General Chaos

And they’re off! Yes, the race has begun. It’s a bit like one of those cycle races with strange names, where the competitors dawdle around for a while and then it all happens at the last moment and the winner crosses the line. Of course I’m talking about the 4th July General Election for the UK parliament. I’m not going to discuss the choice of dates – sooner is good – or Sunak’s drenching. I’m just hoping the Tories sink. I’m not looking forward to six weeks of endless nonsense (and lies) being spouted by spokespeople from most sides. The Tories will spend their millions on trying to convince us that the chaos of the last few years, their bungling of major decisions and their mean and bigoted treatment of all sorts of people shouldn’t stop them being given the chance to go on for another five years. The current Labour lead in the opinion polls will no doubt ebb away but I hope that it remains above the mark needed for a victory. Not that I’m in love with the Labour party or its leadership, but I will support (almost) anything to get rid of the Tories.

What I’m really looking for is a party that tells the truth. Firstly that climate change, environmental degradation and biodiversity loss, is real, critical and must be dealt with. Adopting a green economy will cost no more than pursuing the present course of supporting fossil fuel companies while increasingly paying for the damage caused by climate change, etc. Secondly, that Britain is no longer an Imperial superpower. In fact it is weak, vulnerable and lacking any real influence. We need to be close to a larger more influential group such as, er, Europe. Thirdly, yes, the world is an increasingly dangerous place (see point one) with more wars the anticipated result. Advances in AI and the associated technologies are only going to increase the insecurity (deepfakes, etc). It will require an almost superhuman intellect to navigate us through that future and avoid us becoming ever more embroiled in conflicts including nuclear war. I don’t see someone of that stature in any party, mainly because modern politics does not attract the honest, altruistic intellect.

So, my hopes for a change of government are tempered by the expectation that what we will end up with will probably only be a little better. I am also annoyed that my vote is unlikely to have much effect. For the last 40 years I have lived in safe (if that is the correct term) Tory constituencies which have not changed hands while I have lived in them (although twice I moved to a constituency that had recently been Lib Dem). It will take a big swing to Labour to oust our present insufferable incumbent but I do have my fingers crossed. Proportional representation would be an improvement but I cannot see any winning party making that change.

Sit back and enjoy the show.

Let’s forgot everything else, sit back and enjoy an idyllic summer sunset (last year)

The topic for this week’s writing group was “to be frank” in honour of a member’s birthday. It should have offered endless opportunities but I struggled for inspiration. In the end, the following piece of dialogue emerged from my fingers. It deals with death. Now, while I often write about destruction and the end of civilisation I don’t usually deal with the intimate matter of my or anyone’s demise. It is quite a while since my parents’ deaths and, to date, no one close to me has died. Nevertheless, I do think about death quite a lot, mainly because it is closer than it used to be (logically) and inevitable (certainly). The thought of my own death has always been scary for two main reasons.

First of all is the fear of pain. I have only suffered bad pain on a small number of occasions; a few times when I had gallstones prior to having my gall bladder removed (5 years ago as it happens, while my hero Iain Banks was dying from gall bladder cancer), and once when I had a tooth removed which set off my trigeminal nerve – that was headbanging agony. So, I don’t relish the prospect of pre-death pain.

My second fear is the knowledge that I won’t wake up again; the thought that when I die my consciousness, my “self”, ends. It is illogical, because going to sleep, being unconscious, being dead are all the same – we lose awareness. I’ve been under anaesthetic a couple of times and I was totally unaware of the process once I started to count 1…2…3. But of course I woke up and knew that I had been unconscious even though I remembered nothing. I know there is no waking up from death – so what is there to fear? Nevertheless, the approaching loss of oneself makes me feel anxious. Silly isn’t it. Actually I think it is the cause of all the “life after death” beliefs. People, me included, cannot accept that they will cease to be and make up all these myths to calm themselves. They are all wishful-thinking as far as I am concerned. There is no heaven, or hell, or reincarnation. Our atoms disperse (eventually) and that’s the end of it.

