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Sunlight Through The Shadows 1994 09
Sunlight Through The Shadows
Volume II, Issue 9 Sept. 1st, 1994
Welcome........................................Joe DeRouen
Editorial: Why This Is Late . . . Again........Joe DeRouen
Staff of STTS.............................................
Special Survey for STTS Readers - Now offering prizes!....
Monthly Prize Giveaway Details....and Winners!............
SysOps - Read This to Win Prizes!.........................
>> --------------- Monthly Columns ---------------------<<
STTS Mailbag..............................................
Quick Tips and Fixes...........................Joe DeRouen
The Question & Answers Session.................Joe DeRouen
SportsView.................................Thomas Van Hook
My View: Baseball..........................Thomas Van Hook
ÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿ Advertisement-Channel 1 BBS
>> --------------- Feature Articles --------------------<<
Interview: Elizabeth Orne of Mars BBS.......L. Shawn Aiken
STTS Survey Results............................Joe DeRouen
ÿ Advertisement-Exec-PC BBS
>> ------------------- Reviews -------------------------<<
(Software) Blue Wave Offline Mail Reader..Louis Turbeville
(Software) TIME: Man of the Year CD-ROM...Louis Turbeville
(Movie) It Could Happen To You...............Bruce Diamond
(Movie) Corinna, Corinna.....................Bruce Diamond
(Movie) The Little Rascals...................Bruce Diamond
(Movie) Airheads.............................Bruce Diamond
(Music) Fumbling Towards Ecstasy/McLachlan...Andee SoRelle
(Music) Blackest Sabbath/Black Sabbath.....Thomas Van Hook
(Music) Parallel Dreams/Lorenna McKennitt..Thomas Van Hook
(Book) Chrome Circle/Lackey & Dixon.......Thomas Van Hook
ÿ Advertisement-T&J Software
>> ------------------- Fiction -------------------------<<
The Powers That Be..........................L. Shawn Aiken
Madge's Medal...............................Franchot Lewis
Lyric.............................................Ed Davis
ÿ Advertisement-Chrysalis BBS
>> ------------------- Poetry --------------------------<<
Natalie, Those Children Are Calling........Daniel Sendecki
Laura...............................................Tamara
Turn Away......................................J. Guenther
Eternity......................................Sean Donahue
ÿ Advertisement-Texas Talk BBS
>> ------------------- Humour --------------------------<<
Top Ten List...................................Joe DeRouen
"A Bum Walked Up To Me and Said..." .........Bruce Diamond
>> --------------- Advertisements ----------------------<<
Channel 1 BBS
Exec-PC BBS
T&J Software
Chrysalis BBS
Texas Talk
>> ----------------- Information -----------------------<<
How to get STTS Magazine..................................
** SPECIAL OFFER!! **.....................................
Submission Information & Pay Rates........................
Advertiser Information (Businesses & Personal)............
Contact Points............................................
Distribution Sites........................................
Distribution Via Networks.................................
End Notes......................................Joe DeRouen
²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²²² STTS Magazine
² ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ² Vol. II, No. 9
² ³ ³ ² Sept. 1st, 1994
² ³ Everyone's reading . . . ß ß ³ ²
² ³ Ûø..øÛ ³ ²
² ³ Sunlight Through The Shadows(tm) ÛÀÄÄÙÛ ³ ²
² ³ ÛÜ ÛÛÛ ³ ²
² ³ ÜÜ ÛÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÛÛ ³ ²
² ³ Üܲ²ÜÜ ÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛ ³ ² Fiction
² ³ ²²²²°° ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛÛÛ ³ ² Poetry
² ³ ²²²²°° ßßßßÛ ÛÛÛÛÛ ³ ² Reviews
² ³ ²²²²ßß °²°°°°°°²° ÜÛ ÜÜ ÜÜÜ ³ ²
² ³ ßßßßß ³ ² Humour
² ³ Û ÛÛ ßßßßßßß Û ³ ² BBS News
² ³ Û Ü ÜÜ ßßß Û ³ ² Editorials
² ³ Ü ³ ²
² ³ Joe DeRouen, Publisher ßßÜÜßß ÛÛ ³ ² . . . & more!
² ³ L. Shawn Aiken, Asst. Ed. ÛßßÜÜ ÜÜ Ü ³ ²
² ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ ²
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With Heather DeRouen, Bruce Diamond, and Tamara
Welcome
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Welcome to Sunlight Through The Shadows magazine! In this issue, as well
as in the future, STTS will strive to bring you the best in fiction,
poetry, reviews, article, and other assorted reading material.
STTS Magazine has no general "theme" aside from good writing, innovative
concepts, and the unique execution of those concepts.
STTS wouldn't have been possible without the aid, support, and guidance
of three women:
Inez Harrison, publisher of Poetry In Motion newsletter. Her's was the
first electronic magazine I ever laid eyes upon, and also the first such
magazine to publish my work. She's given me advice, and, more
importantly, inspiration.
Lucia Chambers, publisher of Smoke & Mirrors Elec. Magazine and head of
Pen & Brush Network. She gave me advice on running a magazine,
encouragement, and hints as to the kind of people to look for in
writers.
Heather DeRouen, my wife. Listed last here, but always first in my
heart. She's proofread manuscripts, inspired me, listened to me, and,
most importantly, loved me. Never could I find a better woman to live
life by my side, nor a better friend.
Now that that's said and done... Again, welcome to Sunlight Through The
Shadows Magazine! I hope you enjoy it.
Joe DeRouen
Editorial: Why This Is Late . . . Again
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
I have a good reason this time. I promise. As of September first,
1994, I became a published (read: paid!) writer. Furthermore, the piece
in question was the first installment in a new column. But I digress.
In several areas of the USA, there are free monthly publications called
COMPUTER CURRENTS. Dallas has one, and that's the magazine I'm writing
for. Hopefully, if all you kind folks that are lucky enough to have a
local version of COMPUTER CURRENTS write in and ask for it, I'll go
national before too long. <Grin>
The monthly column, ASK THE TECH: QUICK TIPS AND FIXES, is pretty
self-explanatory. People write in with questions or problems they're
having or have had with computers, BBS's, or software, and I try to
solve them. The article will also appear here each month, in the
monthly columns section. Read it and let me know what you think!
I'm also doing a computer/BBS-orientated "Top-Ten List" for COMPUTER
CURRENTS. Regular readers will know that such lists have been appearing
in these electronic pages all along. The ones in CC will differ,
however, in the fact that they'll *always* be computer-related. With
STTS, I'm able to do pretty much whatever strikes my fancy. <G>
Anyway, that's why this issue is late. I've been busy working on the
column and the top ten list, as well as other possible paid submissions.
I shan't forgo STTS, however. With the recent addition of Shawn Aiken
as Assistant Editor (notice, Shawn - Your title gets Caps! <G>) things
should start going a bit more smoothly. The next issue might even be
out on time. Or closer, at least.
At any rate, that's my explanation. Thanks for sticking with STTS and
making it one of the most popular e-mags out there!
Joe DeRouen, Sept. 5th 1994
The Staff and Contributing Writers of Sunlight Through The Shadows
------------------------------------------------------------------
The Staff
---------
Joe DeRouen............................Publisher and Editor
L. Shawn Aiken.........................Assistant Editor
Heather DeRouen........................Book Reviews
Bruce Diamond..........................Movie Reviews
Tamara.................................House Poet
Joe DeRouen publishes, edits, and writes for STTS magazine. He's had
poetry and fiction published in several on-line magazines and a few
paper publications as well. He's written exactly 1.5 novels, none of
which, alas, have seen the light of publication. He attends college
part-time in search of that always-elusive english degree. In his
spare time, he enjoys reading, running his BBS, collecting music,
playing with his five cats, singing opera, hunting pseudopods, and
most importantly spending time with his beautiful wife Heather.
L. Shawn Aiken dropped out of college when he realized that they
couldn't teach him the two things he wanted to do; live successfully,
and write. He had to find out these things all by himself on the
road. Thus he became a road scholar. After spending his life hopping
country to country, state to state, he now feels confident in his
abilities and is working on his literary career. His main endevour is
to become successful in the speculative fiction area, but he enjoys
writing all forms of literary art.
Heather DeRouen writes software for the healthcare industry, CoSysOps
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS, enjoys playing with her five cats,
cross-stitching, and reading. Most of all, she enjoys spending time
with her dapper, charming, witty, and handsome (not to mention modest)
husband Joe. Heather's help towards editing and proofreading this
magazine has been immeasurable.
Bruce Diamond, part-time pseudopod and ruler of a small island chain
off the coast of Chil, spends his time imitating desk lamps when he
isn't watching and critiquing movies for LIGHTS OUT, his BBS movie
review publication (now syndicated to over 20 boards). Recently,
Bruce became the monthly movie critic for VALLEY REVIEW MAGAZINE,
published out of Pennsylvania. LIGHTS OUT, now two years old, is
available through the Rime or P&B Networks by dropping a note to
Joe DeRouen, courtesy of Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. The
magazine will soon be available through Fido file request and
Internet FTP. In the Dallas area, Bruce's distributor is Jay
Gaines' BBS AMERICA (214-994-0093). Bruce is a freelance writer
and video producer in the Dallas/Fort Worth area.
There is very little known about Tamara, and she prefers to let it
remain that way. She's a woman of mystery and prefers to remain hidden
in the shadows of the BBS world. (Enigmatic, don't you think?)
Contributing Writers
--------------------
Ed Davis...............................Fiction
Sean A. Donahue........................Poetry
J. Guenther............................Poetry
Daniel Sendecki........................Fiction, Poetry
Andee SoRelle..........................Music Review
Louis Turbeville.......................Software Reviews
Thomas Van Hook........................My View, Music Review
Ed Davis has been scribbling seriously or has at least enjoyed the
electronic equivalent, since 1981. Prior to that, his literary efforts
were confined to whatever scrap paper he could find on a work bench at
break or lunch time, since he was spending his working hours making
chips and money in the guise of a Journeyman Machinist. Married to
the same lady for 26 years and with two children still hovering
uncomfortably close to the nest, Ed continues to write down his
thoughts electronically. Check out the file NEWBOOK.ZIP, available
from STTS BBS, for more of his work.
Sean A. Donahue does not have any publishing ties whatsoever. He has
written over 4,192 poems. Only 38 have seen to survive the Mighty
Morphin Power Rangers. The time in which normal people say is spare,
he tries to use to study for school at Texas Tech University. This is
Sean's first published poem and he hopes that it is not his last. He
has written exactly 428 novels all starting with "It was a dark and
stormy night." None ofthem have gotten past the second paragraph. In
whatever time he has left, he enjoys reading, riting, and rithmatic.
He has an creative writing minor, a history minor, and a Honorary
Doctorate in B.S. from Bowling Green State University. He dedicates
his writing to those who are without love and hope. And that's no
B.S.
Grant Guenther, sometimes known as J. Guenther, confesses to be from a
long-lost Martian colony, but in-depth investigations reveals that he
was born and raised in a small but well-to-do community called
Hartland in Wisconsin. A senior, he has written several collections
of poems, and won many awards from his high school literary magazine,
including 1st place for poetry and short-short fiction. He is the
editor-in-chief of the school newspaper and writes as a humor
columnist (or at least he thinks so).
Daniel Sendecki is a young, emerging, Canadian writer who lives
in Burlington, Ontario. Currently, Daniel is pursuing his writing
interests at home but intends to study literature at McGill
University, in Montreal, Quebec.
Andee SoRelle is a visual artist working in both paint and clay.
She lives in the Dallas, Texas area and enjoys BBSing, (of course!)
music, film, and kvetching about her day job.
Louis Turbeville currently works as a computer analyst for the Air
Force. He's originally from Hawaii (about an 1/8 Hawaiian <everyone
seems to ask>) and has a BBA in Management Information Systems from the
University of Hawaii. Louis is married and has a two year old son who
keeps him busy, especially when he wants to sit at the computer and
write. His interest in writing was nurtured by his wife, a journalism
and english major who's yet to be published and holds this very much
against Louis. <G> He's had a couple of reviews published on
WindowsOnLine Review Magazine and hopes to broaden his base of published
media in the near future.
Author Unknown (oddly enough, his real name) has had several stories,
poems, novels, plays, and pieces of artwork published throughout the
world dating back to the dawn of man. So far, he hasn't received one
red cent in royalties.
Thomas Van Hook resides in Dallas, where he works as a contract
employee for the Federal Reserve Automation Services. Having served
eight years in the USAF, he is happy to finally be free and able to
pursue the dreams of his heart. At the age of 29, he is looking
forward to many new adventures and experiences within the realms of
the Elven kind. He enjoys reading, writing, sports of all kinds, his
son Corey and the attentions of any Elven women that seem interested
(not necessarily in that order). Recently divorced, he is trying to
restore order and balance to his life without losing what little is
left of his sanity.
STTS Survey
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Please fill out the following survey. This article is duplicated in the
ZIP archive as SURVEY.TXT. If you're reading this on-line and haven't
access to that file, please do a screen capture of this article and
fill it out that way. If all else fails, just write your answers down
(on paper or in an ASCII file) and include the question's number beside
your answer.
Everyone who answers the survey will have their name placed in a hat
and, at the start of the following month, we'll draw a name to receive a
special prize. Check out the Monthly Prize Giveaway article (from the
main menu) for more details.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1. Name: _____________________________________________________________
2. Mailing address: __________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
3. Date of birth: (Mm/Dd/YYyy) _______________________________________
4. Sex: ______________________________________________________________
5. Where did you read/download this copy of STTS Magazine? (Include BBS
and BBS number, please)
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
6. Do you prefer to read STTS while on-line or download it to read
at your own convenience? ( ) On-Line ( ) Download
7. Are you a SysOp? ( ) Yes ( ) No (if "No", skip to 10)
8. If so, what is your BBS name, number, baud rate?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
9. Do you currently carry STTS Mag?
( ) Yes ( ) No ( ) I don't carry it, but I want to
I carry STTS: ( ) On-Line, ( ) For Download, ( ) or Both
10. What do you enjoy the MOST about STTS Mag?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
11. What do you enjoy LEAST about STTS Mag?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
12. Please rate the following parts of STTS on a scale of 1-10, 10 being
excellent and 1 being awful. (if no opinion, X)
Fiction ___ Poetry ___ Movie reviews ___
Book reviews ___ CD Reviews ___ Feature Articles ___
Software reviews --- Humour --- Top Ten List ---
Question&Answers ___ Editorial ___ ANSI Coverart ___
MonsterBBSReview --- My View --- STTS BBS News ---
RIP Coverart ___ Misc. Info ---
13. What would you like to see (or see more of) in future issues
of STTS Mag?
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Return the survey to me via any of the following options:
A) Pen & Brush Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site
->5320, in any conference.
B) RIME Net - A PRIVATE, ROUTED message to JOE DEROUEN at site ->5320,
in either the COMMON or SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE SHADOWS MAGAZINE
conference.
C) WME Net - A PRIVATE message to JOE DEROUEN in the NET CHAT
conference.
D) Internet - Send a message containing your complete survey to
Joe.DeRouen@Chrysalis.org
E) My BBS - (214) 629-8793 24 hrs. a day 1200-14,000 baud. Upload the
file SURVEY.TXT (change the name first! Change it to something like
the first eight digits of your last name (or less, if your name
doesn't have eight digits) and the ext of .SUR) Immediate access is
gained to my system via filling out the new user questionnaire.
F) U.S. Postal Service - Send the survey either printed out or on a disk
to: Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
Sunlight Through The Shadows Monthly Prize Giveaway
Each month, STTS magazine will be giving away a prize. The prizes will
range from registered versions of popular shareware packages to Compact
Discs, to a year subscription (via a disk mailed to you) to STTS
On-Line! In other words, you never know what we'll be giving away next!
If the prize is shareware/software, unless otherwise noted, the
versions available will be IBM compatible only. If another version
is available, we'll make a note of that and ask you to let us know what
system you have.
To enter, please answer the survey located elsewhere in this issue.
If you're reading it offline, edit the file SURVEY.TXT with an ASCII
word processor, fill it out, and send it in one of the many ways
listed. If you're reading it online, do a screen capture of the STTS
Magazine Survey (available from the main menu), fill it out, and send
it in.
To be eligible for the contest every month, you just have to fill out
the survey once. Everyone who answer's name will go into a hat and
a winner will be drawn out each and every month.
PRIZE WINNER THIS MONTH
Dave Crumb of Chicago, Illinois sent in the winning survey via the
Internet, and wins Cineplay's FREE DC vga/soundblaster claymation
tour de force. Congratulations, Dave!
PRIZE FOR SEPTEMBER
Sept.'s prize (to be sent out sometime shortly after Oct. 1st) is
three free months of full access on the mega-BBS Channel 1, located
in Cambridge, Mass.
CHANNEL 1 MEMBERSHIP
Enjoy three FREE months of complete and full access to Channel 1, one
of the nation's largest systems. Download all the files your hard
drive can contain, play games, and ensconce yourself in net mail!
Channel 1 can be perused via (617) 354-3230. Tell 'em STTS Magazine
sent you!
SysOp Announcement
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Tom Wildoner of T&J Software has been kind enough to donate twelve
twenty dollar ($20.00) credits to STTS, good for purchase towards one of
Tom's many great BBS doors!
The first SysOp each month to call my BBS and send me a (C)omment saying
that s/he agrees to be a dist. site for STTS Magazine *and* post the
STTS 1-page logon screen for at least twelve months wins the prize.
(Being a dist. site costs a SysOp nothing except possibly calling to
download the file each month)
If your BBS is already a dist. site, call and leave me a comment giving
me a general update as to how many people downloaded the latest issue,
how many read it online, etc. If you do this, and agree to run the
afore-mentioned logon screen, *and* you're the first SysOp to call, you
win the prize!
The $20.00 credit is good on all T&J Doors except for adult doors.
You'll be notified if you won or not (and given a code that you'll have
t give to Tom to claim your credit) via e-mail only, so be sure to call
back to check your messages!
STTS BBS's number is (214) 620-8793. It supports modem speeds of up to
14,400 baud and is open 24 hours a day. Be sure to download a few files
while you're there! :)
Thanks,
Joe DeRouen
* The STTS logon screen mentioned above is included in this archive.
Filename: STTSSCRN.ZIP.
* Look at the T&J Software Ad elsewhere in this issue for a listing
of their great doors!
STTS Mailbag
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
========================================================================
<PUBLIC><ECHO>
Number : 1344 of 1370 Date: 07/10/94 07:33
Confer : Poetry & Prose <WME>
From : Allyssa Lathan
To : Joe Derouen
Subject : July
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy... :)
After months of seeing your posts about each issue coming out,
the BBS I'm on now has STTS. I've been reading back issues a lot,
but I think I can catch up pretty quickly... <G>
'Lyssa, now a devoted STTS-reader
Some really good poetry and fiction in STTS, but you'd know
that, wouldn't you. (:
---
þ TriNet: * Viking's Domain * Brownsville, MD * (301)432-5922 * 14.4 USR
========================================================================
========================================================================
Msg#: 8783 *Internet*
07-11-94 19:47:12
From: ARTHUR.ECKARD@THE-SPA.COM
To: JOE DEROUEN (Rcvd)
Subj: AUTHOR ADDRESS
To: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
Hi Joe,
Just DLd SUN9407.ZIP and found myself stunned.
I really don't know what to say - I've only tried to write this note a
dozen times.
First place in Fiction.
Thank you very much. I'm honored. This is the first piece of work I've
ever been paid for. I'm really overwhelmed and I don't know what else to
say.
Thank you very much. You have no idea what this means to me. I hope
you're not too big for me the next time I have something to submit.
A.M.Eckard | arthur.eckard@the-spa.com
* RM 1.3 00253 * In the land of the trogdolytes the erudite man is food.
========================================================================
========================================================================
Quick Tips and Fixes
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
[Originally published in COMPUTER CURRENTS magazine]
QUICK TIPS AND FIXES
by Joe DeRouen
Q: I'd love to take a ride on the Information Superhighway, but I'm not
even sure how to hitchhike! Where do I get started?
A: There's been so much coverage of the Internet in the last year that
it would seem that it's the easiest thing in the world to get
involved in. It's not. The Internet's backbone is the UNIX system,
which features commands more arcane than DOS could ever be.
Until a universal graphic user interface is developed for access into
the Internet, it's going to remain a great and challenging learning
experience. The challenge can be met, however.
If you're currently on local bulletin board systems, log onto your
favorite one. Go into the file area and do a text search for the
word "Internet". Chances are, they'll have at least one Internet
help file. Files in particular to keep an eye out for are THE
BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO THE INTERNET (an excellent guide to getting
started) or ZEN AND THE ART OF THE INTERNET. They're free programs
and well worth the download time.
If you don't have access to a modem, check out your local bookstore
or library. You'll have several dozen different books to choose from
in helping you access the Internet. A couple of good ones are THE
INTERNET FOR DUMMIES (John Levine and Carol Baroudi, IDG Books) and
TEACH YOURSELF THE INTERNET - AROUND THE WORLD IN 21 DAYS. (Neil
Randall, Sams Publishing) Either book can be had for around twenty
dollars.
With a little patience and a bit of intestinal fortitude, you'll be
cruising the Net's highways and byways in no time!
Q: Help! I just erased my AUTOEXEC.BAT and CONFIG.SYS, and now I can't
get anything to come up. What should I do?
A: When your computer can't find those two files, it boots up, asks you
for the date and time, and drops you into C:\. What next? Fear not,
for all is not lost. Actually, you've lost very little. Those two
files just tell your computer how to act.
Type PATH=C:\DOS. (If your DOS directory isn't on C, substitute the
correct drive instead) Then type UNDELETE. As DOS's UNDELETE
program scrolls through the erased files, look for ?UTOEXEC.BAT and
?ONFIG.SYS. It'll ask you to supply the first character of each
filename. Do so, and it's like it never happened.
If you're using an older version of DOS that doesn't support UNDELETE
(and you don't have NORTON UTILITIES, PC TOOLS, or another program
that offers an UNERASE option) your files are pretty much lost
forever. There's nothing much left to do now except rebuild the
files from memory.
To safeguard against this happening in the future, (even if you DO
have UNDELETE - The program isn't failsafe!) always keep a current
copy of your AUTOEXEC.BAT and CONFIG.SYS on a write-protected floppy,
in a safe place. That way, you'll always have a backup of your files
and a permanent solution to the delete-happy frenzy that we all
occasionally fall prey to.
To be even safer, make a paper copy of the two files. Fold them into
an envelope and toss them in your desk drawer. You'll probably never
need them, but you'll be thankful that they're there if you ever do.
Q: My Super VGA monitor is developing a rash! This "rash" consists of
blurs and distortions in the screen that seem to change and move
around as time passes. What's the problem?
A: It could be a variety of different things. The most probable
culprit, however, is your phone. If you're like me, you love to talk
while you're playing games or entering data. If you have a full-size
phone with a large metal base, it most likely contains magnets that
aren't very well shielded. Placing a full-size phone closer than
about a foot in front of the monitor can cause problems.
The magnets in the phone cause the phosphor (which make up the pixels
in the screen) to glow differently than the rest of the screen. It's
nothing too serious, though. Just move your phone or replace it with
a smaller model, preferably a handheld unit.
All phones contain magnets, of course, but smaller phones contains
smaller magnets that really aren't as harmful to your screen. Newer
phones also have better shielding.
The damage to your screen isn't permanent and should clear up fairly
soon. If it doesn't, you'll have to have your monitor "de-gaussed".
(a procedure that involves running a very large magnet over your
monitor) De-gaussing is relatively inexpensive and can be done at
most any computer repair shop or service.
If your phone *doesn't* seem to be the problem, it could be another
magnetic source. Check out any large, bulky appliances that happen
to be hanging around your monitor.
If it's obvious that isn't the source of your frustrations, contact
the manufacturer of your monitor immediately. More than likely, you
have a defective screen that's probably still covered in your
warranty.
Are you having a problem with your computer? Write to Joe via Sunlight
Through The Shadows BBS at 214/620-8793, through the internet at
Joe.DeRouen@Chrysalis.ORG, or CompuServe at 73654,1732. Joe can also be
reached at any of the other points listed in Contact Points, elsewhere
in this issue.
