Monthly Archives: February 2010

The Only Color

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a flash story by David G Shrock

Listen to me tell this story: The Only Color MP3

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I accept the uniform, folded neat upon my arms. The soldier tells me blue is my color. Or is it gray? Another war, another battle—it is always the same—another uniform, nothing ever changes. A warrior only knows one color.

Blue or gray, I don my uniform holding me hot and tight. I stand in line with the others, mercenaries carrying scars of battle upon their faces. Some pale, some dark, the warriors hold two traits in common, their color and death in their eyes.

The mercenaries march, boots crushing the ground. The slinking centipede cuts through the army into the front line. Musket in left hand, sword in my right, I stand gazing over rolling green. A mercenary tells us to remember our color. Remember, the man beside me says tugging at his uniform.

Darkness arrives with the thunder of boots. I hold no argument, no ill between warriors. This is our way. The one beside me speaks again. He wishes me luck, find death at last. I thank him and shake my head. Another field, nothing ever changes. Perhaps my time passed me long ago. I wish him a good death and to remember our color.

Cannon fire announces the battle. Blue meets gray. Cries of war twist into howls of dread. I dance to the music of anguish, the beat of torment. I attack blue. Or is it gray? Dropping the musket, I carry my sword, cutting my way up the hill.

The soldiers are farmers and masons, not warriors. Blue and gray are their colors before the reaping. Some turn away in fear, others stand frozen clenching weapons. I clear first the ones with strength in their eyes. Weapons falling, death calling, a warrior only knows one color.

Blue or gray I forget, but their faces burn into memory. Color flees their cheeks, light departs their eyes. They shed crimson tears upon my dress. Even the mercenaries cry for me. I envy them, their freedom.

On the hilltop I stand alone gazing down over the field. Blue or gray matter no more. All of the fallen wear the same color—my color—flowing down the hill. Death and carrion are my companions.

Red is my color, the only color I know.

~Draco Torre

Quick, Dirty Relativity Review

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Part of the What Time? series, an exploration in science fiction.

Relativity

Size is relative. Speed is relative. In my story, “Dunston Monster,” some of the characters refer to Sebastian as a giant while others just think he’s very big. Comparing to a tree, Sebastian is short. Scientist measure everything relative to something. A car travels 70 km in an hour (70 km/h or average 1200 m/s.)

Relative Measurement

  • Distance measured relative to a standard such as a meter (m.)
  • Velocity measured relative to distance per time standard: m/s.
  • Acceleration measured relative to m/s/s or m/s2

A train travels 40 km/h and Jason walks in the aisle towards the front of the train. Of course, we assume the train travels 40 km/h relative to the ground. If Jason walks at 4 km/h relative to the train, then Jason moves at 44 km/h relative to the ground. Simple, right?

Theory of Relativity

Actually, two theories, Special and General. We will deal with the Special Theory of Relativity by Einstein which generalizes Galileo’s relativity principal stating that the laws of physics are the same in all inertial frames of reference.

Brief History Lesson

Scientists wanted to know how fast light travels. The problem: relative to what? Earth zips around the sun, and the sun speeds through the universe. Someone suggested a solution: measure light from a star in the same direction as Earth travels then in the opposing direction. Much like Jason on the train, some arithmetic should leave us the answer of light traveling relative to some “ether.”

It didn’t work out. In every direction scientists measured the same velocity of light coming from distant stars. Scientists scratched their heads.

Einstein suggested a logical conclusion: time is relative to the observer. No matter how the observer travels, the observer will always measure the same speed of light.

Proof of Time Relativity

Using atomic clocks, scientists have compared measurements between an observer on the ground and an observer traveling around the globe on the airplane. The clocks disagreed. The larger the difference in motion, the more the clocks disagree.

Time is Relative

Space-Time Light Cone

In our exploration of time, we should keep this mind. Time is relative to the observer. Standing on Earth, we may safely assume our observations are the same. Even traveling in airplanes, the differences are so tiny that we’ll never notice. Traveling in spaceships is a different story.

