Not yet there

I don’t have clear what’s going to happen with Jesse and Machiko, and also the plot of the story. I don’t even have a title for the project. But I have an universe, a big scene, so maybe I can simply let my people evolve there, add some knots, and see what’s happening to them. To write at least 200 words per day is not a big challenge, the challenge is to write them in a coherent way, so that the reader is fatally engaged by the first ten words and surprised of the end when the entry is done. So that if I pack the posts all together, the result is a good, coherent, long read.

Actually, this is my third long plot, my third universe. The first one is the one of The echelon. The second starts with 1992. Both are unfinished, and they will stay like that unless I have a new dream to complete them, or I have time to pack them in an eBook form. But knowing myself, I will probably start yet another three plots, before coming back to the previous, blocked ones. What can I say? I’m an amateur, I don’t get money from it…and English is not my main language 😛

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I’m craving for strawberries. The ones from my childhood, the ones I was stealing from the greenhouse plantations. It’s been years since I try some. In the System, the taste of food is not a priority. It’s not like in jail, but you get the calories you need, nothing more, nothing less. If you don’t need a cake, or sweet strawberries, you don’t get them. And who really needs a cake? Politicians, diplomats, maybe. In a similar way, you don’t eat what is not supposed to be eaten by you. Like oysters. If you steal food, your right to choose will be removed. Yes, of course you do have food choices. Good food is happiness. It’s Opium für Volk.

Take for example the Spanish omelette. Or the Paella. Of course, they are no more Spanish dishes, since Spain is no more. The land is there, but not the borders or the identity. The country recipes are anyway good, and they are not complicated. So they give us that. The system has a giant Mensa: you will have either spanish omelette or schnitzel, but not spaghetti, if they don’t offer it. I have heard of people that cook, after weeks of collecting ingredients, and I also heard of clandestine restaurants. What a crazyness, to risk your life for a new menu.

Thinking about food is making me hungry, more and more.

So where are the moon animals? Am I the only one? I’m so hungry that I could eat a transporter, and knowing that they are some kind of giant vegetal whales is not making the situation easier. And where is the string I can see from the Yellow Earth, the string connecting both planets? Why can’t I see it now? If I find the string, I can find a transporter, and over it, maybe humans, humanoids, or simply a good conversation.

I jump as much as I can. I go up to 10 meters over the surface, I guess. Distances are tricky on a thin atmosphere, your eyes can deceive your brain. No, not a single move on the surroundings. I fall 50 meters away from the water crater, and before start walking again, I perform a test digout on the green goo.  Maybe I can find worms, or some similar insect. Worms are delicious on Earth, if you know how to fry them. I scratch, and scratch with my bare hands… but no luck. Not a single moving thing that I could appreciate with my bare eyes. No insects at all. The thin compost carpet covering this part of the Moon may be created only by local bacterias.

Before I escaped, my previous mission was to check against mine the academic level of the basic system education. Now everything is done with computers. They teach you to trust them.  I don’t need to pass through this chain of thoughts, since I was born analoge. That’s another advantage for me here versus a younger system minion, if they ever care to chase me.  I don’t trust on computers, I trust on math. I could, if needed, even solve a wave function, given the right parameters. I know the magic. I don’t need a computer to find the eigenvalues, just time. I was able to solve with a pen and a paper such a calculation, like diagonalize a matrix, when I was 10.  The problem I’m facing now could also be solved with math. The numbers behind life are quite simple in principle: water + oxygen + energy.  The math for complex life requires more factors, like the need to evolve, or the need to compete for a certain set of resources. If I want to find something more complex than the green goo, I need to explore the factors, I need to go to a more hostile piece of land. I need to reach the mountains.

Before I reach them, when I’m midway there, around 7 kms from my landing point, I saw it. From the privilege of the height of a jump, the first moon creature run away right under my feet. On a quick move, I managed to capture it, and even more complicated, I managed to start a small fire to cook it. I simply covered it with green goo, and threw it to the hesitant flames. I just finished devouring it. It turns out that the moon has indeed rabbits, and that they taste as delicious as their terrestrial cousins.

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On Earth, one of the greatest unsolved questions was if there was water on the Moon. If we extrapolate, the answer here on the Green Moon pretty obvious: wherever there’s vegetation, there must be water. The problem is how to get it.

Luckily I fulfill at least two requirements to be a successful segametsi, a water diviner. I come from a hot country, so I know about water deprivation, and I can stand without it for a day, maybe two. The second is, I’ve been trained for it.

The years of the military service on the System are compulsory. Although I was born before the system was established, at one point I was forced to pass through the army to get access to the most basic resources, like the right to live. To be fair, I must say I had a choice: the choice to do it or to be deported forever to the Zone. I had a taste of the Zone during the training, and I don’t regret I chose to live.

I never saw the enemy we were getting ready to fight. It was not presented to us. I think the issue was not whom to fight but to be ready for it. But thanks to the pass through my local Academia some years ago, I don’t get old anymore, and that is indeed something you need to be thankful of. While walking over the green surface, I try to remember the face of my instructor back in the 80’s, but I can’t. All that I get is an indistinct military face, of an undefined age, that could be computer generated.

