Sorry I'm late!

My apologies for posting late and for posting a lame story. While I love writing, short stories are simply not my medium at all. You might note that this is less of a short story and more of a prologue to some sort of disco/sci-fi epic. Well, enjoy. Or not.

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Close your eyes and imagine the future. No, wait. Back up. Imagine the future the way they did back in the 1960s. You know, that dated look of short polyester skirts and gogo boots, gaudy upholstery and extraneous fins and tubes of no practical use whatsoever tacked on to various household appliances to make them appear futuristic.

On the off chance that you’re picturing a future similar to that found in the original Star Trek, well, you might just be on to something. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Star Trek got it right. Well, except for those ridiculous outfits the men wore. I mean, if we ladies are to be traipsing about the galaxy in miniskirts and knee-high boots, our male shipmates damn well better show some skin. So remove any images of a future in which some sort of Captain Kirk sits commandingly in his captain’s chair in an unflattering yellow polyester top. Just pick that thought up and toss it. Replace that chair with a gold velvet couch, and upon it place not one, but two muscular young men, naked from the waist up. And you may as well picture them with their muscular flesh nicely oiled. Space can be a sticky place at times; it’s good to be greasy. (Don’t scoff; I’m the one writing to you from the future. What would you know about it? Trust me; their oiled chests are just as much a necessity as my short skirt.) Now, go ahead and place me – short skirt and all – on the couch directly between these young men.

Our sofa sits amidst a room of various control panels, much like those on the original Star Trek, analog and everything. You twenty-first cats think with such smug superiority about your digital this and your digital that, but just try to break the light barrier with that nonsense and see what happens. Analog is the wave of the future my friend.

So, you got the image? Good. Now lower the lights, turn on the disco ball and get ready to rock the galaxy. And whatever you do, don’t sneeze, or you’ll blow this image smithereens. I’d hate to have to explain all this again. Now, hold on tight, and let me show you what the universe has to offer.

The future through the eyes of the past

Sorry for missing my day - this past week was the final week of Hell Month at work, and by the time my "day" rolled around, I was feeling pretty burnt out. Anyway, for readers who might not have been following along this week, the challenge was to view this image, and to then concoct a story behind it. I'm embarrassed to say that despite my love of sci-fi and the fact that I once co-founded an alien/space-related cult, I could come up with nothing nearly as interesting as the things my bloggers-in-crime posted below. So instead I've decided to tell you what first popped into my head when I saw that cover.

In 2000, I was living in St. Petersburg, Russia. I had gone to Russia on a student visa, but in order to stay for the summer I needed to change to a business visa. In order to do this, one must leave the country. So, I took the train up to Finland, where I spent three days in Helsinki getting a new Russian visa. Helsinki is an expensive place - especially to someone who'd just spent five months in the inexpensive paradise that St. Petersburg was back in 2000. I was also shelling out a large chunk of cash to have my visa expedited. The point is, I was poor. Somehow (I must have an instinct for this or something) I found my way to a section of Helsinki full of thrift stores and used book stores. In one of the former, I found a lime green skirt. In one of the latter, I found a stack of sci-fi paperbacks from the twenties and thirties. In English. And really cheap. As I was always on the hunt for English-language reading material, I snapped them up.

I wish I still had those books (I left them in Russia due to lack of room in my suitcases), as they provided a fascinating glimpse into how people in the early part of the twentieth century expected the future to turn out. One of the books held a collection of short stories, one of which was set in the future, and centered around the conflict which had arisen between people who preferred wheels (cars) and those who preferred feet. In one scene, a man whose legs had shrunk to useless flippers tried to run down a grandmother who dared to cross the street on foot. The grandmother, in turn, dropped her bag of groceries, whipped out a large handgun, and blasted away at the approaching windshield. Both driver and grandmother were killed. The tale definitely implied that the advent of the automobile would bring about the end of civilization. Can you imagine?

DIY Pulp Magazine

The year is 2050. The British government, still upset after 90 years about their lack of involvement in the original space race, now has the upper hand. Our plot picks up with their government working on a top-secret experiment to make colonization on the moon possible. The machine breaks down components in the rock to make oxygen, and uses any ice found in the process for water. The invention is being closely guarded, for now that they (finally) have the technology, they fear it being stolen by other countries.

The invention, 02H20 is being housed in an abandoned airfield. To be sure that it is kept secret, a machine is on the premises that emits waves in a 2-mile radius, making anyone within that radius violently ill (That's what that thing is in the upper left corner behind the title). The scientists and other workers all wear suits to block out the rays, but in case a brave (and iron-stomached) soul wanders in, there are guards with guns stationed about.

Our G-Man Detective is actually an American spy (though he does a terrible job - what with running around in uniform and all). Determined to be on top of everything (and deplete its resources first), the U.S. has found about about this secret invention and sent the G-Man, John Scarsdale, to get the information.

Finding the location wasn't very hard - thousands of people getting sick within a certain area? What those limeys didn't bet on was our man John having a metal plate in his head from injuries in previous service. Walking onto the premises unaffected by the waves, John comes upon a guard unawares (he was having afternoon tea). They tussle, and both draw guns, but as handguns were banned by the British government in 1997 (a law they apparently never repealed or amended in 53 yrs), the guard's is a decoy, and he is quickly overthrown. However rather than draw more attention to the area with gunshots, Scarsdale forces all the scientists to remove their headgear, causing them all to flee, vomiting all the way to safety. He grabs the plans (which were conveniently left on a table) and flees, ensuring victory for the US!

