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I'm in and I'll take a flash ingredient
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Jan 9, 2024 20:10
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| # ¿ May 14, 2024 16:26 |
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The 37th Diplomatic Interstellar Banquet 1987 words The Stellar Council convened on the usual station in the usual dining room. In the past, people had fought wars to demonstrate their supremacy. Wars were a reality check for the delusional, but interstellar war was a terrible waste of lives, and worse, resources. Now, they did things differently. Political economists had long since proved the outcomes of those wars could be predicted based on productive, technological, and logistical capacities, so a great deal of time and effort was saved by meeting over dinner to demonstrate those capabilities there instead. Council members met every five years. The rules were simple: All the ingredients must be fresh. No synthetics. Each of the leaders had their tongues and noses biologically enhanced, and had spent decades learning both the political and culinary intricacies. As backup, they had teams of technicians running particle analysis, spectroscopes, and more. Those devices were part of the hundreds of cameras watching the event. Across the stars, the dinner meeting was broadcast by tightbeam through the system’s warp portals. It wasn’t just premier entertainment; the fate of nations rested on the courses. The table was set with simple gray porcelain, with tasteful gold rings around the edges of the dinnerware. The utensils were a special matte gray composite that was utterly tasteless. Chief Executive Thesia Martian, who represented the Homeworld Republic, had the honor of entering first. She wore the ancient suit and tie favored by the Federated Corporations, the largest faction within their space. Her wristwatch was entirely made of crystal, including the gears and band, to show off the progress their nanocrystal production facilities were achieving. President Nahid Asayesh, who represented the Orion Cosmarchy, entered second, wearing the traditional screen-robe favored by the elite. The entire garment was made of bendable screens, which currently showed the nebula for which the Cosmarchy was named in real time. The tightbeam technology the Orioni were pioneering was impressive, but it was also common knowledge among every spy agency. Last to enter was General Secretary Jiang Basra, representing the People’s Sixth Republic. They wore a silk Tangzhuang, a style even more ancient than the suit. Along the edges, it had distinct characters, each one representing a different cultural group that was in the Sixth Republic. The hundreds of subtly glowing logograms told the audiences that they considered their strength their people. Their opposition was not impressed by this. “Welcome,” Executive Thesia said, bowing slightly to her opponents. She had won the last contest five years ago, so though the Council took place in neutral space, she acted as host. Her opponents bowed in return and took their seats. “Our appetizer today is bruschetta, crab palmiers, and a light salad.” Understatement was all part of the game. It was up to her opponents to assess her capabilities, not for her to tell them. In both Nahid and Jiang’s earpieces, they could hear their support staff scrambling to bring up databases on Homeworld Republic tomatoes, cheeses, crab, bread and more. Three waiters came out baring full plates of the appetizers. Nahid’s team got straight to work on identifying them. The camera snapshots were fed into a program that turned their faces into 3D models, which were then cross-referenced with facial recognition databases the Orion Cosmarchy had lifted from compromised Homeworld databases. “We have a match. All three waiters are CEOs. They’re representing the financial giants Core Finance, Platinum Credit, and Schuperson LLC.” Nahid didn’t acknowledge the message. Homeworld was broadcasting the strength of its legal framework for securing property rights and the high relative value of its currency. That wasn’t a demonstration that helped her gain any leverage, it was an advertisement to the corporations in Cosmarchy and Sixth Republic space. Data showed investment activity had just spiked. The bruschetta had yellow and red grape tomatoes, precisely quartered. The bread was browned and crisped around the edges with laser precision—literally—and perfectly soft in the center where olive oil had drenched it. Fresh basil was mixed with a soft goat cheese, and over it all were thin lines of a balsamic vinegar. This was Homeworld’s opening move. Each item was from a different world in their space, each normally a week away by cargo ships traveling by gate. The radiocarbon and spectroscopic analysis showed the balsamic was really from Earth, and really aged for 12 years. “Those yellow cherry tomatoes are from the Ticolian-2 greenhouses, and were picked two days ago,” Jiang’s team whispered in their ear. “The interceptor hand-offs must have been flawless, and they’re demonstrating speeds of 3.48 ppy.” That meant the Homeworld military was showing off impressive precision in their maneuvering capabilities, and