The warp core thrummed on its lazy cycle as Geordie LaForge layed under the console beside it performing a diagnostic. He had been under almost every console in Engineering trying to track down this problem. it had started about 2 days ago when the Enterprise had finished running some short range scans on a previously unknown type of ringed gas giant. After they had warped away he had started to notice the differences in the power readouts; just a few points at first, then a few percents, and now getting worse. As Chief Engineer he was silently seething over it he had no idea what was causing it.
That was when Lt. Barclay entered Engineering whistling an almost familiar tune.
"Good Morning Chief!", exclaimed Barclay, "Fine day to run diagnostics isn't it?"
"Whatever you say Reggie," said Geordie, slightly distracted, something had his mind buzzing but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Childhood Twilight (The Twilight of Childhood?)
"Oh what a save!", Desmond shouted as he rolled over onto the ball, his legs extended into the air. He had thrown the leg pads up in a desperate attempt to repel Tim's rebound and had succeeded in muting the shot.
"Nice one Des, I thought I had you," said Tim receiving the old tennis ball as Desmond scrabbled up in his 'crease'. Crease being a fairly accurate description on the canvas covered driveway. Most of that same driveway was cast in shadows now and the boys could feel the truly good hours of hockey ending and the truly good hours of bonding approach.
"Nice one Des, I thought I had you," said Tim receiving the old tennis ball as Desmond scrabbled up in his 'crease'. Crease being a fairly accurate description on the canvas covered driveway. Most of that same driveway was cast in shadows now and the boys could feel the truly good hours of hockey ending and the truly good hours of bonding approach.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
How to Avoid Hypochondria
Hypochondria is the condition of suffering from an imaginary ailment or symptoms and in 2009 almost anyone can suffer from it. The way to avoid Hypochondria is by avoiding it's chief cause: The Internet.
Never, ever, look up a symptom list for a malady you think you may on some remote level have, all that will happen is that you will begin to think that every minor discomfort is in fact one of the symptoms. Worst of all is looking up an isolated symptom on somewhere like WebMD and linking to all the wonderfully scary diseases and ailments that it could indicate. Stay away from that unless you want to attribute some harmless sleeplessness (brought on by stress no doubt) to a pending stroke or some bizarre syndrome of the day.
I've been sick since last week with a decently bad cold and started to feel better by Tuesday of this week. I felt achy by late Tuesday and rundown and achy with a headache on Wednesday and decided to look up symptoms for H1N1. Next thing you know I'm up at staff health getting my temperature taken because I am sure I have a fever. Needless to say the nurse indicated my temperature was fine.
Fever or no, I am still sick, with a cough and running nose and fuzzy-head, but so far I'm really not in any position to think I have H1N1 as I lack several major symptoms. Give it enough time and my brain can manifest those too. Thanks, Internet.Publish Post
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Never, ever, look up a symptom list for a malady you think you may on some remote level have, all that will happen is that you will begin to think that every minor discomfort is in fact one of the symptoms. Worst of all is looking up an isolated symptom on somewhere like WebMD and linking to all the wonderfully scary diseases and ailments that it could indicate. Stay away from that unless you want to attribute some harmless sleeplessness (brought on by stress no doubt) to a pending stroke or some bizarre syndrome of the day.
I've been sick since last week with a decently bad cold and started to feel better by Tuesday of this week. I felt achy by late Tuesday and rundown and achy with a headache on Wednesday and decided to look up symptoms for H1N1. Next thing you know I'm up at staff health getting my temperature taken because I am sure I have a fever. Needless to say the nurse indicated my temperature was fine.
Fever or no, I am still sick, with a cough and running nose and fuzzy-head, but so far I'm really not in any position to think I have H1N1 as I lack several major symptoms. Give it enough time and my brain can manifest those too. Thanks, Internet.Publish Post
.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Bitter Sweet Treat
His teeth pressed through the firm consistency of the jelly bean as his mouth exploded in saliva. A moment later, as if it almost had been present before his mouth watered, the sweetly sharp tang of fresh peaches bit into his tongue. The taste washed over him as he began to chew it into a gummy pulp. Swallowing, the pulp raced down his throat, chased by a tangy aftertaste. His mouth grew chalky and robbed of moisture as the poison absorbed into his bloodstream.
"Peach, nice touch," croaked Robert as his throat closed up and he slumped over dead.
