Thursday, December 28, 2006

Monster's Inc

This was a rather good film. - Its official now, you understand.

Love Boo and Celia's character is funny... "googley bear"

boo sister


Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Some more (of my own more like)

He attacked them with such veriousity that he was deemed insane.

A half-life in truth.

We hurt the ones we love most of all.

Everyword you speak is riddled with truth.

Sometimes I theorise than my parents were good, it is then small wonder why they did not learn from thier own.

I am always being told to eat, it will make happy, I guess as a male in the 21st Century, I always have had a weight problem.

Men are much like toy soldiers, molded in a cheap throw away fashion and hence easily trodden on.

If I speak my mind, you have not the wit to follow.

It is a difficult thing to be right, when all those about you are wrong.

For there is no evil men, just broken ones.

All's well that ends well.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. - Stupidity also.

et cetera, et cetera, et cetera - king and i

those who are not scared, are a liar or a fool

I can play women like a fiddle, very badly ...but the sentiment is still there.

You can't fool all the people all the time.

I hold myself in contempt, why should you be any different. - jc

Subject: Who can tell what kills a man.
Death is not worse pain than an empty life. - King and I

We are all leaving, some on thier feet ...of thier own free will- King and I

King: It is a problem of the heart.
Anna: You're not dieing
King: That is no way to speak to a dieing king.
King: A King knows when he is dieing or not.


Quotes (mark twain more like)

read up on bloody mark twain he's good...

How little a thing can make us happy when we feel that we have earned it. -
Mark Twain, The Diaries of Adam and Eve

It was enough to make a boy ashamed of the human race.- Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Familiarity breeds contempt - and children.- Mark Twain, Notebooks (1935)

A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval.- Mark Twain

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.-Mark Twain

It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare.- Mark Twain

Suppose you were an idiot and suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.- Mark Twain

The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter.- Mark Twain

The right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause.- Mark Twain

The universal brotherhood of man is our most precious possession, what there is of it.- Mark Twain

Water, taken in moderation, cannot hurt anybody.- Mark Twain

Whenever you find that you are on the side of the majority, it is time to reform.- Mark Twain

He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it - namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to obtain.
-Mark Twain, "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer", Chapter 2

A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.-
Mark Twain, (attributed)

You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.- Mark Twain, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

Sane and intelligent human beings are like all other human beings, and carefully and cautiously and diligently conceal their private real opinions from the world and give out fictitious ones in their stead for general consumption.
- Mark Twain, Mark Twain In Eruption


Saturday, December 23, 2006

Point of view - Db bouevald

boy oh boy...

Labels: ,

Happy Christ-mas

I feeling feastive so cap a load of this...



Friday, December 22, 2006


Groggy sleep drifts away bringing senses; the smell of sweat, the sound of breathing, the feel of warmth, the bitter taste of blood…eyes open wide from sedation. She awakes to find herself lying partially dressed with an oriental man craning over her. In anger and fear, she grabs at his throat with both hands and wraps her legs around his torso to stop him escaping. The oriental man struggles against the surprising strength of the women until he begins to writhe passively from muscle memory. In disgust, the corpse is pushed away, rolling off the side of the bed and onto the floor with a dull heavy characteristic thud. She stares momentarily in bewildered at a barcode imprinted on the underside of her left forearm, then refocuses on viscous red liquid trickling off her right hand from a nosebleed. Hurriedly she dresses in the ill fitting white garments strewn around the metallic grey-blue cell in a seemingly staged fashion; then searches through the dead man’s clothing, folded neatly on a chair, in the corner left of the door. She finds a snakeskin wallet, which shakes within her grasp as a sudden noise comes from the door.

Motors hum, quickly drawing the grey-blue door into its housing. The barrel of a gun cautiously enters then dwarfed by two bulky black male hands supporting it. Adrenaline pumping, she athletically springs to full height from her crouching position and kicks the figures wrist against the doorframe with a crunching noise, matched by a painful growl. The firearm clatters on to the floor as she lunges into the doorway and kicks the bulky guard in the head sending him staggering back against the opposite wall of the dimly lit corridor. The African man shakes his head slightly and launches himself aggressively back into the cell with a war cry; blood vessels bulging at his neck. Apparently loosing his footing, the guard then falls silent, slumping at the threshold to the cell. A sliver of smoke trails from the suppressor as she fearfully grabs the Oriental’s dull brown overcoat and heads out along the narrow grey-blue corridor to the illuminated emergency exit sign. Slamming her body weight into the door she realises it is fast.

A disturbance draws her attention to behind her as the cell door begins to repeatedly close on the guard’s torso. She freezes watching then turns back around trying to figure out how to open the fire escape. The guard’s eyelids flicker as a wincing expression grows over his face. Stepping back, she shoots the lock off at point blank range before giving the metal emergency bar a resounding kick. Motors drone as the fire door slides sideways allowing the cold night air in. The African rolls over quietly reaching for his ankle holster. As she puts on the flapping brown overcoat to keep warm she notices that the tight white garments she is wearing underneath have strangely increased its temperature in response. Male voices shouting from behind draws her attention once again back along the narrow corridor and to the African straining on the floor. She drops to one knee hearing a rush of air by her ear and offloads a second round this time into the African’s cranium; brains splatter into a fine red mist as the bullet embeds into the wall beyond with metallic twang.

Feeling light rain on her face she exits into a dark side street heading towards a group of homeless people gathered round a fire. Guards file down the narrow dim corridor checking out each room and subsequently disrupting the fowl mouthed occupants. She clicks the safety on the black Howler UM17 before placing her hands inside the overcoat pockets and taking a look over her shoulder. Nothing. She hurries a little as the storm breaks above, flicking the ridged collar up. One of the senior guards frowns in lack of recognition at the African man slumped on the floor then heads to the open fire door. Taking another glance over her shoulder, she stops and begins to warm herself by the fire as a shadow appears behind her then retreats from the rain. She shies in relieve before taking a sharp breath in. The senior guard now with his suit blazer over his head shouts inquiring if they saw anyone, promising a meagre credit reward. She and the only apparently aware homeless man shake their heads reluctantly in the darkness. The guard retreats once more and closes the fire door.

After paying the sober homeless man twice the meagre reward, she came to a main road, mingled with a crowd of rowdy pub-crawlers and found solace in the constant din and cheap alcohol of, UV, an aptly illuminated nightclub; making the skimpy white garments she was wearing glow. Yet, she was still disturbed by the knowledge that she had no prior memory before waking and that who ever wanted her dead may find her at any moment. Who was she, where was she and why was this happening? The barcode on her forearm made her head spin even more than the alcohol, her first thought was a tattoo but then she had a feeling she wasn’t inclined to tattoos which lead to it being an actual barcode making her property, a slave. What kind of world was this? It felt alien and hostile, like she belonged somewhere else, far away, but every time she centred on something in the past she lost her trail of…

…And the more she thought the less she felt she comprehended. In resolution, she knew that she had to get off the streets, somewhere warm, dry and safe. The hotel key card she found in the Oriental man’s wallet seemed an ideal solution until she thought it through. She needed to pick up a man or a woman even and go back to their place, the way she was dressed, it didn’t seem that too difficult to achieve.