The Question and Answers Session
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
The Question and Answers Session will be back next month. This feature
is on hiatus until then.
SportsView
Copyright (c) 1994, Thomas Van Hook
All Rights Reserved
As you read this, Major League Baseball will probably be in or near the third
week of the Players' Strike. It's really interesting to note that fan apathy
towards either side is at an all-time high. My prediction, however, is that
the fans that are disgusted with the actions of both players and owners will
come back to the Major League ballparks in droves when the season resumes.
Like the fans of past strikes, today's fans are angry over escalating
salaries, and like the fans of yester-year, their memories will be short and
forgiving when the strike is over. If the fans of today would make a stand
over the escalating prices of ballpark seats and escalating player salaries,
then maybe the owners and players would realize that they have it better
financially than most of their fans do.
Football is upon us. Preseason is coming to end as I write this, and the
season's beginning is right around the corner. There will be many surprises
along the way, but I have my own predictions to give to you. We start with
the NFC East:
NFC East
1. Dallas
2. Washington
3. New York Giants
4. Philadelphia
5. Arizona
Dallas will once again storm to the top of the conference on the arm of Aikman
and the legs of Smith. Their defense is somewhat suspect in the linebacking
corps, which will sink them in the end. Washington will hold second on the
strength of their BIG (!) offensive line. Otherwise their entire team is
suspect after this. The New York Giants will rise to third solely on the
backs of their defense. The offense is a bit suspect with a starting rookie
quarterback. Philadelphia will find it will be very difficult to ask Randall
Cunningham to win it all for them. Arizona is on the track with Buddy Ryan,
but this won't be their year.
NFC Central
1. Detriot
2. Chicago
3. Tampa Bay
4. Minnesota
5. Green Bay
Detriot will barely take this conference away from the Monsters of the Midway
in Chicago. However, Barry Sanders will show that he is on the last years of
his career. Tampa Bay will be somewhat of a surprise, but they still need to
let their entire offense loose during the game. Even Warren Moon won't help
Minnesota, which can thank Green Bay for the cellar cushion. Green Bay had
better pack it in, their offense has trouble even remembering where the ball
is.
NFC West
1. Atlanta
2. New Orleans
3. Los Angeles Rams
4. San Fransisco
Welcome Atlanta Falcons, you have finally arrived! The Falcons will be the
most improved team in the NFL this year. Get ready folks, because they will
be going to the Big Dance before this decade is out. New Orleans made some
good off-season moves and is stronger than ever. It's a shame that they have
to play in the same division as Atlanta. The Rams look better than they have
for the past few years. The 49ers have finally hit rock bottom. It's hard to
win games when your team is saturated with egos.
AFC East
1. Buffalo
2. Miami
3. New England
4. Indianapolis
5. New York Jets
Buffalo fields a strong team, but they will have trouble taking their division
over a much-improved Miami Dolphins team. Look for a full-season battle for
the top spot here. New England looks better and better, but they have to play
both Buffalo and Miami twice this year. Indianapolis continues to look like
one of the three blind mice. The Jets are a plane without an engine.
AFC Central
1. Houston
2. Cleveland
3. Pittsburgh
4. Cincinnati
Houston finally comes into it's own with Cody Carlson at the helm, but just
barely. Cleveland and Pittsburgh will turn this division into the most hotly
contested division all year. Cincinnati hasn't got a prayer of making it this
year. They are just happy that there is a New York Jets team to look worse
than they do.
AFC West
1. Los Angeles Raiders
2. Denver
3. Kansas City
4. Seattle
5. San Diego
And here is my pick for the Super Bowl Champion: Los Angeles Raiders. The
Raiders look like they have finally put it all together. Denver finally got
some recievers for Elway, but their defense looks really thin this year.
Kansas City is resting it's hopes on has-beens Montana and Allen -- a bad
move. Seattle will improve, while San Diego joins their Major League Baseball
brethren in the basement.
Will Dallas make it to a third straight Super Sunday? Sure. And they will
find that two championships will be all they can have. The Raiders are my
pick to take it all this year.
Next month: A look at what we might have enjoyed during September in the
world of Baseball, and a quick peek at the world of Basketball. Ciao!
NFC Champion - Dallas Cowboys
AFC Champion - Oakland Raiders
Super Bowl Winner - Oakland Raiders
My View: Baseball
Copyright (c) 1994, Thomas Van Hook
All rights reserved
[Each month, a reader/writer is offered the opportunity to give his or
her viewpoint on a particular topic dear to them. If you'd like the
chance to air *Your* views in this forum, please contact Joe DeRouen
via one of the many ways listed in CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this
issue]
As of this writing, Major League Baseball is poised on the edge of it's
most exciting "second-half" in quite some time. The realignment that
took place during the winter has added to the excitement of the
potential division races. Not one single team is running away with
their division at this point in the season.
In the meantime, Ken Griffey Jr., Frank Thomas and Matt Williams have
very good chances of breaking Roger Maris' single-season home-run
record. Frank Thomas also has a real chance to become the first
Triple-Crown winner in quite some time. Attendance at most major league
parks is on pace to break last year's marks. Yes indeed, MLB is looking
at a summer that could be talked about for years to come.
Despite all the excitement of record-runs, increased attendance and
potential playoff races, baseball fans see the dark cloud of the
players' strike on the horizon for this season. It's really nothing
new. Strikes have been fairly common place since the late 70s within
baseball ('72, '73, '76, '80, '81, '85 and '90).
The Players' Union, which has made quite a few advances in how players
have been treated since the inception of the game, has basically come to
"loggerheads" with the owners over the issue of a salary-cap.
This salary cap is designed to keep to keep the owners within a set
level of spending concerning player's salaries. If this is agreed to,
the current system of arbitration will be obsolete. The players will no
longer be able to have their salaries raised to the astronomical levels
we have witnessed since the 1990 free agent signings.
The basic point here is that the owners stand to lose very little under
this proposed system, while the players stand to lose billions of
potential dollars. The game, however, stands to gain a lot through this
system.
Under the newest round of expansion, the current talent pool of players
has been dilued even further. The teams that can afford the "big" stars
are loading their teams up with such "gate-drawing" superstars. Teams
located in the smaller markets can't gain these superstars to effect
their turnstile counts.
Under the new system that is proposed by the owners, these smaller teams
will have a better chance to afford and obtain these stars for their
lineups. This should provide boosts for their turnstile counts and for
their team's on-field play.
A strike will hurt quite a few people. For instance, some cities depend
heavily on the revenue and taxes that the stadiums bring into their
budgets. Average citizens employed for the season by the stadiums as
vendors, merchandisers and the such, will see their pocketbooks
experience a drought in times where everyone is feeling the financial
"pinch."
The owners will be slightly hurt since the revenue of their team won't
be coming in on a regular basis, but most of the owners are financially
independent through other means. The players are working from guarenteed
contracts, and will make most of their contractual monies where they
play or not.
The young fans will experience a let-down as their idols (most notably
the three mentioned above that are chasing basbeball history) are sent
packing before the season draws to a close. And lastly, MLB itself will
be hurt as scores of fans (most who remember the strikes of the past)
leave MLB for other sports such as Football and Basketball.
Fans believe that they are powerless to influence players and owners in
such issues as salaries and the such. But they are wrong. Fans have a
lot of influence on the game. Fans pay the sharply escalating prices of
tickets. Fans are the ones that drop the dollar into the pockets' of
the players and owners. In today's game of baseball, the ALMIGHTY
dollar speaks very loudly.
If fans would refuse to pay the high prices at the games, the players
and owners might be able to see what ails baseball. If the Owners and
the Players' Union can resolve their differences and avert a strike,
remains to be seen. However, if a strike takes place, the long-term
effects on MLB could possibly be as devastating as the 1919 Black Sox
scandal.
That scandal almost sunk baseball, except that a savior named Herman
"The Babe" Ruth arrived on the scene and brought back the excitement
missing from the game. I'm not too sure that the greed of the players
and owners is going to find such a savior this time around.
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Mars, the Face, and the Bulletin Board:
An interview with Elizabeth Orne
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
All rights reserved
Elizabeth Orne is a programmer who runs THE MARS INFORMATION
EXCHANGE, a Dallas based computer bulletin board system that is
devoted to information related to interesting new discoveries about
Mars and other anomalies found throughout the solar system. While
interviewing her on the night of August 12th over her BBS, we began to
discuss governmental interference in the acquisition of data.
Suddenly the electricity went off at my home and I lost the entire
interview. Luckily Ms. Orne had been keeping her own log of the chat.
I don't REALLY think that the government had anything to do with it,
but you never know . . .
STTS: What were the demons that drove you into the world of BBSes?
MS. ORNE: Well, that's an interesting question. Two years ago I
decided to start a BBS to support my software users. <Ms. Orne writes
software for bankruptcy lawyers.> So I set it up and ran that for around
a year. It was about that time that I realized that none of my clients
ever called because most didn't know how to use a modem, and others
preferred that I come to their office to install updates for them.
STTS: What made you decide to set up THE MARS INFORMATION EXCHANGE?
MS. ORNE: About that time I picked up a copy of The Monuments of Mars by
Dick Hoagland. I had seen the book a couple of years previously but, for
some reason it didn't really catch my attention. Anyway, reading the book
was fascinating and I decided that I would log on few BBSes and see if there
was any information out there about the really interesting propositions that
Dick was making. I was amazed to discover that there was almost nothing
available. Well, since I was getting ready to shut down the BBS that I
was running for my business, and in light of my new interest in Mars and
Cydonia, The Mars Information Exchange was born.
STTS: Where do you get your information for TMIE?
MS. ORNE: I scoured BBSes everywhere across America for data. In fact, I
still do make regular 'bomb runs' on numerous BBSes <G>. The artifact
questions regarding Mars are of such singular importance that I really feel
that there is a large need for a central data base on the subject.
Also, at the time that I started TMIE, the Mars Observer was 3 or 4 months
out from Mars and according to Dick Hoagland and others it seemed that the
questions revolving around Cydonia where going to be answered in just a few
short months. Those days and weeks of waiting were filled with anxiety. I
remember the heart sinking feeling that I suffered when the Mars Observer
failed. It wasn't long after that that the Cydonia issue began to wane a
bit. It's really hard to keep specific subjects in the public eye. But, we
are going back to Mars in a couple of years and TMIE will still be here
collecting info and ready to distribute the answers to the questions posed
by Cydonia when the data finally arrives.
STTS: What specific parts of Hoagland's book caught your attention?
MS. ORNE: The Monuments of Mars by Dick Hoagland draws attention to a very
small region of Mars where Viking (this was a mission sent to Mars in the
70's) photos seemed to show pictures of a face and, what appears to be
intelligently constructed structures, just adjacent to the image of the
face. These photos have been scrutinized in great detail by many researchers
and, of course, this has resulted in two camps of scientist - those who think
that it's all a simple illusion created by lighting and those who think that
there is either something there or feel that these enigmatic objects are at
least worth re-photographing in greater detail. The photos taken by Viking
were of insufficient resolution to allow for any conclusions regarding their
origin. In recent years there has been a lot of work put forth by workers
such as Erol Torun who ascribe all kinds of mathematical relationships to
the structures seen in the Viking photos. But for me, at least, the most
compelling evidence are the photos themselves. The photos beckon an
immediate sense of recognition, a kind of gestalt. They seem to be saying
"Look here! These structures are artificial." So I guess in answer to your
question, the most interesting portion of Dick's book were in fact the Viking
images themselves.
STTS: Can you describe these structures and explain why they are believed
to be artificial?
MS. ORNE: Yes, I can. The structure that first catches one's eye, and in
fact was the first object to catch Dick Hoagland's eye, is the face itself.
Right there in the middle of the Cydonian plain a huge stone (one presumes it
is made of stone or other hard substance) face stares out into space. It's
symmetry is striking. The fact that the face is apparently human creates
a great number of questions regarding previous notions about our origins.
Several kilometers to the west of the face are structures that look to be
pyramids and the remains of other artificial structures. I think the
most compelling aspect of the Cydonia region is that all of the
interesting features are all within a few kilometers of each other. You
can look at hundreds of images of Mars and find no evidence of anything
remotely artificial looking but, when you look at the Cydonia Plain there
are artificial looking structures littered all over the landscape. One of
the structures (which has been coined "The Fort") looks like a pyramid
with a portion of the top collapsed and you can actually look down inside
it.
STTS: Scientists in the 70's noticed those pyramids and said that they were
simply sand dunes formed by the wind. Has there been a concentrated effort
by scientists to explain away all of these features through natural means?
MS. ORNE: Yes, NASA, for the first several years, stood firmly on the
opinion that the structures where entirely natural, regardless of mounting
evidence to the contrary. I think that I should point out here that although
the photos are compelling for many, very view individuals take these photos
as proof, but rather a case for a return imaging mission to clear up the
mystery. In any case, NASA has actually been caught in the act of
obstructing information regarding internal views of the Cydonia region when
a memo was found circulating in NASA which instructed employees to hinder
requests, change text in documents etc. with regard to the Cydonia question.
They have since retracted (publicly at least) these directives. Dr.
McDaniel of Sanoma State University has written an excellent treatment of the
history of NASA's views and their methodology regarding the Cydonian
question.
STTS: Is this obstructionist memo available to the public?
MS. ORNE: I knew that you were going to ask that and yes, I am sure that it
is but, off the top of my head I don't think that I can provide a means of
obtaining it. I'd have to go back through my own reading material and
locate some reference's to the Document. I am sure that Dick Hoagland's
organization "The Mars Mission" would be more than happy to provide
instructions in obtaining the aforementioned document<s>.
STTS: Your board has a summary of a book called The McDaniel Report in
the files section, a report that goes over inconsistencies in governmental
actions on this subject. Does that book discuss this memo?
MS. ORNE: I am pretty sure that it does. The book entitled simply
"The McDaniel Report" is published by North Atlantic Books and went into
general distribution 2 months ago (that would be early June 1994). There is
a very interest summary of the book available on this BBS. I think that
McDaniel presents many valid arguments.
STTS: Okay. I want to get to those arguments soon, but if you don't mind
if we venture back to Mars for a sec.<G> What was it about the book
(Hoagland's) that, so to speak, 'pushed you over the edge?" What data
finally convinced you that there may be something to all of this?
MS. ORNE: This may sound naieve (oh boy i can't spell) but, the Q³i²Y
****** END CHAT on Aug-12-94 at 22:10:50 ******
<It was a this point that my electricity went off. No hurricanes or
tornados or thunderstorms, but it was incredibly hot that night.>
****** BEGIN CHAT on Aug-12-94 at 23:23:28 with Shawn Aiken ******
MS. ORNE: It's really funny but although I really don't think that the FEDS
are watching I've had all kinds of strange things happen here since I
started the Mars Board.
STTS: What kind of strange things have happened?
MS. ORNE: Well, my phones beep a couple of times a day. I get line noise
on this machine and my other machine at the most inopportune moments.
Sometimes I even get beeps while I'm talking on the phone (not the calling
waiting kind either). I really, think it is coincidence but, other theories
have crossed my mind.<G> Anyway, your last question was back to the
Monuments book and what part was really most interesting.
STTS: Oh yes. Interesting to you. The stuff that 'pushed you over the
edge'.<G>
MS. ORNE: I don't want to sound naive but, the most compelling portions of
the book really were the images. Dick presents a lot of very interesting
ideas regarding geometric associations and such but, I'm always suspicious of
such relationships. He may well turn out to be correct but, the images
themselves still seem to speak the loudest. He also attempts to draw
parallels to Egypt and the pyramids there, with emphasis on the Sphinx.
STTS: Exactly what parallels?
MS. ORNE: Well, the one point that most impressed me was that Cairo actually
means MARS.
STTS: Is there any geometrical relationship between the two he could find?
MS. ORNE: Actually, as I recall there were. Off the top of my head I can't
remember exactly what they were. Again, I wasn't as impressed with the
mathematical relationships as many others have been. I guess, it's just to
easy to read such relationships into things where no such actual
relationships exist. I really would like to say however, that Dick and Erol
may very well be right, I'm just not, at the moment, very impressed with the
data.
STTS: Have you spoken to Richard Hoagland?
MS. ORNE: I spoke with Dick several months ago and I got the impression
that at that time he was expending his energy in uncovering Government
collusion regarding the failure of the Mars Observer. Dick feels, and I
also believe, that it's a bit suspicious that the MARS Observer failed.
Building these machines is something that the US is really good at. And
apparently NASA turned off the radios prior to an important maneuver which
is absolutely against all of the previously defined procedures. The radios
provide all kinds of information to ground controlers if something goes wrong
even in the event that the satellite blows up the radio data (if you leave
them on) provides detailed information about what went wrong. The whole
affair is rather mysterious.
STTS: Was this what sparked the McDaniel Report?
MS. ORNE: Actually, the McDaniel report was already in the works at the
time of the MARS Observer's failure. The McDaniel report was spurred by
NASA's adamant refusal to spend any effort in re-imaging the Cydonia site.
It was only Dick Hoagland's hard work talking to NASA and congress that
swayed NASA's stance on the matter.
STTS: So NASA had decided to re-image the site?
MS. ORNE: Yes, but with one major flaw. NASA signed a contract with a
group headed by Malin (the builder of the on board hi-res camera). Malin
had complete authority with regard to what images would be released, and
could keep images to himself for up to 6 months before releasing them.
There was a lot of fear going around that Malin would doctor the images
prior to release. This is the first time ever that a contractor was given
such latitude with NASA imaging.
STTS: Is NASA in the habit of contracting out image processing?
MS. ORNE: No, not until the contract with Malin and the MARS Observer
program. It really appeared, and still does, that this was an
attempt by NASA to move the information into private hands so that no one
could make any demands regarding the disposition of the imaging. If NASA
kept the imaging in house then we could always force their hand. NASA is,
after all, solely owned by the American people - Malin's group is not.
STTS: Has there been any other attempt to control the information coming
from space exploration?
MS. ORNE: Never before. Recently, and this is another story, the military
re-imaged the MOON with the satellite Clementine. They have been hoarding
that information but, the military is really a different story. Although, I
can't imagine what's classified about the Moon.
STTS: Which leads me into the area of the Moon and what has recently been
being talked about on your board. What is going on?
MS. ORNE: Well, several months ago Dick Hoagland released some old Apollo
and Surveyor (not sure of all of the various missions that were involved)
photos taken back in the 60's. As in turns out there are a lot of very
interesting pictures to be found including some depicting spires several
miles high and what appear to be great structures in the Mare Crisium
region and around Ukert crater. A Dr. Coronet has examined the photos and
feels that these may represent artifacts perhaps 500 million years old or
older. Some of these images were of excellent quality but were listed as
blurred in the NASA imaging catalogs. This brings the whole NASA
withholding data argument back up again. About the time that this was
going on the military sent a satellite to the Moon called Clementine. It
was equipped with very high resolution cameras and the mission was
essentially classified. Well, I guess the question that comes to my mind
is why would the military want to re-image the moon (with high-res
equipment) and why would they want that data classified. After all the
moon is probably one of the most imaged objects in the solar system
besides the Earth itself.
STTS: People have been looking at the moon for centuries with telescopes.
We've had countless images made of the moon by probes in the last two or
three decades. How could 'mile high' structures have been missed?
MS. ORNE: Well, actually at least some of these structures have been
reported on and off for quite awhile. They all fall under the category of
LTP's (Lunar Transient Phenomena). There have been large numbers of
reports of such things from ground based telescopes for quite some time.
Here again with regard to the satellite based NASA imaging. How come all
the interesting photos were cataloged as blurred but, when ordered you find
that in fact the images are quite clear. Some are again questioning whether
NASA had noticed the anomalies a long time ago but, were attempting to make
the images appear disinteresting by placing misinformation in the catalogs.
In fact many of the images, if you order them from NASA, will come with a
note indicating that due to a NEW process the photo's may be blurred.
STTS: If any of this is true, it would be apparent that something existed
that should AT LEAST be looked into. Why is there no interest in this from
'respected' circles?
MS. ORNE: The McDaniel report actually addresses that issue. The simple
fact is that if, as a scientist, you suggest the idea that there may be
artificial structures on the Moon or on Mars you're immediately labeled a
nut. This is done without any review of data. It's a knee-jerk reaction and
one that has only been around for the last 50 years or so.
Before that it was considered OK to speculate about such things without
worrying about such behavior from your associates. It's clearly not science
but something that has become a part of the scientific culture - almost a
kind of belief system that ignores certain things without regard for data.
Some ideas are just not received well these days.
STTS: Are the people involved with this (Hoagland, Cornet, Torun, and
McDaniel) merely amateurs, or do they have scientific training?
MS. ORNE: Hoagland has an impression background as a science journalist and
has worked as an advisor for the major networks during the Apollo era.
Cornet is a PH.D. (I believe in geology although I could be wrong). Erol
Torun works for the US Mapping agency and has a lot of experience with
working with aerial photographs and McDaniel is also a PH.D. There are
also many others both inside and outside of NASA who support Dick Hoagland's
Mars Mission.
STTS: What is the purpose of THE MARS INFORMATION EXCHANGE?
MS. ORNE: The mission of The Mars Information Exchange, and now it's sister
board on IOS (International On-line Service) is to provide a place to both
collect and disseminate information regarding apparent artifacts on other
planetary bodies and where applicable there relationship to the Earth. I
really feel strongly that a central source is needed rather than the
previously haphazard way the data was stored in bits and pieces on other
boards throughout America. The implications of the data, if it turns out to
be true, could change our most fundamental concepts about our origins and who
we are. The board in it's small why is my contribution to the further
pursuit of this information.
STTS: Does your board go beyond this scope?
MS. ORNE: Actually, I hadn't intended it to - but yes, it has. There seems
to be, albeit a tenuous, connection between the UFO phenomena and
interest in artifacts on neighboring planetary bodies. I had so many
requests for information regarding ufos that I started carrying a section
devoted to that as well. Along the lines of diversity, I also have plans to
add CD-ROMs to the system which will contain all of the original Viking
imaging. There really is a need to go back over all those hundreds of images
to see if there are other anomalous areas on Mars. I would also like to
obtain some CDs of lunar imaging but, I'm not sure if such an animal is
currently available. Dick Hoagland has indicated (in a conversation we
had last week) that he may begin placing information updates on Frontier
II, the TMIE sister board on IOS along with the ability to order photos,
videos and audio tapes.. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
STTS: What are IOS and Frontier II?
MS. ORNE: Frontier II is the next logical step for the Mars Information
Exchange. To date, everyone (who didn't live in Dallas) had to call long
distance to get on the board. Now, by calling the International On-line
Service, or IOS, people can reach the board with a local call. There is fee
for using IOS, but it's less than the long distance charges. This will be
mean a wider availability of information to a lot more people.
STTS: Is Frontier II a separate BBS located on IOS that is managed
by you?
MS. ORNE: Yes, exactly. Frontier II is located within the IOS system which
is located in Downtown Dallas. I manage all of the resources etc. remotely.
I changed the name from The
Mars Information Exchange to Frontier II to
better reflect the expanded information (i.e., the Moon etc...)...
STTS: What sorts of files do you keep on the systems?
MS. ORNE: I'm going to make every attempt to keep the same files on both
systems. At the moment there are sections pertaining to Mars, The Moon and
ufos with various sub grouping inside each of the categories. There isn't a
lot of information simply because there isn't much information to be found,
but what is there is the most comprehensive collection of files on Mars or
the Moon that I'm aware of on any single system.
STTS: What types of files do you have in these sections?
MS. ORNE: There are assorted image files of almost all of the anomalous
features currently under discussion. These image files are mostly GIF files
but, there are also some JPG's and PCX files. There are also some viewers
available for those who don't already have the software for looking at the
images. In addition to image files there are many text files which
contain information, conversations and theories regarding all of the
anomalies. Some programs can also be found, for example there is an
excellent program for learning more about the Moon. There are also
demonstration programs of my own software that I write for attorneys who
practice bankruptcy. This is what I do to pay the rent. The Mars
Information is strictly a public service that I feel strongly about.
