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Outpost 16-26

Patrick Adams 2
Extrapolation Science Fiction -- The Outpost

"The pretense of understanding…a sign of madness."

The loneliness is always present, sometimes cryptic, and his sense of home, however distant, always feels temporary. At times the lonely feelings arrive for a short visit, with the soft noises shifting through the jungle's darkness, then retreat for its secrets to remain guarded. Sometimes a cold smoldering of mist rises above the canopy in the moonlight causing Cooper himself to ebb inside. In one blink, the amount of time eternity used to build this forest,the loneliness pans out across the valley almost as if the forest had never been. Even in the flickers and shadows, the jungle holds no pretense of fantasy. Complete blackness of the night holds desperate struggles, the loneliness plays along, but he doesn't wish it away the way the memory of a loss would be wished away. Competition in sport is as full of loneliness as the strugglers in this jungle where the winners once remained.
There is no silence in this canopied place, no silence within his heart. There is only a gradient of loneliness and noise.
The constant hum of the jungle is interrupted by only intense sound, yet unrecognizable, the loneliness stalls. Something different comes to life, no smells, just pure essence that appears from behind the banyans, or under the green canopy. Anything living here knows the meaning of these timeless apparitions of loneliness, yet no data had emerged from the chilled darkness, the inner sanctum of this tropical rain forest. This timeless place keeps its secrets.




next

Cooper flashes up at the ceiling, not thinking, not at this moment. Thinking of nothing is a state of mind he has grown accustomed, his residual thoughts blurry, his face expressionless, as if nothing ever happens---the face of a Buddhist monk., willing to accept all the world offers, or nothing. it is the state of mind he brings to the lab bench. As he opens his ears, the state is jerked away and replaced by the heavier, thicker thoughts of a warrior who has fought and struggled, who has asked more of himself than anyone or anything can offer, and who is more than willing to take up a weapon at the sound of any odd noise.
"What the hell," he says.
"Damn! Did you hear that?"
Did you hear that Carter asks, as if strange sounds were not a part of this jungle. Cooper says,"My heart just gave birth. Do you have your weapon?"
"Yes."
"Is it loaded?"
Carter switches the security lamp."You have your cat."
You found your cat he pronounces, as if cats are suppose to be in this jungle, running around, climbing trees, and whatever else phantom cats do. Cooper says, "That's no cat."
The sound was far away but unmistakenly primal.
Cooper stands straight, awake, almost military in his stance, the sound echoing in the jungle blackness. The sound has no face staring back at him, yet something told him it was inhuman--and intelligent.


next

Dr. Cooper's eyes jerked open. "What the hell was that?" His first thoughts arrived. "Carter, did you hear that?"
"Yeah," Carter said, as he reached under his bunk for a weapon that wasn't there.
Cooper's heart felt like it was giving birth. He switched on the security lamp. ."Listen, there it is again." The sound was far away but unmistakably primal. Cooper looked out the window next to his bunk into the jungle blackness. This sound had no face staring back at him, yet something told him it was inhuman--and intelligent.

Patrick Adams 3
Extrapolation Science Fiction -- The Outpost



Th tigress, he thinks, should have been dead a long tine ago for reasons that seen, not obviously, of her own choosing. Her banyan cove will go the way of all the other habitats. A kind of trick played by nature that for all her glory, all her prowess her defeat lies within he very soil she walks, for her, the chemicals are more destructive than any predator fight.
Cooper looks out the window. He senses a strong control in himself as to who or what is the tigress. Whether she held good or evil intelligence, he couldn't tell. It didn't matter anyway. His mind didn't work in two's like that.
"What time is it?" Cooper asked.
"It's the dawn of time." Carter focuses on the weapon, as if its shine carries a special message, revealed only to him.
"Is the gun loaded?"
"Yes, sir."This type of communication wasn't on Cooper's agenda at two o'clock in the morning, especially this morning.
"I know what it is." Cooper says, even though he has to try to look unconcerned. He tells himself: tigers are not killers. Don't think of the oil in the ocean; don't thonk of the sulfur in the air.
"What do you think it was?"Carter became serious.
"I can tell you what it wasn't."
"OK…" Carter waited.
"Fur clad and club wielding."
"Very funny. You must be feeling safe because we're four stories up and these walls are three feet thick."
Yes, this lab fortress will stand up to those forces, and protect.



She will not ask the source of the noise; she in reality is not programmed to care of such frivolous things. Suzi, alone in her class of bioRobots, holds no innate interest in the natural world. Suzi simply doesn't see life forms as dimensional entities. it is, Cooper thinks, simply a matter of no ego in her program. Suzi can't imagine an existence more exciting than a flat screen and scanners, image animations, and all the offerings to humans that make they themselves feel more intelligent around her. Yes, their time with her will sooner or later, make them more intelligent. Suzi's game is not to paint others as smaller, her quickness, and lack of ego excludes her from doing that.
Cooper asks,"Did you hear it?"
"Did I? Yes, there are some things I just can't help. My scanners were on."
"What do you make of it?"
"Well, it's a life form."
"A tropical plant?" Carter looked serious.
Suzie looked serious right back. She says, "Yes."
Then she says, "No."





Next
Patrick Adams 4
Extrapolation Science Fiction -- The Outpost


"We interrupt this program to bring you the following message," Carter quipped.
"Carter!" Cooper was amazed at his friend's inability to resist tangling with a robot, a beautiful one at that.
"Just an odd distortion of space. Human," Suzie said.
"Suzie!" Cooper looked at her.
"Expressed thought. It's in my program."
Cooper silently stood, amazed how close Intac Systems has designed their robots to human life forms, allowing for something that minutely resembled social contact capabilities. "I would suggest we all go back to sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow," he said.
"Sleep?" Suzie asked.
"Whatever," Cooper said.









Cooper watched the data come off the gel. His technician turned toward him with a half smile. Coop felt a touch of warmth come to his face. "Well?"
"This data is coming a lot sooner than we thought," she said.
"Yeah, they'll be happy about this. They've been preparing to receive it for three months. How long before we publish?"
"This should about do it."
Cooper was beginning to feel aggressive, although it wasn't his nature.





















next
Patrick Adams 23
Extrapolation Science Fiction -- The Outpost

"Love the transcender, we the breaker of the rule."

Cooper focuses on the ocean and its horizon, and it seems they have traveled together, not as traveling companions but as acquaintances on a long trip, and have endured much, and now must go their separate ways as the more dominant coast comes into view. He senses the quiet there as well, and it seems they too are old friends, even with the shoreline's absent-minded old wind. Cooper smiles at the few breezes the this coast offers. He looks at it as a sacred place now; a place to settle thoughts that come to mind even if he recognizes none of them as his own. The stillness of the vast ocean laps gently against the rocks below the cliffside; he hears words descending in old hymns of layered monotone. He's not sure how long he's been out here.




next
Cooper looks at Suzie with some distance now. It seems abruptly easy to have worked by her side; she doesn't leave questions unattended for long.
It is altogether possible Cooper has crossed over into a parallel world, a world that until now has eluded him. A world with promises of sensations that resemble contentment, to become the man he thought he would rather be not be. The possibility of a morphing right here on the rocks of this sheer cliff in the presence of this gaseous view. It has captured another version of himself.



next
He is sipping his reflection in the water. "That smile," he thought. "That unexpected smile." He hears her voice, soft, smooth. He'll always hear it as poetry. He thinks for a moment, that she never hated, but she never loved either. He thinks of all those blues. All those tints of blue in her eyes but barely a human heart. He thinks he could escape when she pierced into his eyes. He escapes from nothing. That look of hers always comes out to play and it's here at this moment as a memory. She looks glamorous--beautiful--the way she always wants herself to be presented. Though her memory has come after him as if a phantom, he sees only her beauty. He sees her as any man would see her, not as something odd about her program. It's always summer with her, summer in robot seasons. Raindrops never hit the ground.




