text:
This story is now available to read on the Lightspeed Website.
You can also read an Author Interview
This story is now available to read on the Lightspeed Website.
You can also read an Author Interview
My story A Pound of Darkness, a Quarter of Dreams appears in the latest issue of Lightspeed Magazine.
From Eric Brown's introduction…
THIS VOLUME CAME ABOUT ONE summer a few years ago when Tony came up to Scotland with his family. We were wandering around the pretty seaside town of North Berwick and talking about recent short stories we'd written. Tony happened to mention that he was working on some short- shorts, which he hoped to place with Nature, and I mentioned a short-short market that I'd recently sold to, Daily SF. I then suggested that, when we had enough tales to form a volume, we should gather them all together and attempt to find a publisher. Years passed; we wrote short-shorts between bigger projects, and Keith Brooke who runs Infinity Plus Books expressed an interest in publishing Microcosms.
Microcosms: 42 pieces of flash fiction by Eric Brown and Tony Ballantyne
Published by Infinity Plus
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Anna Sinfield marched into the parks, when Angel Tower burned and Dream London fell. She marched to free the city, to end the madness, to find her mother and father. The day was won, but her parents – and thousands like them – are still missing, lost to the Dream World.
And now she has a chance to get them back. A man with gem like eyes has walked into her life, wearing a bespoke suit and bearing a terrible scroll. Mr Twelvetrees claims to know where the missing Londoners are; but to find them, Anna has to give up a life she's started to rebuild and go into the Dream World itself. Into another Paris, where history has been repeating itself for two hundred years.
Vive La Révolution!
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The sky was the colour of an unpolished euphonium, tuned to a dead key.
I paused. It didn't do to let odd thoughts pass by uVive La Révolution!nexamined. Dream London may have passed away months ago, I may have been living in plain old London once more, but strange thoughts still curled into the mind and tried to take root. If you wanted to stay sane, then those thoughts had to be examined, checked and classified. A dead key I thought. Exactly what colour is that?
The colour of this January evening, when there is no life to the world. When it's cold, but not winter cold. When the air doesn't burn the cheeks or fill thExtracte lungs with icy excitement, when the streets hold a chilly dampness that can't commit itself to rain. That's the colour.
I resumed my walk home. Beneath my duffel I wore a vest, a thick shirt and jumper. Hot sweaty air puffed from the neck and cuffs as I walked, but I didn't unbutton my coat. They may have been relaying the gas pipes, but they'd yet to make it to Hayling Street and so it didn't do to waste warmth.
The workmen had dug a service trench across the entrance to my road some weeks ago and had then, typically, forgotten about it. Yellow pipes lay curled up at the bottom, wrapped around piles of gravel, half submerged in puddles of dirty water. NothingSilver
The Social Worker unusual in that, the whole of London was being reconnected to the rest of the world, pipe by pipe, wire by wire. I used the narrow plank bridge to cross, jumping over the sickly puddle that covered one end, my heavy carrier bag banging my leg as I landed.
In Dream London, one of the many thoughts that had taken root in people's minds and flourished was that females were incapable of looking after themselves. Many of the people living in Hayling Street no doubt still imagined I needed a man looking after me. I could see the curtains twitch as I made my way down the street. Funny that, all that concern about my moral wellbeing, whilst other neighbours were left to go hungry.
I rang Mr Hiatt's bell.
"Corned beef," I said, holding up the carrier bag as he opened the door. "I tried for some milk but there was none left."
"Maybe next time," he said, pulling out his wallet. I could hear music playing softly in the background, and I shuddered. Mr Hiatt handed across a couple of Dream London dollars, the once bright patterns faded to dull mustard.
"You're a good girl, Anna. How's your Mum and Dad?"
"Still missing."
"I heard that they found another whale skeleton under Cooper Street. That makes four."
"I heard that, too."
The sound of violins playing on the radio wove their way through the house. Violins weren't so bad, I told myself. Still, I felt myself trembling.
"I wonder what's buried beneath our houses?"
"Best not to think about it, Mr Hiatt. Look, I've got to be off."
"Thank you for the food. Goodbye, Anna."
"See you, Mr Hiatt."
He closed the door, gently. I crumpled the worthless Dream London dollars and dropped them on the pile of rubbish overflowing from the dustbin, making a mental note to take some of his waste to the communal tip down on Katherine Street.
I continued home, turning to pass beneath the dark yews guarding the garden. The house was still too tall, just like all the others in the street. Workmen had been through and erected scaffolding a few months ago, making things safe: propping up a wall here, throwing polythene sheets over the spaces where the tiles had separated on the roof there. They'd even gone to the trouble of placing braces beneath the bedrooms that had grown outwards. One of the workmen had taken a shine to me, he kept asking if I wanted to go for a coffee after I'd finished school. His gaffer had told him to leave me alone, said he wouldn't like to think of one of his daughters living by herself. He took offence when I asked him how he'd feel if it were one of his sons, and I pointed out that there were lots of people worse off than me in London. At least I had somewhere to live.
The evening shadows made my home look as if it were dying. In the middle of this scene of unchanging stillness, the sudden movement of the woman waiting by my door made me start. She was drinking tea from a plastic cup. Something about that relaxed me a little. When she saw me, she drained the cup and quickly screwed it onto the top of a thermos flask.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Anna Margaret Louise Sinfield?" She pushed the flask into a large bag, speaking all the time in a broad Brummie accent. "I'm Petrina. I've come to check that everything's okay."
She fumbled in her pocket and produced a laminated card bearing her name and photograph.
"Social Services," I read out loud. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
Petrina was back in her bag again. That irritated me. It's not so difficult to keep things organised. Perhaps if she'd got herself a briefcase with separators instead of that impractical handknitted ethnic bag…
"Sorry to take so long, but as you can imagine we've been very busy! Oh, where is that… ah, got it! You know, I haven't had a moments rest since I was – bloody pen's leaked everywhere – seconded here last week. Ah!"
She looked up and smiled, a pad and pen in hand. "Shall we go inside?"
"I don't think that will be necessary. I'm perfectly okay, thank you. I don't need any help."
Petrina made a show of looking up at the crooked house. It was dim in the shade of the yew trees, the scaffolding further enfolding us as the January evening descended.
"I saw from that notice at the end of the road that this house isn't back on the grid yet."
"It will be in March. In the meantime there's plenty of candles at the distribution centre. And we're fortunate enough to have fireplaces and chimneys here…"
Petrina scribbled in her pad. She was going to patronise me, I just knew it.
"Anna, I don't think anyone would say that you've not been doing a fantastic job of looking after yourself. You don't need to tell me – oh, is it too much to ask for a pen that works? Ah, that's it – tell me about how brave you've been. But you're – how old, I had it written down here – sixteen, was it?"
"I'm seventeen. I'll be eighteen in two months' time."
In other words, old enough to be legally responsible for myself.
Petrina pushed her pad under her arm and fumbled some more in her bag
"Seventeen!" she mumbled, pen clasped between her teeth. "Sorry, this is bloody ridiculous! They expect us to do all this extra work without bothering to update the records…"
I tried being polite. "I can see that you're busy. Why don't you just skip me and go on to your next client? There must be far more urgent cases than mine."
It didn't work. Petrina gave me that look that some adults give when they think they're cleverer than you.
"Everyone is important, Anna." She turned her attention back to her bag. "Now, I've got your school records in here somewhere. According to them, your parents are missing…"
"They got sent to the workhouse on the last day of Dream London. They were marched into the parks…"
Petrina glanced up from her search.
"Marched into the parks? You're the third person today to say that. Is that some kind of euphemism? Are you saying that they're dead?"
"No. I'm saying they were marched into the parks. Didn't they brief you about how Dream London ended?"
Even if they had, it wouldn't have mattered. If you weren't here, if you didn't live through the changes, if you didn't experience how the streets moved around at night or how people's personalities were subtly altered, if you didn't see the casual cruelty, the cheapening of human life, the way that easy stereotypes took hold of people… If you weren't there, you're never going to understand what it was like.
Petrina adopted her experienced persona. Didn't she realise it would have had more credibility if she was dressed in a suit and not a baggy tie-dyed skirt?
"I'm from Birmingham Social Services. I was seconded here to help sort out the mess. Look, this would be a lot easier if we went inside…"
I was tired of standing in the cold, and she clearly wasn't going away. I opened my duffel coat and pulled out the heavy door key that I wore around my neck on a piece of string. Dream London had turned the door into a gothic arched portal of dark timber. There's a knack to opening the door: pull on the handle, a half twist and then push with your shoulder as you turn the key the rest of the way.
I tumbled into the hallway.
"Wait there, while I get some light."
Petrina wrote something on her pad as I felt for the box of matches on the shelf by the door. She really began to scribble as I struck the match and began to light the candles. Yellow pools of light sprang up one by one, illuminating a hallway that was slowly creaking its way back to its walnut-panelled glory.