STTS: What sorts of message bases do you have?
MS. ORNE: There are a variety of specialized message areas. Of course the
full range of pertinent FIDO areas are available, these include messages
areas about UFOS, Fringe science and the like. There are also numerous
local message areas (these messages stay on this board only) regarding the
Cydonia site, the moon, ufos the Paranormal, geology, Martian history.
Some of these areas are more active than others. The board also
supports QWK format off-line readers for those who want to just jump on and
download mail and later quickly upload replies.
STTS: What message areas are the most active?
MS. ORNE: At the moment "What's happening on the Moon" is the most active.
This is because the Moon is a current interest of the Mars Mission. When the
Mars Observer died, interest in Mars waned because there appeared to be no
hope in resolving the issue in the foreseeable future. The moon is a
different story. If the military releases the Clementine photos then we can
know, right now, whether there is anything of interest on the Moon or not.
The moon section is by far the most active at the moment followed closely by
ufos (always an interesting subject no matter what else is happening.)
STTS: Is there any scheduled date that these images will be released?
MS. ORNE: Sadly, none that I am aware of. The current fear is that by the
time we get them the interesting ones will have been air brushed. I think
that the only hope of getting information that everyone can feel comfortable
with is to mount a private lunar satellite mission to the Moon. This is, in
fact, one of the things that the Mars Mission is trying to put together. The
estimated cost is 30 million and will have to come solely from donations.
STTS: What do you think the most interesting Lunar object or site is?
MS. ORNE: Mare Crisium is by far the most interesting area and contains
apparent towers and bridges. This would be the area that I would want to
see high resolution photos of. There are other areas such as the vicinity
of Ukert crater, but Mare Crisium remains the most talked about. Hoagland
had indicated that he believes that Mare Crisium contains the remnants of
a huge domed structure.
STTS: What other file areas are available?
Ms. Orne: The Mars file section contains lots of images of the Cydonia area
and other anomalous areas on Mars. If all goes well I'll be adding a CD-ROM
in the next month or two and will make available the entire planet Mars
from NASA Viking images which I can get on CD. This would allow users, or
perhaps a group of users, to reexamine other areas of Mars for additional
anomalies. An amateur survey, if you will.
STTS: How much data will be available with this?
MS. ORNE: Somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 gigs of Viking imaging. At
first I'll have to place 1 CD in the CD drive each day and provide a
schedule of which days which CDs will be available. Eventually, I'd like
to have all the CDs available all the time.
STTS: And how many CDs does this collection contain?
MS. ORNE: Between 6 and 10. NASA is not finished making them so I don't,
at the moment, know the final number. I'm sure that NASA will also be
making other satellite mission imaging available that could be added as well.
As far as I know, there isn't any organized data on CD regarding the Moon
yet, and I don't know if NASA has any plans in that regard.
STTS: What other missions would you like to have available?
MS. ORNE: I'm just guessing but, I would expect that it's NASA's intent to
place other missions on CD as well such as Voyager 1 and 2, Magellan and
Galileo when it's available (it hasn't reached it's target -Jupiter- Yet)
but, will be dropping a probe into the Jovian atmosphere.
STTS: What else do you know of that will be available on your board?
MS. ORNE: At the moment Mars is the emphasis. Someone else can do
Venus <G>.. I do have, in the back of my mind however, to start a new
section dealing with ancient anomalies here on Earth that may tie into the
Mars/Moon imaging and information. I really don't have any files in that
area at the moment though.
STTS: Aside from message bases and files, what else does your board have
to offer?
MS. ORNE: At the moment that's it, just messages and files. I do hope to
add some type of door programs at some point the nature of which I'm not
sure of at the moment (Not games though).
STTS: What types of doors?
MS. ORNE: Well, a database access door has come to mind although this would
probably be something in conjunction with Viking CDs for locating sites of
interesting categorized images.
STTS: Like a search program?
MS. ORNE: Yes something like that with perhaps some ANSII graphics to
provide descriptions for processes etc. Sort of an encyclopedia of Mars.
I have been considering RIP graphics as well (this would be optional) but
would allow for much more comprehensive imaging on-line.
STTS: So what other plans do you have?
MS. ORNE: Beyond my presidential aspirations that's about it <G>.....
STTS: Okay.<G> Thank you very much for your time.
Suggested Reading Material -
The Monuments of Mars, by Richard Hoagland, North Atlantic Books, 1987.
The McDaniel Report, by Dr. McDaniel, North Atlantic Books, 1993.
Electronic Services -
The Mars Information Exchange - (214) 904-0338
Frontier II on the International On-line Service - (214) 630-0242 (to locate
the local access #).
Organizations -
The Mars Mission
122 Dodd Street
Weehawken, NJ 07087
Survey Results
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Beginning last month, everyone who answered the survey had their
name thrown into a hat for a random drawing. Each month we'll give away
a prize of some great (or not-so-great) worth by drawing a name out of
the hat. Everyone who fills out and sends in a survey is eligible!
Sept. 1st was the first such drawing, and Dave Crumb of Chicago,
Illinois was selected to win Cinemark's claymation VGA/Soundblaster game
FREE DC! Congratulations, Dave!
The Oct. 1st prize will be three FREE month's of access of Cambridge,
Mass.'s mega BBS Channel 1. Check out the MONTHLY PRIZE GIVEAWAY
articles from the main menu for more details.
# # #
The results are in from the survey in the Aug. issue of STTS, and
tabulated below for a median score.
So far, the response rate has been tremendous. We've received responses
from all over the USA and several other countries including Canada,
South America, and France!
For those of you who've yet to respond, please do so now. Your response
will be greatly appreciated, and help shape the look, feel, and content
of the magazine in the months to come.
I'd like to thank everyone who responded. Each and every one of your
comments were read and taken into consideration.
In the survey, I asked the readers to rate the sections of the magazine
on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best and one being the worst. Here's
the averages, taken by adding all the scores for an indiviual section
(eg: fiction) and dividing it by the number of survey's received that
scored that section with something other than an "X" for no comment.
Magazine sections are ranked in order of scores, from highest to lowest:
SCORES
ÄÄÄÄÄÄ
Fiction: 9.6
Poetry: 9.2
Book Reviews: 8.0
Editorial: 8.6
Feature Articles: 8.6
Humour: 8.7
Movie Reviews: 8.6
Software Reviews: 8.9
ANSI Coverart: 7.3
CD Reviews: 7.1
Question & Answers: 7.1
Summary: Fiction and poetry seemed to prove the most popular, as I was
sure it would. Nothing really received *bad* scores, though,
which is promising. Of the reviews, the software reviews seem
to be ahead, the book and movie reviews seemed to be neck and
neck, and the CD reviews place a somewhat distant fourth.
What the above scores really *don't* tell is that the surveys
seemed to be divided into camps. There were several people that
read STTS mainly for fiction and poetry, and almost as many
people who read it exclusively for the reviews. Both groups
scored their interest group high while X'ing a "No Comment"
on the other sections.
Again, many thanks to those of you who took the time to fill out and
send in your surveys. If you haven't yet filled out the survey, you
still have time to do so.
Thanks for reading and, if you haven't already, please fill out the
survey! <G>
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Þ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄ¿ Üß ßÜ ÛÜÜÜÜ ÛÜÜÜÜ Û ÛÜÜÜÜ v.FC 28800 (414) 789-4500 Ý
Þ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ Ý
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Þ þ Exec-PC BBS is the largest LAN and microcomputer based BBS in the world! Ý
Þ þ 280+ dedicated phone lines - NO busy signals - 24-Hour access Ý
Þ þ Over 650,000 files and programs - DOS, Windows, OS/2, Mac, Unix, Amiga Ý
Þ þ Lightning fast - Search 20,000 files in 2 seconds with Hyperscan feature Ý
Þ þ Over 42 CD-ROM's online - Scan all of them at 1 time for keywords Ý
Þ þ Special Apogee games, Moraffware games, and Adult file areas Ý
Þ þ Extensive message system with QWK compatability - Also, Fidonet areas! Ý
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Computer Software Reviews
Copyright (c) 1994, Louis Turbeville
All rights reserved
Blue Wave Off-line Mail Reader
Requires: DOS 3.3 or above, Shareware program
Cutting Edge Computing
Registration Fee: $25.00
Bulletin Board Systems have many exciting features. You may check the latest
Shareware/freeware files, play a diversionary on-line game or explore the
robust world of electronic mail. Ideally you would like to do all of the above.
However, without an easy-to-use off-line mail reader you could not possibly
enjoy many of the opportunities and help that the world of e-mail has to offer.
With the growing popularity of message conferences, some with hundreds of
message posts a day, you could not read many of your favorite conferences and
still have time to look at other features of a BBS.
To alleviate this problem many boards are using off-line mail utilities that
allow a user to read messages off-line and enjoy other aspects of the board
while freeing up telephone lines quicker. One of the top mail reader programs
is Blue Wave. Blue Wave can be used with any BBS mail utility that uses
either the QWK or Blue Wave mail packet format.
Blue Wave is very easy for the beginner to use, but has a lot of power
functions for the experienced user and someone who wants to get the most out of
a program as possible. A few or its many functions include:
- An address book - to keep the name of people you write to most often
- DOS Shell
- The ability to run batch files
- The ability to post the same message in many conference with one keystroke
- Delete messages from your mail packet
- Reply to messages with one quick keystroke
- It automatically quotes the original message when you enter a reply
- Delete, Edit or View replies that you have already saved
- Read the BBS opening screens and bulletins (if your BBS has the capability)
- View and request new files from your BBS (if your BBS has the capability)
- Scan for personnal mail
- Sort the display order for messages in your mail packet.
With all of these capabilities, Blue Wave is still one of the easiest mail
reader programs to learn and use. If you do a lot of electronic mail and
messages through your local BBS then you owe it to yourself to check this
program out.
Computer Software Reviews
Copyright (c) 1994, Louis Turbeville
All rights reserved
TIME Man Of The Year - CD-ROM
Compact Publishing, Inc.
PO. Box 40310
Washington, D.C. 20016
(800)964-1518
List Price: $39.95
If you need to find information on some of the most influential people during
the last seven decades, this is a must see program. The Time Man Of The Year
CD-ROM has bibliographical information on the TIME Magazine Man Of The Year
winners dating back to 1927. There are photographs and video clips of each
person.
Besides having the Man Of The Year winners, this program also has information
on some of the most prominently featured people ever covered by the pages of
TIME Magazine, under the section titled Portraits. The individuals covered in
the Portrait section are very influential and have had far reaching impacts on
the world, but never received the distinction of TIME Man Of The Year. The
program also has the text of every issue for the past year. The disk I
reviewed was for 1992 and prominently features President Clinton, who was the
1992 TIME Man Of The Year recipient.
The program itself is easy to use. You can view photos, video clips and text
easily. There is a search feature that allow you to browse all of the text
related to a particular subject. Once you find the information you want to
use, getting that information into your document is only a cut and paste away.
This program requires a CD-ROM player, Windows and 1MB of hard disk space.
Most of the information is kept on the CD, where is should be. However, when
viewing video clips you may have to be patient while the program copies the
video files to the HD for quicker playing. Other than patience, there are no
technological difficulties to contend with. Everything seems to run very
nicely right from the start.
If you like history, you'll enjoy this program. It is a very useful tool for
the student writing many historical papers or doing research. There is a ton
of information on some of the most influential personalities in recent history
and a whole years worth of text from one of the best information sources, TIME
magazine.
Lights Out
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
All rights reserved
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
³ IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU: Andrew Bergman, director. ³
³ Jane Angerson, screenplay. Starring Nicolas Cage, ³
³ Bridget Fonda, Rosie Perez, Wendell Pierce, Isaac ³
³ Hayes, Seymour Cassel, Stanley Tucci, Richard Jenkins ³
³ and Red Buttons. TriStar. Rated PG. ³
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU is a deliriously giddy movie, a work
that's determined to make you feel better despite yourself. Such
an aggressively feel-good movie hasn't appeared on screen since,
well, since last year's SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE. Though neither
romantic comedy share cast, crew, or creative personnel, they
still resonate on the same giddy level, layering the proceedings
in a fantasy-like quality. The situations (a perfect love
changing your life forever; top prize in a lottery changing your
live forever) are storybook simple writ large -- the choice of
music, the "staging," even the staggering coincidences that turn
up in both films underscore the similarity in style. The
directors do have their distinctive touches, though: Nora Ephron
(SLEEPLESS) keeps a light, breezy touch on her material.
SLEEPLESS is airy and expansive, as open as Tom Hanks' heart and
Meg Ryan's smile. Andrew Bergman (IT COULD HAPPEN) exhibits a
tarter edge to his humor, nervous and twitchy (Rosie Perez), and
by turns glum and morose (Nicolas Cage, Bridget Fonda). But the
romantic icing with which Bergman frosts his story makes this
film brighter and more colorful than its nigh-claustrophobic
Queens settings would normally allow. I'd refer to IT COULD
HAPPEN TO YOU as the SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE of 1994, but it's a
little more intelligent and won't earn as much box office as
Ephron's frothy mix. Plus some other critic already beat me to
it.
The film is a wonderful romantic comedy originally titled
COP GIVES WAITRESS $2 MILLION TIP, which says it all. Cage plays
the big-hearted cop with an old-fashioned "goodness" that never
lapses into unbelievably wide-eyed innocence or smarmy sentiment.
He does what he does (honors his promises; saves a merchant from
a holdup) because it's what he does. He needs to be good,
because it's an essential part of his nature, like breathing.
Approval, awards, or applause never enter his mind, though they
do visit him throughout the story. That's why he's a cop.
Cage's character is a refreshing change from the current crop of
"What's in it for me?" protagonists -- and actors, for that
matter. It's a role that would fit Tom Hanks or Richard Dreyfuss
just as well as it fits Cage.
Fonda's waitress, while just as cheery as Cage in the latter
half of the film, starts out a bit cranky and cantankerous. Who
can blame her -- she's just declared bankruptcy, having been
stuck with a $12,000 credit card bill by her estranged husband.
Her protestations that she can't afford a divorce don't wash in
this day of $40 quicky specials. Despite her troubles, though,
she still manages to force a smile for smart-alecky customers
(Cage and his cop partner) and avoids blowing up at her Scrooge-
like boss.
Cage and Fonda are almost too good to be true, so of course
they're going to fall in love.
When the "lottery cop and waitress" begin sharing their good
fortune with others -- buying subway tokesn for strangers,
renting a baseball stadium for the neighborhood kids -- the film
almost teeters into pur sappiness. Disasters visited upon the
pair (in the form of Rosie Perez as a shrewish wife and Stanley
Tucci as Fonda's unemployed actor husband) almost seem forced,
contrived to counterbalance the sweetness. The third act
reality-warping coincidence that throws Cage and Fonda together
at the Plaza nearly topples the realism created by screenwriter
Jane Anderson and director Bergman. Cage and Fonda are solid
enough, however, to carry us through such concerns and even bring
us to cheer for them.
A seemingly-metaphysical Isaac Hayes ("Angel") serves as
narrator, but he's thankfully brought to ground by the time we
reach the Plaza. He serves as an understated observer to what is
loosely based on a true story. "The story you're about to see is
more or less true," he tells us in the beginning, and you find
yourself wishing that more films carried the same disclaimer. IT
COULD HAPPEN TO YOU doesn't need it, though, because it's strong
enough, and entertaining enough, to stand on its own merits.
RATING: $$$
Lights Out
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
All rights reserved
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
³ CORINNA, CORINNA: Written & directed by Jessie Nelson. ³
³ Starring Whoopi Goldberg, Ray Liotta, Tina Majorino, ³
³ Wendy Crewson, Larry Miller, Erica Yohn, Jenifer Lewis, ³
³ Joan Cusack, and Don Ameche. New Line Cinema. Rated PG. ³
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
Whoopi's had an interesting career, alternating broad comedy
(BURGLAR, GHOST, SISTER ACT) with heart-touching drama (THE COLOR
PURPLE, THE LONG WALK HOME, CLARA'S HEART), equally at home
wringing laughter or tears from her audience. On the heels of
1993's disappointing MADE IN AMERICA, we now have CORINNA,
CORINNA, a touching look at a young girl, her nanny, and her
father. Set in the 1950s, CORINNA, CORINNA is a film more of its
characters than of the time it wants to portray.
Ray Liotta is a jingle writer with an ad agency that's
working on big name accounts like Mr. Potato Head and Jello.
His wife dies unexpectedly, and due to his commitments at work,
he needs to hire a nanny, and he needs to do it right away. The
parade of nannies is starting to become old hat for this kind of
picture (neatly spoofed by the multi-voiced Robin Williams in
MRS. DOUBTFIRE), and the present film really adds nothing to the
clich. There's the bible-thumper, the neurotic, the storm-
trooper, and the demander, all laid out in a row like a blueprint
for a Mary Poppins remake. Whoopi's interview scene is rather
standard as well, nervous during the interview (trying to take
charge, then backpedaling mightily), capped off by her kind act
towards Tina Majorino, Liotta's daughter, that the father happens
to catch through a parted curtain. This kind of scene always
strikes me as false; just because a person is kind to a child
doesn't mean he or she will make a good babysitter/nanny/
caretaker. But of course Whoopi does, and manages to draw
Majorino out of her shell.
Majorino temporarily refuses to speak after her mother's
death, falling into a self-imposed autism that you'd expect the
father to have her examined by a specialist -- he makes enough
money to pay for treatment. But all it takes, and here's another
one of the movie's fallacies, is Whoopi's love and irreverent
attitude to overcome the child's deep psychological scars. It
only happens in the movies, folks, and in this instance serves as
the first step to the inevitable: Goldberg and Liotta falling in
love. I don't mean to sound cynical here -- the scenes are
tentative and very touching, and there's one shot of Majorino
lying on a hillside, her mother's dress beside her and her hand
hidden protectively in one of the dress' pockets, that will
absolutely pull your heart out of your body. It may be a
manipulative scene with little grounding in reality, but the
image *works*, and works exceedingly well. Would that
writer/director Jessie Nelson had crafted the rest of the picture
as lovingly as that shot.
After Majorino begins speaking, the focus shifts to the
incipient love story, which grows very naturally from the
circumstances. Both Liotta and Goldberg share an intimate
knowledge of music, he due to his chosen profession, she because
she loves music and longs to write album liner notes (remember
liner notes?) and a column in "High Hat" magazine. Music becomes
the universal language of love, to steal a quote from another
source, and as the soundtrack becomes more lush and more lusty
(bluesy numbers from Louis Armstrong and Billy Holliday add
nicely to the proceedings), the relationship deepens, and
relatives on both sides (Liotta's parents, Goldberg's sister)
begin to notice, all the time fixing them up with boring,
desperate dates. Wendy Crewson does a nice turn as Liotta's
potential girlfriend, thrown at him by his mother. She's lonely,
but Nelson gives the character a comedic spin, so she doesn't
seem too pathetic.
At first, I didn't think a relationship between Liotta and
Goldberg would work on screen, but Nelson builds to it so
gradually and interestingly (some nice scenes depicted from
Majorino's point of view) that it works. Unfortunately, when
Nelson deals with the attendant bigotry of the time, from both
sides of the relationship, the movie falls flat and becomes
forced. We expect the prejudice to crop up earlier and more
strongly, and when it finally rears its ugly head, it's no more
threatening than a Klansman in a paisley sheet.
RATING: $$
Lights Out
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
All rights reserved
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
³ THE LITTLE RASCALS: Penelope Spheeris, director. Paul ³
³ Guay & Stephen Mazur & Penelope Spheeris, screenplay. ³
³ Starring Bug Hall, Brittany Ashton Holmes, Travis Ted- ³
³ ford, Kevin Jamal Woods, Jordan Warkol, Zachary Mabry, ³
³ Ross Elliot Bagley, Courtland Mead, and Sam Saletta. ³
³ With cameos by Mel Brooks, Darryl Hannah, Reba McEntire, ³
³ the Olsen twins, Lea Thompson, Donald Trump, George ³
³ Wendt, Raven-Simone and Whoopi Goldberg as Buckwheat's ³
³ Mom. Universal. Rated PG. ³
ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
Lo, I have been to the wasteland, my friends, and I have
seen the devil's work. Harken to me now as I tell you a tale an'
will chill your blains and set your knees to knockin'.
There were matinees abroad in the land in those days, a
temptation to adult and child, an idol to the heathen god of
entertainment. And Hollywood created the serial and the short
subject, and the audience looked upon them, and they were good.
At the very least, they were entertaining. At the very, very
least, they killed time before the feature attraction. And the
short subject begat cartoons, and cartoons begat cliffhangers,
and cliffhangers begat action serials, and action serials begat
children's serials, and children's serials begat "Our Gang," and
"Our Gang" begat Alfalfa, Spanky, Darla, Stymie, Porky, and
Buckwheat. And the children looked upon them, and they were
otay!
And movies begat radio (kinda sorta), and radio begat
television (sorta kinda), and television became the devourer of
material and the babysitter of children. "Our Gang" became "The
Little Rascals," and lo, the message was brought unto a new
generation, and the message was otay!
And successful television series begat motion picture
remakes. STAR TREK begat STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE. And
STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE begat THE ADDAMS FAMILY. And THE
ADDAMS FAMILY begat THE FUGITIVE and THE FUGITIVE begat THE
BEVERLY HILLBILLIES and THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES begat THE FLINT-
STONES and THE FLINTSTONES begat THE LITTLE RASCALS. And the
cycle was complete, and the audience looked upon it, and it was
not otay. In fact, it stunk to high heaven.
THE LITTLE RASCALS has to be the worst-directed movie I've
seen this year, and in a summer that includes NORTH and COLOR OF
NIGHT, that's saying something. I've long suspected that
director Penelope Spheeris wasn't an actor's director, and this
picture proves it. Mugging kids, misdirected gazes, an
inconsistent mix of over-reacting and non-reaction . . . the
children are constantly distracted, unable to focus on who
they're talking to or what they're supposed to be working on.
Spheeris works better with experienced actors (i.e., Mike Myers
and Dana Carvey in WAYNE'S WORLD, 1992), but even then she can't
rein in the mugging and broad acting styles. Something seems to
happen to Spheeris once she sits in the director's chair; she
loses all sense of control and proportion. In the current
project, she indulges her entire "kids is cute" repertoire,
employing extreme close ups until Darla's darling pudgy face
fills the screen or Alfalfa's endearing cowlick hits the top of
the frame. Had any of these kids the comic timing or double-take
ability of the original cast, they'd manage to redeem the use of
Spheeris' lingering and intrusive camera. The camera isn't an
observer of the Rascals' adventures -- it's an unwilling and
unwitting partner in their nefarious activities.
Labeling THE LITTLE RASCALS sexist or racist is silly --
little boys and little girls frequently don't like each other,
and this time both Stymie and Buckwheat are more positive role
models than the originals. No, THE LITTLE RASCALS' primary
problem isn't PC-related. It's the other aspects of the movie
serials that Spheeris slavishly sticks to that sinks the story-
line and the picture's entertainment value. She repeatedly uses
rapid motion to convey comedy, whether it's Keystone Kops-like
chases or group scenes like building a new race car. This visual
gag is old hat and doesn't pull laughs from today's audiences (at
least not from the audience in the screening I attended). The
He-Man Womun Haters Club, Alfalfa's romance with Darla (actually
one of the sweeter aspects of this movie), Alfalfa's singing and
his incident with soap bubbles are all things we've seen before,
and don't bear repeating. And the costuming, gadzooks! THE
LITTLE RASCALS is set in today's Los Angeles, but the kids dress
as though they stepped right out of the '40s. They own no modern
toys (aside from the race car, and even it seems dated), they
don't reference today's pop culture (comics, movies, TV), and
they don't interact with modern technology in any way. It's as
though the children live in their own world, a time warp bubble
set in the California hills. What at first seems cute becomes
weirder and more divorced from reality as the movie progresses.