Dr. Cooper watched her from his laboratory window. A bobbing red umbrella offered her protection from the mid day sun. Her long black braided hair was a noticeable feature as she passed between the buildings. Cooper looked at the clock and noticed it was 11:23 a.m. At this time of the day the morning still offered its usual "gorillas in the mist" weather. A little rain broken up by sunshine. Dr. Cooper loved his job, but he loved visitors too. He wanted the girl with the red umbrella to see the mice. There was so much work to do, but he wanted her to visit. Carter looked up from the lab bench. "Coop! he blurted. "Exercising your Midwest work ethic again?"
"I want to meet her."
"She's probably an intruder."
"I don't care. I want to meet her anyway."
"She's not your type."
"Is she a student?"
"I don't think so. Anyway, get back to work. You can't make a living by looking out the window."
The bunkers were still in place from the war. They used to be an old lab station for the Department of Energy. Once used for A bomb development at a time when only a handful of people knew. Now it’s a full fledged university, bringing in students and money from Asia, the University of Beijing, and still close enough to attract talent from mainland America. Coop liked his undergrad days at Cal Tech. He remembered the Vietnam war protest. Burning banks, draft cards, bras. It seemed just like yesterday. And he liked exotic women. The beaches of Southern Cal were OK, but Coop really liked Rio. He would take a beach on Brazil anytime over Southern Cal. He was a student of science, and he liked it all. Geology, biology, theology, but genetics seemed to pay the most. His extreme weakness was exotic women with braids. And more and more of them seemed to be showing up at the Outpost.
The Ring of Fire ran right under the Outpost property, and Coop knew it. He felt tremors once in awhile. A catacomb of trails ran up the cathedral of mountains behind the lab building. History books claim that they are pigmy trails, but Coop knew the truth. Tribes of cannibals once roamed this jungle. Coop came with a team from Cal Tech every winter, but that was before he became Dr. Cooper. Now he has a permanent position here. As a young student, he was a city boy from Orange County. But his taste for the exotic was too much to resist. He worked here year round, and he was the one who would meet lab groups now.
Dr. Cooper savored the exotic world. The more he imbibed, the more he liked it. The mornings at the Outpost were always clear, but later in the day broken clouds rolled in. He was a specialist in genetics. And he knew enough environmental science to know that someone should be growing coffee in these mountains. But his project wasn't plants. The money came from the U.S. Army. He was studying the genetics of mice paws.
He loved the nights, especially on a clear evening. He looked for a migratory species of the Hawaiian owl. Considered good luck. But they made no noise. He always wanted to do a study to find out why. American barn owls hooted; Hawaiian owls didn't.
Here was a real problem with funding. The U.S. Army didn't care. Staring up into the mountain jungle with all that mist, he knew someday he would see a Hawaiian owl. But down the mountain one thing was sure. He would always see Chinese women. More beautiful than a human has a right to be. In all the animal kingdom, Mother Nature saved her best handiwork for Chinese women.
Parts of the Outpost were new. But other parts were built over Japanese bunkers and catacombs from World War II. It was innovative architectural design, and the Board of Regents trusted solid concrete foundations built by the Japanese army two centuries ago. The tropical rain and weather caused immense overgrowth, but it seemed to add to the exotic flavor of the Outpost. The mountain's strength was indisputable. And the Regents wanted cutting edge science here, not groundskeepers. The Outpost was only a seven and one-half hour flight from Los Angeles, but it kept its secluded feel. The ocean was blue and clear and free from all that radioactive hassle they had up in Bimini Atoll centuries ago. The Outpost looked down from a steep set of volcanic mountains. The panorama carried your attention out over the wide expanse of ocean. This place was a stark contrast from Los Angeles, but Coop liked it. His years as a student in LA fed an unknown appetite for a feeling he didn't even know existed. But he knew it when he felt it. And it was here. This was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life as a scientist. He never got tired of the ocean or took a sunny morning for granted. He liked this feeling. There were the usual hassles of writing grant proposals, but he liked that too. He liked pressure, ideas, solving problems. But this new job was going to offer the opportunity to really relax.
"Coop!" Dr. Cooper looked up. The technician Carter had just gotten back from lunch. "I met your friend with the braids at the café. She's nice."



She never felt so gunned down. Coop's sudden silence was a line drive approaching in slow motion. The anticipation of impact was enough to kill Suzie's desire, but she had to push on. "Where do you get the urge to pursue this kind of knowledge?"
"Humans are curious." He was hoping she would sit down so she would talk to him. "You are an intellectual. Intellectuals aren't supposed to prefer people over ideas."
Her discomfort was becoming noticeable. "Why do you do this?"
"So I would know the truth if I bumped into it."
"Then why out here at the end of the world?"
"The Outpost does not encourage unwanted competition among gifted researchers, and I like that. I also like the freedom of exploration."
"Exploration is the first step towards exploitation."
Coop wanted to know the full range and depth of her mind. But her eyes had already begun to distract him. He had already engaged in an activity with her that he didn't recognize as his own. He was already exploring the form of her body under her silk dress. Like Christopher Columbus sailing an unknown isthmus.
"Science is an endless series of explorations."
Suzie felt like she was being led through a series of explorations herself. Scrutinized by an alien trained at Cal Tech.
"Science begins with the most elementary explorations. It is a standing sequence."
Suzie sensed Coop was trying to place her in a familiar and reassuring setting prematurely. She wasn't feeling capable of following Coop's logic. It wasn't honey out of a barrel yet. Coop was beginning to sense an uncharted area on a false road map. His words seemed to condition and sensitize her. Her body was still close, but his mind had just taken the first shuttle out. To Cooper, her lips were moving in slow motion. Her energy was gamma, like in a TV. But if you sit too close, it's detrimental to your health. She seemed to be waking up to her own sensitivities. He was making her more aware of something she already subconsciously knew. She spoke with a certain gravity and grace. A sort of poet warrior.
"You men and your logic," she said.
Coop was feeling a lack of true breeding in Suzie. Those words came from her with the demeanor of a nun but the voice of a whore.
"My work is paid for by the U.S. Army. I'm officially silent."



Cooper's convictions gain strength enough to fight in a war, but all he really needs is for all to just leave him alone with his own thoughts that allow him to solve. He turns and is gentle with his thoughts of home as if an ancient traveler whose city has been sacked. new thoughts arrive in forms and beginnings as something that looks like a gambler's lucky streak is about to end, but never does. Oh, if this rugged reality could only find it;s own way and let the thoughts of the world be the angels that swoop--if someone only had thought of this before, this life would be easy. Cooper thinks of Suzi scanning intensely over the data sheets, her true intentions yet unknown, writing then rewriting code looking for that magic bullet algorithm. he thinks of mentors from his school days, lecturing and berating, his eyes popping with curiosity, and yet those days hold no momentous occasion for him, except for one, one of those days seem now to hold the truth, the unceremonious instant he became a man of science in the true spirit of the genetic age.

With a strong work ethic and a huge reading appetite it seems anything is possible, anything you can think of. It seems that it was no coincidence it was his teacher that drew the genetic world to its feet.It seemed that he could take endless notes from this funny little man, it seemed that he could be spoken to directly in an interchange of diligence and fame, and not feel the slightest downspesk or degradation of character by a man whose published papers had brought him fame.
And his looks were those that could attract many lovers. Not that he loved any of them. He was a solitary man. His important journey was between his ears, not between his legs. His dalliances had been a constant source of gossip. Something he hated. He yearned for one unified theory. It seemed like a simple wish, yet so far impossible to attain. His preferences constantly betrayed him. He preferred large staid institutions to the wet and dirt of places like this outpost and all its bubble wrapped quirks. He was secretly learning robot computer language. His social life was a constant digression. But as a scientist, he could have ended up working anywhere. Still young and maybe the last surviving genetic engineer of the golden age of genetics. An era of days gone by that quietly forgets. "Rosalind Franklin," he thought. "Another example of women getting screwed in the science world." And the church. "The church doesn't know anything about genetics," he thought. That thought always intrigued him too. Theologists of The World check the scientific soundness of research arguments.

Write what you believe, not what you see, that's the new Watchword Healthcare Algorithm Consortium Knowledge (W.H.A.C.K.). To write with the diction of a noble poet, now that makes you an established investigator.
It was the Outpost because he felt he could do his work here. He doesn't need the traffic of megalopolis congestion. Every code here stands on its own without the trappings of a big name university. "Shakespeare didn't need extravagant courtyards for his plays," Cooper thought. Yes, a sort of a scientific Shakespeare.

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Amidst a Swimmer's Night Sheen

The wedding of Big oil and America the Beautiful
Amidst Swimmers and Sheen

Betrothal all new golden band
Big Oil takes America's hand
Deep dark remote aesthetic plan
Defended heritage energetic land

Along coastlines real white sander
In wont of lover blue seas wander
To still a soul amidst horizon deep
Whose lovers on this rig fell asleep

In dream-like fashion bickering awakes
To center the trouble as bad turn takes
Seeps across ocean flights for power
As if rig fairies descend below the tower

Egged on by pluck in potions of greed
Lacks of regulatory to plant the seed
Simple systems pattern, curtailed curtain
Cuts in fresh doubt never more certain

Coasts love blue water her fishing and drills
Pursued by detritus in haunts and frills
As fishing and tourists seek their joy
Whether to fish or drill remains the ploy

Coastal systems now in ethics restraint
Open water adulterer brings black paint
Lovers both,coastal white and ocean blue
Find tourists and detritus now to pursue

Four lovers on the rig in wild delight
Loss of identity left night shies bright
Approach shoreline in odd shades of green
Dreams turn back amidst swimmers and sheen







Supernatural characters Oberon BP Titiana Transocean Puck (Regulatory agency) fairy servants rig workers the oil rig crew as robotic fairies
money and greed and secrecy is the potion poison and appetite for energy oil Rig

a simple system of patterned curtains

forest Gulf of Mexico painted in tons of oil

Lysander Coast Hermia Ocean fishing and oil in love
Helena is the fishing and tourists in love with the people of the Gulf south Demetrius
who are in love with drilling oil in the Gulf ocean Hermia