Richard Bryant wakes with a hang over, half way through a news item about terrorism. Rolling out the puddle of self-drool, he realises his hands and legs are tied behind his back. Squinting against the artificial lights in the apartment, he reads the clock in the bottom right corner of the television screen. He looks over to a dark pile of equipment sitting on the surface of the open plan kitchen. The shower then draws attention as an athletic woman with long black hair steps out wearing a towel. “Never trust a natural blonde.” He slurs. The offending wig is thrown at him underarm as she flicks on the kettle and opens the fridge. Bryant nudges himself up into a sitting position against the wall. “You going to untie me now?” The woman doesn’t reply with her head deep in the fridge. He glances to the news channel now reporting the brutal murder of a businessman when the screen goes blank. Bryant frowns at the TV then the woman. “What do you want? Rachel…” He remembers her telling him. “If that is your real name.”

She strolls over to him and shows her left forearm. “What’s this?”

“It’s a barcode.” Bryant frowns smelling her mild halitosis. “Damn off-worlders.” He then mutters to himself.

“Yes but what does it mean?” She interjects.

“It says you’re an android.” Bryant tilts his head and looks into her soulful brown eyes. “You’re an AI.” He airs with curiosity.

“I’m human.” ‘Rachel’ stands with determination and returns to the kitchen area. “You’re a clone.” She echoes but with more spite.

“No. You must understand I’m very much sober.” Bryant replies distracted as he watches her pick white underwear from the washer-dryer and get dressed with her back turned to him. “I never said you were an android.”

“You called me an AI.” She turns around straightening out the white sports bra.

“Its an expression for people with a CNI.” He blows some of his blond hair out of his face.

“Continue.” Rachel replies placing her hand on the Howler UM17.

“A cybernetic neural interface embedded in their cerebral cortex, a kind of human friendly remote modem. They’ve been going on about it for years, its fairly experimental technology even now, unstable, insecure; AIs are illegal on the entire planet, easy to detect.” She frowns. “You managed to turn the TV off and I don’t think it turned off by itself. Can I assume you’re the murderer they were talking about or you going to tell me what this is all about?”

She sits on the work surface eating a bread roll. “I woke up and I can’t remember who I am or where I am.” Rachel airs emotionally. “With this barcode on my arm…and I’m not a robot!” Rachel cries standing and waving the UM17 around.

“Easy. Robotics isn’t that far advanced unless you count the electronic pets they have now. You’re not artificial.”

“Coming from a clone that isn’t reassuring...” she stuffs the last bit of the bread in to her mouth.

“Regalians are more stable than Humans.” Bryant’s perfect face smirks coldly.

“Who do you work for?” Rachel aims the gun at him, a red laser dot landing between his eyes. “You must have a large income to afford all this.” She refers to the surroundings.

“It’s just a safe house. I work for the Government, subcontracted out. I’m the lead Slicer.” He airs arrogantly drunk.

“Which is?”

“I ensure the Central computer system is secure, I wrote most of the programming myself.” Rachel sits back onto the kitchen surface. “You still haven’t answer my question, what do you want from me?”

“I need your help.” Bryant scoffs slouching against the pillows. “Sleep it off. I can wait, for now.”


“Ah!” Rachel puts the UM17 into Bryant’s side as he reaches for the black equipment on the kitchen top.

“Hey we trust each other now, don’t we?” Bryant’s voice sounds friendlier with a more sober tone.

“Hardly.” Rachel counters drawing back her Howler UM17. Bryant takes off his ultramarine blue jacket and puts on the black body armour underneath then fits a headset on.

“Amnesia is just short term you know, people who have it still act the same way as they would normally.” He airs pulling away from the idea of helping her in reluctance.

“There’s more to it than that. Who ever put me there clearly didn’t think twice about killing me and I couldn’t say much different to you now seeming what I have told you.”

“Indeed, well if you’re right the oriental guy you killed must have found out to.”

“I was sent there as an assassin…” Rachel realises.

“The barcode on your arm and the wig were probably done to disguise you as one of the sex droids. ‘Accidentally’ killing him in some exotic role-play, it happens more often than you would think and could easily be explained away.” Bryant nods to himself. “Then all they would have to do was simply switch you back again with a real sex droid and no one would be the wiser.”

“But I woke and strangled him anyway.” A lump forms in her throat.

“Then the African guy came in to stop you from talking. I wouldn’t delve on it to much, it was either you or them.” He says coldly as he pats her on the shoulder.

“Why me though and why did I wake at all?” Brant holds his head annoyed at the continuous questioning.

“For the first point, I’ll need to take some mugs shots of you to run through the missing persons list, people disappear everyday and for the second point…I don’t know…the technology must be still be in its infancy.”

“Oh no I’m coming with you, you’re not leaving me here.” Rachel spots quickly due to the mention of photos.

“Well I’m not promising anything further…have to jack in but not here it’s too dangerous, you alone would be venerable, with me the head Slicer we’ll pose more of a threat. Get a large coat with a hood to cover up your face from the cameras, its cold still so it won’t stand out too much.”

“Right.” She acknowledges moving to the cupboard.

“Wait, first I’ll have to scan you down first to check you haven’t got any trackers. Get on the bed a moment.” He picks one of the attachments from the black body armour and commences to slowly scan over her body.

“This material is strange?” Rachel mutters to herself adjusting the size too small sports bra.

“Its thermal gorse. Athletics and extreme sportsmen use it. You could have just kidnapped a woman you realise.”

“Hey I was drunk remember.” Rachel smiles invitingly.


After walking for approximately twenty minutes from the blustering utopian centre, they reach run down, desolate and forgotten streets. Rachel hadn’t really noticed the change at first until she could only spot a stray dog, searching through a pile of smouldering rubble. “What is this place?”

“The Northern Quadrant. It used to be an affluent area centred on low-tech industry, then about five years ago it declined, crime rose, the rich simply left and migrants moved in. The councils have been promising regeneration ever since, whilst the police avoided the area completely.”

“So remind me, why have we come here, again?” Rachel quips.

“The best place to hide is somewhere unexpected, unmonitored and which no one gives a damn about.” Bryant winces as he scouts round a corner.

“Meow” A ginger cat purrs, rubbing its self against Bryant’s trouser leg. Rachel smiles crouching down to pick up the cat, before being ungainly pulled across the empty box junction.

“I hate cats!” Bryant remarks as the cat chases after them playfully.

“They’re cute.” Rachel tugs back her arm.

“They’re freeloaders.” He counters grabbing her arm again. The cat stops and watches as the two enter a decaying storage deport through a hole in the wall.

“Let go!” Rachel sounds defiantly flinging her arm into something soft and warm. A bulky skin-headed man grunts from the blow to his solar plexus.

“Sorry.” She airs politely patting him on the back as he cranes over in pain.

