Notes From the Mad Quill

A note concerning tangents (redux) V

2011-07-11T03:50:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Manique, Portuagal (Census Data unavailable)

(Cooridinates, unavailable)

Days 5&6

Expedition Outlook: Girded

Number of People Who Have Tried to Sell Me Drugs in Lisbon: 7

Where am I? Hard to tell sometimes.

Well, dearest readers, I’m going to be frank with you: In case you haven’t figured it out by the entry head, I’m going to cheat. It probably won’t be the last time, either. Day 5 was a bit of a lazy transit day so I’m going to bundle it up with Day 6. The hope, of course, is that I might actually (ha ha) catch up to the present day. You know, it’s strange. The last expedition was entirely helter skelter, flying by the seat of one’s pants antics. We had no plan, no agenda, we didn’t even know where we were sleeping until a few hours before we got there. And yet we had a routine. I think saying ‘routine’ makes it seems more organized than it actually was, but you get the point. Or you will, which is this: barring connectivity issues (either with the internet or with my brain) I was able to rip off a post most nights. Here, I’ve got a base of operations, the ability to settle yet, and a much more structured itinerary and yet by ability to observe any sort of routine or discipline is totally shot. Perhaps because I’m not the Expedition Leader on this one, or maybe the existence of external order lessens my need to create internal order. Or maybe both. Or maybe it’s Martians. Anyway, it’s weird, and I apologize to you for my utter slackitude.

Loverly, ain't it?

On to meat! Day 5 started in Lagos and ended in Manique. In between we visited Vila Nova de Milfontes and Casicais. The trip north was smooth. Although the feel of the place is still very southern California (and in the more modernized areas, the two places could be interchangeable save for the language difference and the use of the metric system) things are getting greener as we travel northward. Less scrubland more… not scrubland. Lushland? Sure, we’ll go with that. VNdM was a cute riverside town where we stopped to pick up lunch and enjoy the fantastic view from the bridge crossing the river valley. Caiscais is a beach town where the larger portion of my cousins live and also where Pops, Lady, and Justinian are staying (as opposed to in Manique, the next town over, where Brother Dear and myself are crashing). So after getting settled and unpacked in Manique, we went to the home of the Matriarch in Casicais and did a big family dinner. It was fantastic. Families are wonderful things to have. And when the bulk of them live in a foreign place, it’s a delight and refreshment to observe the dynamic from a place of comfort and affection. As opposed to a place of anxiety and confusion because you don’t speak the language and can’t possibly be sure that you didn’t just egregiously offend someone.

After dinner we wrapped things up, returned to our crash spaces, and prepared for our first big excursion into a major metropolitan area: Lisbon.

And now day 6! It’s been sometime, I know, I hope you didn’t wear out the seats of your pants or the edges of your seats, dear readers. So, I know many of you have been outside the country before, so bear with my here. Lisbon is the first major urban area I’ve visited outside of the States. OK, so I’ve been to a few places in Canada, but as another relatively new colonial country, it shares a lot of qualities with the US so it doesn’t really count. Here’s the thing with Lisbon: It’s different. Big surprise yeah? Succinct and easy see you tomorrow! Seriously though, nowhere else that I’ve been provides an adequate sense of context within which I can generate a comparison. And it’s not just the language and the metric system that throws me. Lisbon has been around since before Europe even started to colonize the Americas, never mind since our country was founded. It’s an old city. They routinely dig up crap that the Romans built when they lived there. Shoot, the city has been around since before Rome. I can’t even begin to understand the billions of forces that acted upon Lisbon and shaped it into what it is today. It’s nothing like any American city I’ve been in.

Ok, time to contradict myself. It’s Urban. It’s metropolitan. In that sense, it’s like cities everywhere. Or at least everywhere I’ve been. Shoot, I’m of very mixed mind here and it’s hard to articulate. Lisbon was both extremely impressive and nothing at all special. This is a dichotomy I’m having some trouble dealing with, still, so I’m going to move on to the details of the day.

Our plan consisted of taking a walking tour and seeing some sights. This involved a lot of tricky navigation up hills and through tiny streets, but it was totally worth it. First major stop was the Castle of São Jorge. Big honkin castle in the middle of the city. Between earthquakes and neglect the location might not be as splendidly preserved as some other historical sites out there, but seeing as it is a castle, after all, it has weathered the centuries pretty damn well. Well, at least the bits meant for war have. If you like old ruins and the like, the place is a treat. It’s is also absolutely filled with semi-feral animals of all stripes and configurations, the most conspicuous of which are the peacocks. And friends, let me tell you, nothing says “circle of life” quite like a peacock and a cat fighting over the leftovers of someone’s sandwich while tourists from 16 different nations try and take photographs and yell out encouraging advice.

Post castle we transitioned through some minor locales and ended up visiting the Patriarch Cathedral of St. Mary Major. It’s a fully functional Roman Catholic cathedral and is the see of the Archdioceses of Lisbon. It looks a bit run down on the outside, but is absolutely gorgeous on the inside. Say whatever else you’d like about the Catholics, but they make darn pretty places of worship.

We rounded our trip with a stroll through some slightly more ‘modern’ areas of the city. That means areas that were built after the big quake in 1755, so when I say modern I mean “still older than America.” The most impressive of these modern areas are the Rua Augusta Arch and the connected Praça do Comércio. They’re the kind of places that don’t really feature attractions or activities per se but are just nice to hang about and soak up the atmosphere. I took advantage of the wide open spaces of the Praça to waltz with my mother. It was very nice.

After that we took a nice long walk along the waterfront, got some dinner in one of the pier sections and called it a day. It was a good day and did a lot to embolden the Expedition members. It was also the first occasion I’ve been able to spend time with my young cousins Tiago, Hugo, Barbara and Vasco. Absolute gems, and if they’re at all indicative of how the Portuguese handle child rearing, then we are way far behind over in the states.

I’ve little else to report in the way of expedition news. Still no hot female truckers, but no surprise there. No one has yet to claim the $10 bounty for punching a pigeon mid-flight. Big people sightings are extremely sporadic. This leads me to believe that it might be a problem indigenous to the Americas. I did run into Alabaster, King of Pigeons in all of his majestic and blinding white majesty. Don’t know what business he was conducting down on the Lisbon waterfront, but his royal retinue was quite a sight to behold. Alabaster, if you are reading this, then thank you again for gracing me with your royal presence. And you, delightful and cherished readers, are ever a pleasure as well. Time for me to go, thank you, and good night, this is the Nickness, signing off.

"When there's a bustle in your hedgerow..."

A note concerning tangents (redux) IV

2011-07-07T20:08:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Lagos, Portugal (~pop. 19,000)

(37°06′N 8°40′W)

Day 4

Expedition Outlook: Multiplicative

Number of feral cats living at our hotel: ~6

*Bonus Data* Feral dogs and cats living together: Mass Hysteria!

Hello again from Lagos, faithful readers. Today is the start of our two day transition period from the Algarve back north to Lisbon and its surrounding environs. My brother will be officially joining us from the states and we’ll also see the addition of the first of many recurring characters: my cousin Pedro and his lovely wife Anna.

I discovered the existence of probably three more cats. Another female calico (I don’t think it’s one of the Fates, but a new player), a male tabby and their adorable kitten. I have named them Zeus, Hera, and Hermes. The only thing I saw Zeus and Hera do was fight over a piece of ham and occasionally stealth abduct food from abandoned place settings. Hermes adorable chased his own tail, lost a fight with a bamboo leaf, and is apparently capable of short distance teleportation, because I have no idea how he got on top of that table, but it was extremely adorable when he fell asleep in the sun and rolled the edge. No worries, readers, he is a real cat, unlike some others we might know and landed safely on his feet.

Pre arrival of the family it was a lazy day. The Expedition split into separate excursions. Pop and Lady navigating the old town districts while your darling navigator returned to the cliffs to commune with the gods of land and sea. Definitely one of the advantages to operating out of a single base for a few days as opposed to finding somewhere new to sleep every night. It was actually quite nice to have zero timetable pressure; to be able to head out and switch off for a few hours, which isn’t something I was ever really able to do on the last Expedition. Well, except for in Moab , but as you may or may not recall, that was the only time we stayed in the same place for two nights in a row.

My cousins and brother arrived without ceremony. It’s strange really, not having to battle the wrath of angry gods or hostile Batlabians. It’s quiet in that too quiet kind of way. It makes me wonder what is awaiting us up north.

The rest of the day was spent idly socializing and finished with a magnificent dinner. I’m going to point out that the daily routines here favor late lunches and late dinners, typically around 8:30 or 9:00. I really love it because that’s the schedule I tend to keep anyway. Of note for the dinner, beyond the quality of the food, was the quality of the service. We were in what would easily be considered an upscale restaurant state side. What was amazing was that we got the kind of service you would expect from such a restaurant but never actually see. Small courtesies, little touches and nuances in the way the staff conducted themselves and went about the process of serving dinner. Everything from the way a plate was cleared to the way wine was poured to the class of the uniforms. Tiny gratuities that were significant not in their value but in their presence. My brother ordered a four course tasting menu. The first course of which was a tiny cup of soup. Instead of serving just him and letting the rest of us watch him eat, the restaurant served us all the soup course free of charge. It was a tiny espresso cup full of soup and a piece of salmon maybe the size of the first knuckle on your thumb, nothing of great substance, but the thoughtfulness was noted and made a huge difference. The meal was full of those little touches. I was very impressed. And this, also, in a culture where servers are paid a decent wage and tips are neither required nor counted upon. These people weren’t fishing for a big tip, they were conducting themselves professionally. It was a nice change of pace.

Upon the conclusion of dinner we had a pleasant walk back to our lodging whereupon we began preparation for our departure the next day. A low key day, but very pleasant for its lack of activity. I hope the opportunity for such a day presents itself again in the future.

In member news, Pops is clearing up nicely, but he appears to have passed along his malady to the Lady. Ever forward into the swirling maelstrom of chaos and catastrophe we travel, bastions against the malefic forces of the cosmos. Lisbon, you are in our sights. I hope your loins are girded, because we are coming for you. Thank you, and farewell, this is the Nickness signing off.

"Let me see what Spring is like on Jupiter and Mars..."

A note concerning tangents (redux) III

2011-07-07T03:38:00.001+01:00

Current Location: Lagos, Portugal (~pop. 19,000)

(37°06′N 8°40′W)

Day 3

Expedition Outlook: Wanderlusty

A view you could used to, yeah?

Greetings again from the past of the future! On day 3 Pops found his man pants and decided to resume his duties as Expedition Leader. On the day’s roster: a road trip to parts unknown, but soon to be made known, or at least passing familiar.

We headed west onboard Justinian (as I have discovered our steed is called). Our first stop, the village of Luz. But I get ahead of myself. This story truly starts the night previous, when Pops and Lady, drunk on power from their spec ops success against the prostitutes, decided to undertake an info gathering session at the hotel reception desk. I was not privy to the goings on of this summit. They returned to the room with a marked map and talk of a ‘route’ that we would ‘sight see,’ and that was pretty much all we had in the morning. Whatever details the receptionist had told them previously had been polymorphed by advancing age and dreamland into: “Well, we’ll go to this place and drink some coffee in a café. Then we’ll go to this place and….I don’t know maybe that was the one with the coffee? I think we’re supposed to be stop at a café everywhere. Also there is a beach with dark sands. And I think maybe we go to this one for fish? And this one over here has meat. I think there may have been more, but nothing else is circled on the map.”

So as I describe each location, I would like you to imagine a scene wherein before each disembarkation there is a brief discussion about cafes, a seeking of confirmation to the presence of fish and/or meat, as well as an exchange along the lines of :

“Did they tell us to stop here?”

“Well it’s circled on the map.”

“What were we supposed to see?”

“Well I don’t know, weren’t you paying attention?”

“No, it’s your job to pay attention. I think we’re supposed to get a coffee.”

Progress defined: Roman baths and satellite television.

At any rate, our first stop was Luz, a pleasant little seaside village. There were some ruins of an ancient roman bath. (Keyword there being ‘ruins.” There were not majestic remnants of history, there were some holes in the ground). There was also a church that had been rebuilt many times on account of it being destroyed by an earthquake, fire (twice) and a cyclone. One would think that the residents might have interpreted this as a sign from God saying he wanted that church elsewhere, but we Portuguese are a stubborn lot. I would expect some locusts or maybe a tidal wave in the next 10 or so years.

Pew pew!

After Luz was Sagres. The Expedition indulged your fine narrator and set its sights on an old fort and navigation school associated with Henry the Navigator. As near as we were able to tell the place is called Sagres Point and it is a pretty large defensive fortification built on a narrow strip of cliff overlooking two bays, picked, presumably, for the convenience of being able to aim cannons at both bays so they could shoot the crap out of the Moors or the Spaniards or whomever was trying to invade Portugal at the time. I found it to be quite enjoyable.

A very quaint deathtrap.

After Sagres was Aljezur. Which, we discovered once arriving there, was not actually the place we were supposed to go, but rather a landmark to get us to where we needed to be. Kat took advantage of the opportunity to try and kill us first by maneuvering us into narrow, difficult to navigate streets and when that failed by trying to get us to drive on an “unpaved road” which is gps talk for “not a road at all, have fun driving your vehicle through some small trees.” Pop's skills and Justinian’s agility foiled Kat’s plans and got us safely to Monte Clérigo, a tiny village where we had a phenomenal lunch of locally caught fish. This satisfied the fish requirement and afterwards we headed into the only mountainous region of the Algarve to satisfy our meat requirement.

When I say freshly caught fish I mean it.

This exists on roughly five terraced levels.

Our destination was the village of Monchique. As far as I could observe, all of the villages in this region were about the same size as the ones on flatter terrain, they just happened to occupy that space on the vertical plane as opposed to the horizontal. A lot of terraces and switchbacks and tiny roads with no guard rails and perilous drops. If this doesn’t sound hazardous enough, I’d like to mention that your average Portuguese driver seems to enjoy going at least 30% faster than the posted speed limit and is not familiar with concepts like “deceleration” or “yield.” Monchique was pretty, though, and the meat quite tasty. They had a lot of sculptures of young ladies with their blouses open reading books, playing tag, and for some reason, performing carpentry.

Crass commercialism tends to be very photogenic.

Our final destination was Vilamoura, which frankly was not super impressive. It is everything you’d expect from a purpose built tourist resort town. The only culture there was commercialism and we’ve got plenty of that in the States. It was well executed and pleasant enough in its own right, but it won’t be making any highlight reels.

Moving on to the social commentary portion of our broadcast, I’d like to mention that it is incredibly disheartening to see so many pretty girls smoking, a habit I find to be absolutely repulsive. In a somewhat related vein, (the vein being “Hey she’s cute. Ah man, she smokes. Gross”) I’d also like to share with you something I’ve observed about ladies from the UK. First off, they apparently always travel in packs. I’ve yet to find one operating solo or only in the company of men. That’s not the point though. The point is this: You’re walking down the street. You see a lovely girl. And then she opens her mouth and out comes a trashy British accent so thick you can actually see it emanating from her mouth like a speech bubble. I’m talking Eliza Doolittle (Pre Higgins polish of course) after getting hit in the mouth with a sock full of rocks. It’s so shockingly disappointing. And I associate with people from Boston, Long Island, North Jersey, and NYC, which covers just about all of the low points in American dialect save for some of the gems you’ll find in the deep south. All of them inevitably are smokers too. So sad!

I’m beginning to lose sight of the relevance of anything I want to comment on, so I’m gonna call this one a wrap. Remember, kids, progress is the hallmark of civilization, and progress takes time! So think of my delay in updates as an investment in the future of modernity and advancement. Thank you and good night, this is the Nickness, signing off.

Boa Noite!

A note concerning tangents (redux) II

2011-07-05T01:59:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Lagos, Portugal (~pop. 19,000)

(37°06′N 8°40′W)

Day 2

Expedition Outlook: 66%

The main promenade in Lagos.

Bom Dia, as they say in the local parlance. It’s taken some doing, but here is our broadcast for Day 2! (I know, I know, it’s actually Day 4 now, but managing one’s time in the future is proving to be quite the chore.) The concept of remaining in one place for more than two days is utterly confusing to veteran Expedition members. Judgment of this situation is being reserved until more data can be collected.

There are three feral, calico cats that apparently reside at the hotel where we are staying. I have decided that they are sisters and have named them Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. They have not, at least within my sight, done anything more significant than hunt for scraps from patrons, but it would not surprise me in the least to know that they held the fates of everyone within the town within their tiny, crazy paws.

Pops was laid low by stowaway domestic bacteria and elected to lay low for the day. Having some experience leaving weaker expedition members behind in the lodging and continuing to adventure without them, I didn’t even need to think twice about leaving him behind. I’m beginning to think that all successful expeditions bring along one member to serve as a deific lightning rod. We’ll see if Pops can fill the role as adeptly as Edison. I am doubtful of this, but with the addition of Brother Dearest I think they’ll be able to come close to matching his effectiveness. You know, if there is ever a need to quantify god aggro into measurable unites, I propose we name them Edisons.

One of the many gorgeous cliffside views

At any rate, the Lady and I elected to assay the cliffs of the coast and burn off some of the egregious calories we had been accruing. The hiking was only mildly difficult, I only had to climb once or twice. The scenery was beautiful, and unlike some other hostile rocky hikes I’ve been on, the proximity to the ocean provided a wonderful breeze. Also, civilization and re-supply was never more than ten minutes away.

Ladies, you can feel free to roll your eyes right out of your head at this point, because I am honor bound by a legacy of Y chromosomes to mention all of the delightful, topless ladies located on the local beaches. Gentleman of the audience, it is a wonderful thing. I know there are a few such beaches in the states, but these (the Portuguese ones) are a long cry from those terrifying chthonic shores. I have yet to see a pale, shambling, pelagic beast beached and languishing on the shore. It’s as if there is a monitoring commission revoking topless privileges from those whose countenance would frighten children and pets.

Speaking of pets, (Oh, and gentlemen, you can collect your ladies’ eyes from the floor at this point and pop them back in so they can get back to reading) there are well behaved dogs everywhere. Hanging out in cafes, making friends on the streets, sleeping on their backs and twitching their paws adorably, voting on municipal policy, and owning property. As you can see they’re actually much better than the hippies and hobos we have rolling around back in MA. Cleaner too.

Cliffs and caves everywhere! Good for bats, I guess.

Didn’t see very many canines on the cliff trails, which, as mentioned previously, were absolutely a treat. The most peculiar event was my discovery of a secret beach full of naked people. That was totally a secret achievement, by the way. I was pretty high up, so I can’t really speak one way or another as to their, ah, suitability for nudity. I also have no idea how they got there, because as near as I could tell the beach was surrounded on three sides by sheer cliff face and on the fourth by the sea. Swimming occurred to me, but they had umbrellas and chairs and a barbecue, so that seemed a bit unlikely. Perhaps a boat.

All in all it was a good day. Pops was feeling up to heading out into public to get some chow and we wrapped up the evening sans any keystone cops vs. hookers shenanigans. Your mileage may very on whether or not that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

And now I’m off to chip away at the backlog! Thank you, for your patience, gentle readers, and goodnight. This is the Nickness, signing off.

Somewhere, beyond the sea....

A note concerning tangents (redux) I

2011-07-02T20:06:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Lagos, Portugal (~pop. 19,000)

(37°06′N 8°40′W)

Day 1

Expedition Outlook: Expectant

Number of Attractive Female Truckers Spotted: 0

Ah, Readers Fair, hello again! It is a pleasure to be broadcasting to you once more from another expedition. We’ve got a little something different from our last go around for you this time. An intriguing new cast, exciting new locations, and a myriad of brand new objectives, both hidden and not. Hannibal, Corona, Eloise, you will be missed. Edison, well, I am despairing, for in your absence I lack a suitable partner for our “Please be kind to my retarded brother” grift. Ah well, I will find a way to press on.

Rejoining the ranks for the latest ride on the merry-go-round are Jameson and Tachikoma. So far from home Tachikoa will be operating in a much diminished capacity, but there’s not much to be done about that. Filling Eloise’s space as navigator is the equally nefarious Kat. I’ve traded in Edison for two different human companions, Pop and the Lady. Though not as well trained, nor possessing such an impressive natural talent, in the ways of being awful, I think they’ll still provide adequate character to the Expedition with their wisdom, experience and beauty. Hannibal has been replaced by my dear Brother. I hope he can provide just as much excitement while perhaps being slightly more responsible and tractable.

Now for all of my dedicated fans who have not yet fallen asleep reading my eyeball numbing rambles, let’s get on with the adventure!

We departed Newark, NJ and took flight, soaring through the evening skies and arriving, uneventfully, in Lisbon, Portugal. While my companion for the flight was not an attractive young lady, she was also a sour smelling fat guy, so I’ll call that a TKO and move on. We were greeted by some of our delightful family and enjoyed a pleasant breakfast before the expedition acquired its temporary steed and proceed south to the town of Lagos in the Algarve. Expect to hear more of the delightful family in future broadcasts. Regarding this new steed, well, he is no Corona, but has thus far performed adequately. We’ll see how things go as time progresses and he reveals more of his character to me.

After getting settled, we embarked on our very first excursion: explore town, find dinner. Exciting, I know, but best to start with rudimentary objectives. The town is, simply put, beautiful in a way that I’ve yet to experience in the States. Not better, just… different. The main area of activity is actually in the city’s historic district. The streets are narrow, the walks cobbled and mosaic’d, and there is a feeling of age without oldness. I imagine the latter is common throughout Europe.

We explored briefly, established waypoints, and noted possible destinations for future excursions. We also had some amazing fracking dinner. Best steak I’ve had in a while and crepe suzettes that’d cause a bodhisattva to forsake the quest for enlightenment.

We also had our first escapade of the Expedition. (Well technically the second. Trying to park our Steed in the Marina garage was a bit of a fiasco. Imagine a tiny underground space with rows of concrete cubicles, just big enough to fit a car, facing each other from opposite walls. Now imagine that the only way to access these cubicles is a narrow path maybe two and a half car widths wide. You might be asking yourselves, “Well how would you maneuver your car to park it given those circumstances?” Pure luck and a person standing outside to let you know that you have two millimeters of clearance on that front quarter panel, so just go for it or the car is never going to fit.” I’ll endeavor to grab a photo later. It’s quite insane.)

At any rate, the expedition temporarily split up, and during the course of this split your lovable narrator met some young ladies who worked as hawkers for a local bar. They were cute and sociable (good traits for a hawker) so I figured what the heck, I buy a drink (which turned out to be pretty mediocre, no wonder the bar needs hawkers) they get a commission, some enjoyable empty flirting occurs, everybody wins. Well, turns out somebody forgot to give the script to Lady and Pops. The Lady mistook the hawkers as nefarious (perhaps Batlabian? I could see why she might be paranoid about them after the broadcasts from the last Expedition) evil-doers out to prey upon the innocent. “What brand of evil doer?” you might be asking yourself. Well let me tell you: evil nefarious organ stealing prostitutes. So the two of them hatched a complicated CIA style operation to find my location and rescue me. I was busy nursing my sub-par gin & tonic and chatting with the bartender, so I missed the antics myself, but I understand they were quite the spectacle to behold. Pops did locate me and provided an extremely convenient excuse to avoid purchasing another drink, so off we went. Once I filled the Lady in on the script we all had a good laugh and wrapped up the evening.

And that’s all she wrote, at least for now. Pops is feeling a bit under the weather, but other than that, Expedition spirits are high. Check back a little later today for the post about day 2 and some photographs. For now though, thank you for reading and welcome back! This is the Nickness, signing off.

A note concerning post mortems

2010-08-08T09:23:00.000+01:00

Hello, readers. As I draft this, it is already well past four in the A.M. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to me, but trying to wrap up this 19 day journey in a single day is an almost impossible task, particularly with another week of adventure ahead of us that we are departing for in but 6 hours. There is a lot of data to compile, and a lot of thoughts to be caught and laid out. We'll be postponing our final report until after Pennsic has run its course. If you're still interested, check back in a week or so. If this is where we part ways, then thanks for following along. This trip was an amazing experience for us, and if in some way we could bring some joy or adventure into your lives by sharing it with you here, then all the better. See you on the other side of Pennsylvania. This is the Nickness, signing off.

A note concerning tangents: (XIX)

2010-08-07T09:05:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Ocean Township, NJ (pop~27,000)

(N40°14.248’, W074°03.929, elev: 165’)

Distance traveled leg 19: 609.0 miles

Total Distance traveled: 7105.5 miles

Distance from our terminus in NJ: 0 miles

Expedition Outlook: Pensive

Good day to you again, treasured readers. It is with a bittersweet heart that I inform you that I am broadcasting now from the end of the tour. As of midnight, August 7^th Corona has pulled into her final port of call (as far as the expedition is concerned at any rate, Edison, Corona, and I are far from done adventuring).

While we did not finish with a whizzbang excursion, we did button up the trip with another impressive sprint. 609 miles from Columbus to Ocean, roughly a nine hour journey. That’s our third longest run. So here we go folks, short and sweet tonight, like a sugary elf:

Hannibal's final victims.

We awoke in Dayton to some very enthusiastic dogs. Once Edison finished reinventing the shower and then spending eight weeks teaching himself how to use the new design and eventually got clean, we joined his family for a pleasant breakfast. I’d like to thank Patti and Bryant for letting us crash at their place and Alexis and Neil for putting up with weird uncle Edison and his strange friend. I can’t speak for Edison, but I felt very welcome.

It actually ranges pretty far back.

We parted ways and the expedition set forth for Columbus, Ohio’s capitol. For important state business one might assume based on the expedition’s stature and importance, but one would be incorrect. All pleasure this trip, we checked business in MA before we left. No, folks, we went to Columbus to see a topiary sculpture. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the famous Seurat painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Isle of Le Grande Jatte (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Georges_Seurat_-_Un_dimanche_après-midi_à_l%27Île_de_la_Grande_Jatte.jpg). Maybe not by name, but it’s a pretty popular work. Anyway, this fellow named James Mason did a pretty keen job on creating a 3-D interpretation of it with topiary shrubs at a park in Columbus, OH. It was pretty groovy. And there were some huge Koi.

We called him Casper, because he was huge, lazy, and didn't appear to be very bright. For those of you that don't know the cat, we called him Casper because he was white.

After that it was pretty much just open road briefly through West Virgina, then PA, then finally the good ‘ol Garden State, New Jersey. Edison, anything to add?

[Notes from Edison: Over. Hard to believe. We were talking about this in the car on the way home. It seemed like it passed by in such a flash, but I can barely remember the events just before we left. And despite being over in a flash, it was a significant chunk of a month. Crazy stuff, folks. Time is relative to the observer, proof of that whole special relativity thing.

I’ll save wrap-up for tomorrow, but for today I’m happy to be back where everyone knows our name, as it were. Now to gear up for Pennsic! I’m going to pass out and leave you all to the Nickness’s not-so-tender mercies.

