Latest
Update: August 5, 2001 by Ben Marcus
13:15
PT SUNDAY AUGUST 5, 2001 WATSON LAKE HOTEL, WATSON LAKE
Stupid
cat. It's 13:16 in the PM and I'm still in Watson Lake. The cat
is still missing and I am still stressing. Most likely he has
gone feral for a little while and is letting his fine Norwegian
Forest Cat genetics take him for a spin through the lake and swamp
and forest that is a few feet from the library.
But
he makes me worry, doggone it. Is this the time he won't come
back? I'd hate to push on to Alaska without him, feeling as guilty
as little Jess Arbogast's uncle, the guy who caught and landed
the bull shark that took off his nephew's arm.
But
we shall see. Had a chat with a guy who lives in an apartment
overlooking the area where I last saw Ike. It's very possible
that he walked into some weekend establishment that won't be open
until Monday, and Ike will come flying out and we'll go flying
up the Campbell Highway.
But
it's cool. I have things that need to be read and things that
need to be written. I cracked a copy of Wired that I'd bought
a few days ago, and found a whole bunch of articles on Brain research
that support one of my other hare-brained ideas: The opera called
Deus ex Machina.
I
want to whip together an intelligible outline for the idea and
send it to the Paul Allen Music Fund, to see if anyone there gets
it or likes it. Today I am doing an exercise: Describing the story
in one sentence, then one paragraph and then one page.
If
people make it through that, then I have about 20 patches of synopsis
and quotes and ideas. It's a sophisticatd idea but a good idea,
with its feet in the classics and its head in the future. It would
be very fun to write.
DEUS
EX MACHINA IN A SENTENCE:
Deus
ex Machina is a space opera that is really an opera, a Greek drama
played out in space, a struggle for understanding and control
between the million-year-old immortal intellect of one of earthÍs
greatest scientists, and his very mortal, flesh and blood son.
On
board a lavish Interstellar Museum of Earth, a million years removed
from home, a flesh and blood human being, Dion Waldstein, is mysteriously
handed control of the ship and his own destiny, and is torn between
loyalty to the million-year-old immortal intellect that controls
the ship, and the confused, riotous needs and emotions of the
other 149 humans onboard.
Those
are my first two attempts: sentences the size of paragraphs. This
is a big idea, and hard to sum up in 50,000 words or less, much
less 50.
I'll
keep working on it, and include more logline and the paragraph
if I get them done today.
I'm
in the Watson Lake Hotel in the restaurant, waiting to use the
phone. A trucker or something is on the phone talking about a
"4500 mile trip" from Edmonton. He must be talking to his wife
or something, because he's going on and on.
Now
he just called "Mr. Walker and he's double checking to make sure
that he could go with him on the 13th to Oklahoma. It's been quite
the adventure."
I
just let the trucker guy check his e-mail. He's driving from Dallas
to Fairbanks.
Oh
well. Hopefully the dingaling will show up and we can get going.
Need
to work on those loglines.
I'll
tell you, the cat thing sure divides men and women.
Here's
a back and forth with Joanne Joanne Ottone, cat lover. Female.
In
a message dated 8/5/2001 11:20:50 AM Pacific Daylight Time, JOatSunriseHill
writes:
Do
what is right for once in your life,
I
DO THINGS RIGHT ALL THE TIME.
and
if Ike comes back, get him a permanent home.
EVENTUALLY.
THIS IS A TRIP WE'RE TAKING. WE'RE LOOKING FOR A HOME.
You
can't do that to a cat. Cats are not nomads.
THEY
USED TO BE.
If
they were meant to be, they wouldn't be domesticated animals.
MAN
IS THAT LOGIC ALL SCREWED UP. CATS LOVE TO RUN WILD, AND I THINK
IKE HAS THE SKILLS TO SURVIVE. WHAT I WORRY ABOUT, AND WHAT
HAS PROBABLY HAPPENED, IF SOMEONE FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM AND
KEEPING HIM.
OH
WELL. AT LEAST HE'LL HAVE A PERMANENT HOME.
Oh
well. It's a rainy day in Watson Lake, my cat is missing, my Russia
trip is in limbo, my creditors are looking for me and I'm trying
to write a logline for a hare-brained science fiction idea.
21:13
PT SUNDAY AUGUST 5, 2001 PHONE AT WATSON LAKE LODGE
ODOMETER
TRIP
METER
MONEY
Chili-cheese
fries for lunch: $10.00
Well
for lack of anything better to do in Watson Lake on a slow Sunday,
I just took a long nap in the van. I woke up with daylight still
blazing and tried to guess what time it was. It was 21:00. The
guy who lives near where I am parked gave me a jump start, and
I'm back at the data phone. I've received abotu a half-dozen "Did
You Find Ike?" e-mails and I've told them all the same thing:
I think Ike is locked into a Social Services building near where
I am parked. He is probably in a closer somewhere, not feeling
too good, but he'll be out by tomorrow, I hope.
That's
one possibility. There are other possibilities, but I don't want
to think about them.
After
my last post I had a horrendous plate of chili-cheese fries for
lunch, and listened to two RCMP talk turkey. Then I drove back
to the library, ran down the battery working on Deus ex Machina,
and then took a nap.
So
now it's 21:15. I'm going to find a lounge with a TV and watch
the news. I tried to eat breakfast in a lounge this morning, but
they kicked me out, saying it was closed. Stupid. Frontier boredom,
I guess.
