Re-Visiting An Old Pleasure

•May 1, 2010 • Leave a Comment

While looking for an old “Tinking” which I remember parking somewhere on a Myst or Uru-themed forum, I came across an old favorite where I could spend hours just looking and comparing and letting my imagination free-fly:

It’s called Jeff Russell’s STARSHIP DIMENSIONS, and it is still mind-blowing.

Captain Mal Reynolds' mostly trusty cargo ship,
scourge of The Alliance and blue-gloved spooks.

I had originally explored the place looking for a good visual reference as to the size of Serenity, the ship used in the cult television series FIREFLY and the associated movie, SERENITY. I actually found it there, that ship.

Why would that be mind-blowing? Lemme tellya.

You can drag and drop the Serenity’s image, and really see how it dwarfs STAR WARS’ Millenium Falcon and an Imperial Class Shuttle, or that an Imperial AT-AT Walker is taller than it, or that TIE fighters would easily fit/flit into its main hold.

Serenity ummm, hides behind a Jawa Sandcrawler.

You can see that if the Serenity were parked behind a Jawa Sandcrawler, it would stick out as if it were the Sandcrawler’s jutting head and firefly butt.

You can compare it to a Vorlon fighter from BABYLON 5, and see that the fighter is about the size of Serenity’s firefly class engine section. You can see that a STARSHIP TROOPERS plasma bug would give it pause, if they met on a planetary surface … for more than one reason.

It would NEVER be able to pass through a stargate, and it would be most thoroughly SQUASHED into roadkill, if STARGATE‘s Goa’uld Ha’Tak happened to land on it. A real windshield splat possibility.

And that is why STARSHIP DIMENSIONS is such a cool site.

It would be even cooler if one could cut and paste the Serenity to see exactly how it compares to the major starships in various sci-fi universes, like Enterprise, a Klingon Bird of Prey, or Moya.

Oh, but you can, if you look hard, find Serenity on the “1x” grid, where those behemoths parade.

So, go look. Act like a draggin’ droppin’ fool. Get your mind blown, too!

T’nk System – Giraffe Nebulae

•April 26, 2010 • Leave a Comment


A looooong time ago, I networked a set of planets which I then terraformed…sorta…into a vast…really vast…system of service planets.

These planets are now incredibly ancient, since I had learned not only how to use my warp bubble to traverse universes, but to travel time.

These planets were located throughout a massive group of star nursery nebulae, and furnished herculean services for widely scattered planets, colonies, settlements, space stations and starships.

The nebulae swarmed with evolving star-like objects, infinite structures of gas, plasma, dark matter, etc. They seethed with energy in all its forms.

As a group they had a striking resemblance in my mindseye to…a giraffe. Thus I dubbed them…yes, The Giraffe Nebulae.

On 22 April 2010, I acquired information that pointed toward another bizarre “success” for Tink, the Oracle of the MultiUniversal Guild of Doofi…
a photo found on the Hubble Telescope site. “Starry-Eyed Hubble Celebrates 20 Years of Awe and Discovery”.

It is spectacular.

Source: Hubblesite.org

The larger the image…the more spectacular it gets. For maximum stun factor follow this link and pick a size: Release Images

Just be sitting down, or where you can drink in the details with the wondrous, imagination-driven eyes of a child, especially if you choose the “Highest Quality” download option.

Once you’ve really looked at the thing, contemplate my speculation:

Do you suppose Hubble has come across Tink’s Giraffe Nebulae?

Time to Dig Up an Old Rant…Again?

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment


In light of general behaviors …
that are destructive to a functional society…
that are still expanding…
that are amplifying as each generation…
is further removed…
from beneficent practices…
and honorable behaviors…

I get a gut feeling…
that an old rant on my disheveled old website…
is due for a redux here.

Actually though…
I would rather it be pointed out…
not reproduced here.

That would be a gigantic overhaul…
and I would be even less bubble-centered…
than I have managed to be now.

It’s called “Erosion of Honor”…
and also offers refresher definitions…
for ummm, mission-creeped words.

EROSION OF HONOR orignially posted in 1996…
still good.

White Owl Stowaway…snippet 05

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment


As much as she had fancied herself ready for whatever the Terran pirate might do, she really was not. She felt his mind snap awake, but it was surrounded by an opaqueness she could not broach.

Was that his infamous ability to display a quiet and deadly calm? The next few seconds would tell, she guessed. As if in answer, he instantly reached behind him with his free arm, in search of a piece of her for use in peeling her off his back. At least she hoped that was his goal. She certainly did not intend to damage him.

When he found nothing within his grasp, he rolled over on her and tried again. Again she managed, in spite of nearly non-existent breathing, to evade his clawing fingers. Then he sat up.

She couldn’t believe the ease with which his core muscles suddenly raised his long torso with her still plastered to his back. Her weight added a little over a hundred and ten pounds to his off-center load, and it felt like she had made no difference at all.