new top speeds that put them far above the other two nations. It had to be ship engines, because warp gates could only be established along predetermined routes made possible by subspace anomalies from the Universe’s expansion. As Jiang took a bite, they nodded imperceptibly, their enhanced taste-buds confirming the origins of the food as the bright flavors swirled through them. The tattoos on their neck were actually a microlayered device that picked up on the subtle change in tension in their neck and sent the acknowledgment. That didn’t just mean “I heard you,” it meant “pursue this line of investigation.” A secondary team immediately got to work on looking into the new engine technology. Meanwhile, analysis of the other ingredients confirmed their origins too. The crab palmiers used a goat cheese from yet another system, and the crab was Carcozure Blue, a unique species now only found in an asteroid colony at the far end of Homeworld space. “Confirming robust artificial biospheres, and estimates are upped to engine speeds of 3.49 ppy. They must have at least nineteen fleet carriers along the route, each with the new interceptors. That’s a significant advance to their military capabilities,” Nahid’s ear-piece reported. The salad’s fresh leaves were from seventeen more systems, and the spiced pecans and honeyglaze dressing taken from yet another. Executive Thesia smiled at the other two. Her team was reporting a slightly elevated heart rate in President Nahid. President Nahid stood. “The main course will be prismatic trout with a light curry sauce, complemented with grilled vegetables,” she said. As the Orion waiters came out, Nahid could not help but give a smug smile. Database analysis quickly revealed both waiters were classified as paraplegic. However, each wore a mechanic suit with actuators so subtle and supports so sleek, they were only detectable by x-ray photography, not the naked eye. Their movements were agile and natural, and not at all impeded. The Orion Cosmarchy’s robotics had advanced significantly in these past five years. “Profile confirms the fish are from Exelian Prime,” Executive Thesia’s team told her. These trout only spawned under specific climactic conditions, which meant the Cosmarchy’s terraforming technology had made a breakthrough. Exelian Prime had previously been considered barren. And, for the trout to still be fresh, their ships must have been making speeds of 3.17 ppy. An impressive number, if the dinner had taken place ten years ago. Though their engines were outclassed, Cosmarchy troops wearing those robotic suits would have a distinct edge in planetary fighting and boarding actions. Nahid scored another point when Thesia realized that the roasted potatoes were from her space. The Cosmarchy had a smuggling operation that she didn’t even know about, and it was secure enough they were willing to flaunt it. Well, they hadn’t detected the revolution in engine technology, so that was just annoying, not devastating. Dinner proceeded with amicable conversation. Jiang made a jibe about the arbitrary nature of finance, which made Thesia roll her eyes. Thesia’s conversational victory came when she made a pun about ship crews ‘breaking a fast,’ causing Nahid to scowl. Nahid in turn mentioned that his faction might need a handicap to make the next meeting fair, a ham-fisted reference to Orion’s assistive technologies. Thesia looked at Jiang, who seemed unperturbed by their opponents having superior infantry and ship speeds. As they pulled apart the tender fish with a fork, savoring the sweet and savory taste of the special trout and the smoky perfection of the grilled asparagus, Jiang winked at her. “It’s a bluff,” Thesia’s team told her. As analysts confirmed the origins of each of the vegetables, Nahid sat back in apparent satisfaction of a good meal. She was sure her opponents had realized her nation was gaining a significant edge in production thanks to the new colonization efforts she had just demonstrated. Certainly, when Thesia tasted the buttered squash, she’d realized it was from the formerly uncolonized periphery, and her eyes had widened ever so slightly. As the waiters cleared the table, Jiang listened for the motors in the support suits, and had to admit even with their enhanced hearing they couldn’t make them out. “I have a confession,” they said. Then, they paused as their opponents looked at them. “But I suppose it can wait until after dessert.” They stood and said, “Dessert today will be a baked saffron kheer with vanilla pears.” A rapid back-and-forth went between Thesia’s and Nahid’s teams as the waiters came out; as best they could determine, these were just regular-rear end people from the Sixth Republic. The presentation of the food was impeccable. The tiny golden pears were set over the creamy rice, with the faintest sheen of caramel-burnt sugar. A single vanilla string lay along the center. As their forks speared the mouthwatering pears, they found the consistency was perfect, and the faint hint of infused vanilla exquisite. The sweet basmati rice had captured the taste of saffron perfectly. The chatter in the Homeworld and Orion analysis rooms continued to be confused. “The saffron is from the periphery, and the rice from