Blowing Hot & Cold

It’s officially the winter season at the Barnett Residence:  with this recent cold snap I have un-mothballed our pellet stove in our basement.  It keeps things about 80F down there.  The ground floor is set around 65F and upstairs falls to 61F or lower when the wind howls.

Another busy DayJob week leading to no writing at all for nearly four days.  On the morning of the fourth day I texted my wife that I was becoming morbidly depressed.  She counselled me to hang on a bit longer.  Wisdom:  in the past day and a half I’ve written just over 3000 words about little Fussy and her first battle, the first part of which is just below the fold.

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Cat Naps

Yesterday was the county library’s Local Author Fair. of which I was a part.  There were less authors than last year and also less attendees; I warned them about scheduling this opposite an Ohio State football game, but librarians are stupid.

While I was there I made a page and half of notes on Faustina’s book.  Below the fold is merely the transition to the start of the notes I made.  This is going to be a very long novel.

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“Speak the word…the word is all of us”

For those who’ve not been following along, this is a continuation of yesterday’s post and the latest story of Faustina’s recollections about building her private army.  Many things going on… when this becomes a novel it will likely take two chapters to unpack.

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Tales from her Sickbed…

DayJob is nightmarish:  all the of the IV rooms are, politely, “in flux.”  “We’re all screwed” comes closer but we are all trying to KBO.

I was visited with Faustina’s next adventure last night.  What I found entertaining was that when I sat down in front of the computer, I saw this, first.  More Faustina and her legions next time.  I promise!

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Deus Volt, cont’d

I’m enjoying how this is turning out so far.  I think I’ll have Faustina in hospital recollect everything right up until the rod dropped and she was badly injured.  Things will all be real-time after that.  And I have a suspicion where – one of the world’s functioning fusion reactors – she and this story might be headed.  Two parts?  Three?  We shall see; I always knew she would get her own novel!

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Deus Volt

Ever since I met her in “Worlds Without End,” I knew that Faustina, Gary Hartmann’s slightly younger sister, would have her own novel.

I just didn’t expect to have her showing me things so soon.

Like all of my stories, as I learned from Jerry Pournelle, this is starting in the middle:  set maybe five or eight years after WWE, Faustina has led her personal army from Knoxville over the mountains and down the river to take the important port city of Savannah.  At great cost to herself.

I confess that, as always, I’ve no idea at all where this is going and am interested as you are…

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Life Imitating My Art, part… yeah

Let’s start with a graph…

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And end with a quote from my novel, Friend & Ally (emphasis mine):

Hakane took another drag off his cigarette in Somi Corporation’s breakroom, laughing at his colleague’s comment.  It wasn’t so much their company discouraged smoking as that they wished to make sure their products were not contaminated.  Given the delicacy of some of the prototypes, all respected this rule.

“Can you believe it, Atazaki?” he asked, flourishing his newspaper.  “The US economy imploding like this?  I’m an engineer, not at economist, but how in the world…”

“Call it belief; call it faith.  Lose it, and your world ends,” his friend replied, looking at a domestic part of his own newspaper.

“What’s that?”  What Hakane knew of politics could fit into a sake cup.

“Since the war,” for a Japanese, that meant only one thing, “the world economy had the US dollar as its reserve currency, backed, not by gold or silver, but by the faith – mind you – that the US will always be there!”

Atazaki glanced at the clock over the inner door and decided one more cigarette was in order.

“So now we find,” he said, pointing at Hakane’s paper with his lighter, “that as the American President is being removed via extra-Constitutional means, the Russians, Chinese, and Indians are rolling out a new currency… what’s it called?”

“The ria,” Hakane managed.

“Whatever.  Backed by the gold they’ve been buying up for a generation, and indexed to oil.  At that point, US dollars became valueless.”

Hakane was still confused.  But why…

“Why is there rioting in the US?  And getting worse so fast?”

Atazaki blew a blue-grey cloud toward the ceiling’s scrubbers.

“It’s a replay of what almost happened back in 2008:  credit dries up, the velocity of money drops to zero.”

Atazaki realized his friend didn’t get a single word.  He tried again.

“Credit cards stop working; all the zeros and ones in banks are gone, and, for the Americans,” he took another drag, “their food-welfare cards, whatever they’re called, stopped working.”

He exhaled again and sat back.

“All cities in the US are starving right now.  And there is nothing… nothing at all, to stop it.”

Atazaki took another drag while looking out the window at bustling Osaka.

“They’re done for.” Quieter.  “God help us; we’re all alone.”