Tin Universe Monthly #6

by Brian C. Williams

SYSTEM*PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS:

  THE PAST FORWARD

  BY

  BRIAN C. WILLIAMS

  EDITEDING HELP BY

  MELINDA HAROLD

  BLOODWASTE BOOKS

  The sale of this book without its cover….well, is, sort of, impossible since it really does not have a cover but let us go through the legal spray out anyways. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Hands up to you who have books like this in your collection? Now that I have put my hand down we can continue with the credits and copyright and legal and stuff that people just do not ever pay attention to unless it is pumping their own horn.

  An Original Publication of BLOODWASTE BOOKS

  A Bloodwaste Books book published by

  System*Publishing, a division of System*Productions

  Melbourne, Florida

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead or living dead, is entirely and very much so in the coincidental.

  Copyright © 2010, Brian C. Williams, System*Productions. THE PAST FORWARD and all related titles, characters, and elements are trademarks of System*Productions. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. While unauthorized reproduction is sometimes needed, please remember us writers types are for the most part a poor lot just in search of a ways to tell our stories and enough money to add to our Doctor Who collections….well, at least that fits me.

  First Bloodwaste Books ebook edition December 30th, 2010

  For more information on The Past Forward, the artists who contributed to this book, and The Tin Universe please contact System*Productions at billy.was.here@gmail.com

  Edited by Melinda Harold and Brian C. Williams

  Photography by Brian C. Williams

  Dedicated to

  Mar, someone tell her I dedicated this to her. Then she might read it :)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Melinda for editing help, Mar for not killing me in my sleep, the cats for the dreams. This books will have never been possible if not for my friends past and in the now: Wave, Mo, Shortfrie, Alia Sun, Brave Summers, Tankgirl, Oracle, Speede, July, Touch, Calm, Ghost, and for those I forgot to mention just give me a good swift kick the next time I see you.

  a little from the

  STEREO

  PREFACE

  In this book, this universe, this world, this reality, this Earth upon which the stories of this book take place are much like our own. Much like our own but different in a few noticeable ways: Different in the sort of ways brothers are different from one another and sisters are not. The way cats are different from one another but dogs are not…

  PROLOGUE

  2009

  Petra, Jordan

  He is not at all comfortable with being in this heat. The being born part of his life happen on Victoria Island in the Western part of Canada, some nice weather there. Living there a person is always able to wear a jacket, even in warm times. Right now he would strip if he had a chance to do so and drop into a pool of cold water.

  The youthful years of his life with his father were spent fishing the Grand Banks of Newfoundland after his mother left him with his father during one of his summer visits.

  He could have been happy in the Navy for the rest of his life considering he spent more time on the water than on land.

  As a young adult he entered the military. Soon he found himself in a Special Forces unit sitting around waiting underground for someone with superhuman abilities to go insane at the world, a certain someone whose name starts with a P.

  During his time in Special Forces is where he developed a great love for music and reading, taking into consideration that that was just about all he had to do while playing military gofer sit and stay.

  After the thoughts of that operation temporally died he got a transfer to London where at least it was a rainy sort of cold. That was a few more boring years spent listening to conversations about baseball, Leonard Nimoy, and the price of gas. Some spy stuff too.

  Have you heard of the phrase “mind numbing boredom”? The movies would let you think a spy would never use such a phrase, as usual they are wrong.

  He asked for a transfer to less boring.

  He got a transfer to less boring.

  He is standing in front of the Ed-Deir monastery on one of the hottest days of the year. One of the hottest days registered on temp anywhere in the world and he was waiting for a delivery. Standing around waiting isn’t very 007.

  His body is beginning to think he may run out of sweat at any moment.

  The area was secured and cleared for this meeting by other members of his unit. The Norah are the kind of military black ops unit that scares you by how much people don’t know about them. Some of the things people don’t know about them: What does their code name mean? Who do they actually take orders from? And what mission statement is the unit truly following?

  The day before this HOT one he was in the middle of a group of refugee camps mixed in with a million plus Palestinian refugees trying to find either someone who speaks English or even American, to find something to do while his men were out setting up today’s events. His importance required him to stay put in a secure place and when Palestinian refugee camps are considered an out of harm's way place, the other place to a center sit sounds downright terrifying.

  He didn’t find anything to do and ended up back at his camp on the Jordan River listening to the latest from the music industries factory of disposable pop culture. His unit rejoined him one less and with their mission in hand, “All this way to wait for someone to tell me something. Having an unlisted cell number just makes things difficult.”

  He was ready to drift off into the good old feeling of prickly heat in his pants when he noticed someone walking up the path towards the Ed-Deir, in his general direction. You guessed it; the individual looked like he stepped out of a market in Syria. Well, a market in Syria depicted in hidden racist fashion by the latest Hollywood action movie.