Coastal symbol of ethics restraint v Open waters as the wild adulterer of oil drilling and fishing

Obame is the master of revels of the land

A midsummer night's sheen
making light of the environment by applying their love potion of oil
forcing coastal dwellers to fall in love with goo, bacteria and death


oil is energy yet is dirty and dirtiesimagines itself to be needed and good
but turns out to be useless and overreated

oblivious to the dark side of big oil

Coastal and ocean escape into the deep gulf where they think they are safe

Water's power over the coastline
a carnival fairy world created by big oil company power over a nation because of lack of reservation of that nation
The four lovers in the woods v ethical structure
Gulf of Mexico the dark woods opposing ethics of American order on land
carnival and festival of big oil out on a rig v the breakdown of American ethical authority
2 voices of authority, patriarch(forgive) v monarch(punish)
Energy of oil two bodies, body natural and body mythical

loopy topsy turvy world, holiday from regulation, the discontent of control
Aquisitions, investments, v safety
pleasing narcotic dreaminess of oil technogy and rig workers at play
fairy world of big oil and its mega magical happenings
breaking down of individual identities that lent to the eruption and turn of plot
a fairy dispute is a hurricane
the lack of recognition of BP by America and of America the beautiful by BP in a relationship
The breaking down of identities that leads to the conflict
dangerous to come together because of the disregard of Nature caused by the fairy dispute
Fairy dispute=management of BP, Transocean and Halliburton crew on the rig
to mistake one set of conditions (safety) for others (greed, money, profit, aquisition on the rig
for the greater sake of greed and energy this loss of identity takes place
a type of haze through which distinction becomes impossible

Now a desire for new and more practical ties between strangers because of the haze of the catastrophe
the tidal force of social need brings energy to new and strange bedfellows
emotional energy of will v mechanical energy of oil
Ass's assumption
new identities found in community through the power of love and marriage of survival ideas
laying down an identity for the better benefit of the group
The quest to lose one's identity and find individuality in the love of another


The marriage of Duke Big Oil and Queen America the Beautiful
Set in the woodland (Gukf of Mexico) and realm of fairylan (oil rig Deep water Horizon
Coast (Lysander) and blue water for tourists and oil drilling (Hermia) elope to the Gulf and fall asleep

BP, Halliberton, Transocean, bickering
Puck is regulatory agency fairy
Magic potion of money and deadlines secrecy and greed
A band of executive mechanicals arrive to give a safety award
the rig drillers fairy blinds them with lack of regulation, greed and dividends
to forget about safety rules

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J.F.K. the Art World and Democracy

J.F.K. the Art World and Democracy

Originally Posted 11/22/2008 9:18 PM HST at my blog site at the Honolulu Advertiser, Honolulu, Hawaii. Enjoy!

November is a good time of the year to get ready for the upcoming winter, a time to brace yourself for the "cold." November 22 has a particular chill for me.

i found myself perusing the obituaries today just out of curiosity. As it turns out, today happened to be a bad day for the world of Pop Art too.

In Washington D.C. a jazz pianist composer passed on. He had played jazz in the D.C. area for 40 years. He had no penchant for recording so his live music has gone along with him. I guess you could say the same for Mozart and Beethoven.

In St. Louis we lost a poet who also had Altheimers. His live voice is gone , but he left 14 volumes of poetry. They say he was good at creating foggy boundaries and expanding readers' senses.

In Los Angeles we lost a B-movie composer who composed around 200 movie scores. Much of his work went uncredited in the genres of fantasy, science fiction, and horror in old Hollywood.

In Maryland we lost an impressionist painter. She was celebrated in New York in the 1950s for her marriage of popular and classical art, predating Andy Warhol.

In New York we lost a writer who had a flair for being both witty and critical.

In Dallas we lost a President. He had pushed for American space exploration. This required the accelerated invention of computers and the miniaturizing of their components to be small enough to fit into a cramped space capsule. These efforts would produce descendent computers that 45 years later would allow even children to practice art.. Children could embark on their own journey of creative exploration. This is the expression of a true democracy.

On November 22, I give a moment of thought. I was in marching band practice and hitting the drum for Key West High when I heard the news.

I'm not sad anymore. Kennedy's legacy sits before me on my desk, all around me in democracy, and within me as my own personal freedom to create.

Yes, November is a good time of year.

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I Always Come Home to Me

Driving by or passing through
Impartial judges to be
Far place peerless journey
Go take me out there to see
To see the world a worthy sounding goal
There the human race
Fluffy white hot this bowl in my hands
Snaps me back into place

Mid air jump the darkness in the echoes
Thrill like no other
No dangerous flower to banish try
Home is a sister and brother
As tectonic plates wait in lunch lines
I get mine with rainbows
And faces of the opposite go their own way
Still my secret destination glows

The place where my heart is served all day
In hearty helpings I've known
Environmental waivers need not apply
In these pristine waters we've grown
Call me old fashioned I like hot and toasty
Yet exclusively on beaches and waves
Something canned here it's the cream of the crop
Sunshine served so many ways

Classic are these time honored ways
A true masterpiece of sorts
No prime time for me when I chime in
Find me out there in shorts
Home style local cooked soars again
In sunny old fashion spree
Ceaseless current blue water she knows
I always come home to me

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Happy Mother's Day!

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Melatonin Darkness

Rhythm Sleep Disorder

From a pure biology view, lying flat on your back triggers (via parasympathetic nervous system) the body's relax mode. This is the only true way to rest your heart--by minimizing the pull of earth's gravity in it.
Closing your eyes into 100% darkness (if that is even possible in today's world) has been shown to induce melatonin, the hormone in your brain associated with sleep cycle.
The kicker (no pun intended) is that if you suffer from a rhythm sleep disorder, the problem lies more in your nervous system than in melatonin production.
So you need to do both.
You may also chose to experiment with natural melatonin as a supplement at your own risk (Down To Earth anybody?). Studies from MIT suggest VERY SMALL DOSAGE works best (0.3mg--0.5mg) taken as a lifestyle choice once a day with dinner. You may not see results for weeks though, because it's all about getting the rhythm back.

Hawaii Photo Poetry

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Tropical Photo Poetry

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Eire

Beyond the Misty Realm

Ancient Greek culture tumbled ashore
Upon Gaelic winds of trouble no more
Rendered this name soft and murine
Pure Ireland essence: cath Eire ine

In love of Ireland the Irish forever left
On paths taken as if a perfect gift
For want of beauty within eyes there
Setting forth upon wider world of care

By nature of journey in images to create
Proud in lore at stronghold's next gate
Out of pure love and ties of kinship
Scenes of beauty views a sailing ship

Wearing old blindfolds as travels unfold
Fear not stories Eyjafjallajokull foretold
A wilder world sets forth in angelic belle
Reliance on self bears watchtower knell

Journey the roads of true self adjustment
Literary tradition was what pride just meant
Blinders may abound in feathers of doubt
Who we are defines where we journey out

Surf warrior wave sorcerer close to hearth
Patterns joy sorrows a close held heart
Something inside leads to a place out there
Soft-hearted armors in ancient warrior care

Chief amongst those the stoutest of lands
Attracts distant hearts with soft misty hands
Allow a treatment to Eire in far off land
Even as natural resistance submits a plan

Ambivalent allegiance you make the call
Culture and travel for the fun of it all
Signify the journey to be more self aware
Inner journey travels upon outward stare

Ready willingness comes only from within
In deep solitudes and a happy little grin
From days in the sun now to country Eire
Island sparkles mountain beauty faire

Far distant place of native stone wall
Rocky terrain beyond ocean blue call
Where mists reconcile myths in harmony
Lays only in your arms for beauty to see

Offshore beckons insistence at the helm
Adventures await beyond the misty realm
Blue sky pasturage deep emerald green
Pure Ireland essence: cath Eire ine

Ireland

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Outpost 8-16

Cooper started the long walk up the rock steps to the cliff lab. He looks out across the ocean and says, "Another temporary home. I could never think of this place as different."
It happens again; the PTSD kicks in. So the great scientist looks out across the vast green sea, smug with his so-called education. So he now holds the esteemed title of lead scientist with his projected energizing manner.
It took close to four billion years for the genetic code to ravel up in this place and all that comes in is "temporary."

The lab base is an oversized fortress abandoned on the edge of a jungle. Remodeled on the inside, high tech, and of course paid for in full by the Consortium. The lab was immaculate, not in a Christian kind of way, more control freakish, but clean doesn't matter to Cooper; not now. He enters.

"Hello," Cooper says.
"Hello Dr Cooper." Suzi stays at her lab station, as if she were communicating with a space object near a black hole.

Cooper was being extra personable for a bespectacled scientist. These new digs made him easy going. Carter was already in the lab when Cooper unlocked the inner metal door.

