The Twins Paradox is less of a paradox and more of a time puzzle originally stated by Einstein.

Puzzling Twins

Alice and Angela are identical twins born seconds apart on a shiny afternoon. Growing up, they do everything together including dressing alike. Their mother insists they wear different colored bows in their hair, Alice in a red bow and Angela in pink. Teachers and some of their friends depend on the bows for identification, but their closest friends can tell them apart most of the time. Sometimes they like switching bows and pretending to be the other, especially when taking exams. Angela is the whiz at math.

At the age of seventeen years, Angela announces she intends on traveling to nearby Barnard’s Star as part of her astronomy studies. The university has limited room and cannot include another member on the field trip spanning several years. Although the ship can accelerate to near the speed of light, it must spend several years at the constant velocity before decelerating at the destination where the team will spend two years observing. Alice argues that it would tear them apart taking such a long trip. How could they live without each other? Alice tries and tries, but Angela has made up her mind. Alice waves goodbye to her sister and watches the craft depart the space station.

Thirty-nine years later, red bow long lost, Alice takes her two grown children to meet her sister at the space station. Angela steps off the spacecraft wearing the pink bow in her hair. Angela appears younger than Alice’s own children. Angela insists she has only been away for twelve years, not thirty-nine, and she argues with her much older twin.

What happened?

Short Answer

Angela’s trip experiences a time-dilation effect. From my “Quick, Dirty Relativity Review,” we know that time is relative to the observer verified using highly accurate clocks. One consequence is that observers moving at significantly different rates will appear to age differently. Both twins age normally and experience the normal passing of time. Since both twins move at significantly different rates, their frames of time relative to each other differ. Time is relative to the observer.

If motion is relative than why isn’t the time-dilation effect relative?

The Paradox

From Alice’s frame of reference, Angela is moving and her time appears slowed by time dilation. From Angela’s frame of reference, Alice is the one moving. (Recall that a reference frame tells us that science experiments gives the same results in uniform motion as if we were sitting still. This doesn’t apply to accelerating objects.) Why isn’t time-dilation effect relative? The answer is the accelerating part of the trip. Einstein brought up this twins puzzle pointing out it isn’t really a paradox. Acceleration isn’t relative.

Math

Assuming the space craft can accelerate without squishing the passengers to death, let’s try using numbers to see how this works. Angela spent three years at Barnard’s Star, the same in Alice’s reference since Barnard’s Star system and Earth are nearly relative to each other in motion. Travel time for Angela is nine years (four and half each way) while the trip from Alice’s reference is thirty-six years (thirty-nine minus three.) Disregarding time for acceleration, we can use the following formula to find out how fast Angela’s ship travels where td is time dilation and v/c is percentage speed of light:

The time dilation (td) from Angela to Alice is 9 / 36 or 0.25. This gives us a velocity of 0.9825% speed of light. Mighty fast! Getting up to that speed safely would actually take a long time without some kind of anti-squishing technology!

What is the impetus to serialize a story? After all, we don’t have the tangible, real-world constraints that necessitated the serialization of many early 20th-century stories in the first place. Do readers really digest serials bit by bit as they’re fed, or do they wait until the end to feast? My gut feeling is that the easy access to instant gratification in all forms of entertainment makes serialization (at least in terms of the storytelling itself) about as antiquated as watching live TV with commercials.

I argued that there is an audience for serials and series. Readers enjoy following continuing tales with familiar characters or familiar worlds.

We no longer need to wait for a specific time on a weekly schedule to watch our favorite TV episodes. Hulu and Netflix stream our favorite shows on our own schedules. Readers can instantly purchase an entire novel for their Kindle, Nook, or iPad and read at their own pace in comfort.

Why should writers expect readers to wait for periodic chapters “fed” to them?

Some claim the web will revitalize serials (and short stories, and poetry) either by reaching readers with short attention spans or new reading habits emerging thanks to the web as stated in “Sorry, English major, the engineers have triumphed.” As the article points out, not all experts agree. Even though reading has been in decline since the invention of radio, the decreasing percentage of readers read an increasing amount of the long form. Of course, the problem with predicting future habits and consumer desires is that there is always something looming on the horizon that nobody has given much thought yet, and it bites our predictions in the ass. Readers have long attention spans and find time to read. Another hurdle I’ve discussed before in “Short Fiction Decline” and “Short Fiction Needs a Platform,” the short story market is shrinking even with the web! Can short serials reach a new audience?

Serial Experiments

Stephen King’s “N.” appeared both as a mixed media serial and as a traditional short story. Both versions tell the same story, but differ in the narrative compensating for the visual aspect of the serial. Some readers enjoyed the multimedia serial while traditionalists enjoyed the short story.

