Showing posts with label Pinky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pinky. Show all posts

Monday, November 24, 2008

595. Snow



Ariel watched the snow fall in Kyra's quiet eyes, snow globes lost in thought. The snow fell in large flakes, an army of parachutes from the endless grey, falling by ones, landing, reuniting, as one. From the heavens as if postcards from Zoe and Von, snow fell across the land, a pristine blanket, silent warmth in a thousand messages, each flake, falling, falling, softly falling.

Bravo appeared in the distance as a metallic mountain in winter, sitting as a home sits with warm lights glowing, spilling forth memories and comfort, a place to die if one were inclined. Word had gone forth and Goldie and Pinkie were waiting on the dock, buzzing like bees in the soft flurries. Their metallic skins glistened with surrendered flakes, their mechanical eyes fluttering in familiar clicks and clacks as if crying, a sound missed all the more now in the hearing.

The snow fell on Bravo and on Goldie and when Kyra emerged from the transport, it fell on her too. Her black hair, speckled with snow, each flake alighting on head and shoulder like birds, perching as if they belonged, as if they were home too. The snow fell in waves, heavy, as it seemed now, from outside, standing in the cold. Ariel stuck her tongue out, catching flakes, her left hand tightly holding Kyra's while her right held Em's, a foal bursting in energy, delighted to be alive. As Ariel tugged, Kyra looked at Em, "We're home."

"Home," said Em. "Home." Her voice faded. (scene fades to Trev)

Sunday, January 20, 2008

430. Black Blood

Em sat her bed, silent and still as a painting on the wall, Trev called away to the Dyad. With bandaged eyes, she reached for her brush and sketchpad and as a mountain stream inexorably gushes down to the valley below, pain flowed from heart to ink to paper with brush strokes short and curt. Ripping the page and tossing it like the changing wind tosses an autumnal leaf to the barren soil, she attacked the pad again with thrust and parry, ink splattering on sheets, the damage a spray of black blood on the alter of their still warm whey commerce. Again, paper ripped from moor and sent fluttering to floor as spooked quarry before the angst of hunter foul, ink drying as hope shed, forgotten, abandoned.

"Ms Em," said Pinky, "are you okay?"

Slinging another page to the floor Em pulled a rapid intake of breath through nostrils flaring white, her chest expanding as if to burst. As quickly, she exhaled, dropped her shoulders and looking exasperated, flung her brush as a dagger toward an enemy neither seen nor present. The tinny sound of hollow wood clacking unyielding metal echoed between breath heavy and hum urgent. Pinky hovered closer. "Get away from me! Get away. Please, just leave."

"Ms Em--"

"Can't you see," cried Em, ripping the bandages from her eyes. "Can't you see," pointing to her swollen eyes.

"Ms Em, please--"

"Please what?"

Pinky froze.

"Please what? What?! Look at me. These eyes. What good are these eyes. What good?"

"Ms Em, I don't understand."

"He's gone. I don't expect you to understand. How could you? You're a mechanical."

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

398. Feel the Rain


















Em: Pinky, what is it?


Pinky: Oooohhh, Ohhhhh, Oooohhh!

Em: Pinky, what's going on?

Pinky: Oh my, oh my, mutter butter, mutter butttttter.

Em: Pinky!

Pinky: A note, there is a note. A note I say.

Em: P-I-N-K-Y!!!

Pinky: Mmmmmmmmmm . . .

Em: Pinky?

Pinky: Says . . .

Em: WHAT?

Pinky: No one else can feel it for you.

Em: Is that it?

Pinky: Besides the dress. Yes.

Em: Dress! What dress?

Pinky: The one Trev just left.


Wednesday, October 17, 2007

365. Who's Who

Story Synopsis:

“The Story” begins when the author, while on vacation in the Caribbean, stumbles upon a few survivors of an alien race (Hynerians). Everything that follows is a retelling, or a recreating as some might say, of who and why and how. The story follows a mosaic format, not a linear one. Each chapter, or post, stands on its own, giving reflection to a small piece of the whole. We learn that eight Hynerians were forced to vacate their dying planet. The story showcases their external (adventures) and internal (pyschological) search for home and meaning in a universe dark and bleak. The relationship between Kyra and Papa (her grandfather) form the centerpiece of the story, a light unto the darkness, which is recounted episodically in remembrances.