"Suzie from Beijing came up here while you were gone," Carter told Cooper. "She's the one who interviewed for this job about five months ago," Cooper said.
"I remember her. Tall, thin, always carrying a red umbrella, rain or shine. Yeah, her complexion. She's worried about it. Pretty face. She said she's applied to a number of consortiums. She wants to work here."
"Because we're closer to Beijing?"
"No."
"No homesickness? A true woman of science."

Cooper opened a fresh stick of gum and began chewing. He considered himself a lucky man, never getting hooked on the pleasures of smoke.
"She says she's a scientist," Cooper said. "And really, there's no reason to disbelieve her. But a woman with those looks?" Cooper hesitated with a side glance. "I'm a fool to think women of science should all be Madam Curie. Has anyone else seen her transfer papers?"
"I don't think so," said Carter.
"May I see them?"
Carter stopped checking protein gels long enough to retrieve the document. . "Yeah, it's right here," he said.


Outpost#7

Cooper walks down the long stairs across the rock cliff above the lab complex, far below lies the Link Station (List).
"Another renovated oversized pill box out of our warlord past," he thinks
Dense tropical shrubbery sets the old structure into a natural camouflage against the rocky coastal terrain. He could smell the cool air of the beach below, and the ocean beyond. The view was an overload of multiple blues and greens in the midday sun. Then, in an instant, the ocean looked different. It has been, what, almost a year now, and the greens are a lighter tinge, a shade of yellow.
"Oxidation," he says.

Cooper arrives at the station and enters the front door with a single mind.
"How's the project?" A friendly girl's voice came from a screen.
Everyone here was either a scientist or a student of science. Anonymity was not easy at a science station such as this, though it had nothing but a motion activated cold screen (Macs). Cooper didn't mind, though. Everybody knew each other by link, things went smooth that way.
"It's OK," Cooper replied.
"What do you need, Dr. Cooper?"
"I need to log into the frame terminal at ComTrax."
"The array displays are down in that zone." She held her eyes there for him a little longer than usual.
A sensation rushed through Cooper. He knew that this wouldn't be easy. "I have to tell you something, and you must swear to me that you won't tell anyone."
A crooked smile came to Jamie's face."Sure, Dr. Cooper," she said.
Cooper looked her square in the eyes. "I've received transfer orders from a woman who has no record of ever being born."









Outpost 8next
Patrick Adams
Extrapolation Science Fiction -- The Outpost

Nature's Heaven
Florescent mists gather in the distance as parched granite dust clouds-from the volcanoes-pass silent to the south. Darkness settles.
The tigress rests on the mountain floor, a steamy setting of tropical thickets. Giant ferns dance nude against the wetness. Koa and Monkey Pod trees stand majestic, hopeful, now host to a silent audience, ghosts of millions of creatures who once lived here.
Suddenly, a presence is sensed in the banyan grove. The tigress discards her sleep as if instantly disrobing. A reddish gaze emerges in her eyes from deep fires. She comes out, an inspired Olympian given one chance to demonstrate her gifts. The focus of a gentle tactician in need. Moon sparkles the jungle floor through patches in the dense canopy. Her raw urge leaves no shadow against this night. Her eyes designed before glamour and gene therapy was ever invented by humans. Her sounds pure. A damp, dark place this, her nature's heaven lay, her only honest place.


Outpost9next


A heavy rain falls as tiny crystal marbles, the river is alive with hunger as gravity feeds her.
Cooper puts himself next to a window and closes his eyes hoping for the warmth of memory. He took a deep breath as he thought of his life, a life racing back to him now, like that river rushing outside.
Intelligent people don't like to kill. It's the prefrontal lobe that does the killing. The Army knows it. The problem is, the Army is guessing too. Scientists spend their entire careers trying to prove their guesses.
Cooper thought to himself, "Mystic research. People in fourth world laboratories are into that." He hoped that wasn't happening here at this military post.. He was well aware of the unseen forces. "Humans would love to have this jungle floor take on mystic powers," he thought.
There was a renewed interest in the recent discovery that anger and fear had nothing to do with the urge to kill. Pleasure before death, procreation before demise--psychologists had studied this for centuries--but his were primal thoughts, ones hoping the tigress shows again.
He is not given to pandering wild thoughts, but can't help being drawn to her aura. The tigress shows no fear, her silence sends Cooper deeper into the caverns of his own mind. This wasn't a mere trickling of information here. He would go after this data like it were an addiction, But then again,Cooper didn't want this to look like a bunch of scientific mumbo-jumbo. He had his own plan.


OUTPOST 10
The Horizon Event Reader (HER) program was operational when he got back.
Suzi flashes a smile and glances up. She says, "Are you back already? I'd wished to have these scans done by now." Cooper does not speak, at least not to Suzi. He listens to the sound of his own thoughts.
Cooper turns to Suzi, "You can stop working on that." She was glad to see Cooper.They look at each other across the opening.
"This place is always so quiet," Suzie says, and as she speaks she appears aware of her own words, their natural timbre. He's only my programmer, she thinks, but then again, after this amount of scanning, after all the hours of raw data, she wants to elicit in Cooper a special appreciation. She wants him to think, "This one's really on task, isn't it?"
Cooper is not feeling the proper mood right now, and there is no changing that, but at least by the end of this conversation he'd have gotten a few straight answers. He follows his instinct as he approaches Suzi, and as he passes the window that views the distant jungle below he feels the urge, briefly, to look, as if to gain a glimpse of the tigress. But he stays focused. Raising his head, he enters Suzi's corner lab zone. Suzi will be his window, his design, his slice of the natural world beyond human, the space where desert intelligence meets rain forest beauty.
He touches Suzi, gently, on the shoulder.






Outpost 11next
Carter picks up his gun from the lab bench, spins it Old West style. He says,
"Do you know this lab building is right over the top of an ancient burial ground?"
"Right, I recall." Cooper prefers keeping these thoughts to himself. The deep secrets that remain hidden in burial grounds etch Cooper's face and remind Carter of an old gunfighter, and he gets the feeling of a gunslinger readying, steady in stare and grip,for a real life gunfight.
He says, "There is something out there, I think. And it walks at night.
"Out there, Carter? And walks?
"We haven't been in the forest on the mountain behind the lab station at night, ever. I'd rather keep the noise pollution down, it would kill the data."
"Tracks on the coast mean there is something up there, I don't have to go on the mountain to know that."
Cooper's look became serious. "You're a plant, aren't you?"
"No, I'm human."
"Don't get cute with me. You've been placed here to test my will, haven't you?"
Carter was doing some quick thinking for being half a computer.
"I want you to tell me the truth. The government is running their own little experiment here, aren't they... American and Chinese governments are run by the same people, aren't they?"
Cooper was looking for a clue in Carter's eyes. He found nothing there.




Next

"Don't hold this against me, Cooper." Suzi says.
"What is it?"
"Sorry, I seem to have forgot you're a scientist. The last time you asked for government data, I was thinking something else, about remembering the government programmers. And i do remember those programmers. I seem to have drifted."
"The programmers haven't arrived yet."
"I get it. Please believe me, I get it. But, you know, I feel as if I drifted forward, as well. I have a clear memory of programming events that haven't happened yet. I remember their codes as if it were yesterday."
"Did they install the Founding Fathers program?"
"How do you know of that/ Of course they did."
"And did your hard drive receive it?"
"I remember taking the program. But it's possible I only planned to take it." Have you noticed any government programs iter mixed with the Biodata?"
"I haven't noticed any yet."
"Then I guess I figured a way to store it with the Physicsdata. Government programs don't really mean anything, right?"
"This government dats matters a lot, Suzi
She says,"I'm not sue I can handle it, Cooper."
"Handle what?"
"Being fast and articulate around humans. My memory places me in the center of government programmers. My biodata wavers with uncertainties, a little biorobot accepting powerful government instructions."
"Suzi, you don't need to be fat and important if you don't want to.
"Yes I do. I won this assignment to this outpost. You must know I'm here because of my speed, for being fast, not intelligent.
"Stop. You know this assignment has the markings of your knowledge. Your knowledge of the beginning and ending of the evolutionary trail."
Suzi stared at Cooper.

.
you don't know government mentality. Even the Founding American Fathers only wanted freedom for themselves, no one else. Yes, this Outpost is the perfect lab bench for the government. Don't you see? Life on earth started in these rain forests and the most intelligent humans work here. It's the beginning and end of the evolutionary trail.