Spheeris also displays a shocking lack of continuity. She
had her hands full concentrating on the childrens' performances,
as the end-of-movie outtakes show (and even then she botched her
job), but surely she had a responsible continuity person who made
sure that scenes matched from take to take. These gaffes are
incredibly easy to spot and don't take a special eye at all. It
becomes something of a game with some movies to see how many
mistakes you can spot. With THE LITTLE RASCALS, you'll find so
many bloopers (moving scenery before kids arrive to move it,
reappearing items after the prop has been removed from a scene,
the race car being rebuilt in a cockeyed order, and a spilled
pickle jar that apparently had no effect on Porky and Buckwheat)
that it's no fun looking for them after the first twenty minutes.
THE LITTLE RASCALS is a poor excuse for a movie, and should
have been shelved or released straight to video to save the
embarrassment of the big screen. How Spheeris managed to snag so
many recognizable stars for cameos escapes me, especially
considering her movie track record, her most recent stinker being
THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES (1993).
RATING: 0
Lights Out
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
All rights reserved
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³ AIRHEADS: Richard Lehmann, director. Rich Wilkes, ³
³ screenplay. Starring Brendan Fraser, Steve Buscemi, ³
³ Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Michael McKean, Judd Nel- ³
³ son, Michael Richards, Nina Siemaszko, Ernie Hudson, ³
³ Amy Locane, and Joe Mantegna. Twentieth Century Fox. ³
³ Rated PG-13. ³
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They're crazy, they're wacky, they're rock-n-rollers with
Uzis. Sure, the Uzis are really water guns filled with pepper
spray, but the members of an unknown band, The Lone Rangers (how
can there be more than one if you're "lone"?), do pull a wild-n-
crazy stunt with them. They hold up a radio station just to get
their demo played on the air. Every record company in town and
several nightclubs have slammed the doors on this band, so
hijacking the airwaves seems to make sense. Only to the band, of
course.
Imagine Bill & Ted partnered with Pauly Shore. Imagine the
band from PCU (released earlier this year) actually getting air-
play. Imagine Weird Al Yankovic's music video parody of Nirvana
being expanded to two hours. Slice all of that sideways and
serve it up as baloney, because that's what AIRHEADS, directed by
Michael Lehmann, is made of: a silly, non-vital view of today's
music scene. Brendan Fraser, Steve Buscemi and Adam Sandler star
as the Gen X grunge-punk-post-wave rockers, and though the movie
features fine work from such solid supporting cast members as Joe
Mantegna, Ernie Hudson, Michael McKean, and Amy Locane, among
others, the script wimps out by failing to really name names or
expose specific industry practices. To be a vital commentary on
the contemporary scene, AIRHEADS' basic message should be more
than, "It's really hard to break into the business." Well, duh.
Let me write that down.
AIRHEADS for the most part is fun, watching three brain-dead
dudes turn a simple bluff into a full-blown hostage situation
with an army of cops, hordes of groupies, a SWAT team and real
guns. The situation goes from bad to worse, and it's obvious,
painfully obvious, that these idiots hadn't thought things
through. Heck, to expect them to think in the first place is
asking too much. Director Michael Lehmann (HEATHERS, 1988) and
screenwriter Rich Wilkes actually are asking us to identify with
them, mistakenly portraying them as poor, downtrodden minimum-
wage bums who just want a break. Well, I'm sorry, but equating
three goofs to heroes and giving them a happy ending kinda takes
the edge off this movie. It's part of the whole "getting what
you deserve" philosophy that Lehmann danced with in HEATHERS but
only flirts with here. He wants to have it both ways, to
criticize the industry and yet resolve AIRHEADS' dramatic dilemma
with a Cinderella success story. Face facts: these guys aren't
smart enough to handle the fame they want, which is shown every-
time they open their mouths, by their actions at the radio
station, and by their reactions when a real gun falls into their
hands. One moment Chazz (Fraser) is standing by his ideals --
winning a record contract by the merit of their talents, not
through the freak show cult of celebrity that's sprung up about
them -- and the next moment he compromises just so his music can
be heard. The end becomes important, to hell with the moral
implications of the means.
Most of this film is lip service to rock and roll ideals, to
personal integrity, and to defying authority. In the end,
AIRHEADS plays it just as safe as any Michael Bolton record. I'm
very disappointed that the first important movie to address '90s
music doesn't have the *huevos* to follow up on its promise. The
music, and the supporting performances (especially the standout
Mantegna as an aging rock-n-roll DJ, the only real bite to the
movie) aren't enough of a backbone to prop the rest of the film
on.
RATING: $$
Music Review
Copyright (c) 1994, Andee SoRelle
All rights reserved
FUMBLING TOWARDS ECSTASY
Sarah McLachlan
Arista Records
I hear the CD dropped and sense the laser hitting its surface. In
seconds, I hear the strains of dark, compelling music. This first of a
dozen songs is the single "Possession." It begins this journey with Ms.
McLachlan through her world of relationships. She sings "I won't be
denied" and I believe her as I sing along and know that this melody will
haunt my dreams.
The songs of this CD are all about relationships. Dark, deadly,
dysfunctional, confusing, desirous, miserable, foolish, losing, silly,
whimsical, and fearful tales of love that are relinquished, reviled and
revisited again and again. Sarah's soaring vocals push and pull us
through the dark forest of her melodies and her stories of love.
The song "Wait" plays and I feel ready for fall, wrapped in a warm
blanket watching leaves skitter by out the window. McLachlan's words
bring a chill and a desire to search for warmth. She respects love til
her "dying day" and you believe her.
In "Elsewhere," she sings "this is heaven to no one else but me," and
you want to know why she is so willing to wait, linger and cling to
something or someone who will only take what he can get. In some songs,
the relationship is let go, but missed. In others, the lover has "so
much to lose."
In the title track, Sarah sings "I won't fear love." Perhaps that is the
driving force behind this CD; that McLachlan doesn't fear love but wants
to examine, inspect and divine the power behind it. Even in silly songs
like "Ice Cream," I heard a singer/songwriter exploring another aspect
of this thing called love.
For all fans of well-crafted, thoughtful, beautiful music I recommend
this CD. I know I can listen to it repeatedly. However, if you prefer
loud, jarring tunes with obnoxious lyrics this isn't the album for you.
Ms. McLachlan has delivered intelligent music as she fumbled towards
ecstasy.
My score, on a scale of one to ten: 9
Music Review
Copyright (c) 1994, Thomas Van Hook
All rights reserved
Blackest Sabbath -- Black Sabbath 1970-1987 by Black Sabbath
Phonogram Records CD 838818-2
Copyright 1989 Koln, Germany
Track Listing
1. Black Sabbath -- From the album "Black Sabbath" (1970)
2. Paranoid -- From the album "Paranoid" (1970)
3. Iron Man -- From the album "Paranoid" (1970)
4. Snowblind -- From the album "Black Sabbath Volume 4" (1972)
5. Sabbath Bloody Sabbath -- From the album "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath" (1973)
6. Hole In The Sky -- From the album "Sabotage" (1975)
7. Rock & Roll Doctor -- From the album "Technical Ecstacy" (1976)
8. Never Say Die -- From the album "Never Say Die" (1977)
9. Lady Evil -- From the album "Heaven And Hell" (1980)
10. Turn Up The Night -- From the album "Mob Rules" (1981)
11. The Sign of the Southern Cross/Heaven And Hell [Live] -- From the album
"Live Evil" (1983)
12. Children of the Sea [Live] -- From the album "Live Evil" (1983)
13. Digital Bitch -- From the album "Born Again" (1983)
14. Seventh Star -- From the album "Black Sabbath Featuring Tony Iommi"
(1986)
15. Born To Lose -- From the album "The Eternal Idol" (1987)
In today's culture, things change at light-speed with a certain regularity.
After all, what may have been "in" this morning, might not be "in" by the end
of lunch. And so it goes with rock and roll. Bands come and go with the
changing popular attitudes. Very few hang on to the very end of the last
member's career. Black Sabbath, however, is one of those bands. With a
career that now spans over three decades, they have proven themselves to be
the most influential of all the "doom and gloom" bands. With only two former
members selling their own solo projects (Ozzy Osbourne and Ronnie James Dio),
Black Sabbath has never been a launching-pad for the careers of others.
Instead, guitarist Tony Iommi has carved a niche for the band in the annals of
Heavy Metal.
This particular Compact Disc might be a little hard to find in the United
States, as it is a "Greatest Hits" compilation made and sold in Germany. I
was lucky enough to get a copy of it while I was stationed overseas at Sembach
Air Base. Included with the tracks is a sleeve that chronicles the band's
history and the various lineups that the band has had. I highly recommend
this album for anyone who is a Black Sabbath fan and would love to have the
complete history of Black Sabbath (at least the history up until early 1989.
The material is culled from every point in the band's career with the
exception of one album -- "Master Of Reality," released in 1971. It would
have been nice if a track from that album had been added. Regardless, this
album has all of Sabbath's best hits and makes for a very good introduction
for the new fan that hasn't heard all of Sabbath's material. With such
Sabbath standards as Iron Man, and Paranoid, the album covers the usual ground
one would expect. Unexpected pieces of material for this compilation are the
two "live" tracks from the album "Live Evil," which was a tremendous flop for
the band in sales.
Outstanding Track -- Born To Lose
Lackluster Track -- Rock & Roll Doctor
Overall Grade -- B+
Black Sabbath Lineup
Lead Vocalists -- Ozzy Osbourne, Ronnie James Dio, Ian Gillan, Glenn Hughes,
Tony Martin
Guitarist -- Tony Iommi
Bass Guitarists -- Geezer Butler, Dave Spitz
Drummers -- Bill Ward, Vinnie Appice, Bev Bevan, Eric Singer
Keyboardist -- Geoff Nichols
Music Review
Copyright (c) 1994, Thomas Van Hook
All rights reserved
Parallel Dreams by Loreena McKennitt
Quinlan Road Limited QRCD 103
Copyright 1989 Stratford, Ontario Canada
Track Listing
1. Samain Night
2. Moon Cradle
3. Huron 'Beltane' Fire Dance
4. Annachie Gordon
5. Standing Stones
6. Dickens' Dublin (The Palace)
7. Breaking The Silence
8. Ancient Pines
"Beyond the transportation into fantasy, dreams have served as a vehicle
through which we have integrated our conscious and subconcious, the real and
the surreal, the powerful and the intangible.
The dreams found in this recording span a wide range from the contemporary
to the historical as in the Romeo and Juliet story of Jeannie and her lover in
"Annachie Gordon"; the singular as in the little Dublin street girl who dreams
of having a home; to the plural in those who who dream of freedom as reflected
in "Breaking The Silence"; or the earth's yearning for release from the
oppression of the human hand in "Ancient Pines." In the "Huron 'Beltane' Fire
Dance" I have tried to recall the reverence for dreams of the North American
first peoples and the early Celts. If there is a recurrent thread which runs
through these dreams it is one of yearning toward love, liberty and
integration. Of all the variations of dreams we may have, these surely are
our parallel dreams. --L.M." (1)
I first heard of Loreena McKennitt when I visited Dallas during the Christmas
of 1993. I had just come back from Germany with my wife (now my ex-wife) and
my son Corey for his first Christmas. Wanting to renew some of the
friendships that I had lost touch with over the past two years, I had asked
Tamara (STTS House-Poet) to arrange some "get-togethers" with our mutual
friends. One of these "meetings" was with our illustrious editor, Joe
DeRouen, and his wife Heather. During that night, Joe continually pumped CDs
into his stereo system as we all caught up on the gossip. One CD featured a
glorious feminine voice floating over some of the most exquisite music I had
ever heard. I asked who the artist was and was told it was Miss McKennitt.
From that moment on, I was hooked.
This is one of the prized CDs in my collection. Not a single track keeps my
heart from being stirred, awakening deep within my soul the dreams that I have
pushed further and further away. If there were a soundtrack to my soul...this
is it. If you love Celtic-style music...you cannot afford to not have this
artist in your collection. If you enjoy music along the vein of Andreas
Vollenweider and Yanni, you will more than likely fall in love with this
artist as well. Being that she is still not very well known as an artist (her
latest album was released on Warner Brothers with zero publicity), it will be
through mediums such as this that she will gain her fame.
In my opinion, she is one of the best artists of her genre. Give her CD a
spin in your deck and see if you don't agree.
(1) Taken from the liner notes to the Compact Disc
Outstanding Track -- Standing Stones
Lackluster Track -- You have got to be kidding!!!
Grade -- A+
Book Reviews
Copyright (c) 1994, Thomas Van Hook
All rights reserved
Chrome Circle by Mercedes Lackey and Larry Dixon
Baen Books, August 1994
Cover Art by Barclay Shaw
End Piece by Larry Dixon
ISBN 0-671-87615-5
For the past few years, Mercedes Lackey has enjoyed a loyal following of
readers that has steadily grown. The immense popularity of her various book
series (The Heralds of Valdemar, The Last Herald-Mage, The Mage Winds, Diana
Tregarde Investigations) have recieved critical acclaim from many corners of
the SF/F (Science Fiction/Fantasy) realm. Her characters have been right on
the money, while her storylines sensitive, funny and somewhat believable.
Once again, she is totally on target with "Chrome Circle," her latest offering
in the SERRAted Edge series.
These books are based around a group of Elves and humans in Georgia and some
of the mis/adventures that they have along the way. The Elves are interested
in stock car racing and build their own vehicles using magick and a bit of
technological wizardry (that's where the humans come in). The stock car
racing makes for a nice distraction from tense situations in the storylines,
but it still seems odd to me that Elves would be interested in human gadgetry.
After all, this Elf is particularly interested in fun, music and women -- but
that is beside the point (sigh).
The story follows one of the human mages named Tannim on his trip to visit his
folks in Tulsa, Oklahoma (Yessir! People actually DO LIVE in Oklahoma!!). He
gets visited by the lady of his dreams (literally), and she challenges him to
a duel. From here, the plot twists and turns like a roller-coaster, with some
quite preditable endings and some really shocking ones. While Miss Lackey
included several very funny scenes there is one thing missing that is usually
prevelant in her novels: Emotion. The story never really tugs at your
heart-strings like her "Last Herald Mage" or "Mage Winds" series do. She
never really gets you to "fall in love" with Tannim or Shar
(Tannim's love interest).
Art-wise, Barclay Shaw's cover-work is quite misleading. Shar is never
described in the manner that she is depicted on the cover. The dragon
Charcoal looks more like a maniacal horse with wings. Larry Dixon's end-piece
is obviously his attempt to put the drawing in a better light. His end-piece
is not as well-done as Shaw's -- and once again Charcoal looks like a horse
with an Ozzy Osbourne attitude! Big failure on both these artists' part.
All in all, "Chrome Circle" is much more enjoyable than most novels that I
have read. Being a big Mercedes Lackey fan, I enjoyed reading yet another
story in the SERRAted Edge series. I am dissappointed at the missing
emotional elements from the book, but I do recommend it to anyone looking for
a "fun" read.
Overall Grade: B-
Cover Art Grade: D
End-Piece Grade: F
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The Powers That Be
Copyright (c) 1994, L. Shawn Aiken
All rights reserved
The Powers That Be
by L. Shawn Aiken
I had a dream.
I wrote it down.
And here it is.
Two glowing eyes stared at Arthur from the interstate. His heart
thumped. The eyes raced by, showing a dark figure surrounded by a darker
pool. A cat. A dead cat.
The pain in Arthur's gut wavered, swaying back and forth from a
dull, numb sensation to a jabbing, poking explosion waiting to happen.
Should he pull over here? No. Too close to the cat. He would find an
exit.
The darkened highway stretched out before him. The feeble
headlights showed little of what was up ahead except glowing white markers
zipping under him. The rear view mirror showed him the opposite view,
smothered in a red haze.
Then orange, luminous markers to the side of the road showed him the
exit. He took it.
The conference in Little Rock had gone well. For some, at least.
How was Arthur to know that Mike Moorehead would be there? Eleven years
after graduation and Moorehead still remembered Arthur by the nickname
"Table". And Moorehead made sure that everyone at the conference called him
that.
Perhaps the name Arthur Roundtree lent itself to ridicule, but no
more than "Moorehead." Did Arthur even once call his high school
acquaintance by his old nickname? No. It would have been rude. They were
professionals now.
Arthur peered through the windshield. He had hoped the road would
lead him to a service station or a rest stop or something. Some sign of
civilization at least. But no. Nothing. Just a dirt road and pine trees.
A murky fog was rolling in from somewhere, probably the foothills nearby.
Arthur sighed. He would just have to relieve himself out in the open.
Light poured from above as he pulled the handle on the door. Arthur
noticed all of the rubbish in the passenger side of the floorboard. Bits of
paper and countless little hypodermic needles with orange plungers. He
shook his head and smiled. He would have to get onto Mary about that.
Arthur needed his cigarettes as much as she needed her insulin, but he
didn't make unholy messes all over the place.
A glance at the over-stuffed ashtray caused him to smile and eat his
words. He then noticed that musty ash smell that permeated the car. Arthur
loosened his belt and stepped outside.
A tingling void filled his gut as he slid back into his seat. The
night air was uncomfortably cold, but the relief he felt more than made up
for it. He started the car and drove on.
"Damn Moorehead," he said to himself. The more he thought of the
ferret-like little man, the angrier he got. It was like Moorehead was
playing some game with him - a game Arthur had never seen the rules to. And
who would have guessed Moorehead would have gone into the newspaper
industry? He had always been interested in stupid things, like football.
Most of the people at the convention talked about sports.
Especially the baseball strike that was paralyzing the major leagues at the
moment. But Arthur didn't know much about it, nor did he care. It did keep
him out of quite a few conversations, though.
Arthur mushed the cigarette dangling from his lips into the glowing
lighter. As he pulled it away, glowing flecks of tobacco stuck to the red
hot swirls of metal. He took a puff and looked out into the gravely road lit
poorly by his headlights. He should have gotten back to the interstate by
now. Had he taken the wrong turn?
The road abruptly ended in a barbed wire fence that initiated a
sharp downhill slope. He peered beyond it and thought he saw the sparkle of
water.
"Great," he yanked the gear shift into reverse. The headlights
died and the engine went silent. He sat motionlessly in the dark for a few
seconds, then tried the ignition. Nothing. No grinding. Not even a failed
turnover. He tried again. Still nothing.
"Crap," he slammed the steering wheel and reached over to the glove
compartment. It snapped open and he felt around. Just as he thought. No
flashlight.
He grudgingly stepped out of the car into the cold night air. At
least this time he wouldn't have to expose his privates to it. Darkness
enveloped him. He could not see his hands, much less the ground. But there
was some light. The grey fog seemed to glow with a brilliance all its own.
The moon, he surmised, but did not remember seeing it on the highway.
Arthur had seen nothing the way he had come in. The fence had to
have been built by someone. Most likely there was a house somewhere nearby.
He grinned to himself, picturing the house's residents as clones of
the little in-bred banjo player in Deliverance. He stopped grinning,
remembering the scene with Ned Beatty and the squealing. Why had Mary drug
him all the way up to the foothills of the Ozarks to live? It was
definitely not his element. He preferred big cities, like New York or Los
Angeles. Places where you could get whatever you needed, any time you
needed it. Mary agreed with him, saying that you could get shot anytime you
needed to as well.
"Our kids will be safer back home," she had told him. "They will be
closer to Aunt Jacene and Uncle Roy. They will have kids to play with, and
we won't have to worry about drugs or anything." That was before her
episodes that had made her barren.
That argument had never affected his decision anyway. Arthur always
had felt that kids should be exposed to the real world so they know how to
deal with it. The real reason was perhaps a bit more selfish.
"And daddy will give you any job you want at the paper," she had
smiled at him with that mischievous, 'I win the argument' glint in her eye.
"He will even make you editor, if that's what you want."
That had settled it. Of course, he had never planned to spend the
rest of his life in Arkansas. He saw the job as merely temporary. A place
to get experience at, then move on to bigger and better things. But Mary's
heart attacks had derailed everything.
He didn't blame her. He didn't blame anyone. At least until now,
stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a broken car and the cold air
seeping into his flimsy windbreaker. The obvious culprit was Moorehead.
Arthur popped the hood on the Chevy. He had left the Mercedes with
Mary in case she needed reliable transport. And it had the car phone in it,
just in case she needed it. He preferred the Nova anyway. It was were he
had lost his virginity to Mary. She had lost hers somewhere else. Mary
would sometimes jokingly say that she had lost it on a trampoline.
He dug the lighter from out of the pocket of the windbreaker as he
lifted the hood. There was a sharp smell of gasoline. The lighter played
nervously in his hands. He better not. The last thing he needed was an
exploding car to warm the night air.
The hood slammed down and he peered out at the fog. It glowed all
around, interrupted by the straight, dark trunks of the pine trees. No
signs of any habitation. Arthur was sure that the fence meant something.
Someone had to live nearby. If he could follow it to a gate or something.
Arthur reached out towards the fence, then remembered it was
barbed. He then knelt and felt the ground. There. Something rough. A
stick. He gripped it. Not too long. He smiled and yawned at the same
time, almost pulling a facial muscle he did not know he had.
He tapped the stick against the gate. A clanky - twang sound came
from it. Good. This would help guide him in the dark. Arthur took a step,
then hit the fence. He took another, and hit the fence again. It was
working.
A yawn broke forth from his again. It was late. He was tired. The
conference would not officially end until the morning, but Arthur had felt a
strange urge to come home. Speaking with Mary on the phone to make sure she
was all right had not quenched his urge. Moorehead was probably the real
reason, but he didn't want to think about it.
He stumbled on a root, then decided he should walk with another
stick tapping the ground. No. One hand had to be kept in his pocket or he
would feel he was freezing to death. The one stick could do both. A
clang - twang against the fence, a thump against the ground.
The glowing mist seemed to be closing in on all sides. Slowly,
oozing about. It had no real form, but Arthur imagined it as a giant bed
sheet wrapped around him. Or perhaps thousand of Ku Klux Klan members
marching towards him. That thought sent the small bit of Jewish blood in
him racing through his veins, trying to go deeper and deeper in his body.
Trying to run away. He smiled as he shut his eyes and imagined himself
machine-gunning people with pillows on their heads. Their leader was a man
named Moorehead, and he got more bullets that the rest.
Several minutes seeped by and Arthur realized something was missing.
He looked around. The mist was still there. The dark trees were still
there. But something was missing. Something important. He shrugged and
continued on, thumping away at the ground.
That was it! His heart pounded louder than the thumping. The
clang - twang was gone. He reached out with the stick. Nothing.
He stood motionless, trying to fight the urge to run. The random
roots would surely trip him, sending him headlong into a tree trunk. But he
couldn't hold back. He ran.
The stick waved quickly in front of him. Nothing. No noise. The
fence was gone! He kept running. Perhaps he was going the wrong way! He
turned and ran in another direction. Then in another. By the time the
stitch in his side came, he had no idea where he was.
But he saw something! A light. No. Not a light. It was a
building. Glowing. It looked like it was lit by the
fog. Or maybe the fog
was lit by the building. He walked quickly towards it, ignoring the sharp
pin in his abdomen.
The building grew clearer as he approached it. His first impression
was that it looked like the Alamo in San Antonio. Only build of grey rock.
But that wasn't the right shape. It seemed more like a Gothic cathedral
without spires. But that wasn't right either. Perhaps some other type of
structure. A castle? No. I was a movie theater! A grey stoned Gothic
movie theater? Was there such a thing?
He crept toward it slowly, the stick clenched in his hand. A golden
glow was emanating from inside, shining out through glass doors. Arthur
took his stick and tapped the stone steps leading up to it. They were real.
Inside he could see a glass counter, filled with candy and popcorn.
But he could not see anyone inside. There was no ticket booth. Arthur went
up the steps and tapped the door. It swung open.
What was this? Arthur's mind tried to pierce through the cold that
had seeped into his mind and find some explanation. He yawned. There was
no explanation there. With a deep breath of the cold night air, he stepped
inside.
The warm glow of the overhead lights seemed to heat his skin. It
felt good. The smell of fresh popped popcorn tickled his nose. The popcorn
machine was full to the brim of the fluffy stuff.
"Hello?" he said. Nothing.
"Hello!" he said louder. Still nothing. The carpet was clean. No
little bits of wrapper. No brown spots of spilled cola. No popcorn
shrapnel.
