The Caregiver Excerpt

This is an excerpt of a short story I wrote last year. It was selected as a finalist in ScreenCraft's Cinematic Short Story Competition. I'm currently re-working several ideas to turn it into a novella or full novel, with plans to make it a trilogy. One of the things that appeals to me most about this is that, while it certainly involves tragedy, it's a story with an overall optimistic look at the future. I'm sure those who've seen 'I Am Mother' on Netflix will see some similarities, but I'm weary of the dystopian settings in most modern sci-fi. I like to think that there's hope for all of us and the future will be brighter. 

Father dies first. Mother is too weak to bury him. The drugs don’t suppress the allergen anymore. Her lungs are calcifying. Every day her breath gets a little shorter. If she takes the gulp of air her body screams for, her chest cavity will crack like burnt paper. She would welcome the release from the slow panic of asphyxia. But she has to hold on for the baby’s sake. So that’s what she does.

They were the first couple to get pregnant. The others were months behind and the allergen finished the women before they came to full term. Mother and father assumed the baby wouldn’t last. They braced for the cruelty of just barely outliving their child. But two months went by, then three. Then they faced a worse cruelty. This atmosphere is not alien to the child. Instead of suffocating, she will starve. 

Unless, father had said. There’s a chance. The colony’s artificial intelligence. All but the most essential med lab equipment. Everything was committed to the effort. Father validated motor functions and logic pathways the day before he died. Only mother remains to teach a robot how to be a parent. She hasn’t nearly enough time. How do you upload instinct? What is the command prompt for motherhood? 

Just love her. Her voice is barely more than sand racing across the outer habitat wall in the windy season.

The robot cannot feel love. Please specify directives.

Mother closes her eyes. Her lung will break open if she sobs. Emulate human behaviors and acts associated with love. 

Define parameters.

Keep her safe from physical harm. Don’t let her out of your sight unless it’s essential. Promote her emotional well-being. Don’t lie to her. 

There is so much more to say, but she is exhausted. She needs rest before she can continue. 

She dies in her sleep, the baby in her arms. Cambria would have been the fourth colony beyond Earth. It collapses in just 27 months. People across the universe watch the tragedy unfold from the isolation of their worlds. Adrift on their little lifeboat orbs, all they can send now are thoughts and prayers. Anything of substance is constrained by physics and economics. Tian has yet to reach industrial maturity. Columbia is closer by a few lightyears. Earth has the most robust fleet. No matter how or where from, it will be 12 years before the child feels another human’s touch.

The Life Beyond: A Short Story

Evan and Sheena move toward the exit like a car going through an automated wash, brushing against the swaying torsos lining the entryway. Only when they finally escape do they relax. Sheena’s ankle stops trying to keep balance on her stilettos and she slides into Evan with a giggle. He recovers unevenly and they weave to the parking lot. She knows he is fumbling with his keys, but it doesn’t bother her. He’s okay. He’d say something if he wasn’t.

Evan gives her what help he can and she drops into the passenger seat. She’s waiting for him when he finally rounds the car and makes his way to the driver’s side. She kisses him deeply and makes lurid promises that she’ll probably be too sleepy to keep by the time they get back home. He does not need his advance to know this. Experience has taught him.

He wrestles with his pocket for the car keys. She asks if she can help and they giggle again. He gets them out and the giggling stops. Each of them has the same vision. The car staggers drunkenly from its parking spot, then regains its composure. It rolls casually onto the street, confident that it can hold its liquored passengers for the short drive to the house. It is steady around the turns. It brakes evenly at the lights. It cruises the suburban pathways at legal speed. It’s cool. Everything is normal.

The normalcy falls apart when another car with a flat hasn’t fully pulled onto the shoulder. Evan jerks the wheel a little too hard to the inside of the turn. The car flips. Evan and Sheena have forgotten to put on their seatbelts. The rescue crew opens the car to find their arms entwined in a final embrace and other pieces of them smeared all over the interior.

Sheena gasps. Evan pulls his hand back from the ignition as if burned. He pulls out his mobile and swipes for a ride.

They awake the next morning hung over and hollowed out. They stay in bed until their livers have processed so much alcohol that their bladders are uncomfortable. Then they shuffle about the house as their minds grow uncomfortable trying to process the rest. Evan breaks the silence.

Way of the Sword

Marathon

These pages were born from my research into the Battle of Marathon for a non-fiction work. I was so inspired that I created a 240-page graphic novel about Pheidippides' famous run to Sparta and back. As epic as the feat was, it would have made for a pretty dry read to watch a guy run for 300 miles. So I turned it into a giant chase scene. Now we have Pheidippides chased by a Masai warrior, who is honor-bound to his Persian captors to hunt down the messenger and bring back the Greek's head in exchange for his freedom. Pheidippides' journey is as spiritually as it is physically taxing, and in the end we get a much more inspiring reason for why he ran until his heart burst.

PAGE ONE (four panels)

Panel 1.  Day, a flowered plain in ancient Greece.  Pheidippides, age 5, runs through the field racing other children.  Pheidippides is running ahead of a group of others chasing him. 

Pheidippides (CAP): 
Ever since I can remember, I've been running.

Panel 2.  Keeping with our beautiful spring day.  View of Pheidippides, age 5, runs across a makeshift finish line along a path.  He looks magnificently triumphant, like he's just taken the gold medal.  There's a crude line of white rocks marking it off.  It looks to have been constructed by children.

P (CAP): 
I loved to race the other children--

Panel 3.  Change the view of Pheidippides, age 5, crossing the finish line such that we can see the area around him.  The other kids are way behind him.

P (CAP):
At first, I loved the thrill of winning. 

Panel 4.  Pheidippides, age 5, turns and watches the other boys cross the line as he gloats.  Two Athenian warriors watch in the background, discussing the boy's prowess.

P (CAP): 
I got everywhere I wanted by running.