Before leaving, have some quotes: “At every crisis in one's life, it is absolute salvation to have some sympathetic friend to whom you can think aloud without restraint or misgiving.”

Golf is a game in which one endeavors to control a ball with implements ill adapted for the purpose.”

If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience.” - Woodrow Wilson

“Being president is like being a jackass in a hailstorm. There's nothing to do but to stand there and take it.” – Lyndon B. Johnson

Ar thoufath and sayanora! Love and Peace, and sleep the sleep of the just. I assure you I will, deservedly or not. We are Sci-Fi!]

Most of the expedition crew is in a similar state. It is kind of hard to believe that it’s over, that we don’t have to be up for a 300 mile trip into the unknown first thing in the morning. We’re all a little subdued, lost in thought. Tonight’s will be the penultimate broadcast. Tomorrow we’ll have a wrap up to share with you guys. As for now, I think we could all use some sleep. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Even at the end Eloise can't help herself. Our Destination is actually just to the left of the car icon, not at the end of the street where she is directing us.

Thank you for tuning in! On our text episode: It's All Over But For the Looting And Hiding Of The Bodies; No, Seriously, That's All She Wrote; Not Only Has The Fat Lady Sung, But She Has Eaten The Orchestra; Fin.

A note concerning tangents: (XVIII)

2010-08-06T09:33:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Dayton, OH (pop~166,200)

(N39°50.151, W084°07.496, elev: 930’)

Distance traveled leg 18: 448.5 miles

Total Distance traveled: 6496.5 miles

Distance from our terminus in NJ: 598.2 miles

Expedition Outlook: Relaxed

Place we’ve heard about during our travels and least wanted to visit based on its name alone: Smallpox Island, IL.

Good tidings from Ohio. It’s been over two weeks since last we were in the Buckeye State. Morale continues to ride the high from the events in St. Louis. Regrettably, today was another driving day, but we did have time for an excursion in the morning.

Is he bluffing? Only time will tell.

Per Brandie’s advice, we went out and got ourselves some BBQ Pork Steak. One of the better lunches we’ve had over the course of the expedition. It’s a shoulder cut that is apparently quite popular in St. Louis style barbecue. Not hard to see why. The meat has a flavor that lies in a pleasant space between pork chops and ham. If you can get your mitts on some and haven’t had any, I’d certainly recommend it.

A close up of the fearsome Piasa.

Seeing as the most awesome park ranger had not led us wrong yet, we continued on her suggested course, traveling north along what is colloquially called the river road. The IL side of the Mississippi is dominated by gorgeous limestone bluffs, something I never knew and wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t told to us. We took a very relaxing cruise fifteen or so miles along the river to the town of Grafton. On the way we saw a recreation of a native mural that used to adorn the bluffs 1600s. The mural is of a mythical creature called the Piasa.

After browsing Grafton, we followed the Mississippi south, our destination being the Gateway Geyser located in Eastern St. Louis, IL. En route we stopped back in Alton to take a look at the square that served as the site of the 7^th and final of the Lincoln-Douglas debates. Erected in the square are some statues of Lincoln and Douglas in mid debate. It was actually pretty cool as far as monuments go. I don’t know that I’d go so far as to say that the place was heavy with the weight of history or anything, but there was a definite twinge of something in the air.

It was hitting somewhere in the range of 400 feet today we think.

No twinges at the Gateway Geyser but plenty of spectacle. Almost directly across the Mississippi from the Arch is the second most powerful fountain in the world. On a calm day the Gateway Geyser’s four 800 horsepower pumps can propel a jet of water just over 600 feet into the air, close to mimicking the Arch’s 630 foot stature. The fountain is located in an open landscaped field with very little to do or ceremony. Four times a day they turn it on for fifteen minutes. While not precisely final destination material, it was an impressive feat of engineering worth seeing.

Aside from a quick jaunt through one of Edison’s father’s old stomping grounds, that pretty much ended our excursion for the day. Heads down we barreled on through to Dayton, Ohio, where Edison’s sister was kind enough to put us up for the night. It is very much appreciated, Patti, your home is wonderful, your pets affectionate, and the Man Cave super impressive.

Edison, care to contribute?

[Notes from Edison:

Thanks Patti! Always nice to see the family, especially since I don’t get to see you or Bryant, Alexis, or Neil, like ever. And yes, Chucky, you and Jelly too!

Would have been nice to see cousin Jack as well, but it wasn’t to be on this trip. Next summer!

And on a similar topic; Manda, I miss you lots: I love you, and I will see you as soon as I can. I wish it had worked out this trip as well. L

On a happier note, we’ll be able to hang out and talk and eat breakfast here tomorrow, which will be awesome. Then on to a park Dad suggested, and then we head east, towards the rising sun. Except that by then the sun will be receding behind us, but that screws the metaphor all up. No matter, reality is only one of the bases upon which I set my world.

You ever notice how people who try and make themselves beautiful end up looking like aliens? What does that say about our expectations? What does that say about the state of medical practice in the modern age? Does it mean the docs are aliens? The people? Or am I a paranoid nutjob? Film at eleven!

Let’s see: Injuries so far sustained on trip include 2^nd degree sunburn, serious dehydration/sun poisoning, bruised knee, and nearly pulled thigh. Oh, and some skin off a knuckle, I have no idea from where. That’s not bad, considering all of the stuff we’ve done. I mean, I don’t think it’s that bad. Maybe I have weird expectations.

More presidential quotes: “I mean to make myself a man, and if I succeed in that, I shall succeed in everything else.” – James A. Garfield

“One man with courage makes a majority.” – Andrew Jackson

“I have found the best way to give advice to your children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it.” – Harry S. Truman

Slán and lehitraot! Love and Peace, and take yourself just a little less seriously today, we’ll all have a good time. This is not much like Sparta!]

Definitely less giant holes, Persians, and men in leather diapers than Sparta had. Very observant of you, Edison. It would seem, gentle readers, that our insanity only grows in leaps and bounds as the expedition length increases and as we get further east. For example, we are both still awake, at an hour, I will admit, neither of us is stranger to, but none the less it is an hour we have avoided for the most part due to the necessity of us rising before noon. Methinks it’d be best to attend to my sleep before the sun actually peeks its head over the horizon. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

You'll never guess what's in the foreground of this photo.

Thanks for tuning in! On our next episode: A Landscape Of A Painting Of A Landscape; Bye Bye Buckeye; A Sudden Twist!; Have We Seen The Last Of The Big People?

A note concerning tangents: (XVII)

2010-08-05T11:25:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Alton, IL (pop~ 29,200)

(N38°55.121, W090°09.842, elev: 546’)

Distance traveled leg 17: 72.7 miles

Total Distance traveled: 6048 miles

Expedition Outlook: child-like

Total number of hats included amongst Edison’s expedition gear: 9

Bonus Data: Number of hats acquire since expedition onset: 4

Greetings to you, fair readers, I am finally once again broadcasting from east of the Mississippi. I suppose this means we have officially returned to the east. Today was a good day. The past three days were faring poorly in the tall shadow cast by Arches National Park. A definite downward trend had started to develop, but no worries, readers dear, St. Louis has defeated this spiraling motion and sent us soaring once again into the stratosphere of wonder and delight.

The city itself possessed a fairly hybrid set of characteristics in regards to east vs. west. The bits of it we saw were clean and, like most urban areas, ranged from ramshackle to opulent. A noticeable amount of 1930’s Art Deco architecture, a style I’ve always been partial to, was in evidence. Everywhere we went people were not only friendly, but actively went out of their way to be helpful. I worry that our travels have spoiled us with smiling people (As well 75mph roads. Even Edison is feeling a bit of the ‘ol leadfoot).

"How awesome is this?," you might ask. The answer: very.

Upon arriving in the city we snagged some victuals at the 12^th Street Diner and I was once again impressed that there are short order cooks that actually know how to create a better than adequate meal. We next set off for our first destination, City Museum, a location that was effectively drawn out of a hat. We must either be children or idiots (or some combination thereof), because once again fortune smiled upon us. The description we had read did not prepare us for the sight that greeted our arrival: It looked like someone built the coolest fort ever out of a junkyard. There were planes, actual airplanes, with great steel lattices connecting them to crenellated towers. There was a fire truck mounted on a terrace extending from a tree fort. There was even a giant ball pit. And all of this was before we even got in the door.

Understand that everything you see here is hollow and full of children.

The interior of the building, if anything, ramped things up another notch. Everything was covered in vibrant mosaics or interesting patterns of stuff (a whole wall covered in old printing plates, for example), or just sculpture. The first floor was a M.C. Escher like tangle of corridors, bridges, ladders, and tunnels, all sculpted out of fantastic shapes and designs; sea creatures, trees, forests, and caves all seamlessly blended into pure wonder. And you could climb, crawl, or slide along all of it. There were tunnels extending through the ceiling. Most of these spaces were so small that only children could fit through them, and believe me, there were children everywhere; coming out of the floor, the walls, scuttling along the tubes in the ceiling. I was jealous that I could not tread the same places they did. The second floor contained a more subdued set of physical engagement as well as some actual exhibits and an aquarium. There was another whole playground area on the roof that we very regrettably were unable to see because the museum closed much earlier than anticipated. What really engaged me about the City Museum was its demeanor. Most museums are all about the look but don’t touch; keep off. But City Museum not only said climb on, but it dared you as well. For the third time this trip, I hope that our photos and words will convey more than a mere splinter of the magic of this place to you, cherished readers.

Simple. Elegant. Majestic.

Heavily invigorated despite not being able to see the roof area, we headed to the Gateway Arch located in the Jefferson Westward Expansion Memorial, which itself is a national park. It is planted square on the banks of the Mississippi River and was built around the concept of honoring Thomas Jefferson’s vision and insight in acquiring the Louisiana Purchase and opening up the western frontier of the continent to our fledgling nation, as well as the history of our country’s expansion to the Pacific coast. The centerpiece is the 630 foot Gateway Arch. Built from concrete and steel, the Gateway Arch is the tallest monument in the United States, and is a feat of impressive engineering. Plus it looks cool as all get out. Much more impressive than Rushmore, I feel. Not much more to report after that. We took a late meal and then took off for Illinois.

Om nom nom nom.

Expedition members were in considerable good spirits today. Hannibal in particular was exceptionally rambunctious. In addition to charming ladies (and some wildlife) all over the city, our irrepressible ursine companion got himself into all sorts of mischief. Trying to keep tabs on him in City Museum, with its small spaces and maze-like construction proved to be an absolute nightmare. We weren’t in the building for more than fifteen minutes when the excursion team had to rescue him from a shark. (Edison was forced to wrestle it into submission).

You'd think he'd have learned his lesson from the shark.

Later on in the day, after disappearing for over an hour, we finally caught sight of him in the clutches of a giant mechanical eagle. I was able to blind the beast with a laser pointer, which had the desired effect of causing it to drop Hannibal and the unintended effect of causing it to chase me under an aquarium exhibit. I was able to escape by crawling out through one of the museum’s prevalent crawlspaces.

International incident in 3,2,1...

You’d think antagonizing animals would be enough for him, but no. We also found him sparring with a sumo wrestler. It took some prodigious prying to get the two separated, as well as some eyelash batting on Edison’s part (I think the wrestler fancied him). At this point we tried to give him a stern talking to, but it was too late, and our admonitions fell on deaf ears.

We're not sure how he was planning to operate the pedals.

You see, he had found some hooch somewhere and was an incredible 28 sheets to the wind. Despite considerable issues with remaining upright he managed to slip off again while were in the bathroom. He fortunately spent the majority of his drunk trying to operate the non-functional machinery in the outdoor exploration space. We found him passed out on the steering wheel of the fire truck. Headache though it was, it’s nice to see that he’s kicked the mopey mood he’s been displaying since the Black Hills.

He always looks so smug.

Before I let Edison have a go, I’d like to set aside some broadcast time to extend an extra special thanks to the lovely Heidi for putting up with both Hannibal and our odd requests. We really do appreciate it. I’d also like to thank the super awesome Brandie, once again for putting up with Hannibal, but more importantly for being a kind and cheery spirit six hundred and thirty feet over St. Louis. On her advice we selected our Alton as our ending destination and we’ll be checking out some recommended attractions and cuisine on the morrow as well. If they are even half as pleasant as the woman who suggested them then it will be time well spent.

The photo poorly captures the high levels of both awesome and groove present here.

Now, for your reading pleasure, the significantly less lovely, Edison!

[Notes from Edison:

After that introduction I feel like this will all be a horrible let-down, but I will bravely soldier on. As usual.

There is a movie trope that I believe may both apply and not apply here, called ‘Jumping the Shark’. In a very literal sense it is true for us, but I feel that if you then wrestle the shark to the ground and bludgeon it senseless than you have, in effect, defeated the trope and are free of its defining influence. If not than we might as well quit, because we have also jumped the Giant Eagle, the African Caiman, the Skeletonized Undead Magical Leopluridon, the 1920’s Ford Fire Engine, and the Coin-Operated Coke Bottle Dispenser. Today was very adventurous.

Okay, for those of you who have children, may soon have children, are considering having children sometime in the far distant future, or who simply feel fairly childlike and don’t mind looking like a total ass, you NEED to go to the City Museum in St. Louis. It is seriously the best kid place ever. I so wish there was something like it when I was growing up. Like woah. I actually climbed through little tiny tunnels and wire-frame tubes hanging way up in the sky, without considering what might happen if all of the engineering involved suddenly failed. And I loved it. Me, paranoid guy. Like… woah.

The Arch. Was very cool. I was mucho impressed, and I’m glad we took the time to go up inside it. And after our morning, I didn’t even worry much about the engineering there either. Of course, it helped that the arch typically sways about a half-inch over the course of a normal day. The most it has moved was about 4 inches, when a freaking tornado hit it. The structure was designed to move up to eighteen inches (9 in either direction) in 150-mile-an-hour winds. Like, you know, a Category 5 Hurricane. So, not much to worry about there since it was balmy and muggy and less than windy. By the way, GROSS and muggy, but that’s a different story.

Two quotes from Teddy: “If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn't sit for a month.”

“When they call the roll in the Senate, the Senators do not know whether to answer ‘Present’ or ‘Not guilty.’”

And one particularly appropriate one from James Madison, another McSmartypants: “Let me recommend the best medicine in the world: a long journey, at a mild season, through a pleasant country, in easy stages.”

Hear, hear.

Love and Peace, and give each other a big old hug for me. Salani kahle and zayt gezunt! We have jumped the Sharks AND the Jets!]

In the time it took Edison to compose that, I think my brain has gone sour. It may have something to do with the hour, which is either ridiculously late or ludicrously early, depending on where you would care to view it from. May your days be as full as ours and your company as rich. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Look neat at all hours, unlike some other monuments we might care to name.

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Myth Bird Flies!, A Slab Of Your Finest Beast, Sir; You Could Cut A Car In Half With Water Moving At That Speed, The Countdown Begins

A note concerning tangents: (XVI)

2010-08-04T08:51:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Foristell, MO

(N38°49.10’, W090°54.27’)

Distance traveled leg 16: 778.0 miles

Total Distance traveled: 5975.3 miles

Expedition Outlook: We are the Walrus

Number of times Edison has made a joke and laughed himself to shortness of breath: At least a half dozen.

*Bonus Data*Number of times ANY member of the expedition also laughed: No more than twice.

Sadly, we never did get to visit Hannibal (actually the town Samuel Clemens grew up in)

Well, dedicated readers, we unintentionally beat our distance record by over 100 miles today. Because of our rest stop antic of the previous evening, we were on the road again by probably 8 and frankly we just kept driving. Eloise charted a course that took us through SD into IO, down through NE, back into IO and finally into MO. We didn’t really stop save for refuels until MO and even then that was a brief excursion. As a result we are ahead of schedule and have bought ourselves a bit more wiggle room for our return east.

The Room (please waggle your fingers spookily when you read the caption)

Our one stop was in St. Joseph, MO, formerly one of the terminus points for the Pony Express as well as the home of the notorious bandit Jesse James. Though we surged across the land with mighty speed, we were only able to briefly sample St. Joseph’s attractions before they closed. We settled on the house of Jesse James. Not a bad place to get out and stretch the legs, learned some about the man and all the craziness surrounding his death. Would have been neat to see the Pony Express stuff and the military museum, but everything in St. Joseph’s was icing, as it were, and not worth delaying for. If Chicago is any indicator, having a full day for St. Louis will serve us well, and will almost certainly deliver a higher yield than St. Joseph’s would have.

Spirits are bright despite the marathon run, and the party is looking forward to seeing St. Louis tomorrow.

Can't really blame them.

Hannibal had a long soak in the hot tub followed by a nap. The Crew Bears took this as an open invitation to prank Hannibal and it was only by pure chance that I was able to catch them before they commenced with their vandalism operation.

Eloise is still recovering from whatever forces had her so confused in the Black Hills. She suffered several bouts of disorientation throughout most of the day until we got to MO. Her power supply is also still acting pretty dodgey. I believe that these handicaps are the only things that have prevented her from outright destroying us. We’ll have to see how she fares tomorrow.

I have come to suspect that Edison needs to engage in some sort of maintenance or ritual practice to keep himself from sublimating into a snarl of chaotic energy. I think the trip prevents him from completing that ritual or distances him from some point of power that he needs visit. As the days have accrued his ability to maintain a façade of sanity has waned. His coherency seems to hit a nadir whenever we’re in Corona and he doesn’t even have to try to keep it together. As I am largely protected from Edison’s powers and abilities, I am more intrigued than concerned about his condition. Will he become totally unhinged before we get to New Jersey or will critical mass be delayed until Pennsic? My curiosity has been engaged and I’m not so certain I would intervene even if there was something I could do.

Edison, is there any insight that you would like to offer about this or anything else?

[Notes from Edison: Me? Why, I am perfectly fine, sir. I have no idea what state you may be referring to. *twitch*

Speaking of Jesse James, one of my ancestors on the Cassell branch was supposed to have ridden with Quantrill's Raiders and was fleeing the tax men with Jesse and Frank and the Youngers when he was shot from behind and subsequently trampled. I believe his name was Frank, and he used the easier version of the family name, Castle. And yes, I know that's the name of the Punisher from Marvel comics. Regardless.

Not much else to report today. I slept poorly over the last day and a half and was constantly slipping in and out of sleep when Nick was driving, I'm going to try and make sure I'm more alert tomorrow. Let me leave you with two quotes from Thomas Jefferson, one of the smartest guys ever. First on government:"I know of no safe depository of the ultimate powers of the society but the people themselves; and if we think them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, the remedy is not to take it from them but to inform their discretion." Second, on his own life: "I was bold in the pursuit of knowledge, never fearing to follow truth and reason to whatever results they led, and bearding every authority which stood in their way."

You could have a hell of a worse epitaph.

Love and Peace, and take care of each other out there. Farvel and amayugotoro! Today you can win!]

I think if you were to combine all of the members of the expedition into one gestalt being you'd have a creature with something approximating normal sleep habits (not to mention one handsome devil). In typical expedition fashion (We've noticed that we are always going against the flow of traffic and doing everything backwards), we will be entering the Gateway to the West, from the west. For now though, to sleep. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thanks for tuning in! Don't forget, the full broadcast for Leg XV was broadcast just before this on. On tomorrow's episode: What's With All The Saints Around Here?; Who Knew Missouri Was All Up In The Business of The Civil War?; Mississippi River: Round 2; The Alpha Of The Omega

A note concerning tangents: (XV)

2010-08-04T08:33:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Chamberlain, SD

(coordinates unavailable)

Distance traveled leg 14: 354.6miles

Total Distance traveled: 5197.3miles

Expedition Outlook: Circling like a dog about to go to sleep

Worst President Ever: Warren G. Harding

For the sake of completeness I’ll write up leg 14 as its own entry. As previously indicated, we didn’t get a chance to broadcast since we pulled a bit of a night drive and crashed in Corona at a rest stop for a few hours before moving on. So without further ado, the Black Hills:

Keystone by night.

We had high hopes for the Black Hills and South Dakota. Many people we spoke to recommended them over the Bad Lands and North Dakota. Without speaking for my companions, I can say that I preferred the Bad Lands. I thought the country was a little more beautiful and it was definitely less commercialized. There was certainly more to do in the Black Hills, but the bulk of it was kitsch and glitz and tourist trap sort of things. We did not get an opportunity to do more than drive through one of the national park grounds, so I can’t speak on the hiking aspects of the region.

Don't judge us.

Our first excursion was into Keystone, the town closest to Rushmore. Like many towns in the Hills it was a gold boomtown. It’s official population is listed at just over 300 and there are probably five times that many in transients at any given point. The party browsed the shops, which while similar to what Moab had to offer were in general less tasteful and engaging. It was a cute town, but the large press of people and our own time constraints prevented us from making the best we could of it.

In order:P. McCartney, R. Starr, J. Lenon, G. Harrison.

Afterwards we went to Rushmore again, and in the daylight it did seem more grand, but I was not as impressed as I thought I’d be when we were still discussing the visit in potentia. I found the memorial grounds and museums to be more engaging than staring at the mountain, and they were informative and well put together. Of note was the uncompleted Hall of Records. Did you know that there is a valley behind the heads? In that valley Gustov Borglum, the sculptor, began to excavate a massive chamber that he would use to house records of the monument’s constructive, the stories of the men memorialized, as well as important documents, histories, and other information of significance to the United States. The erosion rate of granite on Rushmore is one inch every ten thousand years. Borglum felt is was important that if the monument was discovered long after our civilization was dust that whoever found it should know why it was there. He didn’t get very far before Congress shut him down and told him he could only work on the statue. Since Borglum died and the money ran out before he even completed his plan for the presidents, the Hall languished until the late nineties when his children tried to complete the project. Unable to raise enough funds, they settled for sinking a time capsule with copies of some important US documents, info about Borglum and the presidents depicted, and documents detailing how and why the monument was built. This area is inaccessible to the public and can’t be seen except from the air. I think its unknown qualities are what appeal to me most.

I'm sorry, but this is right on the border of Big People.

After Rushmore we hit up the Presidential Wax Museum. It was a neat place. I learned some stuff about presidents I had likely only ever heard of back in grade school when we needed to learn who they were. The sculptures were a mix of uncannily realistic (Teddy Roosevelt, Dwight Eisenhower) to unsettlingly creepy (Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter). Most of them were set up in dioramas. Overall the experience was an unexpected treat.

We followed up by driving through Hills, briefly hitting Rapids City, taking a brief stop to visit an underground waterfall, and then moving on to the infamous Deadwood. By the time we got there all of the historical bits were closed, so we missed out on the street shows and seeing the Boot Hill cemetery (where folks like Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane were laid to rest). As it turns out, casinos are very big in Deadwood, to the point where to get to most of the shops and restaurants you have to walk through a casino first . We trotted around town, soaking in the atmosphere, before selecting a restaurant at random and grabbing a bite to eat. Once we were done, it was back to the road with us.

Deadwood, also by night.

Overall the Black Hills were fun, but not as fun as expected. I would be curious to go back and poke over some of the areas of Deadwood that were closed, and even more curious to hike around some of the national park cave systems. Maybe next time.

Edison, anything to add?

[Notes from Edison

It was nice to see the flags for all of the American Territories represented alongside the states, and I did feel a twinge of national pride looking at the Faces on the mountain. Also, I found many of the words of the (early) presidents very inspiring, and plan to look into quotes by especially Jefferson and Roosevelt when I get the chance. Great words by great men, and not duplicated in our time, in my opinion mostly because the cheating scum don't write their own speeches. Yes, I'm biased.

The crass commercialism of the whole area left me cold. They could have done so much better, and they didn't even try. The best time I had on this leg was walking into the Thunderhead Falls mine site, an old gold mine that was abandoned when blasting released a waterfall into the mine, which still runs out today. Keep in mind that this is a 600-foot shaft in solid granite, blasted by digging holes with hand tools and then packing it with black powder, since trinitrotoluene still hadn't been invented. Amazing. Also, the kid who did the talk at the Rushmore workshop was really good, and had everyone involved and interested. Kudos.

Also, the people at the hotel totally rooked us. And I, right now, psychically punch them in a sensitive place.

On a more zen note, I give you a familiar quote for many of us from my personal favorite president, Teddy Roosevelt: "Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs; even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much, nor suffer much; for they live (not dwell, Kil) in the grey twilight that knows not victory, nor defeat."

Love and Peace, and take an extra moment to appreciate each other out there. Ciao and veloma! We're the ones who make it better!]

Thunderhead falls was indeed very nifty. Wonderland Cave, on the other hand, can eat a big bag of d... Hrmm, I suppose I'll leash my tongue on the behalf of our gentler readers. Suffice to say Wonderland Cave is getting put up against the wall (along with Idaho) when the revolution comes. The past though, is the past (unless it comes back as a zombie), dwelling is a verb best used with houses and we explorers must remain ever bright and ever moving (because if you look down, you'll realize the cliff ended 30 yards ago). Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Well You Can Just Read About It Right Now, Can't You? Get On With It Then.

A note concerning tangents: Tachikoma 1

2010-08-03T13:12:00.000+01:00

Cherished readers, the expedition would like to apologize for its lack of broadcast. The majority of our technology ceased to funtion from the heart of the Black Hills. We're presently on the move to St. Louis and logistically(and tactically to put extra disrance between would be pursuers that know our patterns) it made better sense to keep on the move for as long as possible and then snag some sleep at a rest station. Our tech is now once again available to us, though the lack of proper facilities means no true Internet, so I'm ury rigging this broadcast through Tachikoma's satellite network. Once we regain access for what passes for civilization we'll provide a full recounting of yesterday's excursion. We appreciate your patience in this matter. Thank you, America. Nickness out.

A note concerning tangents: (XIV)

2010-08-02T10:22:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Keystone, SD (pop. ~300)

(N43°53.667, W103°25.358, elev: 5398 feet)

Distance traveled this leg: 430.4 miles

Total Distance traveled: 4842.7 miles

Expedition Outlook: Underwhelmed

Nearest Address(according to Eloise): 405 Holy Terror Trail

Greetings from South Dakota! I know how it might seem, but the root is not as circuitous as you might think. We’re in the south western corner of the state, effectively just over the border with both Nebraska and Montana, in the Black Hills region, which we plan on exploring a bit of tomorrow.

This is precisely what it looks like.

Denver by day is a fairly typical sprawling western city. Cars are more prevalent as the main means of getting around is by swarming all over raised highways to get hither and to (as opposed to your New York or Boston or, as we discovered, Chicago) where auto travel on the streets moves at the speed of continental drift and foot and mass transit are for more the norm. From our narrow point of view, Denver seemed smaller than SLC, and under significantly more construction. What was built seemed well kept and clean though and the roads were nice. After a brief detour to check out some local Big People, we set our crosshairs on Alliance, Nebraska.