So, here is “To Be Frank“. Actually the title has got little to do with the story, though I could have made Michael a Frank, but that didn’t seem right for the group.

To Be Frank

“To be frank, Michael, I didn’t think I would do it here.”

                “Do what?”

                “Kill you. You are panting rather a lot.”

                “Well, it was a steep climb.”

                “Why did you do it in your state of health?”

                “I heard that if it was clear tonight, we might see the aurora in the north. I’ve never seen it and there’s much too much light in town so I thought I’d come up here.”

                “You’re certainly out of sight of the town. Look at the stars.”

                “So many. I haven’t seen such a number in years. I wish I’d come up here more often. Just smell the nature. It feels a long way from civilisation.”

                “It’s the trees and other plants that do that. Nature is good for you.”

                “Except for the climb up here. That took it out of me. it used to be easy. When we were kids, we used to play up here a lot.”

                “I remember, Michael. Cowboys and Indians, running around, whooping, firing pop guns and rubber-tipped arrows.”

                “That’s right, before we learned that the Indians were Native Americans and the cowboys were murderous European invaders.”

                “Rather took the fun out of it didn’t it.”

                “There were other reasons for coming up here. I used to come with Jess.”

                “When you were courting.”

                “Sort of. We had our first kiss right here on this bench, and a bit of fumbling in the grass, just there.”

                “I don’t suppose kids bother to come this far these days to do it.”

                “No opportunities for us back home. Eyes on us all the time. That’s why we got wed so quickly.”

                “Well, you’re on your own tonight, Michael.”

“Shame Jess can’t be here too. I miss her.”

“That’s natural. How are you feeling?”

                “A bit bushed. I’ll sit and watch the sky for a while. See if the lights do come.”

                “Relax. All the time in the world before you have to go.”

                “Am I imagining it?”

                “What, Michael?”

                “Is the sky not quite so dark over there. I see a green glow, no orange, and there’s purple too. It’s spreading, moving.”

                “Must be what everyone was going on about. Pretty isn’t it.”

                “Fancy that. A bit of activity on the Sun, all those miles and miles away, causing lights in the sky down here. Tonight, of all nights.”

                “You’re right. It is sort of special.”

                “I’m glad I’ve seen it. It makes a fitting end.”

                “I suppose it does, Michael. I’ll let you go now. There’ll be a little bit of pain, but you won’t notice when I stop. Like you hardly noticed that I’ve been with you all your life, keeping a steady beat, well mostly. People said you were heart-broken, but it wasn’t the loss of Jess that damaged me. Perhaps you should have walked up here more often.”

………………………………   

Jasmine contemplates

A few days into the new year, how’s it going for you? I am trying not to think too much about the severe problems that face us in the next year and beyond but I am being positive and determined about the future of myself and those I am close to. The thing is, when one gets to a certain age, looking ahead also involves thinking about mortality. Thankfully I haven’t had to attend many funerals in recent years, just older relatives who had reached a good age, but death is inevitable. We all know that, but find it difficult if not impossible to think that it applies to us. Someone said yesterday that we think of ourselves as immortal, and that is true too. How do we acknowledge a truth (we all die) and yet deny it (it won’t happen to us)?  That perhaps is one of the wonders of being living, sentient  beings.  We can hold two conflicting ideas in our heads and not crash like a computer trying to divide one by zero.  It’s no wonder that humans came up with quantum theory and Schrodinger’s dead/alive cat

I know that some people accept the thought that life is finite and short compared to recorded history and the existence of the universe.  They get on with it and don’t let the idea of impending death worry them. I am not one of those people. I don’t believe in life after death so the thought of coming to a halt, a sleep from which one doesn’t awaken, rather shocking. Nevertheless, I see that dwelling on one’s certain demise is not healthy. So I try to make every day a rewarding one. That includes relishing a lie in bed, sitting on the sofa reading newspaper, magazine or book, or enjoying a pint in a pub as well as working hard on the next novel or story, taking part in one of the number of activities I’m signed up for, or passing the time with my loved one(s).  And the calendar is full, for, however long we may or may not have, we all make plans.