all over the republic. But we can’t narrow down the origin of the pears or vanilla,” Thesia’s team told her. “Radiological profile puts the pears at Zhigu-8, but with only a 48% match.” Jiang smiled at the now worried faces of their opponents. They waited patiently for dessert to finish, the delightful flavors mixing with the building apprehension. The opposition knew their best agents of both nations had missed something—something big. Jiang had just demonstrated an operational security that was terrifying, and it wasn’t just a missed engineering project, but two entire missed planets. “Well?” Thesia snapped, growing impatient. “My confession? Well, I admit it was I who put your teams at a distinct disadvantage. You should have them recheck their databases.” Thesia blanched, and Nahid’s eyes grew wide. Were they saying that they’d compromised their secure networks? Sure enough, the databases now flagged the origin of the pears. In the back rooms, the analysts were going berserk. “Vishava-3 isn’t on the warp gate network! How the hell can that be the origin? These pears were only picked five days ago and that trip would take seven months!” Streamcasters were shouting to their audiences, standing as they knocked back their chairs in disbelief. All over the Sixth Republic, cheers broke out as the news reached them. The street parades began immediately, holographic dragons and firework light shows accompanying the jubilant crowds. A chill settled over the room as the two other nations realized implications. Not only had their networks been infiltrated and their computer technologies been superseded, but the Sixth Republic had just shown they had established new warp gates along pathways that had previously been impossible. Two new warp gates. At least. General Secretary Jiang wasn’t even playing their full hand. They’d figured out something fundamental about the physics of the Universe that neither of them were close to approaching. They stared in disbelief as Jiang bowed and left the room. The diplomatic negotiations that followed the contest were a full sweep. The Homeworld Republic and Orion Cosmarchy were forced to accede to every demand.
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Jan 13, 2024 21:44
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Crits for Week #598 beep-beep car is go - Epiphaneia: First, the quibbles: Trust your reader to know words like “sangria.” Condescending to define a term that common is a bit insulting. You continue this with major plot points. Hmm, some guy who’s turning water to wine that the Catholic Church is really interested in? Better tell your readers exactly who that is. Years, when listed partially, need an apostrophe at the front, like so: ‘99 or ‘78. A small town grandparent involved in the Catholic church would know the long white garment is called a “vestment.” Next, I don’t think the best way to tell this story is a rambling second person. I think the story was going for a humorous take on small town secrets, because the narrator speaks with levity, but there’s not really any funny parts. The story would do better to put us in the dramatic moments. I don’t see what purpose telling the story years later adds. Your biggest clue this is a problem is you have your character say “I promise this is going somewhere.” This feels to me you must know your story is rambling. You can easily cut huge chunks off the intro, as they aren’t characterizing anyone important or progressing the story at all, nor are they simply nice to read like flash fiction that plays with prose does (see “Vinegar and Honey” and “Thirteen Things” for examples this week of this kind of solidly written prose that stands on its own). Finally, it feels like the story skips over the interesting things. What’s it like for the town to lose water as the Vatican descends on the town? What dramatic tension exists between the people as they struggle with the secret? Do people question their faith? Do people try to not go along with the cover-up? What happens to them? That’s if the story is going to be dramatic. If you’re going for humor, you need to have more ridiculous things. Funny arguments. A priest arguing with his flock that, no, they aren’t allowed to have sangria as part of communion instead of wine. More shenanigans are needed overall, and again, that’s best displayed in another point of view. Flyerant - Falling Richards: I don’t really want to spend more time critiquing this story than you did writing it, so let me just say: I used judgemode to read, so this was the second of your raining dicks story I read this week, and neither made me laugh. I don’t really have any advice for how to write humor consistently, but I can tell you this didn’t land. Given that there is literally nothing else to the story than a single setup and punchline, I have no other advice to give here. See your second crit for the rest. The Cut of Your Jib - No Glove No Love: When I read this story, I thought for sure this was a new entrant and English was not their first language. Structurally, in the grammatical sense, there’s a lot of weird choices that feel wrong, and it’s been too long since I diagrammed a sentence for me to explain it using technical terms. This is another story