So contrary to sentiments expressed in yesterday’s broadcast, Colorado actually only spent half of its surplus budget on mountains. It apparently didn’t want to feel left out what with all of the extra sky that the nearby states like Nebraska and Utah were purchasing, so it got in on that action on the ground floor and decided to store it all on the eastern side of the state. I’m not sure why it felt the need to put up the mountains between itself and Utah, Utah seemed like a pretty reasonable place. I’d get it if it was Idaho, but Colorado has a blissful one state buffer to protect it. I’ll chalk it down as a mystery of the Primal World. I guess I wouldn’t really be me if I didn’t hazard at least one reasonable theory so here we go: All of the western states were hanging out the geography shop, shooting the breeze, maybe ogling and waggling eye brows at some of the southern states from across the aisle, when word gets out that Idaho is settling down in the northwest. Bam, next thing you know everyone is buying mountains and throwing them up willy nilly like the arms of a nerdy kid alone in a dodgeball circle. I know I felt better once I had the Rockies between me and Idaho.

Try and imagine driving through this for hours.

But I digress, let’s get back on track with Nebraska: Fields and farms, with a slightly more green and slightly less beef than South Dakota; Buckets of sky, and, at least for the duration of our trip through, piles of weather. We drove around these two oddly dancing storm fronts pretty much for our entire drive, and only got rained on briefly. We could see downpours in the distance on either side of us. We could see lighting and other nonsense. We actually got to a portion of sky where there were clouds under other clouds. And to be clear, what I mean that was a huge thick ceiling of cloud way up high blotting out the sun, and then under that, where you would normally expect to see clouds, were, well, clouds. In the shade. It was very surreal.

This, to me, is America in action.

And speaking of surreal, we have our only stop in NE: Alliance and Carhenge. In case you were not aware, Carhenge was the first and essentially only destination we had in mind before actually getting in the car. It has the distinction of being one of two locations that catalyzed me into wanting to take this trip (the other is a statue of Vulcan in Alabama which I will get around to seeing once I put together a trip through the south). It was everything I expected it to be and that was very satisfying. Take Stonehenge, the one in England. Map it out in a field in Nebraska, except wherever there should be a huge chunk of prehistoric stone there is instead a junked automobile spray-painted battleship gray. While not a site of ancient primal power, that field in Alliance definitely has its own ‘woog’ factor. Especially with all of the bizarre weather occurring around it.

After sating ourselves on woog, we boarded Corona and began the journey north to the Black Hills. Once again, Edison earned the god’s ire and a thick blanket of clouds trailed us, spitting like an irate camel the whole way. The major impact of this was not the road conditions, but rather that Eloise could not link up with her orbital mothership and was totally lost and disoriented. For the first time on the expedition we were reduced to analog navigation (as Tachikoma was also having reception issues). In an unexpected turn of events, Paliachi joined Edison at the nav station and we were able to make it to Keystone with little difficulty.

Those are the culprits in the back, behind all of the flags.

Having heard rumors of Rushmore being illuminated at night, we decided to make our way to the mountain and see what there was to see while we had the opportunity to do so in the dark. We arrived partially through the pre-illumination ‘program’ which seemed to be a brief history of the monument and the accomplishments of the president’s memorialized there (Taft, Van Buren, Adams, and Garfield. Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge. I’ve also got a bridge to sell you…). After the ‘show’ they have a woman come out and sing our national anthem (which I maintain is not nearly as interesting and/or catchy as some of the other anthems out there) while they kick on some flood lights to brighten up those might president’s of old. I’m going to be honest with you, I was not impressed. I was expecting something with a little grandeur. When the lights came on I thought it was a replica because they couldn’t reasonably light the whole thing. I was incorrect. Edison shared a similar belief. We’re hoping that with the daylight on and some other background bits to provide context, it will seem more impressive. Apparently the heads are sixty feet tall, but that sense of scale wasn’t really conveyed at the night time viewing. We’ll have more to report on that tomorrow.

Who is more adorable here? I sure don't know.

Edison is practically frothing at the ears, but before I let him loose on Jameson I would like to reiterate our thanks to the magnanimous, benevolent, and compassionate Paige for putting the expedition up for the night. By the way, Hannibal thinks you’re a cutie. And now ladies and gentleman, please put on your eye and ear protection, because here’s Edison:

[Notes from Edison: No more eponymous food for me. Taco John’s was tasty but sat in my stomach like a brick. Done.

It’s kind of bittersweet knowing that we’re heading home, that we’ve hit our furthest west of the trip, and probably our highest elevation. We’ve also hit all of the places we had talked about during trip planning. (well, briefly in the case of Rushmore, but more of that tomorrow) We’re not quite to the end of the show, but we are definitely past intermission. Of course, we could run into some crazy thing the day after tomorrow that turns out to be the single greatest highlight of the trip, but from my current vantage it seems unlikely. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, I’m just muttering on in my usual imprecise and disjointed fashion, but I thought it should be said. So there.

I wish more people could have experienced this with us. I mean, in more than just the reading of this blog. We do have much pictorial (you know, maybe 2000 plus pics when we’re done) and some physical evidence to present when we finally return, but it won’t be the same. Explaining the Whale, or the sunsets over the far horizon, or for god’s sake Frankenmuth, is just not possible. And we’re not even going to remember all of the crazy things we’ve seen, there’s been so much. Insane signs, deranged people, placid bovines and rampaging Big People are all a jumble in our heads already, and it can only get worse. (or better, in our way of thinking)

But having this experience, and trying our best to relate it, has been and will be great. I think what I’m trying to get across is that this trip is wholly worthwhile, and I highly recommend that you all get on the planning of your own as soon as possible. I realize that my and Nick’s unusual circumstances allow us to do this without as many problems as most of you might experience, but it doesn’t have to be the same sort of thing. I mean, in 14 days we have seen a ton of great places, but it doesn’t take much to go to Chicago for a couple days, or to Florida, or just to D.C. to meander through the capitol. Heck, come to New York, you can sleep on my couch. I have reliable reports that it’s comfortable.

Whatever your time constraints, whatever your budget, there’s going to be something that will give you the same sort of Wow adventure we’re trucking through right now.

Okay, I sound like a car salesman, I have to stop. And speaking of trucking, we have STILL not seen any hot female truckers. And let me tell you we have looked. All over this country, the nation’s trucks are operated by dudes. White dudes. Not even (in my admittedly not expert opinion) attractive white dudes. A lot of them are afflicted with the Grizzle. Many could stand a bit of a workout. Some could do with a little body-jumping or something, ‘cus those guys are waaaay gone. I think all total we have seen three (scaaaary) women, maybe as many as 10 minority folks of one type or another. That’s it. Out of approximately Eleventy Squintillion Billion trucks that we have passed. Just sayin’.

I would also like to point out that in the Droid version of Cribbage, the computer cheats its little silicon butt off. I don’t have any proof of this, but I will get it. And then someone (probably Bill Gates) will pay. Also, Robo Defense is the most addictive game ever. Why do you need to know this? You don’t. Ignore me. It’s the best defense. That offense thing is just for show.

And since we’re on the subject of driving and the supernatural, let me read to you this excerpt from the Book of deBurgh: “It was late at night on the open road, speeding like a man on the run. A lifetime spent preparing for the journey. He is closer now and the search is on, reading from a map in the mind. Yes there's a ragged hill, and there's the boat on the river. And when the rain came down he heard a wild dog howl, there were voices in the night – “Don't do it!”, voices out of sight – “Don't do it!” Too many men have failed before; whatever you do: Don't pay the ferryman!”

As always, my plucky little sidekicks, Love and Peace, and take care of each other out there. Ka tanga dia and kenavo. We watch the watchers!]

I’m sorry, folks, I stepped out of the room for a moment and came back to find him wailing away at the keyboard like a team of monkeys trying to recreate Hamlet. If only a banana would quell him as easily. I fear the combo of Mexican food and woog from Nebraska is what brought this state on, but it seems to have largely quit his system. He has settled into a twitchy sleep and Hannibal has been able to relent on maintaining his submission hold. In all seriousness though, there are large kernels of truth at the core of Edison's rant. Particularly the bits about journeys (also truckers, which he was strangely lucid about). Having been on the road for fourteen days, I can't imagine having passed by this opportunity. We've been to some awe inspiring destinations, but the expedition itself is what is igniting the fires in our brains (also John's Tacos, in Edison's case, albeit not the good kind of fire and not just in his head, fate help us). Whether you gather a boon team like Xuanzhang, or you just get some drugs and go Kerouac style, get out there if you can see what this country of ours has to offer. Too quick are we to rush off foreign lands, I think. Trust me, you go even 1,000 mile from home and it feels like an altogether new country. I will forever more be an advocate for this sort of thing. OK, done belaboring the point for now. We've fortified for the night and now that all of the hatches are battened as it were, I too am off to dreamland. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: The Hills Are Black History!; Aren't You A Little Short To Be A National Monument?; It's A Good Thing His Head Is Attached As Firmly As It Is; Back To The Future: We Begin Our Return To The East!

A note concerning tangents: (XIII)

2010-08-01T09:19:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Denver, CO (pop. ~608,000)
(N39°40.906', W104°58.541', Elev: 5,316 feet)
Distance traveled on leg 13: TBA
Total Distance Traveled: TBA
Expedition Outlook: Revved Up

Yet another destination you might think we fabricated.

It's always nice to be able to begin these broadcasts with good news. In this case, I am pleased to report that Edison has recovered from his case of brain death and rejoined the expedition as active member (as opposed to our cooler, for example, which is a passive member).

Today was largely a another transit day. We strode around Moab in the early afternoon. While the proprietors were pleasant and some of the shops interesting, it was not quite the commercial experience of Frankenmuth, MI. Moab is a nice town, but the park is the gem of the area as far as I am concerned. Speaking of, I regret to report that I was unable to make it back to the park this morning. My body clearly needed the rest and made sure that I got it. I see it as less of a missed opportunity and more as an opportunity to return.

Mountains, and plenty of them.

The scrub land of Utah eventually gave way to the scrub land of Colorado, of which there isn't much. It didn't take us very long to reach what appears to be the eminent terrain style of the Coloradan landscape and which is new to the expedition: frickin' mountainous. Colorado apparently decided to spend all of its left over money on mountains. It is not an exaggeration to say that at least 50% of our trip to Denver from Moab was through the same mountain pass, including multiple tunnels and at least one river crossing. While the terrain was lovely enough, it was so tall and so close that it really prevented one from seeing much of anything or being able to take useful shots of what was actually there. Corona would like to add that she dislikes trying to negotiate steep grades at heights in excess of 7,000 feet. From the tiniest sliver that we've seen thus far it's hard to make a statement about Denver. We'll be venturing briefly into the city on our way out tomorrow so I hope to have more to offer then.

As we don't have much trip news to share, I can give a quick run down on the party:

That's Owen on the left.

Hannibal has been subdued since we got to Colorado. Perhaps this is bear country and he's feeling some greater purpose and primal call that is calming the raging waves of his inner oceans. Or he could be really hungover. He was unaccounted for for a large portion of last night after we got back from the park.

Edison tried to kill Eloise with a paradox loop while en route. Eloise deflected his attack with only some minor residual effect. Beyond that, things have been going rather smoothly with our Lazarusian navigator.

The Crew Bears have been having a lot of secret meetings. I think Paliachi is concocting a scheme with the other two. If I were Hannibal I'd tread carefully around those girls...

Edison, as I mentioned before, has rebounded in the manner of a weeble that wobbles but never actually falls down. Even as early as one o'clock in the post meridian he was employing his broadsword wit and oblique repartee to great effect. His ability to get sunburns simultaneously on his shins and calves is quite impressive. Speaking of our erudite companion, let's see if he can scrabble anything out into the broadcast without sounding like our good buddy, Das Jü:

[Notes from Edison: Hrm mumble clubberin' Brusha my teef!
No, really, I feel fine. The lixiviation of my brain was only a minor setback, and I'm sure the cravings for sweet sweet human flesh will go away soon enough. Though strawberry gatorade has been proven to be an unsatisfactory substitute for hot red blood. Anyway.
Not much to report today, except for our arrival in Denver and our excitement for the upcoming visit to Carhenge, the only attraction on this entire trip that we were sure we were going to visit before we left. Hopefully it will live up to its hype. Also we were able to meet today with the wonderful Paige, who was kind enough to let us crash at her flat for the evening. You will no doubt be seeing her in tomorrow's post.
For now, I will leave you with this; "A man walks down the street, it's a street in a strange world, maybe it's the Third World, maybe it's his first time around. He doesn't speak the language, he holds no currency, he is a foreign man, he is surrounded by the sound..."
Surreal, that. Well, for now biday and sag olun. Love and Peace, and take care of each other out there. We are not Hobos!]

No sir, we most certainly are not. The make up of our expedition team would be significantly changed (we'd have a lot more baggage for starters), not to mention our technology suite would be an entirely different bag of weasels. Perhaps in a parallel universe hobo equivalents of ourselves are going on a road trip. In the spirit of adventure I wish them godspeed and safe travels. As for us, it is time once again for our curtain call. Bow (only one is necessary Hannibal) and exeunt. Thank you, America, and goodnight. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thanks for tuning in! On our next episode: Un-Bearable!; Druids, Rev Your Engines!, Dakota Strikes Back!; Ah, I See What You Did There.

A note concerning tangents: (XII)

2010-07-31T09:24:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Moab, UT (pop~5,100)

(N38°33.906’, W109°33.023’, elev: 4056 feet)

Distance traveled this leg: 93.9, and that was just driving around Arches and back and forth to town.

Distance hiked in Arches National Park: Edison (~9 miles), Nickness & Hannibal (~13.5)

Total Distance traveled: 4052.9 miles

Expedition Outlook: Dehydrated

Number of Shooting Stars Seen Over the Utah Desert: 8

Vista seen from Partition Arch.

Hello again from Moab, fair readers. Arches National Park was phenomenal. In an apples and oranges sort of fashion it was just as good as the House on the Rock, which, as you may recall, has been the expedition’s current high point.

The entrance to Devils' Garden.

We managed to rouse ourselves at an hour that while not early for most people was early for us. In standard expedition fashion, there was much back slapping, egregious praise, and even a couple of medals and awards were issued. By time we were finished of course, we had used up a bunch of time, so we made haste to the park.

After a brief pow-wow session with a ranger, we had an agenda: Devil’s Garden (and its multitude of arches), the Windows and associated attractions, and finally Wolfe’s Ranch and the Delicate Arch.

Devil’s Garden is a roughly 7 mile trail loop (not including the hike out to the Dark Angel, which we omitted, or any of the other trail branches that we did take). We naturally assumed that we could handle a 7 mile hike on uneven terrain, complete with scrambling and climbing, all under the eye of Edison’s bitter foe, Apollo. This is an important thing to remember for later. We attacked the trail with our usual vim and vigor: With me boldly forging along ahead to provide the best first impression about the excursion team and to talk to any locals that may need talking to; Edison padding around, alert for all of those things that are important for a successful excursion to be aware of, such as: excellent photography vantages, trail heads, Batlabian desert skirmishers, hornets, suit cases full of money, pretty girls, hobos, and furious wildlife; Hannibal rides in the excursion pack and largely acts adorable until he can get within paw’s reach of an unsuspecting lady, at which point he acts lecherous and grabby.

Landscape Arch

The terrain, though uneven and a little treacherous, was trod beneath our might feet as we began our conquest of arches and other vistas. Something you should know about Devil’s Garden, the first few sites, Pine Tree Arch, Landscape Arch, Tunnel Arch , are all located on the ‘easy trail.’ To see the rest (Double O, Navajo Arch, Partition Arch, Private Arch, and if you’re interested, Dark Angel) visitors must assay the more strenuous Primitive Trail. Perhaps one of the excursion team’s greatest weaknesses is that it is entirely male (with the exception of Tachikoma, who doesn’t offer much on her own volition one way or another), so we lack a certain balanced perspective when it comes to decision making. In this case, we stuck with our original plan of doing the whole loop.

The top half of Double O.

The Primitive Trail was totally worth it; we saw a lot of interesting things and went a lot of interesting places, including some smaller arches that did not appear on the map. We also discovered that the sun is our enemy (more Edison’s than mine) and that while two liters of water, per person, is adequate, three liters would have been a lot better. Though we successfully completed the hike without becoming buzzard chow, Apollo dealt Edison a crushing blow, knocking him out of commission for the rest of the day. Hannibal and I weathered the trail much better, and after refueling, rehydrating, and returning Edison to our lodging, we returned to the park. Our unexpected time in town removed the possibility of hitting both of the remaining stops on our agenda, so we elected to head out to Wolfe Ranch and the Delicate Arch.

Delicate Arch at sunset.

It was well worth the trip, although there were definitely some moments where we were regretting our choice, in particular when we learned that the entire hike to the arch is uphill. None the less, frequent rest stops, an auspicious bag of carrots, and most importantly sheer stubbornness won the day and we finally gained the pinnacle and Delicate Arch. We even made good enough time that we could explore the region around the arch before watching the sunset over the canyons. Once Apollo smugly retired for the evening, the team made its way back to Corona. On a whim, we detoured onto the top of a bluff to watch the sky (there were some thunderheads in the distance and an occasional lighting flash, although nothing really came of it). There is very little light to bleed into the sky that deep into the park, and the sky overhead was clear enough to allow the Milky Way to be seen, as well as a number of shooting stars and an object I’m assuming was a satellite but could very well have been aliens. I was even able to pick out some constellations and other phenomena thanks to our trip to the Adler in Chicago. If you’re still reading this, thank you again Pat, for giving me the lay of the land above the horizon. After an hour or so of gazing, we finally packed it in and headed back to base.

Landscape near Delicate Arch.

While I cannot speak for other expedition members, I can certainly relate my thoughts and feelings about this place. First off, if you’re a fan of national parks and hiking, and if you are able, go there. You might even want to consider going even if these things don’t typically interest you. The land has a very primal feel. Everything is huge and shaped by forces more complex and vast than anything man has likely conceived of. It’s places like these that give me a perspective on just how fascinating and wonderful a world we live in. There was a moment, when were resting in the shade under Private Arch and staring at these magnificent canyon walls, when I realized that there was utter silence around us. No plants to rustle, no wind to rustle them, no bugs, or animals, or birds, no people, no sounds of civilization, there was nothing but the sound of my own pulse in my ears and the breath in my lungs. It is the only time I can remember ever being anywhere in absolute silence. It was awesome, and the truest sense of the word, which is to say “inspiring awe.” Later in the day, at Delicate Arch, I climbed up a rocky column, and perched there, a good 600 feet above the plateau where Corona was distantly parked (which itself is over 5000 feet above sea level), and I could see for miles. And the only thing I could see was desert and scrub and canyons and rocky spires and this magnificent, improbable arch of sandstone. I was so high up that I could see both ends of a rainbow whose feet easily straddled an expanse of land whose width would need to be measured in miles. Everything was so stunning and it filled me with a sense of wonder and vigor and vibrancy and just plain ‘ol good feeling. For a few brief moments it was as if the world was a perfect place, with everything in alignment, and despite being a mile above sea level, head in the clouds as it were, I felt a deep connection to the bones of bedrock below me. Maybe that’s what the Hindu and Buddhist practitioners mean when they speak of Nirvana. I wish there was a way where I could give even a glimmer of that feeling to you, treasured readers, but this broadcast is a poor medium for such a thing, even if such a concept wasn’t so heavily subjective in the first place. In a way, this whole trip has been like that, as far as giving me a far different perspective and context with which to view life and the living of it, but not in such a mind blowing way as I experienced today.

Hannibal being coy.

OK. I’m done babbling now. Thank you for bearing with me. Edison will be taking a hiatus from the broadcast this evening, so that he might better work on recovering. Tomorrow will bring us towards Colorado and Nebraska (somehow we ended up missing Wyoming. I think it’s because, ready for this folks, we went through Idaho). I’m going to strive to be up and put together enough to see some more stuff in Arches before we go, while Edison sleeps in. Cross your fingers for me, readers, because I very much want to experience as much of the park as I can before we depart. And on that note, I need a shower and then some sleep. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

The last arch of the day was one made of clouds.

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Arches Redux; How Many Mountains Before You Can No Longer Shake A Stick At Them?; Edison: Now A Zombie?; Beginning The Return Journey East

A note concerning tangents: (XI)

2010-07-30T07:50:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Moab, UT (pop~5,100)

(N38°33.906’, W109°33.023’, elev: 4056 feet)

Distance traveled this leg: 660.9 miles (Booyah!)

Total Distance traveled: 3959.0 miles

Expedition Outlook: Which way to the Thunderdome?

Worst State in the Union: Neck and neck between Idaho and Connecticut

Providence has shone upon the expedition, glorious readers! Eloise rejoined us this morning having recovered from her case of the vapors. In the spirit of good cheer she promptly tried to navigate us into a hazard. It’s good to have you back, Eloise.

Three layers of terrain here. A sampler platter
of geography if you will.

Not a lot to report on the day’s activities. We successfully implemented our 600 mile blitz to Moab and the only thing we hit was a juvenile tumbleweed in Utah. We headed southeast out of Bozeman and Montana earned its title as the most gorgeous state we’ve traveled through with both authority and flair. Lush mountain passes, picturesque rivers, shimmering verdant valleys; these things were all common sights along the way. We were in considerably high spirits by time we hit Idaho.

It would be misleading to say that Idaho rained on our parade. Urinated on our parade would be a much more appropriate metaphor, but only if you added “and then set rabid, flaming bears to maul it.” We spent close to a half hour parked on the highway whilst the Idahoboan DPW conducted some sort arcane procedure whose purpose and effect was completely unknowable to those without sufficient brain damage to understand it. Our journey continued to be plagued by traffic as well as the highest fuel prices on our trip by at least a 20 cent margin. One might think that being so close to Montana the terrain would at least be wonderful. One would be thinking incorrectly. If one hadn’t been to Montana first, one might think the land around Idaho lovely, but having just come from Montana, we realized it to be a poor copy. More dwellings, more scrub, less majesty; even the roads were in poorer condition. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the gods had another go at Edison just before we managed to escape. They pulled another storm out of their celestial arses and battered us again with wind and rain. Perhaps they were attempting to mire us in Idaho, but who am I to try and divine the ineffable plans of insane deities? Irregardless of their agenda, Corona saw us safely through their tantrum and into the much more pleasant territory of Utah.

For the sake of completeness, here's some Idaho.

I’m willing to admit that I am basing my judgments on a very narrow window of experience and that that might not be fair to Idaho. Well it wasn’t fair of Idaho to pee on our parade and attack it with bears, either, so here’s a British workman’s salute for you, Idaho. In all honesty, things did improve the closer to Utah we got, and once the land began to take on its own unique character we even took some pictures of it. Ultimately though, Idaho will simply go down as “that irritating corridor between Montana and Utah.” at least for the purposes of this expedition, anyway. Perhaps a future trip will give Idaho a chance to redeem itself.

One of the more striking passes we went through in UT.

Utah was a pleasant antipode to Montana. Both states possessed sprawling plains, winding canyons, precarious passes, and looming mountains. However, where Montana was lush, Utah was more arid; where Montana was greens and browns, Utah was rusts and tans; where Montana had ranches, Utah had vast empty stretches. It was gorgeous in its own way and served to brighten our spirits back up. We missed out on the Salt Desert, as our course took us to the east of its environs. We did drive through Salt Lake City, though. Where a lot of eastern cities are tall, SLC was sprawling, much like other western cities such as LA. The highway travel throughout the city limits was typical of such travel anywhere else in the country. Once we got away and back into the mountains things became far more engaging. Soon after that night fell and blocked the land from our sight.

All in all it was a long trip, but very manageable. That we successfully negotiated it gives us confidence that if we need to execute further long hauls to get back on time we will be able to do so with panache and flair. Speaking of panache and flair, here’s Edison:

[Notes from Edison:

Was that a compliment? I think something must be wrong. Drink more water, you’re probably dehydrated.

Yeah, Idaho=Fail state. ‘Nuff said.

I have to say, not many people would be able to take this trip and not chew each others’ limbs off (like a harlequin shrimp) or their own (like a nervous squid) by the end. We can. Despite the steady picking ons, we are still in good cheer. Go Metal Clan.

Hannibal, too, is in good cheer. Perhaps his near-constant philandering and general foolings-about are his outlet for stress? Seems like a good system to me, at least.

Not much to say about today except that we won, it’s over, and we are much looking forward to tomorrow. Arches should be grand. We’re hoping the storm gods were left far enough behind that they won’t (literally) rain on our parade, but if they do we are probably dumb enough to head out anyway. We’re planning on a mix of hiking and driving, we’ll see how it works out.

As the wise man said; “Believe it or not I'm walking on air, I never thought I could feel so free, flying away on a wing and a prayer, who could it be? Believe it or not it's just me.” (Still have to watch that show again…)

That’s us, living the dream. Love and Peace, folks! Take care of each other out there.]

Yes folks this is in fact Hannibal. I know it's hard to tell
when he's not womanizing or being destructive.

A wonderful example of the opposite of panache and flair. Thank you once again, Edison, for your uncanny ability to provide a contrasting viewpoint to enhance understanding and provide a context. What is it they say? Without the darkness you'll never appreciate the light? Every zenith needs a nadir, and this expedition treasures you for your superlative ability to fill that role. (Hannibal just high fived me)

We have an unprecedented situation here, folks. We'll be spending two nights in Moab as we plan on enjoying Arches National Park until at least sundown tomorrow. We are striving with all of our might to capitalize on an early start. We may even get it right for once. Until next time, thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Had to hang out of Corona's sunroof to get this shot.

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Mornings Done The Metal Clan Way; Bring Some Extra Feet; Have Parasol, Will Travel; No More Idaho!

A note concerning tangents: (X)

2010-07-29T08:33:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Bozeman, MT (pop. ~27,500)

(N45°41.32’, W111°2.49’)

Distance Traveled on Leg 10: 341.8 miles

Total Distance Traveled: 3298.1

Expedition Outlook: Pleasantly Full

State with the tastiest overall cuisine thus far: Montana

We often felt as if we were about to drive into the sky.

Good news, concerned readers: We awoke in Terry with all of our internal organs still on the inside! (I guess you might already have known that since I sent a broadcast from Terry this morning when I awoke, but I didn’t think to say this then) We hit the road pretty quickly, stopped briefly in Miles City to get some food (super awesome barbecue, in case you were curious) and re-supply, then it was back to the road and the haul out to Bozeman. Having now had the opportunity to see Montana with the sun up, I can definitively say it is gorgeous country. North Dakota has more horizon and seemingly more farms, but Montana has a definite lead in the rugged department as well as seeming to trump ND on ranches. Most interesting though, is how the terrain changes as you go further west. Eastern Montana is flatter and has more of the badlands feel of western ND. As you go further west, things get more lush, trees become more abundant, grasses greener, etc. In addition, the hills get all sorts of riled up and start lunging about all over the place, and then you get some mountains. Real mountains, mind you, not that lightweight stuff they call mountains out in New England.

After being told he wasn't allowed to climb, Hannibal
promptly informed us that the rules don't apply to bears
and jumped all over Pompey's Pillar.