“Time of the month.” Bryant quips before pulling her backwards through a dank doorframe. She was about to ask what that meant until she turned around to see a vast market picked out by shafts of dawn light entering through cracks in the ceiling. A dense mass of shady characters moved before them in a fluid fashion amongst stalls managing not to brush up against each other.

“How did that guy get so big?” She refers to the skinhead she just put down.

“Muscle grafts.” Bryant remarks absently as he moves forward, the ocean of people open then close behind him.

“Hey wait up.” Rachel calls over the constant whisper of trade. A synthetic arm reaches out at her from a stall tugging mischievously at her hair before letting go. The female Indian merchant laughs heartily directing sales banter at her even thou she disappears again into the crowd. “You’re not trying to lose me are you?” Rachel inquires as her head pops over the screen of a laptop. Bryant looks up distracted yet doesn’t answer listening to the electronic squawks coming from the modem. She brushes past the fat bearded store holder to take a look. “This is why we are here?”

“Keep your voice down.” Bryant responds as his fingers glide over the keyboard. “It’s the safest location to jack in. It’ll take me a sec to run some subroutines before I can access Central data without being traced though.” Rachel sits down subdued and waits.

There is a flash. “Anything?”

“No.” Bryant replies flatly seeing no match in the missing persons list to the photo he just took of her. “They must have wiped it from the files…this could mean that the government is involved.” Then again, maybe it was arrogant to assume that his security measures were unbreakable. Bryant’s fingers race once again compiling data streams.

“You like?” The bearded store holder inquires in German, to the performance of the laptop whilst winking at Rachel.

“What did he say?” Rachel asks failing to understand.

“Its good.” Bryant replies off hand ignoring her.

“Good!?” The store holder scoffs. “I only sell the best!”

“Let me try one more thing…” Bryant smiles as the store holder shrugs and turns to another customer. Blood trickles from Rachel’s nose.

“I don’t feel to well.” She airs dropping to one knee, Bryant shifts in his chair just as the laptop shatters into a million pieces.

“Get down!” Bryant cries landing on top of her. Suppressed rounds rain into the store as an Italian man with a ponytail wades through the crowd aiming a recoiling UM20. The figure stops to reload as the crowd disperse silently. Bryant grabs what is left of the laptop and wrestles to retrieve the disk as the German store holder returns fire defending what is left of his goods. A couple of the large calibre rounds land in the assassin’s chest with little effect. “Come on!” Bryant shouts at the unconscious Rachel as he drags her. The Italian man slaps the slide on his UM20, chambering the weapon and fires. Three bullets rip right through the German’s neck, the corpse of which immediately slumps down, trapping Rachel’s legs. “Damn!” Bryant cries drawing his sidearm whilst trying to kick her free. The assassin treads over the wounded and the dead who were caught in the crossfire. One waits till the figure passes and fires with her last strength into his back but to no avail.

“Hey!” The female Indian merchant cries in distraction. The Italian man turns toward, before flying backwards against a pillar.

Bryant manages to get Rachel free. “Don’t you die on me!” She grunts as he lifts her over his shoulder. “Thanks.” Bryant nods to the Indian woman cradling a UM180 Pulse Cannon. He moves over to the assassin and crouches to investigate.

“Its an infiltration droid…old model…I recognise the face.” The women’s one eyebrow lowers. “I guess you’re not worth that much.” Bryant looks round to see her now in two minds about killing them and collecting any possible bounty on their heads.

Rachel wakes. “I’m fine!” She calls, defiantly rolling off his back. Given the idiotic distraction Bryant smoothly picks up the assassin’s UM20 and takes out the Indian woman’s shins.

“What you do that for?” Rachel sounds lying half limp on the dank floor.

“I was repaying a compliment.” Bryant drops the empty UM20 and looks to her. “Can you stand?” Rachel rolls on to her front and struggles.

“Here.” Bryant wraps her arm over his shoulder and helps her up.


“What’s that smell?” Rachel inquires over the sound of flowing water.

“Don’t ask!” Bryant replies as he kicks a rat out the way, slipping slightly on the smiley green floor. “From what I could get on the Central computer, Syntek and UM are collaborating in a ‘Sleeper’ project. Using AI tech and UM weaponry to create an ultimate assassin, I think you are a or possibly one of a prototypes and that they intend to use Regalian genetical engineering techniques to build the full production bodies…” He stops then turns right. “…And unless I’m mistaken they could infiltrate anywhere, then ‘sleep’ until their target comes into range, then they become active.” Bryant finds a ladder and leaves Rachel at the bottom to check it out. “Probably use them for industrial espionage, retiring the competition or even for military campaigns.” He lifts up the manhole cover to find a burnt out car parked above blocking any exit. “Damn…and the high levels of government must be involved.” The manhole cover is slide back into place.

“But you said that AI’s could be easily detected.” She calls up before making a muffled grunt.

“Yes but that’s wishful thinking.” He replies coming back down. “AI tech combined with GEM would be practically undetectable. The entire population of Regalian could be turned into mindless drones…” He stops feeling something cold and hard pressed against the back of his neck, he looks round. A Jamaican man with dreadlocks smiles then blows blue smoke into his face.

“Welcome to the Regal Liberation Front my friend!”

“Where’s the girl? She’s injured.” Bryant replies trying not to cough.

“Ah she be fine man!” He holds out the smoke. “You want some medicine to?” Bryant shakes his head, causing a couple of the armed men with berets to laugh loudly.

“For a terrorist you’re fairly laid back, Rex.” Bryant remembers seeing his face on the new cast earlier.

“My name ain’t Rex man!” Rex looks to the others then back again. “Up there maybe, down here its Captain E-Z!” Rex laughs and stamps his foot with amusement. Bryant ignores him and begins to walk in the direction they must of come from.

Rex coughs intestinally making two rebels block his path. “You in deep shit now man…and the water is getting higher! You don’t just walk, you understand?”

“Hey I came down here looking for you, didn’t I?!” Bryant lies turning around. “You catch what I was just saying?”

Rex pouts. “Most of it.”

“Well the part you missed is I have a plan to expose it all…and the real question is; are your balls big enough for the job?”

Rex nods putting his arm around Bryant’s neck. “Hey I like this man! What you need?”

“What you got?”


Rex turns on the lights to an underground hanger bay, in the centre of which an aerodynamic black starfighter lays collecting dust. “A Ground Assault Hawk Gunship, fully laden…some serious hardware man. I ain’t really got round to using it yet.” Rex licks his lips watching Rachel run up to the starfighter and climb amused into the front cockpit.

“Is she going to be alright?” Bryant asks itching a plastic on his forehead.

“You fooling man, you’re honey there is hypoglycaemic! All she needed is some sweet sugar.” Rex nudges him with his shoulder.

Bryant looks embarrassed by his forlorn sign of affection towards her. “Five syllables I’m impressed…Will it fly?”

The starfighter suddenly becomes airborne answering his question. “Hey! Hey!” Rex shouts waving his arms as dust gets thrown up by the stabilises. The Hawk sets down again on its hydraulic gear. “This on loan man from the Peacekeepers! You better bring it back without a scratch!”

“I will!” Rachel calls over.