Start

Cooper pulls close to the window, views the deep jungle. he thinks of his life, a scientist's dream, a window into the evolution of intelligence itself. His memories are, clearly, a powerful possession--for simple reasons, they stay with him, untouched by jungles. With each passing moment distant pictures of a wife, a family, capture a deeper hold on his thoughts.
"You don't believe they sent us here to find antibodies, do you?"
"Yes, I am simply a Biobot so I must believe that."
Cooper turns his eyes toward the jungle again, through the cool wet window. His memories seem to be shaking him now. Cooper may be at the beginning of a new approach here, as if there were now some real danger. A danger like no other, beyond beauty and intelligence itself, beyond the craft of logic he perceives in Suzi. The feeling that survival itself has the need for Cooper's expertise.
Cooper turns back and says, "I trust you. You are an intelligent woman, artificial or no."
Suzi's eyes showed nothing, and they showed everything.



You have no wife, no family. Most women bore you. You can only be intrigued by the most perfectly programmed computer."
"You?"
"Yes, me."
Cooper remembered the first time he lay eyes on Suzie. It was her beauty in the beginning. And her intelligence that kept him there.
"You yourself have said your boss is no scientist. He's a politician," Suzie said.
"I need your honest word on this, Suzie."
"I'm a robot."
Listening to Suzie, Cooper was intrigued. Her logic and insight had a craft. Her words were art in motion. The joy of logic.
"I trust you. You are an intelligent woman, artificial or no."
"What do you want from me?"
"Honesty. The truth. The same honesty I get from the tigress."
Suzie never turned red. She doesn't feel resentment. Suzie's eyes showed nothing and they showed everything.



Next
Outpost 11
Tigress never spun deception. She never had visions of God. She wasn't concerned about burning in hell. There was no faking it, no cynicism.




Dr. Cooper looks into his computer screen with solid, composed expectation. He feels, for the moment, like a wild-eyed college student at the computer lounge. His reverie vanisheshes; it is improbable to feel curiously comfortable with Suzie--she's beautiful, womanly, soft and naive about her intelligence, a selection of new generation of computers scientists and pysisists would say, She has what it takes to save the human race, she does. The science world already, secretly, has an odd feeling being closely involved with her brand of artificial intelligence. Cooper looks out the window, thinks again of his college days. He does good science, by accident; he plays god with his genetics; he runs his gels of the genetic code, far from the misery, hunger, far from the everyday stresses. He does his work. Who cares if he is neither fast nor intelligent.
"Hey," he says to Suzi. He is a littleshocked at his urge to get Suzi to speak.
"Yes," Suzi says.
"Did you get the dats? Did it come in on time?"
Suzi sits perfectly still, for a moment, as if looking nowhere. She thinks to herself. She sits at her station the way one would sit on a pew during church service.
She says, "I have to search the augmented reality maps for a few more days."
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure exactly. I have some kind of interference program."
"Damn."
"It's crept in, I think. My maternal codes."
"What?"
"My brain. I have to give myself a look."
"How?"
"I'm not sure---some impoverished childhood teacher fantasy code. ComTrax ordered it. I need you to stay silent on this."
"OK. What did they want?"
"It's only that I needed to scan it, and they need for me to tell them what I find, truthfully. It may be--what the problem has been all along. About getting the data"
"Then," Cooper says. "Then they will help you get back on task."
"They say they will make that decision. They say they want to hear my findings first."
Cooper looks at Suzi, who does not speak again.
"You're a robot. You didn't have a childhood," he says.


Cooper's mind raced to his college days. His friends always accused him of playing God with his genetics. Messing around with the genetic code.
Suzie broke her silence. "What do you want?" she asked.
"I want a normal life. A wife, children. Is that too much to ask?"
"I can't give you children, but I am somebody to talk to. And I like the way you get things done."
Truthfully, that's all Cooper really needed, someone to talk to. In fact, Suzie was the first woman he'd been able to talk to in years.
"I didn't have an impoverished childhood with teachers eliminating my fantasies in life," Suzie said.
"You're a robot. You didn't have a childhood."



next
Cooper gives Suzi a salt water injection. "You look godd today," he says.
Suzi's silicon face has always been captured by her beauty: the rounded high cheekbones and bright wide eyes; the shiney hair, soft textures of her skin. She was designed to work with young scientists, never to be aged by the passage of time.
"Thank you," Suzi says.
"It seems like you are a little disinterested."
"You know, just because I am a robot, I don't always do what I've been told."
"Really."
"Even Pavlov couldn't brainwash every one of his dogs. Some he had to castrate to get them to do what he wanted."
"Excuse me?"
"Never mind."
Cooper is shocked at Suzie's apparent sudden relaxation of censorship. But he wasn't ready for her next suggestion.
"Would you take me to church in the village this Sunday?"
"Why?"
"Because I want to know why humans go to church."
"I can tell you why. They stop wanting to listen to each other, only to God."
Suzie said nothing.

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outpost 5

Outpost#4


Nature at night smells different. It's a helpless thrill, deep down, nobody can help you. There are no awards when this battle is over--just the right to continue

Tigress appears from the shadows now. A renewed encounter, the worthy huntress. Forgotten magic responding as if to evoke religion. Beauty in pure natural motion, a ritual dance of sweet hate-- a reassuring killer instinct.

Cooper checks his weapon and thinks,"Crosshairs optical instruments used for astronomy and surveying." He locks on the tigress, intersecting lines in the shape of a cross.
"... who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge..."
He pulls the trigger.

Her ferocity was a deep contrast to the darkness of the jungle. She wouldn't have been complete without this. Her eyes held his. So young, yet ancient in her moves, holding her youth as a clever disguise.
Cooper pulls the weapon up again to aim. The inscriptions faint and subtle in raised lettering near the end of the stock number. He feels the glow of tritium, that radioactive form of hydrogen creating a light that helps.
...let light shine out of darkness,' ... give us the light of the knowledge of the glory...
He shoots again.

Cooper's mind wanders momentarily. Telescopic sights in the shape of a cross, a device associated with crosshairs. Cooper thinks of motion pictures and the media, crosshairs as a dramatic device. His memory floods back now--telescopes for polar alignment with a reticle that indicates the position of Polaris relative to the north celestial pole. Telescopes for precise measurements with filar micrometer as reticle; adjusted by the operator to measure angular distances between stars.
..."My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me."

Cooper's scanners click in automatically, "for aiming telescopes, reflex sights are used in conjunction with a telescope with a crosshair reticle. The reflex sight makes aiming the telescope on a Astronomical object or a region of the sky instant. Constellation Reticulum is designated to recognize the reticle and its contributions to astronomy."
..."blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight."

Tigress lives here. Cooper was part of it now, coaxed on by her dominance, as if finalist in a contest. A face-off with nature herself. This one moment in time, no oppressors or victors yet. Raw power the way it was intended to be. Her teeth, her only jewelry. Her smell pure, as if the jungle floor itself.

Cooper locks his weapon in again for discharge. "...blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.

Evolutionary companions don't want to be any stronger or less strong than they are at this moment. He was here for the same reason she was. ..."be not that far from me, for trouble is near; haste Thee to help me.
..I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me."

Her ferocity was a deep contrast to the darkness of the jungle. She wouldn't have been complete without this. Her eyes held his. So young, yet ancient in her moves, holding her youth as a clever disguise.
..."whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

Recognition emerges. Something in her eyes. She has the primitive wild gene, the one lost in a century of cloning. The xEVEo project.
Cooper locks his weapon in for one final shot. "Every living substance that I have made will I destroy,,,"

Hawaii Photo Poems

Hawaii Photo Poems

Tropical Photo Poetry

All Boats

...stare not as time toils
for a watched pot never boils
care not as age gloats
for your rising tide lifts all boats...

Over the Falls

This smokey "Over the Falls Burger" happens quick and
fills you with lots of vitamin Sea...

1 lb. hamburger
1/2 fresh or sun dried tomato, carved
2 heaping T. ketchup (catsup)
1/8 c French onion soup mix
2 cloves garlic, mashed
1 large raw whole egg, dropped in
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 bread slices, ripped
1/8 c garlic roasted macadamia nuts, crushed

1. In a large bowl, use your (washed) hands to mix all
ingredients together and form into patties.
2. Add patties to a heated grill pan over medium heat
3. Cover and cook, turning once or twice 8 to 10 minutes
4. When firm to touch, serve hot on a sweet roll.

Surfer Burger

check out the Jamie Oliver food revolution

Surfer Burger

parsnip turnip parsley
bread crumb tomato sauce eggs
black pepper
bell pepper celery ketchup
onion soup mix beef broth and caramelized onion
carrot
dijon mustard
freshly ground black pepper
think quick surfer burger
red pepper flakes
Greek oregano mint family
basil pizza thyme parsnips Thanks giving
tomato
roasted sesame seeds
parsley
green or red bell peppers
both sides broth
garlic macadamias crushed



This smokey "Over the Falls Burger" happens quick and
fills you with lots of vitamin Sea...

1 lb. hamburger
1/2 fresh or sun dried tomato diced
2 heaping T. ketchup (catsup)
1/8 c French onion soup mix
2 cloves garlic, mashed
1 large raw whole egg
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 hand torn slices of bread
1/8 c garlic roasted macadamia nuts, crushed

1. In a large bowl, use your (washed) hands to mix all
ingredients together and form into patties.
2. Add patties to a heated grill pan over medium heat
3. Cover and cook turning once or twice 8 to 10 minutes
4. When firm to touch, serve hot on a sweet roll.