Hannibal was causing trouble amongst the Crew Bears and that necessitated a quick pullover so I could break up a fight between Blitz and Batman. Once that business was taken care of (including fishing Hannibal out of the cooler where he was stashed in an effort to get him to simmer down), the expedition voted to take an on foot excursion and explore nearby Pompey’s Pillar. “But isn’t Pompeii both misspelled and in Italy?” you might ask. Well we wondered that too. We discovered that the one in Montana has nothing to do with volcanoes and everything to do with graffiti. Lewis, of Lewis and Clark fame, hacked his name into a sandstone bluff during his eponymous expedition to chart the Missouri river. According to the visitor’s center, this mark is apparently the only physical indicator still extant that marks a site where Lewis and Clark actually passed through. This particular bluff must have been good for this sort of thing, because before Lewis got there, the Crow people had been scrawling all over it for decades, and after Lewis other folks got in the action. We saw some scrawls dating as far back at the 1820’s (Lewis tagged it in 1806). If we haven’t totally lost you to boredom yet, then I imagine you might wonder why it’s called Pompey’s Pillar. Lewis named it after Sacajawea’s son, whom he was quite fond of. Curiously enough, Sacajawea’s son was named Jean Baptiste Charbonneau and not Pompey. The visitor’s center wasn’t super clear on where the Pompey part came from beyond indicating that that’s what Lewis liked to call Jean Baptiste. With all of our questions as answered as they were going to get, we piled back into Corona and carried on to Bozeman.

Yes, folks, this basically came out of nowhere.

In a bold move Edison went sleeveless today and the gods responded to his taunt by ratcheting the sun up when we disembarked at Pompey’s Pillar. When that failed to boil him in his tracks, and with us having escaped Apollo’s fury by hiding within Corona, Zeus decided to try and kill us with another storm once we got to the Crazy Mountains (I’m totally not making those up). By time we noticed the smudge on the horizon it was too late, and soon poor Corona was rainlashed and shuddering in the gale force winds meant to punish Edison’s impertinence. It would appear that Bozeman was some sort of cosomolgical and meteorological home base, because no sooner did we cross the town limits than the storm backed down. By sunset the skies were clear as if it had never happened. I fear the gods will not be so easily foiled, so I’ll be having exit all buildings first for the next few days, because there is no way I’m taking a bolt of lightning meant for him.

Bozeman was recommended to the expedition by a co-worker of mine, Chris, and I’d like to thank him at this point for pointing it out, it’s a great town. I’d also like to thank his brother Steve, who is a resident, for telling us where the hot spots were in town. Though most of the shops had closed by time we got there, the eateries were still going in full swing, and based on Steve’s advice we hit up the Ale Works for a very tasty dinner. We unfortunately had to forgo dallying with the town’s night life, as we have a very ambitious course charted for tomorrow: We plan on doing the 600 plus mile drive to Arches National Park in Utah in a single day. It will be our longest and truest sprint to date. We’ll be cutting through Idaho and most of Utah to get there.

On the subject of the expedition status, I have both good and bad news to report. Best to start with the bad: We may have lost Eloise today. She’s been having problems keeping a charge and seemed to only operate reliably under constant power siphoned from Corona. In Miles City, she stopped operating even while plugged in. It is unlikely she will rejoin us before the expedition has been completed. Further attempts will be made on the morrow to resuscitate her things are not looking good. Tachikoma will have to step up and cover navigational duties for the remainder of the expedition if Eloise is truly lost.

He never was any good at hiding those smug expressions.

On the brighter side of things, people actually talked to Edison today when I was not present and Hannibal was otherwise incapacitated (read: drunk). As if that wasn’t surprising enough, he actually engaged them in conversation back. There is hope yet that he’ll be able to defeat his critical case of misanthropy. Now if only we could do something about his hair…

It was not only a good day for Edison, but for Hannibal as well. After two days of failure, he finally managed to finally exert his charm once again. We're hoping this will get him to settle down a bit, or at the very least stop messing around with the Crew Bears. At this point the expedition would like to thank Tana and Jamie for putting up with our ridiculousness and humoring Hannibal. You are both delightful and we’re glad to have made you a part of our adventure.

He really is incorrigible.

In a strange coincidence, Edison has similar sentiments he would like to express, so without further adieu:

[Notes from Edison: Let me take time to say hi to all of the people who have joined us to read this blog about our adventures, especially those who we have sufficiently interested during the trip by our Hannibal-related activities that you are now reading our story despite knowing pretty much nothing about us. Here’s a little bit to fill you in on some or all of our pasts.

Two of us are Humans.

Three of us are capable of moving ourselves under the right conditions.

One of us has met and shaken the hand of Trace Adkins.

One of us graduated from college with a degree in English.

One of us took the classes to become a police officer, but never went on to join a precinct.

Several of us are almost universally recognized (by women) as total cuties.

One of us is the production manager for a school’s theater program.

One of us works as a lighting technician on movies and tv shows.

All of us have lived in Massachusetts for many years.

Some of us have lived in California, New Jersey, New York, and Maine as well.

One of us had his heart installed by a friend of ours.

Some of us are in love, by one definition or another.

One of us drinks very rarely, two of us drink like fish.

We are variously Portugese, Saxon, Armenian, German, Japanese, American, and Teddy Bear.

One of us has an incurable (but not fatal) disease.

One of us has issues with rust. (but don’t tell anyone.)

Most of us really do not care what people think of us.

(and finally) All of us are happy that people are interested in our trip. We’re having a great time!

“I don't bother chasing mice around, I slink down the alley looking for a fight; howlin' to the moonlight on a hot summer night. Singin' the blues while the lady cats cry, wild stray cat you're a rebel gone guy. I wish I could be as carefree and wild, but I got cat class and I got cat style.”

On a more somber note than I normally take in here: Some friends of mine are having a really tough time right now. One of our most awesome is in the hospital and one is no longer around. If you have any spare good thoughts, please send them on to them and to the people who are trying to help. Love and Peace, folks. Be good to each other out there.]

As is always the unfortunate case, the morning hour grows rapidly nearer and we have a big day ahead of us. We have reached the zenith of our westward travel, no longer into the setting sun shall our travels take us, but rather to the south... like the wintering birds… (hmmm, I suppose that will have to do). Yes, much like the birds seeking warming climes and a vibrant escape from the winter’s cold grasp, we too will travel ever southward, seeking adventure and liveliness. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: One Day, Three States; Did Somebody Mention Potatoes?; NaCl H2O City; Have They Finally Learned To Defeat The Morning?

A note concerning tangents: (IX)

2010-07-28T18:04:00.001+01:00

Current Location: Terry, MT (pop.~600)
(N46°47.556', W105°18.714', elev: 2267 feet)
Distance traveled on leg 9: 508.4 miles
Total Distance Traveled: 2,956.3 miles
Expedition Outlook: Bamboozled.
Number of Photos Taken Thus Far: 919

Alas, patient readers, it would seem our wild lifestyle has finally caught up to us. No sooner did we get to our lodging then we were unconscious like a pair of poleaxed hippos. I would like to think it's because we were tired, but based on the demeanor of this place, it would not come as a surprise to learn that knockout gas was pumped into our room so that despicable things could be done to our vulnerable, unconscious bodies. Everything seems in order, so I'm going to go with the former, if for no other reason than to protect what shreds of sanity I still possess.

Dragons are good for keeping away evil spirits...
And the old gods you have just forsaken.

In the AM we returned to Moorhead, MN to visit the Hjemkost Center, a site devoted to maintaining the ties and roots of Scandinavian heritage in the region. The facility focuses around a replica Stave Church (a type of wooden church built by the vikings after their conversion to Catholicism) and the Hjemkost, a 75 foot Viking longship built by native Minnesotan Robert Asp in the 80's and sailed by his children across the Atlantic to Norway and back. The Hjemkost was built as a working replica of a preserved vessel found within a burial mound in Norway. Both the church and the ship were amazing pieces of craftsmanship, and the fact the Hjemkost was not only seaworthy, but capable of making a transatlantic voyage was nothing short of inspiring.

There was a lot of this.

After leaving Moorhead we drove across the entire width of North Dakota. Whatever money they saved on not buying hills they spent on purchasing excess amounts of sky. The landscape was picturesque and we could see for miles in every direction. We made a few stops along the way: Bismark to refuel, and New Salem and Regent to collect photographic evidence of big people. Of note is Sue, the 25' holstein cow perched atop the only hill in miles. We discovered sue as we were driving west on 94 and I turned to Edison and asked "Is that a giant Ox on top of the hill or just a building or a sign?" We were about 2 miles away at this point.

Ladies and gentlemen: Sue.

We quickly determined that it was in fact a cow and immediately altered our course to go visit her. Beyond Sue we discovered the so called Enchanted Highway, a stretch of road running perpendicular to 94 whose sole purpose appears to be farm access and a means of getting to Regent. Built along the course of this road are absurdly tall metal sculptures including grasshoppers as diners and a massive Teddy Roosevelt riding horseback. It would appear that building large statues of a ridiculous nature is a something of a North Dakotan pastime.

Our last sight in ND before losing daylight entirely and crossing into MT were the Painted Canyons of the Badlands. Regrettably, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and the canyons themselves were muted. The land itself was pretty breathtaking, even if we did miss out on the color portion of the festivities.

We pushed on through to the relative metropolis of Glendive, MT where we were rebuked from our lodging of choice and referred to another hotel 40 miles away in Terry. The inn in Glendive was a nice, pleasant looking modern facility. The place we were referred to was not in fact an affiliate. It is likely a registered historic structure. It is the expedition's belief that we have been had by the young ladies at the hotel in Glendive. No matter, we are at least 40 miles further along.

Edison, anything to add?

[Notes from Edison: Zzzzzzzzzz]

No big surprise there, folks. In fact, I too fell asleep in the midst of drafting this broadcast and am just now finishing it on the morning after. It is time once again to commune with the road. Thank you for your patience, America, and have a good day. This is the Nickness, signing off:

A fitting icon to the spirit of journey, we feel.

Thanks for tuning in! On our next episode: Big Sky, Big Fun?; Punctuality, Can We Find It?; Will Hannibal Finally Beat His Dry Spell?; In Search Of Local Delicacies

A note concerning tangents: (VIII)

2010-07-27T09:27:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Fargo, ND (pop-95,600)
(N46°52.757', W096°47.017', elev: 822 feet)
Total distance traveled during Leg 8: 352.7 miles
Total distance traveled: 2447.9 miles
Expedition Outlook: Destiny Manifest
Number of times we have entered a state for the first time to immediately discover that its major roads are not only under construction, but under construction in such a way that it actively proves to be a hinderance: 6
*Bonus Statistic*: Number of States we have entered for the first time: 7(not including NY or PA which we have been to many times, nor taking into account states Edison visited with his family when he was a small child back in the late Cretaceous)

Well, I suppose these sorts of things will be inevitable, but today was largely a day spent in transit. "But if you spent the day driving, why did you travel less than on the day where you had a five hour awesome town excursion at the House on the Rock?" is what I'm certain you're asking. Well, inquisitive readers, I have an answer for you: Because we still don't have the hang of mornings. In principle we understand that the sun will rise and then so should we a few hours after that, but in practice I wage war against three separate alarm clocks and by time I finally lose, I have just enough time to trick Edison into waking up so we can quit ourselves of the building by check out time. With time, I think, we'll get the hang of it.

What do you suppose they sell?

Once on the move we briefly explored what Ashland's main street had to offer. We broke our fast at a local cafe (And they actually knew how to cook an omelette so that it wasn't a watery mess. I wish they offered a correspondence course that some of the short order cooks in the Valley could subscribe to.) as well as took care of some basic errands. On the way we discovered Ashland's one stop vice shop(not the shop in the above photo): A disarming, flip flops and knick-knacks style tourist trap mien loomed at us from the storefront. Poking our heads in we discovered the usual kitschy t-shirts and hemp bracelets and incense and glass bric-a-brac that you would expect to find in such a place. Vaguely screened by a beaded curtain was the other two thirds of the store: head-shop and sex store. A bit disorienting, but the proprietors were very friendly.

Great Lakes Achievement: Complete!

On the outskirts of town we found Maslowski Beach and touched the waters of the fifth and final Great Lake, Lake Superior. I provided appropriate musical accompaniment and we did the level up dance on its shores. Our celebration would have been premature if not for the watchful eyes of Corona and Hannibal. As it turns out, the Batlabians were waiting for us at Superior and were prepared to unleash an ambush. While they may have anticipated our path, they did not account for either Hannibal's kung-fu or Corona's crushing wheels, and fell victim. I believe Edison and I were blissfully searching for interesting driftwood at the time. None the wiser (It wasn't until Akeley that Hannibal had revealed what had occurred), we departed Superior and set our course for MN.

That second floor is a lounge.

Our first stop was a gas station designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. We figured if we couldn't see his mansion, we could see a service station he designed. Practically the same thing right? The station was quirkily intriguing, but in the end, it was just a gas station so we moved on. En route to Akeley, MN, our next objective, was the Mississippi River. This far north it's a rather pleasant river and not the primal force that rampages around through the souther states. Touching its waters unlocked another secret achievement for us. After a round of back slapping and the handing out of egregious compliments, we resumed our travels.

I can't think of a time when this should ever be OK.

Our goal in Akeley was a Paul Bunyan statue that we were thoroughly convinced would be an excellent specimen of Big People. And boy was he ever. I suspect that his crazed glassy stare was not that way simply because his eyes are likely made of glass, but rather for deeper and far more unsettling reasons. (For instance, it could have been given a parody of life at one point, a parody built upon the stolen hearts and tears of orphan children.) Hannibal swears up and down (typically he swears from side to side, so we could tell something was up) that he was touched in an inappropriate fashion when we had him pose with the Bunyan. As if Paul wasn't enough, we also found 'Hooch Lake.' Named after, one would imagine, the creepy Big People fiend sunning herself in a nearby stagnant pond. I'm going to refrain from posting a picture of her, A) because they are not OK, and B) because I think the internet police might revoke my privileges if I do so. Anyone who is really interested (both in seeing a picture and in raising my suspicions about their mental health as a result of asking to see it) is welcome to contact me with a request.

Once I was able to get Edison to stop rocking back and forth and get into the vehicle, we charted a course for Moorhead, MN. Why Moorhead? We needed to cross into ND at some point, and once we discovered that Moorhead had a Viking heritage museum we stopped looking and started driving. As it turns out Moorhead is just across a river from Fargo, ND; the two cities exist as a single metropolitan unit. We took our dinner in Fargo, and conveniently enough, found lodging minutes away from the museum, so it will be a short and easy commute in the morning.

You'd think he'd be a little more discrete.

Our excursions may have been tame (so to speak), but expedition drama continues to simmer. We are pretty sure Eloise tried to navigate us into a river today. We foiled her, but we are rapidly getting to the point where we will begin questioning all courses she offers us.

This is the first day of the trip since NY that Hannibal was unable to seduce any women. We caught him canoodling with Batman (actually a female bear, despite what her name might imply) despite rules about interexpedition shennanigans of that nature. It was bad enough when he was just flirting with Blitz. Mark my words, this is going to become a problem if it continues as is. Speaking of which, I need to go check on the Crew Bear gals. I'll be turning the con over to Edison in the meantime:

[Notes from Edison:
What is the bear equivalent of manwhore? I don't know that it comes up all that often... I can't believe I actually typed that. Anyway: On to the sadistic, the surreal, and the stylish.
Sadistic goes to whoever set up Hooch Lake. Not only was that floating harridan a scary sight, (I actually refused to get out of the car when His Nickness went to take pictures, I am not making this up) but there was a whole town of store fronts in this fictitious town, each with a listed proprietor and such, all very 'tongue-in-cheek' on the surface, but rather more 'tongue-protruding-from-below-fixed-glare-of-psychopath' when you took it in as a whole. I won't even begin to describe the sights I saw from the car. Go yourself if you dare.
The surreal goes to the police officer who was talking about getting drunk and throwing up on himself in a loud Jeremiah-ish voice at the table behind us at dinner. Seriously, dude. (It would have gone to the gift/sex shop, but I think that was covered sufficiently: Gifts.. gifts... gifts.. porn.WHOA!)
The stylish goes to Christine, the counter girl at our hotel, dressed in a lovely ensemble that emphasized her elegance and professionalism. As opposed to her demeanor, which emphasized how much she did not care that we were there and very clearly said that she wanted us the hell away from her nice clean lobby. Bravo. So far we have met three female employees in North Dakota; one, at the movie theater, was very pleasant. The other two were surly bitches. Not a good ratio. We will be leaving this state quickly.
I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce some members of our expedition for those who aren't familiar with myself and the Nickness. I'm aware that we might have been better off doing this long before now. We are not conventional people. You will learn this if you haven't already.
First of all His Nickness and I (Edison) are the most mobile and conversational of the group.
In addition we have a number of less animate assistants. First of all is Hannibal, of the teddy bear persuasion. Also of the slightly loose morals persuasion.
Our navigator is Eloise, of the Garmin clan, who as we have discussed, may be trying to kill us.
Our faithful steed and watcher of our belongings is Corona, descendant of a long line of Hondas. She has been nothing but delightful and helpful in everything we do.
Tachikoma and Charybdis, iFolk of different families, provide us with tunes both soothing and humorous to keep us awake and on task. Tachikoma also takes calls for my associate.
Jameson (Mac-something or other, probably scottish) is our technical advisor and serves as the point of origin for these broadcasts.
Finally Blitz, Batman, and Paliachi, the Crew Bears, (of a strange mini-teddy bear variant) are along for the ride kind of like hoboes hitch on trains, but without the smell or the danger. They have been pleasant, if not very active, riding partners.

For now: "I've been trying for hours just to think of what exactly to say, I thought I'd leave you with a letter or fiery speech, Like when an actor makes an exit at the end of a play, Running silent and deep, And all the things that can never be said, Why don't you look at me and read 'em and weep, Come on and look at me and read 'em and weep." You said it, Barry.
Ka kite anoo, and tofa... Are we the dreamers, or the dream?]

Thank you, Edison, for that alarmingly clear and stable contribution. I'm sure our readers will thank you for the role call as well. The Crew Bears have settled in for the night, fair readers, and we should probably follow suit. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

I bet you thought we were making this part up.

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Vikings!; Unicorns?; New Mission Orders; Wrath Of The Gods Redux

A note concerning tangents: (VII)

2010-07-26T09:42:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Ashland, WI (pop ~16,300)
(N46°34.907', W090°54.820, elev: 490 feet)
Distance Traveled on Leg 7: 359.0 miles
Total Distance Traveled: 2095.2 miles
Expedition Outlook: That was at least twice as crazy as you might think.
Number of clowns that is too many: 1

We are losing our battle with mornings. In a way, though, it simplified things. We had two potential destinations for the day, but it was very unlikely that we’d be able to visit both of them. As it turns out, it would have been a false hope to think we could have done both, so waking up when we did removed that from the equation and prevented us from potentially rushing to get both things in. On the table were the House on the Rock, an insane house, and Taliesin, the spring estate of architect Frank Lloyd Wright. I’ve always been a fan of Wright’s and was looking forward to seeing his home, but the sheer potential for spectacle at the House on the Rock was too much to pass up on. It is a choice I do not regret, nor does any other member of the expedition.

This is a fair representation of the insanity in the Mill.

This garden is very disarming.

Faithful Readers, I didn’t think it would be possible for me to encounter an experience harder to describe than Frankenmuth. I was mistaken. The House on the Rock in Spring Green, WI is one of the coolest places I have ever been in my entire life. I fear it will be almost impossible to share this place with you via this broadcast. I will try my best, and we were able to acquire some decent photos despite the difficult native conditions, but I must preface this by saying that nothing I vouch here can hold a candle to the visceral experience of visiting this place. The site is split roughly into four sections: The House on the Rock, the Gatehouse, the Mill, and an area I will dub the visitor’s center as it doesn’t really have an official name (at least not one that I was aware of).

Within the House on the Rock

Both the House on the Rock and the Gatehouse were habitats, although it would appear that neither was intended to serve as a a true living space, but rather as places for the friends and family of Alex Jordan (the architect and builder) to get together. They were designed as flowing, organic, functional spaces. They were built from the local limestone and timber and existed in a harmonious state with the land upon which they were constructed. Both were peaceful, calming and welcoming. As you may have inferred, one had to pass through the Gatehouse to get to the House on the Rock. The visitor center areas were a recent addition and were designed by a colleague of Jordan’s. They consist two pleasant gardens, a lobby area with a nice view of said gardens, and finally a true visitor’s center that showcase’s Jordan’s life, the construction and history of the House on the Rock complex, as well as some personal affects of Jordan’s.

Yesterday's Streets

Last, and certainly not least is the Mill. The Mill is insanity and dream built from stone and wood and steel and thusly made manifest in our world. The Mill seemed to be Jordan’s playground. He built it as a place to clothe his fertile imaginings. The entire building is a showcase. This is true in the simple sense in that it served as a place for him to store and show his eclectic collections of objects (everything from model ships, to doll houses, to antique pistols, to pipe organs, to carousels). And simple showcases would not do, no, Jordan built room like the Streets of Yesterday, a stylized town where each shop front housed one of his collections such as china, or clocks. The rooms were themed, and each more awe inspiring than the last.

The Blue Room, one of many music machines.

Perhaps the pinnacle attractions of the Mill were the music machines and the nautical wing that was Jordan’s last project before his death. First the music machines. Some of these were simple and worked on the same principle as music boxes, others more complex, such as player pianos. But then there were the music machines: vast constructs built into extended cabinets or into the very rooms themselves. The prime examples of these contained dozens of instruments, all of which were played by articulated armatures. Bellows powered wood and brass instruments, actuated arms took care of percussion, and player pianos and organs were in abundance.

Those tiny dots over the octopus are people.

As you progressed through the Mill, Jordan kept pulling out stops, and just when you thought he couldn’t go any further, he topped himself again. The culmination of this spirit was the centerpiece of the nautical wing, a massive sculpture well over 200 feet long and 30 feet tall of a fantastic whale battling a giant octopus in the midst of a storm lashed sea. It sounds simple enough in the text, but walking into that room was stunning to the point of paralysis. You stop, you gape, and your mind takes the briefest moment to make process what it is seeing. I am still in awe of it. Unfortunately for Jordan, he died just months before the project’s completion, but based on what we read of the man, I suspect he would have been proud of it.

That is a normal sized rowboat.

Hannibal was particularly boisterous within the compound and the furry diva demanded his photo be taken almost incessantly. And of course, despite being surrounded by wonder and majesty we found another type of gem in the lovely Jessica. Naturally, the irrepressible Hannibal wanted to meet her, and really who could blame him? Thank you for indulging us Jessica, you were very kind. Also, for what it’s worth, we think you work at one of the coolest places in the country. Our excursion lasted approximately five hours and it was so awesome that Edison and I exchanged a high five when we were done. Five hours wasn’t enough. I’m not sure five weeks would have been. If any of you find yourselves anywhere within three or four hours of Spring Green I strongly encourage you to go visit.

Oh, Hannibal.

To be fair the rest of the day and the more mundane affairs of the expedition are dull and muted in the wake of the House. We rode the tails of our wonder for hours after the fact. Even now we are still discussing things we saw in the House. We made a brief stop in Baraboo, WI to wash our clothes and take care of other sundries, then we set off on the long sprint to northern WI so that we could finish our quest and assay Lake Superior in the morning. I am pensive, and slightly exasperated and disappointed in my inability to articulate the House better. I will let things stew and allow Edison to have a go at it:

[Notes from Edison:

No, I'm not going to do any better. In fact, I'm not even going to try and explain the house itself. But, think of this: You wake up in the morning hungry for waffles, a hunger that will not abate. You drive many miles to find the perfect waffles to satisfy this hunger. You acquire said waffles, in the perfect amount, and top them with the perfect toppings in the perfect proportions. These waffles are not only going to be the tastiest things you have ever eaten, but they are also so heartbreakingly beautiful that it is nearly a crime to eat them. Finally, you finally pick up knife and fork to dig in. At this point Teddy Roosevelt, William Avery Bishop, and Han Solo walk into the waffle joint and hand you the best freaking pulled pork sandwich you have ever eaten in your entire life, which totally blows waffles out of the water. They then take you out to watch Liverpool kick the crap out of Manchester United, followed by backstage tickets at the Pantera 'Back From the Dead' reunion tour (with reanimated Dimebag Darrell) and chocolate shakes with the spirits of Einstein, Lao Tse (and his translator), and Nikola Tesla. This metaphor equates to roughly the first fifteen minutes of the tour, and doesn't come near to grasping the essence of seeing the whale/octopus war.

While I'm on the subject, I wanted to talk about hotel check-out times. You know, if I check into a hotel at 2am, I should NOT have to leave by 11am the next day. Am I not paying the same price as the guy that checked in at 4pm? Shouldn't there be some sort of pro-rating going on here? Jerks. These guys are all jerks.

Anyway, let me finish with a few closing thoughts: "DC, San Antone and the Liberty Town, Boston and Baton Rouge, Tulsa, Austin, Oklahoma City, Seattle, San Francisco, too. Everywhere there's music, real live music, bands with a million styles, but It's still that some old rock and roll music that really drives 'em wild. They say the heart of rock and roll is still beating, and from what I've seen I believe 'em. Now the old boy may be barely breathing, but the heart of rock and roll is still beating."

Houje, and dogladanje. My eyes pierce the Umbra!]

Edison's metaphor was apropos, although due to personal preference, you may need to swap out the celebrities to gain maximum mileage from it. This is just one of those things that you need to see in person to appreciate (When you go, take me with you, because I'd like to see it again). I fear this may be a semi-common occurrence over the course of this expedition, but we will press gamely on, readers dear, and hold you snugly in our hearts and heads as we go. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Great Lakes Achievement Completed!; Minnesota: What's In It?; Mansion, Gas Station, Who's counting?; Dissent In The Ranks!

A note concerning public service announcements

2010-07-26T07:54:00.000+01:00

Dear Readers,

While investigating some of my settings panes I noticed that the privacy settings on my comments section were ratcheted way up. I have adjusted that so that anyone may post comments, even folks without accounts. Sorry for any inconvenience that may have caused as we do like to hear from you!

Warmly
The Management

A note concerning tangents: (VI)

2010-07-25T09:58:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Madison, WI (pop. ~236,000)
(N43°08.374', W089°17.948, elev: 935 feet
Distance Traveled on Leg 5: 190.3 Miles
Total Distance Traveled: 1736.2 Miles
Expedition Outlook: Satisfied
Percentage of Cabs in Chicago that look like police cruisers: 95%

As of this evening, the expedition has reached its seventh state since departing MA. We can now add Wisconsin to the list of states in the Union that have been graced by our presence. Today was good, but extremely full. Edison and I are still struggling to combat our nocturnal tendencies (Hannibal isn't even bothering to try) and this did work against us to some extent today. While we did manage to set wheels to pavement more than hour ahead of our usual times, that was still an hour later than we wanted to depart. Complicating things was the hour and a half long commute into Chicago (It was only 39 miles, traffic was atrocious.) Ultimately this ate into our time at the Adler Planetarium, but such is the way of things.