"Peach, nice touch," croaked Robert as his throat closed up and he slumped over dead.
The Technologist!
"Bang! Bang!", rang Maxwell's Silver Hammer as it came down upon her head, in two swift blows.
The teller dropped to the ground as the bank erupted in a shower of shrieks and moans. As the body fell away a sinister smile spread across Maxwell Edison's lips revealing a row of perfect white teeth.
"Anyone else want to reach for any little hidey buttons, cellphones, beepers, guns, or tazers?" His voice rose in pitch as he spoke, sounding feverishly excited as he hit the crescendo, "JUST TRY IT!"
The bank lobby fell to quiet moans and weeping as a pool of blood spread out from Missy, the late teller's, lifeless heap.
"Now Mr. Borrowitz that is a fine idea, yes," he said wryly as he lilted around on the bank manager that had been slying towards the vault room, "Let's get to that money shall we."
-
"The madman Maxwell Edison has seized control of the Utopolis Central Bank building," creaked the ear buds hanging around Tim's neck as he talked on the desk phone in his cube.
"This install will only take about fifteen minutes Mrs. Shaw, I'd just ask that you avoid using the old software until it completes upgrading."
"12 people are visible inside the..." the ear buds continued.
"Not a problem Tim, thanks for calling me back so quickly on a Friday," Mrs. Shaw oozed into the phone.
Tim reflected how pleasant people were when things were going their way. He knew full well how different they could be when they weren't.
"It's my pleasure, give it about 20 minutes and check for a new icon, if you don't see it, give me a call back."
"Great."
"Have a great weekend Mrs. Shaw."
"You as well!"
This is when the nagging feeling in Tim's mind, present since he had reflected on Mrs. Shaw's reaction, hooked his attention on the ear buds.
"That sounds bad," he mumbled, slipping in the ear buds.
"...presently housing one-hundred million in gold bullion, police expect Maxwell Edison is looking to score big but sources close to the police report they are completely baffled how he plans to escape with it."
"Shit," said Tim, he had started to rise at the name Maxwell.
"...What was that? Oh my god, we just saw two flashes of light from inside the bank. That is normally a sign of Maxwell's Silver Hammer and could mean another hostage was just executed!"
"Jesus," said Tim grabbing his coat and running past Soren's cube.
"Hey Soren, check on that install I just started in a half-hour, for PDF Reader. I gotta grab a coffee!"
"Ya, no problem, what is it life and death coffee?!", yelled Soren down the hall.
"It might be," said Tim to himself as he hit the stairwell running.
The teller dropped to the ground as the bank erupted in a shower of shrieks and moans. As the body fell away a sinister smile spread across Maxwell Edison's lips revealing a row of perfect white teeth.
"Anyone else want to reach for any little hidey buttons, cellphones, beepers, guns, or tazers?" His voice rose in pitch as he spoke, sounding feverishly excited as he hit the crescendo, "JUST TRY IT!"
The bank lobby fell to quiet moans and weeping as a pool of blood spread out from Missy, the late teller's, lifeless heap.
"Now Mr. Borrowitz that is a fine idea, yes," he said wryly as he lilted around on the bank manager that had been slying towards the vault room, "Let's get to that money shall we."
-
"The madman Maxwell Edison has seized control of the Utopolis Central Bank building," creaked the ear buds hanging around Tim's neck as he talked on the desk phone in his cube.
"This install will only take about fifteen minutes Mrs. Shaw, I'd just ask that you avoid using the old software until it completes upgrading."
"12 people are visible inside the..." the ear buds continued.
"Not a problem Tim, thanks for calling me back so quickly on a Friday," Mrs. Shaw oozed into the phone.
Tim reflected how pleasant people were when things were going their way. He knew full well how different they could be when they weren't.
"It's my pleasure, give it about 20 minutes and check for a new icon, if you don't see it, give me a call back."
"Great."
"Have a great weekend Mrs. Shaw."
"You as well!"
This is when the nagging feeling in Tim's mind, present since he had reflected on Mrs. Shaw's reaction, hooked his attention on the ear buds.
"That sounds bad," he mumbled, slipping in the ear buds.
"...presently housing one-hundred million in gold bullion, police expect Maxwell Edison is looking to score big but sources close to the police report they are completely baffled how he plans to escape with it."
"Shit," said Tim, he had started to rise at the name Maxwell.