Was “N” a success? Plenty of readers tuned in to the episodes, but even more read it in the book. This is Stephen King, after all.

JC Hutchins serialized his novel into podcasts to great success launching his career. However, many other novel podcasts have gone nowhere.

Fiction on Blogs

Reading for a long period is uncomfortable at a computer. Fiction is unpopular on blogs. Most blog readers would rather read how-to, news, or opinion. Visitors here would rather read my crazy ranting on poetry or picking on a clueless high ranking professor. While waiting in line, readers scan news and opinion on their phones. Fiction readers want to get comfortable, curl up, enjoy the experience from a traditional book or eReader. Web readers tend to scan for information.

Want to reach thousands of readers? Take stories off the web into eReaders, or turn them into something new. The web is where you build your platform and share the really cool stuff.

Experiment: Dunston Monster

Normally, I would never expect readers to read something I would not read myself. I have an occasion read serials, so I decided to give serialization a try as an experiment. You may read my results. In summary, it turned out as I expected: traffic gradually lowered until the final episode when traffic spiked, and even then none of the episodes reached as much traffic as my best posts. “The Only Color,” a tiny flash, beat Dunston Monster in number of comments and traffic. I will never write a traditional serial again.

Serial and Series Strategies

A week is too long between 5-minute flash fiction episodes. Daily makes more sense for traditional flash, story fresh in the reader’s mind enjoyed a bite at a time over lunch or after dinner. Note that “N.” episodes arrived three times a week. A weekly flash series works best based on theme or character without a continuing story. For a thematic series, check out Friday Fables by Barry J. Northern. What about traditional serials? We find ourselves back at White’s point. Why not release the story at once? Let the reader do what the reader loves: read.

The audience for the traditional serial is small, and it’s no easy task competing against complete short stories and novels snatched instantly on eReaders.

The Penny Dreadful aims to resurrect serials including flash, mixed media, and comics. A hosted blog links story episodes and providing various authors with a common place to build a platform. In order to grow beyond the confines of a small audience, it will need to grow as well and break barriers. Visit them at tpdonline.wordpress.com and show them your support.

My advice: think different.

_______________________________________________________

What others are saying

• “Long Live Fiction: A Guide to Fiction Online“

Not-So-Scientific Stats

Views declined over the period of 7 weeks of 8 episodes, and comment counts declined gradually to a base of regulars. Note that all comments are by #FridayFlash participants. Other readers are shy.

Views by Parts + Contents

The graph on the left shows a general decline, which counters the goal of a serial or series, until the final. Part 5 included a drawing that shows up in Facebook thumbnail, and I tweeted it in addition to the story. Note that I’ve added weekly views of the Contents Page which is the primary driver for the spike at 8 when ePub download was posted.

Comment numbers averaged 13 on each part with peaks at episode 3 and final. Comparing to other weekly flash series by other writers (6*,) I see similar comment patterns including the same regular visitors. Keep in mind that comment counts primarily represent #fridayflash participants with a variety of styles and backgrounds.

I’ve hidden the view counts as traffic counting is biased. The graph reflects averaging two systems.

Top Posts Comparison

None of the episodes beat my best stories in traffic seen in the graph on the right in chronological order.

1. Darkness Was Her Dress
2. Mother Dove
3. Dunston Monster Part 2
4. The Only Color

Traffic to normal blog posts generally beat flash stories, and one post beats all my stories every month: “How-To: Make a 3D Photo” due to Google searches. (Except February, view counts to “The Only Color” just barely beat it.)

Conclusion

This is a low traffic blog, but the assumption is that the results generally scale. As expected, many readers will wait until the end or stop reading a serial. My stories, tend to come with layers and include details that aren’t immediately recognizable making them less suitable for weekly flash. Daily flash serial might work better.

I wouldn’t expect a reader to read something of mine that I wouldn’t read myself, and I wouldn’t read Dunston Monster at a pace of one episode per week. For that, I apologize. I will not present a traditional weekly flash series again. My post, Series and Serials, discusses the general case and why I decided to try a serial.

What do you think of my Dunston Monster conclusion?

*6 other flash series

• Nox & Grimm by @techtigger
• Twisted Family Bonds by @AnneTylerLord
• Jo Carter by @CascadeLily
• UCF by @FutureNolstalgic
• Tombs of the Blond Dead by @AlBruno3
• Anasazi Stories

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

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

• A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking.
• About Time by Paul Davies.

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

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.

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.”

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Dunston Monster ePub (zip)

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

You may download the entire “Dunston Monster” in PDF or ePub (zip.) This includes two previous Sebastian flash stories. Looking for ePub reader? Try Stanza or Adobe Digital Editions.

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

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

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

Warning: Violence

_________________________________________________

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.

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’“

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.