Though rusty, I was forced to negotiate the Lesser Seal of the Ninth Gate in order to forestall divine wrath in the form of rain. Something that did not occur during the planning phases of the expedition was Edison's infamous animosity towards Divine beings. He already drew forth the wrath of Apollo while we were in Ohio, and I'm fairly certain the thunderstorm that fell out of the sky while we were driving to Paw Paw was Zeus going after him. To be safe, I targeted my negotiation at Poseidon today, and that seemed to do the trick, but I wonder just what further calamity will be drawn down upon the expedition simply by having Edison-the-Lightning-Rod on our roster.

Field Museum

Our first stop was the Field Museum, Chicago's natural history museum. It is home to Sue, the largest and most intact T-Rex skeleton in the world. It also boasts the standard plethora of flora, fauna, and geology exhibits, and an impressive collection of fossils. Sue was pretty cool, although I thought she'd be bigger. Turns out T-Rex's are only about the size of elephants (There happened to be some in the lobby that we could compare her to.) Curiously enough, despite some extremely cool and rare exhibit pieces, the thing that stands out to me the most was the Hall of Plants. Not because it was terribly interesting or engaging, but because it was, well it. Clearly the museum had some sort of adventure botanist in their employ at one point or another who compiled everything and put together the exhibits, and they even devoted a whole wing to it. What made it stand out was that I'd never encountered anything quite like it in scope or depth, and that includes fine institutions like Manhattan's Museum of Natural History and the Smithsonian. The presentation was sleek and lovely, and the exhibits detailed, but no one was there. I'd say it was as quiet as a tomb, except there happens to be an egyptian tomb on display at the moment, and that place was packed. The Hall of Plants has clearly been there for awhile and is definitely a permanent exhibit. We established that the only love it must get is when kids on field trips sneak off into it to neck. Bearing all of that in mind, I will dedicate this portion of the 'Log to the Hall of Plants and the adventure botanists that crafted it.

He never did mention a boat...

A point of curiosity: Hannibal jumped into a mysterious trunk in the Pacific Islander exhibit and Edison followed him in hot pursuit. They were both gone for about a half of an hour, during which time I challenged various stuffed animals to games of "I spy" (Suspiciously, most of what my opponents were spying turned out to be patron's brains. The game got to be very uncomfortable very quickly.). I found Edison under a bench near the member's lounge. His sun burn seemed inflamed and he was wearing a hat made of palm fronds (Which he subsequently ate one leaf at a time over the course of the next three hours. When queried he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about). He claimed to have found his way to an island in Micronesia and showed me photos to prove it. He also claimed to have been there for four days battling spacemen. I find this all to be quite suspect.

Your guess is as good as ours.

As for Hannibal, we found him riding a mechanical elk near the Hall of Animals shortly after Edison's return. He was covered in lipstick and smelled of cheap bourbon and cordite. Neither of us have any idea what happened or where he found the elk, and he refuses to talk about it, so it may very well remain a mystery.

Adler Planetarium

Due to our scheduling and traffic errors, once we sated ourselves on five or so hours at the Field Museum, we had very little time for the Adler Planetarium. We did a quick sprint through the grounds, checked out some exhibits on the moon and on telescopes (Edison subjected himself to cosmic ray bombardment. I'm not sure why, but knowing him it was probably some sort of "I'll fight my ultraviolet radiation burns with a different kind of radiation. It'll be like two sine waves canceling each other out." Except the way his brain has been working lately it probably went more like "Owie. Fire hurt! Ah ha! Different Fire hurt Fire and make go away! I am play God!") We finished our sprint by taking in a stars in the sky light show. Standard fare for a planetarium, except our guide to the solar system was a brilliant fellow named Pat who gave the best presentation of this type I had ever seen. He was informative and hilarious and witty, and it was a treat. If you're reading this, sir, thank you very very much.

Da Bean.

With only about two hours of daylight left, we ventured into Grant Park, then into Millennium Park to see the mysterious "Bean," (actually called the Cloud Gate) a sculpture mentioned to us by our lovely bartender on Kelley's Island. By this point in the day, the excursion team had about 3.5 cylinders and only one functionally handicapped hamster left for powering our mental faculties, so finding the Bean within the much larger Grant Park was embarrassingly more difficult than it should have been. Once we finally stumbled in, we were delighted to discover that Millenium Park turned out to contain much more than the Bean; there was a snazzy foot bridge, a gorgeous outdoor performance space, a fountain folks could play in, as well as some gardens and likely a few other features we were too addled to notice.

Hannibal you rogue.

The bright spot here was two lovely lasses named Jaime and Gabrielle. Like many before them, these fine gals fell prey to Hannibal's rakish charisma (Have no fear ladies, the only thing dirty about Hannibal is his mind). Not about to let serendipity slide through our fingers, we took the opportunity to engage them in conversation and get the local scoop on nearby eateries. Thank you again for your kindness and courteousness to a pair of strangers (emphasis on the strange, no doubt) so far from home.

Daylight was fading quicker than Edison's sanity, so we cut our chat short and set forth for our last stop, the SkyDeck at the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower. It was a hike: we were hungry, we discovered that everything apparently closes by 7 PM in this part of Chicago, and darkness was descending like a hood. After finally acquiring some chow, we drag ourselves to the SkyDeck to find that it is, and I hope you are holding on to your seats, dear readers, closed. "Why was it closed?" is what I'm sure you're anxiously asking your monitors. Grab on tight! It was closed 'due to high winds.' Winds. In Chicago. The Windy City. Who'd have thought? Not us, fair readers, nor did the two other pairs of visitors that arrived on the scene while we were still couched in incredulity. We six briefly formed an emotional bond of solidarity in united outrage and then went our separate ways. Somehow our winded neurons were able to guide us back to Corona and we set off north for Wisconsin. Edison is currently eyeing me like his former palm frond cap, so I'm going to let him broadcast his piece and then send him to bed:

[Notes from Edison:
Chicken Soup Cheese, a surprisingly tasty artifact from bounteous Frankenmuth (the Cheese Haus), is my companion for this writing. Please ignore the mumbling and chewing noises.
Today was an exercise in ... well, exercise. It turns out we walked for pretty much a full 12 hours. Thankful for comfy shoes I am. Also for having a job that keeps me on my feet all the time. Otherwise I would be a blistered mess right now. Well; my feet, in addition to my shoulder. Healing goes apace, no worries.
Chicago, it seems, is the Grizzle capitol of the world. Many inhabitants seem to be struck by this strange - disease? Genetic condition? No one seems to know. Whatever it is, it it evident everywhere, from the truckers to the shirtless bike riders to the older ladies frying themselves in the sun along the lake. It's presence is a gentle sussurus in the background, occasionally rising to ear-splitting levels when a particularly involved specimen wanders near. Sort of a "ggrriiiiizzzzzzlllle....ggrriiiiiizzzzzllle... grzgrriizz..griiiiGRIZZLEGRIZZLE!!!" Fortunately the grizzlers are easy to avoid, and seem to have no interest in, say, our juicy delicious brains. But I digress.
At the end of a long day of walking, with only a lonely bagel for sustenance so long ago, we set off for food at last. Not having made a decision as to where to go yet, we overhear a gentleman behind us mention Chipotle, a place with which I am quite familiar. 'Sounds good', we think, and head off. Turns out that except for one Mystery Chipotle that hides better than a speakeasy, all restaurants anywhere near the Willis (Sears) Tower close at like 6pm. WHAT THE UNHOLY BLINTZ IS THAT!? I disapprove of this, greatly.
Let me say one thing further before I go off to shower and bed: "We were at a party, his ear lobe fell in the deep. Someone reached in and grabbed it, it was a rock lobster. Here comes a stingray; there goes a manta-ray; in walked a jelly fish; there goes a dogfish; chased by a catfish; in flew a sea robin; watch out for that piranha; there goes a narwhale... HERE COMES A BIKINI WHALE!"
Valete, and na shledanou. Our kung-fu is best!]

Thank the Fates I had the foresight to bring that cheese in, or I don't think I'd have been able to keep him focused and on task. Tomorrow's agenda promises a potentially heavy encounter rate with Big People, so I will need all my wits and faculties available. It is time to bid you farewell once again. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off.

Good night Chicago!

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Find Me Another Time Dilating Trunk!; How Do You Know It's Not Made Of People?; We Know Exactly Where That's Been; Ding!

A note concerning tangents: (V)

2010-07-24T08:05:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Arlington Heights, IL (pop. ~ 73,000)
(N42°08.301', W088°00.007', elev: 804 feet)
Distance traveled on leg 5: 165.8 miles
Total distance traveled: 1,545.9 miles
Expedition Outlook: Damp
Most Sadistic Arthropod: Harlequin Shrimp (hymenocera picta)

Greetings from the Windy City (or the near region at any rate)! Today we had our first taste of metropolitan exploration on the expedition. Because of our bad habits, the expedition once again got off to a late start, although while en route it occurred that we would be crossing into the central time zone and gaining an hour, so there was much rejoicing! This lasted for a bout a minute, and before Hannibal could bust out the champagne from the "Break in case of celebration" locker, I had realized that perhaps Eloise was taking time zone shifts into account on her ETA. Sure enough, this was the case, and was in fact the case on the preceding night, so when we thought we had gotten to within an hour of Chicago, we were in fact still close to two hours away. No matter, that bridge was already quite aflame and no amount of water passing under it would extinguish it.

Indiana went by without so much as a sign warning us it was coming, (before we knew it we were in Gary) and then without seeming to pass from Indiana to Illinois we ended up in Chicago. The only note of excitement occurred during a fuel stop, when, while attempting to extricate ourselves from the region, the local law enforcement swooped in, blockaded the vehicle behind us with cruisers, and lunged at it with guns drawn. Eloise is getting craftier in her insubordination.

Chicago as seen from Buckingham Fountain.

Shedd Aquarium, seen from the lake side.

Chicago will be a two part melody. We sampled its goods today, and liked it enough that we shall remain for another. We briefly explored Grant Park, but our main objective was the Shedd Aquarium. The Aquarium is located on a spear of land jutting out into the lake, along with the Adler Planetarium and the Field Museum. The layout was simple and elegant, the fauna diverse and engaging, and the architecture pleasing. Of note was the facility's apparent focus on education and the way in which many of the exhibits were targeted at younger patrons. Despite that, all expeditions members who were present had an enjoyable time.

Edison dubbed this the "pompadour fish."

Most major aquatic habitats were covered, and the facilities were large enough to accommodate a living coral reef, sea lions, beluga whales, and pacific white sided dolphins. We spent the better part of three and a half hours within. I got to see both river and sea otters and was so ecstatic to see them that I probably squeaked. Hannibal managed to get his paws on one of the staff, as well as dominate a penguin and a turtle (We didn't have the hear to tell him they were fake. Fortunately he can't be bothered to actually read this so we're in the clear.) And Edison, well Edison found another Big Person, this one masquerading as a fountain. I dread that he's beginning to commune with them. His behavior has been flagged.

Beyond the Shedd, we met with Lake Michigan at the 12th Street Beach, touched its waters and collected samples. We planned the next day's excursion at a local sandwich shop, and then made our way to our lodgings with the intent of getting and early start on the morrow. I of course, am still up, but did you expect any less? Edison is much more finicky, and it would be best to let him get his beauty sleep (I shudder at the thought of what he might look like without it), so I will turn the broadcast over to him at this juncture:

[Notes from Edison:
Oh, how the cruel barbs of your wit jab me.... but true, sir. On the other hand, your jest about the fountain was in poor taste. Many faults I have, but if I say something about sleeping with the fishes I assure you I am talking about death, not some crazed icthylogical fantasy. For shame.

As for the rest of you, you missed a day replete with wonder and adventure. From our aquarial expedition to the torrents which even now hammer our windows, our day was dominated by water. Even incipient dehydration played a role, causing many side trips to the abundant 'bubblers' scattered about Shedd's place. We touched our hands to the waters of Lake Michigan, for a near-complete survey of the Great Lakes, we watched as sharks swam below, next to, and over us in various habitats, and we hid in a tasty sandwich shop as mother nature attempted to chastise us for having too good a time.
On that matter, a quick hello to Linda for suggesting the Potbelly Sandwich Works as our afternoon meal-place. We approved!
As always, our options have evolved by the day, being prompted or denied by circumstance, mood, and the suggestions of our friends, families, and occasionally a chance-met stranger. (Although along THOSE lines; Lauren, that guy is an idiot... Drop him like a hot rock, and then change your locks and your number. Move back to Oregon, you'll be better off.) Working without a set schedule is sometimes a little more nerve-wracking, the freedom is amazing. We would have missed a lot of stuff already if we felt we had to be in certain places at certain times. Just sayin'.
And in closing let me give you a few words I heard our friend Hannibal humming under his breath as he watched the lasses play along the seashore: "Zwei drei vier one two three, it's easy to see, but it's not that I don't care so. 'Cause I hear it all the time, but they never let you know on the TV and the radio. She was young her heart was pure but every night night is bright she got, she said sugar is sweet, she come rappin' to the beat; Then I knew that she was hot."
Until tomorrow, farvael and ikus arte.]

The great deluge of yesterday does seem to be loitering in the region. Not a terrible matter, as most of our planned activities for Saturday are indoors, but we will get damp moving from place to place. Please excuse me as a I slip into a slightly more meta vibe, lovely readers. The 'Log as the expedition has come to refer to our nightly broadcast, is often a topic of conversation during the course of the day. We are constantly striving to provide a better piece of entertainment, so please let us know what it is you would like to see or hear more of (or less of) and we will do our best to accommodate you. Until next time friends. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off;

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Chicago, Chicago, That Toddling Town; Water Water Everywhere!; Sometimes It's A Faulty Plexiglass Floor And Not Pride That Cometh Before The Fall; In And Out Smooth as a Scalpel, Yet Leaving Our Mark Like A Jackhammer.

A note concerning tangents: (IV)

2010-07-23T09:00:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Paw Paw, MI (approx pop. 3300)

(N 42°12.455', W085°53.534', elev: 774 feet)

Distance traveled on leg 4: 359.2 miles

Total distance traveled: 1384.1 miles

Expedition Outlook: Anticipatory

Day 4: Still not king.

Hello dear readers. i sit before Jameson, the flashing cursor taunting me. I am struggling with the best way to describe the visceral and dynamic responses of today's adventure with you. Best to jump in with both feet and hope for the best I think.

When last we left our intrepid adventurers, they had bunked up in the Frankenmuth Motel. Frankenmuth, also known as Michigan's Little Bavaria, was an unexpected surprise. When we rolled into the town late Wednesday evening, we were shocked to discover buildings dripping with bright colors and a year's worth of fretting and tooling by a horde of hiccuping wood workers, fountains, covered bridges, establishments like Zehnder's (world famous for its family style chicken), the Schnitzelbank, the Fischer Platz, the Marv Herzog Hotel, strange churches and spires, odd looking industrial towers, even a river boat. We went off to sleep utterly flabbergasted by our unintentional discovery, and awoke determined to explore this new environ we found ourselves in.

We awoke, this time like civilized beings, in time to access the motel's free breakfast. When we emerged into the world, it was to reassure ourselves that our antics of the previous night were not some fever dream, but actual reality. We were not disappointed. Into town we headed, loaded for (and with, in the case of Hannibal) bear. Even the threat of rain could not mute the brightness of the architecture or the vibrant demeanor of the town. We bounced from shop to boutique to shop again. Even the people were friendly, a phenomenon we are not terribly used to as dwellers in the northeast. Hannibal was a whirlwind of debauchery, charming no less than five women in town. Janel, if you're reading this, Hannibal wanted me to let you know you were his favorite.

With daylight came some clarity, the eerily lit tower was part of the local brewery, for example, however it also revealed other curious things as well. An infestation of Big People, as we've come call them; Those strangely proportioned and charmingly grotesque sculptures of human like animals, cigar store Indians, and other curiosities. They loomed on buildings and corners, hid in nooks and spied down upon us from roofs. The phenomenon has struck such an intense chord within us that we are biding our time and gathering data with the intent of logging a treatise later on during the expedition.

Another curious note about fair Frankenmuth concerns its civil servants. The DPW staff responsible for the town's vast array of gardens an flora appears to be comprised entirely of comely young ladies in tiny shorts and chartreuse vests. Just another touch of unreality to cause us to wonder just where upon the knife edge of sanity and delusion we currently tread.

Our excursion in Frankenmuth did not end with downtown, fair readers, not by a long shot. No in order to reach that conclusion we needed to visit Bronner's CHRISTmas Wonderland. Sprawling over 150 yards, Bronner's is the largest Christmas specialty shop in the world. After crossing the threshold, there was no doubt as to where we stood on the line of sanity. I am at a loss to adequately describe this place. It is full of colors and lights and set up with a disorienting layout. It was actually very similar to a casino game floor in that regard. There was no attempt at subtlety, the store came at you with an air hammer between the eyes and the intent of gutting your wallet and hanging you from an ornamental hook.

And while we thought downtown was laden with Big People, it did not hold a yule candle to Bronner's. No circus sideshow was ever this in your face or bizarre. We stopped counting nativity scenes after we found over 12 in a single wing. We didn't even try counting Santa's or the creepy, freaky gremlins they called elves.

The photos we took do not provide the proper atmosphere, and for that I apologize. Though we spent only twenty minutes within its walls, that place will be lodged within the walls of our minds until we no longer walk the earth. We actually fled, as if pursued. Corona welcomed us with warmth, and Hannibal comforted poor Edison with a damp kerchief to his fevered brow. Shaken, but not broken, we planned out next stop.

For no reason other than to say we'd been, we charted a course for Bad Axe, MI. Yes dear readers, you are not mistaken. Bad Axe is a small town in the middle of a vast network of farms. It had a single main thoroughfare, a movie theater, a school, and little else. We were not expecting Frankenmuth, but deep down, I think we had built the place up to more than it was.

After no more than a brief struggle with Eloise, we set out to finally meet Lake Huron and continue on our quest. Thunderheads loomed ominously, chiding us. We found Port Austin and Lake Huron with little difficulty. The waterfront was under construction so we headed west until we could find a place to make lake fall. Unlike the majesty of Ontario, or the proliferation of visits to Erie, we encountered Huron on a small narrow stretch of beach and dune grass with no name. It was imply referred to as 'roadside park.' Huron had its own character, sure as its siblings did. Mayhap it was the weather, but it felt more sullen and dreary. It sported a vast shallow basin where we were at that reduced wave activity to functional nonexistence. The beach was closer to what someone from northeast coast would expect for an Atlantic Ocean shore: coarse, but not rough sand, shells, stones, and a jetsam of vegetation and wood. Edison honed his stone skipping skills whilst I explored. Once we were satisfied with Huron, we returned to Corona, held an expedition vote, and opted to back track a little and continue with the Chicago route.

The weather finished marshaling itself and came howling and screaming at our heels, chasing us south through the state. With each gnash of its teeth, lighting arced over head. Running on the edge of the storm was exhilarating. However, when we changed directions and began moving west, the storm caught us. For all that we could see what was going on, we may as well have been underwater. I'm almost certain Noah passed us and flashed a grin and a rude gesture as his ark sailed by. Though tedious, we made steady progress, and finally alighted here at Paw Paw, within an hour of Chicago and the next leg of the expedition.

Edison was fairly bubbling today, so I apologize in advance for whatever it is he is about to set upon you;

[Notes from Edison:

Bubbling. Hah! I scoff. My ebullience is merely the product of short nights and long days over the course of a few days. And no sane person visiting the spectacle that is Frankenmuth could walk away unchanged. An apocalyptic precursor of the end days, or a pleasant stay in a foreign hostel? Who can say.

Say one thing for the deluge, I believe we have lost our Batlabian pursuers for good. As well, the zombies from the farm are probably so waterlogged that it will take them weeks to unbloat and follow us again. On the other hand, the Big People are becoming a serious issue. They seem to have preceded us and set up ambushes should we grow unwary. Fortunately, our wills are strong, and our senses alert. Perhaps preternaturally.

We argued many courses for the next day, a pleasant fellow in a jewelry shop suggesting a more northern route through Mackinaw, while my pater- and materfamilias voted for southerly views near Madison. We have followed that advice, and tomorrow will go to see an extremely strange grouping of architecture if all goes well.

I leave you with this: In the time of the Roman Empire, when Julius Caesar was determining whether or not to revolt against his increasingly erratic 'superiors', Caesar had to cross the Rubicon river, which divided his territory from central Rome. He supposedly hesitated at that crossing to ponder his options, and finally said to his closest aide 'Alea iacta est' and continued on to take control of the empire. In english that was 'The die is already cast.'

For ourselves, and our trip; 'dovi'andi se tovya sagain'. Now it's time to roll the dice, or in the words of the prophet, "So get out there and rock, and roll the bones!."

Bongiorno, and bon chance.]

I feel as if we are playing some sort game of catch as catch can with the sun: We chase it west below the world and it rises again in the east to chase us off to sleep. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: What, Is It Morning Already?, Paging Harry Dresden, The Evolution Of A Plan, Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking, Pinky?

A note concerning tangents: (III) pt. 2: the pictures

2010-07-23T06:34:00.000+01:00

The blog software is being extraordinarily uncooperative. Instead of attempting to inject photos I will just post them separately here. Enjoy!

Entrance to the Arboretum proper.

Mentioned pond feature.

Detail of mentioned rose garden.

Glacial Grooves on Kelley's Island

Hannibal the Lech

A note concerning tangents: (III)

2010-07-22T08:17:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Frankenmuth (http://www.frankenmuth.org/), MI, pop. approx. 4500
(N43°19.143', W083°44.130', Elev: 647')
Distance Traveled on Leg 3: 262.3 miles
Total Distance Traveled: 1024.9
Expedition Outlook: Incredulous

Our expedition's current point of harbor has left us stuttering and breathless. But I get ahead of myself, we'll get to Frankenmuth soon enough. I have observed that we are no better than our lesser primate cousins if we fail to use the tools that are our greatest hallmark. Despite having access to at least 5 different alarms, we availed ourselves of none of them and the expedition got to a later start than intended. Ultimately this had little impact on our agenda, and I believe that the extra rest did us some good. While I unshackled and prepared Corona, Edison and Hannibal scouted for Batlabian riders. The coast, for the moment, was clear. The same could not be said of the sky, which was overcast. A good day, we felt, considering the current animosity betwixt Edison and the sun. It would seem that my companion's demeanor was too gentle for Apollo's passionate caresses and he awoke with arms, shoulders, and neck an inflamed ruin from their fiery affair. He managed to avoid Helios's advances by demurely covering what he so brazenly flaunted the day before. My Iberian Heat has thus far proven to be a match to Sol's nuclear radiance, as I have only received a challenging stare and begrudgingly respectful nod.

You may wonder about the relevance of the digression, but it was an important consideration for the expedition as we planned on spending the day out of doors. Our first stop, the Schedel Arboretum and Gardens in Elmore. The grounds were well kept, the staff friendly, and the scenery gorgeous in every aspect of the term. A wide variety of plant life was kept and we spent the better part of two hours exploring and taking in the sights and smells. The gardens were also abundant with statuary as well as teeming with fauna. Of particular note were the Japanese style gardens, the impressive ponds and streams, and the rose garden. The arboretum would prove to be the tamest part of our day.

Upon returning to Corona we consulted both Eloise and our Paper Bound Oracle (for purported guide books they have all of the reliability of a Magic 8 ball when it comes to trying to locate something one swears he saw just the other day somewhere near the entry for "Euclid" [home of the National Cleveland Style Polka Hall of Fame]) and after some deliberation, not to mention repeatedly refusing to furnish Hannibal with a chicken so he could conduct a soothsaying, we decided to pursue our original plan and visit Kelley's Island. Our 8-Ball Oracle noted two ferry ports but failed to mention that the closer port at Port Clinton did not go directly, instead stopping at Put-In Bay (Although some truth has been harmed in the making of these broadcasts, I am not making that location up) where you could then take another ferry. After a brief talk about the possibilities of Put-In Bay and the cave system (of course) that was available for exploration, we stayed the course and jaunted over to Marblehead where after some confusion as to whether or not we could take our car we finally boated over to Kelley's Island (as it turns out the major means of conveyance on the island is golf cart, which we could have rented, although in retrospect it was just as nice to bring Corona along).

While not what we expected, the island turned out to be worthwhile for different reasons. The ferry ride out was delightful. The island itself is the largest of the Lake Erie islands, measuring in at about 3 miles by 5 and is circumscribed by laconic beaches and limestone bluffs. The eastern side of the island seemed to be more ramshackle than the western half and downtown regions. We believe this to be because of the Zombie Farm hidden in the deep hedges and covering trees. Nothing quite lowers property values like zombies. The northern section is comprised largely of the Kelley's Island State Park and the VFW hall. The park was our main reason for wanting to visit and, somewhat ironically, we never actually set foot inside of it. The 8-Ball Oracle made it out to be a glacially massacred limestone field full of fossils, when in fact it appeared to be mostly footpaths and an old quarry. The main attraction, the glacial grooves (which did contain fossils), were neatly set off by themselves and ringed by a very municipal (in a penitentiary sort of way) chain link fence. Despite our inability to assay them, they were quite spectacular and worth the visit.

We took our lunch at a tavern (I had a delectable fried Erie Lake Perch sandwich) and befriended some of the locals. Cassanova Hannibal has a very different definition of 'befriend' than the rest of the expedition, but I save my commentary about that for later. We asked for advice while we were deliberating our next course, and it would appear that Michigan has very little going for it in the minds of staff of . To quote the chef "You could visit Detroit if you were interested in seeing the decline of civilization." (he is seriously not making this up. -ed.) Despite that ringing endorsement, we needed to press on into the Great Lakes State if we were to reach Huron. After a brief walk around downtown we returned to the mainland, garnered supplies and after significant deliberation chose a destination: Bay City, MI.

I will digress briefly to touch upon member news: At present, Edison glows in the dark. I believe his proclivity for wearing hats is the only thing that has protected his brain meats from boiling. Thus far nothing seems to have moved beyond acceptable margins, but he has begun to exhibit and unhealthy interest in nuclear power plants. If I awake one morning to find the Toxic Avenger has replaced my traveling companion I am uncertain what course I shall take. Fortunately, I do not think we will find Tromaville on any map.

Eloise was on better behavior for the better part of the day, although as evening came and went she decided to see how far she could push after we had been beset by fatigue.

And then there is Hannibal. He has taken to riding around in the Excursion bag, where he ogles, leers, and inappropriately grasps at the female form when he thinks no one is looking. He boasts an impressive polker face, however, and combined with his practiced mien of innocence most folks cannot perceive his true nature. Hannibal is ill equipped to deal with mornings (defined as any time before 3PM) and we were able to placate him by engaging his groggily vulnerable sophomoric nature by setting him loose on the statuary within the Schnedel gardens. As the day wore on and he regained his faculties he set forth on a carousing campaign that ensnared a mother and daughter on the ferry ride out to Kelley's Island as well as the bartender on said island but a few hours later. I refused to let him out of Corona for the return ferry trip. Thus far we have encountered no friction, but I am already preparing for the day where we might need to fend off a jealous lover, angry husband, or jilted paramour.