Now we may interpret time as a 4th dimension to our spatial dimensions. Since imagining four dimensions is a challenge, we can draw a diagram using only one of the spatial dimensions on one access and time on the other. Apply it to the other two spatial dimensions. We end up with a light cone defining future, past, and elsewhere.

We can’t reach elsewhere using normal traveling means. Why? The Theory of Relativity gives us the equation, E = mc2 where E is energy, m is mass, and c is the speed of light. The problem is accelerating mass to the speed of light requires infinite energy. Our future travelers will need to find another way to reach elsewhere, or be patient and reach

Light Cone for Mars and Earth

the same spatial location inside the future cone.

What happens now? Let’s say a robot on Mars breaks and sends a distress signal. Now for the robot is different than now for the observers on Earth. Seen in the diagram, the observers on Earth don’t find out about the problem until 20 minutes later relative to the robot. The present is relative.

Fun Time Facts

  • Light from the sun takes about 8 minutes to reach Earth.
  • Light from the next closest star takes 4 years.
  • Chatting with an astronaut in Saturn orbit requires over 2 hours to hear the reply.

Considerations in Sci-Fi Writing

  • Can’t describe spaceship accelerating beyond light speed.
  • Faster than light (FTL) travel is impossible for mass. Find other way.
  • What would warp-speed (or sub-warp) look like?
  • Traveler in other star system can’t use the radio to communicate with Earth.

Learn More

What Time? series posts every 2nd and 4th Tuesday of the month.

Memor Mora in Deadly Love

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My story, “Memor Mora” is in Deadly Love, Be Mine anthology published by Soft Whispers Magazine along with eleven other short stories and poems. You may read it on Scribd here.

I wrote “Memor Mora” last summer at more than twice the length of the final in the anthology. A few anonymous (I’ve never met) test readers returned feedback, and I paraphrase:

  • Dark
  • Most powerful love story I ever read
  • Don’t read these kind of stories
  • Don’t change a word

Sorry, I changed some words. Without success at finding a market, I edited it down to a smaller size for #FridayFlash. I saw the request by Soft Whispers for the theme and submitted it. I like the revised short version better. The original carried on too much muddling the primary story. I hope the test readers don’t mind.

Go read the free anthology and tell me what you think.

Dunston Monster: Demon Hunter

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a flash series part 8 of 8 by David G Shrock

See Dunston Monster Contents for series information or back to Part 7.

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The breeze chilled Sebastian. He tried to pull his gaze away. Gunpowder consumed his nostrils, and a ringing swarmed inside his ear. His gaze traced the tufts of fabric. He stared at the stump of a neck sliced clean, blood pooling around shoulders. A crimson trail fled out the door, splotches on the snow.

“All wrong from the start,” said Sebastian. Sweat dripped down his brow. The floor tilting towards him then away. From the shotgun welcome at Dunston, hurrying off in search of Tabitha meeting Father Young, the riddle, Tabitha teasing his gun away. Even the weather had been against him, beyond the turning point forcing him here, Roan, the killer.

“I should have stayed with her.” Glancing back he spotted the innkeeper crouching at the corner of the bar. “I should have asked more questions at Dunston. More insistent. More protective of my gun.”

Running fingers back through his hair, Sebastian gazed down at the headless body. He recalled the hellfire. “But you were right, Tabitha.” He pictured her sharp teeth. Tears flooded his eyes blurring vision. “They would have executed you without a trail.”

“But if I had done better,” said Sebastian. He remembered the moonlight kissing her smiling face. “Same result, only sooner.”

With the killer on the loose, there was still a chance for justice. Leaning down over the body, he snatched the shotgun. “Where’s my hat?” He felt naked without his hat.

Creeping around the bar, Balmer held it up, shaking.

Sebastian snatched the hat, smashed it on his head, and tugged the brim down. His boots thumped across the floor and over the body. Pausing at the door, he glanced back at Balmer. “Fetch the lawman.”

