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About this title: Version: In issue No. 2, for December 2018: Part 1 of the sci-fi novella Non-Retrieval. The main feature is followed by five recently written short stories, in a range of genres, with three directly inspired by notes from the Story Starters archive. Articles include the revealing How I Became My Female Characters, and for the upcoming holiday, Have A Merry, Pagan Christmas! Rating: HIGH controversy.
 
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They say that a good opening sentence has to grip the reader into reading more of the story. Here are the opening sentences from each of the stories in the magazine. Tell me, do they provoke you to want to read on?
 
Like a plague they descended, dropping into the midst of the unprepared and frightened soldiers as dozens of bouncing, pummeling cannonballs. - Roaches
 
Once I’d rotated the co-pilot’s chair by one hundred and eighty degrees, I scanned across the innards of the Unilink Space Transport, designated number One-Twenty-Six. - Non-Retrieval
 
“Unit XY, Series three dash three four three, you are ready for guest services.” - Unit Four-Three
 
Transformation must begin somewhere, that’s what I say. - Changeling
 
Once upon a time down at Old Miriam’s Well... - The Old Hag’s Tales 7
 
You ever seen a goddamned butterfly weaving its way through a flower garden? - Pickle For Hire
 
“Once, I saw a shaman suck a man’s soul out of his body, just by waving a piece of licorice in front of his face.” - Gordon’s Soul Takes A Trip
 
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A short excerpt from the leading story Non-Retrieval:
 
Once I’d rotated the co-pilot’s chair by one hundred and eighty degrees, I scanned across the innards of the Unilink Space Transport, designated number One-Twenty-Six. The Space Marines were filing in through the small vessel’s hatch, some impatient, others somber, all rarely speaking. In their usual, professional manner they filled in the seats starting from the furthest back and moving forward. The seating consisted of two short, gray metal benches running along either side of the transport, with heavy-duty black nylon seat straps for each occupant, and an overhead spot for them to snap their weapons into.

Dutifully, each of the hard-nosed soldiers secured the weapons into their spots, in this case the newer Spitfire v7 plasma rifles, before removing their helmets and laying them on their laps. They reached to their sides, bringing up the adjustable ends of their security belts. With a loud snap, they clicked their belts locked.

Space Infantry, Space Marines, their cammies and weapons I’d seen many times before, perhaps too many times already, during the ongoing campaign against the nefarious Roaches. On this particular mission, however, it was the bizarre coloration of their uniforms that held my attention. The squad of twelve, plus their fearsome and well-known commanding officer, were all wearing standard issue, camouflage pattern fatigues. In contrast to the tan or green shades I was used to seeing, however, the articles of clothing before me had been dyed in an uncommon combination of gray and black.

The outside of our vessel had undergone a similar metamorphosis, with the addition of an even more bizarre color, dark purple. The lower parts of the ship were painted in an irregular black pattern to represent grass, the middle and top half in various shades of the same gray and black as the soldier’s cammies, and the very top had purple streaks on the roof and upper edges to mimic hanging leaves. Even with the quick-dry techniques the Space Corps contractors had used, we’d still been waiting a few hours for the paint to dry.

Upon viewing the odd hues for the first time, the ship’s Senior Spaceman, Royce Tennard, immediately and affectionately nicknamed the vessel the ‘Purple Haze.’ He said he’d named it after some obscure twentieth century rock music, but I’d never heard of the song personally. Who the hell was Jimmy Hendricks, anyway?

With both the Marines and the Unilink Transport so curiously disguised, I thought that the landscape of our target planet, Lesenia, must be a very strange one indeed.

“I hope we run into some o’ them black devils.” One young ebony soldier beamed. I immediately thought of the term B.A.M., or Broad Ass Marine, that I’d heard somewhere or other. The woman aimed an invisible weapon across the transport and slowly squeezed its trigger. “Boo-yeah!”

On the opposite bench, a freckled blond man pretended he’d been shot. He grabbed at his heart, closed his eyes and lolled his head to one side. As a final gesture of his fatality, he stuck his tongue out. This man’s name was Finn, I would come to find out very shortly.

“I hear that.” The heavy shouldered Marine sitting next to the black woman nodded. “Some filthy Roaches are about to get themselves served!”

“Are you finished sightseeing, Douglas?” An impatient voice grated at my ears. I swiveled my seat around to face the front of the ship. I turned my head toward the Senior Spaceman’s chair, where the pudgy pilot was seated and giving me an irritated look.