  When the new arrival was within spitting distance of him he could smell something diffidently not of any Souk he ever walked through. This person had just eaten the Coronal and as far as he could recall the nearest KFC was in Australia. This lingering scent meant this individual had the pull to pull power and push power and get him to Jordan very quickly and without any sort of red tape hassles.

  The stereotypically dressed individual looked over Agent Peak, ‘You’re sweating?’

  ‘It’s either your charm or maybe the heat.’ Agent Peak pauses, glares, and pushes his bottom lip out with his tongue, ‘It’s hot.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Well? You said you had information on him. Do you or are you just here to hold hands with me?’

  ‘He has a daughter.’

  ‘That’s information not worth an original Go-Bot. She has a fucking Social Security Number.’

  ‘But do you know he’s pawned her?’

  ‘Does she know what her family tree is knee deep in?’

  ‘From what we understand, yes.’

  ‘So he is going ahead with his plans since he was finally able to produce a female heir?’

  ‘The movements we have seen him make of late show that things look to be going that way. If they need she’ll be the sacrifice to control the next Pledge.’

  ‘So what’s our direction?’

  ‘Stay put for now. You will be signaled if things seem to be getting out of hand.’

  ‘And we come in and clean up?’

  �
�That is what you Norah guys do best. It only hurts everyone if anyone controls that power again.’

  Only a few thoughts passed through Agent Peak’s mind as the walking movie stereotype walked away from him and not one of them had anything to do with his actual mission direction.

  ‘Stay put he says.’

  He sighed and put back in his ear buds to blast some old school T.L.C. as he made motions to gather his team to his position. Now they start planning how not to go nuts waiting here for what could be their home for a few days or years. This is whats hard on his thoughts.

  CHAPTER 1

  You may have heard of me if you closely follow your local news, the local news if you live in Central Florida, or watch clips of other people’s local news on YouTube.

  And that’s so sad.

  I live in Melbourne. No, not in Australia, weren’t you paying attention? I live near the place where that thing fell from the sky and went all Deep Impact into the Sunshine state? They made a nice documentary called Stereo about it, well, that’s what I was told happen. I only have the documentary and such and others to go by because I wasn’t really able to notice even something happening as big as that in the state.

  You may have caught mention of me if you have an online news feed addiction that you have been scrolling through over the past year or there is even more of a chance of you having heard of me if you pay regular visits to the best blogs, with the best blogs always being those that fall into your attention or those of your friends, and no I’m not talking about the cat ones. Those blogs with photos of cats with junk on them should be banned for being too cute for their own good.

  Too Cute for Your Own Good should be made into law.

  I’m too cute for my own good CUFF ME AND TAKE ME AWAY!

  My sister just told me that sounded wrong?

  My sister is wrong.

  And since I was speaking of the law, before my sister tried to insert her perverted mind into my thinking, paragraphs like I’m doing in this introduction should also have a law against them to keep it from taking up the position of starting a book and driving an editor to snort Wonka Fun Dip. Glade I’m a character, grammar and spelling aren’t my problem though I’m aces at that sort of thing.

  It’s your entire fault Brian, Right there, in your face.

  I am “Coma Girl.” There I said it, which seems silly to me to type, and the few times I have spoken it out loud it was overly surreal, even if it is in reference to me, personally, direction of the “I” that I am, and those events that make up the origin of Coma Girl did happen to me, but it still doesn’t get any easier to think of myself along those lines.

  Check out the free Cut Chapter: School Of The Blind for a little dip into my brain.

  There was a lot of “me” up there. Please don’t get the idea that I’m an ego maniac. Though to note, it is cool that I get a dollar for every Coma Girl t-shirt sold. Who else has t-shirts sold with their face on them? Ok, in the age of Cafépress almost everyone, buuttt I’m getting off track here, back to the track. Florida Yesterday calls me, “The Woke up from Coma Girl.” One of the many home town free papers called me, “An Maple Accident.” These publications excel at communication and the use of the English language.

  They should hire some hack to write for them.

  …uncomfortable pause…

  Either of those descriptions I just pointed out (forget the “accident” one) or my grandma’s, “Our Miracle Child” get on my nerves. I am not a “child” and “girl” is used in much the same fashion as calling a woman a bitch because some redneck thinks she opened her mouth without a nod from him in permission that she can speak. It’s the under 18 form of bitch if you ask me. I am a person of 15 years of age, close to the 18 years of life point, and I deserve respect beyond being called a “child” or a “girl” no matter the situation it’s being used in.

  There was a little of my sister in my righteous indignation there.

  But I am Coma Girl, that deserves respect. I know how to speak Dharuk, Polari; and Sotho, Do you?

  Not that it does me any good because I’m still going to have to take French.