A final showing for the festive look.

January 1st occurs at an arbitrary point on the Earth’s orbit around the Sun, on its spiralling voyage through the universe, yet we see it as a fresh start, a new beginning, a time to look at ourselves anew, and make resolutions. I didn’t make any new ones but I did update my to-do list. I hope that my recently completed novel, The Pendant and The Globe, will be deemed publishable and will find a willing publisher (I’m not self-publishing). I want to write the next Jasmine Frame novel, the fifth, provisionally titled Impersonator. There is another novel, stalled for the last year, currently called Malevolence, which I’d like to see if I can move forward.  And then there are the articles and short stories – so many ideas and good intentions. One resolution should have been to give more time to writing but I know I wouldn’t be able to keep to it.

Anyway, the theme for the writing group this first week of January was appropriately, “new beginnings”. My thoughts returned to something not original, a new(ish) colony on a new(ish) planet orbiting a distant star. The snippet that follows, (a beginning perhaps although goodness knows if I will ever follow it up) is a brief glimpse of that idea. If it did become a novel, this whole piece would probably need re-writing.  But here it is:

Fresh Start

Fresh Start, population fifty-eight. The uniform shape and size were the only sign that the dozen, small hemispheres of foamcrete huddled in the lee of the small hill were constructions.  Their colour matched the bare volcanic rock from which they were formed.  The Road ignored them and went straight on to the beach a couple of hundred metres further. The Visitor turned off the road and stopped her quadbike by the nearest of the domes. She took a final glance at the small screen on the control panel. It now read fifty-nine inhabitants. The only other piece of information was the distance she had travelled. It was seven hundred and forty-two kilometres from New Beginning.
She swung off the saddle and brushed dust from her environment suit. The dust was the same grey as the buildings, the same grey as the Road. Looking back the way she had come it was hard to discern the route. The Road was an idea rather than a feat of engineering. Major obstacles removed, a couple of rivers bridged, guide transmitters installed, it snaked across half the island continent, linking the only two habitations on the only land mass of Second Chance, second planet orbiting the red star, Hobson’s Choice.
There was just the rustle of her boots in the dust as she walked between the domes. The hill sheltered the village from the onshore breeze. There was no sign of the other fifty-eight humans. Among the cluster of domes, she approached one and pushed the door open. Inside was a room which had circular tables constructed of the same material as the walls. She tugged the mask from her face.
“Service!” she called.
A door on the opposite side of the room opened. A man stood in the doorway. He wore a pair of orange overalls.
“Oh, it’s you. You came back.”
“Said I would.”
“S’pose you’ll be wanting a drink.”
“Yeah. Thirsty work riding a quad from Newbie.”
The man retreated and emerged a few moments later with a cup and a jug, both grey. He put the cup down on a table and poured a green liquid into it.
“There you are then. Our latest brew.”
The visitor approached the table lifted the cup and drank the contents in one gulp. She put the cup down.
“Hasn’t improved.”
The man chuckled. “Nope. Not a lot you can do with fermented algae. More?”
The Visitor nodded.  The cup was re-filled. The Visitor settled onto a stool and lifted the cup to her lips. She took a small sip.
“So, why are you back?” the man asked. “Newbie too exciting for you?”
The Visitor shook her head. “No, and it wasn’t the prospects of your company that drew me back either.”
“What then?”
“I have news.”
“News that couldn’t be beamed via the Hestia?”
“News Hobson didn’t want spread.”
The man frowned, set the jug on the table and sat on a stool next to the Visitor. “What news?”
“We’re on our own. There’s no second ship coming from Earth.”

……………………………..