Main Characters:
(Each character's name is hyperlinked to their original sketch or painting)

Kyra: a young female Hynerian raised by her Zing Tao Grandfather at Valla, she assumed leadership of Bravo.* Kyra is gifted with the rare ability to play in the field of “Love,” and thus influence events in extraordinary ways. Her parents, both marine-biologists and obsessed with the climate changes and their careers, were almost non-existent in her life; she carries within her both great joy and great sadness. Physically, she can best be imagined as a cross between Aeryn Sun (Farscape) and Aki Ross (Final Fantasy). There is more “me” in Kyra’s personality than any of the other characters. She is the literary love of my life, with her coal black hair and brilliant sapphire eyes, tight and taut, forever dressed in form-fitting melanic venuisan leather.

*Bravo-Four-Zero was the original vessel assigned to Kyra and the others. On a mission to rescue another Hynerian vessel, Bravo was attacked, incapacitated and abandoned (although still extant). Their second vessel, of Kulmykian make, is called Tranquility.

Papa (Zeke): Kyra’s grandfather. Papa entered the Zing Tao Order as a young Hynerian and eventually became the only Hynerian to achieve Ninth Order rank. Although we learn of some of his adventures in the early part of the story, Papa is mainly seen after retirement interacting with a young Kyra. He discovers early that her gifts far exceed his own and he pours his heart into cultivating love and wisdom within Kyra. He secures passage for her on Bravo, while he stays behind on Hyneria. A present day Paul Newman would play Papa. When I think of Papa, I most often think of my maternal grandfather.

Rog: Raised on a ranch in the southern reaches, Rog is a happy-go-lucky, good-looking, fun-loving, optimistic rustic cowboyish type with a killer smile. A younger Dennis Quaid would be a perfect fit for Rog. Rog has a heart of gold, falls in love with Yul, loves to pilot the ship, drink snoot with Von and dream of the next adventure. Rog sometimes talks before he thinks but would give you the shirt off his back if you asked. Rog is modeled in part after my uncle Calvin, who served two tours in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot.

Yul: She is the “Ginger” (with a rough edge) in this story. She exudes sexuality and most of the gratuitous sex in the story involves her. She was a twin and not the chosen one. Her father abused her emotionally. She could do no right and her sister could do no wrong. In fact, her sister was supposed to be on Bravo, not Yul. Yul is an emotional rollercoaster and sees the world through the thick filters of her upbringing, which is to say she needs love desperately but has trouble trusting anyone and is quick to blame herself for all that goes wrong. She loves Rog dearly, although their relationship has had its share of ups and downs. Not sure who would play Yul in the movie.

Von: Von is the oldest member of the Bravo crew, a contemporary of Papa and a Zing Tao. In service with Papa and the Zing Tao in the great Dauculus campaign he incurred a debt to Papa. In repayment of that debt, Von agreed to accompany Kyra on Bravo and watch over her. He had to leave his only son behind to fulfill this debt, a choice that has left him bittersweet. Von would be played by Max Von Sydow.

Trev: Trev is one of the youngest members of the crew. Boyishly handsome but somewhat immature and shy, Trev was in medical school at the time of evacuation. In the early part of the story, he was the medic. We still don’t know a lot about Trev and know almost nothing about his life on Hyneria. He appears to have a somewhat repressed personality.

Emy: Em’s father was a great sea captain on Hyneria and she spend a lot of time with him on the open sea. She is the Mary Ann to Yul’s Ginger so to speak. She has no airs, salt of the earth heart and personality and had a very good and strong relationship with both her mother, who died and whose essence she carries in a brooch, and her loving father. Em spends a lot of time writing letters back to her father and frets at the very real prospect she will never have children. In a recent accident, Em was blinded. She also is an artist. Em, in summary, is the girl next door.