The nearly pristine snow beneath the hanging lanterns made the trail easy to follow. The blood droplets made it obvious. Turning a corner, boots skidding over slick cobblestone, Sebastian found a narrow street between stone buildings. Light spilled a few meters into the street before being swallowed by darkness. At the other end of the chasm, the red horizon outlined the forest, dark spindly fingers reaching for the sky. Before the trees, a white mist, nearly glowing beneath the moonlight, grasped at the air.

Sebastian inspected the shotgun, a double barrel with a single shot remaining. Entering the shadows, Sebastian held his breath. Snow crunched beneath boots. The cold gripped him, icy fingers digging into his back. He searched the white ground. Every shadowy divot leaped out at him, his mind turning them into footprints and blood drops.

Then he saw him, a silhouette of a slender figure surrounded by burning red around the flat brim of the hat, white mist surrounding torso and legs. At his side, something hung from his hand, long threads reaching to the bulbous mass at the man’s knee; the killer held the head by the hair.

Sebastian stepped, one foot in front of the other, and raised the shotgun taking aim. His heart thundered in his chest. Beyond range, he continued. “Conrad,” he said, “show me your hands!”

Conrad released the hair. The head fell and thumped in the snow.

Red pressed through spindly trees turning the mist into a dance of writhing white tendrils, and painted the far end of the street.

Shotgun level, finger over trigger, Sebastian crept placing one foot before the other, heart slamming his chest. Keeping his eye on the shadowy figure, he heard the crunching and clacking of his boots, a morning bird singing to the coming sun, heartbeat in his ears. Ten paces from the corner, he stopped.

A bird tweeted. Another answered. Distant boots clomped over cobblestone.

Conrad stood motionless. Behind him, the horizon brightened.

“Your hands, Conrad!” Sebastian squinted into the light.

Flutter of shadow, and the shotgun slipped from his grasp. Conrad stood before him his parted duster revealing weapons hanging from belt. At the end of an extended arm, slender fingers held the barrel of a revolver, wood handle outward. It appeared very similar to the one lost to the river.

Heart slowing, Sebastian stared at his father’s other revolver held out to him. Confused, he peered at the face. Blood dripped from thin lips onto the pale chin. High cheekbones, slender nose, the face nearly appeared feminine. The narrow eyes, confident cold blue steel gaze pierced into him. A shiver scrambled down his backside. He felt small, naked. He tried to hold the gaze, but his eyes deceived him and he peered down at the revolver in the hand.

“Your father,” said Conrad, whispering through clenched teeth. “A great warrior.”

Sebastian gulped down saliva, and licked his lips. He felt like a child, small and helpless.

“His,” said Conrad, “death.” He peered down at the revolver. “A good death.”

Reaching out, Sebastian grabbed the revolver by the handle and held it against his chest. Peering down at the offering, he understood the words. The two warriors had fought with honor. Conrad respected Rhemus the Giant.

His father felt closer.

Sebastian looked up finding the street empty. Sunlight struck his face, and he held up his hand blocking the light. Glancing back, he searched the empty street. Before him the empty meadow cradled pristine snow. Somehow he knew, no matter how improbable, the creature had departed with the night.

Tabitha’s head rested in the snow, dark hairs fanned over cheek. Dropping to a knee, Sebastian brushed the hair aside revealing the wound. Instead of a clean cut, he found a gash, torn flesh hanging from the back, and within, broken skull fragments slick with blood. It appeared as though Conrad had chewed his way into the back of the skull.

Hearing footsteps, a cane tapping cobblestone, he twirled around finding Father Young.

“No. I’m not following you, boy.” Father Young pointed his cane towards the building on the left. “My church.”

“That’s how you knew how to find Conrad.” Sebastian slipped his father’s revolver—his revolver—into his holster. “What is he? A vampire?” It sounded too much like folklore, but he had no other explanation.

“Nonsense, boy.” Father Young rubbed his balding head and peered down at the head. “Something old. Older than I even.”