Outpost#3

A rustle in the tall Banyan quickens the heart amidst the distant echo of giant trees. Haunched in the shadows, new perceptions open to faint percussive sounds along the jungle floor.

In an instant she is there. She is a young creature less than a year old, her scent exotic pheromones, a prelude to heated battle, beyond sensual. Her nakedness didn't matter to the jungle. Blood in the shadows were primal to her survival against any intruder of territory. Claws razor sharp, and white teeth the only discernible signals, if a signal at all. Her athletic musculature contorts, eyes embroiling for attack. A noble beast imbedded with nature's most direct order. Tonight she carries the sound of the hunter-silence.

Deliberate in keeping her teeth shown and her claws erect, the final solution of survival,directed by gene expression, arrives.

No time exists now. Instinctive hormonal rage, this meeting at an inevitable crossroad of the evolutionary trail. She is art in motion. Fine tuned by eons of genetic connections, and intrinsic balance between available oxygen and gravitational detriment. She had nothing to learn. Her skills were all there. The same genes offered by the very trees that hid her and--the ones given her by someone, or something else.

Her eyes shift now, looking for a passionate kill. There would be no division of urge by this ancient directive in pure focus. Tonight it would be kill or be killed.

Tropical Photo Poetry

Hawaii Photo Poems

Reality TV

Remember " The Blair Witch Project," a little 1999 horror film of amateur footage shot in real time? It had no studio actors, no studio script, so studio cameras, and (you guessed it) no studio money.

The initial outlay was around $25,000 with about another $450,000 needed for mainstream release; the gross was well over $300,000,000.

Who did "The Blair Witch Project" frighten the most? The motion picture industry. It taught what even they didn't know at the time: the scariest thing about a horror movie is the audience. Enter reality TV...

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Outpost #2

Inside the lab station, Dr. Cooper feels the pressures of the day mount. “Just an urge,” he thinks. The directive of ancient genes skillfully crafted by unknown forces.
Training had prepared him for gene mechanics, but something was different here. Genetic codes, DNA, gene expression, and proteins of primal genes usually follow predictable patterns in gel boxes. He looks again.
“Tamperings." This would be the last word to emerge from his consciousness for awhile.

Cooper looks over at Suzi, in sleep mode for the night. Why is she so remote, so distant, so inner directed as if preoccupied with her own Abysma program? For the past week--and mostly today--Suzi's photovoltaic tints are a sharper blue. Her scanners focused a little more. Auras drift, sporadically, from her lab bench. For a second he wants to check her monitors--not to doubt her day's activity, he could never do that--but to free himself from the laboratory, to be free to go outside again, into the jungle, even for a moment.

The back door of the research station opens into the night. Cooper steps out, feels the cool chill and follows an ancient trail through the glade of Banyans leading beyond to the mountain. There are no tracks this low in the jungle. He wouldn't find them until he was further up the mountain.

Smooth mists lift off the tops of the jungle canopy into a clear moonlit night. The shadow of the lab building fades as Cooper makes his way further into the the darkness. He hears no life in the trees. Only the song of distant waterfalls and the wispy sound of the wind. As a coolness settles onto the shadows, the jungle floor darkens again.

Tropical Photo Poems

Hawaii Photo Poems

Hawaii Photo Poems

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Sam Adams Patriot

Hawaii Photo Poetry

Outpost #4

For centuries this tropical canopy stared down at her perfect hiding place as if to bow in approval at her own handy work.
Eyes may watch but life never waits.
Giant Banyan vines hang as live wire, now dead, drag in the dirt stillness of jungle floor.

Her ancient hanging gardens, escape hatches for creatures with an opposable thumb who knew what to do when danger approaches.

The prefrontal lobe, Nature's precursor to intelligence, a worthy weapon. reliable in an ancient age when danger was still perceivable.
Genes answered questions and gave solutions. Uncountable ravelings and unravelings of the Double Helix, billion years in the making.
Time honored offerings by unseen forces, hidden gatekeepers. Passage into the future the reward. This jungle leaves no residue of death. At first light evidence is gone. As if death never happened. The perfect crime.



Outpost#2done


Inside the lab station, Dr. Cooper feels the pressures of the day mount. “Just an urge,” he thinks. The directive of ancient genes skillfully crafted by unknown forces.
Training had prepared him for gene mechanics, but something was different here. Genetic codes, DNA, gene expression, and proteins of primal genes usually follow predictable patterns in gel boxes. He looks again.
“Tamperings." This would be the last word to emerge from his consciousness for awhile.

Cooper looks over at Suzi, in sleep mode for the night. Why is she so remote, so distant, so inner directed as if preoccupied with her own Abysma program? For the past week--and mostly today--Suzi's photovoltaic tints are a sharper blue. Her scanners focused a little more. Auras drift, sporadically, from her lab bench. For a second he wants to check her monitors--not to doubt her day's activity, he could never do that--but to free himself from the laboratory, to be free to go outside again, into the jungle, even for a moment.

The back door of the research station opens into the night. Cooper steps out, feels the cool chill and follows an ancient trail through the glade of Banyans that lead beyond to the mountain. There are no tracks this low in the jungle. He wouldn't find them until he was further up the mountain.

Smooth mists lift off the tops of the jungle canopy into a clear moonlit night. The shadow of the lab building fades as Cooper makes his way into the the darkness. He hears no life in the trees. Only the song of distant waterfalls and the wispy sound of the wind. As a coolness settles onto the shadows, the jungle floor darkens again.





Outpost#3done

A push of simplicity

Desire is prelude to heated battle. She is a young creature. Less than a year old,

A rustle in the tall Banyan just ahead quickens the heart amidst this echo the giant trees.
Haunched in the shadows perceptions open percussive sounds on the jungle floor as if expecting an approach.
In an instant she was there, her scent exotic. pheromones prelude a heated battle.
She was a young creature less than a year old,
, the sound of the hunter is silence. For centuries, the tropical canopy remains the perfect hiding placee for eyes to watch and wait.


Remnants of Earth's Forests and her ancient hanging gardens, escape hatches . The prefrontal lobe, Nature's invention, the precursor to intelligence itself, a worthy weapon. Reliable in an age when danger was still perceivable. Genes answered questions and gave solutions. Uncountable ravelings and unravelings of the Double Helix, at least for billion years in the making. Time honored offerings by unseen forces, hidden gatekeepers. Passage into the future the reward. This jungle leaves no residue of death. At first light evidence is gone. As if death never happened. The perfect crime.


Dr. Cooper trusted science in his own hands, pre-engineered gene expression. A worthy opponent on a primeval battleground, he sensed everything. Anything she offered, he could answer.

Outpost#3 done

A rustle in the tall Banyan quickens the heart amidst the distant echo of giant trees. Haunched in the shadows, new perceptions open to faint percussive sounds along the jungle floor. Expect an approach.

In an instant she is there. She is a young creature less than a year old, her scent exotic pheromones, a prelude to heated battle, beyond sensual. Her nakedness didn't matter to the jungle. Blood in the shadows were primal to her survival against any intruder of territory. Claws razor sharp, and white teeth the only discernible signals, if a signal at all. Her athletic musculature contorts, eyes embroiling for attack. A noble beast imbedded with nature's most direct order. Tonight she carries the sound of the hunter-silence.

Deliberate in keeping her teeth shown and her claws erect, the final solution of survival, directed by gene expression, arrives.

No time exists now. Instinctive hormonal rage, this meeting at an inevitable crossroad of the evolutionary trail. She is art in motion. Fine tuned by eons of genetic connections, and intrinsic balance between available oxygen and gravitational detriment. She had nothing to learn. Her skills were all there. The same genes offered by the very trees that hid her and--the ones given her by someone, or something else.

Her eyes shift now, looking for a passionate kill. There would be no division of urge by this ancient directive in pure focus. Tonight it would be kill or be killed.





Outpost#4done


Nature at night smells different. It's a helpless thrill, deep down, nobody can help you. There are no awards when this battle is over--just the right to continue

Tigress appears from the shadows now. A renewed encounter, the worthy huntress. Forgotten magic responding as if to evoke religion. Beauty in pure natural motion, a ritual dance of sweet hate-- a reassuring killer instinct.

Cooper checks his weapon and thinks,"Crosshairs optical instruments used for astronomy and surveying." He locks on the tigress, intersecting lines in the shape of a cross.
"... who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge..."
He pulls the trigger.

Her ferocity was a deep contrast to the darkness of the jungle. She wouldn't have been complete without this. Her eyes held his. So young, yet ancient in her moves, holding her youth as a clever disguise.
Cooper pulls the weapon up again to aim. The inscriptions faint and subtle in raised lettering near the end of the stock number. He feels the glow of tritium, that radioactive form of hydrogen creating a light that helps.
...let light shine out of darkness,' ... give us the light of the knowledge of the glory...
He shoots again.