Returning my focus to the trip: The drive to MI was largely uneventful, despite Eloise's best attempts at sowing confusion and discord during a fuel stop. Due to time constraints we missed out on the visiting Bessie's (Lake Erie's very own loch ness monster) highway side kennel, a smoked meat and cheese emporium, and Unlimited Beef Jerky ("Not a gas station!" proclaimed the angry looking bull on the billboard) En route, upon a whim, Navigator Edison discovered a secret achievement and re-charted our course to the conveniently located Frankenmuth. Frankenmuth is... all I will say for now is that the town has ceased to be a stop over and has become a full fledged destination. Have no fear, you will receive an accounting in tomorrow's log, but the hour grows late, so I will briefly turn the con over to Edison before closing out this evening's transmission:

[Notes from Edison:
The Gardens were awesome. Great area, great staff (hard at work), and basically no other customers. Idyllic. Kelley's Island, also awesome, if you could ignore the rotting smell of old corpses and the shambling in the woods. I recited some lines from the necronomicon (good for what ails ya!) and we were fine.
What the sun-resistant bastard over there fails to mention is that we also passed a number of creepy movement-challenged big people along the way. And i'm not talking about the fatty contingent oozing around on their lawn mowers, but rather the tall and stilted folk with the fixed smiles and misshapen limbs, reaching for you from the side of the road like a dry bougainvillea twists stealthily towards the nearby lake. We saw them really big and merely enormous, humanoid and animorphic, mostly complete and crazily missing hands. They were a constant companion to our travels, a looming presence at our back, causing the shoulderblades to itch constantly, as if we had performed our impressionistic modern dance interpretation of childbirth in a poison ivy patch. They watched us with big, sad, and sometimes wildly gleaming eyes everywhere we went.
I believe they are in league with the Batlabians.
However, I have hope, for did not the oracle speak these words in a fit: "Hit me with your best shot! C'mon and hit me with your best shot... Hit me with your best shot! Fire Awaaaaaaay!"
We would all do well to live up to that sentiment.
For now; Arrive derci, bon voyage.]

I apologize for the lack of photography, dear viewers, but the internet here at the Frankenmuth Motel (not as scary as it sounds) is as elusive and whimsical as the focus of a well traveled hippie, and as a result it is a losing battle to attempt to upload the photos from Jameson to the log. I will seek a more grounded hot spot on the morrow and retroactively update the broadcast for your pleasure and edification. In the meantime, I wish you all well. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off;

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: Der Boom Boom Haus, Yes We Really Travelled All This Way For That Reason Alone, Si Quaeris Peninsulam Amoenam Circumspice, Indiana: As Cool As The Archaeologist For Which It Was Named?

A note concerning tangents: (II)

2010-07-21T07:15:00.000+01:00

Current Location: Oregon, OH (N41°38.179', W083°26.385', elev: 620ft)
Distance Traveled on Leg 2: 329.1 miles
Total Distance traveled: 762.6 miles

Inspired by the great hero Han Solo, we took shelter through the evening within our stalwart mount. Fortuitously, Corona has some significant advantages over a tauntaun: she is not full of stinking viscera and we did not have to damage her to make use of her as shelter. During my morning activities I noticed some ill omened writing on the wall: "Hope Fades." I did not let this portent dampen my spirits and in fact was hailed enthusiastically while brushing my teeth by a trucker engaging in the same activity.

Speaking of which, we saw our first female trucker today. She was old, and likely will be seeing the inside of a glue factory before too many summers, but it gave us hope that she must have come from somewhere. Alas, I digress. We set forth from NY making all haste towards Lake Erie. We quit ourselves of NY soon enough, and the brief bit of PA that we needed to cross passed quickly and inconsequentially, much like a bit of gas after a late night snack. On a more troubling note, Hannibal believes that we are being pursued by Batlabian outriders. We will soldier onward, keeping a wary eye over our shoulders.

No sooner did we gain OH than we found ourselves at Walnut Park with the great majesty of Lake Erie stretching out before us. Though Walnut Park itself was bleak and morose of character, resembling a post apocalyptic waste more than a recreational space, the lake was glorious. Unlike Ontario's silky sand, Erie's shores were comprised of a course gravel, and where Ontario lacked stone Erie had an abundance. Our ask completed, we explored the shore and then returned to the road.

We elected to eschew the highway and instead hopped along the coast, visiting small towns and beaches as we went: Ashtabula, Geneva-on-the-Lake, Fairport, the massive Headland beach, Paineville. It was pleasant to make our way casually without the press of time or import weigh upon our heads, although not all was idyllic. As if Batlabian outriders were not enough, we are concerned about the possibility of strife within our own ranks. Of note: our to this point faithful and diligent guide and navigator, Eloise, has begun to offer strange course headings and destination selections. It is almost as if she has her own agenda to follow and we are simply a means to an end. We are keeping our observations subtle, it would be unfortunate if we were to spook her.

A potentially larger problem is Hannibal's lecherous nature. It is only the second day and we've already had to go out of our way to indulge his vice. Edison swore to me this would not be a problem before we set out, and now here I am, already employing the most severe of my askance glances in his direction. As if his manipulation of the locals wasn't bad enough, Hannibal toys within our own ranks. Young Blitz has been swept up by his charisma and already her sisters grow jealous. Edison promises to personally handle an intervention should one become necessary.

Further dwelling will only dampen my spirit and by the very nature of these excursions we must look forward. Not all is bad, Edison and I continue to discover hidden achievements and are developing our own secret agenda. On the matter of public plans, as determined by a party vote, the expedition will remain in OH for another day. We will postpone our current mission and leave Huron for the day afte the morrow in lieu of exploring some sites in the western part of the state.

In what will likely become a tradition, Edison would like to babble for a bit before I conclude the broadcast:

[Notes from Edison: The Ecstasy of Hannibal’s wild ride, the Agony of dermal irradiation. It evens out.

Tomorrow we test the tropes of the tropics, a tragic tempest of tortured tickles as the triage turns to each teasing topical ointment.

When last I knew I was the master, now I am but the learner - to the normally retiring third of our little team. But will Hannah rue evermore her choices in the morning; her love-wracked heart spurned by a callous cad wreathed in an ursine skin? Time will tell.

The wonders of the bed are not to be denied, but unlike a certain ‘animal’ I know, it is to shower and sleep I go.

Take heart, true believers… all is darkest before the dawn. For did not the prophet once utter these words: “I didn’t even have to use my AK… yeah, you know it was a good day.”?

True that.

Adieu, dosvidania.]

Orpheus calls, dear listeners. As the mythic gunslingers of old, we will travel ever forward into the direction of the setting sun. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off.

Thank you for tuning in! On our next episode: The Wrath of Apollo, Ancient Island Adventures, Temptation in the Garden?, When Last I Checked We Had These Thumbs For A Reason.

A note concerning tangents: (I)

2010-07-20T06:22:00.000+01:00

We interrupt your irregularly scheduled fiction to bring you this special documentary coverage of our author's expeditionary antics:

Current Location: Lancaster, NY (N 42°57.182', W078°36.148')
Distance Traveled: 398.0 Miles

Set out from Massachusetts today after acquiring my boon companions. For his Journey to the West Xuanzhang got Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing as well as a magic staff, a jug of fire, and a dragon to ride. I'll need to make due with Edison and Hannibal. Corona is as faithful a steed as ever. We left the Ring at the Shire and decided it wasn't worth it to go back to get it. No biggie, we didn't really want to go to Mt. Doom anyway, although I will admit to looking forward to riding the giant Eagle.

We received, via carrier pigeon, our first objective: Visit the shore of each Great Lake, touch its waters, and collect materials from the area. With that in mind we set forth for Lake Ontario. Our trip through western New York set Edison into a PTSD fugue where he thought he was in the Wetlands of the Eastern Kindgoms. He kept babbling about Murlocs and twitching. Hannibal relieved him of his duties as navigator.

En route we established that trucks are apparently operated solely by larger, older white males. We maintain that somewhere there is Mecca for attractive female truckers and one day we shall discover it during the annual wet T-shirt and wrestling competitions. A quest, perhaps, for another time.

Some 327 miles later we finally arrive at Ontario Beach Park and disembark. Hannibal remained with Corona to guard our gear while we went EVA.

We took full precautionary measures despite the harmless appearance of the area. It seemed our timing was impeccable, for we found trace evidence of the rare and deadly Legion Gull: its broad, multifarious tracks had disrupted large portions of the beach. Attempts at documenting them failed despite a noble attempt by Edison.

With the light waning, and our specimens acquired, we procured some local cuisine, and returned to the barren wastes of interstate 90. Our next destination is Lake Eerie. We plan on assaying its shores somewhere in Ohio.

[Notes from Edison:
Uncertain stares and uneasy looks accompanied our appearance. Perhaps the rugged self-reliance of we of the mountains is passe in the plains (and Wetlands) of the west. Still, further we shall go; and see if the libidinous vixens of the far blue can resist.
No strangers to the open road, our spirits still soar against the monotony only brushingly glimpsed in the past hours. No fear.
As the sage once said "Ah... Push it. Push it real good."
Adios, exeunt.]

I will leave you now with this photograph of breathtaking nature as seen from one of the fine scenic viewing stands of the Clarence Rest Station. Thank you, America, and good night. This is the Nickness, signing off:

Thank you for tuning in, both long and first time readers! In our next episode: A Secret Plan Gestates, Ohio: Why Is There So Much Of It?, A Possible Love Interest For Hannibal?, and Thrilling Amusements!

A note concerning stringless puppets

2010-01-19T19:33:00.000+01:00

The slender young man took a step back and reviewed his work critically. He frowned at the stains on his shoes, indicative of a sloppy performance. Shadows crawled around the room, shying away from the swinging lamp overhead. Careful to avoid puddles, the boy picked his way across the room and stopped by one of the still figures on the floor. He picked up the woman’s severed head and stared into its face. A curious finger explored the empty eye-socket. Sighing, he let it roll out of his hands. The great wound in the chest cavity of her nearby corpse gaped like a perversion of a mouth. He rolled forward on his toes, and with a listlessness born of frustration, reached inside and fished his hand around. His features hardened and were twisted by a snarl. The young man hurled the body across the room, a surprising feat of strength. In the distance sirens could be heard. He headed for the door, but his attention was caught in a nearby mirror. His reflection reached forward and placed its bloody palm against his. They spoke. “I’m so like these creatures, made of the same parts, but they possess a spark that I lack. What is this thing? How can I get it? Father, for what purpose did you create me?” His beautiful face looked wooden in its grief. Pinocchio stared into the mirror and his reflection gazed back with eyes as glassy and lifeless as those of the people he had just slain.

A note concerning stand offs

2009-12-18T18:27:00.001+01:00

The Hatter was resplendent in his multi-faced, multi-armed avatar form. He displayed a serene, beatific expression as he swayed slightly back and forth. March Hare slouched against a pillar at his side. Across the bridge, the Huntsman stood amidst his pack of hounds; three hundred pound precision engineered monstrosities. The rent heart on his banner seemed to beat as it flapped in the breeze. “You’re outnumbered twenty to one! There’s no way you’re going to make it across the bridge. Turn around and go! There’s no need for a slaughter.” The Huntsman was incredulous.

“You are correct. Stand down and we will allow you to keep your lives” replied the Hatter.

“There are only two of you! Are you mad?”

March levered himself away from the pillar and scratched the back of his head. “No, not yet he isn’t. I’d just let us by if I were you. You wouldn’t like him when he’s mad.”

The Huntsman shook his head, “If you’re not going to go, then you leave me no choice but to engage you.” The hounds growled and stood poised and eager. He raised his cannon to his shoulder and fired a devastating bolt at the swaying Hatter. The blast blew him off his feet and enveloped him in a cloud of smoke and energy. March shook his head as the Hatter sprung upright, his faces rotating in a blur before settling on an expression of unquenchable fury. The Hunstman’s jaw dropped and the hounds began to howl.

“Now you’ve done it,” offered March as he rolled up his sleeves.

The Hatter charged up the bridge. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” he bellowed.

March drew a pair of gleaming, pearl inlaid pistols with a sigh, “I doubt you’ll guess the answer, and I don’t think you’ll like it very much even if you do.”

A note concerning mimsy

2009-12-17T19:08:00.000+01:00

White’s troops began to mount up on their bikes and trucks, led by her seven lieutenants. White herself had a gleaming, blue chrome machine. It was sleek and striking with its red enamel accents, ivory leather, and midnight black hardware.

“Hey, did anybody else hear that whuffling sound?” asked Sleazy.

White snugged her riding gloves onto her delicate hands and glanced over her shoulder at Alice. “What’s the matter, my dear? Nothing left in the motor pool? You can ride double with one of my men if you’d like. I think there’s room on Greasy’s bike.” Alice looked up at the sky and shaded her eyes with her hand. She smirked.

“Oh come on! I know you guys heard that burbling! It’s coming from the woods! How did you all miss that?” complained Sleazy.

White’s false smile was replaced by a real frown. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, girl.” A violent crash echoed from the woods, a fitting accompaniment to the explosion of splinters that used to be trees. In the gap a horrible creature was revealed. The beast was 15 feet high at the shoulder and covered in scales that looked like mossy stones. It flapped its membranous wings and roared, swamping the panicking troops with its fetid breath. Above its terrifying maw, where there should have been eyes, blazed two fire streaming pits.

“What the hell is that?” screamed Sleazy.

“My ride,” replied Alice with mimsy.

A note concerning role reversal

2009-12-16T21:11:00.000+01:00

Dashing kicked in the door, gallantly strode into the room, shouted “Don’t worry milady, I’ll save you!” and immediately slipped and fell on his face. That was not how it was supposed to go. Whatever he slipped in made a wet, sucking sound as he pried his face out of it. He noticed a couple of horrifying things as he rose to his knees and looked up: The reason he slipped was because the floor, the walls, and for that matter the ceiling, were covered in blood. Not just blood as it turns out, but all manner of body parts as well. A Cat with the most fiendish look he had ever seen was rolling around delightedly in a pile of viscera. Prince Dashing threw up. This definitely was not how it was supposed to go. He wiped his mouth off, realized his hand was covered in semi-clotted blood and almost threw up again. Light headed, Dashing slumped back on his heels and stared wide eyed across the room. A young woman was perched, quite demurely despite being spattered with gore, atop a pile of crates and weaponry. Her smile contrasted brightly against all of the blood.

“Excellent timing! I was just beginning to wonder how I was going to carry all of this loot out by myself,” remarked Alice.

A note concerning first impressions

2009-12-16T17:45:00.000+01:00

Cinder set the file down on the desk and leaned back to regard the applicant. White wasn’t impressed, this one wasn’t even royalty. She clicked her pen against her perfect teeth. “So what is it that you feel you can add to the cause?” She asked.

The young woman ran a hand through her short, spiked, blonde hair and rose. Cinder wasn’t sure if the room got smaller or the girl got bigger, but either way her presence filled the space. White whimpered. The applicant reached into the mirror hanging on the wall, toothy, feline grins glittering around her, and drew forth a notched, stained sword. It made a noise that Cinder would later describe as ‘snicker snack.’

“I can make it rather easy for folks to stand on their own heads, for starters,” Alice said crisply.

A note concerning Alexandra (Project: Lodestar 9)

2009-04-22T19:19:00.001+01:00

Alexandra relished the feeling of crossing the threshold. With the passing of time she has felt more and more a stranger in what she has come to think of as the material world. There she felt confined within a cage of flesh, but here her body was made from scintillating phosphorescence. No one was ever able to figure out just where it was that Alexandra went when she stepped through a mirror. In time she was able to bring others with her but unliving objects were never able to make the crossing. The scientists, bereft of their instruments and strangers to this place to which she seemed to be an integral part, were unable to collect data with which to feed their science and thus nothing conclusive was ever determined. Years later, Alexandra still didn’t know where it was that she went, but she didn’t really care anymore, because wherever it was, the place felt like home.

A vast snarl of luminescence pulsed in tangled masses for as far as she could see. To the best of Alexandra’s knowledge these shining skeins represented the ebb and flow of life and death. Right now it was a particular death she sought. She hefted her staff, here a great barbed spear, as she cast her perceptions along the strands. Her head snapped to the right, orienting like a weathercock in a strong wind and she hurled the spear. As it streaked away it became a winged serpent and she took off in its wake.

Soul, chi, anima, life force, whatever people wanted to call it, had an analogue in that place. The death of something was a physical event, something that she could observe, and even interact with. Always the spent life lingered, but never for very long. Alexandra hoped that she wouldn’t fail Cassandra the way she did Steven. If she could get there fast enough and gather up that spark before it faded, she fervently believed she could save her friend.

She set down beside a flaring pillar of scarlet light that could only be Amaranth. Cities were difficult to work in because of the sheer density of complex life crammed within them. With practiced ease she began to filter out the threads of the living. Once they were shut out she could detect faint greenish wisps. She gently stroked one. It felt like Cassandra, but something wasn’t right, there should have been more. She tried to refine her focus even further and as a result did not see the vibrant blue chains surging out of the darkness towards her.

In a blink she was ensnared, her body sizzled where it touched the restraints. An ephemeral figure the same color as the chains came in to view. “When I first devised this trap I never thought it would catch a fly so quickly,” it said sardonically.

Alexandra peered out from the constricting mass of links. “It would seem you’re not quite as dead as we thought.” She thought for a moment, “Did you fake Cassandra’s death?”

“Oh no, she’s quite dead,” said the image of Ansel as it approached her.

She could just barely make out a knot of greenish energy constrained within it. “You didn’t just kill her, did you? What else did you do?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” replied Ansel. His fingers sharpened into wicked points and his hands ignited in blue fire. The chains parted to reveal her torso. “Any last words?”

“I’m impressed. You picked up more than I thought. Not only are you able to project across the barrier but you can exert your power here as well,” Alexandra tensed against her restraints.

Ansel reached towards her, “It would seem that I made a better student than you a teacher, but it would be remiss of me not to thank you.” His fingers paused a fraction of an inch from her navel, “After all, I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you.” He plunged his hand into her body and frowned when he didn’t meet the resistance he expected. He grew even more concerned when he couldn’t pull his hand back out.

Alexandra shook her head. When she spoke her voice was icy, “You arrogant shit. Did you really think you could get the better of me in this of all places?” With a soft noise the chains exploded into a cloud of thousands of flower petals.

Scowling, Ansel leapt back, his arm separated from his body at the shoulder. He spoke calmly, “This is only a minor set back.” The severed arm distended and then disgorged a writhing organic mass of tendrils that quickly enveloped Alexandra. Ansel gathered the last few wisps of Cassandra’s life force in his remaining hand. “Good day Alex, until next time.”

Her voice was clear despite the overwhelming cocoon that had surrounded her, “Oh no, I’m not done with you yet!” Mouth open in a silent cry the winged serpent dropped from above like a lighting bolt, transmuted back into the great spear, and transfixed Ansel in place. Streamers of white energy coruscated from the wound. The cocoon withered and fell in great glittering flakes. “I can feel her on you. What did you do to her!”

“If you were in my place do you think you’d answer that question?”

“No, but if you were in mine there’s no end to the torture and atrocities you’d commit until you got your answer.” The spear pulsed. Ansel grimaced. His image was beginning to fray at the edges.

“I’ve always liked this dark side of yours. Keep this up and I may have to start calling you a tease.”

She grabbed him. His shoulder reacted like putty to her touch. “We’ll see how long you can keep up the smug remarks. I’ll get her back, Ansel, even if I have to shred your fucking soul in the process.”

His reply was shaky, “As much as I would like to see how far you’d go, I don’t think that’d be in my best interests.” Thick blue sparks exploded into Alexandra’s face and with a mighty effort Ansel ripped free from the spear, leaving most of his lower body behind. “I guess there are still a few things left that you can teach me. I look forward to prying them from your corpse.” His projected image began to unravel rapidly. With a shout Alexandra lunged for him, channeling all of her power into her grasp, but she could only watch helplessly as the threads slid between her fingers and disappeared. The throbbing energy of the city came back into focus around her. Staring at her clenched fist, she stood isolated and alone amidst that vast tangle of life. When she opened her fingers, a handful of green motes sparkled in her palm, far more precious than the gemstones they resembled.

A note concerning ties stronger than blood (Project: Lodestar 8)

2009-03-17T21:47:00.000+01:00

Amaranth ran through hazardous rain darkened streets. The apartment building she left ten minutes ago seemed squat and hunched in the gloom. Her hand was shaking so hard she could not press the call button on the intercom. Instead she took a few steps back and kicked the metal door from its hinges. The lobby was dark and she located the stairwell by the wan illumination cast by the emergency lights. Taking the stairs three at a time Amaranth was a crimson flash. Cassandra’s door did not slow her down at all, in fact it exploded with such velocity that the fragments caught flame. Slippery shoes betrayed her and she was only able to stop herself by crashing half way through a wall. Amaranth stumbled free as a cascade of lightning cut through the sky illuminating the apartment. On her knees she tried to find the breath to cry.

A soldier named Ridley paused halfway through the report he was reading, cursed, and leaned back into his camp chair. The efficiently spartan quarters took on an empty feeling he had never noticed before. Ridley retrieved a half finished cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. He took a deep drag and held it until his vision began to waver before releasing his breath. Bluish smoke enshrouded the radio on the desk. Ridley roughly thumbed it on and spoke in a gravelly baritone, “Maya, something urgent has come up. I’m going stateside for an unknown amount of time. Please draw up orders placing Hamlin in charge of the Reapers until I return.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Thank you, Maya.” Ridley hung his head and pulled deeply from the cigarette once more.

A man sometimes called Dayth awoke from a dead sleep with a start. His surroundings confused him. There was a distinct impression of being trapped in a small room despite the fact that he was in an open forest. Instincts warred within his mind and adrenaline turned his limbs to fire. Dayth wanted to both fight and flee. Something warm and rough pressed against his cheek brought him to his senses. An old, grizzled wolf stared at him with warm amber eyes and licked his face again. Realization of what happened hit Dayth like a hammer blow. The wolf tilted his head back and loosed a low, solemn howl. The call was picked up by the other animals in the makeshift camp; a collection of dogs, wolves, and coyotes. Dayth added his voice to those of his brothers and sisters.

A young woman named Kyler sat alone in a warmly lit room. A pair of tears formed in the corners of her vacant eyes and slowly rolled down her cheeks.

A glassblower named Gabriel stared without seeing anything. His clothing smoldered. Molten glass oozed between the trembling fingers of his clenched fist deep within the furnace. He vainly tried to chase his nightmares away with the pain.

The mysterious Grey dodged backward awkwardly, his balance askew from his recently severed right arm. He ducked under his opponent’s next attack and deftly tapped it on its left hip. Blackish purple sparks erupted from the point of contact. Over half of its component pieces were teleported to random locations throughout the Tomb and what was left collapsed into a heap at Grey’s feet. Momentarily free of the melee, he paused to take stock of the situation. A sudden sharp intake of breath and a slight narrowing of the eyes was the only indication he gave that something was amiss. Grey's voice was quiet and harsh, “That utter cunning bastard.” When he tried to teleport out of the Tomb, his body flared into a cloud or purple sparks and images of him flickered violently all over the room and did so with such rapidity that it seemed as if he were everywhere at once. The sparks dispersed. Grey reappeared. Thin cracks of rage began to mar his normally imperturbable veneer.

Even the shock of Cassandra’s psychic tremor could not cause Arsiel to falter. He choked up on his weapon and quickly dispatched the two machines in front of him. Despite more foes pressing in he spared a breath to disparage Ansel. Finely channeled fury raced through his limbs and his world narrowed to flashing blades and the smell of wreckage.

The minute characters flooding Valentine’s vision with streams of information blurred. She blinked once and her eyes returned to their normal hazel hue. The sounds of the struggle around her began to feel overpowering. Grey looked angry; Arsiel fought with an inhuman level of competence and poise. Valentine bit down on her lip and rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of a glowing hand. When she opened them data was once again rolling across an even orange field and she redoubled her efforts with a new found determination.

Far away, a young lady named Midori rose slowly from her bed. Her movements were slow, trance-like. Although tears welled from her eyes, when she spoke to the empty room her voice was level. “Yes, Cassie, I understand.” She raised a hand to the wall and began to write, the wood smoldering in the wake of her fingertip.

Alexandra absently rubbed her cheek leaving a smear of dirt behind. The sunlight was warm upon her back and the fragrant breeze cool on her skin. She jerked her head up abruptly. “What? No!” Alexandra dashed recklessly through her garden and into her home. The normally open and friendly environment seemed a hostile obstacle in her rush. Cursing under her breath the entire way, she grabbed a staff from an umbrella stand near the front door, careened around a corner, and leapt down the basement stairs. The psychic impact of Cassandra's passing broke her concentration and she twisted her ankle when she landed. Alexandra turned the stumble into a forward roll and kept moving toward a mirror standing upright in the middle of the room. Its surface rippled slightly, like water. “I won’t be too late! Not again!” Alexandra thought as she lunged through mirror leaving behind a heap of earth-stained clothing.

A note concerning Cassandra (Project: Lodestar 7)

2009-03-13T05:23:00.001+01:00

Cassandra felt like she had to drag herself the last few feet to her door. An echoing crash of thunder rattled the apartment building. Moments later the hallways plunged into darkness. Emergency lights quickly turned on, but did little besides add texture to the shadowy gloom. Cassandra opened her door. Something was nagging her just behind the eyes, but she couldn’t figure out what. She dropped her coat and headed to the kitchen to get a candle. The pressure behind her eyes increased. The air was heavy and charged. With trembling hands Cassandra retrieved and lit a candle from the cupboard. She returned to the common room and almost dropped the candle in shock.

“Hello, Cass. It’s been awhile.” Ansel smiled and stood up.

“No…” Cassandra’s voice was small.

“What? Not happy to see me?” Ansel’s hand flickered with brief motion and two short rods flew across the room and pinned her to the wall by the shoulders. The pain was excruciating. “I guess this isn’t too big a surprise for you, so I’ll let it go.”

She tried to block out the pain and focus her mind. Between sharp breaths she spoke, “How?”

“How what?”

“How is that you’re not dead?”

Ansel’s grin was strangely luminescent in the darkness. “A little trick I picked up from Alex. It was touch and go for awhile, but I’m a stubborn bastard.”

“What about the Tomb?”