Sebastian peered at the dark glasses picturing the strange gold orbs within. Father Young was something not quite human, and he wanted to know more. “Father, I’ve seen evil.”

Father Young peered up and wrinkled his nose. Sunlight glimmered on the dark lenses. “Conrad?”

“Ignorance,” said Sebastian. “We all choose our path, Father Young, and sometimes that path offers very few forks.” He shook his head at the limited choices along the way. “How can I help anyone? With all these secrets! I must learn about your people. Tabitha’s people.”

“You truly are your father’s son.” Father Young shook his head. “A hunter.”

“A defender.” Sebastian held his head high. He felt refreshed knowing his path. “I must return to university.”

Father Young nodded. “I’ll message Father Gustav.”

“But first I must visit Dunston. Let them know their monster is gone.”

“And Conrad?”

“Didn’t you notice? He’s a demon hunter.” Sebastian scowled. “My father’s final assignment. You sent my father after Conrad, didn’t you?”

Father Young cringed.

“I’d sleep with a gold eye open if I were you, Father Young.” Sebastian grinned. “Conrad is still out there.”

Picking up the Dunston Monster’s head, Sebastian held it to his chest. He brushed the dark hair aside finding the serpentine teeth within gaping jaw. Vision blurred. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks. Recalling their talk in the woods, sitting in the trees, his tears became a shower.

“No,” said Sebastian. “You’re not evil, Tabitha.” He took a step, wobbling. He pictured the moonlight splashing off her cheeks, her smile, and peered down at her dead eyes. The hellfire was gone. Clenching teeth, he marched into town.

“No more evil than the rest of us monsters.”

_________________________________________________

Thanks for reading “Dunston Monster.” Comments or questions? Please, let me know what you think. Your opinion is valuable and appreciated.

Shadow Memories

“Duston Montster” appears in Shadow Memories available on Smashwords and Amazon.

If you enjoyed this story, you may also enjoy my novel, Raven Memory, a modern science-fantasy in the same world.

Sebastian is part of Draco Torre’s world. See more of him in future short stories and in my second novel.

-David G Shrock 2010

“Dunston Monster” copyright © 2010 David G Shrock

Dunston Monster: Killer

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a flash series part 7 of 8 by David G Shrock

See Dunston Monster Contents for series information or back to Part 6.

Warning: Violence

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Sebastian left Tabitha in the care of the local lawman, Jasper, until morning when they could sort everything out. No sign of Sheriff Haas.

Roan was not a big town, but the snow covered cobblestone streets snaking on either side of the river made the town seem larger. Nearly empty in the predawn twilight, the streets echoed boots throughout the town. Twice Sebastian stopped at an intersection sniffing the scent of fresh bread, the direction elusive.

Above a door, hanging from a post, a sign boasted hot meals and warm beds, The Roan Inn.

Sebastian opened the door and ducked inside. Standing tall, he peered around the dim room. Four empty tables lined the front, two on each side nearly hidden in shadows. Beside him, a coatrack held a single tan duster. At the back, a lantern on the bar illuminated the side of a man facing him. To the left, the light reached a staircase leading to the floor above. Behind the bar, a doorway released the only other source of light and the scent of fresh baked bread.

Breathing in the aroma, Sebastian smiled recalling a spring day, sneaking into the kitchen for a bite of bread before it had cooled, and his mother appearing to swat his hand. Somehow his mother had always known whenever trouble arrived. He wished for her skill.

Sebastian removed his hat and approached the bar.

A clatter in the back, a man wearing an apron appeared in the doorway. He froze staring at Sebastian. Slowly, his look of surprise turned into a grin. “Rhemus?”

“Yes, Sebastian Rhemus.” He nodded.

“I knew your father,” said the man, his smile growing larger. “I’m Balmer, the keeper of this inn.” He reached over the bar.

Stunned, Sebastian stared at the hand. He knew the day would come, an outside connection to his father. He shook the hand.