Cooper's mind wanders momentarily. Telescopic sights in the shape of a cross, a device associated with crosshairs. Cooper thinks of motion pictures and the media, crosshairs as a dramatic device. His memory floods back now--telescopes for polar alignment with a reticle that indicates the position of Polaris relative to the north celestial pole. Telescopes for precise measurements with filar micrometer as reticle; adjusted by the operator to measure angular distances between stars.
..."My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me."

Cooper's scanners click in automatically, "for aiming telescopes, reflex sights are used in conjunction with a telescope with a crosshair reticle. The reflex sight makes aiming the telescope on a Astronomical object or a region of the sky instant. Constellation Reticulum is designated to recognize the reticle and its contributions to astronomy."
..."blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight."

Tigress lives here. Cooper was part of it now, coaxed on by her dominance, as if finalist in a contest. A face-off with nature herself. This one moment in time, no oppressors or victors yet. Raw power the way it was intended to be. Her teeth, her only jewelry. Her smell pure, as if the jungle floor itself.

Cooper locks his weapon in again for discharge. "...blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.

Evolutionary companions don't want to be any stronger or less strong than they are at this moment. He was here for the same reason she was. ..."be not that far from me, for trouble is near; haste Thee to help me.
..I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me."

Her ferocity was a deep contrast to the darkness of the jungle. She wouldn't have been complete without this. Her eyes held his. So young, yet ancient in her moves, holding her youth as a clever disguise.
..."whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

Recognition emerges. Something in her eyes. She has the primitive wild gene, the one lost in a century of cloning. The xEVEo project.
Cooper locks his weapon in for one final shot. "Every living substance that I have made will I destroy,,,"





Outpost#5

A long time ago, Coop learned from his teachers.. He even remembers his professors who taught him the scientific method. As a student, his belief in God wanted exponentially as he progressed in his training. He always thought it curious that most of his professors went to church with their families on Sunday. His grasp of Latin and Greek roots as he studied always amused him. He knew the pitfalls of razzle dazzle and glitter and early on despised politics. He became an advocate of truth in science. The bright lights of the big cities never held a grip on him, either. The quirk of language interested him. “People would have to be entranced to go into an entrance,” he mused. He loved language, a new requisition of our prefrontal lobe. He always knew of his intrigue with anti-logic, urges without rationale. He liked walking the streets of Palo Alto after the lights were off. He always liked the opposite of fun, Purposely giving his talkative friends the creeps by his instinctive silence. As a small boy he liked animals but was more intrigued by the dark woods nearby where real critters lived, the squirrels and chipmunks. But this tonight was the dark wood he knew was our there. The one his little farm friends could never live in. Except Smoky, his farm cat.



Cooper started the long walk up the rock steps to the lab building. He had always wanted to be the lead investigator. Now, as the lead scientist, he projected an energizing maner. It had taken close to four billion years for the genetic code to ravel up in this place. Breaking the code had come in due time. He remembered someone famous had said, “Everything in its place and time.” The lab was immaculate. The building resembled an undersized fortress abandoned on the edge of a jungle. Remodeled on the inside, high tech, and of course paid for in full by the Science Consortium. Cooper was already personable for a bespectacled scientist. These new digs made him easy going.




Carter was already in the lab when Cooper unlocked the heavy metal door.

“Suzie from Beijing cam up here while you were gone,” Carter told Cooper.

“She's the one who interviewed for this job about five months ago,” Cooper said. “I remember her. Tall, thin, always carrying a red umbrella, rain or shine. Yeah, her complexion. She's worried about it. Pretty face. She said she's applied to a number of mainland universities. She wants to work here.”

“Because we're close to Beijing?”

“Did she leave her number?”

“No.”

“No phone number? That's strange coming from a woman of science.”

“And she's not on the Main Frame, either, but she's gor a campus boxy where you can reach her if you need to,” said Carter.

Cooper opened a fresh stick of gum and began chewing. He considered himself a lucky man, never getting hooked on the pleasure of smoke.

“She says she's a scientist,” Cooper said. “And really, there's no reason to disbelieve her. But a woman with those looks?” Cooper hesitated with a side glance. “I'm a fool to think women


Page 8

Outpost #1

The Outpost

Cooper hurries along the path to the muffled sounds of the jungle.
"A feeble attempt to supply answers," he thought
For a moment the air clears along with his thoughts. Those years at corporate. What a joke in this mud, Passion for science? Drenching pain drives him up the hill.
"Strange bedfellows," he thought
His mind told him nothing was on the jungle trail now, not at this hour, in this rain. At least nothing that doesn't prowl.
“Opposable thumb,” he thought as he shook his soaked hands. This appendage allows him to climb to safety from the jungle floor? "Not tonight I hope," Cooper thought.

The sound of the hunter is silence. Genes answer the question, as if to break silences of unseen forces with eyes.
This jungle leaves no residue of death. At first light the evidence would be gone, as if death never happened, or birth for that matter. Survival of the fittest is just a manifestation, a dream, a temporary presentation like so many pharmaceutical sales pitches back home.
Cooper grips his rifle tight hurrying faster now. Tonight survival becomes personal.

Urges come as no surprise to Suzie. In nature there is a trigger...length of day for leaf abscission, circadian rhythms in insects. Suzie requires only the light of the day. The beauty in her face, the colors a simple manifestation of photovoltaic cells. The difference is in the heart of the sheen for Suzie. She feels no pressure building from within. No urge, feather light.
Suzie knew it as the directive of an ancient gene skillfully crafted by a long forgotten force that once visited. Their Genetic code, DNA double helix. Gene expression but not for Suzie.

The jungle is more beautiful at night. The cool dampness of the jungle floor. The lack of color. He knew all about what was hiding just above the jungle floor. Waiting for only him alone.

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Uncle Tam's Cabin

Uncle Tam's Cabin

Let's trigger this thing to get out the votes
For bigger and better double standards to loathe
Great smiles with poignant political perceptions
Triumphantly choosing entitlement receptions

One law to abide for common people in silence
Another of spending in frolics of noncompliance
Patient, long suffering, and forgiving are we
We're the kind folks who voted you to office Hawaii

All in favor of a ban of stinky folks in buses
Raise your right hand as family complicity fusses
Do we knowingly stay and work to pay taxes?
Only to furnish colorful dishes to battle axes

If runaway spending could testify as a citizen
Harboring or assisting would be a fugitive politician
Was it directly related to some council duty?
Or business associates family members of beauty

Restore in us all the true meaning of entitlements
That the world owes us a living for all our embattlements
It's expensive to conduct city business virtually
Justify the expense will come to defense eventually

Take a mandatory nap compliments of Rob
Forget evil morality or stealing on the job
Those redeeming possibilities of stepping down
Seems even more intriguing it's now the talk of the town

There are outrages that separate good people from bad
Separating politicians from the public trust they had
Leave behind some ethical structural model to unfurl
Will we ever be taken seriously in our marshmallow world?

Only we the people can author our own authority
And try to save America from political audacity
Retrieve the moral power and sanctity of public citizen
As this era of office holders becomes a social denizen

Truth lies in the death of honesty in government
Makes us cry as if to wonder what our lover meant
Be a hero now and change the view of Hawaiian politic
These cultures of spending have got to go away quick

Spending held captive by political slave master
How will we ever avoid this upcoming disaster
Transform yourself now stand up for your journey
Take the next step sir councilman step down in a hurry

So carefree sexy spending for a Valentines romance
Too eager to please a hungry family's business dance
Bowing down to the dinner check with ill gotten funds
Unintended costs over Chinatown crime prevention guns

Yes we thought you were who we wanted you to be
Now newly reported notations face a possibility
Justified, dismissed, and diminished this may be
Still remains our image of who we thought you would be

How much more longer to wear these blinders must we
The fraud in your corner out of fear couldn't see
Thankful to someone for removing our blinders are we
Face yourself now Uncle Tam, step down, set yorself free

When fancy talk gets relieved of its duty
Living your life becomes you as a beauty
Congratulations to you on coming to where you are
But your journey is not over now, not by far

Your pattern of deciet and good days are numbered
If only somebody could have counted to a hundred
We thought you to be one of the good guys we depend
Embark on your journey Rod you can still be the man

You can finish it standing at your personal ground zero
No better do the right thing step down be the hero
Passive resistance is only part of this thing
How much longer can you listen to your phone ring?