Petrina followed me gingerly inside, careful where she trod. A line of orange Le Creuset pans marched down one side of the hall, ready to catch the drips from where the room above was separating from the rest of the house. Drips plip plip plipped into the pans at random, in A-flat, a quarter tone above E, a little too flat for middle C.
"It smells so damp." Petrina wrinkled her nose.
"That's because the house is leaking. It's okay in the kitchen."
I led her there. The warmth from the Rayburn smelled so good.
"I've always wanted one of those," said Petrina, crossing to take a closer look at the oven.
Her face glowed orange, and I saw that she was really quite pretty when you stripped away the worry. I thought I knew her type: she'd spread her compassion wide and shallow, rather than engage on the specifics. Or maybe I was being too harsh. She was here, after all. She was trying to do the job.
"Where do you get the fuel from?" she asked.
"There's a bunch of sheds in the back garden. I've been pulling them apart."
"Why did your parents have a bunch of sheds in the back garden?"
"They didn't. The sheds turned up when Dream London was dying. You really don't understand what it was like, do you?"
Petrina didn't like that. She didn't like being told that she didn't understand. She placed her bag on the table and took a careful look around the kitchen, noting the unopened cans arranged in a line, the clean plates on the drainer by the sink, the opened cookery book on one of the counters.
"You're feeding yourself properly?"
"I get free lunch and dinner at school as part of the Emergency Support Grant. I also get a food ration twice a week from the distribution centre." I didn't mention that I shared some of it with Mr Hiatt. She was here to see me, Mr Hiatt was someone else's problem. Actually, Mr Hiatt was no one's problem. That was the problem.
"What about water?"
"The water still runs. The downstairs toilet is working." The upstairs toilet had been blocked with mackerel. I'd scooped out as many of them as I could and buried them in the back garden. The section of the pipe that I couldn't reach was now filled with rotting fish, but I didn't feel the need to share that information.
Petrina seemed to remember something at that point. She was back in her bag, rummaging. I can't begin to tell you how irritating that was.
"Always too many – what's that doing there – got it!"
She pulled out an orange plastic folder and began to flick through it. I read the words on the front: London Disaster Zone Protocols, Ver 1.1
"I'm sure I saw it in here… prostitution, dog attacks, native and non-native birds… Ah! Here it is. Water supplies… I see. Thought so. It says here that not all water supplies can be trusted. Do you know if yours has been verified?"
"I always boil the water before drinking."
"It might be better if you were to get your water from somewhere else." She paused to suck her bottom lip, to look concerned. "To be honest, Anna, I'm not that happy with you living here on your own. What if someone were to break in?"
"Did you see the door? I'm safer in here than I would be in most places in London."
"What happens if you get ill? What if you need help?"
"My boyfriend's family makes sure I'm alright. I go round there sometimes."
Petrina perked up at that. I could almost see her thoughts, her excitement at the thought of teenage sex.
"And does your boyfriend ever stay the night?"
"No, his parents won't allow it."
"But you'd like him to?" she prompted, a little too eagerly.
"What? So I can have unprotected sex in a damp house followed by the possibility of pregnancy and a delivery at what used to be Dream London Hospital? Yeah, now you mention it, that would be a far better choice than studying Physics at university. Thank you Petrina, I think I'll give him a call right now and get him round here."
Petrina smiled.
"I can see you're a sensible young woman."
"Don't patronise me."
"I'm sorry… but you say this is a damp house?"
"Of course it's damp! All the houses in London are damp. The buildings are slowly shifting back to their normal form and now nothing fits properly. This house is as dry as anywhere else."
She shook her head.
"It isn't, Anna. There are places that have been fixed up." She was looking thoughtful now. She was solving a problem. I felt my stomach tighten. "To be honest, Anna, you shouldn't be living here on your own. I think you'd be happier in a teen hostel amongst people of your own age."
"I can look after myself."
"Even so, that's what I'm going to recommend."
"Why?" I was struggling to remain calm. Start shouting and she'd mark me down as a hysterical little girl. I had to remain calm. "Why? I've managed on my own for nine months. I'll be eighteen in March; in eight months' time I'll be at University. Don't you have more deserving clients to visit?"
Petrina's mouth became a hard line. She wasn't listening. I ploughed on.
"But I suppose they don't have such nice houses. I'm sure you'd rather be sitting here in this kitchen than in one of those flats on the Broomfield estate with the druggies downstairs and two drunk parents spoiling for a fight in the room with you."
"Anna, I think…"
"You don't want me to be able to look after myself, Petrina. You'd rather that you could help me, because that's how you validate yourself. Well, I'll tell you when I needed help: back when Dream London ended. Tell me, where were you then? Back home in Birmingham, no doubt. You know where I was? Marching into the parks! Whilst people like you just sat at home, I was marching into the parks!"
I could see by Petrina's face that she didn't understand what I was talking about, but it didn't matter, I was angry now. Angry at Petrina, angry at all the people like her…
"You're all here now, all the people who were nowhere to be seen at the end. You weren't there when we were fighting in Snakes and Ladders Square. But you're here now, and guess what? You all know what to do! You're all here with your advice about how we should have done things! All the politicians, all the bankers, all the parasites. All the people who allowed Dream London to happen in the first place and then ran off to hide when it was spiralling out of control. It's always the same, isn't it?"
"Anna, I think you're getting a little emotional. I'm only here to help."
"But you don't get it, because you weren't here! And if you were, I know where you would have been. You wouldn't have been marching, you'd have been getting pissed or fucking or fighting, or writing letters to the Dream London newspapers. Well, I was out there trying to make a difference. I saw half my band killed. I walked in another world. Then I came back here only to see the same old people taking control again. It makes me sick!"
I was shouting now. I was red in the face. I couldn't help it. You hold in the anger as long as you can, and then suddenly it all comes spilling out.
"You saw people killed?" said Petrina, flicking through her folder once more. "… Trauma, trauma… here it is…"
She read the passage, nodding as she did so. "I realise it isn't nice to get so angry, Anna. I realise that later on you'll feel bad for shouting at me like that, and I want you to know that I don't blame you. No, I don't blame you. It's just a reaction to the stress that you've been under. Perfectly normal, nothing to be ashamed of. But you need help, Anna. That's why I must insist that you go to live in a hostel. Somewhere you can be looked after properly."
I folded my arms.
"No. I don't see how you can, anyway. I'm over sixteen."
"That was before the Emergency Act. Anyone under eighteen living alone is our responsibility."
"Of course they are," I scoffed. "And what happens to the properties they vacate? Who takes control of them?"
"That's nothing to do with me, Anna."
"I bet it isn't. They wouldn't let do-gooders like you know what's really going on. You'll go home thinking you've done a good job and meanwhile some shyster will have taken control of my house."
She became indignant.
"No, Anna, it's not like that…"
"Are you going to drag me away?"
"I could return here with someone to escort you…"
"I don't think that will be necessary."
We both jumped at that. Neither of us had noticed the tall, dark stranger who had slipped into the house. The stranger who now stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Not looking at us.
Petrina's eyes widened in terror as she gazed at the intruder. Petrina hadn't been in London for very long, after all. No wonder she found him so… unusual.
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My story "If Only… " appears in this collection. The story originally appeared in Nature 489, 170 (06 September 2012)
If you've been reading this blog you will be aware that in between Marching to Time I've been writing a serial, Cosmopolitan Predators! for Aethernet Magazine.
Aethernet Magazine was launched so that readers could rediscover the joys of serial fiction. One side effect has been that the writers are rediscovering the joys of writing to deadlines. Take, for example, Ian Whates who pulled out all the stops to complete the final part of The Smallest of Things in style, or Juliet E McKenna whose fascinating take on the process of writing The Ties that Bind is detailed here on her blog.
What has my experience been like?
I went into Cosmopolitan Predators! with the story half planned. This is my usual way of writing. I find if I've planned a story in too great detail I lose interest in writing it, besides which, my stories tend to have a habit of wandering off course when the characters take on a life of their own. Even so, my original aim was to keep two episodes ahead of the current issue, and I'm now barely one issue ahead. This is not so bad, as I tend not to write stories in a linear fashion but rather in a random order: filling in scenes that interest me here and there and adding them to the finished piece or dropping them as the mood takes me. This means that as deadlines approach I find that I've already got half the story written.
But what about the deadlines? I like to follow my subconscious – my muse clearly has a butterfly mind, but nothing focuses her attention like a deadline. Cosmopolitan Predators! is a better story for being written to a deadline, I'm sure of it.
Deadlines are a writer's friend. Deadlines focus the mind. Deadlines get you writing. Deadlines are the difference between a completed novel and three years spent with nothing more than a file detailing your imaginary world and no actual story to speak of.