where I can’t tell if it’s going for horror or humor. Let’s list some examples of sentences: “As he extended his hand to the innkeeper, Bart Waller was balding,” feels like an entry for the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. It sounds like he’s going bald as he extends his hand. “Sharon worked through her real or feigned rustic anxiety with the little box computer and printed molecules onto the door card that would let Bart meet his bed for the hot date he had been dreaming of since he got on the disease box they called a 737 half a day ago.” You’re cramming like four separate ideas that have nothing to do with each other together. Sharon is anxious, Bart is thinking about meeting someone, she’s getting his key card ready, also he got off a plane on his way here. What a mess! “With the key, she handed him a half-liter brown bottle with a cork.” This sentence is structured so weird. Why not, “She handed him the key and a half-liter of [alcohol goes here]”? The double negative on “smashed his head with the mantle piece”—why? WHY? WHY USE A DOUBLE NEGATIVE?? You don’t use drills to do tattooing. Is it a drill or a needle gun? It’s one or the other, please pick. Okay, let’s move on to the overall story: It seems to me the idea is to establish that Bart is in a small town checking into an Inn but the vibes are off. But this is described in such a way I have trouble even following this simple action. Why would Bart expect Sharon’s hand to pass through Richard? If he’s expecting that, it might be worth cluing your readers into why. If you’re trying to ramp up tension by making the simple interactions here seem creepy, it didn’t land at all. The mood is further undermined by the baffling sentence structure and the strange tangents the story dives off into, like “he just got off the 737 disease box” or “Coca Cola? You mean Capitalist Scum Syrup??? Fascists!” I don’t know why a guy would fly to Switzerland to investigate a comic book artist, and the story only sort of implies why this might be interesting after the story has already taken its turn. As the story progresses, I wondered why Bart was trying to steal Shannon away from her husband… because she has… comic book artist tattoos? In the end, some creepy things happen. But by the time they do, I’m already checked out of the story, and the first 2/3s of the story haven’t properly set up the last third. At this point, I've given you a lot of critiques that amount to the same word: clarity. I don't know how to properly convey that the thing happening in your head is not the thing you're actually writing, and I don't know how to get you to see what you've actually written and how confusing it is. It's a bit discouraging at this point. Flyerant - Becoming Ahab: I got to read this “raining dicks” story first. I guess this is the second version of the story. At the time, I didn’t realize it was the same author. This story doesn’t work either. Like the first story you wrote, this one seems to have been written in a rush, as you have basic grammar errors. Maybe don’t rush two sub-par stories out, and instead spend time making one good? Just a thought. Next, if you’re going to have a scientist character, please do a bit of brief Googling to get even the basics right. If the desert air is at 1% relative humidity, and it then goes to 3% relative humidity, that’s an increase of 300%, which is not very impressive. Also, deserts periodically get rain storms, even if they’re rare, but this is a known occurrence. A hydrometer is for “…measuring density or relative density of liquids based on the concept of buoyancy.” The term you’re looking for is actually “Hygrometer.” My trust in an author to deliver a good story goes down when they butcher basic science, since it already feels less like the characters are real. By the way, everything I just mentioned is literally 6th grade science and one Google search away, so I’m not asking for an in-depth understanding, I really do mean basics. By the time we get past the lazy science errors, the only thing I know is humidity is higher than normal, an area that is usually dry is not, and the pH of the water is higher than normal. This is probably the least interesting mystery in the world. In the end, none of that matters. You’ve predicated your entire story on the ending being funny, because it’s missing a plot and the characters are flat. But it’s not funny. Like, even if I’d read these in the order you posted them, you already made the exact same joke. But standing alone, the setup here is completely lackluster. It feels like I’ve just had a bunch of my time wasted by bothering to turn on judge-mode and try to read the stories this week seriously. Staggy - Bitter Water: This story has some solid parts to it. The plot is introduced quickly: A man’s gone missing, and now there’s an investigation. Lines like “Emma’s lad”, are good, and get us that small-town vibe. As the investigation continues, it’s clear something is being protected, and the town is “in” on the secret and willing to conspire to keep it. Small pieces like the coffee seem innocuous, but coffee ends up being the critical “mermaid-away” that keeps them safe. What could improve? While the story was highly functional, it didn’t