As soon as he was sitting, he again tried to reach her with his free arm, but still could not quite catch a piece of her. He decided to pull his legs up, knees headed for his chest, and in effect trapping her feet between his thighs and lower abdominal wall.

Tink tried to rearrange her feet, to relieve some of the torque on her ankles, but he then leaned a bit to one side, settled some weight on his free arm, and both her feet were free to re-hook at will. Then the leg opposite the pillar he’d made of his arm extended and bent at the knee to form a second pillar.

As soon as she saw that, she guessed what he intended. He would raise his body off the ground, balancing on the two pillars, and would try to twist free of her foot hooks. She hung on tightly, pressing against his neck with her arm, and dug in with her feet.

However, after a rapid series of inserting his free leg through the gap formed by the pillars, raising his backside into the air, and then straightening up, he had not tried to twist. Her attempts to throw him off balance enough to fall over head first had not fazed him.

He just stood up, and intently began tugging at her arms and legs, apparently trying to slide her around to the front of his torso. Quickly, but cautiously, Tink rehooked her ankles around each other, and tightened both upper and lower grips.

Again she could not get past that opaqueness at the edges of his mind. Why would he try to bring her around to his front, instead of scraping her off with part of the White Owl’s bulkhead…where her nanos could easily swarm him?

Curiosity spiking, she allowed him to move her, let him think he’d done it with his strength. BIG mistake.

With her now plastered to his chest, he dropped to his knees, sat on his heels, pushed forward against her, and soon had her hands trapped under his on the deck. He moved his hands outward, which forced her torso backwards until her spine rested on his knees.

She could feel her over-stretched thighs, abs and back shriek their protest over the sudden extension. She hoped he wouldn’t continue bending her much longer, wouldn’t injure or rupture something. She unhooked her feet and allowed them to dangle alongside his hips. Her thighs went zombie in gratitude.

Above her, close enough that she could feel his panting breaths hitting her neck like giant BBs, his baritone began to growl, “I oughta go ahead…and snap your spine…like a f***ing light spike.”

He stopped and took a few deep air-starved breaths – just long enough to allow her to cut through her pain, and really see his hard steel blue eyes focused on her bluey-greeny-gray ones. She began to rethink her hope of remaining skeletally intact.

Then he erupted again. “There’s no frigging way…you would spark away from your precious ship…right now.” His voice took on a strange hollow overtone. “But now… I feel like using you…as a female-shaped pillow…I need to…sleep this off.”

Anger flared stronger in his big eyes, as he forced himself to continue. “Gonna relax onya…fer a while…dream up…a proper payback forya…fer letting yer ungodly no-see-ums…screw around in me innards.”

By now, he’d extended his legs behind him, and his weight rested full on her chest. Tink couldn’t get enough air into her lungs to reply. It was all she do to turn her head aside, open her mouth wide, and suck in enough air to breathe.

Her vision began to darken, so she grabbed for his mind with as much energy as she could summon.

She flooded him with a mix of her overwhelming pain, along with a faint, strangely pleasant feel to the shapes of his body pressing on her, and any memory she could dredge up about the male myth for a hot female, followed by the crushing pain of rejection by a pseudo lover thought to be a more permanent companion. Wouldn’t that, she hoped on the edge of losing consciousness, render him useless at anything, especially anger?

She succeeded in replacing his anger with sleepy confusion, and she felt his grip on her hands and arms weaken somewhat. Without hesitation, she wiggled sideways.

Maybe she would have enough time to free up enough space to draw a breath begfore “sparkle”-ing him back into the barge.

At any rate, she wasn’t at all expecting what the toughened spacer bounced right back into her own mind.

The Dooryard

•April 23, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I’ve always had a safe place in my mindseye, one of those places in your imagination where you can go to de-fuse anxiety malfunctions. It’s not unlike that Secret Garden visited by the kids in Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel.

I go to my Dooryard often, since it has, over time, become so very “real” in my mindseye. I can visualize and insert pieces into the place as I need them. My concentration on that, finding just the right thing to add, placing it in the proper location, and making it a part of something in my mindseye, inevitably distracts me from whatever it is that has me on the edge of poking my head into the sand in an attempt to escape something I don’t want to face yet.

The original Dooryard at the edge of surrealityMy “Dooryard” originally evolved from a photo I’d found and bought from Corbis Images. It was of a lush and mossy glade at the base of tall and regal redwoods, and it evoked ultimate serenity for me.

When I first saw it, I could feel my mind sliding into the scene, using childhood memories of the redwoods with which I’d mingled in Muir Woods as a catalyst.

The air was infused with a yellow-green glow from light filtering thru needles high above. I could feel the glade’s coolness ripple across my skin, smell the fragrance of forest floor and scattered blooms, hear squirrels barking orders at interlopers, birds singing of turf, and the low hissings of intermittent breezes noodling with leaves or small branches.

However, I knew something was missing – a way to come and go, a portal.

