Everette
|
||
Phone ........... (518) 766-5144 (14.4k baud dual standard)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Integrity Online
|
||
Location ........... Schenectady, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Ginsburg, Jordan Feinman, Dave Garvey
|
||
Phone ........... (518) 370-8758 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (518) 370-8756 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Tidal Wave BBS
|
||
Location ........... Altamont, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Josh Perfetto
|
||
Phone ........... (518) 861-6645 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Mission Control BBS
|
||
Location ........... Flagstaff, Arizona
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Kevin Echstenkamper
|
||
Phone ........... (602) 527-1854 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Chopping Block, The
|
||
Location ........... Claremont, New Hampshire
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dana Richmond
|
||
Phone ........... (603) 543-0865 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Casino Bulletin Board, The
|
||
Location ........... Atlantic City, New Jersey
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Schubert
|
||
Phone ........... (609) 561-3377 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Princessland BBS
|
||
Location ........... Wenonah, New Jersey
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Pamela & Rick Forsythe
|
||
Phone ........... (609) 464-1421 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Revision Systems
|
||
Location ........... Lawrenceville, New Jersey
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Lauda
|
||
Phone ........... (609) 896-3256 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Hangar 18
|
||
Location ........... Columbus, Ohio
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Dunlap
|
||
Phone ........... (614) 488-2314 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Channel 1
|
||
Location ........... Cambridge, Massachusettes
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Brian Miller
|
||
Phone ........... (617) 354-3230 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (617) 354-3137 (16.8k HST)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Arts Place BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Arlington, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Ron Fitzherbert
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 528-8467 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Bubba Systems One
|
||
Location ........... Manassas, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Mosko
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 335-1253 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Market Hotline, The
|
||
Location ........... Rodford, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Mintun
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 633-2178 (28.8k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Pen and Brush BBS
|
||
Location ........... Burke, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Lucia and John Chambers
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 644-6730 (300-12.0k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 644-5196 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Sidewayz BBS
|
||
Location ........... Fairfax, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Cutrona
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 352-5412 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Virginia Connection, The
|
||
Location ........... Washington, District of Columbia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Tony McClenny
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 648-1841 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Vivid Images Press Syndicate
|
||
Location ........... Wise, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Allio
|
||
Phone ........... (703) 328-6915 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Imperial Palace, The
|
||
Location ........... Augusta, Georiga
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Deutsch
|
||
Phone ........... (706) 592-1344 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Zarno Board
|
||
Location ........... Martinez, Georiga
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Saari
|
||
Phone ........... (706) 860-7927 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Anathema Downs
|
||
Location ........... Sonoma County, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Sadie Jane
|
||
Phone ........... (707) 792-1555 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Happy Trails
|
||
Location ........... Orange, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Don Inglehart
|
||
Phone ........... (714) 547-0719 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... InfoMat BBS
|
||
Location ........... San Clemente, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Gibbs
|
||
Phone ........... (714) 492-8727 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Cool Baby BBS
|
||
Location ........... York, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Krieg
|
||
Phone ........... (717) 751-0855 (19.2k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... T&J Software BBS
|
||
Location ........... Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Tom Wildoner
|
||
Phone ........... (717) 325-9481 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Ice Box BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Kew Gardens Hills, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Darren Klein
|
||
Phone ........... (718) 793-8548 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Systemic BBS
|
||
Location ........... Bronx, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mufutau Towobola
|
||
Phone ........... (718) 716-6198 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (718) 716-6341 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Paradise City BBS
|
||
Location ........... St. George, Utah
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve & Marva Cutler
|
||
Phone ........... (801) 628-4212 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Regulator, The
|
||
Location ........... Charleston, South Carolina
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Coker
|
||
Phone ........... (803) 571-1100 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Straight Board, The
|
||
Location ........... Virginia Beach, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Ray Sulich
|
||
Phone ........... (804) 468-6454 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (804) 468-6528 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... TDOR#2
|
||
Location ........... Charlottesville, Virginia
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Short
|
||
Phone ........... (804) 973-5639 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Valley BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Myakka City, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Daymon
|
||
Phone ........... (813) 322-2589 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Syllables
|
||
Location ........... Fort Myers, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jackie Jones
|
||
Phone ........... (813) 482-5276 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Renaissance BBS
|
||
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... David Pollard
|
||
Phone ........... (817) 467-7322 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
# BBS Name ........... Second Sanctum
|
||
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Robbins
|
||
Phone ........... (817) 784-1178 (2400 baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (817) 784-1179 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Dream Land BBS
|
||
Location ........... Destin, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Ron James
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 837-2567 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Hurry No Mo BBS
|
||
Location ........... Citra, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Roy Fralick
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 595-5057 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Star Fire
|
||
Location ........... Jacksonville, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Bruce Allan
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 260-8825 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Tree BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Ocala, Florida
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Frank Fowler
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 732-0866 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (904) 732-8273 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Outlands, The
|
||
Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates
|
||
Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Moonbase Alpha BBS
|
||
Location ........... Bahama, North Carolina
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Steven Wright
|
||
Phone ........... (919) 471-4547 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Outlands, The
|
||
Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates
|
||
Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Legend Graphics OnLine
|
||
Location ........... Riverside, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Joe Marquez
|
||
Phone ........... (909) 689-9229 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Locksoft BBS
|
||
Location ........... San Jacinto, California
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Carl Curling
|
||
Phone ........... (909) 654-LOCK (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Image Center, The
|
||
Location ........... Ardsley, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Clive
|
||
Phone ........... (914) 693-9100 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... SB Online, Inc.