I jump. I do this each 50 steps in my way to the nearest mountains, just to have a quick look around from the higher ground. From 5 meters above the surface, everything looks like a green field. Pity that the green goo that covers it all can’t be squeezed to get the water I need. That was the first idea, and of course, I took it from my training. Get a piece of tissue, wrap in green goo as much as you can, and then smash it until you release its juice. And nothing came out. Probably, with time, I could get the water out of it, like for example via distillation, but I don’t plan to stay here for so long, so I gave up that solution. The mountains seem to be like 15 kilometers away from my landing point, give it or take it, so I decided to go there, to look directly for liquid (or solid) water around the base of the mountain chain. If I don’t find it there, I may encounter another type of vegetation, that I know it must exist. With such a flow of matter between worlds, panspermia is a sure thing. In fact, I will not be surprised if I find tomatoes, strawberries, grapes, and similar plants coming from small seeds, since given the right circumstances, they must grow here. It’s not a moon of cheese, but it could be sweet to find them, so I will get both food and drinks in a shot.

And I wonder also, do we have native life? How old is this green goo, for example? As far as I know, life could have started here on the Green Moon, then migrated to the Yellow Earth. Just picture some kind of negative Earth-Moon system, where the Earth is the big and dead partner. Everything is possible! I jump again, and in the middle of the air… there it is! Water! Inside that small hole! I stumble in that direction, and fall over the little crater ridges of around 20 cm high. I taste it with the tip of my tongue. Ohh, it’s so tasty…I hope it’s not poisonous. I make a bowl with my hand and I drink, drink, and drink. Now I’m only hungry.

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A pile of trash

Maybe that’s this universe. A pile of trash. The reality here is like a goulash soup, dense in some places, where the meat lies. Opaque, dark, with unknown things floating on it. Maybe the Yellow Earth is the mass shadow of our earth, but the Green Moon another planet, brought here from an upper reality. Maybe we’re lucky, and our Earth is lying (was lying?) on a ground state of some kind of multiverse. In my picture, what I feel now, what surrounds me, is composed of eigenvectors of some kind of ideal dimension set. That is to say:  img47

The reality is one. How many world-wave-functions you experience in a place is undefined. How big are them also not. There you have it, I just explained the local non-euclidean geometries I became a victim of.

I roll to my left, and stand up. It’s time to move. I’m hungry and thirsty. The ground around is formed by something that looks like compost made of fruit peels, fish bones, dead leaves and old furnitures. I wonder how frequently the trash arrives, and from where. Does it come all from Earth? Close to me, I see a half-buried broken chair. A little further, a cupboard. A bed. I think I saw a similar scene on a movie in my childhood, something about a labyrinth. The landscape is not distracting my stomach, unfortunately, that chooses this enlightenment moment to call again for attention. The smell that comes from all the land is sweet, and suddenly I remember again another movie from my childhood, where the Moon was made of cheese. Will that be the case? Tentatively, I hop to reach a big white stone, 50 meters away from my landing point. The short fight on low gravity makes me feel more hungry. I pinch it, and as expected, it’s just a rock. And probably I will also not find rivers of wine here.

But I need food and water. After that, I must find a Transporter, and over it, I may manage to come back to the Yellow Earth. Either that, or I find around a tunnel back. Another question is, how could I detect one?

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The stars

But It looks so far, that planet. Earth’s twin. The planet that corresponds to the mass well on this dimension group. I decide to name it the Yellow Earth. And I’m on its Green moon.

I wonder how long will it take to come back, if I don’t​ have a tunnel, like the one I used for arriving. While I look the passing clouds over the surface of my destination, the light around me diminishes. Some kind or Yellow Earth eclipse has just started. I didn’t have time to admire it, but this soft plane is fantastic. It has a wild beauty, and the charm of the unknown. I’m not surprised the people that disappeared from my Earth decided not to come back. I still need to figure out some variables, but in principle the deal is always a winner: you can simply occupy one building of the planetary City, and find out how to exchange your abilities for food. Or plainly speaking, find food. In addition, you have the magic of the space anisotropy, that can let me travel to Mars in a day, if I choose the right trajectory, or to the Spice Market, if you need it.

The stars start to cover the sky. They look much brighter than the ones on Earth, since its light comes using different paths. I feel like I have a simplified version of Van Gogh’s Starry Night over me. I turn my head to the left and to the right, and the spirals curl, rotate, and mutate, some becoming smaller, some bigger. Like something alive. On the surface of the Yellow Earth, the effect is, most probably, buffered by the atmosphere, since yesterday I remember, clearly, a dark night. I try to localize Mars, and the other Earth’s companions. I focus, like I did on Machiko’s place, but nothing comes closer.

I’m not on it, not anymore close to one door, or a tunnel, or whatever you want to call it. A pipe. A curve. A soft spot. A door, after all. Maybe it’s a minimum of some kind. I finally stand and look around, to find out where I am. Over a pile of trash.

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The moon

I can breathe. That’s always good. Although the air tastes thin, and spicy, like the one from my childhood at the Atlas mountains. Also cold. Not to the poin of hurting when I inhale. I have no pain. I try to move. I’m laying on my back. No apparent problem, there I see my arms when I order my brain to extend them, my hands also respond, I think I don’t have anything broken. Above me, a ghostly view: a big yellow orb, crossed by clouds and the blue stripes of the river. I come from there. From somewhere above me. And I need to come back.

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Blog/reBlog, book/eBook

My stories, my dreams, my stuff. I’m trying to get, each day, despite of the circumstances, a little time to write. I always had a place to leave a record of my ideas. Even before I started to publish in paper. That place was a notebook, a piece of paper, and later on, one blog or another. For some stories, like the one I try to write now (the one that starts with The red house) this blog either not the right format, or not fulfilling my goals of what should be written here, at the speed you need.

So I’m thinking of doing it the other way around. I write it on a text processor, then I copy it here. Pro, you will get a more polished text, the con is, that if I’m not happy with the result of my exercise, you may not get a text at all.  Anyway, I don’t know if this change will even happen, so you may not notice it at all.

More of it if I’m pleased. Thank you for hearing the after-sex talk of a literary onanist.

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