Prodominal Prologue (Day 1)

2021: Biosphere Down

Prodrominal Prologue

There is an adage about mutations in a chromosome. Mutations are accidents, and while most of the time, they will be deleterious and harmful, sometimes mutations are able to make an organism stronger or better. The same is true in relationships fix something that was thought to be forever broken.

When Theresa Katz became a widow in the spring of 1992, the cause was an accident. Her husband of fifteen years, had been in a rental car on a business trip, when a large, delivery van traveling in the opposite lane suddenly veered right into the path of the rental because it had broken a tie rod. Theresa’s husband had been killed instantly. The funeral, though, ended up patching an old, festering wound between daughter and father. She, had longed to see her father, but since his abrupt departure when she was in high school, she only received cards on holidays. He, having desperately missed her, had hoped to find a way to see her and also to know his unknown grandchildren before he died. The funeral allowed this healing between daughter and father to begin.

That summer, Theresa, with her two children in tow, had a neighbor drive them from their home in Chelsea, Michigan to Detroit, where they boarded the Amtrak and proceeded on a journey across the nation,

In the train, Benjamin, the younger of the two children, said, “Why didn’t we ever get to visit Grandpa Gough before?”

His mother wistfully looked out the window of the train at the countryside sliding past. The prairie grasses seemed more robust and vibrant than she had remembered from her trips when she was young.

She said in a hesitant, quiet voice, “Sometimes, it is not really something that was meant to happen, but it simply did. When grandma and grandpa divorced, it was very hard for me to understand. I felt abandoned by him, and I grew to ignore and avoid him as well.”

Her voice trailed off as she thought about the storm of emotions that welled up in her each time she thought of those early months following the divorce. She had never felt such intensity of emotion or fear, and hoped she would never experience that again. Yet, only now did she see that this sort of harsh, deep emotion was a part of most every memory she had, through to her own husband’s untimely death. In this way, it appears that time had proven to her that the pain and the sorrow were to be a permanent part of the life she had chosen. Pain in the loss of the contentment of her married life. Pain as she saw how squalid her life was to become. The pain of having had to be estranged from her father, the sorrow that never seemed to die.

Benjamin asked, “But how did it all start? Why did Grandma and Grandpa divorce?”

It was difficult, if not impossible to a 10-year-old the reasons for the split between two people who loved each other as deeply as her mother and father had. It was nearly impossible for her to understand it even though she, herself had lived through it. It seemed almost impossible to think of academia and the pull it had, being so strong as to tear a family apart. But it had.

But even so, now she was feeling sorry it had kept her apart, and by default her (now dead) husband, and their two lovely children, from being able to share joys with her father.

She said, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” And she meant it.

Olivia set down her book of puzzles. Two years older than Benjamin, Olivia had a bright, enthusiastic demeanor. She was much more artistic and craft oriented than her brother. However, her artistic sensibility came with a price, for if she became tired, she would also easily have an emotional meltdown.

“What is it like in California?” she asked, picking another small piece of the Danish her mother had gotten from the food car earlier in their trip and gingerly placing it in her mouth.

“It is beautiful... but wait, I do not want to describe it for you, for I want you to experience it yourself with a fresh mind.”

Theresa had spent her high school and adult life in Michigan, her parents having moved there for joint positions at the University, but before they had lived throughout various parts of California, as her parents vagabonded around the state from one Post-Doc to another, one adjunct position to another as they searched for a school that would take both of them in tenure track positions in their respective fields.

Preparing for NaNoWriMo 2008

Well, Folks...

This will be my fourth attempt at NaNoWriMo efforts. Only ONE time did I actually write anything. I am aiming for this year to be different. I have this wonderful blog that I have entitled "The Grates of Rat" for my original attempt at writing a novel. But, I am no longer as interested in that effort, so, instead of my new "book" being called The Grates of Rat, it will be me who *is* the Grates of Rat.

Instead, the current working title of my 2008 NaNoWriMo effort is "2021 - Biosphere Down" It shall be a novel of epic [cough] science fiction proportions. I am going to ruminate on the story line from now until November 1st, when I will start writing. Wish me luck.

PipeTobacco

Part 1 : Chapter 1

It was peaceful. He rested against a short concrete wall on the top level of the Washington Street Parking Structure and felt disconnected and aloft. Above him was a light grey sky with just a hint of the sun starting to break through the early morning fog.

There was no sound other than that of his own heartbeat and the slowing breathing as he recovered from the climb up the stairs to the top floor of the parking structure. When up here, he felt he was at one with the universe.

After some time, he stood and looked about. Over the edge of the wall he peered down and saw the remnants of a once vibrant and proud city. This city was now much less vibrant, but he could see people below as they began to rustle the remaining businesses to life for the day. The few trees had already began to display autum’s hues of oranges and yellows.

The air itself had a bite of Fall; the breeze moved slowly and tingled the bare skin of his forearms. He gulped this air in like a ice-cold beer; there were no limits to what he could accomplish today.

He moved over to the edge of the structure, peered down below him into the empty alleyway, and began hauling a series of items out of his backpack. Inside were sandwiches, a two-liter Mountain Dew, a first aid kit, and (pigeon supplies?).

Testing the Waters

This is simply a test to see if I have correctly set up the comments and posting sections for this site. The bits and pieces of the novel shall stream in soon.