really have anything that made it stand out. What could help? Some more depth to the characters. A bit more effort put into the descriptions. Some more attention to dialogue. Something to make it stand out. I also wondered why they’re protecting the lake-predator mermaid (as a note, I was a bit sad the flash rule spoiled it, but that’s not your fault). It’s not like they knew they’d need to get rid of the rich guy earlier, and this is obviously a long term secret. Nitpick: I don’t buy it’s cold enough for snow and so humid it feels clingy. That seems contradictory. But as I said, overall a fine story, but needs some more to elevate it. Still, this was certainly a solidly written story and while I didn't push for it to win, I certainly didn't protest either as it did what it set out to do quite well. SurreptitiousMuffin - Eat Dirt: First, do a quick check for typos. A few snuck in, like a run-on sentence. Onto the story: Is this humor or horror? “Teen eats the spooky dirt and becomes slenderman-style tall and then won’t stop making tik-toks even after 100 phones are locked away” is funny. But then the story goes into their “dreams of being hunted.” You can go for both, and I don’t know there’s enough room in the story to have both land. So, students do sometimes die and school, and this does not actually affect their funding. The only reason I would buy admin hiding a dead kid in the field is if they were culpable in some way. I think the story implies this, but it’s not totally clear; we know it’s a suspicious accident, but that’s all. Did this conspiracy happen in a staff meeting? Because I cannot buy a room full of teachers keeping a secret. Never has happened, never will happen, sorry. (This is to say: some clarity is needed around who is present in the cover-up.) More, it seems Walrough and Nedry are willing to dig themselves deeper in a cover-up, but no insight is given into what sets them on this path to begin with. This has some excellent creepy moments. However, too much time is spent on bits that are not as strong. I think some dialogue might help, and actually putting us in the super creepy moments. Making this into a short story would give it enough room to do this, but even in a flash format 1-3 scenes could really be emphasized. Like, I want to know what Mr. Walrough is saying to the kids vomiting dirt on him as he’s buried alive. What excuses does he have? What confessions does he make? I want to be in the moment of Mrs. Nedry’s dream and horrific awakening, or, you could also have it from Mr. Walrough’s perspective as he walks into class. This story felt like it had a lot of potential, but hasn’t quite reached it yet. As it is, it still elevated itself this week, and deserved the HM. Also if you do end up polishing and selling this story, American publishers are going to want punctuation after things like "Mr." and "etc." Thranguy - Thirteen Things: It’s a risky maneuver to have these things so disconnected. Some very sparse descriptions are doing good work here—we get quite a bit of depth to the characters, places, and situations in only a few words--but they’re too isolated. “9” feels it needs work. There’s not enough there to set up “13.” “11” feels like a fragment. Reread that last sentence. Also doesn’t have a period. I get after I get to the end that the cursed tree is screwing this town up, but it became sort of darkly amusing just how many murderers this town apparently had. In the end, we learn the town is cursed, because of the lynching tree. But too much is just snapshots, disconnected. The tree and the curse it drew up from the unjustly murdered is the core, and each other snapshot should maybe tie into either the tree or one of the other snapshots. Or into the sins of the past haunting the present, as is the theme. As it is, the fragments seem too isolated to really tie this together as a story, or even a properly cement the mood and scene. It feels like this has potential, but is not there yet. As it is, it still elevated itself this week, and deserved the HM. Slightly Lions - Vinegar and Honey: This story has some great descriptions to start us off. It really starts us off with strong visuals and two clear contrasting moods: The gloomy outside, and the warm sanctum. Midway through, it becomes a bit on the nose, tossing as many descriptions of ‘bad’ as it can on the preacher. He then goes outside and immediately gets his comeuppance. Feels a bit moralistic, as does the end. Sort of like how all the women super-heroes in End Game get together for a big lady’s scene, the grandma’s thoughts on men just seem too… blatant? The implementation needs work. I do like the core idea there: old grandmas baking pies for the supernatural to keep the town safe. That a simple kindness goes farther than ancient legends or bellowed faith. Some nitpicks on language: “drawing breath like a bellows to bellow…” eugh. Would anyone actually say “M. Raemond” out loud? Overall, this had some solid descriptions and a neat premise, but needs some rework on the dialogue, characters, and conclusion (mostly looking at the second half) to reach the next level. cptn_dr - Old Badger’s Sons: This isn’t a bad story, but it’s also not a good story. There’s just nothing particularly