‘Several centuries after this, another colonial outpost from the Rigel sector found us. We welcomed them here, as we are an inclusive people. However, it turned out that they desired this planet only for themselves, and were determined to fight for it. It was their claim that they had previously inhabited this planet, but that it had been left many thousands of years before we arrived, and that they had simply returned to their old haunt, so to speak. We didn’t buy that story, since we had nowhere seen evidence of any former habitation of any sort during the centuries since we had landed. We tried to reason with them and to settle a peace agreement with them, but in the middle of the talks they attacked some of our defenceless villages, destroying everything. After that, we had no choice but to fight. We didn’t have the means to get off-planet then.
‘It was a hard war, but we won it – but only just. Those Rigellians who remained after the war, and still wished to settle here, were forced to settle in places we hadn’t already urbanised. They received some of the best land the planet had to offer.
‘Unfortunately, we quickly found that sharing the planet with them would not be easy. There were just simply too many things of importance to us that they did not – and still do not – understand.
‘For one, we learnt early on that they have no real sense of organisation. Oh, each of their villages had a ‘political’ leader who protected the village when necessary, but beyond that, each household worked as a closed system. However, do not make the mistake of treating them as individuals, because if you attack one, you attack all of them. They have this deeply ingrained sense of loyalty that ensures that they protect one another – even if, as we would see it, one of the individuals deviates from the intergalactic code of moral or ethical behaviour.
‘Apparently, back in the Rigel sector, their society devolved from the intergalactic society it once was. Amongst other things, they became feudal, always waging war with those they disagreed with. This accounts for the self-preservation behaviour in the shape of the intense loyalty that we have observed. These behaviours also made them xenophobic, unable to coexist with other cultures and ideas. Another change was that, over the centuries, they forgot about science – except that of flying spacecraft and using weapons – to such an extent that they no longer recognise basic scientific concepts. Chief of these is the fact that they do not believe that they can be killed by things they cannot see. If they cannot see it, it does not exist. Therefore trying to educate them about viruses and germs that multiply in waste is often a – waste of time.
Saturday, 19 June 2010
Friday, 18 June 2010
What's in a Name? (Part 3)
Quietly, and with dignity, the rotund man climbed down off the crate, picked it up, and walked over to the Stranger. ‘Good day, good sir. I see you are not from here. Are you from there?’
Assuming that by ‘there’ this short man meant Kensurit, the Stranger replied, ‘No, I am not from ... ‘there’, as you put it. But I would like to know more about what troubles you. I have observed that this is an interesting urban development, and I am here to learn more about yourselves.’
‘Well, then,’ the middle-aged man smiled, ‘You’re speaking to just the right person. My name is Alsyn-Marks. Welcome to Magdar. Do come with me, my dear fellow, and I will take you to my house, where you can sample my lady’s hospitality. There, I will share more with you.’
On the verandah outside his home, and having seen the Stranger comfortably settled into his chair with a cool beverage, Alsyn-Marks seated himself into the matching padded red chair, and began to relate the story.
‘Several thousands of years ago this planet was discovered by the Alsyn brothers. They came from one of the Denebian colonies that settled around Arcturus. They surveyed it, and found it to be suitable for our people. So they returned to their home-planet, gathered together many colonists, and moved out here. They brought everything they had, so as to start life over. This town, Magdar, was named after one of the other settlers, an old fighter pilot from the Shane Wars. You may have recognised the name? (the Stranger shook his head.)
‘Oh well. Anyway. This was one of the first places to be settled, and everything went well for many years. The population grew from the original five hundred thousand to several millions in that period, and we (when I say ‘we’ I mean my people – many centuries ago) spread out over the whole planet. Life was good, and we were each able to pursue our careers unhindered. There was a form of overall government, but it was largely for the purposes of ensuring that no-one was short on necessaries.
‘Then the Dark Times came. Some of our settlements hadn’t been neutralising their non-biodegradable waste, and a plague caused by some virus that grew in the waste ensued. Soon it spread through the entire planet, and decimated our population to several hundred thousand individuals. That was a very dark time indeed.
Assuming that by ‘there’ this short man meant Kensurit, the Stranger replied, ‘No, I am not from ... ‘there’, as you put it. But I would like to know more about what troubles you. I have observed that this is an interesting urban development, and I am here to learn more about yourselves.’
‘Well, then,’ the middle-aged man smiled, ‘You’re speaking to just the right person. My name is Alsyn-Marks. Welcome to Magdar. Do come with me, my dear fellow, and I will take you to my house, where you can sample my lady’s hospitality. There, I will share more with you.’
On the verandah outside his home, and having seen the Stranger comfortably settled into his chair with a cool beverage, Alsyn-Marks seated himself into the matching padded red chair, and began to relate the story.
‘Several thousands of years ago this planet was discovered by the Alsyn brothers. They came from one of the Denebian colonies that settled around Arcturus. They surveyed it, and found it to be suitable for our people. So they returned to their home-planet, gathered together many colonists, and moved out here. They brought everything they had, so as to start life over. This town, Magdar, was named after one of the other settlers, an old fighter pilot from the Shane Wars. You may have recognised the name? (the Stranger shook his head.)
‘Oh well. Anyway. This was one of the first places to be settled, and everything went well for many years. The population grew from the original five hundred thousand to several millions in that period, and we (when I say ‘we’ I mean my people – many centuries ago) spread out over the whole planet. Life was good, and we were each able to pursue our careers unhindered. There was a form of overall government, but it was largely for the purposes of ensuring that no-one was short on necessaries.
‘Then the Dark Times came. Some of our settlements hadn’t been neutralising their non-biodegradable waste, and a plague caused by some virus that grew in the waste ensued. Soon it spread through the entire planet, and decimated our population to several hundred thousand individuals. That was a very dark time indeed.