“Would you like anything Sir?” An attractive flight stewardess inquires craning with a forced smile. The seated man’s attention is drawn from staring blankly out across the wing. Their eyes meet as he visibly thinks.

“Nothing, thank you.” is emitted weakly from his thin dry lips barely sounding over the hum of engines.

“Very good Sir.” She smiles again after putting on an interested expression and turns around to find the bodyguards eyeing her from behind their shades. She holds onto the back of a seat as the refitted APV increases altitude towards the tallest of the skyscrapers, the UM tower. Turbulence increases likewise as the jet slow to a hover. The gear lowers as the vessel turns into the wind then smoothly descends onto the landing pad. Guards rearrange themselves tactically around the Armed Personnel Vessel as the door opens breaking the corporation motto printed on the side.

“This way, Sir.” One bulky male calls over the high pitch whistling engines. The scientist steps into the bright daylight causing the pale flesh around his eyes to crinkle. A large metallic suitcase handcuffed to his left hand is raised to a more comfortable position before being paraded across the windswept rooftop, man handled down a staircase then into a lift. The poorly presented scientist finally arrives in the packed conference room slamming the metal suitcase upon the end of the long black table in frustration. Simultaneously a car bomb explodes far below, the burning metal carcass flies up and twists in the fireball as the nearest two cars also ignite. A Police siren adjoins the cacophony of alarms, car horns and screaming. The female cop exits through the drivers scissor door and rushes towards the injured almost getting run over by a second squad car screeching to a halt.

“Are we safe?” An American businessman inquires as a crowd has formed observing the incident from the window.

“Perfectly safe…” the slick haired women is interrupted by the slight shockwave, however continues undeterred. “Gentleman, please.” The crowd turn away from the window and head back to their places.

“Can I get this off yet?” The scientist coughs involuntary, rubbing the reddened flesh around his wrist as the natural light dims. Water in the jug begins to ripple again as the room quakes.

The female cop grabs her radio to call for medical backup as her eye line follows the cloud of thick black rising smoke. “We have a situation here!”

Attention is drawn to the doors as guards burst in, then to the windows that being resonating loudly. Daylight dapples then fades as a Ground Assault Hawk Gunship decloaks inches from the glass. “Get down!” One of the guard cries slamming the slide of his UM20 whilst shoving the scientist unceremoniously to the floor. The large calibre cannons snarl armour piecing rounds, ripping bone, sinew and cement apart then punch them straight through the skyscraper; splattering remnants out the other side. The Hawk tilts and tears out the entire floor of life before levelling within the swirling heat of its engines. Fire sprinklers are set off as the starfighter nudges its nose cone abruptly into the building. The emergency hatch hisses with pressure differential then thuds onto the wet carpet.

Rachel unrecognisably dressed in full black combat gear resurrects from the cockpit to locate her objective. Producing the Howler UM17 sidearm, two suppressed 9mm rounds are fired in quick succession. The scientist once playing dead now screams in agony clutching at his arm. “Go! Move it!” Rachel looks up disturbed as voices come from the stairwell. She offloads a third round putting the scientist out of his misery then grabs the suitcase sprayed with his blood and heads back to the Hawk. A stun grenade explodes as a similarly dressed figure appears from the remains of stairwell. “Freeze!” The armed guard shouts before a wet sheet of paper importunely flies up blocking his visor. Two stray shots strike her in the shoulder as a second armed figure appears and opens fire. Rachel ducks picking up the emergency hatch and uses it as a makeshift shield. The suitcase is stuffed into the second cockpit before she finally gets out of the line of fire.

A Police air unit flies by taking out the lower port engine. The starfighter jolts sliding out of the skyscraper and begins to fall backwards. Rachel grabs the stick in a blind panic opening fire accidentally up through the buildings water tanks and blowing up the APV. “Fall back!” One of the armed guards cries as the tanks rupture pouring out a torrent of water, sending them headfirst down the stairwell. The Police air unit turns around for another second run when the plunging Hawk disappears…


Rachel comes through the door and places the heavy metal blood stained suitcase next to Bryant. “Your very trusting having your back to the door.” She lets the ginger cat she had found again after running over ground from the hanger to the RLF central command; drop to the floor.

“Excellent.” Bryant turns around and picks up a scanner. “I’ll get started on this.” He smiles at her.

“So everything about this whole ‘Sleeper’ project will be held in that one suitcase?”

“Well that’s the theory.” Bryant replies scanning the suitcase for bombs.

“You mean you don’t know?!” Rachel questions worried sitting down and watching the cat lick its paw quietly under the table.

Bryant cracks the handcuffs off then starts on the locks. “Are you alright?” He asks in a diversionary manner.

“Well I got shot twice...” Rachel is amused playing with his feelings. “…In the shoulder but with the body armour Rex gave me, I hardly felt a thing…you’re not going to ask me how many people I killed then?” Rachel’s voice wavers.

“I wasn’t intending to.” Bryant replies coldly opening the suitcase, and looks through the wad of papers inside.

“How can you be so cold?” She frowns.

“With great difficulty!” Bryant shouts throwing the papers in the air and sliding the suitcase onto the floor. A machine clatters out from the suitcase and breaks. “Damn! Useless! Nothing!” Rachel sits silently watching the papers float to the ground.

“What about the machine?”

“Its just a holographic projector!” Bryant replies running his hands through his hair.

“I had to shoot a guys hand off to get that…is that it then?” Rachel asks depressed whilst wiping away another nosebleed. Bryant holding his head looks to her. A smile creeps over his face.

“I could kiss you!” He exclaims loudly.

“What?” Rachel winces from the decibels.

“I don’t believe I didn’t see it at first!” Bryant picks up the suitcase ecstatic.

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?”

“Any necessary data for the ‘Sleeper’ project would be massive, inconsiderably far too large to hold and be easily transportable in a mere suitcase.” Bryant laughs slightly manically.

“Ok you’re scaring me now!” Rachel airs flatly.

“The DNA of the carrier! The data is encrypted onto the carrier’s DNA!”

“Are you sure?” Bryant looses his trail of though momentarily.

“Well there is only one way to find out!!” He sets the suitcase down and starts swabbing up the splattered blood.

“Is there enough?” Rachel inquires as the fire sprinklers had washed off a lot of the blood.

“More than enough. I can just run it through a low-copy cloning cycle to be sure. The police use it all the time to catch criminals.” He puts the swabs into a lab machine and switches it on. The screen hums then glows a sky blue as readings scroll out. An incredibly dense DNA strands begins to form, and a test tube fills up with cloned blood.

“How long will it take to decode?”

“A while!” Bryant responds with little calculation.

“I don’t think we have that long.” Rachel warns feeling something subconsciously. A klaxon starts up as something brushes past Bryant‘s leg. He looks under the table to see the ginger cat playing innocently.

Rex bursts in. “There’s vessel coming in, what ever your going to do man you better do it fast!”

“What about the Hawk?” Bryant inquires picking up the cloned blood sample.

“It needs to refuel man!” Rex replies before leaving.

“Hey! Captain E-Z have you got some wheels?” Rex reappears at the door.