I sold my first SF short story ten months after I made an agreement with myself to write one 2000 word story a month. I wrote my first novel after making an agreement with myself to have it completed by the end of 2002. I only wrote Dream London, my first Fantasy novel, after realising that if I didn't set a deadline I would just keep on piling up ideas indefinitely.
And now the deadlines on Cosmopolitan Predators! are bringing out the best and the worst in me. Have you read the latest episode? I originally had that final line pencilled in for the end of the penultimate episode. But as the deadline for Episode 7 approached something began bubbling inside me and little voice whispered "Do it now! Shoot him now!"
"But that's too soon!" my sensible self replied.
"No it's not. Listen to your subconscious. You know you should."
So I did. And I think it was right. I got Episode 7 finished and I'm now working on Episode 8. All the balls of the plot have been thrown in the air and I'm working to catch them in their new order and go on juggling, but my subconscious is having a great time and my sensible self is reluctantly agreeing that it was right.
I just hope I can rely on it as the next deadline approaches…
Featuring "The Waters of Meribah" by Tony Ballantyne (Originally published in Interzone 189)
One of the most creepily memorable stories in modern SF
-David G Hartwell
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A bumper crop of 34 stories from authors who first came to prominence in the 21st century, compiled by two of the most highly respected editors in the business….Grab this book. Whether newcomer or old hand, the reader will not be disappointed.
–Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
In my more than 40 years working in the science fiction publishing industry, I've seen this notion crop up every 10 years or so: 'Science fiction has exhausted itself. There are no good new writers coming along anymore. The genre is finished!' Tor editors Hartwell and Nielsen Hayden thoroughly refute such claims….Twenty-First Century Science Fiction will certainly be recognized as one of the best reprint science fiction anthologies of the year, and it belongs in the library of anyone who is interested in the evolution of the genre.
–Gardner Dozois
Captain Jim Wedderburn has looks, style and courage by the bucketful. He's adored by women, respected by men and feared by his enemies. He's the man to find out who has twisted London into this strange new world.
But in Dream London the city changes a little every night and the people change a little every day. The towers are growing taller, the parks have hidden themselves away and the streets form themselves into strange new patterns. There are people sailing in from new lands down the river, new criminals emerging in the East End and a path spiralling down to another world.
Everyone is changing, no one is who they seem to be.
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Crunch crunch crunch. Mmmmm, mmmmm. Crunch crunch crunch.
There was someone in my room, someone crouching at the bottom of the bed eating something. Enjoying it too, by the sound of it.
Mmmmmm, mmmmm. Crunch, crunch.
What time was it?
My mobile had stopped working months ago; I hadn't bothered getting a clock. The threadbare curtains were lit by the yellow gas glow of the street lamps. I held my breath and listened for the knocking of the heating: the prehistoric machine that slumbered in the cellar woke me every morning, no matter how warm the night had been.
Silence. It could be any time between 10pm and dawn.
The bedroom door was locked, but things change in Dream London. I scanned the dim room through half closed eyes. The ceiling was a little taller, the room a little narrower then when I went to sleep. Ever so slowly, I slipped my hand under the pillow and found my knife, still the same knife, still in the same place.
The city changed a little every night, the people changed a little everyday. Christine had gone, and not one of the succession of women who crept into my bed had ever stayed more than one night.
Had I brought someone back to my room last night? Some woman drawn to the supposedly dangerous charm of Captain James Wedderburn? I had made some increasingly strange conquests in the past months, some I hadn't always remembered making upon waking. Was one of those women now curled up at the bottom of my bed, crunching and slurping with every sign of enjoyment? I wasn't going to find out by pretending to be asleep.
"Who's that?" I said to the room.
The crunching paused, just for a moment, and then the lazy consumption resumed.
"Who's there?" I raised my head and looked to the foot of the bed. I saw no one. I crept forward, the springs creaking beneath me, took hold of the brass rail and peeped over.
Two salamanders crouched on the floor, their bodies glowing red and gold with their own internal light. They'd got hold of a green beetle the size of a dinner plate and split it in two to lap at the yellow custard inside. One of them looked up at me with little jewelled eyes, licked its lips with a purple tongue and smiled in evident satisfaction.
Two salamanders were worth a fair sum of money. I was just wondering if I could move fast enough to catch them both when someone spoke up behind me.
"Good evening, Captain Wedderburn."
Startled, I turned to see the fat man lean from the shadows near the wall. He was balanced precariously on a little camping chair, the velvet clad expanse of his ample backside spilling over the sides. He unfolded a handkerchief and mopped at the sweat on his forehead.
"Luke Pennies," I said. "How did you get in here?"
As I spoke a wave of nausea that had been building almost unnoticed in my stomach rose to overwhelm me. I swallowed hard against the bile that rose in my throat.
Luke Pennies held out a hand. We both looked down to the glass vial in his pudgy palm.
"Two salamanders, one antidote," he said, and he turned to look at the red stain on the bed where I had been lying. I pressed a finger to my left shoulder and felt the sticky wetness of blood.
The fat man smiled. "One thousand sovereigns and it's yours."
"I don't have a thousand sovereigns. I don't even have a thousand dollars."
Luke closed his hand over the vial. He waved a finger at me.
"We both know that isn't true, Captain. They say you've got an interest in every young woman this side of the city." He winked. "Aye, and a straight twenty percent from every transaction they make."
"Nothing like so much as that."
"You don't deny you have money, though. It's said that you can find a shop that will sell you anything in this city, Captain Wedderburn. I doubt you'll find one in time to sell you the antidote you need. May I suggest that now would be the perfect time to start spending some of your ill-earned?"
I felt hot. Hot and sick. My nightshirt stuck to my body with sweat and blood, I had to fight not to throw up.
"Give that to me," I said, reaching for the vial.
"Careful!" he warned. "This glass is thin. Any sudden shocks and I might accidentally break it."
Slowly, I lowered my hand.
"This isn't your style, Luke," I said.
"Maybe not." A spasm of anger on his face. "But you really pissed me off the other night, Jim. You crossed a line there."
"Is there any point me telling you it wasn't me?" I shook my groggy head. "Probably not," I murmured. "Especially seeing as you've poisoned me."
"I can see you understand," said Luke Pennies, coldly. "So, which is it to be? One thousand sovereigns, or a slow death?"
He had a thin smile, a smile weighed out in ounces; it balanced a favour exactly with no warmth to spare. "That fire took half my property, Captain Wedderburn. It took three of my whores."
"What fire?"
The rent on the smile had expired. He leant forward, little eyes hard.
"Don't play dumb with me, Jim. You could see the blaze clear to the docks."
"My name is used a lot in this city," I replied. "Used a lot by a certain sort of person anyway. Everybody knows that I would have chased the whores from the building first. You must know that, Luke."
My vision was blurring now. I felt my hands starting to shake; the bite at my shoulder was throbbing.
"People change," said Pennies, but I could hear the edge of uncertainty in his voice.
"People change," I agreed. "This city makes people change. But not that quickly."
Again the bile rose. This time I could not choke it down. I spat something yellow onto the bed.
Luke Pennies stared at the spreading stain. Red blood and yellow bile. His voice was cold.
"Time to pay up, Jim."
"I don't think so," I said, my head spinning. "People don't change that fast. Not even you, Luke. You wouldn't come to my room to murder me. That's not your style. You want me murdered; you'd get one of your men to do it. That way, if the police caught up with you, made you read the truth script, you could honestly say it wasn't you."
I retched again, caught the vomit in my mouth, gulped it down.
"No, not your style at all. But if you could get your victim to commit suicide? That would be far more poetic. What if you got them to swallow a vial of poison? What a laugh that would be. And much safer, should the police come calling."
My head pounded, the sweat was cold on my skin. My tongue was thick and coated in bitter bile. Even so, I strove to speak normally.
"I think that the effect off this bite will be wearing off soon. In fact, I'm willing to bet my life on it. So I'm going to give you a choice. You see my jacket hanging on the rack there?"
Through blurred eyes, I saw him turn his head. My jacket hung there in green and gold glory.
"There's a pistol in the pocket." I said. "You want me dead so much, take the pistol and shoot me. Otherwise, I suggest you take your camp chair and your vial of poison and you get out of here, right now. Because if you wait too long, I'll shoot you myself. What do you say?"
Luke Pennies didn't say anything. Or if he did, I didn't hear it. My stomach was rising once more and I dropped to the floor and scrabbled under the bed, looking for the chamber pot. I pulled it out and vomited, all in one movement. Curled up over the china pot, stomach heaving, I was only vaguely aware of his leaving, of him trudging past, camp chair in hand. I didn't care, each spasm brought up more rainbow vomit. I felt as if I was dying.
Eventually there was nothing left in my stomach. Still I retched into the full bowl, until eventually this too ceased. I lay on the floor, waiting for the spinning to stop, lost in the middle of the night.