Tennard leaned in close, since the cockpit was of open design and sound carried well against the mainly metal interior of the transport. He was near enough for me to get a good look at his balding brown hair, thick brown mustache and fleshy jowls. “Just listen to those turkeys. They actually think we’re going to see some action on this trip. So Lesenia hasn’t communicated with CP-1 (Command Post One) in thirty-six Earth hours, big fucking deal. Things like that happen all the time at these new outposts.

“CP-1 panics every time and they send in the cavalry, and all for what? We go halfway across the universe to an outpost in butt-fuck Egypt, only to find that some relay burned out or that they need to realign their satellites one more time. Then we get to stand by and watch as the outpost reboots its computer system and voila! The problem is solved. Try explaining that scenario to Renquist’s lynch mob. You’d think they all jerk off to their rifles, except for that dark-skinned woman. I bet she uses her rifle as a dildo.”

As if on cue, the stern voice of Staff Sergeant James Renquist cracked through the vessel’s bowels like a hard whip. “Davis, Knotts, secure your traps.”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant.” The two Marines complied. “Oorah!”

The grim-looking man slammed the transport’s hatch shut, hard enough that I winced even though I saw it coming. Next, he pressed the small control pad that would secure the hatch and give it an airtight seal.

(Continued from previous post.)

Space Colony Notes
 
Dunbar’s Number - This estimates the approximate number of people one individual needs around them to maintain healthy social and romantic relationships.

About 5 - very close friends
15 - 20 - good friends
35 - 50 - acquaintances
150 - 160 - total members in a tribe
Over 160 - additional recognizable people

A colony of 10,000 people is calculated to double every 25 years. It would take approx. 500 years for the initial colony to reach Earth’s present population.
 
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Dead Aliens
 
Wrap your head around this, which I tried to simplify a bit. If, in the last 10 billion years, 10% of stars spawned an intelligent civilization, and if each civilization is visible for an average of 10,000 years, then every 1 million stars would have 1 currently visible civilization. This area would be a circle of 400 light years in radius. That means that theoretically we would have at least one other intelligent, interstellar species, besides us, somewhere around us right now. In a sci-fi scenario, that would translate to one space-capable species every 400 light years.

Two good candidate solar systems for possible extinct alien species are 82 G Eridan and Delta Pavonis. Both stars are about 20 light years away from Earth, and are estimated to be at least 6 billion years old. The species on any life-supporting planets would have gone extinct hundred of thousands or millions of years ago. There would be nothing left of their society except rubble, and no ruins or buried technology as seen in pop movies. A destroyed or collapsed atmosphere might cause some artifacts to erode slower. Artifacts might last longer on moons, unless meteor impacts have demolished them.

Arriving colonists would not be colonizing planets right away, as they would have mastered space habitats and interstellar, long duration travel by then. They won’t jump off their ship immediately. A colonizing ship might first spot alien technology on a moon, and send probes in for a closer look. A manned exploration vessel would go in next. If any habitats, doors or walls are found, explorers will not try to enter them. They will use drills to make holes, keeping internal pressures intact, and send in devices with cameras attached to them.

Explorers might take the door apart for study on how it was constructed. They will not try to pressurize any structures so they can walk around without space suits, because this will cause oxygen to be present that would erode any sensitive artifacts. If the aliens from the moon base watched their home planet get destroyed due to war or disaster, they may have left a record of their culture behind, including mummified bodies and a collection of their accomplishments and knowledge. The last survivors might even leave a trail of clues to the bottom of a shaded crater, where colder temperatures can preserve bodies or other artifacts for a longer time than on the surface. It is even possible that DNA or other genetic material might be hidden there that would allow these people or their clones to be replicated.

Not every single living creature on an extinct planet might have perished. Life might still be found in the bottom of the oceans, or in deep cave systems.

As a general rule of thumb, the more advanced a civilization is, the faster its tech will degrade and vanish. Think about that! We’re more likely to find cave paintings on an extinct alien planet than computer chips!
 
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Improbability Issues
 
This topic strays away from the main purpose of the article. I thought it worthwhile to include it, as I will certainly delve into quantum jumping and multi-verse subplots in my fiction project.
Mechanistic Universe - Everything in the universe runs strictly on mathematical principles. There is no random chance or novelty, as the future is predetermined and can be predicted by math. (Westworld, Season 3 delves into this concept.)