"Hello?" he said again. Double doors beyond the counter had a sign
above them: "NORWAY."
"I don't remember that movie," he muttered to himself. Still no one
had showed up. He walked silently to the doors. One was cracked open. A
big blue screen stared back at him from beyond the seats of the movie
theater. He looked back at the counter. No one.
Should he go in? He had not even paid. Would they be angry if they
found him in the theater without paying? He turned and looked through the
glass doors to the darkness outside. It certainly was much more comfortable
in here. Nice and warm. And it smelled good too. Should he get some
popcorn? No. That would be stealing. But sitting in an empty movie
theater? That would be okay. He opened the doors.
The seats were all clean and nice. No tears. No rips. And that
sickly smell of spilt cola was not present, even standing right next to the
trash can. He walked down the slopped isle. He got to the middle and
turned right. Then he counted off six seats, then sat down. His place.
His place in any movie house.
The seat was soft and comfortable. It was good to get the weight
off of his feet. It would be nicer to put his feet up on back of the seat
in front of him. But no, that would scuff it up. And maybe someone would
come and tell him to put his feet down.
Arthur closed his eyes and put his stick across the armrests. There
was no one to complain about that here now. He smiled and leaned back.
It got dark. Much darker than if he had just closed his eyes. He
opened them again. The lights were off and the screen was no longer
blue - but the glowing kind of black that movie screen get when film is
rolling. He looked up. Light was coming from the projection booth.
Somebody must was in there.
"Hello?" Arthur said toward the booth. Nothing. He did it again.
Still nothing. Perhaps it was automatic. Arthur shrugged his shoulders and
looked back at the screen.
"NORWAY," is said in big capital letters. The image was jumpy and
there were audible clicks like in an audio-visual film at school.
A majestic scene appeared. The walls of a glacier-plowed fjord
towed over head. The view rose slowly up over the cliffs, showing a
tree-studded plain filled with snow and purple mountains looming in the
distance.
"The beauties of Norway are at an arm's length with a simple visit
to your local travel agent," said a thickly accented voice. Arthur blinked
twice at the screen in amazement. What the hell was this?
The announcer continued, and an more panoramic views of the country
were shown. Huge, snow covered trees. Simple villages made up to look like
ancient Viking holdings. And the amazing shopping opportunities located at
easy to access locales in urban areas. Arthur shook his head, wondering
what was going on.
Then he saw it. Some one was standing behind a bush. Not a real
bush, but a bush on the screen. The person was crouched behind it as if he
were hiding.
Before Arthur could get a good look, the scene changed. Pretend
Vikings were on a pretend longboat, rowing away like mad. All except one.
One was not in Viking garb. He was hiding behind the other Vikings. But he
was there, all right. Arthur could see him. What was he up to?
The screen changed again. Young blonde couples were skating on a
frozen lake. The announcer described what joy they were having. But one
was having no joy. One of the people on the lake was just standing there.
He did not even have skates. He was looking. Staring. Staring at Arthur!
The scene changed. Arthur's heart was pounding and both hands
gripped the stick. He quickly scanned the scene. Was the person there? It
was a zoo. Bears. There were lots of bears. And people were looking at
the bears. All except one. One was staring at Arthur.
He had the countenance of a ferret - little black eyes and a long
nose. It almost twitched. His back was bent and his shoulders stuck out.
It made him almost look like a vulture. Some strange genetic mutation of a
ferret and a vulture. No humanity anywhere in the equation.
"Moorehead!" Arthur gasped and held the stick tighter. What was
going on here?
Giggles erupted. Not the maniacal giggles he had expected. Girlish
giggles. The scene changed. More girl giggles. He looked down at the
front row.
Three silhouettes were outlined against the screen. Arms were
undulating from them, and hands that were making dogie shaped shadows.
Suddenly one threw a handful of something at another. It sailed lightly
through the air and showered down. It was popcorn. The other returned the
blast, and more giggles ensued.
Arthur breathed deeply. People. Perhaps they could explain what
was going on. Just as he got up from his seat, on of the silhouettes stood
up. It was the one that had stayed out of the popcorn fight. Arthur walked
to the aisle and she met him there.
Her skin was pale and her eyes were dark. She was far shorter than
he was, but somehow she looked at him eye to eye.
"Can you tell me where we are?" he asked, still gripping the stick.
She pointed a finger at herself. "I am here," she said, then
pointed at him. "And you are there. Duh!"
Arthur breathed deeply. This was not going to be easy. "What is
your name?"
"Annakie, if it's all the same," she giggled.
"Where is this place?"
She sighed, "Norway. It's awful dull, isn't it?"
"Why was that man up on the screen?" he demanded. She took a glance
back.
"I didn't see any man," she said.
"But there was a man on the screen. A man that shouldn't have been
there!"
She shrugged. "You see what you want to see, don't you?"
He stared at Annakie.
"Come on. Let's go. I'm suppose to tell you something."
"What?"
"Not here," she shook here head. "Outside. Outside."
What was the girl on about? "Okay," Arthur said, and turned around
toward the double doors.
"No no," she tugged at his hand. "Out the back way. The exit. Not
the entrance. Down at the bottom of the theater. See?"
Arthur looked to where Annakie was pointing. A red neon sign over a
door. He nodded and they went down the aisle. The past the two other girls
on the way out.
"Who are they?" Arthur asked.
"They're my friends, but they don't know it yet," she smiled and
pushed the door open.
They came out into a courtyard. Four building faced them on all
sides. Large, gray, stone buildings. Gothic-like arches. Streaked with
acid rain. Deteriorating. Crumbling in chunks. Beyond them were the
silhouettes of slim pine trees and a gray mist coming from behind.
The girl walked to the center of the courtyard. There was a
monument. Or a obelisk. Or something. It was made of gray stone as well,
and rectangular in shape. Not a wall, though. It was much too short.
Perhaps only two feet high. Arthur followed her to it.
Annakie turned to him. "There will be a meeting of the Powers
soon."
Arthur stared at her blankly.
She pointed to her chest. "I'm a Power. See?"
"Um . . . no," he shook his head slowly.
"See!" she knelt down and pointed to the stone. There was a name
on the wall. "Dexter Geis." It had a line drawn through it. Underneath
was the name "Annakie Webber." There were other names on the stone, but
Arthur could not read them. They were not in a foreign tongue. He just
couldn't read them.
"You are a power," Arthur looked at her.
"No. A Power."
He nodded slowly, still not knowing what the hell was going on.
"And who told you to tell me this?"
"That's not what I'm supposed to tell you. Hold your horses and
I'll get to it," she stamped her foot. "I don't really remember who it was.
I was asleep and I'm kind of new here and don't know everything that's going
on." She looked up at him now, not eye to eye.
"Okay," he smiled reassuringly. For some reason he was feeling
sorry for her. He wanted to protect her. "So what are you supposed to tell
me?"
She breathed deeply. "The person that was the Power before me is an
old man. You should go meet him at a baseball game."
He nodded, still not understanding. "Okay. Is that it?"
"That's it a-rooney!" she laughed. "So you will go see him?"
"Uh . . . sure."
"Good. I have to go wake up and pee."
Arthur looked at the popcorn nestled in the white paper bag. It did
not smell as good as the movie theater popcorn. The hot dog in his other
hand was not right either. The hot dog itself was the wrong color and the
wrong shape, the bun was all out of sorts, and the mustard failed to be
yellow, but was a rather brown color.
"Your inner light is quite radiant," said someone next to him.
"Excuse me?" Arthur asked.
"What's the hold up. Pass me my popcorn and hot dog." The man
sitting next to him was an older man, greying hair, and was sporting the
beginnings of a beer belly.
Arthur passed him the food. His hands were all greasy now and he
wiped them on his pants. He noticed the stick was in his lap.
"GO CUBS!" the man next to him yelled. Arthur realized then that he
was in the bleachers of a baseball stadium. People were out on the field
standing around.
"Do they ever move?" Arthur asked.
"Why sure they do!" the old man laughed. "Someone has to hit the
ball first."
"Oh." Arthur looked around the stadium. It was filled with
people. They were all screaming and making noise. But the players on field
just stood there. "Are you Dexter?"
"Dexter's the name, if it's all the same," he laughed.
"Good. I think I'm supposed to meet you. I think. Everything is
really strange and I don't understand any of it."
"You are right there. Everything is really strange indeed," Dexter
turned to Arthur. "It all went wrong somewhere."
"What went all wrong? Where?"
"Nothing has been the same since Roswell."
"Roswell?"
"Yeah. Roswell. But they weren't aliens. They were something
else."
"Not aliens," Arthur nodded as if that actually meant something to
him. This was getting ridiculous. He looked out at the field. Someone was
actually moving - running from one little white thing to another.
"Wait a minute," Arthur glanced at Dexter. "I don't know much about
baseball, but isn't there a strike going on? Isn't this the major leagues?
This shouldn't be happening, should it?"
Dexter looked at him with sad eyes and sighed. "Oh dear. I'm
sorry." And then Dexter shrugged.
His eyes flashed open at the glowing white dots as they rushed by.
Arthur growled at himself in the darkness. He should not have fallen
asleep. Especially not when he was driving.
The pain in his . . . Arthur looked around. He didn't need to go
to the bathroom. That was strange. Just a few moments ago he . . .
Arthur took a deep breath. He passed another exit. He did not
need to go, but he felt like he should have turned down it. Or, more
correctly, he thought he already had. Strange images of a girl and an old
man drifted in his head. They did not seem to fit anywhere. He shrugged
his shoulders.
He glanced down at the passenger seat. A stick lay in it. His
heart gave one loud pound that rattled his eardrums. The stick. If the
stick was true . . . Memories flooded back. Strange things. Things he
could not explain, even though he spent the whole trip back home going over
them in his mind.
Arthur stretched his arms and his legs as far as they would go. The
sheets were nice and soft and there was a large, warm mass next to him. He
opened his eyes to the white, spackled ceiling and smiled.
"Good morning," his wife turned over next to him. Her heart-shaped
face gave him a sleepy smile.
"Morning honey," he grinned and Mary kissed him. "Sorry to come in
so late last night."
"It wasn't that late," she sat up and laid her head on his chest.
"It must have been very late," he shook his head and began to stroke
her hair
"No. I remember hearing you come in and I looked at the clock and
it was 12:14 exactly."
"Exactly," he chuckled. "If you were up, why didn't you say hello
to me?"
"I went to sleep. If I would have been awake when you got to bed we
would have talked all night and you would have been late for work."
"Don't be so sure that we would have just talked." Mary moved her
head to look at him.
"Why is there a stick on the night table?" she asked. Arthur's
heart thumped. He looked at the night table. There was the stick. It was
all there again. The movie house, the girl, the old man, and that creep
Moorehead. He took a deep breath.
"Uh . . . the Nova broke down just outside of town and I was trying
to fix it and . . ."
"You tried to fix the car with a piece of wood?" she sat up.
"Yeah. Best thing to use. And it worked didn't it?" he grinned and
sat up. "Can we play 'feel the pacemaker'?"
She rolled her eyes and tried to hide a grin. "I suppose so . . ."
"Good." he said and grabbed her right breast.
"The pacemaker, as well as the heart, are on the other side," she
rolled her eyes again.
"Oh, sorry!" he grabbed the right breast with his other hand.
Needless to say, he was late for work.
That day at work was terrible. His father-in-law had not liked the
idea of the conference from the start. "It's a God damned complete waste of
time. Who in the hell cares what other God dammed editors do with their God
damned rags. I have a business to run here and that don't include you
gallivanting off to the big city!"
Big city! Little Rock? Arthur wanted to educate old James Jayston
on a few of the realities of life, but he though better of it. And Jayston
ran the Searcy Gazetteer at a constant loss, anyway. It was just a big tax
write-off to him. Why should he care about it? He didn't want it to make
money. If it actually showed a profit he would loose money.
The fifth screaming session of the morning sent Arthur stomping back
into his cramped office. Mrs. Oglesvie, his secretary who was far too large
to share the office with, handed him a yellow piece of paper. It had that
sticky stuff on the back. He hated that stick stuff. It was of no use. It
held the note to a surface for two seconds. After that it was just a mess
that got your fingers nasty. He glanced over it. It read:
"Arthur. Meet me at the Searcy Zeppelinport. Dex."
Arthur reread the note. It still said the same thing.
"Mrs. Oglesvie. What is this?" he asked.
"A note," she said without looking at him. "It was stuck to the
phone when I got back from my coffee break. Don't know who wrote it. No
time or number or nothing."
"That's okay." He sat down at his desk and stared at the note.
Zeppelinport? What in the hell was that? An airport? They don't make
zep . . . He cut himself off. He was not sure why, but he did. He stood
up.
"Mrs. Oglesvie, I'm going to the municipal airport."
"Why?" she looked at him. "Has there been a crash? Should I tell
Gary to go get his camera?"
"Oh no. Nothing like that. I'm just . . . following a lead."
"Oh." she turned away. "Could you pick me up some bear claw's as
Sue's Bakery while you're gone?"
The blue Nova struggled its way up the road. Arthur could see the
control tower over the trees. Not a very tall tower, but it did it's job.
Various antennae and dishes poked out on top of it, mostly instruments for
NOAA.
He passed several small hangers. Outside of them were various prop
planes. Cessnas, Pipers, and Beechcrafts. Or Beechnut, as his wife called
them. Nobody was around.
At the end of the runway was a small shack. Something for
utilities, perhaps. The Nova pulled up outside of it and Arthur stopped the
car. He did not know why it was the shack. Perhaps it was supposed to be
the shack. But he did not know for sure. But he wanted it to be the shack,
if that meant anything.
He stepped out and opened the flimsy wood door. There was Dexter
with a pair of binoculars around his neck.
"Ready to do some Zeppelin spotting today?" Arthur's mind raced
with questions. But he forced them aside.
"Sure."
"I hear there is quite a crowd gathering to watch." Dexter walked
out of the shack.
"Where?"
"Right there," Dexter pointed down the runway. Near the control
tower a mass of people had gathered. Just outside the huge metal hanger.
It must have been several hundred yard long. Arthur blinked several times,
but it remained.
"I . . ."
"Here she comes!" he put the binoculars to his face. Arthur looked,
but could see nothing. He glanced back at the crowd. Women were holding up
parasols. Parasols?
"Looky that! Here, use the binoculars." Dexter handed them to him.
Arthur looked through them. Sky. Clouds. Trees. Zeppelin. Sky.
Zeppelin?
It was huge. It was very far away. But he could see it's shadow on
one of the hills. A huge cigar shaped silver thing. And a big swastika on
the back.
"Nazis?" he turned to Dexter.
"Nah. We don't call them that anymore," Dexter smiled. "Democratic
socialists. You see, the Hindenburg was only a plot. Hitler had it blown
up."
"A plot? Hitler?" The zeppelin was getting closer. He could make
it out with the naked eye now.
"He saw that zeppelins could be a big threat to the Third Reich if
other countries used them for troop and supply transport. So he had it
blown up right on American soil, right in front of reporters and cameras.
Scared the shit out of the American people. As soon as the war ended,
Hitler started building them again."
"War ended? Hitler?"
"Yeah. After he won. You know." Dexter looked at him strangely.
"Yeah," Arthur nodded slowly. "After he won."
"Good," Dexter slapped him on the back. "Come on. This is a big
day. It's not every day that a zeppelin comes to Searcy. We aren't on the
main route. Let's go get some beer and sauerkraut. Das ist gut, ja?"
Arthur's elementary German could handle that and he nodded. They
made there way to several tables laden with food and drink. An oompah band
was setting up outside of a hanger that housed commercial Messerschmidt prop
planes.
Dexter handed him a mug of beer.
Arthur looked at him. "What's going on?"
"A celebration! A party!" Dexter laughed, then his expression
changed as he looked at Arthur. "Sorry, sometimes I loose myself in these
things."
"What things?"
"Things, you know," Dexter waved his hands around.
"Dexter, there is a Nazi zeppelin bearing down on my home town right
at this very instant. I want to know what the hell is going on."
Dexter smiled. "You've entered my universe. Just agree with me,
and everything will go smoothly."
"Universe?"
Dexter took a swig of beer. "Okay. There are three universes. My
universe. Your universe. Then everybody else's universe. You live in
everybody else's universe. You barely get to see your own universe. But
you are getting a chance to see mine. Neat, huh?"
Arthur looked at the beer mug in his hand. It was still full. He
could not have possibly gotten drunk yet. So why was he seeing zeppelins?
"I see you don't understand. Okay. You have your universe. That's
totally different than anybody else's universe. And everyone has their own
universe. But then there is everybody else's universe. You see? It's a
mesh of everybody's universes all put together. Kind of like a grand
central station. It's where everybody meets. It's what people normally
call reality."
Somewhere inside of him it clicked, but not at any area near the
surface of his consciousness. It had something to do with philosophy and
religion, but this was something else. This was actually happening!
"What has this got to do with anything?" Arthur cried. "What does
this have to do with the movie house and the girl and what you said about
Roswell?"
"Oh, Roswell," Dexter took a sip of his beer. "That was my fault.
Back when I was a kid I was living in the southwest. I had read H. G. Wells
and stuff and really wanted there to be aliens. Martians. I wanted them so
bad that it bled over into the real universe and aliens crash landed. Boy
was the Council pissed." He took another sip of beer.
"What do you mean? What council?"
"The Council of Powers. They did their best to clean it up. Erased
it from history and everything. But people don't forget things like that -
even when they have been erased."
"What Council? What are the Powers?" Arthur was getting desperate.
He took a sip of beer.
"The Council. Of Powers. I was a Power. Not back when Roswell
happened, of course. But they saw that I had the Power and so they let me
be a Power. I kind of messed up, though."
Arthur scratched his head. "Messed up how?"
"That whole World War Two thing," she sighed.
"You mean the Nazi zeppelin?"
"No," he smiled. "This is just for fun. I mean the real World War
Two. The one you are familiar with. The one I messed up."
Arthur shook his head. This was not getting anywhere. But maybe if
he played along. "How did you mess it up?"
"Well, your World War Two isn't the right one. You see, my father
died during the Invasion of Japan. There was an Invasion of Japan, you
know."
"With the bombs?"
"No. The nukes came after. No. They came before. Well, it depend
on how you look at it. You see, they didn't have nukes back then."
"They had two, didn't they?"
"No. None. And they wouldn't have had any for another two hundred
years.
"Huh?"
Dexter gulped half of his beer down. "You see, the Pacific theater
was really nasty. It took years to finally conquer Japan and millions of
men died. My father died in 1947 in the third wave. It wasn't until 1953
that Japan finally surrendered. Actually, they didn't surrender. There was
just no one left to fight. Then the Americans and Russians started fighting
over China. Then over Europe. World War Two didn't really ever end. Well,
I guess it would have ended eventually."
"You mean, in your universe," Arthur nodded. He was sure he was
understanding it all now.
"No. In the real universe. The one you live in. After I became a
Power with the Seat of Time, I did a few things. A few very powerful
things. Things that the Council wasn't even aware of. I went back in time
and gave a fellow named Einstein what he needed to build a nuclear weapon.
Just the idea, really. He figured it out for himself - and he never really
knew that anyone had given him the information."
"So wait a minute. The bomb was built. It didn't happen any other
way."
"Well, you see, my father died in the invasion. I wanted him back,
so I fixed it so he would still be alive. The council didn't even catch on
for a while. But when they figured it out, boy were they mad. That's why I
got kicked out."
Arthur looked at the Zeppelin. It was much closer. It was huge.
The crowd was cheering.
"I don't really understand."
"I don't really either," Dexter finished his beer. "I get banished
from reality and get locked in my own universe. I can only peek out under
special circumstances."
"Like what?"
"Like with this deal with you. It's very hush hush. Only half the
council is in on it."
"What deal with me?" Arthur was at his wits end. But it had
something to do with him. So perhaps he could understand it.
"What I did was so big that it screwed up everything. Not even the
Council could fix it without having to rework the fabric of the universe.
Big. I didn't realize how big. And now everything is botched because of
technology. Half the council wants to throw it out."
"Throw out technology?" Arthur shook his head. Perhaps he would not
understand this after all.
"Yeah. Go back to the way it was originally. Magic. You know.
Hocus Pocus? The Council is split fifty-fifty. Except for the Seat of
Time."
"Your seat?"
"Not any more. The girl. Annakie. She has got it now. The way it
is set up, half the Council is pro-magic, and half the Council is
pro-technology. Annakie will make the deciding vote, and they already know
she is a namby-pamby pro-magicer. Giving a little girl a seat. A little
girl who loves unicorns and pegasi! Pah! Talk about tipping the scales of
justice. She is real young, though. Real inexperienced. You have already
seen how easy she can be manipulated."
"How?"
"She delivered the message to you herself," he laughed. "The
message for her own demise."
"Demise? What do you mean?"
"You are going to kill her and take her place on the Council as the
Power on the Seat of Time."
Arthur dropped his mug. It crashed to the ground. Suddenly,
darkness enveloped him. He looked up. The zeppelin was overhead. It was
huge. One of the largest structures he had even seen. And it was floating
above him.
"What do you mean 'kill her?!'" he screamed over the oompah band's o
ompahing.
"Kill. A non-Power can kill a Power. You just find their body and
kill it. And she has to be killed or technology will vanish. Where would
your wife be without technology?"
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. The blood was pounding in his head.
He refused to believe any of this was happening.
The flimsy door to the shack swung open. A few fire extinguishers,
some rope, and a trash can. Arthur peered inside. No one.
He looked around. The sky was clear. A few birds overhead. High
above the clouds there was a glint of metal. A plane. A military plane.
He knew why it was here. The hills were littered with nuclear missile
silos. The planes kept watch. Exactly what for, Arthur never knew.
But no zeppelin. No oompah band. No ladies with parasols. No
Dexter. And no command to kill a fourteen year old girl. He got into the
Nova and drove away.
His wife's sweet face came to his mind. And the pacemaker that kept
her heart beating rhythmically. Without the unholy thing it would flutter
and fail. Like it had done before. So many times before. And the girl's
face came to his mind as well.
Mrs. Oglesvie was upset that he had not returned with the bear claws
so she left without notice. It would be just as well. Arthur would have
time to think alone. He pulled a cigarette from his drawer and lit it.
He loaded up his communications software into the computer. A
mouse click here and a mouse click there connected him with the on-line
service. The headlines stared back at him on the opening screen. It was
the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima and a large protest had been
held there. North Korea was ranting about nuclear inspections. And another
sizable chunk of nuclear material had been seized in Germany. Destination
unknown, but the source was Russia.
Was all of it real? Really real? Or was it Dexter's dream imposed
on everyone else to save his father. Or was Arthur going insane?
He checked his mail box. It was crammed with electronic
advertisements, a few of the newsletters that he subscribed to, and a
rejection from an electronic magazine that he had sent a short story to.
Arthur sighed and began flipping randomly through the system out of boredom
while taking puffs on his cigarette.
The on-line Omni had several interesting articles about Ufos. One
was about the cover-up at Roswell. The dead alien bodies were stored
somewhere in Northern California, and the surviving alien was teaching
astrophysics at Berkeley. Normally he would have smiled at reading such a
thing, but he could not find the motivation.
He continued to randomly flip through menus and ended up at the
User's Directory. He absent-mindedly typed in "Annakie Webber." The system
sputtered a bit and shot the name back. There was an Annakie Webber. She
lived in Sherman, Texas. And she liked horses and fantasy books and her
favorite author was Marion Zimmer Bradley.
The screen stared back at him for some time. She was real. And she
liked fantasy.
The chair seemed to swirl about, making him dizzy. Was it true? Or
was he just in some alternate universe where he wanted it to be true? He
stared at the name. He disagreed with it. He squinted his eyes and
disagreed with it harder. But it was still there. It wasn't Dexter's
doing.
What if it was true? What if all technology would cease? What if
the pacemaker in his wife's chest stopped? Perhaps he could talk to the
girl. Change her mind.