I forced myself up, looked at the blood stained bed, looked at the two salamanders now sleeping upon it, curled up around each other for warmth.
I needed to get outside. I needed some fresh air.
There used to be an underground station opposite my building. Over the past year it had metamorphosed twice: first into a railway station, and then into an inn. I remember the landlord holding court with his customers, telling us about the staircase leading down from his cellar into the tunnels through which trains had once travelled. The tunnels had shrunk, he said, tightened like sphincters. What remained of those narrowed, fat filled arteries was choked with black and green beetles, walking back and forth in long lines beneath the city, preyed on by silver snakes and cock rats.
"What about the railway lines?" I had asked. "Are they still there?"
That had been a quiet night, the few customers of the Recursive Lion had pressed up to the bar, glasses of gin and porter in hand. One of the other customers, a thin man with a huge red handlebar moustache, had laughed at my question.
"Haven't you heard?" he said, his moustache dipped in white foam. "The railway lines have surfaced three streets south of here. They're sliding sideways, heading towards the river. All the tracks in the city are moving!"
That must have been some time ago, I thought. Back when the changes were first taking effect and I was freshly returned from Afghanistan, a relative unknown. No one in that inn would laugh in the face of Captain Jim Wedderburn today.
Standing in the sallow street, gazing at repeated figures on the sign of the Recursive Lion opposite, I felt the nausea receding in the cold night air. I still had no idea of the time. The life of the inn gave no clue.
What is it that gives a building the feeling of life? There were people in there, I could tell, but that meant nothing. In the morning the place is packed with porters from the flower markets and the beery air is heavy with the scent of pollen. In the evenings the clerks and accountants line the tables in neat black velvet rows. The owners of the workhouse round the corner follow them in at about nine o'clock, propping up the bar as they raise a glass to other people's industry. After midnight the ladies and gentlemen appear, slumming it after the opera or the ballet. Later come the stevedores and the butchers, hooks and cleavers tucked in their jackets, ready for trouble. And at any time there could be sailors and matelots, making the most of their time on land and looking for the sort of produce that Captain Wedderburn supplies.
There was a clock in the bar that hadn't stopped working, despite the changes. A big white face with black Roman numerals and the name of its maker written on the front in curly script. I could stick my head around the door and see the time. I began to make my way forwards when a triangle of light swept into being across the road.
The door to the inn opened and Christine stepped out into the street. She saw me right away and gave me a tight little smile.
"Hello, Jim," she said.
"Not you, too, Christine." I said, tiredly. "Please, call me James."
We looked each other up and down, checking out how the other looked. She won that battle. Her tailored suit was well made, her dark silk stocking tops visible just beneath her too short skirt. Her makeup was immaculate: bright red lips and highlighted eyes stood out against her smooth, almost imperceptible foundation. And there I stood in my frayed grey trousers, my leaking black brogues and my gaudy military jacket.
"Found a husband yet?" I asked.
"Not yet," she said brusquely. "But I keep working my way through the list. Still giving candy away?"
"Do you want some?" I asked. "I have some in my pocket."
I meant the offer kindly, but she gave me a withering stare.
At that point my stomach rumbled, and I realised that I didn't want her to see me like this.
"Do you know what to do about salamanders?" I asked. "There are two on my bed."
"Speak to Fran," she said. "She's got a shop down on Holcomb street. She's good with pests and vermin." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a velvet purse.
"Here, I got you something." she said. "I was going to leave it with Second Eddie, but as you're here…"
"I don't need any money," I said.
"I wasn't offering you any."
She looked so smart and confident, dressed like that with her little piece of parchment in her pocket, ticking her way through the items on the list of men she had purchased, searching for her ideal husband.
She had bought the thing as a joke, back when the little shops were just beginning to appear here and there around the old city. Back when James Wedderburn was trying to live an honest life and had decided that he needed the love of a good woman to save him. Christine had been that woman, an old flame that had reignited.
Back then it was almost a joke to push your way from the summer streets into the dark, poky interior of one of the quirky little shops that seemed to grow in the glass and concrete façades of the city. I remember the little woman sitting in the armchair by the counter, how overdressed she had seemed, with her petticoats, her grubby skirt, her knitted gloves. The effect was exaggerated when viewed next to Christine in her shorts and crop top, her sliver flip-flops; all tanned flesh and confidence. Christine had handed across the money, all in coins, and the woman had given her a sheet of yellow parchment. We pushed our way back into the sunshine and Christine unrolled her purchase.
I remember the look on her face when she realised that my name wasn't on her list. I was expecting shock, disappointment, annoyance. Instead, she just smiled, rolled up the parchment and slipped it into her shoulder bag. She'd looked at it over the next few weeks, always when she thought I wasn't watching. I didn't realise she was taking it seriously, but, little by little, she had been changing even then. We all were: we just didn't realise it.
Now, one year later, and look at us all.
"What happened to you, Christine?" I said, softly. "You were training to be an actuary. What are you now?" I didn't say what I thought: more honest than a gold digger, less honest than a whore.
She paused, one hand in her purse, and looked down at herself, her smart suit, her silk stockings.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she said, and then she shook her head. "But what about you? What's happening to you, Jim?"
"I told you, it's James."
She shook her head. "James, Jim, whatever. I heard what you were doing now. It isn't… nice."
Christine always knew how to push my buttons. If her aim was to lock me up in sullen silence, then she succeeded.
"See?" she said quietly. "Who are you to tell me how to behave?"
"Things have been hard since I left the army," I said. "I have to earn a living somehow."
"You could be better than that, James." She spoke the words softly, and for a moment there was some of the old affection in her gaze.
"I used to feel as if I was, when we were together," I murmured.
We both stood in silence for a moment.
Then she remembered her purse. She pulled out my gift. A tiny roll of parchment.
"Here," she said. "This is for you. Don't dismiss it out of hand. It cost me a lot of money."
"What is it?"
"Your fortune."
Something about this gesture hit my like a blow to the stomach.
"Christine," I said, sadly. "Why did you waste your money on this? You know I don't believe in that nonsense."
"Just take it," she said. She couldn't meet my gaze.
"Is your name on it?" I asked.
"No," she said, looking at the ground.
I took the fortune and unrolled it just enough to read the first line.
You will meet a Stranger…
Just as I suspected. People were still preying on Christine's gullibility.
"It's so vague, Christine. Of course I'll meet strangers. This is a city."
"This Stranger will be special."
"Can't you see, Christine? This is all made up. You've been going downhill ever since you bought that stupid parchment. Why did you bother? We had everything we needed."
She looked at me with real pity then.
"James," she said, sadly. "Don't you see? I didn't buy the parchment to confirm that you were going to be my husband. I bought it to confirm that you weren't."
I couldn't meet her eye. I felt sick and lost and detached from everything. She folded her hands over the parchment in my own.
"Promise me you'll read it, Jim. It will help you. I still worry about you."
"The parchment is just stories. It doesn't mean anything!"
She fixed me with a gaze. Memory imposed the blue of her eyes over the dim light.
"Please, James. Promise me you'll read it."
"I promise," I said. Not that a promise from Jim Wedderburn means anything.
She gave me a brittle little smile.
"I have to be off," she said. "I'll see you around."
I watched her walk off up the street, leaving me alone and lost in the middle of the city, uncertain even of the time of night and, now that the poison was sweating from my system, with an empty stomach that was telling me just how hungry it was.
It growled at a changing world, one which was moulding me into someone I didn't want to be.
I took another look at the top line of the parchment.
You will meet a Stranger.
I shook my head sadly at the words, and pushed the parchment into my pocket.
Just then the door of the inn opened once more, and the stranger who was to change my life stepped out into the night.
The man was unmistakably a Molly. Framed by the light of the door I could see his dark red velvet suit, the striped golden shirt and tie. His red top hat was tilted at a rakish angle, but it was the foundation, the hint of eyeliner and lipstick that confirmed it. He was a good looking man, in an effeminate sort of way. And he was gazing right at me.
"Captain Jim Wedderburn, I believe!" he said, holding out a hand for me to shake.
"It's James Wedderburn," I replied, but I took his hand anyway. It was warm and smooth.
"Jim, James, what's a name to a Jolly Japer like you, eh? Jim, I'd like to invite you to dinner. What do you say? A little convivial company and conversation over comestibles?"
"I don't know," I said. "I was thinking of heading for bed."
My stomach rumbled, making its own views known.
"I don't think so," he said. "In fact I know that you weren't. I've been watching you, my Jolly Jim. Seven nights now, I've come to this pub, sat in the seat by the door through the lost hours, looking through the glass, just waiting to see if you would step into the night. Six whores have come and gone from your room, but no sign of the gallant captain in the night hours. Then finally, this very evening, I saw Luke Pennies enter your building, half hidden by a glamour, and I knew that this night would be make or break. I had a bet with myself that you would survive his dreadful attempts upon your person, and look if I wasn't right!"