Copenhagen Interpretation - There is only one reality, and everything within the universe is in a constant state of flux. The future is random or novel until an observer witnesses it. The fluctuation is going on at the atomic level. (See the example of Shrodinger’s Cat.)

Many Worlds Theory - In this theory, everything that can possibly happen does happen on an infinite number of worlds. (See the Butterfly Effect in Time Travel paradox speculation. Basically, this is where something minor you do today can affect people greatly in the far future.)

Pilot Wave Theory - This wasn’t mentioned in the video I watched, but I thought it worthy of inclusion. In this theory, a ball is dropped into viscous liquid that has no friction, bounces an infinite number of times and creates new ripples with every bounce. These ripples intersect each other as seen in the Double Slit Experiment. They represent space-time and can be measured as a range or pattern. The uniqueness of Pilot Wave Theory, from my metaphysical perspective, is who initially drops the ball? Just like you need an observer to create the Double Slit Experiment by shooting photons through apertures, in Pilot Wave you need an initiator to start the process. None of the other theories proposed by scientists really addresses the idea of Intelligent Design.

Moving on; if you become Dr. Who and transport yourself to a location on another world, is the person who arrives at the destination truly you, or is it a collection of your possibly false memories? If a super 3D printer maps you down to the atomic level and reproduces you, is that really you? Can there be two of you at once, and is the You on a different planet the same as the You on Earth? Isaac Arthur put together a very good and though-provoking analysis, which I will jot down below.
 
Dyson Dilemma Conditions

1. It is actually possible to build a Dyson Sphere, and doing so makes sense.

2. It is possible to engage in interstellar colonization.

3. No method of power generation exists which is vastly superior to stars, nor can matter and
energy simply be summoned from nowhere for free.

4. Faster Than Light Travel, or to travel to other realities or dimensions, is either not possible or not incredibly easy.

5. Civilizations do not inevitably wipe themselves out.

6. Most civilizations will expand their population, territory and resources if they can comfortably do so.
 
Following these conditions, a civilization doesn’t need to expand and colonize into space. Potentially, it can travel to other realities or dimensions, find a suitable new planet there with the right living conditions or resources, and simply take what it needs. If that’s the case, we might be competing with other Earths that develop the same inter-dimensional travel methods for the best new planets out there.

Again, if you travel to another universe, is it your data or your mass? If your data is duplicated from empty space-matter, i.e. reassembly of atoms, that’s not you. If it is your actual mass that travels from Point A to Point B, then you’ve just added mass and energy to another dimension, therefore increasing the size of the new universe and decreasing it from the one you’ve left behind. In Many Worlds Theory, your jumping from one place to the next could theoretically happen trillions of times, with only a small variance between your selves.

(See the story of John Titor, Time Traveler, for a Many Worlds Theory where similar worlds have variances between 3 and 5 percent. That also ties in with Quantum / Mandela Effect where some people, like myself, are noticing how the universe is constantly changing around them in all aspects.)

Isaac Arthur doesn’t like Many Worlds Theory. I heard one physicist stating that nature would conserve its energy with temporary time-line splits, or short tributaries in a river of time, that would later join back up with the main body. That makes more sense to me, based on what I can see in Earth nature and biological or weather cycles. Nature does not simply waste its energy. From a metaphysical point of view, it also makes sense, as some people have very strange experiences that defy what is known in physics, events that cannot be replicated and are usually dismissed by academia, but which are very real for the person who went through them. Reality refuses to be categorized and defined by Science. In a Hologram Universe, Many Worlds and time-line splits are as possible as a person playing a video game, having their character die, and then resuming the game with a revived character. (If your video game character dies and is revived, is it really the same character, or a different one? Do you see what I’m saying now, about transporting yourself to another planet / dimension and you still being you?)
 
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Sources
 
Dead Aliens by Isaac Arthur (Youtube)
Infinite Improbability Issues by Isaac Arthur (Youtube)
Interstellar Colonization by Isaac Arthur (Youtube)
Interstellar Highways by Isaac Arthur (Youtube)
Megastructures 04 - Rotating Habitats by Isaac Arthur (Youtube)
Moon Base Concepts by Isaac Arthur (Youtube)
O’Neill Cylinder, article on Wikipedia
Space Habitats, article on Wikipedia
Stanford Torus, article on Wikipedia

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About this title: In issue No. 1, for November 2018: Three short stories from the recently released science fiction collection Variant Worlds 2, and an excerpt of over 30 pages from upcoming release Rothschild Apocalypse. Articles include the candid How I Became My Male Characters, and Space-Based Starships And Colonies to give budding writers a good grounding on the basics. Rating: EXTREME controversy.
 