|
||
Location ........... Larchmont, New York
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Eric Speer
|
||
Phone ........... (914) 723-4010 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Canada
|
||
------
|
||
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Beasley's Den
|
||
Location ........... Mississauga Ontario, Canada
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Keith Gulik
|
||
Phone ........... (905) 949-1587 (9600 baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Canada Remote Systems Online
|
||
Location ........... Toronto Ontario, Canada
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Rick Munro
|
||
Phone ........... (416) 213-6002 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Encode Online
|
||
Location ........... Orillia Ontario, Canada
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Peter Ellis
|
||
Phone ........... (705) 327-7629 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
United Kingdom
|
||
--------------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Hangar BBS, The
|
||
Location ........... Avon, England, United Kingdom
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Jason Hyland
|
||
Phone ........... +44-934-511751 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Pandora's Box BBS
|
||
Location ........... Brookmans Park, England, United Kingdom
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Dorothy Gibbs
|
||
Phone ........... +44-707-664778 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Almac BBS
|
||
Location ........... Grangemouth, Scotland, United Kingdom
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Alastair McIntyre
|
||
Phone ........... +44-324-665371 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Finland
|
||
-------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Niflheim BBS
|
||
Location ........... Mariehamn, Aaland Islands, Finland
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Kurtis Lindqvist
|
||
Phone ........... +358-28-17924 (16.8k baud)
|
||
Phone ........... +358-28-17424 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Portugal
|
||
--------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name .......... Intriga Internacional
|
||
Location .......... Queluz, Portugal
|
||
SysOp(s) .......... Afonso Vicente
|
||
Phone .......... +351-1-4352629 (16.8k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name .......... B-Link BBS
|
||
Location .......... Lisbon, Portugal
|
||
SysOp(s) .......... Antonio Jorge
|
||
Phone .......... +351-1-4919755 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Mailhouse
|
||
Location ........... Loures, Portugal
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Carlos Santos
|
||
Phone ........... +351-1-9890140 (14.4k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
South America
|
||
-------------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Message Centre, The (Open 18:00 - 06:00 local)
|
||
Location ........... Itaugua, Paraguay
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Prof. Michael Slater
|
||
Phone ........... +011-595-28-2154 (2400 baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Saudi Arabia
|
||
------------
|
||
|
||
BBS Name ........... Sahara BBS
|
||
Location ........... Dammam City
|
||
SysOp(s) ........... Kais Al-Essa
|
||
Phone ........... +966-3-833-2082 (16.8k baud)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
SysOp: To have *your* BBS listed here, write me via one of the
|
||
many ways listed under CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this
|
||
issue.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS Net Report
|
||
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
|
||
All rights reserved
|
||
|
||
|
||
Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available through FIDO,
|
||
INTERNET, RIME, and PEN & BRUSH NET. Check below for information on how
|
||
to request the current issue of the magazine or be put on the monthly
|
||
mailing list.
|
||
|
||
|
||
FIDO
|
||
|
||
To get the newest issue of the magazine via FIDO, you'll need to
|
||
do a file request from Fido Node 1:124/8010 using the "magic" name
|
||
of SUNLIGHT.
|
||
|
||
|
||
INTERNET
|
||
|
||
To get on the STTS mailing list, do the following:
|
||
|
||
|
||
Send internet mail message to:
|
||
|
||
|
||
STTS-REQUEST%textalk@egsner.cirr.com
|
||
|
||
With either the following in the body:
|
||
|
||
ADD SUBSCRIBE JOIN
|
||
|
||
To be added to the list or:
|
||
|
||
UNSUBSCRIBE DELETE REMOVE
|
||
|
||
To be removed from the list.