He glanced over her dossier and shook his head. It was firmly
entrenched in fantasy. She seemed to spend all her time on the system doing
something fantasy related. She even belong to some medieval group called
the Society for Creative Anachronisms. He had heard of it. Strange people
that dressed up in strange costumes who would go off and live in the woods
in pavilions over the weekend. Not a good sign.
But what happened if magic suddenly ruled the land. Perhaps magic
could save his wife. But could it? Would Dexter would know?
The computer beeped. A line was flashing. Someone on the network
was requesting a chat. He accepted it.
A window opened up. He looked at it. Nothing was being written on
the other side. Several seconds later text began to show up.
"Sorry about the delay," the screen said. "The moon is pretty far.
Speed of light and all that."
"Hello?" Arthur typed. "Who are you?"
More delay. Then, "Dexter, of course.<G>"
"Where are you?" he typed.
"<LOL> I told you. On the moon. Tranquility Facility, actually."
"What?"
"There you go again. Everything progressed quickly after the
Russians landed at Mare Fecunditatus in 68'. We had to bust our asses to
set up a base of our own. Luckily Grissom, Borman, and McDivitt made it
there safely and set up the missile emplacements. God knows what would have
happened if we had let it go unchallenged."
Arthur stared at the screen. Somehow it appeared different. It was
rounder - not square. And the label said "Atari", not "IBM" like it was
supposed to.
"Oh," he typed. "I want to ask you about . . . the magic." He took
a puff on the cigarette. Something was wrong with it. It wasn't tobacco.
It tasted like burning wood. And there was no nicotine in it.
"What about the nasty stuff?" Dexeter's type appeared.
"If the magic comes, can't the magic be used to fix the problems
that happen when technology disappears?" He felt stupid for asking the
question. The whole thing seemed stupid. Insane.
"The Council of Powers already has the plan. Technology will cease
to function. All computers will die. Radio won't work. Nothing above a
simple pulley mechanism will survive. And then the magic will come in.
Gradually, over a period of time, people will learn how to use it. Only
those who know how to use it will gain any benefit. And since no one
expects what will happen, no one can prepare. At midnight tonight, the
world will end."
Arthur blinked. Midnight. Not enough time.
"Why can't you do something about it? You can control time," he
typed.
"Time may be an important factor to you, but it is only a minor
concern to the Council. There are far more powerful things. I have no
power in this matter. It is up to you."
A tear welled up in his eye. Arthur refused to believe in it. It
could not be. He banished Dexter.
The computer beeped. A message flashed that someone on the computer
network wanted to chat with him. He accepted.
"Table man! I didn't know you were one this network," the screen
blurted. Arthur's eyes widened.
"Moorehead?" he typed slowly.
"Yeah, it's wonderful me! We had a wonderful time without you at
the conference. You were dragging everybody down."
"Fuck off, Moorehead," he typed and yanked the plug out of the wall.
His blood has boiling. His head was hot. A fever. He was sick. That
would explain it. Something was in his lap. He looked down. There was the
stick.
Mrs. Oglesvie walked in the office holding a coffee mug and a white
paper bag filled with bear claw's. They were warm and they filled the
office with their sweet scent. Arthur breathed deeply and swiveled his
chair toward her.
"I need to find an address of someone living in Sherman, Texas," he
said. She sat down and did not look at him.
"The library has phone books from all over. Why not check there."
She pulled out a bear claw and took a big bite.
He swiveled his chair back to his desk. Like the screen of an old
ATM monitor, fuzzy text appeared on the computer screen:
"Table, Mary will die." It faded slowly away.
The sun was setting right into his eyes. Arthur pulled down the sun
shade but it did not help. Finally the interstate curved positioned the sun
behind an eighteen wheeler.
The address had taken an hour to find. His father-in-law had
tracked him down to the library. Veins were bulging in his neck. Before
the man could speak a work, Arthur told him to fuck off. That had shut him
up. And perhaps it had cost Arthur his job as well.
The address was on a little piece of paper on the dashboard in front
of him. One of those nasty yellow things with the sticky crap on the back.
It was the only thing he could find.
He still could not think about it. He was going to some one horse
town in Texas. For no real reason. Perhaps he would just look around.
Then leave. Or maybe he would drive by the Webber house. The only Webbers
who lived in Sherman.
That was what he would do. Arthur glanced down at the passenger
seat. There lay a hypodermic needle and a bottle of insulin. An overdose
of insulin would kill a person dead. And it was very hard to trace. He had
snuck the bottle from his wife's supply. She had enough for several months,
at least.
No, he was not going to Sherman for any reason. Just to drive
around. Look at the sights. Then he would go home. He would do nothing.
The needle was not one of those small kinds that Mary used. It had
a big, wide chamber that could suck up the entire contents of the insulin
bottle. The little ones wouldn't do the job.
What was in Sherman, anyway? It was probably just like Searcy.
Nothing. Nobody. Just people that time had left behind somewhere. But
Dallas was nearby. Perhaps he could stop off at the Book Depository
Building and look at the grassy knoll. Kennedy had been assassinated,
hadn't he? Or course he had. This was the real world.
Her mouth would be soft and warm when he clamped his hand over it
and jabbed the needle into her neck. Would it take long? Would she scream?
She would look into his eyes. Most definitely. She would look into his
eyes.
He pulled the car over onto the shoulder and jumped out of the car.
He ran. He ran across the access road, jumped a fence, and ran out into a
pasture. The land was flat. As far as the eye could see. A few clumps of
trees dotted here and there, but that was about it. He stopped running and
bent over, heaving.
"Dexter!" he straightened up. "Dexter! I refuse to do this. Do
you hear me! I refuse."
A rabbit ran by him. Well, not quite a rabbit. Something like a
rabbit.
"Damn." Arthur hear something behind him. It was Arthur. In a
loin cloth. Carrying a spear with a flint head.
"I won't do it," Arthur crossed his arms.
"My dinner just got away," Dexter panted and leaned on his spear.
"The tribe will go hungry tonight."
Arthur did not have time for this. "I don't have time for this."
"Things haven't been the same since Kulet killed Og," Dexter looked
at him and smiled.
"Listen, I don't want to talk about this. I refuse to kill her.
I'm not going to do it. Do you understand?"
"Og was the one who thought of planting seeds. But Kulet killed him
before he could tell anyone. Things just haven't gone smoothly for humanity
since. Have they?"
"Are you listening to me?" Arthur barked.
"Without that one spark of brilliance, we never could get organized
enough to even wipe out the mammoths," Dexter pointed to the horizon.
Arthur saw large, dark shapes moving against it. Low, distant noises
flittered through the wind to his ear.
"What happens if I kill her? She will be dead. I will go to
prison - and rightly so. I don't have even have a good excuse. Son of Sam
had the dog tell him to do it. What do I have? Some old man with a beer
belly dressed up in a loin cloth. And what will change if I don't?
Nothing. Can you tell me of anything that will change if she lives?"
"Do you really want to see?" Dexter eyed him. Dexter's blood
chilled and he shivered.
"Yes. Show me."
They were outside of his house. The houses were scattered out at
this distance from Searcy's center. Each house had a lot the size of an
acre. And all filled with trees. Lots of thin, dark trunked, pine trees.
The lights on the house were on and the Mercedes sat outside. Long ago the
garage had been converted into a children's bedroom. A bedroom that they
had never needed.
"Look at your watch," Dexter told him. Arthur looked down and
squeezed the light button.
"Eleven fifty-nine. No. Twelve." The house went dark. A scream
echoed throughout the house. Then silence.
Bam-bam. His heart almost blasted out from his chest. He started
running he couldn't think. He ran to the house. This couldn't be
happening. It couldn't. It couldn't.
He leapt over the fence and ran. Something caught his foot and he
stumbled. Arthur looked back. It was the stick. It came into his hands
and he walked back to the car.
Sherman was different than he imagined. It was more spread out. It
was filled with large plants. Big companies. He wondered if it was cheaper
for them out here, away from the big city and less taxes.
It was dark. He turned down a farm road. It was called a farm
road, but he could not see any farms. Housing developments. A pasture of
two. Then he drove by a large factory. It stank. It stank just like
burned coffee. It was a coffee plant.
He turned down a street. It could have been any street. In any
suburb. Anywhere in America. Except maybe for the wagon wheel decorations
on the lawn and the high flying Texas flags that flapped from every other
house.
There it was. He could not breath. The Webber house. Green with
little wooden duckies on the lawn. And a curved driveway. He parked his
car across the street from it grabbed for the insulin. The stick came to
his hand instead.
Arthur looked at it and closed his eyes. None of this is happening,
the thought, and opened his eyes. He was still in Sherman. It was still
night. He was still across the street from the Webber house.
He snatched up the insulin and the needle and exited the car. The
door he left open. No reason to make noise shutting it.
The flicker of the street lamp gave him enough light to safely make
it up to the house. The grass was wet on his shoes. He walked up to the
front door.
Stupid. Just knock on the door and ask for Annakie. Right. He
shook his head and looked at the side of the house. It was dark. Everyone
must be asleep.
His legs began to tremble as he made his way around the windows.
What was he doing? Perhaps he was here just to talk. He rolled the insulin
bottle around in his hand.
None of the window curtains were fully closed. He peered in one. W
as that a couch he saw? A living room?
The next was a small window. A dim light came from it. The
kitchen. He could see the sink just below him and the counters. A light
was coming from the refrigerator. It was one of those kinds that had a
water and ice nook in the door. Papers were stuck on the front, but he
could not see what was on them. But he could imagine. Cute little crayon
drawings. A tear came and he wiped it on his sleeve.
Between the side of the house and the side of the next door
neighbor's house was another window. He peered in. It was dark. But he
could see a sparkle on the wall. Was it glitter?
It was paper. Paper and glitter. Rainbow glitter. In the shape of
a unicorn. His chest tightened. He was just here to talk. The needle fell
from his hand and he stooped to pick it up.
The screen. It needed to be removed. He nervously stuck the
insulin and needle into his windbreaker pocket and pulled out his keys.
They jingled loudly.
He stiffened so tight he thought he heard his spine crack. Still.
Arthur stood motionless. Did she hear? Nothing happened. She must be
still asleep. A cigarette would have calmed his nerves, but this was not
the time.
He took one of the keys and pried at the screen. It came off
easily. Too easily. He had to catch it as it fell toward him. Then he
carefully set it on the ground and looked at the window. Was it locked?
A fourteen year old girl in a small town knows no fear. No real
fear, at least to his mind. Annakie would not lock it. She had never had a
reason to. She was a Power, after all.
He stuck his fingernails at the bottom of the window and pulled up.
It slid freely. Cool, air-conditioned air blew in his face.
He closed his eyes. It was not happening. He opened them. The
window was still there. He could hear breathing. Soft breathing.
The window was difficult to climb through. He scraped his leg on
the sill as his slid in and dragged himself down to the floor. The room
slowly brightened as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.
There was a smell of perfume. Not a woman's perfume, but girl's.
Cherry or strawberry. A fruity smell. Perhaps lip gloss. He stood up.
The wall were coved with posters. Unicorns. Dragons. Pegasi. All
manner of magical beasts. There was a mirror dresser with little bottles on
it. And pictures stuck to the mirror. People. Girls. He could not make
them out, though.
Then he turned to the bed. It was a canopied bed. Some light
color. Perhaps pink, although he was not sure. And there she was.
Sleeping on her back. An elaborate quilt over her. A huge pillow under her
head.
He almost dropped the insulin bottle as he fumbled with it, removing
it from his pocket. He withdrew the hypo. She was breathing gently.
Completely unaware.
Stop! He screamed to himself. The cap came off the needle
smoothly. Arthur inched closer to her. His heart has pounding,
reverberating through his body.
Mary had asked him to help with her insulin occasionally. Arthur
always refused. He could never bear to poke her with a needle. He could
not even bear to watch Mary inject herself. But she would do it in front of
him anyway, despite his protests.
He thrust the needle at the cap of the insulin bottle and missed,
jabbing his thumb. Bone. He yanked it out and crammed his thumb in his
mouth to keep from yelling.
Blood. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. His legs began
to shake and he stopped inching toward her. What would her parents say in
the morning when they found her body? Was her life worth Mary's?
He ripped the question from his mind and yanked his thumb out of his
mouth. The needle went into the cap easily, and in the gloom he could sense
the hypo filling up with the fluid. The needle slid easily out of the
bottle. He crept up to the side of the bed.
She moved slightly and Arthur froze. The dark hair framed her white
face, and the ruffles of the pillow gave the appearance that she was lying
on a bed of flowers. How beautiful she was. How innocent. Could she
possibly be the source of all his problems?
His hand reached out toward her, but he yanked it back. Arthur
could not touch her. He just couldn't. He would have to quickly jab her
and inject her and run away.
Her neck. It was so smooth. The vein leapt out at him. Was that
the best place for it? Mary always put it in her belly. But he could not
bring himself to even thinking of doing that to Annakie. The neck. It had
to be the neck.
The needle slowly moved toward the vein. Arthur closed his eyes and
told himself none of this was happening. When he opened them it still was.
His heart began to pound. His mind began to scream.
"Stop me!" he screamed in his mind. "Wake up and stop me! Scream
and call for your parents! Stop me!"
She didn't move. The needle hovered over her skin. Then he dropped
the bottle of insulin.
It hit her on the arm. Her eyes flashed open and stared at him.
But not in terror. A smile came over her face and she shook her head.
Annakie waggled her finger at him. "I don't think so!"
His eyes flashed open at the glowing white dots as they rushed by.
Arthur growled at himself in the darkness. He should not have fallen
asleep. Especially not when he was driving.
But he had not been asleep. And why was he looking for an exit?
Arthur did not need to do anything. He turned on the radio and smiled. And
he sang.
I've been from Phoenix, Arizona,
All the way to Tacoma,
Philadelphia, Atlanta, L. A.,
Northern California,
Where the girls are warm,
So I can here my sweet baby say . . .
But where was he? Where had he been? Arthur recognized the area.
He was on his way back home. But where had he been?
Perhaps he had went out driving. But at night? You can't see
anything at night. Where, then? Phoenix, Arizona?
He shrugged his shoulders. Maybe he went nowhere. Maybe he was
picked up by aliens and had some anal probing done. He smiled, but for some
reason the smile faded. Arthur looked down at the passenger seat.
The stick. His eyes screamed at it. The stick. And next to it, an
empty insulin bottle. His heart pounded. Then he saw the hypo. It was
sitting there. Full.
He slammed the gas pedal and was pushed back in the seat. The clock
glued to the dashboard read 11:55. His heart stopped, then blasted him,
reverberating in his bones.
The tires squealed as he turned off the main road, down his street.
Then the car died. He slammed on the brakes. And jumped out of the car.
There was a hill just before the houses on his street. An empty
hill, full of trees. He ran up it, gasping for air. Stumbling, he reached
the crest. The houses came to view. The lights were on.
He ran. He ran past the Baker's house. The ran past the
McCandley's two story place. He panted up the road and jumped the ditch
that lay between the road and his lawn.
The light were still on. He smiled. It must be past midnight.
Nothing had happened. Then the lights went out. A scream cracked the still
night air.
The blood in his temples screamed in unison. He raced up the walk
to the door. It wouldn't open. It was locked. The keys were in the car.
He banged on the door. And again. Nothing.
The window. He picked up a rock from the garden and threw it. The
glass smashed. he ripped through the screen and flung himself inside.
There she was. In her blue housecoat. Crumpled on the floor. A
broken coffee mug lay near a dark stain on the carpet. He ran to her and
gathered her up in his arms.
Warm. She was still warm. Nose. Her nose. He held his hand in
front of it. Nothing. He put his head to her chest. Nothing. He beat on
her chest. Nothing.
Arthur laid her back on the floor. Tilted her head back. Blow.
Pump. Blow. Pump. He had studied CPR so much that it was a part of his
being. But nothing was happening. Nothing at all.
A minute passed. Pump. Blow.
More minutes. Pump. Blow.
Half and hour. Pump. Blow.
He was exhausted. She was still dead. He stopped and screamed.
"Bastards!"
A swirling motion began in the room. It slowly took form in front
of him. A face. A body. Crooked shoulders. The long nose.
"Moorehead?"
"The Power of the Seat of Death, if it's all the same," his eyes
rolled upward into the back of his head and he let out the gurgle that had
passed as a laugh for so many years. "Since college, in fact. Since then
I've had my eye on you - and her."
"No . . ." Arthur's jaw dropped. The beady little eyes brightened.
"Let go of her. She's in my domain now. There is nothing you can
do," he gurgled.
Arthur refused to agree. He refused to agree. Never. Never would
he agree. She was alive. In his reality, she was alive. She would always
be alive. What did the psychiatrists call that. Denial? They said it was
wrong. But it was the only right thing to do. She would not die. Never.
Not now.
Other universes. The Real Universe. Grand Central Station. His
mind spun about. It had changed. They had changed it. Sweat poured from
him and he leaned back on his heels. Moorehead stopped gurgling and cocked
his head.
Deep inside him. He felt it. It had always been there. But
Council had forbidden it for so long. He demanded it to come out. It
refused. He coaxed it. It was shiny and warm. It was himself.
Power filled him. He looked down at his wife. He could see inside
her body. The scared heart that had exploded. The faulty glands. The
broken womb that had witnessed the death of a child. And deeper. Smaller
but bigger. The blueprints. The errors.
He took the Power. He took the Power and fixed her. Smoothed out
the rough edges. Mended the broken bits. Then he called her. Coaxed her
out from hiding. Out from whatever dark place she had retreated to. Back
to where he needed her.
She opened her eyes.
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Are you okay?" she asked. He reached down and hugged her. With an
angry hiss, Moorehead vanished, leaving a void filled with fullness.
The walked out of the darkened house hand in hand. The sky was
brightening in the north. She looked at him but he had no answers for her.
Something rose from the tree tops.
It was not the sun. It was a great golden ball on fire. The
tendrils of flames coated it and shot forth from it, lighting the entire
sky. It did not seem to care that all the clocks said it was midnight.
Arthur heard hoofs tromping through the pine needle littered ground.
He turned to look. It was Annakie, upon a unicorn with a glowing golden
horn.
"You see?" she tilted her head from side to side. "It all turned
out all right. And you are the first."
She then rode out of sight. Not behind something, but into
something. Mary looked at him, but he still had no answers.
They hugged each other and looked out at the horizon. But there was
none. The land just kept on going. The earth's curve no longer hid the
land beyond. The earth was now flat.
A presence filled his mind. It was Dexter, and Arthur smiled. "It
all turned out all right," Dexter's voice huffed. "Yeah, sure. Wait till
you see what happens after this."
He kissed Mary and they turned their eyes towards the stars. But
they were not stars any more. They were silver fish swimming in a giant
velvet ocean. And nearby, sitting on a rock, was a cat. A cat with golden
glowing eyes, pawing at them.
Madge's Medal
Copyright (c) 1994, Franchot Lewis
All rights reserved
MADGE'S MEDAL
by Franchot Lewis
There was no honeymoon, because the day after we got married
was a monday, and on Mondays, I had to go to work. Madge had to go
to her job too. But that Sunday night of our wedding day, I'd planned
to go to work on Madge. She was a sweet girl, a nice girl. We got
married at noon in a church. Her mama and grand mama sang a hymn.
Her father gave us a nice reception that went on all afternoon and
into the early evening. So many of her relatives were in attendance
and there were so many toasts.
Madge sat on the bed rubbing her hand over the small medal of
Jesus dangling from a silver chain around her neck. The silver figure
of a hippy-headed Jesus that looked like a young Errol Flynn had a
polished shine. She rubbed upwards over the flawlessly engraved nose
and on, around the face. She then got off the bed, went and stood
in front of the full-length mirror. She held the chain with
reverence as an enormous sigh shook loose from her belly. She thrust
her chest forward, causing the medal to bounce and swing from side
to side. She then turned and returned to the bed where I, her newly-
wedded husband, waited, wearing my fireman red wedding night briefs
that she brought for me to wear. I'd prepared myself carefully in
the bathroom [cologne, aftershave, a touch of musk, a tonic of
ginseng root that I was told gave a man an extra measure of strength;
not that I felt I would need it, I felt more than ready for Madge].
I'd only a second before laid down on top of the sheets. My
patient eyes zeroed in on the shining medal of Jesus [The face - the
silver colored engraved eyes looked like little gleaming bumps].
"This is Jesus, my good luck piece," Madge said. "Now, Honey,
let's pray before we start our wedding night." She smiled as she
pulled back the sheet and slid in to the bed with me. We prayed.
After the prayer, I thrust my hips to hers and held us together.
Using every bit of my strength, I pulled her closer, persistently,
until the hard shining medal - pinching, scraping, grating - hurt
my chest too much.
"I hope I don't get permanent scars," I said softly. [Mumbled,
maybe. Groaned. Muttered ...]
"Oh, excuse me," she pulled away, politely.
"What's that!" I asked. [Maybe barking, a little. Just a
little.]
"My Jesus? My medal?" she bitched. [Barked. Maybe asked just a
little too annoyed.]
I asked, "Are you going to keep it on?"
"Yes," she answered, a little louder than I'd expected. "I don't
take it off, not even in the shower."
"We're not in the shower -"
"Don't start raising your voice to me. Ever since the day I
accepted my Lord and have been saved and have come to love Jesus
very much I have worn this. This medal is something that will keep
me in luck. I made a promise never to let it out of my possession."
As she told me this, I started to remove her night gown. Her
young breasts re-fired quickly my passion, and took my attention and
caused my caressing hand to - 'Lord, have mercy!' [I may have
mumbled this.] - Oh, I had the intense desire to cover her breasts
with my chest, and as I did, the brutal medal caused my chest pain.
The medal was incredibly rough, like a claw, scratching my skin raw,
causing a red bruise and pricking a small drop of blood. From that
moment on I became determined to get her to remove the medal. She
would not, and so, the wedding night was a night of misfortune, of
me trying to embrace her and of me complaining about the medal.
Eventually, I had to abandon the activities I had long planned and
hoped for, for that night. My bride accused me of being only
interested in carnal sex, and of caring more about carnal sex than
having Jesus there to bless us and to watch over our marriage.
I attempted a few times to remove the medal. She repeated that
she would not take off the medal. "Not ever!" she snarled. [Yeah,
like a dog. A certain female dog, I'm sorry to say.]
I told her, I would not embrace her until she removed the medal.
I said that being married didn't warranted being marred by that
trinket of Jesus and given scars that would last for a life time.
She got pissed, said I had an attitude, was being mean and was
acting in a sinful, terrible way. "A groom doesn't act like you
toward his bride, " she said with her own attitude. And, so, as
I've stated, I gave up in despair.
The strong, natural urge to consummate the marriage grew stronger.
By the next day I was irritable and nervous. I believe I came to the
edge of a nervous collapse. I even sought the help of a work buddy,
an older man whose opinion I valued. I did not like what he had to
say. He told me there was nothing he could advise, except I should
snatch the medal from my wife's neck and get down to some immediate
relief. He said, if I didn't take action I would definitely end up
in a mental institution.
That evening I was in the bathroom, breathing hard, aroused with
intense carnal thoughts. My bride stretched to adjust the shower
head. I could see her clearly through the transparent curtains.
She in the sensuous all-together - The shower water falling down, and
around her fine, firm figure. She was a sight, excitingly good to
to the eye to watch. Hanging down between her breasts, on the chain,
was the medal of Jesus. That darn medal seemed to nip and tear
another raw place in my skin as I watched my bride take a long
shower. She scrubbed the cloth down her legs, stopping at her chins.
Her bent butt with her broad hip bones made me scratch my head more
and more, and yes, I said a little prayer to Heaven for help. Soon,
she was out of the shower and standing on the bathroom floor mat,
dripping, drying herself with my HIS of our set of HIS and HERS
towels, and the medal of Jesus was dangling down on its chain. She
rubbed her luscious body, pausing to stare at me. It looked obvious
that she wanted to cuddled with me.
"It is bizarre," she mumbled. She stroked her legs with the towel
and I stroked the scalp of my head. My head began to feel thinning on
the top as if hair was falling out from stress. I stared at the
Jesus medal, at it glare, its reflection of bathroom's bare ceiling
light. I could swear, I winced from the glare.