Thursday, 17 June 2010
What's in a Name? (Part 2)
‘Who wants to be called ‘Kensurit’? We want nothing to do with them,” cried the red-faced, rotund man from his position on top of a fish-packing crate. This alone, in the middle of the town square, was incongruous, since – as everyone knows – Madgar was miles away from any fishing grounds. Even stranger was the fact that quite a large crowd had gathered around the vocal individual – and they appeared to be mostly in agreement with him. This observation was supported by the roar of approval the Stranger heard as he entered the square.
The orator drew in his breath for another enunciation, but did not complete his action as a ‘clip-clop, clippity clop’ was clearly heard in the silence. As one, the crowd turned around to fact the north-east corner of the square, and watched as a four-legged creature came into sight. It was quite tall, with a long tail, a bullet-shaped head on a long neck, and long hair down the back of its neck. The noise they had heard was the sound of it’s hooves on the cobbles. All eyes in the square silently observed the unfortunate beast headed straight for the fountain in the centre of the square, and the luscious green plants that surrounded it.
‘This is the limit! Now their animals roam our streets with no consideration for our rights,’ the orator seized the opportunity provided him. ‘I warn you – if they change our name, we will become …”
‘Who dares to question the rulers,’ a deep voice issued from a window high above the Stranger’s head. ‘They have spoken, and we will ALL obey. Back to work. I want no more of these protest meetings!’
With some dark mutterings, and an occasional ‘He’s just in their pay!’, ‘He’s with THEM – that will do us no good!’, and even ‘I’m going to leave this place if he stays here!’ the crowd dispersed. Finally, there was only the Stranger and the man on the fishing crate left in the square.
The orator drew in his breath for another enunciation, but did not complete his action as a ‘clip-clop, clippity clop’ was clearly heard in the silence. As one, the crowd turned around to fact the north-east corner of the square, and watched as a four-legged creature came into sight. It was quite tall, with a long tail, a bullet-shaped head on a long neck, and long hair down the back of its neck. The noise they had heard was the sound of it’s hooves on the cobbles. All eyes in the square silently observed the unfortunate beast headed straight for the fountain in the centre of the square, and the luscious green plants that surrounded it.
‘This is the limit! Now their animals roam our streets with no consideration for our rights,’ the orator seized the opportunity provided him. ‘I warn you – if they change our name, we will become …”
‘Who dares to question the rulers,’ a deep voice issued from a window high above the Stranger’s head. ‘They have spoken, and we will ALL obey. Back to work. I want no more of these protest meetings!’
With some dark mutterings, and an occasional ‘He’s just in their pay!’, ‘He’s with THEM – that will do us no good!’, and even ‘I’m going to leave this place if he stays here!’ the crowd dispersed. Finally, there was only the Stranger and the man on the fishing crate left in the square.
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
What's in a Name? (Part 1)
A short story that I wrote back in June 2008, for my Mom.
On a world many, many light-years away ….
The Stranger gently landed his flighter on the top of the hill with a final burst of the ventral jets. He clambered in an ungainly manner out of the cockpit, and leapt lightly to the ground, clearly accustomed to the manoeuvre. Standing tall, he surveyed the urban sprawl that sprouted at the bottom of the hill on which he stood, expanding out in a northerly direction over the ridges and dales surrounding the valley bowl. Through the centre of the valley ran a river – or rather, it limped. Even from this distance the presence of numerous obstructions to the normal flow was evident.
To the Stranger’s left of the river, he observed neat, orderly roads, residences and what appeared to be a sort-of town-centre. It was a real gem to look at, the cobbled streets tidy and flowers in boxes at every window, To the right – he paused for a moment as he glanced in that direction – the overall colour was brown, which stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding land. There appeared to be little order to the ... chaos ... and it was, in fact, an eye-sore.
Unerringly drawn to this divided settlement, the Stranger started down the hill, intent on learning more about such a place of contrasts. He was not sure of why, but it was this curiosity that had caused him to land his flighter.
On a world many, many light-years away ….
The Stranger gently landed his flighter on the top of the hill with a final burst of the ventral jets. He clambered in an ungainly manner out of the cockpit, and leapt lightly to the ground, clearly accustomed to the manoeuvre. Standing tall, he surveyed the urban sprawl that sprouted at the bottom of the hill on which he stood, expanding out in a northerly direction over the ridges and dales surrounding the valley bowl. Through the centre of the valley ran a river – or rather, it limped. Even from this distance the presence of numerous obstructions to the normal flow was evident.
To the Stranger’s left of the river, he observed neat, orderly roads, residences and what appeared to be a sort-of town-centre. It was a real gem to look at, the cobbled streets tidy and flowers in boxes at every window, To the right – he paused for a moment as he glanced in that direction – the overall colour was brown, which stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding land. There appeared to be little order to the ... chaos ... and it was, in fact, an eye-sore.
Unerringly drawn to this divided settlement, the Stranger started down the hill, intent on learning more about such a place of contrasts. He was not sure of why, but it was this curiosity that had caused him to land his flighter.
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Had I but the Words ...
Had I but the words to write a sweeping epic,
To craft an elegant poem, to knit the fabric of history;
Had I but the words to describe the dazzling stars,
To delve the depths of earth, to paint the majesty of mountains;
But I have only these poor words, and this aching heart.
1 February 2009, England
To craft an elegant poem, to knit the fabric of history;
Had I but the words to describe the dazzling stars,
To delve the depths of earth, to paint the majesty of mountains;
But I have only these poor words, and this aching heart.
1 February 2009, England
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