exciting or offensive. The mystery is at the core of the story, but the problem is the mystery is too predictable. Somehow, as soon as you mentioned the neolithic stones, I knew the pattern of deaths would match that. Meanwhile, the deeper mystery of “why did the neolithic stones decide to kill a bunch of people so they could fall over or whatever” is not discussed. This brings us to the ending: The character’s agency is taken away too fast. The latter part of the story is more interesting in the investigation. I would start with the revelation, then spend more time with him and maybe the voice. Give the reader a chance to see what the victims might have gone through, as that’s more interesting than the very medium investigation going on prior. A great deal of horror can be found as, despite their best effort, the protagonist is driven unwillingly to their fate. Some more work could be done on the characters to expand who they are, how they feel. Little details about interests, home life, struggles, etc. can bring them to life a lot more, and a sympathetic character is critical in making horror land. Details about British politics and hot-button issues firmly establish the setting (I liked that), and more work like that can help elevate the story. CaligulaKangaroo - Smiling Henry’s Antique Mall: The way the opening scene is deployed needs a lot of work. There’s a skip between ‘ah, the old store’ and waving about the revolver. The magic needs to be introduced some other way too, because here it’s jarring. This is, after all, a fantasy story (even if it’s low fantasy), so it needs to be clear about setting up the necessary world building for the plot at hand. We have “Greggy Boy somewhere much scarier [than prison]” and at first I thought you meant he was dead and in hell, but no, this is metaphorical Satan: Edith is Satan, and Greggy Boy is only mostly dead (or something, wasn’t quite clear on that). See, there’s magic, but if the magic has rules, I don’t know them, and the protagonist doesn’t either, so I don’t know if what he demands of Edith is even possible or this just shows us he’s desperate because he loved his brother. And, to that note, so much time is spent on magic and fights and whatever that the characters are missing a certain depth to them. Why does Samuel trust Edith, who he just shot in the throat to little effect? As for the magic, I’ve seen better. I get the gist of it, ancient things have power, witchcraft is real, the mysterious east has artifacts of power, etc. etc.. But why is Latin always magic, but no one ever has the Romans as sorcerer people? Look, I’m asking the big questions here. Anyways, this wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t that good. It’s one of many stories this week that need to think more about what they are at the core, polish up the edges, and spend the word count more on the things that will elevate it. Lord Zedd-Repulsa - The what in my cave?: Well, I saw someone on Discord say they only did half a story, and while there’s another contender for that accolade, this is certainly the one. There’s not too much to say because, well, not sure where you were going or how you would have landed it. Uh, plan ahead a bit more is my biggest advice. Some notes: - Starting with untagged dialogue, brave, and probably not wise. - Please don’t define words like “bluff” to the reader, it’s condescending and a waste of words. - Are these teenagers dumb enough to explore caves without an adult, but smart and resourced enough to have hardhats and headlamps (so, they’ve done it before?). Bit confused on this. The characters are pretty weak, the descriptions need work, and has some clunky language: “our head lamps shrinks claustrophobically small in both dimensions possible” —there are three dimensions irl, not two. “…water I can only now hear drip, drip, drip.” (Needs something like “hear going drip, drip”). There are some good turns of phrase too, like “wind monologuing” and Becky mentioning her dad hunts and the narrator mentioning he’s the chief of police, which makes the characters seem more like whole people. Obviously I could say more of if the story had an ending, but rivetz - PILF: One: The title looks too close to MILF, sorry. Also, please don’t name your ant colonies CckLyckLk. So this is an ant town with horrible secret, which no one else did. However, this means a lot of time is spent explaining how ant life works, which, I dunno how much of that we needed. A lot of the start could be cut. You could do some interesting things where you play with ant perceptions, like the wasp exuding pheromones that changes Ixl’s idea of what is right as she struggles to hold onto her loyalty. As it is, the story is pretty meh. The idea is fine, but the implementation doesn’t have much going for it. The characters are weak, the descriptions need to be strengthened, and the horror is just a brief bit on the end, it really needs to be expanded on. If you’re looking for a novel that does this idea of non-human perceptions and pheromone manipulation well, I would recommend Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky.
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Jan 23, 2024 01:39
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