Mairi: Mairi is a Châtelaine, which, although not developed yet in the story is a cross between a Geisha and a Companion (Inara’s character in the Firefly series). To be fair to Châtelaines, they are rather more sophisticated in their training and skills than either of the two examples above. One day, the story will take us into more detail. Mairi comes from a posh background, is rather soft-spoken but has a backbone of steel; in other words, she is tough as nails, although you'd never guess from her beautiful external appearance. She is extremely intelligent and, of all the females onboard, has the most classically attractive features. Unlike Rog and Em, Mairi is used to the finer things in life and has an appreciation for subtle details and nuances. To date, other than the fact that she is a “child of the shells” and her deformity is not physical but of the “mind” (she is a Null, which means she has the ability to blank out all telepathic communication in her vicinity), we know very little about her. Her nullness introduced her to Dr X, who raped and tortured her and who is now acting as her mentor. The relationship is complex and difficult to understand.

Kieran: Kieran is the only crew member to have passed away. He contracted the deadly Animus virus early in the story, and although the crew did everything in their power to save him, he slipped into the next life. He has, however, remained as a cameo figure present in spirit and sometimes manifests himself in times of trouble. Kyra was falling in love with Kieran, the one member of the crew she saw as her equal or at least close enough. She struggled to recover from her attempt to save him (which forced her into the next realm and back again) and spent upwards of two weeks in a coma. Kieran was also a "child of the shells." His deformity: two hearts. Kyra and Mairi are the only two crew members Kieran converses with, although he once encouraged Yul to return to the heart that beat for her.

John: John Discovery, aka Johnny Disco, is Kulmykian. Married to Cait with one daughter (Ariel), John was a senior level military commander who also happens to also be a neuro-surgeon. He is attracted to Kyra and walks the fine line between what he knows is right and the emotions just underneath. We tend to see a good bit of ambiguity in his relationship with her. John was the golden boy on Kulmyk until somewhere along the line he angered someone very high up in the political realm. He and Rog were railroaded on trumped up “Infidelity” charges and were to be summarily executed before they were rescued. In fleeing his home planet, he joined “the crew” upon their new ship, the Tranquility (Bravo was incapacitated in an earlier mission). Cait and Ariel are with him. George Clooney plays John in the movie.

Goldie and Pinkie: Mechanical valets to Kyra and Em respectively.

Taren and Dr X: Arc’teryxian, which is to say, part of a civilization at war with Kulmyk. It is still unclear who the good guys are and who are the bad guys. The story has not resolved that fact currently. Suffice it to say, Taren is now a member of Tranquility and it looks as if Dr X may be joining them.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

348. A World Beyond

Em felt what could not be heard, Kyra coming down the hall. With a tap of cane, Pinky buzzed into the corridor surprising Kyra with a metallic sense of urgency, bouncing up and down as if out of breath, a smile eliciting thought. Pointing her stubby metal articulated arm toward her master’s open door, she seemed without words as one in the presence of greatness loses the connection between thought and tongue.

Em sat still in white. Kyra approached in silence like the night. One stood. One sat. One saw. One felt.

+Bare your soul and allow the heavy cloth of poccoon guilt to fall before the play of eternal and everlasting truth and love. The divine light awaits.+

Kyra placed her hand on Em’s forehead. Warmness radiated from skin to mind to heart and spine. Eyes blind fluttered with images of a world beyond this world, of mother smiling and father proud and as a feather sways in air to ground, her head gave way to gravity, the appearance of the divine overloading her mortal constitution, as pillow soft cushioned the fall.

Kyra looked at Pinky as if to assure, before bending over and kissing the peaceful expanse of Em’s quiet forehead. In the blink and click of Pinky’s mechanical eye, Kyra vanished; and, in the air, a breath of clean fresh sea air remained.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

346. Incoming

“We’ve got incoming!” yelled Rog, his strained voice rising in disbelief, moments before the Tranquility absorbed a rain of multihued death as beautiful as dangerous. Bones shook and ached in step with squealing bulkheads, pain matching sound. “Frail, frail, frail!!!”

“Put the shields up!

“They are! I think.”

John staggered over to the panel, looking drunk with shock as his legs quivered under a moving floor, his arms wailing as one on a tightrope about to lose balance.

“Mommy, what is happening?” cried a tearful Ariel, curling in her mothers arms tight as baby in womb, seeking the last refuge of a child scared.