“Strong like your father,” said Balmer. Releasing the shake, he raised his hand holding it a little higher than Sebastian’s head. “But not as big.” He clapped his hands. “Your father liked my omelet. I fetch.” Spinning around, he disappeared into the back. Pans clanged.

Sebastian peered over at the man beside him.

A flat brimmed hat worn by weather blocked the man’s eyes. Unkempt dark hair fell to the shoulder. A tin mug spilled its contents between cracked lips. Slender fingers pulled the mug away tapping onto the bar. Tall, the man’s hat came to Sebastian’s shoulder. The buttoned shirt hung loose form his slender frame, sleeves too short, collar too wide making him appear gaunt.

Pivoting on a toe, the man turned like a whisper facing Sebastian. He hooked his thumbs into his belt hanging low, weighted down by weapons. Leather thongs held the holsters against thighs, two knives with white handles surrounded the brass buckle, and a sword rested in dark scabbard hanging on his left side. The man appeared like war waiting to happen.

A chill raced down Sebastian’s backside, and he shook. He did not need a mother’s sense. Trouble stood before him.

Balmer returned with steaming omelet and a warm bread roll. Sebastian wanted to ask about his father, but hunger took over, and he chomped into the meal. The innkeeper filled the gaunt fellow’s mug and returned to his baking in the back.

“Frightful weather,” said Sebastian. He glanced over at the slender man, and took another gulp of eggs. “Nearly froze my fingers out there.”

The man raised his mug to his lips and held it there breathing in the caffeinated fumes.

Balmer’s voice boomed from the back. “Your father was a good man.”

Door creaked, and a cold breeze sent the lantern flame swirling.

Still holding the tin mug high, the man glanced at the door.

Sebastian peered over his shoulder and found a woman in a dress standing in the open door just beyond the reach of the lantern. He spotted the twin hellfire sparks.

Tabitha stepped into the light. Her eyes returned to a normal brown, but they glared with hate. She held a shotgun aimed at the bar. It was the third time in the same number of days Sebastian found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

“That’s him,” said Tabitha. Her flesh nearly as white as her dress, she stood at the edge of death. “Joseph Conrad. The killer.”

Facing the gun, Sebastian held out his hands. “Please, Tabitha.”

“Step aside, Sebastian!” Her face wrenched with hate. “Shoot you both I will!”

“You’re ill,” said Sebastian. He stepped diagonally away from the line of fire and closer to the gun. Spotting red droplets on the dress, he froze. “Jasper. How is he?”

Snarling, she exposed her serpentine fangs. “I never hurt anyone, Sebastian. You believe me, don’t you?”

Seeing her like this, Sebastian felt uncertain. Two dead and the missing sheriff, the Dunston residents had demanded the return of their monster—Tabitha, a school teacher with terrible teeth.

“That night Joseph Conrad arrived. I saw it!” Her aim swayed, and she squeezed the gun tighter. “I watched him take my brother’s head!”

“We’ll go together,” said Sebastian. He crept closer and stood halfway between Tabitha and the bar. Glancing over, he spotted Conrad standing calm still holding the mug. “Explain everything at a fair trial.”

“No trials for my people,” said Tabitha. “Only the gallows for us.”

Tabitha pulled the trigger, the boom crashed throughout the inn sending Sebastian stumbling back onto a table, crashing of wood lost to the piercing ring in his ears, and the explosion of another gun. Bits of ceiling fell. Conrad held two revolvers shooting repeatedly, and Tabitha stumbled back, blood sloshing out her backside. Shotgun fell to the ground. Speeding across the floor, Conrad fell upon Tabitha like a hawk swooping for the kill, sword slashing.

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, but the image burned into him, the head falling one way and the body slumping in the other. Opening his eyes, he found himself sitting on the table wreckage breathing in dust. He gazed at the open door. On the floor, the body lay on its back, the head missing.

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Continue to Part 8, the finale.