Oh
well. If and when Ike shows up tomorrow, we'll be up the road
to Carmacks and then Dawson City. Just want the cat back is all.
I
made some headway on the Deus ex Machina page.,
Does
this make any sense at all?
DEUS
EX MACHINA IN A SENTENCE.
Deus
ex Machina is a Greek drama played out in space, aboard an Interstellar
Museum of Earth Culture, a million-years removed from earth, and
only six earth days from the first contact between homo sapiens
and another intelligent culture. In space, no one can hear the
riotous outbreak of emotion that has erupted in the art and artifact-filled
rooms and galleries of the Cogito. There is a life and death struggle
taking place between the mortal, 21-year-old ñCitizensî of the
Cogito, and the immortal, million-year-old computerized consciousness
who have just lost control of the ship, and their own fate. The
150 ñCitizensî who inhabit the Cogito care nothing imminent contact
with the extra-terrestrial civilization they are approaching.
All the ñCitizensî want is to turn Cogito around and return to
earth. The Cogito is their home, where they were ñhatchedî by
artificial means, and educated as well as possible about the universe,
and the place they came from: earth. But now that the universe
has given control of the Cogito over to The Citizens, what was
their home now feels like their prison. Earth is their home, and
earth is where they want to go. ñEarth First!î is the rallying
cry of the Citizens. And that is usually seconded with ñTurn off
the Talking Heads!î
The
Talking Heads are the 150 computerized intellects which control
all the functions of the Cogito, the preserved mortal consciousness
of Dr. Arnold Waldstein and 149 of his friends, colleagues and
fellow geniuses. A million years in the past, Dr. Waldstein became
one of earthÍs greatest men-a combination of Einstein, Darwin
and Gates-when he focused centuries of computer science and brain
research into Cogito, the computer that seamlessly melded together
organic mortal human intellect into the immortal, nano-supercharged
soul of a super-computer. A million years in the past, Dr. Waldstein
fled from earth with 149 of his friends, colleagues and earthÍs
most adventurous minds, flesh and blood human beings who signed
on to leave earth on a voyage with no end, an eternal investigation
into the origins and ends of the universe, and everything in between.
When
the Talking Heads boarded Cogito they were flesh and blood, but
now they are there in mind and spirit only, their earthly intellects
and curiosities and personalities preserved forever in computer
form, and close to busting with a million years of knowledge from
combing the cosmos at as nailÍs pace. Earth is a fond memory to
The Talking Heads, one they can call up and return to, in their
minds, whenever they want. Sometimes their minds return to the
chaotic ñgutterî of earth, but mostly they are looking at the
stars, sailing through the universe for countless millennia, slowly
and patiently probing the mysteries of the Universe, and hoping,
ever patiently, to find someone interesting out there to talk
to. After million of years of being in control of Cogito, and
21years of overseeing the ñhatchingî and education of their flesh
and blood offspring, the Talking Heads are only six days away
from the ultimate prize of all their wandering: contact with an
intelligent civilization. But six days away from that ultimate
goal, the Talking Heads are rendered helpless by a bolt of mysterious
universal energy that no even they can explain. The Talking Head
shave lost control, and can only watch helplessly as The Citizens
struggle to come to a decision on what to do with their new fate:
Return to Earth, continue the mission, or destroy the ship.
Caught
in the middle of all this computerized emotion and flesh and blood
earth sickness, Dion Waldstein finds himself with the universe
all of a sudden heaped on his shoulders. Dion is like all the
Citizens,21-years-old, full of piss and vinegar, and the usual
doubt and reservations about life, but multiplied to infinity
by the circumstances of his birth and enclosed existence. ñThe
Eggî as The Citizens call the spaceship Cogito, is all he has
ever known. He was ñhatchedî and raised within the egg, with space
rolling by outside the giant picture windows.
Dion
is the flesh and blood son of Dr. Waldstein and because of his
birth, and because he has been blessed with the most valued of
talents among The Citizens, the other 149 21-year-olds look to
Dion for leadership and guidance. The Citizens have had Earth
culture crammed down into their heads for most of their 21 years:
history, books, movies, science. But most importantly, music.
Within the isolation and solitude of the egg, The Citizens speak
a slang that draws from all of earthÍs languages, similar to the
Russian-inspired slang of Alex and the Droogs in A Clockwork Orange.
The Citizens of The Eggare fascinated by earth. They know earth
history and culture better than most21-year-olds on earth ever
did. They know every good movie, and every good line from every
movie. They cheer when Dave dismantles the HAL 9000 computer in2001:
A Space Odyssey, the most popular movie on board The Egg.
In
Lawrence of Arabia, King Faisal explains to Mr. Bentley that ñin
my country, the man who brings victory in battle is valued above
all other men.î Aboard The Egg, the man or woman who is blessed
with musical talent is prized above all other men or women. Music
is the language and currency of The Egg, and it is how The Citizens
express themselves at their most sincere, happy or depressed.
On board The Eggg, Dion Waldstein is the man who is most blessed
with musical talent, and so he is looked to for guidance by the
other Citizens.
And
so the conflict between the Talking Heads and The Citizens falls
on DionÍs shoulders. He is 21-years-old, intelligent and wise,
but he finds himself tested to his limit to decide what he and
his Citizens should do with their mysteriously won freedom. The
Egg and the Talking Heads and Life is under their control. What
should they do with itî Return to Earth. Continue the Mission.
Or, as some of the darker elements of The Citiznery suggest, destroy
The Egg before humanity can do to the universe what it did to
Earth.
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