“Some bad guys have made a mistake. Your father is about to explain--” a bellowing concussion silenced mother and child alike under flickering lights appearing as photon confetti in still eyes. (the camera pans above the dark two shapes, one wrapped within the other, the ship shakes in contrast to the peaceful sleep of bodies unmoving)

“Who is attacking us?” barked Von.

“Rog?” commed Yul, her voice sounding unYul like, “what’s going on?”

“Not now!”

“I’m scared.”

“Rog, the shields! Now! Now! Shiott!

Light filled the forward bridge such to render colors mute and sound ethereal. Heads throbbed and eyes burned (symphonic music plays as we see lips move without sound, of faces contorted with effort, everything in slow motion; from her quarters we see Kyra on bended knee, a halo of light around her bowed head)

Trev rushed into the hall, disheveled, of cloth and hair and directly into the unlooking arms of Mairi, the two falling in a tangle of limbs upon the forgotten cold floor. Fear squeezed out the past, suffocated it in the urgent and in what seemed odd, trembling lips sought comfort in simultaneous tenderness as arms sought release in grip tight.

Em sat in her quarters, not moving. “Ms Em,” intoned Pinky. "Ms Em? Ms Em!”

Em just sat, still, cane in her left hand, her right hand on her thigh, back straight.

“Goldie?” Pinky called again. “Goldie!?” There was no answer.

“Von, I need your help.” John’s voice sounded placid, which, in and of itself, lent an air of unreality to the cacophony of sound and light. “See that panel to your right?”

“Yes.”

John’s eyes looked heavy and words failed him.

Von turned his head.

John’s lifeless form puddled, still as night in a meteor shower.

Rog looked at Von like the second string quarterback looks at the second string tight end with eyes that say, what do we do now.

“Prepare a boarding party.” If the voice could have smiled, he would have. “And Taren?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I want you to lead the way.”

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

275. So Long, Bravo


“Is that everything Pinky?” asked Rog, a bit more sullen than she had ever seen him. Pinky blinked her big eyes in the affirmative as if unable to speak and Rog wondered if he needed as much as wanted the mech to feel, to feel what he felt too numb or too angry or too confused to process. “That’s all. Tell Goldie I appreciate everything the two of you have done. Are you sure we’ve retrieved everyone’s personal effects?”

“Yes Mr. Rog. Everything is present and accounted for,” responded Pinky, her normal silly playfulness clearly absent.

Rog sighed at the irony of that thought coming from a mech. Everything, he mused. Everything indeed was not accounted for, not present. What had happened to Kyra, Em and Von was anyone’s guess but one thing was clear—they were not on Bravo. Nor were there any clues; no note, no sign, no transmission, no nothing to indicate what might have happened. For all intents and purposes, Kieran might just have well swooped down and scooped them up into the heavens. Wouldn’t be the first time; still, only one small problem with that theory--Where were the bodies?

“Will there be anything else Mr. Rog?” asked Pinky.

Rog shook his head.

Pinky hovered to the exit. Rog waited for her to leave before he opened the box in front of him, almost embarrassed to sift through someone else’s personal belongings. He was sure his father would not have approved. Not your place, he would have said in a solid tone that needed no further explanation.

Thoughts of packing this up and sending to next of kin flashed through Rog’s mind and he smiled, again at the irony, of how wonderful it would be if there were next of kin to notify. Everything is relative he thought as the smile faded as quickly as it had come. There were no next of kin, for any of them, which also meant their was no father to tell him what to do or not to do.

The first box he picked up was unmarked. Inside he found several sketches, which told him this belonged to Em and his thoughts flashed back to their mission together on Neraj and the time they spent waiting for the Tear to open again. It was the first time she had shared her art with him, the first time she had opened up, talking about her father and sailing the open sea. Em was as sweet and innocent and genuine as they came—and tough too, he learned later, which only made the nagging thought of what had happened all the more painful.

Picking up the first sketch, Rog sighed. Bravo. Unfinished. Everything always seemed to be unfinished. Always a loose end here, a regret there, be it word or action. And now Bravo. Rog walked to the port window. There she sat. Silent. Quiet. Dark. They would be leaving soon and Bravo would not. Rog felt his heart beat and he looked at her golden hull as if Bravo was looking back at him as a puppy does with eyes that say don’t leave me. And it was or so it seemed. Bravo was home, had been home for more than eighteen months and in a few hours, like Hyneria before, she would fade from sight, abandoned, rejected, useless.