"What do you want with me?"
"I want your help," he said.
"Help with what?"
The Molly waved a hand around the elongated buildings of Dream London, stretched out thin and sharp against the deep purple sky, the moon an over-large crescent that threatened to impale its horns on the city itself.
"Look at this place," he said. "I want you to help me to find out what happened to us."


text:
- Home >
- Evacuation Info
Evacuation Info
Oak Island Evacuation and Re-entry Checklist
As the Storm Approaches
- Listen to local radio and television stations for storm reports. You may register for Brunswick County's emergency/alert notification system by clicking here.
- Secure and protect your property.
- Plan where you will stay if an evacuation is ordered. The nearest public shelter is South Brunswick High School. (Note: Hotel/motel space is limited.)
- Check your supply of batteries, water, canned foods and medication. Purchase what you will need.
- Fill your vehicles with fuel.
- Obtain necessary cash from the bank.
- Plan how to care for pets. (Pets are only allowed at certain public shelters.)
- If you are handicapped or have special needs, please register with Brunswick County Emergency Services.
When an Evacuation Is Ordered
- Plan to be away from your home at least three days. Pack sufficient clothing, personal items, and needed prescription medications. If you are going to a public shelter, listen to the radio and TV for specific instructions on what you should bring.
- Carry proof of residency with you, such as a driver's license, property tax or recent utility bill or receipt, etc. Re-entry to the island may be limited to residents only. Carry insurance information and any other important papers.
- Leave promptly. Do not wait until the weather gets bad, because the bridges may close.
- If you are working off the island and need to return to evacuate your family, you will be allowed to do so if it is safe to cross the bridges.
- Police will be patrolling the Towns of Oak Island and Caswell Beach to protect your property. Please follow their instructions.
- Shut off and secure propane tanks before you evacuate.
- Evacuations are generally ordered during daylight hours and take several hours to complete.
- The order for evacuation will be publicized on local radio and TV stations, local radio, Oak Island's TV Station on Cable Channel 8, and on the websites.
- Emergency personnel may also broadcast evacuation information as they patrol. In some cases they may go door-to-door.
- Inform a family member of your plans.
- Turn off the water at the shut-off valve (not the Town's meter) and electricity at the switch or fuse.
- Lock your house.
- Emergency information will also be updated on a message at (910) 201-8088 as needed and as Town staff is able, given the current conditions.
Brunswick County Evacuation Shelters
- South Brunswick High School, 280 Cougar Drive/Route 87, Boiling Spring Lakes
- North Brunswick High School, 114 Scorpion Drive, Leland
- West Brunswick High School, 550 Whiteville Road, Shallotte
- Shallotte Middle School, 225 Village Road, Shallotte
- Leland Middle School, 927 Old Fayetteville Road, Leland
- Waccamaw Elementary School, 180 Union School road, Ash
- Union Primary School, 180 Union School Road, Shallotte
- Lincoln Primary School, 1664 Lincoln Road, Leland
- Bolivia Elementary School, 4036 US 17-Business, Bolivia
- South Brunswick Middle School, 100 Cougar Drive/Route 87, Boiling Spring Lakes
Take clothing, medications, sleeping items, books. NO alcohol is allowed. Only some of the Brunswick County shelters will allow pets.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Delta College Gets "Naked"
Saturday, May 22, I participated in Media Fest 2010 put on by William Story, the Radio-Television Instructor at San Joaquin Delta College in Stockton. An event about film, video, media, photography.
My principal contribution was participating on a filmmaking panel along with Hugh Lifton, Stockton-based Director of Photography, and Benn Ferrer, D.P. with Transvideo Studios in San Francisco.
I was the independent of the bunch and addressed the student filmmakers about my brand of one-man filmmaking because these were the exact audience that I wrote Naked Filmmaking for – people with the desire to to make films, but who don't have the big bucks to make a big movie, and can't afford to make a lot of mistakes.
This audience was exactly the group I wanted to pitch my filmmaking method to – a completely new bunch of filmmakers who I didn't know and who didn't know me.I only had a couple of hours to participate in Media Fest before I had to go onto my day job, but by the time I'd left I'd sold eight copies of Naked Filmmaking and a ninth copy was bought by one of the participants from Amazon, as well as four DVDs of the films.
These are the kind of people I want to reach out to and I want to send a big note of thanks to everyone associated with Media Fest 2010 for accepting me and embracing Naked Filmmaking so strongly.
Later in the day I got this note from Will Story:
"Thank you for generously sharing your knowledge and passion for making movies. You have inspired a group of student filmmakers to go forth and achieve their dream of making full-length movies. On behalf of these students, as well as myself, thanks for being so completely dedicated to the craft of making feature movies and then being so completely open to sharing this valuable knowledge with a new generation of moviemakers.
"P.S. Mike, I need 5 more books. For the MediaFest Video Competition we handed out cash prizes and your book to the first place winners. Even though I haven't had a chance to read all the way through the book from what I have read, I believe this book is just what my serious filmmaking student's need. Therefore, I want to award your book to the second place video winners, as well."
Then later got this e-mail from Solomon Stadtner:
"I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed your panel discussion. You seem to have a lot of intriguing ideas about filmmaking. Out of all the books that I've read about independent production, I've never heard something as practical as what you were talking about yesterday. I just ordered your book on Amazon and I can't wait to read it."
So, Will, my heartiest thanks for helping me to sell 14 copies of Naked Filmmaking and, more importantly, spreading the word that there are alternative, simpler, and affordable ways to making movies.


text:
February 10, 2014 09:01 ET
VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA--(Marketwired - Feb. 10, 2014) - Blox, Inc. (OTCQB:BLXX) ("Blox" or the "Company") is pleased to announce that pursuant to the Amalgamation Agreement with International Eco Endeavors Corp. ("Eco Endeavors") announced on June 24, 2013, the Company has entered into an amending agreement to extend the closing date of the proposed transaction to March 31, 2014.
"We are pleased with our recent progress towards the closing of the Eco Endeavors acquisition and view the proposed merger as a significant step from which Blox can build a solid foundation as a green mining company," said Ronald Renne, the Company's President and CEO.
Additionally, the Company notes it was recently mentioned in a news release by Mediterranean Resources Ltd. ("Mediterranean") regarding a proposed merger between the Company and Mediterranean. The Company wishes to confirm it has not had any discussions with Mediterranean regarding a proposed merger or investment therein. Further, Robert Abenante is not a current board member, officer, or shareholder of Blox. Robert Abenante is a current director and officer of Eco Endeavors, and the closing of the Amalgamation Agreement with Eco Endeavors is conditional upon Mr. Abenante being appointed as a director and officer of Blox on such closing date.
"I have not spoken to anyone from Mediterranean about a proposed merger or deal of any kind," said Mr. Renne. "Blox is currently focused on closing the two previously announced acquisitions and are very pleased with their progress."
Statements contained herein that are not historical facts may be forward-looking statements within the meaning of the Securities Act of 1933, as amended. Forward-looking statements include statements regarding the intent, belief or current expectations of the Company and its management including progress towards the closing of the Eco Endeavors acquisition and the view that the merger is a significant step from which Blox can build a solid foundation as a green mining company. Such statements are estimates only and reflect management's current views which are based on certain assumptions and involve risks and uncertainties. Actual results, events, or performance may differ materially from the above forward-looking statements due to a number of important factors, and will be dependent upon a variety of factors, including, but not limited to the Company's ability to obtain additional financing and the ability to close the acquisition of Eco Endeavors. Except as required by law, the Company undertakes no obligation to publicly update these forward-looking statements to reflect events or circumstances that occur after the date hereof or to reflect any change in the Company's expectations with regard to these forward-looking statements or the occurrence of unanticipated events. Factors that may impact the Company's success are more fully disclosed in the Company's most recent public filings with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission.
Ronald RennePresident & CEO604-688-3899
See all RSS Newsfeeds


text:
Client Team Support Intern
Provided by: Schneider Electric
The Client Team Support Intern available to at least freshmen standing students with an educational background in business, finance, math, economics, or related major. You must have a minimum GPA of 3.0 and strong analytical and problem solving skills to be considered for this position. As an intern, you will coordinate flow of data and invoices from client including investigation of problem areas.


text:
Change html template to look like another landing page jobs
To indenify an application source code to use it to build applications
I need some graphic design work created thats then ready to be printed onto tees.
...you would be regarded as accepting the project description. My budget for this project is $10, please bid only if you accept the budget. The deadline is 4 months. In order to keep quality of work and guarantee the timeliness of payment, the project will be done by 4 stages in sequence.(contact ways of 5000 companies for one stage. There are 4 stages
...have a document and I need it to look more professional than it currently does . I have an example of what it kind of needs to look like, doesnt have to be as flamboyant as the example document. Would like to stick to a navy +black+ white and grey colour scheme. would like it tidied up, as the table doesnt fit in one p...