|
||
|
||
|
||
If you're a SysOp *Please* be sure to send me a note telling me your
|
||
BBS's name, your name, your state and city, the BBS's phone number(s)
|
||
and it's baud rate(s) so I can include you in the list issue's
|
||
distribution list.
|
||
|
||
Send the note to: Joe.DeRouen@Chryalis.ORG
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
If you wish to FTPMAIL request the magazine, please send mail to:
|
||
|
||
FTPMAIL%textalk@egsner.cirr.com
|
||
|
||
With the following in the body:
|
||
|
||
GET <filename.ext>
|
||
|
||
Where <filename.ext> would be SUN9408.ZIP or whatever issue you're
|
||
wanting to retrieve. The current issue available will correspond to
|
||
whatever month you're in. Septemeber 1994 would be SUN9409.ZIP, etc.
|
||
|
||
|
||
RIME
|
||
|
||
To request the magazine via RIME, ask your RIME SysOp to do a file
|
||
request from node # 5320 for the current issue (eg: sun9408.ZIP, or
|
||
whatever month you happen to be in) Better yet, ask your SysOp to
|
||
request to be put on the monthly mailing list and receive STTS
|
||
automatically.
|
||
|
||
PEN & BRUSH NET
|
||
|
||
To request via P&BNet, follow the instructions for RIME above. They're
|
||
both ran on Postlink and operate exactly the same way in terms of file
|
||
requests and transfers.
|
||
|
||
|
||
I'd like to thank Texas Talk BBS and Archives On-Line BBS for allowing
|
||
me to access the Internet and Fido (respectively) from their systems.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ÝÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛßÜ ÜÜßßÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛßÛÛÛßßÜÜÜßßÝ ÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
Þ ßßÜÜßßÛÛÛÛÛÛßßß ßÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÜÜÜ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÞÝ ßÜÜÜÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
Ý ÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝ ÞÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛ The Programmer's Mega-Source! Û
|
||
Û ÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛß ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛ Home of DavisWARE and Û
|
||
Þ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝßÞÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßßßßÜÛÛÛ The one and only GameNET! Û
|
||
ÞÝÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÜÛÜßßßßßßÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ßÛÛ Call today!! Û
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜßßßßßÛÛÛÛÛßßßßÜÛÛÛÛÛÝÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛ 516-737-4637 Û
|
||
ÞÛßßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜßßßßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛ 14.4kbd/24hrs/Lots of files! Û
|
||
ÜÛÛÛÛÜÜÜßßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßÜßÛÛ Approved by BartMan! Û
|
||
ÛÞÛß ÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÜ ÜÜßßßßßßßßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜ
|
||
ÝÞÛÞÛÝßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛ ÜÜ
|
||
Û ßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛ ÜÜÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛ ÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÞÝÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
|
||
ÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßßßßÜÜÜ ÜÜßßßßßßÜÜÜÜ ßßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÜÛÜÜÞÜÜÛÝÜÛÛÜÜÞÜÜÝÜÛÛÛÝßÛÜßÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÛÛÛÛÛÝÛÛÛÛÞÛÛÛß ßßß ßÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜßßß ßßÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÝÞÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛßßÜÜßÛÛßßÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ þ ÛÛÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ
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End Notes
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Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
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All rights reserved
|
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Whew! It's nearly midnight on Thursday, July 7th, two days after
|
||
deadline, and I'm just finishing up the July issue of STTS.
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||
|
||
Somehow, I thought that this "Best Of" issue would be easy. The staff
|
||
would just get together, vote, and that would be that. I hadn't thought
|
||
about the difficulty of getting everyone together (especially when one
|
||
of them lives in California!), tabulating all the votes once I have
|
||
them, and putting it all together in a presentable manner.
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||
|
||
Well, next time I will. Or at least that's the plan. <Grin>
|
||
|
||
Thanks to all of you readers out there (we have over 10,000 now!) for
|
||
sticking with us, answering surveys, and remaining interested enough to
|
||
seek us out via this ever-growing, always-wacky super information
|
||
highway!
|
||
|
||
Until next month, when things return to some semblance of normalcy (and
|
||
we don't have to vote on anything!) this is your ever-faithful,
|
||
always-loveable Editor-in-Chief saying, "So long!"
|
||
|
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Joe DeRouen,
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||
July 7th 1994
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