“Yerh man! It’s armoured man, second left down the corridor. Good luck!” Rex throws him the keys causing Bryant to accidentally drop the blood sample.

“What now?” Rachel panics.

“I’ll inject into my blood stream!” Bryant replies panicking a little himself.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, the guy looked pretty ill!” Rachel grabs him.

“I don’t think we have much choice in the matter!” He unwraps a syringe and injects what is left of the sample into his arm then hooks up some equipment. “I’ll crack it on the way now move!”


A silver Viper sports car de-alarms with a flash of amber. “You drive!” Bryant throws her the keys before rolling over the hood and getting in the passenger scissor door.

“WELCOME NEW DRIVER!” An artificial female voice airs from the dashboard as the ginger cat hops into the cramped backseat.

“I don’t know how to drive a car!” Rachel calls to Bryant, who responds by selecting; ‘D’ on the central gear stick.

“Right pedal!” The high performance auto revs up spinning its wheels, then punches them into the back of their seats, hitting its roof on the opening garage door in a shower of sparks.

“CAUTION: SPEED KILLS, SLOW DOWN!” The onboard computer warns as Rachel screeches onto the busy metropolitan street in a cloud of tire smoke.

“We’ll ignore the pleasantries.” Bryant mutters to himself; switching the audio function off before looking up. “With the traffic!” He shouts at the oncoming vehicles. Rachel hits ‘S’ and turns, dodging an articulated lorry. “You learn fast!” Bryant observes before returning his full concentration to cracking the cipher. A fireball explodes in the rear view mirror.

“We got company!” Rachel cries in anguish. A UM42 military assault craft flies through the flames, dispersing the thick black smoke with its stabilisers. Bryant flicks back the eyepiece of his headset and taps a couple of touch sensitive buttons on the dashboard. “What you doing?” The UM42 weapons open fire. Rachel turns to avoid being hit as an invisible energy shielding absorbs the blast.

“It’s got all of the optional extras!” Bryant replies flicking his eyepiece again as the boot pops up and a rear mounted cannon returns fire.

“Hold on!” The Viper races through a red light. A car pulls out into their path and gets rammed out of way, sending it spinning into a lamppost. “Sorry!” Rachel calls over her shoulder before fixing her eyes on the road-ahead closed signs leading into a tunnel. “Which way?!” A missile blast lands to the left sending shrapnel into the shields. “Which way!!??” Rachel screams whilst chopping through red and yellow chevron barriers, looking to the off ramp.

“The off ramp…no the tunnel!” The Viper’s suspension wines at the indecision and fools the UM42 into missing the tunnel entrance completely.

“You could of just said; shake them!” Rachel switches the window wipers on by mistake, then the headlights. A construction worker glowing a brighter yellow, waves his arms frantically at her before diving over the central divide. The menacing silhouette of the UM42 reappears in the rear view mirror as the Viper crashes through more barriers. Rachel hits ‘S’ again as a gantry explodes, collapsing down and narrowly missing them. A smoke screen is then activated as she accidentally brushes her hand on the dashboard. The UM42’s shields crash through the collapsed gantry with little damage and thrusts blindly into the cloud. “It’s gaining!” She cries fearfully over the sound of rushing air as the UM42 exits the smoke screen. Distracted Bryant looks over with his left eye and presses the central screen with his finger, misjudging the distance. The mounted cannon aims into the wall then is corrected upwards. Chunks of the ceiling begin to rain down upon the UM42 giving the desired effect.

The concentrated sound of rushing air stops as the Viper races onto the surface. The tunnel collapses in a cloud of dust behind them then explodes. Rachel swerves as a large chunk of concrete lands in front of them. A Police car then an air unit joins the chase firing on the now slower UM42. A truck ahead is purposely hit and jack-knifes across the lanes. Rachel takes the hard shoulder, skidding; the rear wheel raises a wave of soil from the embankment before screaming back on to the tarmac. The tire then burst and rides on the rim before auto inflating. “Are you finished yet?!” She questions facing denser traffic ahead.

“Nearly there!” He sounds strained. “But there’s something jamming my signal…and it has to in close proximity!” The Viper’s shields fail under the barrage of weapons fire, the armour now taking the brunt. “Ahh!” Bryant’s face contorts feeling a sharp pain in his left arm.

“Are you hit?” Rachel glances over.

Bryant looks behind him to see the ginger car scowling at him. “What the?!” He draws his sidearm and shoots the cat, which bursts into flames filling the cabin with smoke. Rachel manages to increase the air con whilst activating the hazard lights. A second Police air unit joins the chase mistakenly just in front of the UM42 forcing it to take evasive action and run head long into side of a heavy cargo transport slowly manoeuvring out between the skyscrapers. Rachel loses all control as something blows under the bonnet; the Viper turns suddenly and flips over repeatedly at high speed. The Viper finally lands on its roof skidding to a halt. Rachel screams as the UM42 comes careering towards them. The UM42 crashes down, bounces off the tarmac, explodes mid air, then grinds to a stop just short of the Viper. “Women drivers!” Bryant says feebly rubbing his eyes, with his hair on end. They hug each other upside down and laugh glad to be alive.

The roar of a Ground Assault Hawk Gunship then grabs their attention in the opposite direction. “Did you do it?” Rachel tries the door vainly.

“I don’t know the equipment is smashed.” Feeling a sense of weightlessness they look at each other confused as the Viper begins to lift gently in a graviton field. Rachel struggles with the jammed door again, as Bryant tries to hold her back. “No!” Everything suddenly goes black…

Bryant looks down upon the whole of Regal for the first time in his many lifetimes: the wide green and blue expanses of land and sea, the wispy white strands of high altitude cloud and a dark scar forming the hub of New Belarus. He didn’t feel awe as he had once expected, but fear. What had been his home for so long was now filled with realisation. Bryant had gained eternal life and lost his soul. Hundreds of years working for a utopian dream, that never was. He hoped Rex luck not really knowing whether he survived or not. The planet was now in open turmoil. All off-worlders were evacuating from the surface as to external embassy staff were being exiled as diplomatics failed. The Peacekeepers could only remain neutral in the matter as the Regal were far in advance even for the might of the Titan Class Carrier, Flagship. SS Impregnable; that had just arrived three minutes ago from the Hope System responding to the incident.

Although he hadn’t been questioned yet for any intelligence, which he anticipated the humans would sooner or later; the Regalian government had already denounced him as a traitor. An overwhelming anger grows towards his cold heart until something rubs up against his leg. Rachel appears smiling as a faint reflection against the bright orb. In that moment, he feels warmth once more looking from his infinite past to his finite future. He was after all now mortal, but he had held no regrets. Bryant turns around and runs his hand through her long black hair. It was only one lifetime, but it would be the richest of all.


The massive carrier engages its main propulsion drive, which resonates through the hull as the vessel breaks orbit. Escort fighters whiz by the control tower then over the flight deck, disappearing amongst the stars. Exiting the gravity well of the planet the capital ship prepares for hyperspace. ‘Rachel’ whispers her real name into Bryant’s ear just as the command is given. Within an instant the Impregnable and her entourage leap into the immense depths of infinite space.