"Stop being high and mighty," I said. [Maybe plead]. "Will you,
long enough to permit me my husbandly duty? [I'er - maybe I put it a
little plainer, like: 'let me have you, baby,' or 'come on, girl.']
She surprised me, sounded as if she was hurting almost as much
as I. "Stop being a jerk, you think I don't want you? But, I am
your bride, not somebody to have her faith torn from around her neck
just for your convenience." She looked more determined to resist
removing the medal. She stood straight, her back straight, her
breasts out. She let the long bath towel fall to the floor. She
took a walk to the bedroom to her chest of drawers for underwear.
She spent a full minute working a frilly trimmed pair of pink undies
up and over her legs and her sexy hips. I scratched my head like
crazy as my bride finally tugged the underwear in place. Naked with
the exception of her drawers, Madge was now at her sexiest, and she
wore a proud expression on her beautiful face. She stood before me,
her husband. She was incredibly beautiful and she
knew that I knew
it. She stood up to me, her soft hands on her hips, her magnificent
breasts bared and challenging, and that medal, that darn medal, like
a weapon at the ready, resting on those bare, bodicious breasts.
Suddenly, my hand darted out, took her arms and ... quick like a
stroke of lightning, pulled her tightly to me. Anxious looks took
over her face as I would not let her pull away. For a brief moment,
neither she or I saw the blood that dripped from my chest at the
point where the medal tore a small hole. My eyes must have looked
glazed over during that moment. Her eyes kept widening. The small
flow of blood ran down our [held closed together] chests and reached
her drawers. My mind was busy, my body was shuddering, experiencing
a strong kind of intense relief; then I stepped back and she broke
loose and darted across the room away from me. As she moved away, I
said softly, "There is a line nobody should have to cross. I saw
what you were doing. Shall I apologize, no?"
She started talking slowly, having much difficulty speaking.
She was extremely tight. She saw the blood and the wound. The wound
was still small, the blood was still bleeding out.
"You actually want to hurt me?" she said.
I said, "I don't."
"Why do you?" she asked.
"Wait a minute?" I said. "Do you have an idea what you do? You
do things to me like -"
Her eyes got fierce and bored into me. "Do you realize that you
are crazy?"
"Yes."
"You actually admit it?"
My eyes were wandering over her body. "I'm crazy about you, " I
said.
"I-I had to meet a man like you," she stammered. "That's the way
I am."
"And me," I said.
"What are you going to do? Hurt me more?"
"You don't know how much I love you. You don't know? I'm going to
kiss you, squeeze you, hug you tight, never let you go." [Yes, I
spoke like I was quoting from a love song.]
"I'm bruised and you're bleeding ..." she said.
I moved closer. "You're my wife, my WIFE. I'm going to squeeze
you tight, get ready."
"Wait!" she said. "Wait ..." She made the sign of the cross,
removed the chain and laid the medal reverently on top of her chest
of drawers.
The Lyric
Copyright (c) 1994, Ed Davis
All rights reserved
THE LYRIC
by Ed Davis
I met the Lyric in 1946. She was only thirty years old, but she was
already a lady with a colorful past. She was born a vaudevillian and
was converted to a nickelodeon, during the rush to spread the flickers
over the country. Her early years were highlighted with all the ups
and downs of the times. She experienced the last of the "Roaring
Twenties" and had even passed through the madness of the depression.
My Lyric was well past her teens when, on December seventh, she and
all her people were thrust into the confusion of war. She did her part
as her people joined hands to fight the distant enemies. Rubber
drives, tin drives, glass drives, and steel drives were all initiated
within her sheltering arms.
War news, good and bad, flashed in stark black and white reality
through her comforting interior. Comedy, romance, and drama passed
through her eyes for the entertainment of her beloved town.
War bond drives, with live heroes in obligatory attendance, provided
a tense counterpoint to the frivolity. She never really forgot the
serious nature of the peril which had taken her young people away. Her
shiny black exterior seemed to mourn the deaths that were chronicled in
her nightly displays. Even the recounting of V.E. Day and V.J. Day
seemed anticlimactic, after the hell of war.
My first meeting with Lyric was on a Saturday afternoon. Her vast
interior was filled with seats. Soft lights reflected warmly from her
sides. Her big heart was in repose behind heavy curtains. Those
curtains covered one whole end of her. The lady had an enormous heart.
She was filled with children, as usual. I felt lost, and a
stranger. I do not recall a Saturday when she was not filled with
eager children. She swiftly took me to her breast. I felt welcome.
We children always expected, and received, her best. We were
amused, excited, inspired, and sometimes terrified, by the scenes she
unveiled. When her interior was lighted again, however, she cherished
us with love and the security of a familiar place. We felt free to
explore the world, wrapped safely within the care and protection she
gave. Our lady introduced honor into our lives. She persuaded us to
laugh, despite our teacher's solemnity and the approaching terror of
growing up. We cried and laughed together in her protective darkness,
and failed to notice that she was growing older. Maybe we missed her
decline because we moved further away from the flashing images she
revealed. Younger children rushed to take our places up front, as the
process of maturing allowed us to take a broader view. My memories
were not memories yet.
I did not achieve that step in maturing until 1964, when I returned
home, and learned that the Lyric was closed. I was stunned. Memories
washed over me in waves. The smell of popcorn... The bite of Coke,
freshly splashed over ice... The enormity of a ten cent Sugar Daddy...
Eager faces lighted by the strobing light, reflecting from her radiant
heart... The tingle of waiting for "The Thing" to appear... The feel
of her carpet, new again under my small feet, as my child's memory ran
down her beckoning aisle.
I recalled childhood friends, some dead now, throwing popcorn
bullets and candy wrapper grenades, at a variety of bad guys. I
mourned the loss of another friend. Rest well old friend, you were
never a mother, but you delivered me and my friends from childhood to
maturity. God bless you.
I persuaded the owner of the jewelry store that now fills her lobby
to allow me to take a peek out back. He obliged.
Her seats were stacked together in random piles, her exit signs were
broken, and the exits themselves were boarded over with raw lumber.
As I strained to see in the half light, her heart was still visible.
I will forever recall the lessons she had flashed into my mind. John
Wayne, in his myriad roles, reminding me of Dad. Beautiful women,
their radiance dulled now by time. Walt Disney magic. The Buck Rogers
serials, Star Wars in diapers. Tarzan and his simian companion. All
the western morality plays.
My memories will stay. Just as surely, my vision will fade. She
even taught me to accept that finality. I have never entered another
theater, since that day, without thinking of her. I never will.
My vision faded that day. I was wiping tears away, as I left, and
felt no shame.
ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
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Natalie, Those Children Are Calling For You
Copyright (c) 1994, Daniel Sendecki
All rights reserved
Natalie, those children are calling for you
-------------------------------------------
Natalie, those children are calling for you
those smiling eyes
those unlined faces
Innocence is excusable
Eyes cannot shine forever against
what I know
Children crack
like porcelain dolls
and babies grow raggedy-
limp from hunger
I stand on your front step
like a puppet-master
of broken marionettes
hoping that you never will see
a rotten limb
a knotted fist
a painted grimace
Leave me here, please
Natalie could you please go inside and close the door
leave me to clean up these broken pawns
these limp strings
Laura
Copyright (c) 1994, Tamara
All rights reserved
Laura
by Tamara
In the beginning
they were created equal
two halves of a whole
or so they say.
Then the two became as one
Where's Laura?
With him, came the reply.
As the years moved on
their lives intertwined
From there union formed
another, and then one more
A life complete; a family.
Where's Laura?
With them, came the reply.
Tucking them in; a nightly read
just one of many routines
Wide-eyed with wonder
they listen to the fairy tales
she once believed.
Where's Laura?
Withdrawn, came the reply.
A vacant stare left undisturbed
by the passing of the years
Forlorn, she felt forgotten
He, an outsider to her grief
from him she withdrew..
Where's Laura?
Without, came the reply.
Came a time when night was day
and chaos ruled supreme
there was to be a single crushing blow
from the rubble came a sign
Lady Hawk, her spirits rose
Where's Laura?
Within, came the reply.
She laughed.
Written 8/24/94 by Tamara
Turn Away
Copyright (c) 1994, J. Guenther
All rights reserved
Turn away
by J. Guenther
[DON'T LOOK AT ME
DON'T SPEAK TO ME
DON'T TALK TO ME
DON'T THINK OF ME]
please, I'm standing here for you
and i want to talk to you
but please don't turn away from me--
i still need you!
[DON'T SMILE AT ME
DON'T WHISPER TO ME
DON'T WALK TO ME
DON'T WRITE TO ME]
listen to my heart as it trembles
as you turn your deaf & mute head away!
i still need you tonight
to hear my words!
[DON'T LISTEN TO ME
DON'T INSULT ME
DON'T REMIND ME
JUST LEAVE ME]
depth of pain, have mercy!
i see your reflection, but like a vampire,
its host has vanished into air
and left a soulless shell to do its deed.
[DON'T TALK TO ME
DON'T STAY BY ME
PLEASE DON'T LIVE BY ME
AND PLEASE DON'T LOVE ME]
i don't
[PLEASE DON'T LOVE ME]
i said i don't
[PLEASE DON'T LOVE ME]
i promise i won't
[JUST LEAVE ME]
Eternity
Copyright (c) 1994, Sean Donahue
All rights reserved
I was lost and wandering,
Wondering what to do.
Looking for another,
but running into you.
Each day with out you is ETERNITY.
ETERNITY without you.
My love is meaningless,
without your soft caress.
ETERNITY, without you.
As I get up to apologize,
you say you're sorry too.
And as I gaze into your eyes,
I wonder who are you.
Each day with out you is ETERNITY.
ETERNITY without you.
My love is meaningless,
without your soft caress.
ETERNITY, without you.
We sat and talked for awhile,
and then you went away.
The feelings that I have now,
are the same I had that day.
But I left a book with my name,
today your looking fine.
We got together and had some fun.
And now your love is mine.
Each day with you is Eternity.
Eternity with you,
my love to share with no other,
But Eternity with you.
Eternity!
THE RATES HAVE GONE DOWN! THE RATES HAVE GONE DOWN! IT'S CHEAPER NOW!
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Top Ten List
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Top Ten Ways To Tell You're Having a Really Rough Day In BBS Land
10. SysOp changes your handle to "Ima Leech"
9. Your aunt uses your new CD-ROM disc as a coaster
8. Psych 101 paper gets juxtaposed with alt.sex file from Internet
7. President of local computer user group marries your sister
6. FIDO doesn't like your front-end mailer - and neither does Spot
5. Your wife finds your GIF collection
4. National debt pales in comparison to your upload/download ratio
3. You find your *wife's* GIF collection
2. Chastised by angry RIME conference host for being off topic
1. Artificial Intelligence program won't hot chat you
(c) 1994 Joe DeRouen. All rights reserved.
"A Bum Walked Up To Me And Said..."
Copyright (c) 1994, Bruce Diamond
All rights reserved
"A Bum Walked Up To Me And Said,
'I Haven't Had A Byte In Three Days.'
So I Gave Him A Computer."
by
Bruce Diamond
My friend, Rick, the stand-up comic, told me the other day he just
landed a gig at some big gala event and he wanted to bounce some jokes off
me. Dripping sweat on the new carpet I had installed in my home office, Rick
flopped down on the guest chair after his afternoon jog. Why he insisted
jogging with all of his gadgets always puzzled me -- he looked like a secret
service agent after a quick sprint around the Rose Garden with Bill Clinton.
Rick's a gadget freak, even if he doesn't know the business end of a
computer; he gravitates towards telecommunications/paging gizmos. Two
pagers (one for digital messages, the other to display telephone numbers), a
cellular phone (usually kept in a briefcase), a flip phone, two microcassette
recorders (one for joke ideas, the other one to record everything else), an
electronic rolodex, an electronic dictionary, and an electronic translator (he
just likes the sound of English translated to Latin and back . . . don't ask
me). The translator hits the upper limit of his gizmatic abilities, though . . .
most everything with more than ten keys confuses him.
I just nodded, staring at the "Wrong fax modem type" error message on
my screen. Wrong type? The manual indicated all I had to do was install the
word processing program and boom, I'd be junk-faxing thirty companies in
Walla Walla the details of my new fake insect in the ice cube products, "the
perfect ice-breaker at parties."
Rick droned on about the national convention of computer nerds where
he'd be performing. I shot him my best "I can kill you with a pocket
protector" glare, but he ignored it, as usual. The word processor/fax
software manual was more interesting, anyway.
"I figured," he went on, "that since you're the only computer ner . . .
er, I mean expert . . . that I know, maybe you could give me some feedback
on these techy jokes I'm gonna wow 'em with."
Murmuring a vague assent, I realized I hadn't loaded the fax utilities
that came with the word processor. Writing jokes for Rick would take less
time than reinstalling the program, but it was my only option. At least Rick
could help me kill some time.
"Get this one, get this one." Rick shuffled the index cards he pulled
out of his fanny pack. "Hey, I hear Bill Gates once worked on an earlier
version of Windows called . . . No-Doze! Geddit, geddit?"
I snatched the card from him. "It's spelled W-I-N-D-O-W-S, Rick. And
the only people who complain about the speed are the prehistorics still
running 386-25 machines."
Rick took the card back, giving me his "you're a walking encyclopedia,
and annoying on top of it" look. I just smiled and turned back to the
computer. The installation was finished, so I rebooted while Rick scribbled
some notes. He grabbed another card from his stack. Torturing him was going
to be fun.
"I suppose I can scrap this one, too. 'Programs don't run under
Windows . . . they crawl.'" He lifted an eyebrow, daring me to disagree.
I smiled.
Rick tore the card in two. And about ten others, muttering something
like "Fifty bucks, down the drain" under his breath. He lifted another card.
"WordImperfect?" he asked, querously.
Shaking my head, I answered, "Been done." While he tossed three other
cards, I tried faxing again. Again the computer beeped and "Wrong fax modem
type" appeared on the screen. Realizing my mistake, I rewrote the batch file
to load the driver before the word processor, and rebooted again. Maybe
writing jokes for Rick would be easier than this. The person who first
thought of integrated software should be subjected to Rick's routine.
Where did he get this material? Rick's no A-list comedian, but he isn't
bottom-of-the-barrel, either. He's played Vegas, for goodness' sake. Well,
okay, so it was a small club on the outskirts of town, but it was Vegas. His
glitter-suits, specially tailored for him in Nevada, were the only proof he had
of the two-night gig, but I never doubted him.
Triumphantly, Rick lifted another card from the stack. "This one's
guaranteed, baby. It'll kill, I know it will." He cleared his throat and put on
his best stage voice. Unfortunately, I can't repeat what he said here, this
being a family publication and all. The joke went on for five minutes, filled
with "software" and "hardware" and "hard disk," all told in an adolescent-
male voice loaded with testosterone. Is that a vivid enough picture for you?
"Obviously, Rick, you've never played Leather Goddesses of Phobos or
Leisure Suit Larry. This material won't kill . . . it's already dead."
"Writing the Great American Novell?" Nuh-uh. "New Frito-Lay Computer
Chips, able to store three times the fat and salt than other chips?" Nope.
"IBM means Infernally Bad Machines?" I showed him my IBM shirt with three
dozen variations on the theme. "I hit a speed-bump on the Information
Superhighway?" Oh, please. You've hit a speed-bump in your brain. "My
mouth runs at 14.4k baud but my brain runs at 300 baud?" That's true, but
it won't get any laughs. "I got a code in my node from a computer virus?"
Highly unlikely. "Nancy Sinatra's new hit song, 'These Reboots Are Made For
AWKing'?" Too obscure, incorrect, and just plain unfunny. "I know all about
multitasking -- I read in the bathroom, and eat while watching TV." Yawn.
"This LAN is your LAN, this LAN is my LAN . . ." He still insists on singing
in his act despite his agent's advice, and despite my yowling-dog
impersonation when he does it. Rick is completely tone-deaf. "Byte me."
Only works in print, bucko. And even in print it's dull.
Rick must have run through a hundred "jokes" on that lazy, hazy,
crazy afternoon, getting more discouraged with each passing hour. When he
offered "just the fax, ma'am," that reminded me of my task at hand, and I
reloaded the word processor while he ran through his last half-dozen gags. I
couldn't stand it any more . . . I just had to know.
"Rick, where did you get this awful material? Your usual stuff is
cleverer than this."
Rick shook his head and sighed. "I've gotta cousin, oh, about 15 years
old, who runs her own BBS, and thought I'd save a little money . . ."
I ran a hand over my face. "Don't tell me -- she grabbed a tagline file
for you, didn't she?"
Nodding, Rick tore the last few cards in two. My office looked like the
remains of a ticker tape parade, or an all-night crash programming session at
Microsoft. "Look, Rick," I counseled, "you and I both know you get what you
pay for. Gear up your regular writers and bite the bullet."
"Yeah, yeah, I know you're right." Rick thanked me for the input and
shuffled his way back to his apartment, gadgets clacking against each other
on his fanny pouch belt. He looked as dejected as Lotus after Novell beat
them out to purchase WordPerfect. Turning back to my screen, I entered
Rick's name and address on the fax cover letter as the contact person for the
fake ice cube novelties.
Looked like he needed something to fall back on. Those "nerds" were
going to eat him alive.
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There are several different ways to get STTS magazine.
SysOps:
Contact me via any of the addresses listed in CONTACT POINTS listed
elsewhere in this issue. Just drop me a note telling me your name,
city, state, your BBS's name, it's phone number and it's baud rate, and
where you'll be getting STTS from each month. If your BBS carries RIME,
Pen & Brush Network, or you have access to the InterNet, I can put you
on the STTS mailing list to receive the magazine free of charge each
month. If you have access to FIDO, you can file request the magazine.
If you don't have access to any of these services - or do but don't
wish to use this option - you can call any of the BBS's listed in
DISTRIBUTION SITES and download the new issue each month. In either
case contact me so that I can put your BBS in the dist. site list for
the next issue of the magazine.
(Refer to DISTRIBUTION VIA NETWORKS for more detailed information about
the nets)
Users:
You can download STTS each month from any of the BBS's mentioned in
DISTRIBUTION SITES elsewhere in this issue. If your local BBS isn't
listed, pester and cajole your SysOp to "subscribe" to STTS for you.
(the subscription, of course, is free)
If you haven't any other way of receiving the magazine each month, a
monthly disk subscription (sent out via US Mail) is available for
$ 20.00 per year. Foreign subscriptions are $ 25.00 (american dollars).
Subscriptions should be mailed to:
Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
* Special Offer *
[ Idea stolen from Dave Bealer's RaH Magazine. So sue me. <G> ]
Having trouble finding back issues of STTS Magazine? (This is only the
eighth issue, but you never know..)
For only $ 5.00 (count 'em - five dollars!) I'll send you all the back
issues of STTS Mag as well as current issues of other magazines, and
whatever other current, new shareware will fit onto a disk.
Just send your $ 5.00 (money order or check please, US funds only, made
payable to: Joe DeRouen) to:
Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
Tell me if you want a high density 5 1/4" disk or a high density 3 1/2"
disk, please.
(The following form is duplicated in the text file FORM.TXT, included
with this archive)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Enclosed is a check or money order (US funds only!) for $ 5.00. Please
send me the back issues of STTS, the registered version of Quote!, and
whatever else you can cram onto the disk.
I want: [ ] 5.25" HD disk [ ] 3.5" HD disk
Send to:
________________________________________
________________________________________
________________________________________
________________________________________
Submission Information
----------------------
We're looking for a few good writers.
Actually, we're looking for as many good writers as we can find. We're
interested in fiction, poetry, reviews, feature articles (about most
anything, as long as it's well-written), humour, essays, ANSI art,
and RIP art.
STTS is dedicated to showcasing as many talents as it can, in all forms
and genres. We have no general "theme" aside from good writing,
innovative concepts, and unique execution of those concepts.
As of January 1st 1994, we've been PAYING for accepted submissions!
In a bold move, STTS has decided to offer an incentive for writers to
submit their works. For each accepted submission, an honorarium fee
will be paid upon publication. Premium access to STTS BBS is also
given to staff and contributing writers.
In addition to the monthly payments, STTS will hold a twice-yearly
"best of" contest, where the best published stories and articles in
three categories will receive substantial cash prizes.
These changes took effect in January of 1994, and the first
twice-yearly awards will be presented in the July 1994 issue.
Honorariums, twice-yearly cash awards, award winners selection
processes, and Contributor BBS access is explained below:
HONORARIUM
Each and every article and story accepted for publication in STTS will
received a cash honorarium. The payment is small and is meant as more
of a token than something to reflect the value of the submission.
As the magazine grows and brings in more money, the honorariums will
increase, as will the twice-yearly award amounts.
Fiction pieces pay an honorarium of $2.00 each.
Poetry pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
Non-fiction* pieces pay an honorarium of $1.00 each
You have the option of refusing your honorarium. Refused funds will be
donated to the American Cancer Society.
Staff members ARE eligible for honorariums.
* Non-fiction includes any feature articles, humor, reviews, and
anything else that doesn't fit into the fiction or poetry category.
TWICE-YEARLY CASH AWARD
Twice a year (every six months) the staff of STTS magazine will meet
and vote on the stories, poems, and articles that have appeared in the
last six issues of the magazine. Each staff member (the publisher
included) gets one vote, and can use that vote on only one entry in
each category.
In the unlikely event of a tie, the winners will split the cash award.
Winners will be announced in the July and January issues of the
magazine.
Anyone serving on the staff of STTS magazine is NOT eligible for the
twice-yearly awards.
Twice-Yearly prize amounts
--------------------------
Fiction $50.00
Non-fiction 25.00
Poetry 25.00
The winner in each category does have the option of refusing his cash
award. In the event of such a refusal, the entire sum of the refused
cash awards will be donated to the American Cancer Society.
STTS BBS
Staff members and contributing writers will also receive level 40
access on Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS. Such access consists of 2
hrs. a day, unlimited download bytes per day, and no download/upload
ratio. A regular user receives 1 hr. a day and has an download/upload
ratio of 10:1.
Staff and contributing writers also receive access to a special
private STTS Staff conference on the BBS.
LIMITATIONS
STTS will still accept previously published stories and articles for
publication. However, previously published submissions do NOT qualify
for contention in the twice-yearly awards.
Furthermore, previously published stories and articles will be paid at
a 50% honorarium of the normal honorarium fee.
RIGHTS
The copyright of said material, of course, remains the sole property
of the author. STTS has the right to present it once in a "showcase"
format and in an annual "best of" issue. (a paper version as well
as the elec. version)
Acceptance of submitted material does NOT necessarily mean that it
will appear in STTS.
Submissions should be in 100% pure ASCII format, formatted for 80
columns. There are no limitations in terms of lengths of articles, but
keep in mind it's a magazine, not a novel. <Grin>
Fiction and poetry will be handled on a pure submission basis, except
in the case of any round-robin stories or continuing stories that might
develop.
Reviews will also be handled on a submission basis. If you're
interested in doing a particular review medium (ie: books) on a
full-time basis, let me know and we'll talk.
ANSI art should be under 10k and can be about any subject as long as
it's not pornographic. We'll feature ANSI art from time to time,
as well as featuring a different ANSI "cover" for our magazine each
month.
In terms of articles, we're looking for just about anything that's
of fairly general interest to the BBSing world at large. An article
comparing several new high-speed modems would be appropriate, for
example, whereas an article describing in detail how to build your
own such modem really wouldn't be.
Articles needn't be contained to the world of computing, either.
Movies, politics, ecology, literature, entertainment, fiction,
non-fiction, reviews - it's all fair game for STTS.
Articles, again, will be handled on a submission basis. If anyone has
an idea or two for a regular column, let me know. If it works, we'll
incorporate it into STTS.
Writers interested in contributing to Sunlight Through The Shadows can
reach me through any of the following methods:
Contact Points
--------------
CompuServe - My E_Mail address is: 73654,1732
The Internet - My E_Mail address is: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
RIME - My NODE ID is SUNLIGHT or 5320. Send all files to
this address. (you'll have to ask your SysOp who's
carrying RIME to send it for you) Alternately, you
can simply post it in either the Sunlight Through
The Shadows Magazine, Common, Writers, or Poetry
Corner conference to: Joe Derouen. If you put a
->5320 or ->SUNLIGHT in the top-most upper left-hand
corner, it'll be routed directly to my BBS.