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text:
Constraining Interaction to Create Emergent Narrative Greg Costikyan CEO, Manifesto Games Before 1973... People would have looked at you funny if you said something like "games are a story-telling medium. Chess? Monopoly? Candyland? Or even Afrika Korps? In 1973, two things happened
Download Policy: Content on the Website is provided to you AS IS for your information and personal use and may not be sold / licensed / shared on other websites without getting consent from its author.While downloading, if for some reason you are not able to download a presentation, the publisher may have deleted the file from their server.
Greg Costikyan
CEO, Manifesto Games
Colossal Cave:
...and Dungeons &
afternoon: a story (Michael Joyce)


text:
House of Commons
| Session 2005 - 06
Publications on the internet
Thursday 9th June 2005
The House met at half-past Ten o'clock.PRAYERS.
1 Racial and Religious Hatred Bill,Mr Secretary Clarke, supported by the Prime Minister, Mr Secretary Prescott, Mr Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr Secretary Blunkett, Secretary Alan Johnson and Paul Goggins, presented a Bill to make provision about offences involving stirring up hatred against persons on racial or religious grounds: And the same was read the first time; and ordered to be read a second time on Monday 13th June and to be printed [Bill 11].
2 Civil Aviation Bill,Mr Secretary Darling, supported by the Prime Minister, Mr Secretary Prescott, Mr Chancellor of the Exchequer, Secretary Margaret Beckett, Ms Secretary Hewitt, Mr Secretary Clarke, Mr Secretary Hain, Secretary Alan Johnson, Ms Harriet Harman and Ms Karen Buck, presented a Bill to make further provision about civil aviation, including provision about the funding of the Air Travel Trust; and for connected purposes: And the same was read the first time; and ordered to be read a second time on Monday 13th June and to be printed [Bill 12].
3 Consumer Credit Bill,The Consumer Credit Bill was, according to Order, read a second time.
4 Consumer Credit Bill (Programme),A Motion was made, and the Question being put forthwith, pursuant to Standing Order No. 83A (Programme motions), That the following provisions shall apply to the Consumer Credit Bill:
Consideration and Third Reading
Programming of other proceedings
5 Consumer Credit Bill [Money],Her Majesty's Recommendation having been signified to the proposed Motion relating to Consumer Credit Bill [Money];
6 Consumer Credit Bill [Ways and Means],A Motion was made, and the Question being put forthwith, pursuant to Standing Order No. 52 (Money resolutions and ways and means resolutions in connection with bills), That, for the purposes of any Act resulting from the Consumer Credit Bill, it is expedient to authorise
7 Adjournment, A Motion was made, and the Question being proposed, That this House do now adjourn(Joan Ryan);
8 Adjournment,Resolved, That this House do now adjourn.(Joan Ryan.)
Michael J. Martin
Mr Speaker will take the Chair at half-past Two o'clock on Monday next.
Papers presented or laid upon the Table:
Papers subject to Affirmative Resolution:
1 Northern Ireland,(1) Draft Budget (No. 2) (Northern Ireland) Order 2005; and
Papers subject to Negative Resolution:
2 Education,School Governance (Contracts) (England) Regulations 2005 (S.I., 2005, No. 1508), dated 31st May 2005 [by Act], with an Explanatory Memorandum [by Command] [Secretary Ruth Kelly].
3 Energy Conservation,(1) Energy Information (Household Air Conditioners) Regulations 2005 (S.I., 2005, No. 1531), dated 7th June 2005; and
4 Environmental Protection,Waste Management Licensing (England and Wales) (Amendment and Related Provisions) (No. 2) Regulations 2005 (S.I., 2005, No. 1528), dated 7th June 2005 [by Act], with an Explanatory Memorandum [by Command] [Secretary Margaret Beckett].
5 Financial Services and Markets,(1) Financial Services and Markets Act 2000 (Financial Promotion) Order 2005 (S.I., 2005, No. 1529); and
6 Lands Tribunal,Lands Tribunal (Salaries) Order (Northern Ireland) 2005 (S.R. (N.I.), 2005, No. 269), dated 20th May 2005 [by Act], with an Explanatory Memorandum [by Command] [Mr Secretary Hain].
Other Papers:
7 Audit (Northern Ireland),Report by the Comptroller and Auditor General for Northern Ireland on Education and Health and Social Services Transport [by Statutory Instrument]; to be printed [No. 32] [Clerk of the House].
8 Education and Skills,Government Response to the Seventh Report from the Education and Skills Committee, Session 2004-05, on Prison Education [by Command] [Cm. 6562] [Secretary Ruth Kelly].
9 Harbours, Docks, Piers and Ferries,Dockyard Port of Portsmouth Order 2005 (S.I., 2005, No. 1470), dated 7th June 2005 [by Act] [Ms Harriet Harman].
10 Government Trading Funds,Report and Accounts of the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre for 2004-05, with the Report of the Comptroller and Auditor General thereon [by Act]; to be printed [No. 49] [Clerk of the House].
11 Home Affairs,Government Replies to the
12 Police (Northern Ireland),Thirteenth Report of the Oversight Commissioner [by Act] [Mr Secretary Hain].
13 Water Industry,Report of the Director General of Water Services for 2004-05 [by Act]; to be printed [No. 50] [Secretary Margaret Beckett].
[W.H., No. 4]
Minutes of Proceedings of the Sitting in Westminster Hall
The sitting began at half-past Two o'clock.Adjournment (The National Service Framework for Coronary Heart Disease),Resolved, That the sitting be now adjourned.(Mr Vernon Coaker.)
Sir Alan Haselhurst
Deputy Speaker
|© Parliamentary copyright 2005
|Revised 10 June 2005


text:
Charlottesville was designated as a "Bicycle Friendly Community" according to the League of American Bicyclists. Our area provides a vast amount of scenic rides for both mountain and road biking, and coupled with public transportation - all of our buses have bikes racks - an alternative transportation method once you're here.
With the UCI World Road Cycling Championships (Worlds) coming to nearby Richmond in September 2015, Charlottesville is eager to welcome visitors from near and far to experience all we have to offer!
Major press announcement on June 4, 2015:
Press Pass - Team USA Cycling from Charlottesville PEG-TV on Vimeo.
Cycle with the pros, and train like never before! Downtown the Strava App.
Remember to peddle the roads safely, click here for more information.
Charlottesville Spotlight


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Creating readers
FIL Youth
In its constant search for readers, the Guadalajara International Book Fair created FIL Youth, a space designed for new generations to approach the authors that form part of the international literary platform.
Gatherings like One Thousand Young People with and Echoes of FIL are the two programs included in this section.
One Thousand Young People with
These sessions bring together a large public of mainly high school students with distinguished writers in order to talk, discuss, share and enjoy their experiences and readings.
Carlos Fuentes inaugurated the program in 1997 to a packed auditorium, where participants ended up sitting on the floor or remained standing next to the walls of the hall. That same year saw the beginning of the tradition of uniting young people with the winner of the now-called FIL Literary Award.
Echoes of FIL
Year after year, young students of the high schools of the University of Guadalajara system have the opportunity to gather in their own schools with writers visiting FIL. The purpose of these meetings is to foster the habit of reading among students through casual and friendly conversations with the authors of the works they will have access to later on, with the added motivation of meeting the creators.
Authors participating in Echoes of FIL go to facilities both in the Guadalajara metropolitan area, as well as to those around the state of Jalisco. It is fundamental to highlight the work of the teachers, as they are the sound box of these Echoes, they are who carry out the thorough labor of presenting the work of the authors that will visit them through their daily teachings in the classrooms.
For further information contact:
Coordinator of Young Adult Programming, Daniela Ascencio at the phone number (52 33) 3810-0331, ext. 937


text:
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The Ghosts of Thanksgivings Past
Scene One
The setting for Thanksgiving 2001: The Downing House in Englewood, CO, overlooking the Cherry Hills Golf Course where, at the 1960 U.S. Open, Arnold Palmer pulled off "probably the most famous come-from-behind win in golf history," (www.about.com). This was once the home of Jerry and Martha Dell Lewis who, as I recall, moved here from the Lone Star State with their family in the 1980s, having made their money in Texas oil as well as other successful ventures. The parties they once threw here were fabled, bringing to mind the antics of the Count of Monte Cristo. These were lavish affairs with exotic animals (giraffes and monkeys, for instance)–the kind of stuff that makes bold headlines in newspaper's social pages. And then, they gave it all up. They created a charitable organization and bequeathed their home to it.