Thursday, December 21, 2006


Nice free, handy 3d package...


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Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Some more art

I like these...


slightly fuzzy to be honest...

red supremacy


Tuesday, December 19, 2006


A gene has been found which controls limb growth and thus regeneration of a lost limb or organs may well be possible in the future. Although natually there are possible side effects such as cancer.

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Shakespeare shift

Shakespeare uses a linguistic technique known as functional shift that causes people to be instantly aware or be forced to rethink what is being said to gain the full meaning.

This is akin to research into Wit; whereby a sudden surge in brain inter-activity occurs.

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Avenging Dawn

Here's a short story I had in my head, its slightly more in my head visually than discriptively on the page but still I like my little title graphic...

Welcome to a reality alternate to our own. A future myth: where hopes of wonder breathe, yet so doth human nature breed…

A lone shooting star streaks across the clear night sky. Muttering from the crowd of villagers turns to sounds of awe, as the astronomical event bursts into life. One of the celestial bodies in particular draws attention to its self as it grows brighter than its counter parts, then fades.

Distant thunder echoes through the peaceful valley, followed by a deep threatening rumble. The people huddle closer together in their family groups, as to defend themselves, the best they can, against the impending cold. The sound of a howling wind begins to strengthen over the incessant background noise of insect mating calls, though everything around them was eerily still. The howling then transforms into an unearthly high pitched whine.

An explosion of light discloses the celestial vessel descending upon them. The villagers scatter every which way in blind panic as the whine turns to a deafening roar. A second concussion overwhelms many, who stubble to the ground with their eyes clamped hard shut.

Sods of dirt and burning plant matter rain down on them, as rich orange flames now lick the tall crop field near by.

Charred and tattered vegetation crackles under the gentle imprint of a feminine sized white space boot. Flt Lt Miller Lee, according to her name tag, cautiously scans around, before entering a small burnt out scar, deep within the field. It was clear from the lack of activity the locals were in no hurry to search for any survivors. Though she wasn’t too sure whether this was a good thing or not, having heard many a story, of dangerous indigenous creatures managing to survive, even on highly terraformed planets; unlike this one.

Miller stoops low as to not make a sound in laying down the weight of her bulky space helmet. Her heightened senses then detect some hidden movement; out of tune with the rhythmic swaying of the crop and the intermittent flapping of torn parachute. “Shit.” She pronunciates under her breath. Miller draws her sidearm and clicks the safety off, as footfalls begin to rail towards her with worrying speed. They then stop mysteriously. A spilt second of silhouette draws her aim upward into the glare of the sun. Blinded, she stubbles backward and snaps at the trigger. A terrifying screech cries out and within an instant, a rush of dust filled air hits her face.

A fierce raptor like creature now increases in detail from a blur of shapes and colours before her. The stillness of its blank yellow stare making her relax. Miller moves closer and runs her hand along its surprising smooth scaly skin. Its dagger like claw then takes a swipe at her. She leaps into the air like a startled cat, thinking how stupid she had been, but the creature remained on its side. As it was still in the early stages of rigor mortis, another twitch from muscle memory, causes her to turn away in disgust.

Taking a moment, she holsters the sidearm, adjusts her dishevelled ponytail then throws her head back to gulp heavily from a flask. Cool water soon begins to trickle wastefully down her neck as she stands frozen in the position she had just made. A fresh sound was now approaching from behind her. Miller draws her sidearm again and spins back around, dropping on to one knee.

Her eyes target on the outline of a camouflaged figure amongst the crop stems, then focuses on the barrel of a gun. “Stand down Lieutenant!” A close cropped man with a furrowed brow calls in a hushed tone. The barrel slowly lowers once the slightly panicked looking Miller had done so first. “You’ve been trained to squeeze the trigger when firing, then again keeping your eyes open helps.”

“The sun got in my eyes....Sir.” Miller counters as he inspects the creature.

“They’re crafty beggars. Looks like an adolescent.” He looks up to her from crouching over the beast, with the weight of a backpack unbalancing him slightly.

“How’d you know that, Sir?” Her voice poorly veiling a bitter sceptical tone.

“I had a bigger one for breakfast.” He grimaces at her arrogance, seeming he had just saved her life a matter of a few seconds ago. “Unless they’re a difference sub species...”

“...Oh god! What about the locals!” Miller interrupts and turns to look around. “They would of heard the animal cry for sure.”

Hunter scratches his stubbed jaw. “Its ok, Lieutenant.” She subconsciously notices how he was maintaining protocol more than usual. “There are enough creepy crawly things on this planet to sink a battleship, one less, is of no ones concern.” He pauses. “Just keep your voice down.” Hunter picks up the discarded helmet and goes to gather supplies from her escape pod. “I doubt you fail to see the irony.” His voice sounds strangely distant.

With an unreal shift in gravity, she is suddenly back in the cramped cockpit, tearing out of hyperspace and careering straight into an asteroid field. Sirens and lights blaring over the sound of heavy breathing. Glimpsing momentarily from the controls; to see the calming blue arch of a planet, dead ahead.

Miller shakes herself free from the vision and breaths in to ask a direct question, then changes her mind at the last moment. Somehow, whatever had happened, they had survived. The irony, which he was speaking of, was that manned fighters were being phased out to reduce the risk of loss to human life. Though the off hand comment had, by now slipped her mind completely.

“You up for a swim?” Hunter airs cheerfully though his brow didn’t even raise an inch.

“What about this?” Miller nods generally to the escape pod.

“We’ll eat it.” Hunter replies flatly. She squints then realises he must of thought, she meant the creature.

Once making sure the coast was clear, they crossed a narrow dirt track running along the edge of the field and down towards a secluded area of thick reeds on the banks of a lake. The valley had clearly been carved by a glacier many eons ago, leaving the valley sides sparse and rocky whilst further down rich jungle grew to fill the flood plain. Which had then in turn, been later cleared for agriculture use. Now somewhere in the depths of the lake, the Falcon lay waiting.

“You want to swim or just walk it in your suit?” Hunter questions whilst securing a line around a dead tree stump.

Miller checks her gauges. “I’ll swim.” She then proceeds in taking off the space suit and catches him goggling her figure, in the tight black under skin.

Hunter hands over the bulky scanner in his classic aggressive manner. “It’s a few metres out and a few more down.”

“Remind me again, why I am doing this?” Behind her, in the distance, mist was rolling majestically off the lake. For a moment he is lost in her soulful brown eyes.

Hunter then frowns more than usual at the strangely photographic vision before him. “Because I out rank you.” Miller catches the other end of the line, tossed at her.

She had thought of suggesting that it would be better doing this kind of thing at night or dusk, or similar, but she hadn’t and this fact was frustrating her further, as she tried to keep above the water and read the scanner attached to her forearm, at the same time. There could easily be something in there with her, swimming around, ready to gobble her all up; but at the present she was too self absorbed to care. After double checking she delved under the surface.