Pen & Brush Net - Leave me a note or submission in either the Sunlight
Through The Shadows Magazine conference, the Poetry
Corner conference, or the Writers Conference. If
your P&BNet contact is using PostLink, you can route
the message to me automatically via the same way as
described above for RIME. In either case, address
all correspondence to: Joe derouen.
WME Net - Leave me a note or submission in the Net Chat
conference. Address all correspondence to:
Joe Derouen.
My BBS - Sunlight Through The Shadows. 12/24/96/14.4k baud.
(214) 620-8793. You can upload submissions to the
STTS Magazine file area, comment to the SysOp, or
just about any other method you choose. Address all
correspondence to: Joe Derouen.
US Mail - Send disks (any size, IBM format ONLY) containing
submissions to:
Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
Advertising
-----------
Currently, STTS Mag is being "officially" carried by over 90 BBS's
across the United States. It's also being carried by BBS's in the
United Kingdom, Canada, Portugal, and Finland.
Unofficially (which means that the SysOps haven't yet notifed me that
they carry it) it's popped up on literally hundreds of BBS's across the
USA as well as in other countries including the UK, Canada, Portugal,
Ireland, Japan, The Netherlands, Scotland, and Saudi Arabia.
It's also available via Internet, FIDO, RIME, and
Pen & Brush Networks.
Currently, STTS has about 10,000 readers worldwide and is available
to literally millions of BBSers through the internet and other
networks and BBS's.
If you or your company want to expose your product to a variety of
people all across the world, this is your opportunity!
Advertising in Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available
in four different formats:
1) Personal Advertisements (NON-Business)
-----------------------
Personal advertisements run $5.00 for 4 lines of advertising, with each
additional line $1.00. Five lines is the minimum length. Your ad can be
as little as one line, but the cost is still $5.00.
Advertisements should be in ASCII and formatted for 80 columns. They
should include whatever you're trying to sell (or buy) as well as a
price and a method of contacting you.
ANSI or RIP ads at this level will NOT be accepted.
Business ads will NOT be accepted here. These ads are for non-business
readers to advertise something they wish to sell or buy, or to
advertise a non-profit event.
BBS ads are considered business ads.
2) Regular Advertisement (Business or Personal)
---------------------
We're accepting business advertisements in STTS. If you're interested
in advertising in STTS, a full-page (ASCII or ASCII and ANSI) is
$25.00/issue. Those interested can contact me by any of the means
listed under Contact Points.
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($125.00) the sixth month is
free.
3) Feature Advertisement (Business or Personal)
---------------------
We'll include one feature ad per issue. The feature ad will pop up
right after the magazine's ANSI cover, when the user first begins to
read the magazine. This ad will also appear within the body of the
magazine, for further perusement by the reader.
A feature ad will run $50.00 per issue, and should be created in
both ANSI and ASCII formats.
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($250.00) the sixth month is
free.
4) BBS Advertisement (Business or Personal)
-----------------
Many BBS SysOps and users call STTS BBS each month to get the current
issue of STTS Magazine. These callers are from all over the USA as well
as Canada, Portugal, the UK, and various other countries.
Advertising is now available for the logoff screen of the BBS. The
rates are $100.00 per month. Ads should be in both ASCII and ANSI
format. We're accepting RIP ads as well, but only for the this
advertising option.
If you purchase 5 months of advertising ($500.00) the sixth month is
free.
Advertisement Specifications
----------------------------
Ads may be in as many as three formats. They MUST be in ascii text and
may also be in ANSI and/or RIP Graphics formats.
Ads should be no larger than 24 lines (ie: one screen/page) and ANSI
ads should not use extensive animation.
If you cannot make your own ad or do not have the time to make your
own ad, we can make it for you. However, there is a one-time charge of
$10.00 for this service. We will create ads in ASCII and ANSI only. If
you absolutely need RIP ads and cannot create your own, we'll attempt
to put you into contact with someone who can.
Contact Points
--------------
You can contact me through any of the following addresses.
Sunlight Through The Shadows BBS
(214) 620-8793 12/24/96/14,400 Baud
CompuServe: 73654,1732
InterNet: joe.derouen@chrysalis.org
Pen & Brush Net: ->SUNLIGHT
P&BNet Conferences: Sunlight Through The Shadows Conference
or any other conference
WME Net: Net Chat conference
PcRelay/RIME: ->SUNLIGHT
RIME Conferences: Common, Writers, or Poetry Corner
US Mail: Joe DeRouen
3910 Farmville Dr. # 144
Addison, Tx. 75244
U.S.A.
You can always find STTS Magazine on the following BBS's.
BBS's have STTS available for both on-line viewing and
downloading unless otherwise marked.
* = On-Line Only
# = Download Only
United States
-------------
BBS Name ........... Sunlight Through The Shadows
Location ........... Addison, Texas (in the Dallas area)
SysOp(s) ........... Joe and Heather DeRouen
Phone ........... (214) 620-8793 (14.4k baud)
(Sorted by area code, then alphabetically)
BBS Name ........... ModemNews
Location ........... Stamford, Connecticut
SysOp(s) ........... Jeff Green
Phone ........... (203) 359-2299 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Party Line, The
Location ........... Birmingham, Alabama
SysOp(s) ........... Anita Abney
Phone ........... (205) 856-1336 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Left-Hand Path, The
Location ........... Seattle, Washington
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Pruitt
Phone ........... (206) 783-4668 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Lobster Buoy
Location ........... Bangor, Maine
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Goodwin
Phone ........... (207) 941-0805 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (207) 945-9346 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Northern Maine BBS
Location ........... Caribou, Maine
SysOp(s) ........... David Collins
Phone ........... (207) 496-2391 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... File-Link BBS
Location ........... Manhattan, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Marcy
Phone ........... (212) 777-8282 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Poetry In Motion
Location ........... New York, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Inez Harrison
Phone ........... (212) 666-6927 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Wamblyville
Location ........... Los Angeles, California
SysOp(s) ........... John Borowski
Phone ........... (213) 380-8090 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Aaron's Beard BBS
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Troy Wade
Phone ........... (214) 557-2642 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Archives On-line
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Pellecchia
Phone ........... (214) 247-6512 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 406-8394 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... BBS America
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Jay Gaines
Phone ........... (214) 680-3406 (9600 baud)
Phone ........... (214) 680-1451 (9600 baud)
BBS Name ........... Blue Banner BBS
Location ........... Rowlett, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Richard Bacon
Phone ........... (214) 475-8393 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Blue Moon
Location ........... Plano, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Roger Koppang
Phone ........... (214) 985-1453 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Bucket Bored!
Location ........... Sachse, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Bellomy
Phone ........... (214) 414-6913 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Chrysalis BBS
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Garry Grosse
Phone ........... (214) 690-9295 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (214) 783-5477 (9600 baud)
# BBS Name ........... Collector's Edition
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Len Hult
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 351-9871 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Foreplay Online
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Sean Goldsberry
Phone ........... (214) 306-7493 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... New Age Visions
Location ........... Grand Prairie, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Joe Reynolds
Phone ........... <Temporarily Down>
BBS Name ........... Old Poop's World
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Sonny Grissom
Phone ........... (214) 613-6900 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Online Syndication Services BBS
Location ........... Plano, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Don Lokke
Phone ........... (214) 424-8425 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Opa's Mini-BBS (open 11pm-7am CST)
Location ........... Plano, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Marshall
Phone ........... (214) 424-0153 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Texas Talk
Location ........... Richardson, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Sunnie Blair
Phone ........... (214) 497-9100 (2400 baud)
# BBS Name ........... User-2-User
Location ........... Dallas, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... William Pendergast and Kevin Carr
Phone ........... (214) 393-4768 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (214) 393-4736 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Deep 13 - MST3K
Location ........... Levittown, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Slusher
Phone ........... (215) 943-9526 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Beta Connection, The
Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana
SysOp(s) ........... David Reynolds
Phone ........... (219) 293-6465 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Bill & Hilary's BBS
Location ........... Elkhart, Indiana
SysOp(s) ........... Nancy VanWormer
Phone ........... (219) 295-6206 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... FTB's Passport BBS
Location ........... Frederick, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Karina Wright
Phone ........... (301) 662-9134 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... The "us" Project
Location ........... Wilmington, Delaware
SysOp(s) ........... Walt Mateja, PhD
Phone ........... (302) 529-1650 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Hole In the Wall, The
Location ........... Parker, Colorado
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Fergione
Phone ........... (303) 841-5515 (16.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Right Angle BBS
Location ........... Aurora, Colorado
SysOp(s) ........... Bill Roark
Phone ........... (303) 337-0219 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Ruby's Joint
Location ........... Miami, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... David and Del Freeman
Phone ........... (305) 856-4897 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... PUB Desktop Publishing BBS, The
Location ........... Chicago, Illinois
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Gjondla
Phone ........... (312) 767-5787 (9600 baud)
BBS Name ........... O & E Online
Location ........... Livoign, Michigan
SysOp(s) ........... Greg Day
Phone ........... (313) 591-0903 (14.4 k baud)
BBS Name ........... Family Connection, The
Location ........... St. Louis, Missouri
SysOp(s) ........... John Askew
Phone ........... (314) 544-4628 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pegasus BBS
Location ........... Owensboro, Kentucky
SysOp(s) ........... Raymond Clements
Phone ........... (317) 651-0234 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Puma Wildcat BBS
Location ........... Alexandria, Louisiana
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck McMillin
Phone ........... (318) 443-1065 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Badger's "BYTE", The
Location ........... Valentine, Nebraska
SysOp(s) ........... Dick Roosa
Phone ........... (402) 376-3120 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Megabyte Mansion, The
Location ........... Omaha, Nebraska
SysOp(s) ........... Todd Robbins
Phone ........... (402) 551-8681 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... College Board, The
Location ........... West Palm Beach, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Charles Bell
Phone ........... (407) 731-1675 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Treasures
Location ........... Longwood, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Jim Daly
Phone ........... (407) 831-9130 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Flying Dutchman, The
Location ........... San Jose, California
SysOp(s) ........... Chris Von Motz
Phone ........... (408) 294-3065 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Matrix Online Service
Location ........... San Jose, California
SysOp(s) ........... Daryl Perry
Phone ........... (408) 265-4660 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Aries Knowledge Systems
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Waddell Robey
Phone ........... (410) 625-0109 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Doppler Base BBS
Location ........... Baltimore, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Myers
Phone ........... (410) 922-1352 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Port EINSTEIN
Location ........... Catonsville, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... John P. Lynch
Phone ........... (410) 744-4692 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Puffin's Nest, The
Location ........... Pasadena, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Bealer
Phone ........... (410) 437-3463 (16.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Robin's Nest BBS
Location ........... Glen Burnie, Maryland
SysOp(s) ........... Robin Kirkey
Phone ........... (410) 766-9756 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Chatterbox Lounge and Hotel, The
Location ........... Penn Hills, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... James Robert Lunsford
Phone ........... (412) 795-4454 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Signal Hill BBS
Location ........... Springfield, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Edwin Thompson
Phone ........... (413) 782-2158 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Exec-PC
Location ........... Elm Grove, Wisconsin
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Mahoney
Phone ........... (414) 789-4210 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (414) 789-4315 (9600 baud)
Phone ........... (414) 789-4360 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... First Step BBS, The
Location ........... Green Bay, Wisconsin
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Phillips
Phone ........... (414) 499-7471 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Lincoln's Cabin BBS
Location ........... San Francisco, California
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Pomerantz
Phone ........... (415) 752-4490 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Uncle "D"s Discovery
Location ........... Redwood City, California
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Spensley
Phone ........... (415) 364-3001 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... File Cabinet BBS, The
Location ........... White Hall, Arkansas
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Harmon
Phone ........... (501) 247-1141 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Starting Gate, The
Location ........... Louisville, Kentucky
SysOp(s) ........... Ed Clifford
Phone ........... (502) 423-9629 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Darkside BBS, The
Location ........... Independence, Oregon
SysOp(s) ........... Seth Able Robinson
Phone ........... (503) 838-6171 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Last Byte, The
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
SysOp(s) ........... Robert Sheffield
Phone ........... (505) 437-0060 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Leisure Time BBS
Location ........... Alamogordo, New Mexico
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Riddell
Phone ........... (505) 434-6940 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Base Line BBS
Location ........... Peabody, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Keith
Phone ........... (508) 535-0446 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... High Society BBS
Location ........... Beverly, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Chuck Frieser
Phone ........... (508) 927-3757 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... High Water Mark, The
Location ........... Wareham, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Joseph Leggett
Phone ........... (508) 295-6557 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... PandA's Den BBS
Location ........... Danvers, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Patrick Rosenheim
Phone ........... (508) 750-0250 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... SoftWare Creations
Location ........... Clinton, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Linton
Phone ........... (508) 368-7036 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Extreme OnLine
Location ........... Spokane, Washington
SysOp(s) ........... Jim Holderman
Phone ........... (509) 487-5303 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Silicon Garden, The
Location ........... Selden, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Andy Keeves
Phone ........... (516) 736-6662 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Appomattox BBS, The
Location ........... New Lebanon, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Everette
Phone ........... (518) 766-5144 (14.4k baud dual standard)
BBS Name ........... Integrity Online
Location ........... Schenectady, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Dan Ginsburg, Jordan Feinman, Dave Garvey
Phone ........... (518) 370-8758 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (518) 370-8756 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Tidal Wave BBS
Location ........... Altamont, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Josh Perfetto
Phone ........... (518) 861-6645 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Mission Control BBS
Location ........... Flagstaff, Arizona
SysOp(s) ........... Kevin Echstenkamper
Phone ........... (602) 527-1854 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Chopping Block, The
Location ........... Claremont, New Hampshire
SysOp(s) ........... Dana Richmond
Phone ........... (603) 543-0865 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Casino Bulletin Board, The
Location ........... Atlantic City, New Jersey
SysOp(s) ........... Dave Schubert
Phone ........... (609) 561-3377 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Princessland BBS
Location ........... Wenonah, New Jersey
SysOp(s) ........... Pamela & Rick Forsythe
Phone ........... (609) 464-1421 (2400 baud)
BBS Name ........... Revision Systems
Location ........... Lawrenceville, New Jersey
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Lauda
Phone ........... (609) 896-3256 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Hangar 18
Location ........... Columbus, Ohio
SysOp(s) ........... Bob Dunlap
Phone ........... (614) 488-2314 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Channel 1
Location ........... Cambridge, Massachusettes
SysOp(s) ........... Brian Miller
Phone ........... (617) 354-3230 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (617) 354-3137 (16.8k HST)
# BBS Name ........... Arts Place BBS, The
Location ........... Arlington, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Ron Fitzherbert
Phone ........... (703) 528-8467 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Bubba Systems One
Location ........... Manassas, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Mosko
Phone ........... (703) 335-1253 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Market Hotline, The
Location ........... Rodford, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Mintun
Phone ........... (703) 633-2178 (28.8k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pen and Brush BBS
Location ........... Burke, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Lucia and John Chambers
Phone ........... (703) 644-6730 (300-12.0k baud)
Phone ........... (703) 644-5196 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Sidewayz BBS
Location ........... Fairfax, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Paul Cutrona
Phone ........... (703) 352-5412 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Virginia Connection, The
Location ........... Washington, District of Columbia
SysOp(s) ........... Tony McClenny
Phone ........... (703) 648-1841 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Vivid Images Press Syndicate
Location ........... Wise, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... David Allio
Phone ........... (703) 328-6915 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Imperial Palace, The
Location ........... Augusta, Georiga
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Deutsch
Phone ........... (706) 592-1344 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Zarno Board
Location ........... Martinez, Georiga
SysOp(s) ........... Tim Saari
Phone ........... (706) 860-7927 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Anathema Downs
Location ........... Sonoma County, California
SysOp(s) ........... Sadie Jane
Phone ........... (707) 792-1555 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Happy Trails
Location ........... Orange, California
SysOp(s) ........... Don Inglehart
Phone ........... (714) 547-0719 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... InfoMat BBS
Location ........... San Clemente, California
SysOp(s) ........... Michael Gibbs
Phone ........... (714) 492-8727 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Cool Baby BBS
Location ........... York, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Krieg
Phone ........... (717) 751-0855 (19.2k baud)
BBS Name ........... T&J Software BBS
Location ........... Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania
SysOp(s) ........... Tom Wildoner
Phone ........... (717) 325-9481 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Ice Box BBS, The
Location ........... Kew Gardens Hills, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Darren Klein
Phone ........... (718) 793-8548 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Systemic BBS
Location ........... Bronx, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Mufutau Towobola
Phone ........... (718) 716-6198 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (718) 716-6341 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Paradise City BBS
Location ........... St. George, Utah
SysOp(s) ........... Steve & Marva Cutler
Phone ........... (801) 628-4212 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Regulator, The
Location ........... Charleston, South Carolina
SysOp(s) ........... Steve Coker
Phone ........... (803) 571-1100 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Straight Board, The
Location ........... Virginia Beach, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... Ray Sulich
Phone ........... (804) 468-6454 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (804) 468-6528 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... TDOR#2
Location ........... Charlottesville, Virginia
SysOp(s) ........... David Short
Phone ........... (804) 973-5639 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Valley BBS, The
Location ........... Myakka City, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Daymon
Phone ........... (813) 322-2589 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Syllables
Location ........... Fort Myers, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Jackie Jones
Phone ........... (813) 482-5276 (14.4k baud)
# BBS Name ........... Renaissance BBS
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... David Pollard
Phone ........... (817) 467-7322 (9600 baud)
# BBS Name ........... Second Sanctum
Location ........... Arlington, Texas
SysOp(s) ........... Mark Robbins
Phone ........... (817) 784-1178 (2400 baud)
Phone ........... (817) 784-1179 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Dream Land BBS
Location ........... Destin, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Ron James
Phone ........... (904) 837-2567 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Hurry No Mo BBS
Location ........... Citra, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Roy Fralick
Phone ........... (904) 595-5057 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Star Fire
Location ........... Jacksonville, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Bruce Allan
Phone ........... (904) 260-8825 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Tree BBS, The
Location ........... Ocala, Florida
SysOp(s) ........... Frank Fowler
Phone ........... (904) 732-0866 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (904) 732-8273 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Outlands, The
Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates
Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Moonbase Alpha BBS
Location ........... Bahama, North Carolina
SysOp(s) ........... Steven Wright
Phone ........... (919) 471-4547 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Outlands, The
Location ........... Ketchikan, Alaska
SysOp(s) ........... Mike Gates
Phone ........... (907) 247-4733 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 225-1219 (14.4k baud)
Phone ........... (907) 225-1220 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Legend Graphics OnLine
Location ........... Riverside, California
SysOp(s) ........... Joe Marquez
Phone ........... (909) 689-9229 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Locksoft BBS
Location ........... San Jacinto, California
SysOp(s) ........... Carl Curling
Phone ........... (909) 654-LOCK (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Image Center, The
Location ........... Ardsley, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Larry Clive
Phone ........... (914) 693-9100 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... SB Online, Inc.
Location ........... Larchmont, New York
SysOp(s) ........... Eric Speer
Phone ........... (914) 723-4010 (14.4k baud)
Canada
------
BBS Name ........... Canada Remote Systems Online
Location ........... Toronto Ontario, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Rick Munro
Phone ........... (416) 213-6002 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Source-Online
Location ........... British Columbia, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Chris Barrett
Phone ........... (604) 758-4643 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Encode Online
Location ........... Orillia Ontario, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Peter Ellis
Phone ........... (705) 327-7629 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Beasley's Den
Location ........... Mississauga Ontario, Canada
SysOp(s) ........... Keith Gulik
Phone ........... (905) 949-1587 (9600 baud)
United Kingdom
--------------
BBS Name ........... Hangar BBS, The
Location ........... Avon, England, United Kingdom
SysOp(s) ........... Jason Hyland
Phone ........... +44-934-511751 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Pandora's Box BBS
Location ........... Brookmans Park, England, United Kingdom
SysOp(s) ........... Dorothy Gibbs
Phone ........... +44-707-664778 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Almac BBS
Location ........... Grangemouth, Scotland, United Kingdom
SysOp(s) ........... Alastair McIntyre
Phone ........... +44-324-665371 (14.4k baud)
Finland
-------
BBS Name ........... Niflheim BBS
Location ........... Mariehamn, Aaland Islands, Finland
SysOp(s) ........... Kurtis Lindqvist
Phone ........... +358-28-17924 (16.8k baud)
Phone ........... +358-28-17424 (14.4k baud)
Portugal
--------
BBS Name .......... Intriga Internacional
Location .......... Queluz, Portugal
SysOp(s) .......... Afonso Vicente
Phone .......... +351-1-4352629 (16.8k baud)
BBS Name .......... B-Link BBS
Location .......... Lisbon, Portugal
SysOp(s) .......... Antonio Jorge
Phone .......... +351-1-4919755 (14.4k baud)
BBS Name ........... Mailhouse
Location ........... Loures, Portugal
SysOp(s) ........... Carlos Santos
Phone ........... +351-1-9890140 (14.4k baud)
South America
-------------
BBS Name ........... Message Centre, The (Open 18:00 - 06:00 local)
Location ........... Itaugua, Paraguay
SysOp(s) ........... Prof. Michael Slater
Phone ........... +011-595-28-2154 (2400 baud)
Saudi Arabia
------------
BBS Name ........... Sahara BBS
Location ........... Dammam City
SysOp(s) ........... Kais Al-Essa
Phone ........... +966-3-833-2082 (16.8k baud)
SysOp: To have *your* BBS listed here, write me via one of the
many ways listed under CONTACT POINTS elsewhere in this
issue.
STTS Net Report
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Sunlight Through The Shadows Magazine is available through FIDO,
INTERNET, RIME, and PEN & BRUSH NET. Check below for information on how
to request the current issue of the magazine or be put on the monthly
mailing list.
FIDO
To get the newest issue of the magazine via FIDO, you'll need to
do a file request from Fido Node 1:124/8010 using the "magic" name
of SUNLIGHT.
INTERNET
To get on the STTS mailing list, do the following:
Send internet mail message to:
STTS-REQUEST%textalk@egsner.cirr.com
With either the following in the body:
ADD SUBSCRIBE JOIN
To be added to the list or:
UNSUBSCRIBE DELETE REMOVE
To be removed from the list.
If you're a SysOp *Please* be sure to send me a note telling me your
BBS's name, your name, your state and city, the BBS's phone number(s)
and it's baud rate(s) so I can include you in the list issue's
distribution list.
Send the note to: Joe.DeRouen@Chryalis.ORG
If you wish to FTPMAIL request the magazine, please send mail to:
FTPMAIL%textalk@egsner.cirr.com
With the following in the body:
GET <filename.ext>
Where <filename.ext> would be SUN9408.ZIP or whatever issue you're
wanting to retrieve. The current issue available will correspond to
whatever month you're in. Septemeber 1994 would be SUN9409.ZIP, etc.
RIME
To request the magazine via RIME, ask your RIME SysOp to do a file
request from node # 5320 for the current issue (eg: sun9408.ZIP, or
whatever month you happen to be in) Better yet, ask your SysOp to
request to be put on the monthly mailing list and receive STTS
automatically.
PEN & BRUSH NET
To request via P&BNet, follow the instructions for RIME above. They're
both ran on Postlink and operate exactly the same way in terms of file
requests and transfers.
I'd like to thank Texas Talk BBS and Archives On-Line BBS for allowing
me to access the Internet and Fido (respectively) from their systems.
End Notes
Copyright (c) 1994, Joe DeRouen
All rights reserved
Lately, I've been playing in MUDs (Multi-User Dungeons) on the internet.
Couple that with the fact that I'm not writing for Computer Currents
magazine and have been extremely busy with some non-computer related
stuff as well and you have the reason why the magazine is late.
It's also a decent reason as to why the endnotes doesn't say much.
<Grin> Ah well. There's always next month!
Joe DeRouen, Sept. 10th 1994