  Sorry for another crazy group of writing there. It is not an easy thing to write an introduction to your life events. Breaking the fourth wall and all aside this just isn’t starting out that well. So much for any best sales lists. I’m afraid I’m going to come off really bitchy in this introduction so I’m trying to be witty. I guess I’m not very good at it? When someone calls my sister a bitch she takes it on with pride, I need some bitch pride, though when it does happen to her she usually walks away with the title in pride after punching the proclaimed statement maker between the eyes.

  I’m not much of puncher. I don’t think Nancy Drew or Shirley Holmes ever punched anyone.

  My heroes.

  My sister has a criminal record…well, several. Yes, that did come out of nowhere. I might have “sister issues.” Do you know she once peed on someone’s windshield, a windshield that was attached to a formally brand new SUV which belonged to a very up the nose sort of person. The vehicle owner was a local councilmen who called her “mildly retarded” during a town council meeting about shutting down two local libraries, all in the poorer areas of Melbourne of course.

  My sis is a gem.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about her having a record?

  She’s giving me mean looks right now.

  Back on the number seven train, meaning getting back on track, besides coma related names I go by Gail Busiek. When I was young… younger, a child, my mother would sometimes call me Gail Ellen Busiek when shouting fo…well, at me, which is hilarious since I don’t have a middle name. Moms tend to do weird things with your name when searching you out for punishment. My sister’s “only when she was in trouble middle name” was Crowe. Yeah, we haven’t been able to find out why?

  Ever since I came out of the coma things have been a little strange. Not strange in ways such as me coming out of it named Ellen or with the ability to see through walls or find out there are two worlds, one of my subconscious and one of our world. Nor do I have psychic powers and a love for walking sticks. All of those are interesting things to have in your story but not relevant here, just more of my wondering brain.

  I do not remember anything from my two year hospital stay in a coma state. If you look up Coma you will find that it says: a coma (from the Greek κῶμα koma, meaning deep sleep) is a profound state of unconsciousness. When I told my sister how proud I was that I was something “profound” she also reminded me that I went into a coma because of head trauma, “You were in a brain dead empty bottle state.”

  “You fell out of a tree.”

  That’s her.

  It is a special kind of love we have between us, myself and my sister.

  “Then you feel down some steps.”

  She’s a flea market gem.

  On the Ranchos Los Amigos Scale my head bonk was pretty bad. I do not recall anything from the year it happen. The RLAS is a more complex scale; which is one of those medical scales that confuses even genious like myself. The scale consists of eight separate levels, and is often used in the first few weeks or months of coma while the patient (which was me) is under close observation, when shifts between levels are more frequent.

  But I go on with details, don’t want to Bore You Into A Coma…

  … I thought it was funny…course all of that Ranchos stuff could be complete bullocks because I looked it all up on Wikipedia. Plus Ranchos Los Amigos sounds way too much like a meal deal at T-Bell.

  My strange out of the coma strangeness has me coming out of all of it smarter than how I went in.

  Way smarter.

  Like Dougie Howsier smarter, (old school Neil Patrick Harris for those who don’t watch reruns, and wasn’t that the best How I Meet Your Mother episode when he did his computer journal at the end?)

  Many doctors have poked and studied me and decided something just clicked in my brain but no
matter the how now I know things like: The Redtail Chub has a habitat of living in rocky runs and pools of creeks and small rivers. I know this though I have never been fishing in my life. Explain that?

  I also know stuff like: In 1494 Henry VII’s position was strengthened by the passage of Poyning’s Laws and the fact that Neil Diamond was a fencer or maybe…?. I think I heard that last one on House the other night? Mom is in love with Wilson and watches it all the time.

  Things seep into my brain from passenger side life viewing. Most of the doctors who have studied my brain have the opinion that I have a sort of total and uncontrollable recall of information which has entered my brain in passing. I’m sort of a super-computer with a glitch.

  I’m a glitch.

  “You’re most defiantly a glitch.”

  That’s close to bitch?

  My sudden level of intelligence brings out for the most part one reaction from other people, they become haters. I got that from watching wrestling one night with Jeff, my sister’s best friend. Jeff is cool and you will like him. Watching pro-wrestling is one of his many amusing inconsistencies.

  After taking a special test I will be skipping ahead to my junior year of high school; which is something my older sister Karen is not the happiest about, though she will not say anything, a sister knows though, gem she may be.

  So I guess we need to get on with things for this book because the writer is tapping his watch for me to wrap things up here with this introduction.

  Here comes “Coma Girl” high school,

  Here comes “freak brain”,

  Here comes the future editor of Doctor Who Magazine,

  “Karen, does this shirt say junior?”

  “That shirt says I’m a spaz who dresses like a comic geek.”

  Gem.

  “Do you know some scientists think the moon may contain large mineral deposits of diamonds and gold?” Gail