The visibility was poor, claustrophobic even, which didn’t help matters. Yet much as an ego boost, a familiar and reassuring, angular outline soon emerged from the murky depths. She attached the line with ease but then found it hard going in comparison to sift through the light silt. Finally her hand threw the manual override switch. At which point, bright orange floats deployed and inflated. A subsequent large movement displayed by the silt takes her off guard, causing her to panic and race to the surface. The harder and faster she swims the stronger the feeling grows that something is after.

Hunter couldn’t really hear anything of what she was shouting as she waved her arms. He clasped his hand to his ear comically in reply, “I can’t hear you!” till she disappeared under the water with a jolt. “Fuck!” The world instantly closed in on him as feelings of guilt, despair and a deep longing for her ran down his spine. Something large bursts out of the water where she had just been. The white water and spray then disclosing the double tennis pitch sized Falcon bobbing around on the surface like a Picasso sculpture with arm bands.

A frustrated metallic clunk is heard. “Well?” Miller pouts, reclining against the dead tree stump.

“We’ve got primary systems.” Hunter scrutinises the instruction booklet.

“But?” She sits up, slightly put off by the fact he wasn’t goggling her anymore.

“The engine drive is shot. If we took off, we wouldn’t make orbit before being irradiated, that is…” he runs his hand over his head; “…Or suffocating to death. Take your pick.” He throws the booklet over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t make much difference anyway, we don’t know where we are, so we ain’t going anywhere soon.”

“I thought you said we were in a Dredge system?” Her eyes narrow. Dredge were solar systems deemed uneconomically viable and generally used as dumping grounds by others; hence the close encounter with an asteroid field. Though naturally some were in employment as secret military bases, stroke criminal hide outs, stoke illegal colonies, et cetera, et cetera.

“Yes either one of ...” He licks his lips. “...The variations are insurmountable.” He takes a swig from his flask as a static feeling fills the air. He offers her some but she shakes her own flask back at him, touché. The hum from the Falcon becomes audible now as it slowly begins to hover and level out. “Well on the upside, we don’t have to walk anywhere anymore.”

“What’s that?” She points ahead to a strange looking object on the path ahead of them.
Hunter slows the Falcon to a stop and jumps off. “Stay here.” He grabs at his empty holster. “Here give me your sidearm a minute.” He strides over as Miller looks around. He soon returns covering his mouth and gaps for breath.

“Are you alright?” Miller questions with amusement. “What is it?” She then questions with more emotion as she catches a dry rancid smell in the air. ‘Hydrogen sulphide?’ She notes to herself before focusing on the object; it was a horrifically blackened and pathetically crumpled figure of a child. “How could that happen?”

“I’m not sticking around to find out.” Hunter comments visibly weakened as he gets onto the Falcon again.

“You frown even in your sleep.” Miller’s gentle whisper is almost drowned out by the sound of dripping water.

Hunter squints seeing her bathed in a shaft of flattering dawn light, perfect as ever. Being a press officer, it seemed strange to him that someone so beautiful had chosen to be on the opposite end of a camera, as it were. The reality was all too simple, he could read her like a book. Though granted it sounds melodramatic, he knew she must have had killed a civilian by mistake, he could see it in her eyes, and from that point on, she swapped a gun for a camera. Funnily enough, to him everything was painfully, all to simple. “I have a lot to think about.” He finally responds, with breath filling the dank surrounding air.

“So are you going to tell me?” She gets up to sit next to him.

“Ask her.” Hunter grunts idiosyncratically then rolls over.

A green icon soon winks invitingly from the screen, after a systems check. “Computer, bring up all data logs within the last twenty four hours.” Miller commands whilst adjusting the headset within the cramped confines of the cockpit. A substantial list scrolls downwards in chronological order, one of which, stands out from the real of numbers and abbreviations. “Computer, read to me the conclusion of Research File.”

An artificial female voice responds; “CONCLUSION!” Miller turns the volume down. “...FOREIGN DNA DETECTED IN SUBJECT...”

Miller reads ahead. “Damn it...Stop. Computer, stop!” She takes off the head set and throws it in anger, causing it to immediately rebound and hit her in the face. “Ouch!”

“Who’s is it?” Hunter scowls standing in the dappled shade of the overlying camouflage canopy.

“Its... it was James’s.” She airs from within the cockpit.

Hunter’s face relaxes as his shoulders drop. “Right.”

“Wait a minute. What’s going on here?” Miller questions, with her head popping out in the small gap between the Falcon and the canopy.

“There’s a volcanic fisher under the lake. Due to the depth and nature of water, gasses released by the fisher have so far been absorbed over many years. But the pressure is now at a critical level.”

“So its seeping out from under the lake.” Miller replies clambering out onto the wing.

Hunter nods then glances away. “The Computer predicts an natural disaster, the gas will explode with a force equal to that of a couple of nuclear warheads.” He turns to start walking away. “We are advised to reach higher ground.”

Miller jumps the last step from the Falcon. “What about the people?”

He stops and turns back around. Miller notices how dramatically differently he physically looks. “I doubt they would listen even if...” The ground begins to quake under their feet. “Oh God, Prep the ship, I’ll get our stuff.” Hunter staggers off as Miller struggles with the canopy.

It was an almost surreal sceptical below them. A pyroclastic flow raging upwards with alarming speed. Wiping out everything in its path. At one point they both backed away from the edge unwilling to trust the computer, Hunter eventually taking the opportunity to put his arm around Miller to comfort her.

The dark cloud however soon began to collapsed in on its self and sink back down again. It took much longer for the dust to clear, slowly disclosing the carnage in a red haze. Carcasses and trees strung haphazardly, the surroundings gaunt underlying bed rock and the lake its self a thick brown from consuming the valley.

Five years pass.

“Look there’s a new star tonight.” Miller notes in an intellectual tone running her hand through her child’s hair.

“Where?” The little boy’s eyes widen following her aim to a constant white point.

“That’s no star.” Hunter replies wiping food from his beard.

“A planet?” The child inquires.

“It’s a ship!” Hunter looks up from the green glow of a scanner screen. He hurriedly begins to pack up but clearly not in any form of an ecstatic fashion.

“What’s wrong? Its good we’re saved.” She stands pulling a strand of hair from her mouth.

“We’re behind enemy lines.”

Her jaw drops, as the child looks on. “What?”

“From our last known position and vector, I had been able to extrapolate that we’d been thrown into a unstable system somewhere deep in hostile territory.”

“I can’t believe this, why didn’t you tell me?” She airs waving her arms about.

“Because I didn’t want to worry you.” He looks at the child and puts the backpack on.

By morning, they had scurried up to a hardly accessible ridge with good all round vision hidden by long grass and shaded by a twisted old tree. Over the hours, despair that they may be forever trapped on the alien planet was beginning to counter the encompassing fear of the enemy. Hunter spots something through his binoculars, movement in a clearing, on a nearby wooded hillside. The figure clearly stumbling slides to a stop and balances as a cloud of dust settles. “Lee…” He whispers, but his voice is too weak to carry. At first he thought it was a soldier in an environmental suit, until he fully noticed how disturbingly emaciated the figure was. It was some kind of military droid the likes of which he had never seen.