Look closely at the picture above, and my addition of an ornately carved teak and rosewood door will become apparent.

For the rest of my first installations, check out the section dedicated to it at my Goofedy-Homestead web site, here.

White Owl Stowaway…snippet 04

•April 22, 2010 • Leave a Comment


The big spacer was definitely freaked. His hooded steel blue eyes popped open wide, rolled around looking for a focus, and found nothing but floor…

Then he suddenly felt the floor with odd parts of his body, and realized he was mostly nude, except for a strange new singlet. And there were odd uncomfortable lumps beneath his chest and hips. He wriggled, trying to get off them, and that was when he realized there was weight on his back…weight which was wrapped around him, locked onto him.

An unbidden panicky sensation of Bot Innard Interference swelled, threatened to blot out his sentience, but long experience in controlling his reactions kicked in and he stubbornly caught it up, and froze it. His pupils contracted from huge bottomless Get the Bots Out pits to dark Calculating Odds of Usefulness barrels.

He knew he was still on The White Owl. He’d worked exceedingly hard to sneak past scanning sensors and bots of all kinds to get on board, and his senses told him he had not yet been thrown off the ship. His senses easily told him that he was no longer in an outboard cargo bay, but somewhere deeper within.

However, first things first.

He channeled his thoughts, analyzed the sensations he was getting from the weight, its distribution, and shape. He realized what it was: The White Owl’s owner, the second most important thing he obsessed over, an intriguing mind wrapped in a mysterious package he found impossible to put out of his head. That was what owned the warm shape latched onto his back.

He tried reaching behind his shoulders with his free arm, looking for something he could use as leverage or a possible control point, but could not grab anything. Her clothing was too smooth, too form-following, and she flipped her long wavy hair out of his reach.

He rolled over, taking her around with him, a move which effectively pinned her beneath his back. Then he tried again to find something to grab. Except for a fleeting touch of wavy hair spread out on the deck, which he couldn’t snag, again there was nothing. The only result of that manuever was that her feet were no longer locked onto his hips, they were locked to each other at the ankle above his penis.

He gathered his abdominal and thigh muscles, focused them, coordinated them, and threw himself up with a loud grunt, redhead and all, into a sitting position. Now she clung to his back with gravity no longer her ally, and she latched on even tighter.

“Why,” he growled in a precise baritone, “are you latched on to me?” He could feel her breath against his back, but she said nothing, which irritated him more than anything that had happened in getting aboard.

White Owl Stowaway…snippet 03

•April 19, 2010 • Leave a Comment


At the first contact between Tink’s “little friends” and one of his long fingers, the Terran’s whole body jerked.

In the same instant, Tink caught a panick spike forming up in the edges of his mind. “Make it gentle, guys,” she warned. “He’s gonna come up in ‘fight or flight’, and I’d rather that be later than sooner.” The nanos that had yet to enter through the Terran’s fingers swarmed up over his forearm, his neck, his face, and sunk through the first unused patch of skin they found.

“I’ll try to hold on to him if he chooses sooner.” While still speaking to her nanobots, she had rolled the big man over onto his stomach and straddled the small of his back.

Then, once her feet were locked into place beneath his hips, ready to slide on around him and intertwine her ankles, she also bent forward to pin one of his thick arms against his side with one of her sleek ones.

She reached around his neck with her other arm, then on down across his chest until her hands grasped wrists. The total effect was that her weight was squarely placed, tight against his back, and securely locked there with both arms and legs.

Tink just lay there, quite aware of his contours, waiting for something to move; monitoring his mind, looking for telltales that signaled his climb to consciousness. She hoped that he could feel her warmth against him, and would absorb it, so that it would lengthen the time before he returned to coherent thought. She mostly hoped, though, that the nanos could repair all internal damage, and rebuild the blood he had lost to massive bruising.

He was a beefy man, and likely too agile, or too skilled, for her to easily use his own weight against him. She was pretty sure, though, that she could slow him considerably with her weight on his back, where he could not easily hit or grab her.

She hoped he’d be disoriented and ineffectual because she did not want him hurt any further. She figured he’d not be easy to keep subdued, but she’d done the impossible so many times before, that she was quite willing to try.

A short interval passed, and she could see and feel his skin begin to reflect successful repairs. She continued to send panic-cancelling waveforms to truncate his spikings, and bought time for the nanos to finish.

Aware of his reputed ability to effect an appearance of quiet and deadly calm, Tink fervently hoped it would be nowhere in the mix when he came to.

Suddenly, there it was: A mix of panic and reflex reactions swelling to overwhelm his unconsciousness. It was driven by sensations, real or imagined, of the bots’ repair activities. She warned the nanos to vacate, “NOW!”

Simultaneously she ordered the White Owl to create a Terran/Trench EVsuit inside the stowaway’s cargo barge. As soon as the Owl confirmed that the suit had been placed, and was properly sized to fit him, she let go of the Terran’s mind.

That was when Ye Olde “all hell broke loose” happened.