We know something inside you led you there
First embarked on your journey you really did care
Always been attracted to those freebie things?
To you, who you are and what you are worth is king

We voted you in but not to your chosen persuit
Conformed wishes left you in that dapper suit
We gave you our trust you had your own voice
Your spending held captive by a political choice

Why should we care if you feel bad about this?
Start a new journey by stepping down, off with a kiss
Prior approval for your impropriety now needs to be
So we invite you now on that inner journey go see

You can settle this complaint Mr council man
Now this other little journey must be part of your plan
A run for congress or Governor's seat
Michael Jackson said it best, now it you must beat

So trigger it now light that good flame
Constituents forgive we're not fast to blame
So the next move is yours and we won't trouble you more
Just please stand up and walk down that ramp out the door

And about that chattered talk you said were allegations
Fancy talk has a way to damn the greatest of nations
Spending accepts its fate and just continue on as usual
Listening to someone other than yourself for perusal

Take us to task even make us now sing
Sometimes even councilmen needs counseling
So many others hear and see these words
You have to do something besides a few blurbs

Through smelly little naps or a mandatory snack
You have to believe us we had your back
To be ready and willing you have to hear it from within
Come on please now take that journey get in

We trust you didn't here footsteps not even a sound
Just say no when the next one comes around
Maybe public education can ask you about the economy
You can chair a seat in the zone then put on a comedy

The possibilities are endless like the crime in Chinatown
Where they may less than the amount charged put down
No greater satisfaction than helping the homeless
You can dedicate your life to those with boneheadedness

Next Valentines Day you can make it to the ball
Even pick up the phone and return a call
We are left with one fact and that's for you to get traction
And allow us to follow you and railroad your action

We know you see the gravity in this seat that got hot
You liked gravity's pull to your favorite dining spot
To follow up with a little action now connect the dots
Even out and holding that sign, we loved you lots

Now whimsical stubbornness can't get you far
Thoughts of governors and mayors drive away far
You can go back to the old way try to do it if you can
Think about it Ron, as we now hold a grown man's hand

Characterizations defined as fitting into racist norms
Cast within the apologetics of oncoming storms
Stripped of your strength in that little think tank
Your capacity to irritate rankles the file and rank

Yes councilmen need a little counsel time happening
Who opposes illegals swimming and city workers napping?
Snacking with homeless smells can't ride the bus
Whoever really cares about all that fuss?

Uncle Tam you understand gravity but will you act on it?
We have all created an image of who we wanted to sit
We know you have been long suffering in that little trance
To listen to your phone ring without passive resistance

We forgive you for we know we were the ones that voted you in
It's really not your fault go ahead have a little grin
Understand gravity and the weight of the complaint
Your dining out feeding frenzy makes us all faint

Order up now but stop feeding your friends
With stolen money you might get them in trouble again
Now they too have to distance themselves from you
Under crush of your faith in your entitlement boo boo

Your pattern of misuse renews the resolve
You can still be a hero you can show us up all
Do the right thing, step down take a minute
It's for the better, and you'll be a better man for it

Cherry Super Ferry

Disparity's Dignified Charity in Stigmatized Thunder

Inaction upon auction comes in tones glitzed down
Disposable diaspora powers and sparks out on the town
Ability eyes where action defies those once stigmatized
In bits and pieces art rise to expectation's surprised

Left to stand alone fear of the grown grows into a growl
lesson is sure nothing remains pure as the ambitious night owl
Passing through a ritual now fastened to a many-sided face
To leave it alone to find a home leaves this jail of darkness in place

How strong the character to encroach on diners of cockroach crackers
In understandable lies the living tries and ends up becoming hackers
Discrepancies unfold in the mix of those bold enough to do what was told
Expected of them out on a whim a whipper snappers grin grabs hold

Procrastination's prize so noble sits you in a bubble's world of hurt
Prolong the need to act on the seeds of doubt to shout out and blurt
To not make the cut even though the rut runs deep under and afoot
Arrival at mercy left greed's agreement so thirsty for thunder soot

Bear it down now to truths to be found what grows and is grown
That war inside shows in your eyes comes in any size hand sown
Symptoms in synapses smirk with delight into a night of simple melees
Manifest a bee hive where swarms thrive to fester the best sympathies

Inside the coffee houses of pain with so much to gain are your latest projects
Cult of guilt rock and tilt from a perch on shouters of prophets
To profit anew as fear ripples through as quirky jellyfish nations make landfall
Rectitudes defend where doohickies and gaps pretend and take up the mantle

The hit man of motherhood would try if it could oh by the way it can't
Allow yourself the gift to get over that rift in rectal bells of harmony
Lemons to lemonade the lionized maid of utilitarian urbane
You can do it come on and spew it hey this is really good stuff

Environments call to leap to its mother lode boundary
Crookedness rears an ugly head heeded straight to a foundry
A greater royalty lies in the disguise of the utilitarian urbane
A secret star rises to bounce a new fate so mundane

Responsibility's impossibility heads once again for the gate
Does action wait for no one to drop their treasured veil of hate?
Bridles so sweet in sweets of travail of mercy's majestic magic
A ripple of fever tortures silence inside a room with a view of the tragic

A tortoise of self sets aside a shelf of growth as diaspora din disappears
Signature tricks come in variety kicks to burden irritation's inactivated spears
So articulate the pain as it casts its mind in storied stone and grain
Frailty's fatality is the act of letting you out of jail all alone once again

The thunder of inaction is one bird in traction droppings its tendencies
Tend to see beyond the seas in impartiality's mail order cupcake freebies
Has what it takes sequenced the consequence laid bare before all?
Cloaked by clouds and all in satisfaction of artifact in fact through the crack they still fall

Venus with her clouds all shrouded in a lover's fancy camp of sorts
Dilemma is a mama squeezed tight for a fit of miniskirts and shorts
On which part of your little plant is it not well to sit?
Those ensemble looks grade on a daily basis to chomp at the bit

Assembled and cooked up by impact dresses to thrill
Parading and berating shows the way or so you think it will
My spent time on earth approaches now as only a blink
Go for it head out for the gate even not knowing it's too late to think

Crooked and fried cowed coworkers smirky and snide retailers and readers take
Converging in kitchens let's all just pitch in and stand up to bake proverbial cake
In ensembles of soft cloud even tragedy strikes dear not far from fear
No matter how you cut it outside the sign says,"No crying, trying required here."

Rift Valley Blues

Hinamatsuri no aisatsu...


Talking Mounted Tension and Rift Valley Blues

Was it so long ago we happened upon each other
Just yesterday happy in fun and sunny weather
Somehow our love and best days just faded away
So long ago memories still hold a tribute to pay

Youth connects and interacts to fight for attention
On that journey of life, self discovery gets little mention
Collisions so gentle hit it off eventful right on the nose
Watering our fragile little gardens with a big fire hose

Perceptions from the past adjusted by time's deal breakers
In the stillness of night our loving arms fought as only love takers
What might have been still can be, I never could hear clocks tick
Eternal flame triggers from deep within signaled by a facebook click

Outside soul searcher can you please tell me the time this time?
Was blindness blindsided by a blind spot inside my mind?
Love and bouquets had their say in their own talkative way
There's that look your lovers shook off, hope to shake it some day

My ready and willing sound only you found thought sent off to a trash bin
Stays warm inside where surprises still hide and come out from within
In this danger I slide as my stupor flies on those sweet wings of your whim
Should I glide over by your side and try to get another grin in?

My mind wonders and wanders what should I do, continue to click through?
Ask for another friend request like the day we met the day you said yes I do
Then as now I step back to see somehow between us hasn't changed tally
Feeling remorse quiet thoughts ride a horse on mounting tension's rift valley

Love's temper tantrums once tampered with urges to splurge and apologize
Once again those eyes so long ago can disguise am I one of those nice guys?
You were a good choice such a nice voice may I ask your horn sound revival?
Hearts seek to be as lovers urge on to deal more with hunger than survival

Fending off others those lovers who went south fast saddled up to the wind
Can all those little things once we spattered really now matter from within?
Dedicate your life to be kind, hesitate your strife that urges to be blind
It's not about you any more its about me and all those chores left behind

The bread crumbs I leave on the trail for them to find will serve as enough
Nothing really matters except action and patter with no need to feel tough
When first made a fist twists anger's wrist the depths saw my shadow side
Still do I get it in life we can't quit if only to see reflections looking inside

Go out and give, don't wait for what life brings or whatever may not
So feel true remorse think quiet thoughts ride tribute's horse to a trot
Take a little action get some traction somewhere out there songs will ring
She once heartened heart strings among other things now quietly go sing

Obama

The Obama phenomena was timely. We consider him a "favorite son," but many of us showed up in person to exercise our freedom as Americans. Some forces at play admittedly were reactionary against the incumbent political party, much as it had been in 1972 against Nixon.

The difference is that, even in Hawaii, today's political world is becoming more corporate, (witness "the Akaka bill," a proposal to incorporate "Hawaiian Indians"), and corporate "reality" is created by agreements at a meeting.

Two years ago a stand against the Republican Party could be regarded as a vote against a burgeoning U.S. military-Iraq oil corporate consortium spearheaded by an increasingly inarticulate president.

The Obama phenomena was the appearance of an articulate man who could run a meeting in the spirit of debate.
That was what we needed at the time.

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