“Keep quiet.” Miller’s voice sounds quieting the child, who by now had become boisterous. Hunter freezes as the robot turns its head and pans out through the clearing. “Come here” The little boy slips through her grasp and runs mischievously away through the tall grass. “Come here now.” Miller calls crawling after him.

The droid stops panning and stares straight at Hunter. “Oh boy.” The droid remains deadly still, then disappears again, back under the carpet of green.

Miller gasps as the child grabs hold of a white leg. Another droid looks down momentarily before continuing up the hill limping slightly due to the extra weight.

“Hold it right there!” Hunter shouts, aiming through the long grass at the machine, which was practically on top of him before he realised.

“IDENTIFY.” A familiar artificial female voice orders in the same, cold disjointed manner.

“Peacekeeper Wing Commander Daniel Hunter, Six, Eight…” The Droid interrupts him whilst he automatically spews out his number.


“HERE SIR.” A second droid replies as Miller slowly stands up next to it.


“James.” Hunter replies absentmindedly, which the child responds to and runs over to him.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Hunter simply shakes his head slowly.

The Peacekeeper Flagship, SS Parabola disappeared, leaving only a few pieces of debris and garbled distress signal.

All of which transpired to have come from a lone fateful escort fighter. Apart from suspected enemy intervention, the true cause still remains unknown. 924 Crew missing, presumed dead. Survivors 3.


As always I haven’t got specifics however, the idea of a volcanic fisher under a lake causing it to explode is not fiction, it has actually happened, more than once.

For example, a similar thing also happened along the same lines, in which the gas seeped out and suffocated everything and everyone in the valley, however it isn’t as half as dramatic as the lake exploding, now is it.

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Starship Troopers

This movie is a little more deep than some given credit for (ie it is based on a dense judge-dread-eqsue book). Something such as the co-ed shower scene and the corney end.

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Carrot and stick

We operate under a carrot and stick priciple.

However the reality is the carrot is always just out of reach, or it is never enough to compensate for the constant threat of a stick.

The stick should be used for those who have commited a crime, not thought crime.

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Paradigm shift

This is a sudden shift in logic or laterial thinking.

Predominately used in reference of how science proclams something to be fact, then new research indicates otherwise. Hence the paradigm ie the concept of what is considered to be true shifts to accomodate this new data.

The issue is not that science is wrong, but that it should not be questioned. We progressively are growing a sense of nostalgia about what is true even though it may verywell be wrong. In these changing times we grab onto things as a comfort blanket in a childish attempt at holding something which is constant. However life is change.

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Here's my dolphin in anim8tor, the tool set is a lot easier than max.


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Red Supremacy (update)

Research indicates that what is otherwise commonly know as "Junk" DNA acts as a carrier of dormant adaptations within a species genome.

Much like a virus or disease, if two parents are both carriers of a dormant adaptation and they breed successfully; the adapatation hence become active. Akin to genetical memory. Darwinism crucially fails on this point as it proposes that survivial within an environment alone drives evolutionary adaptation to occur over a period of millions of years.

Red Supremacy states however that species adapt in a progressive biological arms race within one another; thus those who survive within the envrionment pass on successful adaptations to the next generation. (co-evolution)

Therefore if evolution is wholey dependant on mutations; the line between successful adaptations and congenetal disease is nil.

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Sunday, December 17, 2006

9 crimes - damien rice

like the song...

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Thursday, December 14, 2006

scubs snippit

i do like scrubs... and dr coxs character

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what we are...

i am sure i watched this on tv, it makes a good point, i often smile and laugh and are question for why i am being so...

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Wednesday, December 13, 2006

amora baby...

follow linky goodness...


social intelligence

wet wear in action...

The simple truth is before the spoken language we communicated through body language and eye signals. The problem now is that we do not follow our instincts but cling onto social construct and hence a fractured society arises.

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utube: out of control

watch these my god its funny

she likes him...

wait for it...


and again...

good one too..

this one is alright too...

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Tuesday, December 12, 2006

torn - imbrugli

said she..

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that day - imbruglia

i love the speed that she talks...

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rottadam - beautiful south

don't marry her - beautiful

little time - beautiful south


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song for whoever - beautiful south

lol...take that love songs

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nothing -o'conner



handbags - stereo


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traffic - stereo


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tree- stereo


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just looking- sterephonics

the things i want...

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father christmas- grey lake

vid is naff but its a good song, funny how some people think its meant to be cheery... you see what I mean by the naff vid


Monday, December 11, 2006

flowers- travis


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raining - travis


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sing - travis


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Sunday, December 10, 2006

Politics of exclusion

Scientific reserach shows that social exclusion actually causes changes in a person's brain function and can lead to poor decision-making and a diminished learning ability.

I fully agree, humans are social creatures and thus suffer if they are excluded.

The politics of exclusion originates from competition laws within our species, which is over emphasized in modern culture. Arising a fractured society.

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quote your brain out

quotey goodness...

To understand human nature is to understand one's self

some of us are drowing in our ignorance

I wish there was a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence. There's a knob called 'brightness,' but it doesn't work. - Gallagher

people exchange one beliefe system for another

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Rudyard Kipling

A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs. It's jolted by every pebble on the road.
Henry Ward Beecher


babylon- david gray


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Tuesday, December 05, 2006

writing - travis


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Bitter sweet- Verve

bitter sweet


Sky - Sonique

oh yerh

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Sonique - it feels so good


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goovejet - SEB


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Be Mine - David gray


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Monday, December 04, 2006

Mad World

good song...

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Sail away - David Gray

good video... ;) brilliant lyrics

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Erich Fromm asks an important question in Sane Society, is the society we live in insane?

We operate on a level of ruthless logic, society is greater than the individual; the individual who has become a trapped lab rat in a worthless maze.

Society is made out of individuals, we make the world in which we live.

Which begs the question what is sane? We now know that we are constructed of DNA, our memorys electro-chemcial sequences, a brain mass three times bigger than any other species on the planet...

Yet why is the soul of man lost in the machine? We can not just merely operate. Humans are greater than the sum of thier parts.

If the 21st Century is the product of countless social victories, Why do we suffer now so much from social disfunctions?

People assume you come from a normal family background and thus those who don't are lost.

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Sunday, December 03, 2006

Stone by Stone - catatonia

good song, the video element is out of syn

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when i grow up - garbage

classic, love the video dance routine...

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only happy when it rains

good one...

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giving you up - kylie

good song, peppy...

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Saturday, December 02, 2006

Scream if you want to go faster - Geri

Good peppy song, like it....

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Friday, December 01, 2006

Gone - Kosheen

the lyrics are sublime in this one...

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harder - kosheen

works well with the video, comes to a head well

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Hungry - kosheen

good song, love it...

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Catch u -Kosheen

brilliant lyrics, kosheen is always good...

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Favourite game

good song, funny video too...

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Hanging around- Cardigans

good lyrics...its been bounching around my head

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play dead - bjork

good one

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Big Time Senuality - Bjork


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