Why iPad

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“For years we’ve all held to the belief that computing had to be made simpler for the ‘average person’. I find it difficult to come to any conclusion other than that we have totally failed in this effort.” -Speirs “Future Shock“

Since the iPad announcement a number of posts, comments, and articles appeared bashing iPad. Some include colorful language in titles like, “epic fail.” While the iPad may not be what everyone expected (it’s exactly what I expected,) some of the anti-iPad reasoning seems to be about clinging to old methods.

The iPad is not an iPod Touch, but familiarity of the interface improves understanding. If you have never tried an iPhone or iPod Touch, please borrow one and give the following a try:

  • Photos: try swipe, pinch zoom, tilt
  • Stocks
  • USA Today app (free)
  • Stanza (free) or Kindle for iPhone app
  • Play a video

“These new devices allow ‘computing’ to get out of the way of what users really want to do: interact with data.” -Eaton, comment on “Flash, iPad, Standards” at Zeldman.com.

Common complaints about iPad

  1. Only 1 connector and it’s USB.
  2. No camera (future possibility.)
  3. No Adobe Flash support.
  4. Limited storage/don’t like copying files.
  5. It’s just a big iPod Touch.
  6. Not eInk.
  7. Doesn’t replace laptop.
  8. Where’s the innovation? Old netbooks do that.
  9. Phone/Nintendo DS/organizer has touch. Big deal.
  10. No multitasking.

My Short Response to Common iPad Complaints

  1. Wireless and sync. Reducing connector dependency is the goal.
  2. Camera might be nice for video conference, but phones and PCs do this.
  3. Adobe Flash must improve or watch something else take its place.
  4. Sync and streaming. You don’t need to carry everything with you.
  5. Not quite. Wait to see future apps.
  6. eInk isn’t ready yet. Needs faster refresh and color.
  7. iPad is not a PC replacement.
  8. Innovation brings the user closer to the content. See the two quotes above.
  9. Try an iPhone, iPod Touch, or iPad. See the difference?
  10. Unnecessary for casual use, and we’ll see it in the future.

Now let’s look at some of the complaints in detail.

No Adobe Flash

This is a strong argument since Flash is well entrenched on the web. How many iPhone users complain? Many don’t miss it preferring apps instead. Flash consumes resources and sometimes crashes browsers. If Adobe addresses these issues, we may see it on the iPad. We may also see another solution, HTML5, or specialized apps may take over.

Old Habits Die Hard

Read the quote at the top of the page. Give it careful consideration. Not convinced? Read the entire “Future Shock” by Speirs.

People take comfort in the familiar. Before computers, most people didn’t know why they would want it until they tried it. Old habits die hard. General hardware and software hasn’t changed much in decades. We learn about file systems and complex hierarchies in order to use computers.

Big File Storage: Demanding enough storage for a copy of everything on every device surfaces from the chore of copying our music and movies to devices. We must understand file systems and capacities, and most devices make it difficult to copy. So many make a habit to copy everything and leave it.

Netbooks and Notebooks: They work like our desktops. The lid makes it difficult to carry and use and sometimes the field doesn’t offer a nice table to set it on. Short battery life limits portability. Many want a tablet without giving up the familiar interface, file system, and connectors. Many of us want our portable computers to do everything a desktop does. Some of us don’t want change.

Personally, I want a portable computer to be truly portable. I do most of my work sitting at a desk.

Computers require extensive knowledge. Even some of the self-proclaimed computer experts manage to get their operating systems mangled or overburdened by poor applications. So much technical skills are required in order to design software that often the user experience gets pushed aside. We end up with clunky software that requires hunting through menus using an absurd number of mouse clicks. These become habits and users learn to accept it.

This must end.

The goal of a computer is to remove the complexity. We have been going backwards in some cases. Many older office software products were faster and easier. We need to give control back to the user. As a software designer, I make this my personal quest.

Conclusion

The iPad may not be the computer some consumers want, but that doesn’t make it a failure. It may seem underwhelming. Major changes shock consumers, and products with too much change sell poorly. The iPad fills the gap between a dedicated computing system and a phone. Apple carefully steps in the right direction by making progressive changes to products already entrenched in the market. The future will bring new devices and better computers.