“That was a clever move, I’ll give you that, and it would have worked great if you had gotten me into it. Unfortunately for you, there may have been some confusion with the bodies towards the end there. My fault really.” Ansel sighed and shook his head. “Poor Benjamin didn’t quite know what he was getting into when he signed on with me. Still, you know the saying about omelets and eggs.” Just as Cassandra was getting the pain under control Ansel reached out and ground one of the rods around in her shoulder. She tried to bite back the scream but couldn’t and almost blacked out. He cupped a hand to her cheek and an invigorating jolt coursed through her body filling her with energy but doing nothing for the pain. “Now now, can’t have you blacking out just yet,” chided Ansel.

“Just do whatever it is you’re going to do, Ansel. I’m not stupid, I know where this is headed.”

“So curt!” Ansel moved his hand from her cheek and brushed her hair from her face. His eyes were bright with a mad energy. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

Cassandra coughed, and the pain elicited a whimper. “Curious? Why? So I could listen to you boast?” She almost instinctively shrugged, but caught herself at the last minute. “No Ansel, I don’t care. I know you’re fucked up. I know there’s nothing I can say that will change what you’re going to do. I’m not going to play along and give you whatever sick enjoyment you’re looking for. So either do what you’re going to do, or piss off and get me the fuck down.”

The glee and congeniality left Anel’s features. The heaviness in the air increased to oppressive levels. Lightning flashed and illuminated his scowl. “You think you’re just so damn clever, don’t you? Where’s your precious foresight now?” Ansel punctuated his question with a backhand that split her lip open.

Cassandra began to panic. Ansel wasn’t letting her concentrate. “I’ve already warned the others. The instant you kill me they’ll know for sure.”

“What, is that supposed to scare me? The lot of you couldn’t kill me before and you had Steven then. He's gone and soon you'll be joining him, what makes you think things will be any different this time? No, I’ve already accounted for their awareness.” Ansel’s right hand became enveloped in coruscating blue light. He placed it on her stomach, and with a sizzle it passed seamlessly through the flesh into her abdomen. Cassandra forgot all about her shoulders, her apartment, even Ansel. Nothing else could compare to the agony. Ansel waited until a semblance of sentience returned to her eyes and for the screaming to die down. He flexed his fingers within her and smiled as she writhed. He stepped in close, his cheek brushing against hers and slowly moved his hand up towards her ribs. “I’ve always been very curious about something, Cassandra. Just before I killed Steven I felt this flash, this warning that he was about to die. It came as a surprise and I always wondered if the rest of you felt it too. I’m guessing at least some of you did. That bastard Grey blinked in and almost stopped me. He was confused though, I don’t think he’s used to operating on instinct. That cost Steven his life.” Half the length of Ansel’s forearm had penetrated into her torso. He ran his fingers along the surface of her heart, felt its frantic pulse. “There it was! The same flash! Did you feel it Cass? Did the others? I’ll have to be sure to ask them when we meet.” He gently kissed her cheek and drew back slightly to look into her eyes. The blue gaze that stared back was defiant. “Good bye, Cassandra.” He held her heart in his hand and he squeezed.

A note concerning the Tomb (Project: Lodestar 6)

2009-03-12T00:27:00.000+01:00

“Alright, that should be the last one.” As Valentine entered the room crystal patches inlaid into the walls rose to a glow providing gentle illumination. The Sarcophagus seemed larger in person. She hesitantly walked up to it, her hands nervously fidgeting with her tools. “See? No sign of foul play. Let’s get out of here and seal it back up.”

Grey strode over and ran a finger along the lid. “Humor me and access it directly.”

She narrowed her eyes, “I’m tripling the size of the bag, Grey.”

“Quit your grousing and get to work.”

Valentine continued to mutter under her breath. She reached out and laid both hands on the Sarcophagus. Orange pulsing light quickly sparked outward in vibrant angular patterns. Arsiel walked over to one of the statues and rapped it lightly with his knuckles. It made no sound. “You know, Grey, having us break him out would totally be Ansel’s style.” Grey glanced over his shoulder at him and slightly raised his left eyebrow. Arsiel dismissed the look with a wave and a smile, “Yeah yeah, borrowing trouble,” he paused for a beat, “No less true though.”

Valentine looked up from her work. Rectangles of light appeared in the air around her displaying all manner of visual and textual data. “OK. The box is still occupied and the occupant is very much dead. The seals haven’t been broken or tampered with, and none of the room’s dedicated security systems have been tripped.” As she spoke the various displays illuminated and enlarged themselves as they became relevant. “That’s about as comprehensive as I can get without actually opening the damn thing.”

Arsiel walked over. “Ok, if he’s still in there now what do we do?”

“Whoa. Hold on a second,” Valentine’s voice was shaky. “What the hell? Something’s not right.”

Grey may have been talking about the weather for all of the emotion in his voice, “Care to elaborate?”

“There are some discrepancies between what the Sarcophagus’s internal sensors are reading and what the system is displaying them as reading. They’re showing that the corpse is smaller than the systems think it is.” The tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips as she concentrated. “Diagnostics indicate that there’s a problem with the relay between the sensors and the processing system. Rerouting to back up relays now. OK, everything’s back to normal and hey, would you look at that I’m getting an alert that the corpse’s status has changed.”

Arsiel frowned, “So the body shrunk? Don’t they do that what with all the decomposition?”

“The Sarcophagus is hermetically sealed and temperature controlled, there should be no decay, nor anything else. The body is effectively in stasis. But two weeks ago it reduced in mass and size by roughly eighteen percent and its temperature briefly spiked by 8 degrees.”

“Is there an internal camera?”

“No, but if you give me a minute I can make a portion of the lid transparent. Arsiel stand by in case the guardians freak out. I’ve shut down as many triggers as I can but I’m still likely to trip a few alarms by altering the substance of the Sarcophagus.”

Arsiel drew his blade, an elegant five and a half foot bastard sword made of the same lustrous white metal as his armor, and stood in a relaxed stance in the middle of the room. “So Grey, where do shrinking bodies fit into your plan?”

Grey cleaned the lenses of his glasses before replying, “They don’t. Not yet.” Valentine finished speaking softly to the metal and after a soft caress it lightened to a crystal clear transparency. Arsiel focused on the statues. Grey crowded in to take a look. His eyes narrowed. “That’s not Ansel.”

The air felt quieter, the shadows a little darker. The pitted iron statues loomed menacingly. Arsiel half turned to look back at Grey. “What? How can it not be Ansel? The body we put in was Ansel’s. If no one opened the damn thing how’d a new body get in there?”

Grey drummed his fingers on the now transparent metal, “Is it possible that the same bug in the sensor relay hid a breach from you?”

“No way. Too many redundant systems for that, some of which are purely mechanical, and none of them have been tripped or broken, I checked directly. As far as I can tell, about two weeks ago Ansel’s body turned into this guy’s.” Valentine paused, mouth slightly opened. “What the hell is that?”

“What the hell is what?”

“There’s some sort of bizarre energy marker in here. Someone’s been in my system. Someone slick. I wouldn’t have even noticed if not for the relay bug.”

“Has anything been tampered with?”

“Not that I can tell…” The lights in the room suddenly cut out and the access way they used to enter vanished behind a panel that slid seamlessly into place in the wall. The Sarcophagus dropped down through a hatch in the floor, which promptly sealed behind it. “An intruder breach? Now?”

Grey’s features seemed waxy and unhealthy in the orange light emitted by Valentine. “Where?”

Another rectangle of light appeared in the air, this one displaying a schematic of the Tomb. A bright dot flashed in the center schematic. “In the crypt chamber…but that means…Oh shit. We’re the breach.”

“Can you turn it off?”

Valentine’s fingers and eyelids twitched. A flood of tiny characters could be seen flooding across the surface of her eyes. Webs of light raced along the floor from her feet. A series of muted clanks, snaps, and hisses could be heard from the walls. “I shorted out the traps in the Crypt chamber and bypassed the guardians. That trick won’t work again, though, the system is fighting back now. Whoever got in adjusted it just enough so that if an alert was triggered we’d be classified as hostiles. And now that we’re in an alert, the system won’t recognize any commands to reclassify our status. And no, I can’t turn it off. An off switch was a ’exploitable weakness’ ‘we’ decided to omit in the design phase as I’m sure Grey can recall with perfect clarity.”

“I do.” Grey slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “Unfortunately Arsiel, we’re going to have to fight our way out.”

Valentine pivoted in place hands slightly upraised,“I’ll do what I can to keep the traps from killing us. Until the system catches up to me I can use them to take out guardians in other sections. It won’t account for all of them, though, so you guys are on your own there.”

Ringing metal footsteps could be heard pounding up the corridor towards the main door to the Crypt chamber. Arsiel approached the door. “Hey Grey, when you guys designed this place, you used us as the standard for the kinda people you wanted to keep in or out, right?”

“Correct. Which is why I can’t simply just gate us out of here.”

The footsteps got louder and were accompanied by a bone tingling high-pitched whine. Arsiel assumed a ready stance in front of the door. Blackness blossomed from the shoulders of his armor and spread across its surface much like spilled ink on parchment. The darkness was deep, textured and full of soft pinpoints of light. His silhouette could have been a window into deep space. The door opened. He smiled. “Good, I was looking for a challenge.” Oblivion manifest as a man with a scintillating pearl sword rushed to meet the screaming mechanical tide.

A note concerning Amaranth (Project: Lodestar 5)

2009-03-10T00:40:00.001+01:00

“Are you sure you don’t want a dry change of clothes?” asked Amaranth from the doorway. Her short red hair was all bangs and spikes and her body lithe curves.

Cassandra seemed half drowned and continued to wring water from her hair. “Nah, I’m fine. Just gonna get wet again anyway. I appreciate the coffee though.” She took a sip and almost choked. “Geez, Ama, put a little booze in here?”

Amaranth walked over to the table, moving with grace and swaying limbs, and sat down next to Cassandra. “Don’t question the doctor. I know what’s good for you.” She took a sip from her own cup and continued, “So what brings you to the club at this hour? Can’t get enough of sweet ‘ol Ama is that it?” She smiled easily and put an arm around Cassandra.

“You’ve got me pegged,” came the wry reply. She rolled her eyes and set her cup down on the table. The deep bass beat from the dance floor two floors below caused it to rattle against the saucer. “But it’s not all pleasure.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured as much. You look absolutely ragged. What’s the trouble?”

“It’s big. Like old days big.”

Amaranth looked askance and snorted. “Please. What could possibly have snuck up on us that’s that big? You going to tell me that Ansel’s ghost is coming back to haunt us?” Cassandra said nothing and the frivolity drained from Amaranth’s face. “What? Seriously?”

“Not his ghost exactly, no…”

“Ok, you had me worried for minute there…”

“More like he’s not really dead.”

The only sound in the room was from the ceramic rattle of the cups and the bassy reverberations from down below. Finally, Amaranth spoke, “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Not about this. How could I?”

“Shit. So who knows? What’s going on?”

“Just you and Grey and Arsiel.” It was easier than she thought to omit Gabriel. “I don’t have a lot of information. I’m getting pretty hazy signals. Grey hasn’t been able to confirm anything and is hesitant to act. I’m not sure how helpful he is going to be until things become more certain. Arsiel thinks that we should get ready anyway and that he’d get in touch with Ridley. Who can you reach?”

“Alex and I talk pretty regularly and I meet up with Midori every few months. Used to keep in touch with Dayth too, but as far as I can tell he’s fallen off the face of the planet,” she paused a moment before continuing, “And I know where Gabe is, although we haven’t spoken in a few years.”

Cassandra’s reply is muted, “I wouldn’t worry about Gabriel at this point.” She took a quick, nervous swallow from her cup.

“Oh.” Amaranth considered her friend for a moment, “Oh.” She tapped her nails against the table. “Ok then. So we’re just spreading the word at this point?”

“Yeah. I mean we need to figure stuff out but we don’t have too much information. I’m hoping things will become clearer for me soon, but maybe one of the others has noticed something that’ll make sense in this context that they may have written off as unimportant. Grey may be balking, but I know I’m not wrong.”

“Maybe you just need some rest, hon. You really do look terrible. Maybe if you tried attacking this with a full tank you’d get better results.”

“I know, I know. It just seems so important, like I’m working against a clock.” She rubbed her eyes and stretched in her seat. “Still, telling you seems to have taken the pressure off. There’s only so long I can replace sleep with food and nervous energy.”

“Do you want to crash here?”

“Stars no! I’d never be able to take the noise. No, my own place will do just fine.”

“If you insist.” Amaranth stood and offered her a hand up. “I’ll walk you home.”

Cassandra accepted the hand and rose creakily to her feet. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“Now it’s my turn to insist. It’s really no trouble.”

“You know, I don’t even have the energy to argue anymore.” She sluggishly took her coat from the hook and slipped it on. With a crooked smile she offered her arm. “Take me away shining knight.”

Amaranth donned a long coat and walked over to her friend. She leaned down, took her cheeks in hand and kissed her gently on the forehead. The skin tingled where she touched. Heat and vigor flushed Cassandra’s cheeks.

Cassandra giggled and leaned into the tall redhead. “I forgot you could do that.”

Amaranth set her back on her feet and smiled. “Easy there, lightweight. Just a touch to get us home.”

“Yes doctor,” her voice dripped languidly.

“Oh lord, I’ve done drugged the woman. Come along, I bet the rain will sober you up.” Amaranth easily navigated her down the stairs and into the street. Once outside the downpour was fierce and pervasive. There was nothing to see, hear, feel, or even taste beside it. It was like being underwater. “Wow this is going to suck.” Cassandra giggled euphorically to which Amaranth responded with a good natured sigh. “Come on you, let’s get moving.”

The normally short walk seemed to take forever in the oppressive weather. Eventually Cassandra’s building loomed out of the darkness. The two women took shelter on the stoop. “Do you want me to come up?”

“No thank you.” Amaranth’s little booster had faded and Cassandra felt even wearier than before. “And no more of that magic touch business. I don’t like it when my mind is foggy.”

“Are you sure you can make it?”

Cassandra gave her a light punch to the shoulder. “Please, I’m tough stuff. Go on, get out of here before the city is submerged. Don’t forget to call Alexandra and Midori. I’ll work on Grey, see if he can give me an angle on Dayth and Valentine.”

“But first you’ll sleep.”

“Yes. Like I said, whatever was driving me before is gone, I’m very ready for bed time.”

Amaranth hugged her. “Rest well. Give me a call when you wake up.”

“Will do. Talk to you soon.” Amaranth vanished into the downpour. Cassandra fumbled with her keys and finally opened the door with a creak. It felt good to be home.

A note concerning Valentine (Project: Lodestar 4)

2009-03-08T22:46:00.000+01:00

The morning sun shone down upon a remote mountain valley. Deep within this valley stood three people. One was a slight man of moderate height. Neither his short dark hair nor his long gray coat moved in the fast blowing wind. The second, also a man, was massive. This giant was clad from neck to heel in armor made from gleaming white metal. The third was a short woman. Tools and gadgets rattled against one another on her heavy belt and web harness.

“I don’t know, Grey, this seems like a bad idea,” Valentine snatched the bandana off of her head and crammed it into a pocket before the wind could take it.

“You’ve had worse before, I don’t see why this would give you pause.”

“C’mon, Val, you know Grey doesn’t take risks unless he feels he has to.” Arsiel stepped beside her acting as a windbreak.

Valentine scooched in closer to him and frowned, “Well, I’d just like to go on the record saying that I’m not in favor of this.”

Arsiel patted her on the top of the head, “Noted. Now open her up.”

“I’m reserving a big bag of ‘I told you so’s just in case something goes wrong.” While she spoke, Valentine reached towards the nearby valley wall. Orange light formed at her fingertips and traveled up her arm in an intricate geometric pattern. She placed her palm flat against the wall and more light scribed its way across the surface. “Hey, in a minute two red circles are going to appear on the wall. When that happens you guys need to touch one and say your name.” Soon after she said that, the light around her palm turned red. She spoke in a level tone, “Valentine Reed” Two more circles of light emerged on either side of her. Grey and Arsiel stepped forward placing their hands as Valentine prompted.

“Elijah Talongrey”

“Arsiel Kilcanon”

A faint chime sounded and a portion of the wall slid away in twelve equal portions. The opening revealed a moderately sized room surfaced in smooth granite. A metal door was set into the far wall and the room was illuminated by a blue crystalline structure protruding from the ceiling. The three stepped inside and the wall sealed behind them. When Valentine approached the center of the room, a plinth grew from the floor. It stopped growing at waist height and a small glowing sphere detached itself to float just above it. She gathered it up in her hands and closed her eyes. The orange patterns spread to encompass the sphere, which remained floating once she let it go. She opened her eyes, now solid pools of orange light, and looked at her companions. “Alright, I’m logged in. According to the systems, no one has been in here since we sealed the place up. Nothing triggered, nothing breached, nothing detected. All defenses and defenders are undamaged and fully operational. Nothing looks disturbed in the crypt chamber either.” Valentine drew a rectangle in the air with her finger and an image formed within its confines. It showed another room with smooth stone walls. A metallic, coffin-like structure rested on a large slab in the center of the room. Eight-foot tall humanoid statues made from what appeared to be pitted iron stood in each corner.

Grey stepped closer and stared at the image. “Can you remotely access the Sarcophagus?”

“Nope. Decided it would be more secure if you could only interface with it directly. Why?”

“Because now we have to go down to the crypt and check for ourselves.”

Valentine let the image vanish and looked at Grey incredulously, “Are you kidding? There are no anomalies in the system. Everything checks out.”

“Everything seems to check out. I want to be sure. And to be sure we need to investigate the Sarcophagus.”

“Grey there are 27 separate security check points between here and the crypt that we’ll need to bypass. It’s going to take hours. And since we don’t have a majority of members here, we can’t even legitimately get through some of them. “

“It needs to be done.”

“Then why are we doing this half assed? Why not just gather everyone together and use the system the way it was designed?”

“Cassandra’s foresight, while accurate, can be difficult to interpret. If her reading of things is correct and Ansel is alive, checking the Tomb is the most definitive way of confirming it. However, let’s assume for a moment that this is a ruse by Ansel’s supporters designed to get us to act. Presently, only the three of us know the Tomb’s physical location. The more of us that know, the greater the chances are of someone else finding out. Furthermore, if a majority of us were to gather together, our energy signatures would be easy to detect. If that’s what they’re waiting for, we’d be leading them right here. This course is the lowest risk amongst a number of unsavory options.”

“I can play the let’s assume game too. If for some bizarre reason Ansel is in there and awake, what happens when we open the box to look inside and he jumps us?”

Arsiel grins, “That’s why I’m here, squirt.”

“Alright, so you and the boy genius here have everything planned out. That doesn’t change the fact that we have to break into our own goddamned secure facility.”

Grey employed a smirk he designed to convey an inflated sense of cleverness, “What about the failsafe backdoor access?”

“What?” she asked wide eyed. “That’s for super dire emergencies. The whole complex is going to go into alert mode! There is going to be unavoidable damage caused by the breach not to mention the whole place is going to be vulnerable.”

“Damage can be mended, and we can ameliorate the weakness presented by the breach personally.”

“Arsiel, talk some sense into him.”

“Sorry, Val. But he’s right, we need to know for sure, and this the best way to do it.”

“You guys are both mental.” She pouts. “Fine, I’ll do it, but I’m doubling the size of that ‘I told you so’ bag.”

A note concerning Arsiel (Project: Lodestar 3)

2008-09-21T17:01:00.000+01:00

The humid air stickily embraced her. It was an altogether unpleasant change from the cool dryness of Grey’s office. Cassandra made a face and shrugged out of her coat. She tied it around her waist and surveyed her surroundings. Thick jungle blocked her vision from every side. She was standing in a clearing, maybe forty, fifty yards square, feet sinking slowly into the thick, aromatic soil. Looking down at her feet, Cassandra saw a tiny green shoot peeking back at her. A voice, strong, but colored by uncertainty startled her. “Cassandra?”

She peered over her shoulder. A tall man, broad of shoulder, held a hoe as if it were a spear. His straw blond hair seemed ephemeral in the light of the full moon. Cassandra smiled, “Arsiel!”

His smile was brighter than the moon, “Cassie!” Arsiel dropped the hoe and dashed across the field in long strides. Cassandra giggled like a child as he swept her up in massive hands, twirled her around, and tossed her easily into the air. She tried to catch her breath, but even as she was gently caught and set back upon the ground she couldn’t stop laughing. “Cassie, it’s so good to see you! What an unexpected pleasure.” His voice was warm and the kindness radiated from him like heat from a furnace.

Cassandra rested her forehead against his sternum and took a few deep breaths. “You’re such a big kid, Arsiel. Stars, it does me good to see you. I should visit more often.”

Arsiel shoved her playfully, “Yeah you should. What’s up with that?”

She grabbed his shirt for balance. “Some of us had to grow up and have work to do.” She stuck out her tongue. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Arsiel’s exuberance settled. “Work, eh? Seems like that’s the only reason I get to see you these days…”

She sighed, “Time for that in a moment. I haven’t seen you in over a year, what have you been doing to keep out of trouble?”

“Well I was helping out Ridley for awhile after, well, you know, all the unpleasantness. But I got tired of the mercenary life, too much bloodshed. I wanted to do something constructive for a change. So I moved out here and now I’m a farmer. Don’t have too many plots, enough to get by. Plus there’s a community up river a bit that’s always happy to take the surplus. I help ‘em out a little if the bandits get out of hand. Couple months back some would be dictator needed to get knocked down a few pegs. It was a good way to shake the rust off. “

“And you’re happy with all this?”

“Yeah. It’s a fulfilling life. Don’t get me wrong, the old days have a nice warm spot in my memory, and I miss you guys sure as the sun rises, but sometimes change is good, you know?”

“We could all benefit from an outlook like yours.”

“Do you keep in touch with the others?”

“Grey mostly. Though I meet up with Ama every month or so.”

Arsiel chewed on the inside of his cheek. A hint of sadness was obvious in his eyes. “Well, that must be nice.” He brightened up a little, “Grey, huh? How is his nibs?”

“Just as smug and infuriating as he was when he was twelve and wore his little suits and carried around those too big briefcases.”

“He never did change much on the outside.”

“I’m not so sure he’s changed on the inside.”

“So you two work together then?”

“Yeah. I do a lot of consulting work these days. I’m on hiatus at the moment though.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Your hiatus?”

“Something big has come up, Arsiel, and I’m terrified.”

“What is it?”

“Ansel. I’m not so sure he’s dead. I think he’s back.”

Arsiel was silent. He looked up at the moon and scratched his chin. Finally he spoke, “What’s Grey think about this?”

Rosy fingers of embarrassment crept up her neck and cheeks. “Grey…Grey hasn’t found anything yet. But he’s looking.” Cassandra absentmindedly nibbled on the nail of her index finger. “It was just a dream, Arsiel, but I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t believe it from anyone else, not even Grey, but you Cassie?” He rubbed a scar on his neck, “You’re not usually wrong.” Cassandra hugged him tightly. Tears leaked from her clenched eyelids. “You’re here, and you’ve told me, and I believe you, but what is it you want me to do?”

Cassandra wiped her eyes and looked up at him. Her voice was creaky, “What?”

“I’m just a glorified thug. You don’t know where he is or what he’s doing, and without that information there’s not much I can do. “

“You can believe in me. That’s enough for now I think.”

“Who else have you told?”

“Just Grey,” She paused and the tears snuck back, “And Gabriel.”

Arsiel drew her into a solid embrace. He stroked her hair. “Since you’re here, I can guess how that went.” Cassandra responded by trying to bury her head further into his chest. “It’s not your fault, you know. I can see why he’s so upset. Stephen was his brother, and Kyler, hell she was just a kid. She shouldn’t have even been there. That’d mess any guy up. It’s not right for him to blame you, but that’s his business, you know? You don’t have to believe him, though, and you don’t have to blame yourself.”

Her voice was hoarse whisper, “But it’s been so long. I was hoping… I was hoping things would’ve improved by now, Arsiel.”

“Some folks take longer to recover from that kind of hurt, Cass. Everything’ll come around in time.”

“I hope so, Arsiel.”

“You’ve got plenty on your mind already, Cass. If Ansel is back we need to be on our toes. You can’t let your head or your heart get clouded. Let Gabe sit this one out. Maybe he’s earned the rest.” Cassandra rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes and nodded. “What’s your plan?”

“I was going to go see Ridley. Grey probably can’t send me, so I’ll have to travel long ways.”

“Nah, don’t worry about Ridley. Till you get some proper intel he’s just as useless as I am. I’ll fill him in.” The tip of Arsiel’s tongue just peeked out from between his lips, a sure sign of deep thought. “You know, if we checked the Tomb that’d be an easy way to tell for sure what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I thought about that. Grey isn’t budging.”

“Have you tried Val?”

“He won’t tell me where she is or how to get in touch with her. “

“Can’t you just, you know, with your brain?” He touched his thumb to his temple, and waggled his pinkie in a visual demonstration.

Cassandra shook her head, “No. Not over this kind of distance. If we’re assuming Ansel is loose then he could intercept messages I send to anyone who’s more than a few dozen feet away.”

“Right, well then. You said you’ve kept in touch with Amaranth, yeah?” A nod. “Go see her and fill her in. If I had to bet a dollar I’d say she’s got a line on Dayth and Alex. I’ll work on Grey. Let’s get this thing mobilized properly.”

“But we don’t even know, not for sure, if it’s a serious threat…”

“No room for buts. Deep in your gut you know it’s true, right?” Another nod. “ Then that’s all there is. Stop being so timid about it. We’re your friends Cass, we don’t care if you’re crazy.” Arsiel’s smile was large and compassionate. “I can see why you’d be all shook up on the matter seeing as the first two people you told about it were Grey and Gabe, but now you’ve got Arsiel on the case, and we all know he’s too thick for doubt.” His smile grew in size and warmth.

It was infectious and Cassandra couldn’t help but grin. She squeezed his arm, “Thank you, Arsiel.”

“Don’t mention it.” The two stood side by side, Cassandra bolstering herself with the strength Arsiel clearly had to spare.

“It’s been nice. I really mean that. I needed this. I should get going though.”

“Sure you don’t want to spend the night?”

“Grey gave me a return ticket. Besides I’m feeling restless and wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“Burden! Are you kidding? I haven’t seen you in over a year and you’re worried about being a burden?”

“Shhh. That’s enough out of you. I’ve made up my mind.” She hugged him tightly. “Say hi to Ridely for me, OK?”

Arsiel shook his head and squeezed back. “Of course. You be careful. Once you meet up with Amaranth I want the two of you two stick together.”

“Yessir!” She executed a sloppy salute. He responded with a wry expression and a raised eyebrow.

“Seriously, be careful.”
“I’m not new to this. I’ll be fine.” She put on her coat and pulled a small charm out of her pocket. It was made from pewter and fashioned to look like a pair of feathery wings. She flicked the charm into the air and a rent, similar to the one from Grey’s office appeared. Cassandra smiled, reached out and squeezed Ridley’s forearm, then stepped into the rift.

Arsiel looked around his empty field and ran his fingers through his hair. “I sure hope she’s wrong about this, but I don’t know that any of us is that lucky.” He retrieved his hoe and picked his way back to his home.