...Or did he? The British were more clever than he expected. That site was just a decoy and the British still hold all the cards - as well as a grudge now...

Three thousand years of beautiful tradition, from Moses to Sandy Koufax

I don't think I have anything to say about this topic. I think it was not meant for me. The title throws me; G-Men Detective? Shouldn't it be G-Man Detective? Or G-Men Detectives? I know a G-Man is short for "government man." (Though there is a gay magazine called G-Men, I think.) Is he detecting government men, or is he a government man detecting other people? I don't know. This is not meant for me, because I have no imagination. I don't think the guy is in a radiation suit, since his hands are bare. Wouldn't do too much good, right? And which one is the detective? "Death on the Runways" makes me think of the obvious. It's on an airport runway. The guys in the background are shooting some strange laser weapons at something; I'd guess it's an airplane. So this is some sort of retro-futuristic thing. Not sure what's going on there. Maybe the guy is supposed to be in a radiation suit; what else would it be? Some sort of space suit? Are they from space? Maybe it's a space shuttle runway. I dunno. I also like William O'Sullivan, the guy who wrote the story, because he kept the "O" on his name (once upon a time, the "O" was attached to my last name, until it was more suitably westernized long before I was born; the "O" means "grandson of"). Also it seems to say "British Edition" in the upper left corner; what's that about? What would need to be different? Some British slang maybe.

That's really all I can think of. But on the bright side, I've set the bar suitably low for everyone else's responses.

UPDATE: Jen, you have a much better imagination than I. I don't want to say I have absolutely no imagination; I think I do sometimes. I fear I'm going to be embarrassed because this topic will be better received by everyone else, since I think everyone else here has a better imagination. I guess I could look at this picture and make something up; I took it seriously when you said to write my post first. I wasn't sure what you were looking for. And then I read your post. So I'll try again. Here goes.

The men are from space; they established a colony on Mars. They came back to take more people with them. That's why they are in space suits. The G-Man Detective is trying to stop them; he was investigating the strange disappearances of people and uncovered their plan. Maybe they are taking people back to populate their species, trying to create a more perfect human race. And leaving Earth to rot; and even draining some of their resources/money/etc. And ruling them from afar; trying to meddle in their affairs and influence Earth, especially trying to keep people from progressing/evolving and particularly from venturing outward and discovering their presence on Mars. G-Man Detective wants to uncover their plot and stop them from disappearing people and from creating a master race to rule Earth from afar. How's that? Doesn't really jibe with "Death on the Runways." Damn. Well that's as good as I got.

Discuss.

This week, this G-Men Detective cover is your inspiration. I won't tell you where I got it or anything else about it, just respond to it by saying whatever it makes you think of. In fact, this might work better if you don't read the other responses until after you've written your own-- then it will be truly yours and not a continuation of someone else's. that said, here's mine (and I promise I just found this image 2 minutes ago, so don't put an awful lot of thought into what you want to say; obviously, I'm not).


The first question that comes to my mind here is, who exactly is the g-man in this drawing? The guy in blue appears to be a cop, but then, who's dressed up in that HazMat suit? then I have to wonder, if this is Death on the Runways, where's the plane? and what's that planet-shaped thing behind the title?

Radiation is fascinating to me because the human body has absolutely no way of sensing it. Literally, you could be walking around town completely covered in radiation particles(which I always think of as little glowing green dots--thank you, TV) and have no idea. And as you're walking, you're leaving a trail of green dots, and green fingerprints and shoeprints, and other people are picking them up as they follow behind you. Yet, none of you can see, feel, taste, smell, or hear your contamination. The only thing you'll eventually feel is the sickness you may get later, if you received a serious dose. But with most radiation, you just have to change clothes and take a shower and *poof!* all safe! Other types can be treated rather easily, you just have to know you need treatment, which is the tough part. In fact, you are exposed to radiation every day, but the level you get has been deemed safe and acceptable by people who presumably know about such things and you'll just have to trust them until you hear differently.

Although radiation suits, when worn properly, can protect against radiation poisoning, they cannot protect against bullets. This is doubly bad news for our startled HazMat responder, as he's backing away from the cop's gun AND not wearing gloves. Hopefully, HazMat training in Britain has improved since the late '40s: 1.) wear gloves when responding to a dangerous situation, even if you chose to respond with pistols and lasers, and 2.) Try not to anger any local police, even American police, who may be quick to shoot and slow to understand, or 2b.) Wear bullet-proof vests under all HazMat attire.

Despite who the good guys are or why the bad guys are so bad, we have to wonder what the two fellows in the background are shooting. As in, what type of weapon is that, what is coming out of it, and what is whatever's coming out of it actually hitting.

Here's the situation as I understand it: The Russians were building a new, secret super-weapon somewhere on the outskirts of London. Our hero, G-Man Detective (who dresses like an American cop, not a Bobbie, to prove that he's just that cool), is immediately put on the case when Scotland Yard discovers a dead scientist in the general vicinity. After some careful sleuthing, G-Man finds the underground Russian lair and is able to observe the building of this super-weapon. Unfortunately, before he can get word back to Scotland Yard, he is discovered by the Russians and has to fight his way out of the lair and destroy the super-weapon single handedly. All this, of course, he does without breaking a sweat and at some point hooks up (in clean, 1940s fashion) with the hot Russian girl-scientist. Well, maybe not scientist. He hooks up with the hot Russian maid/cook who is actually being held captive by the weapon builders because her father, coincidentally the scientist found dead at the beginning of our story, was asking too many questions about the fairness, power, and implications of the super-weapon.

Why are they building in London? well, the climate is much better there, which is saying something.