Why iPad? It’s a step in the right direction.

Will you buy an iPad or wait to see what the future brings?

What others are saying:

The eBook Test provides a list in “Must-Read Pro-iPad Posts.”

“The iPad isn’t what you think it is” at Mainly Thinking.

“Why I See The iPad As An Epic Ereader Fail” at Indie Author.

Lamarche of iPhone Development says, “for many people, a regular computer is both overkill and frustrating.” in “Same Ol’ Same Ol’…”

Chris Rawson on “Adobe speaks up about Flash on the iPad”

PC World: “iPad Study: The More You Know, The Less You Want One”

Ars Technica: “Survey tries quantifying iPad hype, suggests interest waning”

MarketWatch: “Disney CEO: iPad ‘could be a game changer’“

Newtonian Time

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Part of the What Time? series, an exploration in science fiction.

Let us generalize a moment.

The Background

In the 17th century industrialization sprouted leading to 19th century railroad domination linking commerce across the map. Scheduling trains increased the need for time zones. Higher precision clocks allowed ships improved navigation across the sea. Clocks became important including today as we schedule our every minute.

Before the machinery took over, physicist Isaac Newton introduced the Laws of Motion. According to our science definitions, “laws” explain observations without understanding why. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. An object in motion stays in motion until an outside force acts upon it. The Law of Gravity predicted planetary positions and falling objects. These beautiful laws allowed us to build wonderful things. It also gave us a sense of precision and logic.

The Stage

Newtonian physics (classical,) became common sense. (Not for everyone, some students still get confused.) Newton’s math and physics allows us to predict the future, where a cannon ball will land, planetary positions, or the moon phase on a given date. Recording the past to help predict the future entrenched us in the idea that the past is set and the future is uncertain, but predictable with enough data (from the past.) Law-like principles ruled.

With increased precision, more trains, clocks ticking away in (near) synchronous, the drum beat of time hardened “common sense” time into our lives.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

“Common Sense” Time

I call this, Newtonian Time. It isn’t Newton’s fault. I don’t blame him. For Westerners, the roots of “common sense” time was already there. I call it Newtonian Time because it fits with Newtonian Physics, or classical physics.

Time is an assumption, and in this perception, time passes at a constant beat.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

All of classical physics depends on this constant beat along with the assumption that the past is unchangeable and the future is predictable. This leads to the impression of time’s arrow. We feel pulled down the river of our lives unable to escape the flow or stop the beating drum, like our hearts, pounding away until the end.

Under this perception of time we assume time is the same for everyone.

Even in Newton’s day, scientists noticed problems. One glaring puzzle keeping astronomers curious for years: the planet Mercury refused prediction under classical physics. That is another story: Relativity.

Learn More

  • About Time by Paul Davies, “Chapter 1: A Very Brief History of Time”
What Time? series posts on 2nd and 4th Tuesday of the month.

Dunston Monster: Monster Savior

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a flash series part 6 of 8 by David G Shrock

See Dunston Monster Contents for series information or back to Part 5.

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“We should take shelter. Wait out the storm.” Sebastian could barely hear his own voice over the river crashing around the rocks.

Tabitha yelled something about Roan. Holding up her hands, she indicated distance: close. They were already wet. Everything was too damp for a fire. Sebastian realized the town was their best chance. He offered to carry her. She refused indicating with the revolver that he should go first. He took the first step, a small one for him. Water spray attacked his trousers, the cold squeezing his muscles sending pins rippling up his legs. A stretch carried him to the next rock.

Loudest in the center of the river, the banks funneled the river’s roar.

Arms out wide, revolver in her right hand, Tabitha jumped to the first rock. A gust of wind sent her swaying, but she pulled herself upright. She gripped the revolver like death.

Sebastian wished she would put the gun away, or give it back. It was all he had of his father.