A note concerning Grey (Project: Lodestar 2)

2008-09-15T19:10:00.000+01:00

The parlor was tasteful, assuming you didn’t have to spend any time in it. The room was designed to subtly unnerve its occupants. To start, it was four inches off square, the floor rose two inches from east to west, and the ceiling dropped three inches from north to south. All of the paintings and tapestries on the walls were hung almost imperceptibly askew and asymmetrically to one another. The focal point of the art was a series of three paintings over the barely un-level mantel. All were of the same size, but were not hung equidistant from one another, with the left most being closer to the center by just enough to catch the eye. The furniture, though appearing normal, was in fact slightly closer to the ground than one would expect, and although initially very inviting, was just hard enough to ensure that no one could sit in the same position for any length of time and still be comfortable. The floor was specially treated to be just tacky enough to affect the tread of the foot without seeming sticky.

It was an utterly trying room and Cassandra hated it. She stood in the corner and stared out the window while she waited. The glass of course was just impure enough to soften the edges of anything seen through it. A door whispered open and a tall thin man announced, “The Master will see you now.”

“Thank the stars.” Cassandra eagerly followed him out of the room. It took her a moment, but she eventually realized that even the butler was walking arrhythmically. She grabbed his sleeve, “Knock it off would you? I’m not in the mood for Grey’s bullshit.” He ignored her. It was a short walk to the double mahogany doors of the study. The butler announced her presence and then silently excused himself. “Grey, why do you always make me wait in that wretched room?”

“It’s a parlor, Cassandra, that’s what it’s for.” Grey was seated behind a heavy teak desk. He dimmed the desk lamp and leaned back into his chair. “How was Vermont?”

“Like you really need to ask.”

“I’m just being polite.”

“You’re being smug.” One of Grey’s smiles was very subtle, just the slightest turning of the lips, a miniscule bunching of the cheeks. It barely touched the corners of his eyes. It was a very infuriating smile. He employed it now. “Always with your games. It’s a wonder anyone can tolerate you.”

“You keep coming back.” More of the smile.

“Yeah well, I knew you long before you were like this.” She paused for a moment and sat down. She looked at her feet. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you were right about Gabriel.”

“Seriously, how did it go?”

“I hit him.”

“Did that improve the situation any?”

“No, just made me feel worse.” She leaned forward, hands on her knees. “It’s like he’s an entirely different person. I brought up Ansel anyway, but that didn’t help much either.”

“I believe I said something to that effect before you went.”

“I already admitted you were right. Just say ‘I told you so’ and get it out of your system.”

The smile left and was replaced by a more genuine look sadness. “This time though, it would have been nice to be wrong. Did you get to see Kyler?” Everything about him radiated sincerity. His face, his tone, even his eyes were cast with concern.

Cassandra wanted to believe it was true, but a tiny part of her was hesitant. Grey was the only person she had ever met who could lie so convincingly that not even she could tell. “No, things rather fell apart before we got to that point. She’s not dead, but I’m guessing she hasn’t improved.” She sighed

“Of course.” Grey removed his steel framed glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even I find this Ansel business hard to swallow, Cassandra. I know how accurate you can be, but I’ve found nothing to confirm your statement. Not a single piece of information has surfaced in any of my networks.”

“Please keep looking.”

“I will for now, but there’s only so long I can commit my resources in such a fashion.”

“There is a way we can be sure about this.”

“I will not reveal to you the location of Ansel’s tomb. Neither will Valentine.” Cassandra began to speak and Grey held up a hand. “No. Dream or no dream it’s too risky.”

“Fine. Let’s hope this isn’t something you’re going to regret.”

“Yes, let’s. What’s your next course?”

“Gabriel said I should talk to Ridley or Arsiel. It’s not a bad idea. Do you know where they are?” Grey made a show of flipping through a ledger. Nothing in the ledger was true, Grey kept everything of importance in his mind and he had an infallible memory. The act was unnecessary, his study was utterly secure, but Grey’s cleaving to security practices was so habitual it bordered on the paranoid. “Really Grey? Even here?”

“Everywhere, Cassandra.” Grey smiled. This one was much more smug than the first. “You do realize we’ve been having this entire conversation telepathically.” Cassandra was surprised, she hadn’t noticed. The realization was shocking enough that the contact broke. Grey spoke aloud for the first time since the meeting started, “I guess I’m not the only creature of habit.”

Cassandra’s stare was murderous as she reopened the link. “Do you know or not?”

“Of course I know. Ridely is in Japan. He’s in the middle of a security contract. Arsiel is in South America, the ruins of Rio.”

“If Ridley’s is in the middle of something I’ll go visit Arsiel first. He’s always been the more empathetic of the two anyway. Can you send me?”

“Yes.”

Cassandra stood and walked around the desk. She pulled Grey out of chair and embraced him. “Thank you for humoring me, Grey.”

“The threat is too serious for me to treat it as anything but credible at this point.”

She leaned back, holding him at arm’s length, “It’s ok, deep down I know it’s because you care about me.” Cassandra needed that statement to be true, so she believed it despite that tiny speck of doubt that always surfaced in Grey’s presence. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and mussed his hair.

Grey gently pushed her away and revealed another smile, this one built from warmth. “That will be enough of that. Stay safe Cassandra, I hope you have better luck this time.” He reached out with an exquisitely manicured index finger and deftly sliced a cut into the air. The cut arced fat, blackish purple sparks.

Cassandra stepped up to it and looked back at Grey. “I hope so too.” She stepped through and the wound in space quickly sealed behind her.

Grey smoothed his hair back and sat down at his desk. He stared at the blotter for a moment, and then picked up the phone. “Cynthia, I’d like a secure line please. Full encryption, level nine, please.” He waited. Clicks and hums emitted from the receiver followed by a steady tone. Grey punched in a fifty-six digit number without faltering, and waited another moment for the line to connect. “Hello Val, we need to talk.”

A note concerning Gabriel (Project: Lodestar 1)

2008-09-13T21:27:00.000+01:00

The heat from the workshop was a physical pressure against her skin and the furnace colored everything in russets and rosy oranges. He stood silhouetted against its maw. She chewed the inside of her cheek and said softly, “Gabriel.” It had been too long since she had last spoken that name. Her breath was quick, the acrid air tasted burnt on the back of her tongue.

“Cassandra.” The chill in his voice rooted deep within her chest. She pulled her coat tighter despite the overwhelming heat.

“It’s been some time,” nervous hands tucked errant strands of blond hair behind her ears, “When was the last time we spoke?” she asked without conviction.

“The funeral.” Gabriel pulled a long pipe from the furnace and began shaping the nascent glass vase at its end. “What do you want?”

“There’s trouble…”

“Oh?”

“Ansel is back.”

He stopped his work. The pipe rolled off the bench and clattered to the floor. Gabriel is not a large man, but Cassandra felt tiny in his presence. “What did you say?”

She shut her eyes tight as he approached, told herself it was only because of the sweat, refused to believe she was flinching, “He’s not dead.”

“I saw his fucking corpse.”

“Gabriel, it’s true. You have to believe me.”

“Have to? You lost that right a long time ago.” Gabriel turned and picked up the pipe. The tension seeped from his muscles with a long sigh. His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if this is a ploy for attention or what, but it’s not going to work. He’s dead.”

“I saw him in a dream. He’s coming back.”

“A dream, Cassandra?” his laughter was short and harsh.

“It’s not a trick, Gabriel. I came because I need…because I want your help.”

“You don’t need me. You need a shrink. Stop wasting my time.”

Tears formed slowly in the corners of her eyes and quickly evaporated in the dry, blasted air. “Gabe…”

Gabriel turned away and stared into the furnace. “Even if something was going on, I don’t do that anymore. I’m done. I’ve been done ever since the day we put Steven in the ground.”

“Gabe, listen to me…”

She reached out, but her hand was dislodged with a rough shrug of his arm. “I’m just a glassblower now. If you’re serious about this why don’t you go find Ridley or Arsiel.”

“So that’s it? This is where we’re at?”

“Do you really need to ask that?” he picked up the pipe and halfheartedly worked at salvaging the piece. “What did you expect to find here?”

“I was hoping to find my friend.”

“You should have learned your lesson about hope by now. The rest of us did.”

Heat came and sparked her fury. Cassandra fiercely yanked him around and drove her fist into his jaw. It was like punching an anvil. Gabriel did stagger, although more from the shock then any force behind the blow. “You really are miserable. Grey was right.” She shook her head slowly. “You think I need a shrink? At least I’ve moved on. All you’ve done is run away. When did you become a coward, Gabriel?”

“I think you should go now.”

Cassandra bit down on her bottom lip and tried not to think about crying. She turned and walked slowly to the door of the workshop. Something made her stop. Without turning, she asked in a quiet voice, “How’s Kyler?”

“Please leave.”

Cassandra stepped out into the pouring rain and let it wash her tears away.

The only sound in the shop for a long while was the pounding of the rain mingling with the drone of the furnace. Gabriel slumped to the floor, rested his head on the bench and stared at the ceiling. His eyes saw only painful memories. A ringing alarm brought him back to the present. The ruined glasswork was tossed into a scrap bin, the furnace banked, and the slender artisan locked up his shop. The rain outside was merciless and made for a demoralizing walk to the house. He removed his muddy boots and grabbed a towel, which he used as he moved through the dark rooms.

The air inside was heavy. It was almost as if the house itself were feeling sorrow. The only light came from under an upstairs door. Gabriel quietly opened that door and just as quietly closed it behind him. The room was warmly lit by dozens of tiny lamps. The lighting was at odds with the martial nature of the room. Weapons lined its walls. There was a circle painted on the undamaged floor.

A girl sat in a wheelchair facing the door. She was young, certainly no older than her early twenties, and had features that would be quite striking if not for the emptiness of her eyes and the slackness of her face. A gnarled scar on her right temple detracted further from her beauty. Gabriel walked over to her, squeezed her limp hand gently. He tried to watch her face, but his gaze kept wandering to the scar. Her long, black hair was pulled up into a loose bun. Gabriel seemed to struggle over something internally, then reached out to undo the bun. He arranged her hair so that it covered the scar. The girl did not respond nor make a sound. Only her soft breathing and the occasional blink indicated that she was even alive. Gabriel ran a hand through his own hair and walked to a cabinet on the other side of the room. It contained two slender swords. The scabbards seemed new. Gabriel took them and returned to the girl, gingerly placing them on her lap. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, “Ok, pup, time for your daily training.”

Kyler didn’t respond. She never did. Gabriel knelt and watched her face expectantly. He remained kneeling on the hard floor even when exhaustion took him to face his nightmares.

A note concerning reputations

2008-08-24T20:28:00.001+01:00

“So what’s the guy’s name?”
“Halcyon.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, that’s what the dossier says.”
“Weird name for an assassin. He work alone?”
“No. Two accomplices, Rose and Levity.”
“Holy crow, this guy is expensive.”
“One of the best, so they say.”
“Damn well better be.”
“Get this, even Arkham is afraid of the guy.”
“Arkham? Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Right then. Put in the call. Damn, I can’t even imagine what kinda sick fuck this guy must be to put a whack job like Arkham on edge.”

Elsewhere a young girl with crimson hair smiles as she pours tea for her guests. Sunlight streams in from a multitude of large, airy windows and causes her pigtails to flash. A large, vulpine creature basks lazily in a bay window. Sitting across from the young girl in a chair entirely too small for his frame is a youthful man with gleaming silver eyes. His knees are up near his chin and a saucer and cup balance precariously upon them. Something chimes in an adjoining room. “Excuse me, Miss Rose, may I get that?”

Rose clicks her tongue against her teeth, “Now Mister Halcyon, you know it’s rude to leave in the middle of a tea party.”

Halcyon smiles easily, “But Miss Rose, it could be important.”

She delicately sets the teapot down on the table and cocks her head to the side. “More important than being polite, Mister Halcyon? Look at Mister Darius here.” she gestures to a threadbare stuffed bear in an ill fitting top hat and vest, “He’s a minister of finance with many important obligations and meetings, and he understands the proper protocol for a tea party.”

“But Rose…”

“Or what about Mister Alfonz?” Here she indicates the stuffed crab sitting across the table from Darius the bear. It is bright yellow, possesses a comedic handlebar mustache and is missing an eye. “A diplomat of his caliber has many pressing engagements and he would never dream of interrupting a tea party.”

“Rose I…”

She narrows her eyes and strides around the table, her paisley sundress swishing briskly about her slender calves, “I do not appreciate your informal tone, Mister Halcyon.” Halcyon stares impassively ahead as Rose grabs his arm leans in close to his ear. She whispers fiercely, “Knock it off, Halcyon! You're embarrassing me in front of my guests! I know you know better.” Her breath smells like ginger snaps.

Halcyon rolls his eyes and sighs, “Sorry Miss Rose.”

“Smile.” Halcyon rolls the corners of his mouth up so far that he’s squinting. “Good.” In a flash Rose is back around the table, her tiny features once again open in the beatific expression of a happy child. The chiming stops coming from the other room. Halcyon sighs through his teeth.

Levity had opened an eye and nonchalantly watched the whole affair. Now that the drama appears to be over he rolls onto his back letting all four of his paws dangle in the air. The warm light feels good on his belly. He smirks as only an animal can and contentedly closes his eyes. Halcyon glares at him then looks at his cup. “May I please have some more tea and another cucumber sandwich, Miss Rose?” His is the resigned tone of a man trapped.

“Of course Mister Halcyon. It would be my pleasure.” Rose curtsies and retrieves the teapot.

A note concerning psychotic breaks

2008-08-19T17:26:00.000+01:00

“Let me ask you a question, lieutenant: Do you think I’m crazy?” Omni-directional lighting blasted all traces of shadow from the steel room. Arkham sat down on the corner of the table and brought his face closer to Lt. Rex’s by leaning forward. “I’m not, you know, but Command thinks I am. Psychotic break from reality they say. Totally not true, though. Just ask Mr. Nod.” Arkham gestured to an empty corner. “Post traumatic stress they say. Plane I was on went down a month or so ago. Uncharted territory, everyone else died except for Mr. Nod and me. Well, Mr. Nod wasn’t part of our group, he found me later. Saved my life.” Arkham stood up and walked around the table while he spoke. He headed over to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of water. “Water Lieutenant? No? That’s all right. You know, I could get you a more comfortable seat, even a change of clothes if you’d just co-operate and answer our questions.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Rex pressed his back to the chair and continued to work his right hand against the cuffs. A few more minutes of work and he could likely get the hand free without losing too much skin.

“Yes, we’re well aware of your current position on co-operation.” Arkham sipped from his glass. “Ok, I’ve got another question,” Arkham set his glass down, “have you ever seen an eye like this?” He removed his visor and gestured to his left eye. The iris was a bright golden color and highly reflective. “It changed into this at some point after the crash but before I was found. Mr. Nod says it’s a good omen, Command thinks it’s a traumatic mutation. Silly theory, eh? As if high stress could induce a physiological change of this type.” Arkham drew his left arm across his chest and tucked his hand under his right elbow. He tapped the visor he held in his right hand against his temple. “They think I’ve cracked under the stress of my ordeal. I know what you’re thinking, ‘if he’s broken then why hasn’t he been discharged?’ Well, Lieutenant, it’s because I’m very good at my job. And my job, as you may have surmised, is getting people to co-operate that may not be inclined to do so.” He moved over to a cabinet set against the wall. Using a key from his belt, Arkham removed the lock and opened the doors. Rows of glittering tools filled the interior. Based on the contents alone, it would be difficult to tell if the cabinet belonged in a machinist’s workshop or a surgical suite. “I’ve never really enjoyed my job Lieutenant. At times it can even be quite tedious.” Rex continued to focus on Arkham and did his best to make his struggle against his bonds as surreptitious as possible. “Mind you, I still get it done. Fortunately for both of us, with the arrival of Mr. Nod I find that I have an alternative. You see, Mr. Nod is very good at bringing people around to my point of view. It makes my job so much easier. So, why don’t you talk things over with him, see if you don’t change your mind.” Arkham reached the door with a few long strides, but paused and turned back to look at Lt. Rex. “Don’t try anything silly, Lieutenant, I’ll be watching.” He tapped the skin under his golden eye. The eye seemed to grow impossibly bright and a tingle rushed across Rex’s skin. Something smelled like it was burning. The recorder on the table leaked thin tendrils of acrid smoke. Rex also noticed that the telltales on the video cameras had all shut off. “Take your time Mr. Nod.” Arkham left the room and shut the door behind him with the faintest of clicks.

“It’s now or never,” thought Rex. He compressed the bones in his right hand and jerked hard against the cuffs. His hand made it halfway out. He flinched against the popping sound and tried to work some of the blood from his freshly torn skin between the cuff and his hand. A second tug freed his hand. He stood and looked around the room. His eyes alighted on the cabinet and he headed over to search for a weapon. The door swung shut when he was halfway there. Rex thought he could make out motion from the corner of his eye, but couldn’t see anyone else in the room. He took another step towards the cabinet and was knocked clear across the room by an unseen blow. His vision blurred when his head hit the wall. He sagged forward onto his knees and could make out a fuzzy outline of something coming towards him. There was something else in the room. Panic seized his chest and made his breathing erratic. His fingernails scraped against the steel floor as he tried to push back through the wall. The lock was clicked into place on the tool cabinet. Lieutenant Rex screamed.

Mr. Nod didn’t need any tools and, unlike Arkham, very much enjoyed his work.

A note concerning art thieves

2008-08-18T16:25:00.000+01:00

“Sam, explain something to me: You are the greatest art thief the world has ever known…”

“Says you.”

“You have had in your possession items worth millions of dollars…”

“Says you.”

“And yet you live in squalor…”

“Says you.”

“Why is this? Do you pay attention to the media? All the big art thieves are rich and handsome and have titles and gobs of money. You have a tiny one and a half room flat with ‘furniture’ actually made from take-out boxes.”

“I’m a barber’s son. Doesn’t usually come with a title and my mum still lives in the house.”

“Besides the point. You’re an art thief, you’re poor, and I’m the only one who knows either of those things.”

“You know I don’t do it for the money. Never have, the only reason I steal ‘em is because putting ‘em back is fun.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…”

“Gill, this is a hobby, if I did it as a job, it wouldn’t be fun anymore. ‘Sides, I’ve already got a job.”

“You work at the Chicken Deluxe. You clean grease traps and frialators.”

“A hard day’s work. How can you even expect me to make money as a thief? Do you know anyone who’d buy the Mona Lisa? It’s sitting over there right now and it’s got a sheet over it ‘cause it creeps me out. She looks slightly concussed, even if someone was willing to pay for it, who’d actually want something like that?”

“Are you serious? The Mona Lisa is over there, in the corner, with a sheet and a pair of likely dirty knickers draped over?”

“I’m always serious Gill.”

“There’s something wrong with this picture, Sam.”

“That’s what I was just saying. Glad you agree.”

“You amaze me, Sam.”

“I’m an amazing guy. Hey Gill?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“Can I have thirty quid?”

A note concerning angels

2008-08-15T16:18:00.000+01:00

The angel in the dirty T-shirt waited. Neither the light drizzle nor the gazes of the mourners fell upon him. The service was brief and somewhat cookie cutter as far as such things went. As the mourners dispersed and filtered past, the angel deftly plucked a very poisonous and highly agitated spider from the collar of a young boy. He set the spider down on a tree limb and it bit him for his trouble. The angel walked over to the casket and pulled a white carnation from a wreath. With an easy motion he levered the coffin open with one hand, then stooped to peer inside. Mary blinked at him, realized he was offering a hand up, and took it out of habit. The angel clapped a warm hand to her shoulder. She looked from the angel to her body lying in state and back. Confusion wrinkled her features and the beginning of a question parted her lips. The angel smiled with his eyes and his mouth, an expression more genuine than any Mary could remember, gently laid a finer across her lips, and offered her the flower. She took it, inhaled deeply, and felt much better. The angel in the dirty T-shirt offered his arm, which she took, and the two walked off together, arms interlocked. The coffin clicked shut.

A note concerning swords

2008-08-14T22:11:00.001+01:00

The sword could easily be described as sinister. Five feet long, single edged with a slight curve in the eastern style, its blade was forged of a metal black like a beetle’s shell. The guard and pommel cap were crafted from pristine bone, delicate and ivory in color, and the grip wrapped in smooth leather the creamy white of a maiden’s skin. A menacing blade indeed. Beside it was an exquisite scabbard, fashioned from the same fine bone as the guard and pommel. Linked to the scabbard by a slender chain was a jade and shell comb. If such a sword were to make a sound, one would expect the gnashing of demons or the lamentations of its victims, certainly not the whimpering pain and broken sobs of a young woman. At the time, the blade and its scabbard lay upon a woman’s colorful festival kimono, which was also at odds with the weapon’s apparent demeanor.

The warrior pulled out a battered flute and clean, bright notes filled the night air. The tune was poignant, defined by the carefree and idyllic character of youth. It was a song written by the only son of a village smith for the youngest daughter of the apothecary. Though the warrior played with a practiced ease, the song lost nothing in the playing. As the last notes reverberated through the air the crying from the blade had ceased.

A note concerning literal mindedness

2008-08-14T09:57:00.000+01:00

“Get down. You’re being disrespectful.” This was said to the lanky man perched atop the gravestone. He cocked his head to the side, poised like a curious bird.

“Disrespectful to whom? I don’t think…” he peered between his toes, lips moving slightly as he read, “Joseph Tawson, loving husband and father, is in much of a position to care.”

The lanky man’s companion, a large man with a strong brow, strong chin, and a generally brutish build pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I was not referring to Mr. Tawson. These are for the living.”

The smaller of the two men craned his head around to look at the neighboring marker. “Well, it seems like Mrs. Tawson is sharing the same real estate, so no harm there, eh?”

“Humor me, Zagan.” Zagan lithely hopped to the ground and easily matched step with the other. The two walked and everything was quiet save for the wind in the trees. Zagan noisily retrieved a wax paper bag from a worn pocket.

“Right, you’re so smart, Ronove, tell me this: Why do these people do this anyway?” He made an inclusive gesture with a pretzel retrieved from the bag.

“The memorials help the living to cope, it would seem…”

Zagan cut him off in a spray of crumbs, “No, that makes sense. I mean putting the bodies in the ground.”

“It’s all part of the process.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t work. I mean, look at what else they put in the ground: seeds and things they don’t want to be seen or found. The latter is excluded because it would defeat the whole purpose of a memorial, and the former doesn’t make any sense. I mean, what do they think could possibly grow from a corpse?”

Ronove thrust his hands into his pockets as if he were throttling an assailant. “Read some of the literature for once. It’s all in there. Dust to dust, and that sort of thing. It’s cyclical. Plus it’s part of the process for some of them depending on the faith. Besides, no one appreciates your literal mindedness. Planting the bodies like seeds? No one thinks like that, you’re being inane.”

“Inane? Please, try inquisitive,” Zagan shook his head, “Pretzel? No? Bah. No one makes pretzels like the guy on Brook Street. That’s the whole reason we came out here.”

“Maybe you. We should get back.” The two stood in tableau: ogre-like Ronove making a peculiar gesture with one massive hand and slender Zagan messily whistling out of key amidst a growing pile of crumbs. They stood for awhile and, much like time, they eventually went.

It came to pass three weeks later that a tree was found growing from the grave of one Joseph Tawson. Its smooth bark was a pale peach color and its leaves a vibrant crimson. It bore a curious fruit of a half dozen shiny pink babies, each hanging from their belly buttons by a slender stem. No one found the incident to be very humorous except for Zagan who, though severely disciplined by his superior, felt the whole thing was worth it in the end.

A note concerning Silk

2008-08-09T23:52:00.001+01:00

Mercurial Silk leans forward with one arm resting upon the battlement. As he gazes out over the quiet harbor, he uses his other hand to effortlessly fold small origami lotuses. After each flower is completed he relinquishes it to the breeze blowing off of the bay. Freshly spilt blood still steams on his skin in the cool air. Turning his gaze from the sea to the origami, he smiles slightly as he muses, "Hmmm, my hands are staining the flowers red...perhaps I should be making poppies instead of lotuses." He releases his most recent creation and then runs his hands through his hair, cleaning the remaining blood off before returning his paper into a slender, lacquered case. "Hello. Is there something I can do for you?"

“Thrice-Damned Silk. I doubt you’ll be courteous enough to turn yourself in quietly?” says the steel-eyed man as he steps around the corpses.

He gently sets the case down and turns to look at the person stepping out onto the battlement behind him, “Have you come to play? I was hoping for more sport from this purported city of warriors. I have thus far been very disappointed.”

“This is not a game. I will stop you before the sun next rises.”

Silk stretches out his arms, interlaces his fingers over his head and arches his back. “Oh this promises to be such fun. Please don’t let me down.” His eyes gleam brightly between blood caked lashes.

A note concerning Rooster

2008-07-17T23:30:00.000+01:00

The trio stepped out of the taxi and made their way up through the lobby of a well-appointed apartment building. Julie was giggling and clinging to Rooster’s arm as Samantha fumbled around in her bag for the keys. Samantha started to giggle as well by time she finally found them and opened the door. Rooster quickly spied the bar and made his way over, casually dropping Julie off at the sofa on his way. “Would you ladies like another drink?” offered Rooster. Samantha dropped her bag and coat to the floor and stalked towards Rooster.

“Oh I don’t know about that, I think I’d rather have something else…” she said huskily, grabbing his arm and pulling herself up against it.

“Now, now ladies, no need to rush things, there’s always time for another drink. “

Samantha pushed Rooster down onto the couch next to Julie, who promptly started to crawl into his lap. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on rushing, not with what I’ve got planned,” breathed Samantha as she settled down next to him. Julie reached over and started to slide loose his tie while Samantha started to run her fingers through his hair.

Rooster stood, gently disentangling himself from the two ladies. “My my, aren’t we eager? We may as well head to the bedroom, then, don’t you think?”

Samantha smiled, “Now you’re speaking my language. She and Julie herded Rooster into the bedroom, pulling at his clothes along the way.

***

Rooster awoke on yet another unfamiliar couch, staring blearily at a strange ceiling. He sighed as he sat up and stretched. The sun had not yet begun to stir and the apartment was still dark. He stood, groggily stretching and made his way towards the bedroom, pausing in front of a mirror to preen. Satisfied he continued on and opened the door. The girls were lying in bed, fully clothed, just as he left them the night before. Samantha was snoring slightly. Rooster shook his head solemnly and shut the door with a quiet click. “Hell, I don’t even regret it anymore, not even a little…” he muttered as he headed for the bar. He poured himself a drink and walked over to the apartment’s eastern facing windows. Every dwelling he ever stayed at invariably had them. The drink in his hand slowly collected condensation as it sat undisturbed. Finally, the sun began its ascent and Rooster raised the glass in greeting, “Mornin’ sunshine,” before downing the contents in a single swallow. He set the glass down in the kitchen, gathered his coat, and let himself out.