Rog looked down. Em’s sketch was crushed in his leathery hands, the damage done. Where is home he thought, as images of Yul popped into his head.

“Rog,” commed John, “we’ve got an incoming message. You might want to see this.”

Categories: Story, Rog, Pinky, John Discovery, Bravo-Four-Zero

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

141. Pinkster

“Emy, Emy, wake up,” said Pinky, poking and prodding the sleeping young Hynerian as she hovered above her bed, the soft pink light from her oculators illuminating the room like a gentle nightlight.

“Go away Pinkster,” moaned Emy, half awake. She pulled the warm sheets over her head and wiggled back into the fetal position, hoping Pinky would get the message.

“I think you’ll want to hear what's going on,” cooed Pinky. “I got the lowdown directly from Goldie. You’d be mad at me if I didn’t tell you.” Pinky was a gift from her seafaring father. He had purchased the cogitor south of the Nusian peninsular on one of the trips Emy had stayed home to attend an art seminar. Pinky was going to be a birthday gift until the sudden climate change; as such, she became the last material exchange between father and daughter.

“Pinky, we’ve been over this before. I’m not interested in the gossip you exchange with Goldie. Besides, can’t you see, I’m sleeping. Now go away.” Dang cogitors, thought Em, if they can program them to gossip why the frail can't they program them to understand the most basic of Hynerian needs, namely, sleep.

“Emy, my darling dear child, this isn’t gossip, it’s a plan and if you don’t wake up, it’s going to happen without you. You see, Rog is—“

“A plan? What are you talkin bout Pinkster?” said Emy, sitting up in bed, her hands corkscrewing the sleep from her eyes. “This better be frailing good or we’re going to have another talk about your non-sentient access.”

“I know, I know, I do love to exchange potential useful information on occasion.”

“Pinky!”

“Promise. No gossip. Rog went to rescue Mairi and has got himself in a hornet’s nest of trouble. Poor lad, I know he means well. Such a handsome--”

“Pinky, please.”

“Sorry child, I do get carried away. As I was saying, Rog is in trouble. Las fire you know. Not good. Outnumbered I hear.”

“P-i-n-k-y!!”

“Yeah. Sorry. Kyra, Von and Yul are going on a rescue mission. They’re over in Von’s quarters right now. If you don’t hurry, you’re going to miss them.”

Emy jumped out of bed. The thought of not being included fueled her desire to be seen as an equal. After the mission on Neraj she felt a certain bond with Rog, shared experiences no one else could claim. Besides, he liked her art work. That alone was worth rescuing she reckoned.

Kyra came tumbling out of Von’s quarters and right into Emy causing both to fall to the floor. “Emy, what are you doing up?” asked Kyra, caught off-guard.

“You’re not going without me,” said Emy.

“I don’t think you want to go where we are going,” responded Von.

“Thanks for making assumptions about what you think I want or don’t want,” said Emy.

“We don’t have time for this,” interrupted Yul with just a slight irritation in her voice.

“I can handle a weapon as well as anyone here,” said Emy, her tone indignant. “What do you think my father taught me on those long journeys south of Point Unknown? Yul’s got a pulse rifle, model 945, last used in the Vespusian campaign--single charge, multi-fire. Von, you’ve got duel proton magnum las blades, modified for Blue Onyx divisions and rumored, I believe, to be issued exclusively for Zing Tao use. And Kyra,” Emy paused, “I don’t know what the frail that is in your left hand.”

Kyra looked up at Von who just shrugged his cheeks with a slight tilt of his head.

“It’s a Ji Shield,” said Kyra. “Von, get her equipped and be quick. We’ve got to move.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa,” snapped Yul. “You’re not—“

“She’s coming Yul. We need all the firepower we can manage,” answered Kyra.

Emy smiled. She knew opportunity when she saw it. Sticking it to Yul was just a bonus.

“Come with me,” said Von. “I think I have just the thing for you.”

Categories: Story, Pinky, Emy, Kyra, Von, Yul