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They say that a good opening sentence has to grip the reader into reading more of the story. Here are the opening sentences from each of the stories in the magazine. Tell me, do they provoke you to want to read on?
 
There are places that not even god can reach. - Asteroid QQ37, Part 1
 
Harry Paxton had tits. - The Anomaly Of Object AA
 
Things were going well in Hydroponics Division, Lender thought. - Asteroid QQ37, Part 2
 
Every story has a beginning. - Rothschild Apocalypse
 
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A short excerpt from the leading story Asteroid QQ37, Part 1:
 
There are places that not even god can reach.

Asteroid QQ37 was one of those places. Men with severe prison sentences were taken there to mine, because capital punishment had long since been abolished on the civilized worlds. That’s what they said, anyway, but everyone knew it wasn’t true. The elites that ran the Federation Of Planets used every excuse they could think of to murder their constituents. The elites killed the masses through the food they consumed, the water they drank and with the radiation they sprayed into the skies. Autism, cancer and other induced maladies were running rampant all over the colonized worlds. The masses were too stupid, as always, to comprehend how they were being systematically weakened.

Lender wasn’t among the stupid ones. Lender figured things out and he was vocal about it. That’s how he got his prison sentence. After appearing in one too many protests and posting one too many links to real evidence online, the elite cleansing program targeted him. A hit squad broke into his home to murder his wife and two children, and to plant incriminating files onto his computer. The operatives branded him a murderer and a conspirator. They made up their ‘official story’ that he was trying to overthrow the government. They invented that he was part of a plot to assassinate the president, who was on her third clone by then after previous successful attempts on her life. Nobody knew that, by the way, except for those like Lender that used advanced facial recognition programs to study down to the pores of the president’s face. That bitch had been killed twice and reproduced by the elites, while the public couldn’t be bothered to see that her irises had a synthetic pattern in them. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look.

Len hated religion, as he knew how religious leaders manipulated belief and faith to control the masses. If someone had told him a few years ago that he would one day turn into a religious man, Len would have laughed in their faces. He’d been indoctrinated into Chrislam, of course, like so many others before him, and been taught to bow toward the rising sun of the east every morning. That had only lasted as far as Len’s teenage years, until he discovered that the leaders of the colonized worlds had years before conspired to merge the great religions into one, and that many other diverse religions had existed before the advent of Chrislam.

A new religion, a secret religion, was spreading among the many miners like him whom had lost their hope. Their new god had a name, but the deity’s worshippers kept that name out of their minds as much as they could. The new god had horns and carried a flaming sword in one hand and a book of law in the other. This was a god of vengeance first, of strict holy cleansing and the wiping out of corruption. He would become a god of purity and light only after the cancer of the galactic elite was excised and burned away. In the interim, the god’s flaming sword would swing with fury. The reason Len and others who followed this deity kept their religion out of their brains was because the wardens continually ran mind scans on their prisoners. Too many restricted thoughts would get a miner taken to Interrogation, and that was not a good place for any man to end up. Many times, those men would not come back.

Before the mining sentence, Len had not been a religious man. He hadn’t been a homosexual man either. After getting raped in dark places one time too many by roving bands of desperate men, he had no choice but to adapt to his new circumstances. Len searched out who the political dissidents in the mining colony were, the Truthers like him. He found an Asian man who was nearly as tall as he was, another loner being abused in the same way, and just as strong. He beat that man and raped him, and he made the man watch over Len’s cot as he slept, and to follow him around when he had to go into dark places.

The man’s name was Kyu. He was from New Korea, some new country that was established on one of Saturn’s moons, but Len always forgot which moon. After having enough of being raped, Kyu waited until Len was fast asleep. He beat Len senseless with his shoe and returned the favor. When Kyu was done, he demanded to be treated like a man and not like a slave. By then, both men had gotten accustomed to being near one another. Neither wanted to walk dark corridors alone where bands of men might find them. They become lovers. Kyu no longer sat on the floor while Len slept; now they slept on the same cot. If violence came their way, they stood by each other’s side and faced it together.