"...What was that? Oh my god, we just saw two flashes of light from inside the bank. That is normally a sign of Maxwell's Silver Hammer and could mean another hostage was just executed!"
"Jesus," said Tim grabbing his coat and running past Soren's cube.
"Hey Soren, check on that install I just started in a half-hour, for PDF Reader. I gotta grab a coffee!"
"Ya, no problem, what is it life and death coffee?!", yelled Soren down the hall.
"It might be," said Tim to himself as he hit the stairwell running.
Heart Race
The world moved, and his mind was still. He found this therapeutic and looked forward to it more and more these days. Troubles seemed to cloud his thoughts of late and the detachment of his newly favourite past time helped to sort it all out.
Something streaked by on his left and he knew it was time to "thread the needle" as he had heard it called. This part he just liked for the sheer thrill of it.
Quickly he careened to the right a few degrees and counted the heartbeats to the turn.
Eight, nine, now!
He dug his toes in and dragged himself into the turn with his front limbs, only to immediately twist to the left and kick his back half around into a 90° turn.
Oh yeah! Now to give it some speed!
Windmilling like an Olympic rowing team his sleek body quickly regained his speed just in time for the second dogleg, but not before he buzzed by Tim's seat in a blur.
"For Pete's sake Smokie, lay off! It's late!" Tim cried out in surprise, clutching the arm of his big comfortable computer chair.
"Sorry guys, my cat is being a nutbar again," Tim said into his headset, resuming his game.
But Smokie didn't hear, or wasn't listening, as he deftly completed the second bend.
Left, Right, 6 more heartbeats...
Something streaked by on his left and he knew it was time to "thread the needle" as he had heard it called. This part he just liked for the sheer thrill of it.
Quickly he careened to the right a few degrees and counted the heartbeats to the turn.
Eight, nine, now!
He dug his toes in and dragged himself into the turn with his front limbs, only to immediately twist to the left and kick his back half around into a 90° turn.
Oh yeah! Now to give it some speed!
Windmilling like an Olympic rowing team his sleek body quickly regained his speed just in time for the second dogleg, but not before he buzzed by Tim's seat in a blur.
"For Pete's sake Smokie, lay off! It's late!" Tim cried out in surprise, clutching the arm of his big comfortable computer chair.
"Sorry guys, my cat is being a nutbar again," Tim said into his headset, resuming his game.
But Smokie didn't hear, or wasn't listening, as he deftly completed the second bend.
Left, Right, 6 more heartbeats...
Sally and Me
The littlest tree in the forest belonged to me. I called her Sally and years later I would name my own dear daughter after her. She was poking up through the grass at the base of an old Oak Grandfather when I found her as I was exploring the hills and woods near our home. I was 12 years and 42 days old; I know exactly because I had been determined to count each day to my next birthday for I was convinced that would be the year I finally got a pony.
Finding Sally was so accidental I nearly crushed her in doing so. I had been climbing absently up the gnarled trunk of the Oak with my eyes more on a delightfully fuzzy caterpita' (as I called them for far too long) than on the tree, and I slipped, sliding all the way to the bottom and onto my side. Before I could consider hurting or crying, I spotted the little branches sticking magically up through the shady grass in front of me.
Oh and what magic! Before my eyes was a wonderous world in which I was the size of the sun itself and a lone tree spread its lopsided roof of leaves out over the overgrown hillside. The old oak's leaves rustled as a breeze whiffed by and a sliver of sun crossed my cheek and bathed my little kingdom in gold.
"Why hello," I said in a voice just as golden, "I think we are to be wonderful friends."
Finding Sally was so accidental I nearly crushed her in doing so. I had been climbing absently up the gnarled trunk of the Oak with my eyes more on a delightfully fuzzy caterpita' (as I called them for far too long) than on the tree, and I slipped, sliding all the way to the bottom and onto my side. Before I could consider hurting or crying, I spotted the little branches sticking magically up through the shady grass in front of me.
Oh and what magic! Before my eyes was a wonderous world in which I was the size of the sun itself and a lone tree spread its lopsided roof of leaves out over the overgrown hillside. The old oak's leaves rustled as a breeze whiffed by and a sliver of sun crossed my cheek and bathed my little kingdom in gold.
"Why hello," I said in a voice just as golden, "I think we are to be wonderful friends."
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