Prior to my move to Colorado Springs, I was working in Denver and living on the Downing House property–in what was once the carriage house, to be exact–with a number of 20-somethings: singles, married couples, a mix of students, and volunteers in local youth outreach organizations. All had gone home for Thanksgiving (few who live in Colorado are native to the state). All had gone home save three of us: Teeq, something of a musician and chef; Albus, who had played football for Colorado State University and who had received his name long before anyone had ever head of the famous headmaster at Hogwarts; and myself, whose given-name and ethnicity ("Jeff" and "Caucasian"), admittedly, were on both accounts no where near as interesting as my two counterparts.
We three had been granted permission to use the kitchen and living room of the main house for our Thanksgiving celebration (just doing a little checking into the history of the house, it appears the scene of our Thanksgiving dinner in 2001 was also the set for a period scene from the Indie film Thomas and Sophie [see below]). Now, each of us had a role to play: Teeq, the chef of the three of us, was charged with cooking the turkey; I, who had become accustomed in college to throwing dinner parties, was to create two side dishes, one of which was whipped sweet potatoes with maple syrup and coconut (this was probably the first time I invented a recipe); and Albus? Albus set the table. To be fair, I think Albus also made Stove Top Stuffing. And, on second thought, this was definitely not the first time I created a recipe. No, the first time I created a recipe was a month or two prior when, for a community breakfast in the main house, I made lavender scones. Judging by the reaction of the 70-something neighbor Rosie (whose personality, I might add, is anything but) you'd thought I'd made the scones from algae. As my father or one of my uncles would put it, Rosie was a "real peach", and the inflection in their voices would tell you verbal irony was being employed. Lavender scones, hit or miss, this sweet potato recipe was right on the money. As was the turkey. As was the stuffing. And so, on this Thanksgiving, three individuals whose backgrounds and stories couldn't have been more unlike each other, became friends.
Scene Two
Another Thanksgiving Day away from family, a thousand miles from home, but one spent with dear friends. The Greeks speak of four loves: storge (the love between those who live in close proximity to each other, as exists between family members), philia (the love between friends), eros (the loves between the sexes), and agape (the highest form of love: a self-sacrificial love, especially for the "unlovable"). The friendship that existed between us gathered this Thanksgiving was an instance of philia, and (I believe) a higher form of philia, at that. What humbles me to this day is just how strong the bond of our friendship was, considering that represented around the common table were a Christian, atheist, and sometimes agnostic/sometimes Deist. The laughter, the intellectual stimulation, and the depth of sharing that marked our years together were amongst the greatest gifts this life has to offer. Not a Thanksgiving goes by that I do not think of these noble souls, especially since the turkey recipe that I use down to this day was introduced to me on this Thanksgiving Day, almost ten years ago now.
I can't help but think that these two scenes are a connection with the distant past, reaching back to the genesis of the Thanksgiving holiday when two vastly different peoples came together: Native Americans and the Pilgrims, two groups who couldn't have been–on the surface–more distinct from each other in terms of ethnicity, philosophy, and religion. And yet they shared and were bonded together by a common concern for–and goodwill towards–each other. These thoughts seem particularly poignant to me this Thanksgiving Day when the ideological divide in the nation that birthed the Thanksgiving Holiday seems more and more desperate with each passing year. Now it seems, more than ever, the time for men of goodwill to renew these ties.


text: New Search Back to Search Results 11342 Share Profile William C. Shiel, MD 5 out of 5 (92 Ratings) Specialty Rheumatology (Board Certified) Additional Language Spoken Spanish Phone (949) 347-6044 Address Mission Heritage Medical Group 26732 Crown Valley Pkwy. Suite 151 Mission Viejo, CA 92691 Get Directions Primary Office Address Mission Heritage Medical Group 26732 Crown Valley Pkwy. Suite 151 Mission Viejo, CA 92691 Get Directions Phone (949) 347-6044 Fax (949) 347-6069 More Information Website www.missionheritage.com Medical Groups & Affiliations Mission Heritage Medical Group The patient rating score is based on responses and comments from Press Ganey. Responses are measured on a 10 point scale, with 10 being the best score. These scores are then translated to a 5 point scale in order to display results in a 5 Star rating. Comments are also gathered from the same survey and displayed in their entirety with the exception of any language that may be considered libel, or may contain private health information, or is unrelated to the provider being reviewed. Learn more about Press Ganey star rating calculations Meet The Doctor Specialties & Education Primary Specialties Rheumatology (Board Certified) Education & Training Medical School St. Louis University- School of Medicine- St. Louis, MO Internship Irvine Medical Center- Irvine, CA Residency Irvine Medical Center- Irvine, CA Fellowship University of California- Irvine Medical Center- Irvine, California - 1984 Fellowship Veterans Administration Medical Center- Long Beach, California - 1984 Board Certification Rheumatology Board Certification Internal Medicine Biography Biography Biography Dr. Shiel received a Bachelor of Science degree with honors from the University of Notre Dame. There he was involved in research in radiation biology and received the Huisking Scholarship. After graduating from St. Louis University School of Medicine, he completed his Internal Medicine residency and Rheumatology fellowship at the University of California, Irvine. He is board-certified in Internal Medicine and Rheumatology. He is a Fellow of the American Colleges of Physicians and Rheumatology. Dr. Shiel is in active practice in the field of rheumatology in south Orange County, California with the Mission Heritage Medical Group. He has served as a teaching Associate Clinical Professor of Medicine at University of California, Irvine. He has also been chairman of the Department of Internal Medicine at Mission Hospital Regional Medical Center. He was selected as one of the most respected doctors in Orange County California in a poll of more than 5,000 physicians in the county performed by the Washington D.C. based Center for the Study of Services as published in Orange Coast magazine. Dr. Shiel has authored and served as a reviewer for numerous articles on subjects related to arthritis for prestigious peer-reviewed medical journals and has published clinical rheumatology research. He has co-edited three medical textbooks. He is Co-Editor-In-Chief of three editions of the Webster's New World™ Medical Dictionary. He has lectured in person and appeared on television and radio programs both for physicians and the local community. He was a medical commentator for the national news broadcast of medical issues related to the death of Pope John Paul II, Fox News NYC, April, 2005. He has authored numerous expert medical-legal reviews. He is a contributor for questions for the American Board of Internal Medicine. He is a regular reviewer of board questions on behalf of the American Board of Rheumatology Subspecialty. He served on the Medical and Scientific Committee of the Arthritis Foundation and the Medical Advisory Board of Lupus International. Dr. Shiel is Chief Editor and co-founder of the medical information website, MedicineNet.com. He has authored hundreds of articles for the website, now a subsidiary of WebMD. He is the editor of a popular book for mothers of twins, Twinthusiasm . Certifications Board Certified Internal Medicine, 1980 Board Certified Rheumatology, 1982 Fellow, American College of Physicians and Rheumatology Associate Clinical Professor of Medicine, University of California, Irvine Dr. Tom Dooley Society, University of Notre Dame Charter Member Pre-Professional Studies Mentor 2005- present Reviews Reviews About Our Survey 8-May-2018 *Dr. Shiel is the only dr. I have that genuinely seems concerned with my health. I wish he was my primary internist. 22-Apr-2018 always great! 29-Mar-2018 *Dr. Shiel is wonderful! 28-Mar-2018 Dr Shiel is an excellent care provider! 26-Mar-2018 Dr. Shiel is one of the finest doctors I have ever had for any problem. He explains things, takes his time and is so caring. I would highly recommend him to anyone. I feel well taken care of after a visit with him. 14 Total Comments Page 1 2 3 Next Back to Search Results


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You Can't Detect What You Can't See: Illuminating the Entire Kill Chain
Key differentiators: 100 percent open source solution and a major contributor to the Apache Hadoop project.
Hortonworks is always on the leading edge of Hadoop and is committed to the use of open platforms for enterprise solutions surrounding big data and big data analytics. Forrester Research named Hortonworks as a technology leader and ecosystem builder for the entire Hadoop industry. Hortonworks has more volunteers involved in the Hadoop Project than any other commercial entity.
Hortonworks and a consortium of other companies developed Apache Atlas to meet the needs of working with metadata and data governance. "Atlas enhances governance capabilities in Hadoop for both prescriptive and forensic models enriched by taxonomical metadata." Atlas is designed to exchange metadata with other tools and process inside and outside of the Hadoop stack. It also enables platform-agnostic governance controls that address enterprise compliance requirements. Atlas currently holds incubator status in Apache's project list.
Key differentiators: If there's a name that's synonymous with big data, it's IBM. The IBM Open Platform (IOP) uses a 100 percent open source solution and is 100 percent free.
IOP contains 16 different Apache projects and has full support for the Open Data Project, which is a shared effort to promote and to advance Hadoop for the enterprise. IBM offers multiple tiers of its product. You can download the IOP free of charge or select a supported offering and use it on premises. You can use IBM's Hadoop-as-a-Service on its SoftLayer cloud infrastructure to alleviate the pain of managing your own hardware and networking components. On top of the basic underlying infrastructure and software, IBM offers up its BigInsights for Apache Hadoop product for your advanced analytical needs.