A stretch to the next rock carried Sebastian within two steps of the shore. Water splashed over his boot. He checked his footing. The rock felt slick. Looking back, he found Tabitha waiting on the rock behind him.

Sliding to the edge of the stone, making room, Sebastian turned and offered his hand.

Tabitha appeared frozen. Frost coated her hair. The fur coat was no longer black, more of a mottled white and gray with dark streaks. Her face appeared even paler, almost blue. Her demon eyes blazed.

As her foot left the rock, there was no question in Sebastian’s mind that her leap was short, and the frightened face told him, she knew it as well. He reached for her outstretched hand. Her boot disappeared into the river, and she dropped, her hand falling away.

Tabitha splashed face-down into the river, the current pulling her from the rocks. Sebastian stepped into the cold water and grasped her shoulder. He watched his father’s revolver disappear into the river. Gazing into the pleading eyes, into the hellfire, he saw hate and distrust. Tabitha expected him to release her, leave the monster behind.

Sebastian pulled her from the current’s grasp, the soaked coat weighing her down. He lifted her into his arms. Spotting a wall of rocks, he carried her into the protection from the wind.

Sebastian stripped the wet fur coat away, and removed his own coat. Wrapping his coat around Tabitha, he pulled her against the rocks. She shivered against him, and he squatted to get better hold wrapping his arms around her. They shivered against each other, and he kept his arms moving working heat. The river roared beside them, and the wind pulled at the trees. Snow fluttered in circles around them.

“I’m a school teacher,” said Tabitha, lips quivering. “Did I mention that?”

* * *

The cold latched on, gnawing, draining life. Snow stopped falling, the wind settled, but the air thickened its frozen grasp closing tight. Darkness swallowed the forest.

Each breath felt like needles. Knees buckled, but Sebastian charged ahead. He could only see a few meters, shapes moving within the darkness. Trees clawed at him. Elbows out, he protected Tabitha within his arms. Tucking down, he shouldered through branches snapping away. Thoughts of losing his cargo to the cold kept his feet moving, but frost clung to his back. He no longer felt his fingers. His heart pounded, and his lungs wheezed.

Feeling the ground drop away, Sebastian slid falling on his rear. He peered into the darkness finding shapes on either side, nothing ahead. He heard something, rocks or balls of clay, tumble through snow and leaves below. Recognizing the edge of a ravine, he stood scrambling back onto level ground.

Somewhere below, a creature snorted, likely an elk Sebastian thought.

His cargo rustled, and he looked down. Twin embers burned illuminated the fractal browns and golds of her irises much like the sun shining through the stained glass window at church—beautiful and dangerous.

“You.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “You rescued a monster.”

“Not yet,” said Sebastian. He tried smiling, but his face hurt.

The orbs shifted; Tabitha looked over. “A road.”

The road led downhill and the forest grew less dense. The patchwork of clouds allowed moonlight turning the snow bright. After the blackness, it nearly felt like daylight, and Sebastian quickened his pace. His legs complained, but he charged ahead nearly running. Little golden lights appeared in the valley, the lanterns of Roan lighting the way.

Sebastian charged the first house, and banged his fist against the door shaking the frame. Latch clicked, door swung open, and warmth spilled outside. A short balding man fell back from the doorway.

Ducking, Sebastian entered the home. “She fell in the river. She’s a school teacher.” He didn’t know why he added the last part. The cold talking he supposed.

The man stood there, dumbfounded. A woman appeared from a back room. Taking charge, the woman ordered the man to fetch blankets and invited Sebastian to the fire. He set Tabitha down on the floor before the hearth, sat down beside her. Warmth scratched his face. The couple brought them wool blankets and water.

Looking over at Tabitha peeking out of a pile of blankets, Sebastian smiled. His face hurt, but not as much as the pain stabbing into his fingers. The firelight hid the hellfire. He liked her brown eyes better. “Now you’re safe.

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Continue to Part 7.

Warning for the sensitive: The final two parts contain violence and blood.