IBM's BigInsights includes: Hadoop, SQL-on-Hadoop, business analytics tools, advanced analytics, accelerators, optimized performance, management, seamless data integration, and real-time streaming analytics.
Key differentiators: MapR is the only distribution that allows Hadoop to be accessed via the Network File System, or NFS. NFS allows faster data management and system administration without requiring multiple steps to move or to access data.
MapR provides a production-ready distribution that runs both online and analytical processing and applications on a single platform. This means that you can run more applications on one Hadoop cluster and minimize your operational costs.
MapR runs the world's largest single production clusters of Hadoop that includes:
Linear scalability that exceeds the 100 million files limit in the Hadoop Distributed File System (HDFS), distributed metadata architecture scaling to trillions of files and tables capable of storing and processing thousands of petabytes per cluster, and processing of files and tables in one distributed storage layer. This allows NoSQL and Hadoop applications to work seamlessly on a single platform.
MapR also provides Hadoop high availability everywhere across all Apache Hadoop projects and demonstrates 99.999 percent availability.
12. Pentaho Big Data Analytics
Key differentiators: Pentaho combines data integration with analytics and features a unique "in-Hadoop" execution that results in extremely fast performance.
Pentaho's offering connects natively to Hadoop, to NoSQL, and to analytic databases, features a visual designer for MapReduce jobs, allows you to model and explore unstructured data sets, provides a multi-threaded data integration engine, and supports cluster nodes.
Pentaho's solution also includes what it calls its adaptive big data layer that gives you the capability to access data once, process it, combine it, and consume it anywhere. It supports Hadoop distributions from Cloudera, Hortonworks, and MapR.
Key differentiators: Pentaho produces its own components for big data analytics that includes Pivotal HD, Pivotal Greenplum Database, Pivotal GemFire, and Pivotal HAWQ.
Pivotal's Hadoop distribution, Pivotal HD is 100 percent Apache compliant, uses other Apache components, and is based on the Open Data Platform. Pivotal GemFire is a distributed data management platform designed for diverse data management situations, but is optimized for high volume, latency-sensitive, mission-critical, transactional systems. The Pivotal GreenPlum Database is a shared-nothing, massively parallel processing (MPP) database used for business intelligence processing as well as for advanced analytics. Pivotal's HAWQ is an ANSI compliant SQL dialect that supports application portability and the use of data visualization tools such as SAS and Tableau.
14. Supermicro
Key differentiators: Supermicro's differentiator in this group is that it is a provider of the underlying commodity hardware that your Hadoop clusters run on.
Supermicro has partnered with Cloudera and Hortonworks to provide turnkey Hadoop cluster solutions to your business, should you decide to host your own Hadoop infrastructure. Your Hadoop implementation won't even be worth its free price if your hardware is a bottleneck to your large data set processing.
Supermicro takes the guesswork and the opinions about which software works best with which hardware for the best performance and for the best price.
15. Zettaset Orchestrator and Zettaset BDEncrypt
Key differentiators: Zettaset offers Hadoop cluster management software and encryption software for Hadoop data.
Zettaset tackles two very tough jobs for Hadoop: management and encryption. Encryption, while great for security, is usually not a great performer, but Zettaset's BDEncrypt solution boasts high performance, standards-based encryption for your valuable Hadoop data.
Zettaset Orchestrator is a Hadoop management solution that enables you to address requirements for security, high availability, manageability, and scalability in a distributed computing environment. It includes encryption, role-based access controls, automation options, interoperability with BI and analytics platforms, and maintains your database availability and reliability.
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text: Hey guys, I am sure other people have asked this but I can't find an answer. I have an m3 simply (current FW). I can load cheats on my card using .xml files imported through r4cce and saved as .dat, but I cannot get my custom hex codes to show up with the "Cheat (Y)" option that lets you push Y to enable AR codes. It's like it doesn't register the games. I checked and my game ID codes are correct. I even tried putting them in the XML file first then importing them with the CCE, but they still don't show up. Like I said, codes I download and import work fine....it is only these custom codes that won't register. Finally, my database is small so it isn't that I am running out of room for codes. Thanks


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Hillywood "The cinema to the people"
For the past twelve years, the Rwanda Film Festival has brought beauty, laughter, entertainment and education to the remote hills of Rwanda with our traveling Hillywood program. Spending each day in a new location, the Hillywood portion of the festival brings together hundreds of filmgoers to enjoy the beauty of the seventh art.
The section mostly features local talents. 90 percent of all the films shown during our travelling cinema are made in Kinyarwanda, allowing us to reach Rwandans everywhere and ensuring that our message is clear. Each day of Hillywood is both artistically and morally rewarding. Most of those enjoying our outdoor screenings have never seen a film made in Kinyarwanda by local Rwandan filmmakers and actors before. The first time they experience cinema in their own language is always moving for them. The powerful audience reaction to Hillywood gives us many reasons to make sure that we are working hard to keep this wonderful tradition alive in every edition of our festival.
The sense of discovery is what makes of this section unique and also what cements it as one of the most important parts of the festival. This year, with the celebration of the 22 years of liberation and 22 years of a peaceful, hard-working society, we want to share more. We want to highlight how much has been accomplished on various level, from private to public sectors. With this in mind, we will bring corporate documentaries and short films to the community in addition to the the festival's own programming.
We aim to reach 500 to 1000 people at each one of our locations. This edition is very dear to us, as we will be celebrating our 12th anniversary. Our planned locations, especially Butare, have been home to the Rwanda film festival since our very first years. In keeping with the theme of "Versatility" we will be going back to most of the places where we've been before to celebrate with the people who have made Hillywood a success. We hope you will join us and make of this year's Hillywood the best one yet!


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Muscle Shape is genetically determined. If you look carefully at the young Gironda you can see his innate shape which maturity and training developed.
His unusual pec line that inserted lower into the humerus than with most trainees was already there as a young man—albeit in a less developed form. Same is true for split biceps with high peaks (Albert Beckles) or unusual splits in chest development.
One of the things Vince told me (privately) was that you should never try to build muscle where it isn't. He meant if you did not have the capacity for a certain shape (like not having upper chest developed ala Steeve Reeves) one should not attempt to do specific exercises in the hope of altering that genetically pre-determined factor.
This seems a contradiction to other things he said about 4 sides to a muscle, illusions, etc. But with enough discussion with him I realized it was not. The physiological logic behind his multiple exercises (though never stated) is that more muscle fibers can be fatigued which theoretically maximizes one's growth. Also, certain exercises are more likely to develop certain muscles to the fullest—in any particular trainee. For example, it makes sense to use lateral raises—for everyone—if wishing to develop maximally the medial head, thus creating an "illusion" of greater width when combined with a diet that kept the bodyfat low especially in the midsection.
The other thing to understand is that Vince was never married to his own ideas and was always experimenting. He was in competition with himself, and changed his mind at times—probably often. Nonetheless, genetic factors are central to any real understanding of bodybuilding—or Vince.
I trained a week with Freddy Ortiz (a Vince disciple). And though Freddy does not know it, his freakish upper body development (especially his arms) could have been developed doing most anything due to his genetically determined long biceps muscle bellies stretched across a comparatively short bone. Point is, no routine or biceps exercise—no matter how performed— will make someone else look like Freddy unless they have genetics just like him.
I have a friend who is a Mr. America winner. He has incredible legs, narrow hips, and proportionally developed glutes; a lower body Vince would have admired. Yet he squatted **all the time** as his main "leg" movement and deadlifted also. He looked that way because his genetics dictated the development.
The good news is that you can develop your own shape to its fullest likely using simple, equipment and incorporating isolation exercises (in addition to compounds). But there are usually several choices of either. So don't get hung up on any particular movement or the need to acquire certain machines. Proper understanding of physiology and kinesiology informed Vince's ideas. That knowledge is available to all of us with proper study. In that regard, books like "Gray's Anatomy" and some physiology/kinesiolgy books can greatly inform us. To his credit, Vince looked into these issues when nobody else did.
At the end of the day it is all really simple. Train smart, eat well, rest well, and genetics takes care of the rest. There are no magic routines or exercises. And that's actually good news.


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Vatterott Educational Centers, Inc. has established a scholarship program to assist their students to continue their education. Scholarships are offered each year for study in a full- or part-time course of study chosen by the student at an eligible Vatterott Educational Center, Inc. program.
The program is administered by Scholarship America®, the nation's largest designer and manager of scholarship, tuition assistance and other education support programs for corporations, foundations, associations and individuals. Awards are granted without regard to race, color, creed, religion, sexual orientation, age, gender, disability or national origin. In order to be eligible for the general Scholarship, the candidate must meet the following criteria: